#source: guarding tess

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

The President ah say the President is coming to Looneyburg. Will you ah say will you have everything ready in about 11 minutes?

Mayor Leghorn to the Looney Builders

[koshkamartell]

Chapter 1

chapter warnings: pervy!Joel, pervy!Tommy, slut shaming, alcohol consumption, mention of drug use, masturbation.

Joel Miller was frustrated.

Sure, he was almost always grumpy. He usually wore a scowl on his face and he was never short of a biting remark for anyone who dared annoy him. People knew not to bother him or engage with him unless absolutely necessary because of his quick temper.

But the frustration he had been feeling lately was more than just a facet of his surly temperament. There was an obvious reason as to why Joel was meaner than usual - although he wasn't completely cognisant of it himself - and it was because he was sexually frustrated. Completely and infuriatingly sexually frustrated. His mind and body had been forced into survival mode for so long that anything done for the sake of pleasure or joy was frivolous, almost incomprehensible. Even after settling in Jackson Joel could never quite let his guard down. He hadn't made friends or even entertained the thought of dating, and so Joel continued to remain repressed, tightly wound, and irritable.

His younger brother, Tommy Miller, was adept at navigating the storms of his older brother's character and had been Joel's main source of support in the town. Tommy understood the depth of pain Joel had endured and survived throughout the apocalypse and therefore forgave Joel's attitude to a certain degree. Until one day it had all been too much to tolerate.

Joel and Tommy had been working on a carpenting job repairing a set of porch steps for one of the houses. Joel had accidentally hit his thumb with the hammer he was using, causing him to throw the tool across the porch and snarl like an angry dog. Once Joel stopped swearing and blaming Tommy for distracting him and making him strike his own hand, the two brothers walked over to the Tipsy Bison for a drink.

"Ya know, you're actin' like a real asshole lately," Tommy grumbled inbetween sips of beer. "Even more than usual."

Joel just scoffed and took a shot of his whiskey, but purposely avoided meeting Tommy's eyes. He hated when his brother was right.

"Maybe you wouldn't be so cranky if you were gettin' some action," Tommy mused with a teasing little smirk.

Joel frowned at him, his cheeks tinging pink with embarrassment. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, man. You're moody as hell. Wound up tighter than a damn rattlesnake, tryin'a pick fights over nothin', always complainin'." Tommy shakes his head. "Got too much pent up energy. Nothin' a good fuck wouldn't fix."

"Well, maybe I wouldn't be if people around here weren't so goddamn incompetent," Joel snaps back, but there's no malice in his voice. He feels embarrassed and exposed by Tommy's observation. "Got nothin' to do with....that."

Tommy chuckles and tilts his head slightly to the side, his brown eyes shining with a hint of mischievous. "When's the last time you had a woman?"

"None of your business," Joel mutters, turning away from Tommy.

Truthfully Joel cannot remember the last time he laid with a woman - he knows it would have been with Tess, years ago back in the QZ, but he had very little memory of those unremarkable instances of physical closeness. Those times with Tess were not ones of intimacy but rather opportunities for both of them to fuck away their stress and pain. There had never been any desire for more emotion or connection, atleast not on Joel's part.

"Well, maybe it's about time you get yourself back in the game, big brother. Whole new world of datin' and different kinds of people now." Tommy's voice is softer, more earnest now as he eyes Joel.  "Whatever you're lookin' for, it's out there. Romance or just some company."

"Ain't lookin' for anythin', Tom," Joel mumbles before downing another shot of whiskey.

"Okay," Tommy concedes with an offhanded shrug. "Well, if you're ever interested in blowin' off some steam, I know someone who could help."

Joel shoots him a confused look. Tommy's lips quirk into a smug smirk and he leans over the table to quietly answer Joel's unspoken curiosity. Joel instinctively copies his action, turning his head slightly so he can hear better through his good ear.

"There's a woman in town, lives by herself. A widow. Real easy to get into. A few of the guys I know pay her visits, get what they need without any bullshit."

The realisation of what Tommy is insinuating hits Joel with full force. His face contorts with disdain.

"A whore?" Joel hisses lowly, his eyes narrowing on Tommy's.

"Not exactly," Tommy admits. "Don't have to pay her or anythin'. Just take her on a date or some shit. Hell, I think after a while the guys stopped even botherin' with dates. They just go there to fuck her. I hear she gets real horny, like a bitch in heat or somethin'."

Joel's hand tightens around the shot glass on the table. He's disgusted by what Tommy has said, appalled to think of a bunch of men using a woman so carelessly, that a woman would even be so desperate as to allow herself to be used. He's repulsed by the whole thing. Yet there is a tugging sensation in his lower belly that he cannot ignore.

A whore in Jackson.

Joel may be disgusted, but he's also undeniably aroused and intrigued.

I hear she gets horny, like a bitch in heat.

Joel's cock twitches in his jeans. He clears his throat and leans back into the booth, shaking his head. It is disgusting. Filthy. There's no way he would ever meet a woman like that.

Tommy grins and nods his head, the idea already set into motion. "I can set it up for ya."

"Don't," Joel growls. "Told ya, I ain't interested. Especially not in some whore."

That's the end of the conversation and nothing more is mentioned about you. Until two weeks later, when an unexpected meeting happens.

It's been a rough day on patrol for Joel. First, he was paired up with a rookie ranger who was too anxious to steer his own goddamn horse confidently. The rookie almost ended up getting caught in one of the traps set to catch raiders, then they accidentally took the safety off their rifle and fired it into the air. Joel was furious and it took all his restraint not to kill the guy. When they returned to Jackson Joel stalked straight over to Tommy's and Maria's house and demanded the man never work a patrol shift again.

The effects of stress consistently manifested itself in the same ways for Joel; the muscles in his neck and shoulders would tense up and his back would ache, his jaw would clench and his hands would fidget. Today all the chaos from the day weighed heavily on Joel and had taken a toll on his body. Tommy could see the suffering in Joel's eyes and felt bad; after all, it was his responsibility to organise work duties regarding patrolling and thus he felt partly to blame. Although he hadn't predicted any potential issues when he had assigned Joel and the rookie together, Tommy still wanted to make it up to Joel. He tried his best to assuage Joel's ire by dragging him over to the Tipsy Bison for some drinks.

Joel had initially resisted entertaining Tommy's idea but after an hour of playing several rounds of darts and pool, he was actually beginning to loosen up and relax. The alcohol mellowed his mood and eased the agony in his lower back, granting him enough relief to enjoy himself. He even made a bit of small talk with a couple of Tommy's friends that had ended up joining them.

At some stage during the evening Joel was standing in the corner of the bar casually watching one of the pool games. Tommy sidled up next to him with two glasses of whiskey and passed one to Joel.

"Judgin' by your face, I'd say this wasn't such a bad idea after all," Tommy grinned.

"Guess I was overdue for a night out," Joel admitted as he accepted the drink. "But kickin' your ass at darts always makes me feel better."

Tommy barked a laugh and clapped his hand on Joel's shoulder. "Fuck you, man. Ya only won the last round outta sheer luck."

"Bullshit," Joel smirked. "You lost because you got distracted flirtin' with Priscilla."

At the mention of her name, the brothers both looked over past the bar to try and get a glimpse of the kitchen area where Priscilla, the waitress at the Tipsy Bison that night, had disappeared to earlier. There was no sign of the red head woman who had been batting her eyelashes and giggling at Tommy, but only Clyde, the older heavyset bartender who knew all the regular patrons by name.

"Can't help when a woman wants a piece of me," Tommy chuckled playfully.

Joel rolled his eyes. It was typical of Tommy to be a little arrogant when it came to women. Joel remembered the days pre outbreak when Tommy would be reeling in one night stands on a regular basis (when he wasn't getting into drunken fist fights). He had known just what to say to charm a woman, how to apply an effective balance of flirtation and detachment in order to pique her interest. It seemed Tommy's skills were still alive and well even after the outbreak. His older brother, however, had always been the opposite - less wild and carefree, more responsible and mature, not at all interested in something as hollow as a one time sexual encounter.

How and why Maria managed to pin Tommy down and marry him was a mystery to Joel. Although he didn't particularly like the woman, it made Joel uncomfortable to witness Tommy flirt with another women when he was married to Maria.

"Well ya better quit it before Maria finds out and gives you a piece of her mind." Joel warned. "Sure she'd deck you one before you could even come up with some lame excuse as to why your hand was on that girl's ass just now."

Tommy snorted scornfully and downed a mouthful of whiskey. "What she don't know won't hurt her. Besides, a man's got needs."

Joel just shook his head. It wasn't his business, anyway. He was about to challenge Tommy to another game of pool when Tommy suddenly nudged his side with his elbow.

"Hey, hey, look," Tommy whispered hurriedly to Joel. "That's the woman I was tellin' you about."

Tommy titled his head toward a figure that had just strolled in. Joel followed Tommy's line of vision and when his eyes landed on you for the very first time, his heart skipped a beat.

You took a seat on a stool at the bar, shifting to smooth your dress under your ass. You were wearing a simple linen dress with a jacket that gave no indication of what was hiding underneath, and you had worn black boots on your feet. The outfit was mundane, nothing special. Modest is the term his old fashioned southern mother would've used, bless her heart.

Although Joel hadn't concocted much of an idea of how you might have looked inside his head, he was surprised by your appearance. Perhaps he expected you to be more provocatively dressed, with your physical assets on display, enticing whoever might choose to go home with you that night.

Idiot, he chided himself.

When you turned your head at a certain angle Joel was able to get a glimpse of your face. He was struck by how pretty your features were. Even from the distance of where he sat at the booth, he could see you were beautiful. No wonder you had men trying to pursue you - getting into bed with you would be a fucking dream.

