orionsstarlight

Latest Posts by orionsstarlight

well 🧍‍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.

the woman dies.

Yeah, I’d watch Muppets Lord of the Rings

hot artists don't gatekeep

I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard

Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.

Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.

Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.

Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.

SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.

SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.

Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.

Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.

Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.

Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.

Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.

This user supports AO3

This user is anti-censorship

This user believes in “don’t like, don’t read”

This user believes in “ship and let ship”

This user believes that fiction tastes and preferences do not dictate moral character

I think some people forget that some literature and some media is meant to be deeply uncomfortable and unsettling. It's meant to make you have a very visceral reaction to it. If you genuinely can't handle these stories then you are under no obligation to consume them but acting as if they have no purpose or as if people don't have a right to tell these stories, stories that often relate to the darkest or most disturbing parts of life, then you should do some introspection.

It’s not difficult, acting like there aren’t gorgeous fat models out there ffs

can i please see a fat woman wearing it. yes, i know your sizes go all the way up to 5x. but can i please see a fat woman wearing it. yes, i heard you're woman-owned. can i please see a fat woman wearing it though. yes, i understand you donate 50% of proceeds to this charity. i still do not see a fat woman wearing it. can i please see a fat woman wearing it.

Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.

Reblog if you think a woman can be complete without children

Y’ALL HAVE TIME TO REBLOG THIS. IT TAKES LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS.

Frodo: Sam hates Gollum, but that is what I shall become once I have lost myself to the ring… he’ll despise me… 

Sam if Frodo did turn into a Gollum: That’s a very nice fish you caught with your bare hands, Mr. Frodo, and its very smart of you to eat it raw, saves us the trouble of starting a fire. I knitted you a sweater in case you get cold running around in that loincloth of yours. Is the sun hurting your eyes? I’ll kill it if it’s bothering you. I’ll kill the sun

I’ll still read the dense text but I will mutter this as I go

some of you need to romanticise the fucking paragraph break

Mhm

I need fanfic writers to stop referring to Arthur Morgan as ageing/old/past his prime/getting on etc etc

He's in his mid thirties. He's literally the same age as me. Stop this nonsense now.

Just reblogging this to break my own heart later 🖤

What if you were a gunslinger confronted with your mortality and you realized how little of your life had amounted to something good and you tried to redeem yourself near the end, the only way you knew how...

Forget Me

“Daryl and Lucy sittin’ in a tree, K - I - S - S - I - N - G!”

Chapter 16

“Always,” My lips form the word but no sound tumbles out. My eyes slowly flutter open. I feel so light, like my body isn’t mine. I blink a few more times, adjusting to the light in the room. Daryl……

Read more…

Forget Me

“Daryl and Lucy sittin’ in a tree, K - I - S - S - I - N - G!”

Chapter 9

“Wow what happened to your hands Tommy?” Lori asks with raised brows as Tommy makes his way back into camp. He shrugs good naturedly, all white teeth and soft eyes as he walks to his tent.“Got caught…

Read more…

Forget Me

Alone in the apocalypse he saved her life, now she had to do the same.

Chapter 3

I look at my reflection, pain in my chest. My lip is swollen and split. Down my body flash purples, browns and yellows. Some fresh bruises over the top of old. My chest rattles as I breathe in, a sure…

Read more…

Forget Me

Chapter 2

I head out the RV shyly, suddenly nervous in the company of people again. We're on the edge of a farm, a big campsite, a large farm house not far away. It's untouched by wendies and I find myself in awe as I look around. Rick spies me from the fire and he gets up walking towards me.

"You joining us for dinner?" He asks with a smile and my stomach grumbling answers his question as we chuckle.

"You never told me your name," He says, walking me to join the group of people around the fire.

"Lucy," I say and he shakes my hand.

"Lucy...?"

"Just Lucy," I state and he pulls his hand away with a questioning look, but asks no further. We stand at the edge of the ring of people and I feel all eyes on me as I stand at Ricks side.