Throughout the next half an hour Joel surreptitiously watched you as you sat alone at the bar while you nursed a glass of beer and occasionally chatted with the bartender. You seemed comfortable and confident, a sweet little smile etched on your mouth. But Joel noticed the way your shoulders sagged a little, how your fingers toyed with a bracelet on your delicate wrist. These minute details signalled that you weren't as carefree as you wanted to appear, that maybe you were somewhat nervous in this surrounding.

Why was he so interested to understand more when he doesnt even know you? Get a fucking life, Joel internally reprimands himself. You don't even know this woman.

It isn't like he would ever meet you, either. There's no way in hell he would let Tommy introduce the two of you. He had no intention of approaching you, either. He was not going to walk up and introduce himself and try make conversation with you. What the hell would he say, anyway?

"Hi, my name is Joel Miller. I heard you're an easy lay and love to fuck."

No. Joel was resigned to just watching you instead, like a strange voyeur who didn't even know your name. He justified his little secret surveillance stunt as a means of distraction from the obnoxious conversation around him, from the annoyance of Tommy and his crew laughing loudly and talking shit. He was content just to observe.

Until another man swaggered across the bar room floor and made his way over to you.

And who the hell is this guy?

Joel's hawkish gaze burned into the man as he watched him approach you, leaning against the bar with an arrogant grin on his face.

Is this one of your regulars? Have you been waiting for him to show?

The man came close to your face and said something to you, but Joel couldn't read his lips from so far away. You jerked back and turned your body slightly to the left, away from him, a clear rejection. The man didn't seem detered by your change in posture, though; he stroked his fingers over your shoulder and continued talking, even though you flinched from his touch.

Everything about him exuded a sleazy energy that incited a simmering anger in Joel's stomach. You weren't interested in his guy at all but he just wasn't giving up. Even though you pulled away and shook your head, he leaned closer and whispered something in your ear. Whatever he said had its intended affect; Joel saw your face crumple before you hurriedly slipped off of the bar stool and scampered out of the bar. The man remained, unmoving but chuckling to himself with what looked like cruel satisfaction.

What the hell just happened?

Joel didn't even think before he stood up from his seat and strode toward the saloon style doors, like an invisible magnet being pulled to follow you. He did not stop to question just why he felt an overwhelming need to chase after you and check that you are alright, for he was impelled in such a way that he himself cannot fathom.

Joel exited the bar and followed your silhouette into the darkness of the evening, forgetting all about Tommy and the others.

You are not even half way down the main street before Joel quickly catches up to you with long strides of his legs. He thinks to reach out and touch your arm to get your attention but he doesn't want to scare you. Instead, he approaches your side but stays a respectful distance from you.

"Excuse me ma'am, are you alright?" He asks gently.

You stop walking and turn to face him, your eyes wide and brimmed with unshed tears. Now he is up close and can see your face in more detail, Joel feels an immediate pang of attraction to you. He is momentarily startled by how your eyes shine under the light of the streetlamp.

Pretty.

You instinctively take a step back and eye him warily, your brow furrowing slightly.

"I'm sorry," you reply, voice a little croaky with restrained emotion. "Have we met?"

Oh, that voice. You sound like a damn angel.

Joel swallows thickly and gives a shake of his head. "No, we haven't. My name's Joel. Joel Miller. I'm Tommy's brother."

You blink and sniff, a pathetic little sound, then give him your name in return. "Hi Joel. Yes, I'm okay."

It's a lie, Joel knows. You aren't crying but it is obvious that you aren't quite okay. Joel clears his throat and stands with his hands on his hips, suddenly feeling awkward. He doesn't know what to say, but he's also curious about the interaction with the man at the bar.

"I, uhm, I saw that guy in there, looked like he was botherin' ya."

You purse your lips and glance down at your shoes. He studies your body language intently as you wrap an arm around your middle and scuff at the ground with the tip of your boot. "Yeah, he's not a very nice person." You respond, low and soft. "But it's okay. I mean, I'm okay."

Joel nods. For some reason he feels compelled to ask for more details, to know just what was said to you to illicit your reaction and make you run away like that, but he holds his tongue. You are strangers, after all.

"Um, okay then," you nod back curtly, feeling just as awkward as Joel. "Thank you. Goodnight."

"Wait, please." Joel inwardly cringes at the sound of his own voice, how his request sounds more like a plea than anything else. He hasn't spoken this many words to a woman for a long time and he feels incredibly self conscious, but the chivalrous part of him doesn't feel right that you are walking home alone when you're hurting. "You want me to walk you back home?"

His offer seems to immediately sour the interaction between you two. Something flashes in your eyes and a sound escapes your lips, something between a sigh and a scoff. There's an invisible wall suddenly put up, a palpable boundary that radiates from the change in your energy and the furrow of your brow. You are angry, annoyed. Insulted.

"No, I'm good thanks, Joel." Your clipped reply comes as you whip around and resume your journey home. You mutter something to yourself that Joel cannot catch. He stays frozen to the spot for a few seconds, slightly bewildered by what has just happened. He soon springs into action, that possessive pull urging him toward you once more, and he swiftly follows you again. But this time he does dare to reach out to touch you, gently placing his hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, whoa. What's goin' on? Did I say somethin' wrong?"

You fling around to meet his gaze and glare up at him. "You can cut the chivalrous act," you snap. "Because it isn't happening, not tonight. Got it?"

Joel isn't discouraged by your defensive attitude. In fact he finds your assertiveness makes you even more alluring. Maybe you have a little more bite than what your appearance suggests. 

"What are you talkin' about?" Joel asks softly, his hooded eyes staring into yours.

"Yeah, right," you snort. "Like you're really not pretending to be concerned about me just so you can get in my pants."

The accusation hits him like an arrow to the chest and his mouth hangs open in shock. The insinuation that his kindness is a only pretence to acquire something sexual from you offends him immensely; it is his turn to feel indignant now.

"Excuse me?" Joel growls out. "I was just makin' sure that creep didn't step outta line!"

His reaction visibly takes you by surprise; the look of resentment quickly disappears from your eyes and your features soften, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth as you listen to his words. You almost look sheepish.

"I got no such intentions," Joel states with a shake of his head. "'M sorry to bother you, g'night."

He's about to turn away when you suddenly reach out and grasp onto his wrist, giving it a small squeeze before quickly letting it go. He freezes in place at the contact, momentarily dazed by your touch. He can't remember the last time a woman touched him and the whole situation feels surreal. He clears his throat and waits for you to speak, too embarrassed to meet your eye now, opting instead to stare down at his boots.

"Joel, no, I'm sorry," you sigh heavily. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just...well, I don't really have many friends here. And sometimes people get the wrong idea about me."

The wrong idea. What could that mean?

Despite not knowing, Joel feels a twinge of empathy for you. He is no stranger to judgement or being on the receiving end of someone's preconceived prejudice. He's reminded of Maria's hesitancy to accept him in the community when he first showed up, how some of the residents refused to even look his way, the whispers around town that he was a cold blooded murderer who would reek havoc on Jackson. Deep down it still hurts him to think about.

"It's alright." Joel murmers. "I'm sorry, too. Probably scared ya a bit, just comin' up outta no where."

You hum softly in agreement. "It's alright, really. It's nice that someone cares enough to ask."

A surge of relief rushes through Joel to see you are no longer upset. There is something about your smile, the tiny upturn of the corners of your mouth, that gives Joel a strange thrill of gratification. No one has ever had such an effect on him before; no one has ever made Joel want to prove his quality of character, to show his genunity to.

"Still wanna walk me, or have you changed your mind?" You inquire a little teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

Joel can't help but let the hint of a smile ghost his lips. "Still happy to. If that's what you want."

"I'll lead the way."

Under your guidance, Joel chaperones you through several streets across town to the area where you live. The journey takes less than ten minutes and neither of you talk much. Your energy is refreshingly relaxed and calm, and you seem satisfied to just gently hum and occasionally stare up to admire the twinkling stars in the sky. Joel, however, is silent, his jaw clenching with tension; his mind is preoccupied with the echo of Tommy's voice.

They just go there to fuck her.

That is certainly not what Joel's goal is tonight, yet he cannot shake that low, sly intonation of Tommy's word from rattling around inside his head. Just how many guys have walked to your home using this very same path that Joel walks on now?

But something just isn't clicking for Joel. If you were such a slut, why were you so affronted by the mere possibility of him expecting more from you? From what Tommy told him, you should be more than willing to have a man ask to take you home.

Maybe Tommy was one of the people who had the wrong idea about you.

"It's just over there," your voice broke through his thoughts, directing him to the turn down the next lane.

Your neighbourhood was one of the more secluded residential parts of the commune, primarily comprised of cottages and small houses. Joel follows you halfway down the street to where your own cottage is located, nestled between an empty plot on one side and a modest looking house on the other side. The whole quarter looks vastly different to his own large two storey home and the others that surround it. Joel's neighbourhood is without a doubt more aesthetically pleasing and closer to the town centre, making it alot easier to access whatever supplies or services he needs to.

Maybe it was just a shit luck of the draw, Joel thinks. Families always take priority in regards to housing, after all.

The first thing he notices about your cottage is the bed of flowers in the meagre garden of your front yard. It is charming, a scant feature of beauty in an otherwise unremarkable habitat. He vaguely wonders what your garden looks like in the light of day, if the flowers are even more vibrant than they are under the lone street lamp on the sidewalk.

"Well, this is me," you say softly, trailing up to the porch. Joel grunts in response, lingering a little behind you.

The exterior of your cottage appears weathered and in need of a coat of paint. Joel doubts the foundation is durable enough to withstand the cold Wyoming weather. He makes a mental note to talk to the committee about it at the next meeting.

You turn to face Joel and notice him eyeing the broken swing that hangs pathetically on your porch. "It's always been like that." You grimace. "I've been meaning to get it fixed, but it always slips my mind."

"I can do it." Joel blurts out without thinking. "I can fix it."

"What? Really?" You raise your brows, surprised.

Joel nods resolutely. He approaches the swing and bends down to examine the splintered planks, running a hand along the frame to check for more cracks. "Won't take long to do. Just need some new wood, maybe a coat of paint."

"You know how to do that kinda stuff?" You question curiously.

"Mm-hm. Was a contractor back in the day," Joel murmers. "Can do it whenever you want."

"How's this Sunday?" You offer almost immediately.

Joel's head snaps up to look at you, eyes wide, briefly stupefied by your eagerness. You give him a grin and a little shrug, and Joel feels a tinge of pink bloom over the apples of his cheeks.

"Uhm, yeah, okay," Joel clears his throat. "Sunday mornin' alright with you?"

"Perfect." You gift him a sweet smile of appreciation. "Well, you know where I live. Thanks for walking me home."

Joel just nods as he straightens back upright, his eyes shifting to avert his gaze  back to the street. "G'night."

"Goodnight, Joel," you all but purr before opening your door and slipping inside.

Joel meanders back to his own house, feeling dazed. He recounts his interaction with you over and over in his mind, recreating the nuances of your body language, the silky lilt of your voice, the way that firey sparkle danced in your eyes when you challenged him. Your words replay over and over, the sound of his name floating from your mouth, your barely audible humming.

When Joel gets home he fucks his fist until he climaxes with a startling intensity and his warm cum spills over his pillowy stomach.

[feathersandfoxtails]

Still Life

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Tess Servopoulos/Joel Miller Rating: Mature (non-explicit sex) Words: 1K

Summary: A snapshot of Tess and Joel. Takes place in 2032, the year before the events of Season One.

Notes: Happy Day Before Season 2, y'all. I re-watched season 1 recently and have never gotten Tess out of my brain. Also, "Anna Begins" by Counting Crows snuck in here.

The crunch of leaves under Tess’ feet makes her cringe. She used to love Autumn— the cooling temperatures and changing leaves always signaled the beginning of a rebirth for the earth to her. But now the once-loved scent of dried leaves just hits her nose as decay. Not to mention the danger of noise they carry. 

She freezes and darts her eyes around the nearby buildings. As a minute passes and nothing moves or makes another sound, she wills her muscles to relax. Slipping through a hole in the fence, she keeps her head down even through the dark streets. If she's caught by the guards, they've noticed her too many times for her to talk her way out and she's low on funds for bribes. 

Thankfully her tried and true path back to the apartment is clear so she finally lets out a long breath as she closes the door of the building behind her. She's still as quiet as she can be making her way up the stairs; there are only a few other people in the building, but disturbing them from sleep will win her no favors. The others are already afraid of her, but no use pissing them off to the point where they get it in their heads to turn her in for a reward.

"The hell you been?"

She's barely inside the door before Joel's rasping voice bombards her. 

Taking off her jacket, she begins unloading her pockets. "Relax, I got caught up on the way back."

"Caught?" His eyebrow arches. 

"Clicker. Took care of it." She puts her handgun on the table before looking at him. His shoulders relax. Knowing he's worried but not overly concerned when she's out comforts her a little. He knows she can take care of herself, which is a main source of her pride. Knowing he wants her to come back-- but because he can't run the operations on his own or because.... she inwardly stops herself from thinking that and looks away. Because if you don't want to talk about it then it isn't love. 

She knows he trusts her as she trusts him. That trust has been hard won, but she has faith that he is loyal to a fault. He would never abandon her for another deal or another woman. And there is some peace in that. 

After she finishes unloading, she looks back at him. His deep brown eyes are almost inscrutable, but she's known him long enough now to be able to read them and see that the worry is still there this time. She cocks her head a little and steps closer, runs her fingers along his greying temple. 

Joel closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them Tess no longer sees that whisper of worry. There are times when he is easy to soothe, quiet moments like this where no actual danger is present, simply the wisp of previous possibility. The louder moments, mostly in the night as he fights sleep, take longer. But she doesn't begrudge him those moments-- lord knows she has her own matching ones. The difference is that he could be soothed, but her restless heart would never calm itself. The difference is part of her still cared. 

She pulls him to her, smashing her lips against his. It surprises him, but he quickly reciprocates hungrily. She knows she can always count on that out of him. The human need is always there even if the world around them has crumbled. She needs it, too, and it doesn't bother her to say this isn't love. She's already been forced to kill one husband and she's not looking for another, just a way to live with that. 

Pushing that thought far from her mind to keep out the rest that accompanies it, she concentrates on Joel's hands moving down to her waist, lifting her shirt. Raising her arms, she lets him pull her shirt over her head, then searches for his lips once more. 

They seek comfort in each other's bodies that is rushed at first. Grasping at the other, fingers trailing, small moans from her, almost imperceptible grunts from him. But when he enters her, he slows and she catches his glance again. Holding it, she rocks her hips, setting the pace from under him. They move together until he stills, letting his weight come down on her. She runs her fingers through his hair, lets herself have a moment of holding him with her arms and legs. Then she pushes him away gently, which he never fights. 

She positions herself against his chest so she can listen to his deep breaths, like holding a shell to her ear to listen to the ocean. It's starting to rain, which will also help calm her mind. She's figured out why it’s chattering so much today and why the past is running around her thoughts. 

Autumn. The anniversary of it all. Of seeing those faces she loved more than anything change. Choosing to save herself and leave him locked away.... but no, going down that road will pull her apart for days. And that's where the worry in those normally reassuring eyes of Joel's came from-- his past seeps back this time of year as well. They never discuss their children, but they know the other knows the feeling if not the details. 

If it's love, then she'll have to deal with the consequences. And she's not ready for that sort of thing. If she puts her whole self into one thing or one person, she knows they will just be taken from her. Or she will have to make a different choice this time.

The rain falls down outside and she turns, her back against him now, and wraps his big arms around her, listens as his breath evens out into sleep. She has no illusions about how things end in this world. She just wonders which of them will be the first to go. 

[lysistratawrites]

when you’re lost in the dark (chapter 1)

You know what they say: when you’re lost in the dark, look for the light.

Pairing: Original Female! Character x Joel Miller.

A/n: Joel with his own little ‘light’ 😌 let’s delight with papa bear sticking around Hanna.

Warnings: canon violence, age gap, smut, dom!Joel, fingering.

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Tagging list: @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

Her eyes go to the sign again, and the noises coming from the others don’t help to ease her temper. She reads it for the upteenth time since her arrival there, when the soldiers cuffed her to the cot like they did with the rest, and she does her best to keep herself calm, repeating the symptoms of the infection to herself: coughing, slurred speech, muscle spasms, mood changes.

It is worthless when her attention inevitably goes to the man in front of her, his unkempt wails and the twitching of his limbs torturing her.

“Guards!”

When they were brought there he insisted on having themselves introduced to each other, and now it is harder to see how Father Eustace Nichols succumbs to the Cordyceps, pain altering his senses and his brain being replaced by the fungus.

“GUARDS!” she yells, trying her best to keep her breathing steady, curling on her cot, her arms embracing her legs tightly and her face trying to not face death itself in front of her.

How merciless is to have her witness her future.

The doctors had told them all that they would take part in a study in order to help population to get a cure to the infection, they had divided them all in small groups in rooms of a hospital floor and had vaccinated them all, supposedly with a macrodose of vitamines. If anybody tried to fly away, soldiers shot them down.

There is no escape. It never had been.

“GUARDS!”

By the time four FEDRA soldiers arrive the pastor has lost the capacity of saying anything remotely understandable —his last words had been a gritted plea for help.

“Shoot him down, he suffers.”

She stays still, unable to look at what once was a respected man in his community, now a being driven by violence and impulses, the only priority to spead the disease.

Would she become one too?

The supoosed vitamins had been shot in different parts of the body to each of them: legs, arms, belly, neck, chest. The secrecy of that proyect had loomed over them all until some of the people who got the vaccines started to give up to an unknown source of Cordyceps infection, being the only ones to change, transforming into something unrecognizable.

“Kill ‘im or I’ll do it.”

She knows that she has to show herself strong, to show the doctors and the soldiers that, after days of being there and being tortured with the wails of other people forced to be there and being experimented with, she can endure it and fight back whatever they had shot her with.

“Sorry. Doctors are the only ones to authorize th—”

She cannot see it because she has been forced herself to not to, but the noise of breaking steel calls everybody’s attention, and it is then when she knows that there is no escape.

…

Boston QZ. 10 years later.

It all hurts, but what worries her the most is her face; she can hide bruises and conceal any flinch of pain as best as she can —she is used to it since forever, she still has the feeling of having dozens of eyes upon her back sometimes.

She blends up with the rest of the workers, a bandana covering the lower part of her face, hiding almost all the cut of her cheek, and lowers her head as she is driven to the usual spot with the rest, silent, her mind roaming the possible alternatives to get back that damned battery.

Fuck, Joel will get really mad.

As always, close to the District 5’s filthy sign there is already people working, among them a friendly face.

“Remind me to choose another job next time.” she grits, unable to keep a straight face.

“Get used to eat shittier food, then.”

Tess scoffs as an answer, and she is thankful to find herself with someone who can still joke around in times like these.