"Everyone, this is Lucy, Lucy, this is my wife Lori, my son Carl. That's Carol and Andrea. Shane, T-Dog, Glenn and Dale," I give them a small wave, painfully self conscious.

"Come on, take a seat," Rick says and I look around a moment before his wife smiles warmly at me and pats the spot next to her and her son. I smile back and walk over, sitting next to the small boy. I'm handed a plate of food by the woman Carol and I smile my thanks, unable to speak all of a sudden in company. I eat silently while everyone else chats and I feel eyes on me from the side. I look to see Carl staring at my tattoos. I raise an eyebrow, smiling.

"Sup?" I ask and he looks at me with the same clear blue eyes as his dad.

"I was just looking," He says with a shrug and I look up into the fire.

"An unasked question is the most futile thing in the world," I hum and look at him from the corner of my eye, laughing at his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I just mean it's okay to ask," I say and he gives me a grin.

"What's that?" He asks and points to the puckered pink skin on my inner forearm by the crease of my elbow.

"That's a pirate brand," I say and I watch his eyes widen.

"Pirate brand?"

"Yep. Y'see, the cheapest way to mark a person as a pirate is to brand them. That's what the law does when they catch you, that's your first warning. They brand you with this 'P' so that you can never escape your piracy crimes," I say seriously and he gawps. In reality, the pirate brand on my arm was a really stupid drunken thing me and a couple friends had done years ago. Unable to stay serious as he looks crossed between seriously excited and terrified, I end up grinning at him and he gives me a little shove, scoffing.

"That's not true,"

"Yar tis true matey, a blood thirsty pirate was I," I growl and he just rolls his eyes, laughing.

"What about that one?" He points at three small black silhouette of sparrows in flight, wrapped around my wrist.

"Makes my arrows fly better," I say and he tilts his head.

"Oh I'd show you but currently my bow is awol," I say pointedly looking at Rick who has his arm around Lori, watching us intently. He winces, getting up.

"Sorry Lucy," He says and disappears, coming back with all my things except my handgun. I frown.

"The man letting us stay on his farm asks that we don't carry guns," Rick explains and I roll my eyes.

"Fine, but don't get too attached to it," I say and he smiles, sitting back down.

"Anyways, check it out," I say and hand Carl my bow. He can't do himself any damage to himself or the bow.

"Whoa," He breathes running his hands over my jet black recurve bow. He pulls at the string.

"It's solid," 

"It's gotta be to put proper power into a shot," I explain and he nods.

"You any good?" He asks and I shrug.

"I can put dinner on the table," I say and he grins.

"Hey Lucy, what's with the accent?" I look to the guy talking. Asian, stupid baseball cap on his head, scrawny, kinda cute I guess. He's talking about the twang to my accent. I have a soft voice, my Georgian accent barely comes through, elocution lessons do that to you.

"It's English," 

"It's uh, subtle," 

"So are you by the looks of it," I say, smirking and laugh as he blushes. Carol takes my plate from me when I'm done.

"Did you make it, the stew?" I ask and she nods.

"I haven't had anything that good since pre-wendies," I say and she smiles widely.

"I'm glad you liked it," She says happily and I smile at her.

"What the hell’s a wendy?" Glenn asks and I force a small laugh.

"Well what do you call those things?" I point my thumb in the general direction of the trees.

"Walkers," He says simply and I nod.

"Why wendies?" Dale asks curiously and I lick my lips nervously.

"It's short for wendigo," I murmur and he raises an eyebrow. I look around, everyone looking at me, waiting for me to explain.

"The legend of the Wendigo or Outikou, is a Cree legend, Algonquin Native American. They said that the wendigo was a creature with yellow eyes and rides on the North wind. They said he is so thin, it is like skin stretched over a skeleton. When he turns to the side, he disappears. What lips he has is tattered and bloody. His flesh decaying and dying. The stench of decomposition like a vile perfume around him," I pause, looking up and see everyone staring at me, making me blush.

"Please continue," Dale says encouragingly and I swallow hard, looking back into the fire.