They do not stop until there are no guards around, keeping any possible conversation to themselves in case anybody may listen to them, the time for a break announcing the return to the surface for a brief moment of respite. The air, although still heavy with the scent of the city, feels fresher compared to the stifling atmosphere they left behind in the tunnels. They both collapse against the side of a dilapidated building, the rough texture of the bricks a sharp contrast to the smooth, cold metal they had been navigating through below ground. The silence between them is comfortable, a mutual understanding that words are unnecessary for the moment.

A silence broken the moment she lowers the bandana covering her face.

“Jesus Christ, sister. You look like shit.”

She just winces at the words, leaning her head back against the rubble of the wall, sighing.

“It looks that bad?”

“Well, yesterday your lip was in one piece. The fuck happened?”

She throws a side glance to the woman, watching her take off a small worn pouch from one of the pockets of her clothes, her swift fingers pulling out a cigarette and leaving it between her lips before starting to pat her clothes searching for matches.

“Wanted to give Ol’ Man a gift.” Out of the pocket of her jeans she takes an old lighter, rusty on one of its sides, and atretches her arm towards Tess offering it to her. “Turns out I got scammed.”

The little flame from the lighter catches her attention, fire burning the tip of the cigarette with almost surgical precission.

“It happened to us all.”

“Fought back to at least get the cards back. All I got is my ass kicked in return.”

After a long puff, Tess offers her the cigarette, and despite the tautness of her broken lip and the pain of it, she lazily puts it between her lips, closing her eyes as she inhales the smoke.

“Who scammed you?”

She takes a moment to think. She has two options ahead and for an instant she doubts between which one she should take: lie to her and Joel and tell them any scumbag beat her or tell the truth and face the consequences of having decided to deal with one of the least desirable men in the whole Boston QZ. What worries her the most is Joel’s reaction, capable of taking a jackknife and get revenge by his own hand.

“Robert. He did it. Turns out my gift to Joel was sold to somebody else.”

“Holy shit… Hanna, girl! He could’ve killed you. His goons are around the whole damn district, and those fuckers are worse than the Fireflies.”

“Look at me in the eye and tell me who the fuck can get you a battery without pushing you to suck his dick?”

She passes the cigarette to Tess, and she hums as a first answer.

“Good point.”

Not far from where they are pass a pair of FEDRA soldiers, their arms pointing to the ground as they yap about any disgusting thing, oblivious to the world around them. She clenches her jaw at that sight, angry with the world for pushing her to stay a while more in the QZ and having to face the substitute of the Government in the face.

“Gonna find that piece of shit and get my battery back.” she grits, her left hand fingers playing with the lighter in a futile attempt to ease her mood.

The overlyknown cold voice from the megaphones interrupts their conversation, the announcement of the oncoming curfew time making them both stand up, Hanna wincing at the dull pain on her side, silent, used to carry her own burdens by herself.

“Go home” Tess’s green eyes don’t flinch when they look at hers, almost motherly instinct flowing at the surface. “Tomorrow we’ll find that son of a bitch.”

…

With a slam on the door he comes into the appartment, already used to the downgrade compared to his home before the outbreak but it still stings to not being able to give Hanna the life she deserves. Once the door is properly locked his feet drag him to the chest of drawers by the bed and easily he moves it aside, lifting a pair of woodplanks from the floor and taking the maps he has been keeping for the very moment they get the chance to fly away from the city.

He frowns when he sits on the chair before them, a pen on the table next to a bottle of shitty whiskey and a glass, trying his best to keep his mind clear. The tip of a finger locates Boston in the map, and before he can start searching for a route to follow his eyes go to where the operator has marked down the place of the radio tower: Cody, Wyoming.

Wyoming. The fuck is Tommy doing there.

He pours some whiskey in the glass and drinks it in one fell swoop, pouring some more before his finger starts tracing the possible routes to go there. They already had it all, an old FEDRA truck left alone in the city outside the QZ, it had took quite a lot of ration cards and some of the pills and cigarettes from Bill’s stash, but now the only thing to take care of is the battery, more expensive and harder to find than gasoline.

They can start looking for it the next day. He can even ask Tess to use some of her network to find one, or go to Bill and Frank’s and see if they still have something to use… Maybe a full car, or a pick-up. Fuck it, even a school bus would be perfect.

He drinks down the second glass when the megaphone announcing the beginning of curfew makes him clench his jaw, his attention swifting from the plans to find Tommy to the fact of being past 6pm and being alone. She is a big girl, but he cannot help to think that maybe she got involved in something bigger than her, or found herself in the middle of one of the FEDRA counterattacks against those lunatics of the Fireflies, the idiots have been bombing the shit out of the QZ all week.

His eyes go to the little bag of hydrocodone pills, courtesy of Bill, and his mind drifts along the possibility of having one when the sound of a key tempting to go into the lock of the door calls his attention. Silently he stands up, quickly reaching the door and grabbing a bowie he puts his hand over the handle, only to feel it moving from the other side, and Hanna’s eyes looking directly at his.

“Honey, I’m home.” she tilts her head, her voice laced with a hint of sass.

He lets her pass, leaving the knife where it was as his gaze roams over her, delighting himself with every single detail of her body, how she toes off her boots by the door and goes to the table, her bright eyes observing the maps, her teeth softly biting her lower lip.

“Any news?”

She doesn’t lift her face to him, and for a moment he doesn’t know if she is hiding something from him or truly interested in searching for a man she never knew.

“Where were you, Hanna?”

An explosion blocks away from where they are makes her lift her gaze, and he can spot the cut on her cheek, open, a drop of blood threatening to slide down her face.

“Western district” she spits out, looking back at him, fully aware of him having noticed her wounds, the fire in her eyes never extinguished. “I had finished my shift and the fucking Fireflies decided to put a bomb on the 5th. Tess was with me.” As she talks he goes to the kitchen to pick up a piece of cloth and giving it to her after having dampened it in cold water —lately the only one to run down the tap of any appartment in the Boston QZ. “FEDRA put this improvised checkpoint” she takes it, the brush of her fingers against his ignite a spark inside him. “I’m fine, Joel.”

It takes him a couple of seconds to decide that he couldn’t care less about that story when her face is not in the same state it was when she left for work.

“Gonna explain this?” he gestures to his own cheek as he observes her clenching her jaw.

A sigh.

“Had a deal. The whole thing went south and I got jumped by these two assholes, allright? They hit well and— Look, I managed—”

“Give me that” he breathes, his brow furrowed in a mix of anger and something he can’t quite name, before taking the cloth from her hands and softly lifting her chin with only his thumb and his index finger. “These assholes still with us?” he mumbles, carefully tapping the cut on her cheek, noticing how she tries to not wince; it is not that deep, and surely she will not need any stitches, but he is still worried.

“Not one of them. I’m not sure about the other, he may not make it for tomorrow.” she lifts her eyebrows as she looks at him, and, despite the circumstances, he couldn’t be prouder.

She has always fought, her rebellious spirit has lead her to some kind of trouble more than once, forging her into somebody resilient, able to stand still even when the odds are against. He adores that of her.

“So, you had a deal.” she nods with a hum. “Alone.” she nods again, and he leaves the cloth on the table. “Why? The fuck were you thinking about?”

“Wanted to give you a gift.”

He sighs and sits back in the chair he was when she arrived, pinching his nose in a huff. The last time somebody he cared for had gifted him something—or tried to—had ended up with a bullet perforating her lung.

“Han, fuck… Y’know there’s no need of that.” He closes his eyes for a moment, and the reassuring weight of her body on his lap pushes him to open them again, her features sculpted by the dim lights of the place. His gaze roams along her, drinking every detail like a thirsty man in the desert. She is beautiful. Really. A delicate flower in a world torn apart. His treasure.

“But I wanted to” she mutters, one of her arms going over the lower part of his back searching for a grip as one of his hands go to her thigh, gently gripping it over the jeans. “There was this battery we could use to go find Tommy, and I wanted to give you a surprise.”

A battery. She had risked herself for a battery.

“Promise me next time you get those crazy ideas somebody goes with you, okay?” she nods, and with his free hand he brushes a lock of hair from her face, softly tucking it behind her ear, before cupping her face and her lips suppose a temptation too hard to fight, even with her lower lip split in two. He leans on her, pressing a tender kiss to her mouth, careful of the wound. “You're crazy, you know that?” he whispers against her lips, a soft chuckle from her pushing out a smile from him.

He likes when she just gives up and they can take their time to just be together, savoring the fleeting peace in a world that knows so little of it. Sometimes it is him who starts, sometimes she takes the lead, but tonight it feels different, more fragile and precious than ever before.

“How’s the search going?”

If they can allow themselves to bribe the radio caller is because of her work, he knows that well, because despite both of them choosing the hardest tasks to get more ration cards, sometimes he needs to rely on the ones she brings back home and some parts of the cargo they smuggle to get material or information about the only family he has left.

“No news.”

“Last message was last week.”

“I know.”

“Maybe Abe was dozing?”

“He says Gabriella or his eldest son are listening while he sleeps. Got where last message came.”

When she turns to look at the map again he finds himself observing the little wrinkles on her brow as she clearly does not expect the marked place.

“Wyoming? The fuck is Tommy doing there?”

She turns to face him again and he swears he would gladly get lost in those bright eyes of hers.

“Do I look like I know, sugar?”

She kisses him this time, and he lets the moment linger, feeling the warmth of her lips chase away the cold dread that thinking about Wyoming brings. Abe had talked about raiders and slavers, and he is more worried about those than about the infected.

“Who ripped you off?” He mumbles against her lips, welcoming the comfort of her hand against his cheek, gently cupping it, her thumb lazily getting lost on his beard as she swiftly leaves his lips and starts to trail soft kisses along his jawline. “Han, babe…” he sighs, letting her do, not noticing the hand upon his face has gone until the sound of a zipper going down grates against the silence between words. “Come on—“

The feeling of that softness against his fingers is almost enough to drive him insane. He relishes it letting her drive his hand down her body, reaching under her clothes, the tips of his fingers grazing her pussy, already wet in all its glory.

“Jesus, baby girl—” he breathes at the feeling, his fingers tracing the shape of her folds on their own, already knowing their way.

“Promise me you won’t get mad.”

If he has any suspicion that she had dealt with somebody she shouldn’t have, her words confirm it.

“Speak, woman.”

He gasps when she finds that specific spot of his neck, the one that she knows well.

“Only if you give me your word that you won’t get mad.” she purrs, lips against his skin.

A muffled moan escapes her lips when two of his fingers go inside her, slowly, reaching in a couple of thrusts that special part that drives her insane.

He likes it, when they take their time to just explore each other with no rush, only their pleasure and comfort as their shared priority.

“I do.”

When he opens his eyes, the vision of her face contorted in the search of an oncoming rapture half hidden in the nape of his neck is a vision he will never get tired of. The dim light coming from the nearest lamp casts shadows on her that push him to go further, to rip a moan from her able to make the walls tremble, to lose himself in the curves of her body and stay there forever.

“The guys who jumped me were with Robert.”

That’s it.

“Han—“

“He sold our battery to somebody else.”

Out of anger he thrusts harder, grunting a curse, and a little whine comes from her lips as she cups his face with both hands, almost forcing him to not stand up.

“Joel. Joel. Look at me.” she mumbles peppering soft kisses over his face. “Please, don’t.”

“If that motherfucker thinks he can hurt you… Where is he?”

“Don’t know. Yet.” She kisses him and he lets her do, her ministrations have always soothed his temper. “I met Tess by the sewers, she’ll get some information. Tomorrow we’ll go after that rat.” As she talks, she keeps planting little kisses over his face, mewling whenever he is rougher than he should. “Stay with me tonight, love, please.” She pants, her hips bucked against his hand as he keeps going, finding his own delight in her warmth, his safe space.

He keeps going until a silent moan breaks the peace of the place, her back arching and her head tilted back as he helps her chase her bliss, always prioritising his baby girl.

“Don’t ever do this to me again, understood?” He mutters with a raspy voice once she leans against his chest, nuzzling his neck, lazy fingers unbuttoning his shirt. She nods with a hum, and he cups her face with the same tenderness he did before when he was cleaning her wounds and the mere brush of his lips against hers sends shivers down his spine. “Bed. Now.”

…

For a moment she wishes they could stay like this forever, with her eyes closed and her face towards Joel, almost nuzzling into the warmth of his chest. It feels safe there, hidden away from the world’s cruelties. The rhythm of his breathing reveals that he is sound asleep, and the weight of his arm over her waist feels like a shield ready to protect her.

All her hopes are shattered with a constant knock on the door, and before she can even notice she has left the comfort and security of Joel’s arms and changed it for the adrenaline that gives to hunt Robert down.

“How’s your face, kiddo?” Tess’s scrutinising eyes observe her features as the morning sun allows her to take a better look.

“Have been better, but can’t complain.” Hanna just shrugs her shoulders, trying to play it off. The truth is, her face still throbs with a dull pain that pulses with each heartbeat, but she knows better than to admit weakness. She has always been that stubborn.

The directions Tess got drive them to a tunnel by District 11, and they find themselves walking along the old underground tunnels, the rain from outside sweeping through the concrete and asphalt and creating small rivers at their feet.

“Remember: the door will be marked with a ‘U’ and a dot inside it.”

The three of them walk stuck to the walls, always an eye on the emergency exits and the possible noises from outside because a part of their journey goes close to where FEDRA soldiers patrol regularly. Each footstep echoes ominously, and their breaths are held more often than not, held tight against the tension in the air. Each of them holds a gun at the ready, fingers hovering near triggers, senses on high alert, three bullets with the name ‘Robert’ in it.

Hanna’s torchlight finds their destination, and quickly the three of them get into a tiny room, a steel table with lots of filing cabinets around and an old computer in it await them.

Along with an infected stuck to the wall, the fungus spread that much into the body that ended up draining it from any life it could have.

“Holy fuck!”

Tess gets startled, and Hanna and Joel quickly rise their guns to find the dreadful corpse.

“Dude…” a low whistle escapes Hanna’s lips “Think he came ‘ere to die after he was infected?”

“Maybe here’s where he got infected” Joel grunts, both of them looking at Tess to keep guiding them.

They keep going, getting more and more into the building, taking a route that Hanna thinks that possibly may not appear in the blueprint.

They are climbing up a ladder when Joel starts talking about the building, giving useless comments about a possible reframing of the whole building, earning a snarky comment from her.

“Gotta find a distraction, doll, your bum wiggling right on my face ain’t helpin’.”

Hanna chuckles at the comment, and Tess, leading the group, tuts at them both, making them stop as soon as they reach the top of the ladder, finding a closed door in front of them.

“This should lead to the hallway…” Tess tries to open it, pointlessly “The fuck? Somebody put a piano or something?”

This time is Hanna the one to shush the others, raising a hand at the same time she wrinkles her nose, noticing the smell of gunpowder. Joel’s torchlight points to the floor when the three of them hear something leaking on the floor, and the sight of blood trickling from beneath the door catches their attention.

“Fuck it.”

With a strong push Hanna opens the door, and the three of them find that along the hallway half a dozen of corpses lay with different bullet holes in them.

“Look, the motherfucker!”

Robert’s dead body had been the one to keep the door closed. Carelessly Hanna approaches him and ignoring any possible reprimand from her friends she kicks the corpse a couple of times out of spite, even spitting on him once as a sort of revenge, as Tess spots the battery, completely useless.

“He tried to sell it. Twice. Greedy fuck…”

The three of them go down the hallway, slowly, trying to avoid any debris that can unveil their position. The stench of blood, death and gunpowder is strong enough to alert their senses, and the three of them know that sooner or later FEDRA will be there.

A grunt calls their attention. Two women leaning one against the other. They bleed. While Tess and Hanna point at them with their guns, Joel’s attention shifts to somewhere else, suddenly throwing against the wall a small figure that has thought that the best idea is to try and attack somebody like Joel Miller with a simple switchblade.

“Joel?” Calls one of the bleeding women.

“Marlene?”

…

“So Robert screwed us with the Queen of Fireflies?” Hanna scoffs by his side. “Wonderful.”

She has always hated the Fireflies—specifically the woman clutching her side with trembling hands.

The kid by the wall tries to get back her switchblade, and with a quick kick of it, the knife goes back, landing on Hanna’s boots, and he knows well that both of the women with him share similar feelings towards who is in front of them.

“Point at me, not her.” Marlene pleads, like knowing she can be expendable, that her life is currently escaping between her fingers.

He changes his aim towards the leader of the Fireflies, and so does Tess. He knows they have to be quick, and that maybe they can get back at least a part of the cards Hanna paid for the supposedly good battery.

“What do you need a car battery for?”

“For better reasons than you.” Breathes Marlene, and Joel can feel the grip on his gun go tighter. “No offence, but Tommy is just one man.”

Of course. The fucking Fireflies have snitches every damn where. Hanna had told him a million times before.

“FEDRA’s on its way here, our crew is fucked up and we have almost no ammo. We had readied a squad to get the kid out of the QZ tonight, but it all went to shit. Instead, you will do it.”

Complaints. His, the kid’s, the woman next to Marlene’s.

“I know what you’re capable of. For better or worse. Take the kid to the State House and you’ll get a fueled-up truck, guns, ammo. All the package. A team will wait for Ellie there.”

Only Hanna’s gun points at them as the three of them gather in the opposite part of the hallway, exposing their points of view between mumblings and furrowed brows. He doesn’t want to do it, hoping that, by some magical twist, another option might present itself. And yet, deep down, he knows there’s no escape from this new burden.

“Okay” Tess cranes her neck as Hanna lowers her gun. “We’ll do it. Tell your people that we’ll deliver the girl only when they have given us the whole stuff. If they don’t, we kill her there.”

“What?”

“Deal.”

“Hey!”

Hanna, always the kind heart, approaches the kid, who is still on the floor, and lends her a hand, reluctantly taken by the brat.

“C’mon. It’ll be quick. Those two are nice people, you’ll see.”

…

He hates the idea, but something deep inside him has pushed him to accept, and it shows.

“She’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“Bullshit.” He mumbles, his eyes going from the door to the window, and a thunder at the other side of it doesn’t help to soothe his temper.

The kid is important, so important the leader of the Fireflies had let them both take care of her while Hanna had gone with her to see the cargo.

“You should’ve seen the look on her eyes” he mutters when he thinks the brat—Ellie— doesn’t hear them. None of them knows the background, none of them has seen the consequences of a past led by turbulences. He knows.

And it hurts like hell.

The sound of keys scraping the lock of the door startle the three of them, leading him to unconsciously search for his gun as his eyes are still on the door, his hand abandoning the task when he spots the figure of Hanna coming into the apartment with haste.

“Holy fuck, there’re soldiers everywhere.” She mutters, reaching them both, for a moment forgetting the presence of the girl by the window, her eyes observing the storm outside “Saw the cargo. There’s a lot.”

Her gaze catches a glimpse of hope, even excitement, and he likes that. Despite the bad things she’s gone through, she still believes in something he thinks he has forgotten about. He envies her.

“The spot under Lancaster looks good.”

“Okay, take your jackets, let’s go.”