"The Wendigo eats and eats, but is never full. The more it eats, the hungrier it gets. Starvation is all it knows, the constant need to fill it's belly. It lives only to feast on the flesh of man, though the Wendigo himself is a man. If you were unfortunate enough to survive a bite from a Wendigo, you too would become Outikou. You would crave flesh and desperately hunt it down. You would forget who you are, what you were, you are now the Wendigo. You would want nothing more than to silence the moan from your ever empty belly, to fill the hollow gap that you would never fill. Constantly feeding an impulse that will never go away, not until you are dead. And the only way to kill Outikou, to kill the Wendigo, is to cut off the head and burn the body.

This was just all too familiar when it all began. I couldn't keeping calling them people, not any more. They're Outikou, Wendigo. Wendy for short," I murmur and I glance up. Everyone looks blown away apparently.

"Whoa," Lori breathes and I force a laugh.

"You did ask," I say, getting to my feet as they share a nervous laugh.

"I'm sticking with walkers, that gave me goosebumps," Glenn says to T-Dog who nods.

"Heeby-jeebies man," He says and shivers while I blush.

"I'm gonna head off, I've creeped you all out quite enough for one night," I say with a smile.

"I thought it was cool," Carl says and I look at him with a smile.

"You got a tent Lucy?" Dale asks and I shake my head. I think it's plain I don't, I have my jacket wrapped around my quiver and that's it.

"I'll sleep up a tree," I say with a shrug and Carol gasps.

"You can't sleep up a tree," Andrea scoffs and I narrow my eyes at her.

"Funny, it's what I've been doing since this began,"

"But what if you fall?" Carol asks, concern on her face and I pat my belt.

"I strap in," I say and Rick shakes his head.

"I'm sure we can find somewhere for you, Shane would you-"

"Rick, really, it's fine. I'm fine," I say backing away and I say a quick goodnight before anyone else can argue and I disappear into the woods.

I climb a tree close to camp, near a tent that stands on it's own, I can see it from here. I watch it as I pull a cigarette from my thigh pack and light it up. I spot that guy walking into it and I raise my brows as I watch him enter his tent. Daryl... I'm sure Rick said his name is Daryl. I blush brightly at the thought that Daryl, who didn't even know me to care, must have carried me from the woods all the way to camp. It's the only thing I can think of that got me here. I inhale deeply on my cigarette, wondering why he would do that. Then I remember what he said. They're good people, which includes him.

* * * * *

Forget Me

"If you go near that redneck again, I'll kill him and make you watch."    

She had nothing. 

Now she had everything and she’d never been more scared. Now she had things to lose and she knew it would.    

When her past comes back to haunt her, Lucy is torn. She's found somewhere to belong and her past threatens to shatter all of that because if he can't have her, no one can. 

Chapter 1

The sun kissing my skin, the grass stroking my cheek, the pleasant sound of children screaming and laughing, their little feet thudding on metal and tarmac. Mummies and nannies reading or chatting or chasing an unruly child around the park. A bright, wonderful day. My belly full of whiskey, my lungs full of smoke, my head cloudy with inebriation. I smile, closing my eyes to doze off in the grass.

Screams. Real screams. Screams of terror. I open my eyes, sitting up. I wish I'd kept them closed. My euphoria is shattered at the scene I look upon, worse than any horror movie. The sky darkening, fat black storm clouds settling over. Children screaming. Women screaming. I'm paralyzed. I can't process what I'm seeing. These people, these things were eating the children.

I wake sweating, panting to catch my breath. The branches and leaves rustle under my weight and sudden movement and I'm glad of the belt around the branch holding me in place. One more day breathing, one more night of unrest. From my thigh pack, I light a cigarette, inhaling deeply to calm my shot nerves. Unbuckling myself, I redo my belt around me, gather my things and climb down out of the tree. Landing on the ground, I take in my surroundings, standing still, listening carefully, an arrow already notched to my long black recurve bow. Silence, just the sound of the breeze rustling in the trees.