And before he can even notice, they are already walking along the tunnels, tracing a path perfectly known for him after years of making it. The dark walls are slick with moisture, the faint echoes of their footsteps barely rising above the quiet murmur of the city above. They only stop when they reach the metallic stairs leading them to the surface. It takes him a gesture to indicate the three of them to wait there so he can peek out and see if there is any patrol around to spot them in the storm. He cautiously ascends the steps, the metal cold against his palm, and pauses just beneath the dampen wooden planks put there as a sort of trapdoor, hiding the tunnel at plain sight.

Nobody around.

“C’mon. Go, go, go.” He mumbles, helping them all to go out. First Tess, then Ellie and then Hanna. “You okay, sugar?” She nods, silently, and a gnawing feeling inside him tells him that he will need to keep an extra watchful eye on her, at least until she decides to talk to him.

If only she would have stayed with the kid instead of going with Marlene.

Among debris and shadows they swiftly make their way to the outside, almost reaching the fence that separates the outskirts of the QZ from the rest of the city when they are discovered by a couple of FEDRA soldiers, and force them four to kneel on the floor with their hands upon their necks.

“Listen to me. We can split—“

“Shut up! We’re doin’ this by the book.”

A lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating the area, followed by a thunderclap so loud that it briefly drowns out the tension in the air.

While one of the soldiers points at them with a rifle, the other takes out a portable scan to see if they are infected or not. First goes Tess, then Hanna. Both results negative. When it is his turn he wrinkles his nose at the feeling of the needle by his neck. Also negative. His gaze goes to Ellie, who is nervously mumbling something he cannot hear properly and he only sees her palming the pockets of her trousers before a yell from the soldier reaches his ears, quickly prompting him to attack and knock him dead before he can alert the rest.

“Oh, boy.”

It is Hanna who speaks, and he turns to see the other soldier dead, and the scan between Hanna’s hands, her face dimly enlightened in red.

That only means something: the kid is infected.

[dreadfutures]

2024 DA Fanfic Server OC SWAP Fics!

Every year in April, the DAFF server does a semi-secret round-robin gift exchange where the goal is to write a gift fic using your assigned person's OC. The gifts are always phenomenal, heartfelt, and give a glimpse of how your character is loved through someone else's eyes. Click the link above to read the 18 gift fics!

This year, I wrote for two different lovely writers, and both fics were OC & OC crossovers. I was so inspired by their characters I couldn't resist.

I wrote two of our Mahariels meeting as they quest for a cure for the Blight. And I gave a Trevelyan and my Lavellan the dragon fight we've all been rooting for!

The Dragon Age Fanfic Writers Discord Server anniversary (Aug 2021) generated a bunch of crossover-type gift fis and introduced the idea of a multiverse connected by eluvians. Thus, the Mirrorverse was born. This is an OPEN collection for ANYONE'S FICS that feature Dragon Age OCs who meet via the eluvians-to-the-multiverse plot gimmick. (I hope to see your own soon ;) )

Death is an Open Door

for Ghila Mahariel ( @ammoniteflesh )

Rating: T Words: 8100 (Crossover Mahariel & Mahariel).

Old Wardens told tales of long-gone companions and how they knew it was time to go. When hair thinned and nails grew sharp; when bone spurs sprouted or muscles began to hunch; when the eyes grew milky and the veins grew dark, and the light of the sun burned like the Maker’s wrath… that was when a Warden was a Warden no longer.

Mahariel had never known old Wardens.

Mahariel traveled at night.

Faust's Ghila Mahariel and my Halevune Mahariel are both worn out ten years after the Blight: shem politicians have not made good on the promises made to Ferelden's elves, and both Mahariels struggle with a lot of guilt, regret, and frustration. They both set out in search of something: a cure for the Blight, or at least its source. But their eluvian journey leads them from their own worlds, where each is the singular Hero of Ferelden, to somewhere in-between. Together.

It felt like the perfect mirror/foil set up for the two Mahariels and gave me the chance to write some horror and some ancient elven legends to boot!

and a second fic:

Unbreakable, Unbowed, Unyielding

for Theresa Tervelyan ( @warpedlegacy )

Rating: T Words: 2600 (Crossover Female Trevelyan & Female Lavellan, Female Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford)

Tess, if it's this important we can march the blasted halla in with some troops to guard it. — Cullen

“For once,” said Inquisitor Theresa Trevelyan, a wry smile aimed at her advisers, “that might actually be a good idea, Commander.”

I love Theresa with all my heart, and her writer Duchess. I was able to write a little Cullen-centric mysterious mini adventure for her for the winter holiday exchange, but we've always talked about "Ixchel and Theresa should slay a dragon together!"

Now they have!

Featuring battle couples, mid-combat banter, a dash of humor, and a bit of a cliff hanger, I hope it inspires more Mirrorverse crossovers.

[clems-bah]

HIIII WALKING DEAD SOURCE !!! could we have a level 2 or 3 subsys of vincent, wyatt, and shel from 400 days ?

level 2 vincent

credits — 1 : official , 2 : official

✦  — names : vince, v, len, maddox, sean, jett, rudy, blaze

✦  — age : 32

✦  — gender : transgender guy, regretlexic, nonfaultlineic

✦  — orientation : bisexual

✦  — pronouns : he / heat / grit / shot / ash

✦  — roles : prioritizer, pin cushion

✦  — front triggers : when someone freezes and a choice has to be made, guilt, loud emotional arguments, "i didn't mean to" when damage was already done

level 2 wyatt

credits — 1 : official , 2 : official

✦  — names : wyatt, elliot, chance, milo, reese

✦  — age : 28

✦  — gender : genderfluilimina, egotragien, lunauriam, psychesirenic

✦  — orientation : biromantic pansexual, demiromantic

✦  — pronouns : he / she / they / fog / joke / blur / buzz

✦  — roles : info manager, caretaker, emotion holder

✦  — front triggers : panic, remembering intense memories, intrusive thoughts, being handed responsibility, car rides, smoke smells, being in messy rooms

level 2 shel

credits — 1 : official , 2 : official

✦  — names : shel, shelby, tess, darla, ivy, carley, diane, claire, nancy

✦  — age : 24

✦  — gender : woman, bigsisterian, lideairratmomic

✦  — orientation : lesbian

✦  — pronouns : she / guard / hush / shi / horn / bruise

✦  — roles : emotional regulator, decision helper, rationalize

✦  — front triggers : watching someone be irresponsible and not care, hearing arguments that loop, others being in danger from their own hope, being asked to do "the right thing"

[jor-elsemissary]

Some backstory information about the story "Of the Fourth Kind"

How did Martha and Lionel get to the place they are in their relationship in that story, Did it follow the same path as canon or did it deviate slightly?

How does their sons feel about their relationship, despite the two off them bot being on good terms?

And actually any other sort off information would be greatly appreciated, because this story is really intresting🙌

How did Martha and Lionel get to the place they are in their relationship in that story, Did it follow the same path as canon or did it deviate slightly?

It deviated slightly but mostly followed canon.

Many of the events that would happen in seasons 8-10 still happened. But the deviation is that night in the office. Instead of refusing Lex, Lionel tries to explain the purpose of Veritas and warns that he wont be given access to the lockbox even if he has the keys because he’s not a member.

Lex forces Lionel to come with him to Zurich instead and when Lex finds only the clock part, he tries to murder his father there. The guard, however, interferes and Lex escapes with the part.

Lionel comes back to Smallville to warn Clark of what Lex had done and sets him on the path to find the Orb before Lex does.

He takes over LuthorCorp and the family fortune when Lex disappears.

As for his relationship with Martha. He continues it mostly over phone since he’s in Metropolis and she is in Washington. Its only when Tess shows up that he starts visiting her on a regular basis, leaving the company to his daughter to run. Mirror!Lionel and Darkseid happen while he spends a retreat in Washington with Martha.

Tess isn’t killed by Lex, but Lex does lose his memory still. She is raising Conner instead.

Lionel and Martha start dating during these events and continue to do so for a few months before the events of “Of the Fourth Kind” start.

How does their sons feel about their relationship, despite the two off them bot being on good terms?

Lex isn’t happy about it because his father is happy. He may not remember the last ten years, but he knows that he hates his father very much and for things that were done he can’t remember. His journals are the only source of what had happened in his life. He’s essentially envious and angry that his father is getting the happy ending while he continues to struggle and suffer.

Lionel has tried to help him but Lex does not want to listen to him anymore.

Lex does respect Martha though.

As for Clark, he hates it but has come to accept that it is what his mother wants. He keeps an eye on Lionel whenever they are in town, but mostly leaves them be. He isn’t so self-centered these days to be blind to the fact that Lionel actually cares about his mother.

And actually any other sort off information would be greatly appreciated, because this story is really intresting🙌

I’m still working on Chapter 5. Been researching Boulder, Colorado and some stories related to alien abductions. Much to my surprise, Boulder is a hub of UFO sightings but that could be attributed to the Air Force Base nearby. I had chosen Boulder simply because its a city I know in Colorado that isn’t Colorado Springs or Denver. XD So it works out in the end :).

The aliens themselves are a combination of Signs aliens, the sterotypical Greys, and Silurians (not Doctor Who kind). The story this is based on is the Travis Walton abduction, mostly believed to be a hoax. They made a movie about it called Fire in the Sky. I remember watching this as a kid and how it stuck and got me interested in aliens. I only remember bits a pieces of it, but its more than enough to write a story around.

[thiefguard]

your bruising headcanons were excellent

may i humbly request smutty headcanons too 🥺

Hi anon, thank you so much! I had a lot of fun writing them :3

Ofc you can request smutty hcs!!!

AU where Lamp was born from a mining-based economy :)

Queen

The Kingdom was built on its mines, literally and figuratively. Everyone knows of the wonders that lie beneath. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires beyond compare. As a child, (the small and future) Queen learns the smooth, cool touch of her mother’s opals long before she learns of the labour that bore them. Her teenage years are a string of suitors, each offering ever more splendid prizes. Aquamarines, from the riverland depositories. Jade from the sea-shelf, tourmaline from the mountains.

All would win her favour with jewels. None would tell her the truth of their harvest.

But the Queen has eyes, and in time she has power. Sense to see the back-breaking labour, sanity to put an end to it. She tours the shafts. Trails her fingertips along the walls until they come away black with smut. She meets the workers, listens to their stories, hears their coughs as dust rattles through their lungs.

The mines are shuttered. Past centuries bought forth enough jewels to last lifetimes. Let her people emerge from the dark and breathe in the light. Let their gemstones fill museums, not vaults. Let them trade, and smith, and work the stones for pleasure, not survival.

She styles herself to set a precedent. The court’s halls are hung with portraits of Ancestors who could hardly stand beneath the weight of their ceremonial jewels. For herself, she selects a single, simple piece. A pendant with a malachite stone, that reminds her of her mother’s eyes.

“Beautiful,” a husky voice murmurs one morn. Bold fingers brush the pendant, and the Queen gazes up into unfamiliar eyes. ‘Beautiful’, the word echoes in her mind, then ‘yes, oh yes you are.’

Priestess

Tess can barely remember a time before the Sound. Logically - when her mind is settled enough for reason - she knows it wasn’t always there. She wasn’t born with the ringing in her ears. Didn’t grow with the reverberation of it pulsing through her her veins. Didn’t stumble into adulthood with the deafening urgency pulling her towards it, every moment of every day.

So. There must have been a beginning, but that moment is as lost to the surface as she is.

It was a relief, the first time she realised that the sound grew louder in proximity to the mine shafts. Because if it has a source, then there must be a Reason, and if she can understand the reason, then perhaps the ceaseless, endless, terrible noise might finally abate.

She packs little for her journey. Perhaps part of her senses that supplies will be of little use below the surface. Perhaps part of her knows that she won’t be coming back.

She hesitates, just for a moment, on the precipice. One foot inside, palm coated with soot as she presses it to the stone wall and feels the sound echoing from below.

All she truly knows is that every step, every turn, every descent, takes her closer to the source of the Sound, and she cannot, will not, must not rest until she finds it.

Guard

He refuses to be bested by a common jewel thief.

The mines are perilous, have been shuttered for centuries, but the allure of the gems within remains.

Guard has worked many roles within the Citadel. He began as a boy, guarding stalls in the central market. From there, he graduated to the docks, proved himself protecting the fisherfolk and their catch. His time at the Temple was a promotion in name, but he found that he missed the sea breeze, the creak of wood, the lap of waves. Patrolling the corridors, he learned not to ask questions, not to look anyone directly in the eye. And then… the Incident, and now – the mines.

The role is a punishment, he knows that. A lesson in guarding his tongue more than guarding the deep, cavernous passages. Only madmen would attempt to break and enter here. Madmen – and a jewel thief.

For weeks he catches only the faintest glimpses. A shadow on the wall. The twitch of a cloak. A flash of blonde at the end of a corridor, gone in a blink. He might even doubt himself, if she didn’t want him to know she was there.

At first it’s just snatches of laughter, ringing out from the end of a corridor.

As he comes to learn her favoured routes, he finds symbols crudely hewn into the stone. Trailmarkers, obviously intended to throw him off the scent. This arrow leads to a channel so narrow as to be impassable, that one to a gap only a child could squeeze through.

She’s taunting him, teasing him, and the longer it lasts, the more determined he becomes to catch her.

He sets traps, lies in wait. Follows the routes she’s prone to taking, maps the antechambers he thinks she’s searching for. Here, where the last trove of diamonds was mined. Or there, where emeralds were as plentiful as pebbles.

Once, he follows her so deep for so long that he turns around on himself. Looks up to find the paths unfamiliar, no sign of his markers to guide him. An hour passes, then another. He tries first this fork in the path, then a tunnel that leads towards a distant hum. The longer he walks, the darker it becomes. He feels the first lick of fear long before his lamp dies. He sits, then. Feels the cold of the walls seep into his skin as he tries in vain to recall his steps.

Just as panic is beginning to set in truly, a flicker of light.

A full passage away, but closer than he’s ever seen her. Blonde, yes, and smaller than he’d thought, but the dim candlelight casts a shadow that rises to the ceiling – that almost touches him as she crooks a beckoning finger.

Her cheeks are grimed with soot and her grin is all at his expense, but for a moment’s blessed relief, Guard allows himself to be bested by the jewel thief and guided back to daylight.

Teller

Teller grew up on stories of the mines, but has never set foot in one until Jul disappears.

Oh, it’s not so dramatic as all that. No sudden Vanishing, here one moment and gone the next. When she’s deep on an exploration, he can go weeks without seeing her – months, if he should travel while she’s underground.

But as summer ebbs into autumn without a glimpse, the browning of the leaves brings a sense of… unease.

It’s silly, he knows, to think that he could stroll straight out of the Temple, shimmy down the nearest shaft and find her in an afternoon. But still. He can try.

He doesn’t go unprepared. Magister would give him men, he knows, and all the supplies he could need. But first he would need to Ask, and then he would need to Explain, and neither of those are conducive to actually Doing. And so, just this once, he takes a leaf out of Jul’s book and Takes.

The map book Magister keeps in his quarters is beautifully illustrated. Teller has watched him pore over it for hours, always cleansing his hands reverently before turning its pages. The whole Citadel is here – its streets and tunnels, above ground and below. The mines will have changed shape over the centuries, he knows, altered by cave-ins and erosions and neglect. But he has a start.

The map helps for far longer than he might have expected. It charts a true course, leads him through narrow, winding tunnels that must surely pass well beyond the boundaries of the Citadel.

His guilt grows as his coal-black fingers incriminate themselves upon the pristine pages. And so he looks, learns, and stows it away. He's sure that he remains on course, certain that his recollection is true, even as he enters an unmarked ante-chamber. A vaulted ceiling that has no right to be here. A shaft of light, impossible at these depths. And a distant sound that might be running water, but sounds like no stream Teller has ever crossed.

Most curiously, most temptingly, most bafflingly of all… at the center of the room, a pedestal. Hewn from marble of a shining cream, topped by a plush red pillow of the softest silk. And there, in the center... incongruous, illogical, but oh so very real... a pristine brass oil lamp, just begging to be touched.

[just-a-creep-babe]

https://www.tumblr.com/just-a-creep-babe/725668195446456320/httpswwwtumblrcomjust-a-creep-babe7251148763?source=share

AHH I am so glad you liked this concept!!! It is coming together perfectly so I thought I would share a "passage" with you! 🫶 

Sam is seen sitting in the hospital bed as Randy approaches her room. Sam sighs before turning toward Tess. "Loss the camera, Coppola."

Tess laughs. "Hey, you're the one who didn't want the camera to stop rolling, for your journalism project!"

Sam only rolls her eyes. The door then suddenly opens, with a voice saying, "cute sweatshirt, Sammy." Randy then motions toward her hockey sweatshirt that Dean let her borrow.

Sam then looks up, letting out sigh of annoyance. "Just what in the hell are you doing here?"

Randy motions toward Dean. "To tell you to get your guard dog in check."

"What are you even-"

"Your little boyfriend, Dean? He was wearing that fucking mask, sitting outside my house, stalking me. He broke into the house where Riley was babysitting!"

"No? Dean's been here."

"I saw him with the mask!"

We then cut to Sam now standing and her and Randy fighting. Dean is standing in the middle, not saying one word.

"Dean's been with me all night!"

"Stop covering for him!"

"You have some nerve to put me in the hospital then come and yell at me!"

"That was an accident! I got a nosebleed-"

"You got a nose bleed? Oh, don't give me that shit! You are total chaos and always have and will be! This is why we stopped being friends! You are total chaos! I NEVER want to see you again!"

"Right back at you! Have a nice goddamn life!"

Just then, there is a gurgling sound and Sam and Randy both look up to see Dean...with blood coming out of his mouth and blood seeping from his chest through his shirt. The duo screams as the curtain is thrown back, revealing the same masked person who had been stalking Randy and Elijah. Sam screeches as she leaps over the bed and she and Randy make a b-line toward the exit. The masked person is faster as just before Sam runs for it, they grab Sam by her hoodie. Before she can get stabbed, Sam bites down, hard, onto the person's arm, causing them to drop the knife with a clank. The duo then finally makes a run for it.

Oooooooooh things are kicking uppppp 👀👀👀👀

[theblogs2024]

Trademark Research And Trademark Enjoy: Why They Matter for the Brand name

Logos would be the cornerstone of brand name identification, serving to organizations set up a novel presence from the marketplace. Nevertheless, making sure your trademark stays unique and guarded needs proactive actions. Trademark search and trademark view are two essential elements of this method. This text dives into their importance, the procedures associated, And just how they safeguard your brand name’s reputation and benefit.

What on earth is a Trademark Lookup?

A trademark search consists of analyzing current logos to guarantee your desired mark is unique and eligible for registration. It can help determine opportunity conflicts that can arise from similarity to other logos, decreasing the chance of rejection throughout the registration system.

Forms of Trademark Searches

Preliminary Research: A basic research to identify evident conflicts.

Complete Research: An in-depth look for covering registered emblems, pending apps, and customary law emblems (unregistered but in use).

Intercontinental Search: Needed for enterprises planning to function in many nations around the world, this search covers worldwide trademark databases.

Why Is a Trademark Lookup Essential?

Stay clear of Authorized Conflicts: Pinpointing related logos stops highly-priced disputes.

Preserve Time and expense: Making certain your trademark’s uniqueness avoids squandered work on turned down applications.