I start walking, heading to a bed of water I know is near by. I spot the first wendy of the day. What was once a woman is now a rotten mess. Chunks of what was probably once beautiful long blonde hair cling to her scalp, her red flowery dress filthy and torn. She walks at a funny angle, her ankle snapped, the bone poking out. She turns to me and half of her face has been raked away, her teeth showing through her cheek, her eye socket empty yet still glaring at me with that blank stare that soon becomes excitement at the thought of fresh meat. My arrow flies swiftly through the air and with a thud she hits the ground. I collect my arrow on the way passed, a slosh of bone and flesh as I pull it from her skull and keep walking.

I stoop down at the waters edge, casting a wary eye. Wendies can't cross water but they sure as hell try. I've seen someone dragged down and made mince meat out of by a Wendy stuck in the water bed. I fill a water bottle from my pack and add the appropriate drops of iodine. As I kneel there, I catch my reflection in the water. Bright green eyes look back at me from bruised looking sockets, stark against the porcelain paleness of my skin. I've been back in Georgia must be coming up nine years and I still can't tan. I just seem to reflect the sun rather than take it in. My bruised eyes, they're only from lack of sleep. I don't think anyone left alive sleeps anymore. Constantly on edge, poised and ready for an attack at any moment... Wendies are always there, always waiting, shuffling on and you're their target. We're all just victims waiting to happen, you let your guard down for a second and poof. That's you. Game over.

I don't know what's more depressing, nightmares of the life I live now or nightmares of the life I used to live.

A sickening crack as my blade pierces the wendies skull, it uttering a last moan as I pull my knife free and it sinks to the ground. I wipe the gore from the blade on the soil and I stare at the chunks of cerebral matter now being wiped away. Was this piece your hopes? This your dreams? Your pride? Your capacity to love? I shake my head violently. I shouldn't think like that. These things aren't people any more. I'm starting to doubt they ever were.

I shield my eyes and peek at the sun. It's just passed it's highest point so it must be just after noon. I put away my knife in my belt and pull my bow from around me, notching an arrow from my quiver to the string. I take a slow silent tread, keeping my eyes peeled for any movement.

I have to keep making my eyes focus, shaking my head constantly. I've been feeling lousy and light-headed for days. I haven't been bit and I haven't been scratched so I know I'm not about to pop my clogs and become a wendy anytime soon but it's alarming none the less.

An hour passes before I catch a sign of life but there they are. Two squirrels scampering up a tree are suddenly on the ground, an arrow in each of them. I pull the arrows free from their small eye sockets. Not only is it the most humane way to kill them, but it also saves the meat. Not that there's much meat on a squirrel but well, beggars can't be choosers. I'm surprised at them being so low to the ground but squirrels gotta eat too. Generally these days they hide in the trees, far from the wendies who I am in constant competition with for the little buggers. However to be fair to the squirrels, they give me warning sometimes, they scatter faster than pins at the bowling when they hear a wendy. Their sense of smell and hearing is better than mine and who could mistake death and decay in the air, the sound of nashing teeth.

I creep along, hoping my luck holds and I catch another squirrel. The Georgia air is stifling and sweat trickles over my skin. I pause at what sounds like two coins clicking and I smile. I step lightly forward and spot the squirrel with his nut in a small clearing. I spread my legs, pull back my arrow and let out a careful slow breath before releasing my bow. It makes a soft thud as it kills it instantly. I put another arrow to my string just in case and approach slowly. My eyes flick back and forth as I bend to pick it up, stiffening in the breeze. The soft wind brings with it the unmistakable smell of sweet sweat. Wendies don't sweat, humans do. I pause, mid bend. Whoever they are, they're close, close enough for that smell to linger. If they meant me harm, they would've done it by now. I was unawares a moment ago. They could've shot me or whatever then. Or they haven't seen me yet. Impossible, my blonde hair is like a red flag here in the open. So I take the arrow from the squirrel, placing it in my quiver and pick up the squirrel, tying it to my belt beside the other two.

"You gonna say something?" I ask softly and stand up straight, looking expectantly in the direction the scent came from. To their credit, they don't flinch at the sound of my voice. I stare for a few moments and I'm about to turn away when they speak.

"That was mine," A deep rough voice wrapped in a southern accent, thick and honey like. A man steps out into the clearing, a crossbow in his hands. He's muscled, toned, wiry like a hare. Chiseled arms visible by the torn off sleeves on his checked shirt. Messy brown hair in a rough cut, his fringe plastered to his forehead. He's unshaven and dirty, but I don't suppose I'm any cleaner. He's glowering at me. He doesn't like to be surprised. Huh, that's rich coming from the guy who was watching me.

"Better call the Ranger then because as far as I can see it's my arrow, my kill, my dinner," I state and he scowls at me. I scowl back and we glare at each other before he looks away huffing. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to say something else. He looks back to me and I'm startled when the sun flashes in his eyes. They're like the oceans of Neptune staring at me. Actually glaring is the better way to describe it. Hostile son of a bitch. I harden my features, cursing myself for being distracted by his stupid pretty eyes.

"Well since we've established this is mine..." I say and start to turn away again.

"Happened to your arm?" He asks, stopping me in my tracks and nodding at the sodden bandage wrapped around my bicep. I bristle visibly.

"It's not a bite if that's what you mean," I snap and he just stares at me, waiting for an answer. I sigh.

"Busted myself up running from a hell of a lot of wendies. Slipped down a verge, almost broke my bow," I say thoughtfully, rubbing my arm gently.

"Why's it still bleeding?"

"Needs stitches. I just had to bandage it up and hope for the best," I shrug and he shuffles, clearing his throat.

"You alone?" My hesitation gives away that I am, so I don't try to lie. I stay silent instead.

"There's a group of us," He starts,

"That's nice, good for you, snaps for the redneck," I say sarcastically, my heart thudding in my chest. Fuck. Fuck. I need to get outta here, right now.

"Forget it," He snaps and I raise my bow. Surprised he tries to raise his crossbow but I've already released my arrow. It just brushes his cheek before piercing the wendy's skull and it hits the floor a few steps behind him. Daryl looks behind him as I lower my bow and looks back at me, hostile confusion written all over his face. I stare back at him before brushing past, unable to stare into his piercing blue eyes any longer. I retrieve my arrow with a slosh of flesh and I wipe the blood on the ground. He's still there, staring at me when I turn around. I bite my lip, looking away.

"Well, I couldn't let it bite you," I mutter, answering the questioning look on his face. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the burning in my cheeks, closing my eyes to the wave of dizziness. What the hell did I do that for? I should've let it eat him! In fact I shouldn't be here at all, I should be long gone, off into the woods, away from him and his group. I have no idea what kind of group that is and I've seen more bad than good in my wanderings. I glance at him before turning to walk away and he grabs my wrist. Fear spikes in my veins as I burl around to face him and he releases me instantly.

"Wait," He says and I try to control my face. Be vicious looking, terrifying looking. Don't let him know you're scared. I carefully arrange my facial expression into one of utter hostility. He licks his lips, nervously glancing away.

"Lemme fix that," He points at my arm. I'm surprised and I force a sickly smile on my face.

"It's ok, really, I'll be fine," I say and I can't hide the fear in my tone. I inwardly curse myself. He looks at me hard for a moment.

"I'm not like that. The group isn't like that," He reassures me in a harsh tone, clearly insulted and embarrassed.

"Would you just come? Someone will fix that,"

"Someone?"

"Well I sure as hell don't know how," He says and I can't help it, I give a little laugh. He visibly relaxes a little when I laugh.

"Why would they do that? They don't know me," I say and he pauses, thinking carefully.

"They're good people,"

The smart things would be to walk away. Get the hell out of here, far from this area, from this man and his group. Instead, I find myself nodding once and following him into the woods.

I shake my head hard, pressing a hand to my head. The guy looks at me and I take away my hand, not wanting to show weakness on his home turf. I feel sick, really sick. A rush of blood to my head and I stand still, closing my eyes to the spinning.

"You ok?"

"Shut up," I snap, still keeping my eyes closed and clutching my head. I swallow repeatedly, trying desperately to get back to normal, to make everything stop spinning. A massive rush of blood runs up my spine straight to the back of my head and I hit the deck.

* * * * *

The whiskey makes a reappearance as I vomit the contents of my stomach. I spit, heaving, dragging my eyes up to see one of those things coming right at me. I stagger to my feet, taking off running.

Sprinting through my sleepy town, I'm surrounded by the sounds of screams, gunfire, shouting, smashes. I keep running in a state of shock, things passing by in a blur. People. People dying. People getting back up again. Dead people getting back up again. Flesh hungry monsters with no discrimination for who or what they stuff in their mouths.

I'm floored by a man, what was once a man, half the flesh from his face hanging off, blood down his shirt. I scramble away, panic spiking in my veins as he gets to his feet, launching himself at me. I grapple with him, resisting the urge to scream when I manage to push him off, getting to my feet and taking off running again.

It happens once more. With a crowbar I steal from a dead mans fingers, I hit the thing, over and over until I drive it into it's eye, which stops it in it's tracks, hitting the ground. Looking at her, my heart stops. My boss. My work boss. I dry heave, nothing left in my stomach to bring up. I'm covered in her blood. Covered in human blood.

I wake up with a jerk, groaning as I blink my eyes to the soft light, closing them again. Nightmares. Always nightmares. I shiver as it replays in my mind. When I can finally open my eyes, they widen as I take in my surroundings. It looks like I'm in an RV. I sit silent. How the fuck did I end up here? I sit up quietly, making as little noise as possible, letting out a small yelp as I try to put weight on my arm. I look at it surprised. The bandage is clean and fresh, with no sign of any more blood. It's been bleeding for days. I can look at it later, right now I need my bow or at the very least my gun which are nowhere to be seen, not even my pouch. I knew it. Good people my ass. Stupid pretty eyes. I throw my legs around and try to get up, sitting back down with a moan as I almost throw up.

"Hey," A man enters, speaking softly. He's dressed in a sheriffs uniform, matching shades of brown with a wide brim hat. I watch him apprehensively as he approaches me slowly, treating me like a wild animal as he takes off his hat and lays it carefully on the counter, offering me a soft smile. With his hat off, I can see the colour of his eyes and they're the same perfect pale blue on a  cloudless day in June.

"My name is Rick, Rick Grimes. I used to be a sheriff before all this started. I'm not gonna hurt you. Daryl brought you here after you passed out. Are you ok?" He speaks carefully, his voice soft and calming. I manage a small nod.

"We took your squirrels, I hope you don't mind. We'll share dinner though,"

"Bit late now if I did mind," I snort and he smiles.

"Yeah that's true. You're banged up pretty bad, Dale reckons you're concussed from when you fell and you're dehydrated. Not to mention the infection in your arm. We've got antibiotics to fix that and Carol stitched you up," He says and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Why are you helping me?" I ask and he raises an eyebrow.

"You needed help, Daryl demanded we help you anyway," I look at him surprised but quickly wipe that from my expression.

"Where's my stuff?"

"Well we only took it away so you didn't shoot me on sight," I can't help it, I give a little laugh.

"That's fair," I say and Rick smiles widely, feeling more comfortable speaking to me now that I've laughed.

"So I have a proposition for you. It's hard out there on your own. We could really use another hunter in the group, it's just Daryl and there's more than a few of us. Help us and we'll help you. However, I won't stop you if you wanna leave, none of us will, we'll return your things and your weapons and you can go on your way," He says looking me directly in the eye and I know he isn't lying. My instincts are telling me to trust him but it's not in my nature to trust so quickly. I bite my lip, mulling it over.

"Can I think about it?" I ask quietly and he smiles.

"Absolutely but try us before you make your mind up," He says and I smile back at him.

* * * * *  

I laughed for way too long at this