Improve Brand Identification: A particular trademark sets your brand apart and fosters purchaser believe in.

What on earth is a Trademark View?

Trademark enjoy is an ongoing approach that displays new trademark purposes and makes use of to detect probable infringements or conflicts together with your registered mark. It’s essential for retaining your manufacturer’s exclusivity and lawful rights.

How Does a Trademark Observe Get the job done?

Databases Checking: Consistently examining trademark applications and registries for equivalent marks.

Market place Surveillance: Observing Market functions to detect unauthorized use within your trademark.

Alerts and Reports: Receiving notifications about possible conflicts or infringements.

Benefits of Trademark Look at

Proactive Defense: Detect conflicts early to handle them ahead of they escalate.

Authorized Enforcement: Delivers proof of infringement to assist authorized action if required.

Brand name Integrity: Maintains the exclusivity and value of your trademark.

Actions to Conduct a Trademark Look for

Decide on a Responsible Databases: Use official databases such as the USPTO’s Trademark Electronic Look for Process (TESS) or WIPO’s World-wide Model Database.

Search for Variants: Look for related spellings, phonetics, or translations of your desired mark.

Seek the advice of Professionals: Trademark Lawyers or lookup corporations can offer a more thorough Assessment.

Utilizing a Trademark Look at

Subscribe to Checking Expert services: Use Skilled solutions to observe trademark filings and current market action.

Established Alerts: Automate notifications For brand new filings or utilizes comparable to your mark.

Overview Frequently: Periodically evaluate the reviews and acquire prompt action if desired.

Frequent Challenges in Trademark Lookup and Watch

Overlooking Widespread Law Marks: Not all emblems are registered, Nonetheless they may still have authorized protections.

Global Versions: Dissimilarities in trademark legal guidelines throughout nations around the world complicate Worldwide monitoring.

Source Depth: Complete research and check out attempts might be time-consuming and expensive.

Conclusion Trademark lookup and trademark enjoy are indispensable for businesses seeking to safeguard their model’s id and lawful legal rights. Whilst the processes may possibly feel complicated, the expenditure is worthwhile to stop disputes, fortify your brand’s exclusivity, and preserve its value. By using proactive measures in trademark management, you may deal with growing your online business with assurance, recognizing your brand is protected.

To know more details visit here: patent registration

[escapedartgeek]

@themckaytriarchy

[x]

Zora can't help but laugh at Tess' comments. "Ah, sometimes that might be helpful. I think I'll be able to handle myself for right now though." Even jokes have weird little ideas that might be worth exploring in case it's necessary. Z can only hope that it might not be necessary for the moment.

The stretch is enough to make them feel a little bit more embodied anyway. It's hard not to forget that constant kind of internal buzz that's running through them even if they are long used to it by now.

Hearing about the location, Zora nods in approval. They loved a good abandoned theme park as a source for parts.

"Ah, sounds like an excellent spot. Thanks for sharing that with me.. I'm sure there's all kinds of interesting finds there." It's enough to make them perk up in a little odd way. They do genuinely seemed delighted at the prospect of digging around for scraps.

"That's the risk you take with such places huh. Guess it's good to still have one's guard up when going down there for any reason."

[supernaturalgirl20]

I’ve got Joel living rent-free in my head, too.

Can I get something where Joel takes up for reader, and puts an idiot in his place for disrespecting his girl?

I’ve loved Joel from the game but the way Pedro plays him has me 🫠😍. Thank you for the request my love, gotta love a protective Joel. Hope you enjoy 😉

Someday

Pairings: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, cursing, mentions of prostitution, possessive Joel, feelings but no feelings.

A/N: requests still open for Joel Miller 🥰

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

You can’t remember how it started exactly. Or when for that matter. All you do know is that it was a mutual agreement to keep it business-like. 

An outlet for you both to get some relief when the strain of this new life took its toll. Or when either one of you had an itch to scratch. Joel didn’t do feelings, and that was ok because neither did you or at least you didn’t. Now though, those lines are beginning to blur and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hide it from him. 

You knew if he ever found out, he’d run. He’d shut himself off from you and your heart would break. So, you don’t kiss when you fuck, don’t hold each other after and you don’t stay the night. 

At least you didn’t. Now though, everything has changed. 

***

You can feel his gaze on you from where he stands, leaning against the brick wall near the alleyway. He’d insisted that you weren’t going alone, especially not after what happened with Tess. 

No amount of protesting on your part could change his mind. Joel Miller was a stubborn man and while most of the time you admired him for it, right now, you wanted to punch him. 

Mack, one of Roberts's lackeys, was sitting across from you with a sick sinister smirk on his face as his gaze drifted from you to Joel. “Couldn’t haven’t left your guard dog at home?” His head tilts in Joel’s direction and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to remain calm. 

Trying hard not to punch this idiot in the fucking face. “Listen, are you interested or not? There are other smugglers in this area that I could go to.”

He sneers, leaning back in his chair with his arm slung across the thigh. “Oh, I’m interested all right, but not in your ration cards. Was thinking maybe you’d give me a go of that pussy? I mean if it’s good enough for Joel fucking Miller, it’s good enough for me.” 

Your stomach churns at the thought of this man with his hands all over you, you’d rather get killed by a clicker but then you let your gaze flicker to the man you’ve come to love. His face hardened into an almost permanent scowl and how you’d give anything for him to have a small bit of happiness.

“Say I agree,” you say, voice low, hoping that Joel can’t make out what you're talking about. “I want the battery first. In perfect working condition or the deal is off.” 

Mack sits up, his face a mixture of shock and delight at the prospect of getting his hands on you. “Damn, I gotta say I didn’t think you’d go for it. Then again, you ain’t nothin’ but a cheap whore…”

“The fuck you just say?” 

You can see the fear creeping quickly into Mack’s face as he stares behind you to the source of the deep husky voice. Your gaze drifts upwards to find Joel standing directly behind you, his face stern and filled with rage. 

“Now I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Joel, I was just playing is all.” Mack gulps nervously as he quickly stands, his chair falling onto the ground as he holds his hands up in surrender.

Joel steps forward but before he can get anywhere near Mack, you grab a hold of his arm pulling him back. His eyes drift to yours, his eyebrows furrowed in question before they drop to where your hand is touching him. 

“Leave it, please,” you plead, and his gaze meets yours once again. 

“Yeah, you heard her, leave it. Besides, she offered first.” Mack is slowly backing up but a growl rises from deep within Joel’s chest and he falters.

“What the fuck is he talk in’ about?” His eyes are boring into you, and you silently curse Mack and his big fucking mouth. “It’s nothing ok, just leave it. Let’s go.”

“No.” His voice is harsh and angry as he pulls out of your grasp turning his attention back to Mack. “What do you mean she offered first?” 

“Told her I’d get her the car battery if she let me fuck her. She was gonna do it too. I mean I gotta hand it to ya, having two women on the go, you must be doin’ somethin’ right. The least you could do is pimp them out, make a living.” 

Mack continues on his tangent, and you can see Joel getting angrier and angrier, his fists clenching at his sides but it isn’t until Mack calls you a dirty whore that he loses it. 

Joel lunges at him, his fist connecting with Mack’s jaw knocking him on his ass. The squeal of pain that he emits as blood gushes from his nose draws the attention of some people and you pray you can stop Joel before a FEDRA agent arrives. 

He continues to punch him over and over until Mack apologises to you. “Joel, please. Please we gotta go, he isn’t worth it.”

You plead over and over but it doesn’t get through, not until you place your hand on his shoulder and then his eyes turn to you. “Let’s go home.”

He looks back down at Mack and whispers something in his ear before he stands letting the man go. Turning to you he huffs out a breath in frustration, his face stern and nostrils flaring. Then he turns, grabs your wrist in his hand and pulls you along behind him back to his apartment. 

The door closes with a bang, and he marches over to the kitchen, grabs a glass and his god-awful whiskey and pours himself a drink before downing it. The glass bangs on the table as he finishes.

You just stand there staring, hands wringing nervously as you take in the tension of his shoulders. “Joel.”

“Don’t!” He barks, his gaze turning towards you. “What the fuck were you thinkin’? Were you really gonna whore yourself out for the battery?” His voice is laced with anger as he steps towards you. 

“I-I was just…. look it’s only sex. It wouldn’t have meant anything. Besides, it would have gotten you the battery and you could finally get out of here and find Tommy.” You turn away ashamed you had even considered it.

“And you thought I’d be ok with that, did ya? Thought I’d want to share what’s mine?” His voice breaks at the end, the hint of softness creeping in. 

You turn to face him and startle at how close he’s gotten. Your eyes meet and for a brief moment, the world stops. You can’t hear your own breathing your heart is thundering against your chest so damn hard. 

There’s a tension in the air and you feel something shift between you. His eyes drift briefly down to your lips before your gaze meets again. He steps closer. Invading your space and filling all your senses with him. 

He smells like the bar of soap that you spent weeks trying to save for, that hint of citrus invading your senses and reminding you of the time before the world went to shit. He smells of sweat and dirt and that nasty whiskey he drinks every night. 

He smells like home. Or as close as you’ll ever get to one now. His arm slides along the curve of your hip coming to rest on the small of your back, palm outstretched as he pulls you into him. 

Your hand rests on his chest and you can feel his heart beating fast beneath it. You want to ask what he’s thinking. Or why he reacted the way he did but you don’t get the chance when his lips crash suddenly into your own. 

It’s hot and frantic and his hand is gripping your hip tightly while the other grips you around the neck pulling you impossibly close as his mouth devours you. 

You almost buckle when his tongue licks along the seam of your bottom lip, begging for entry and he groans lewdly when you open up to him. 

He lifts you off your feet ever so slightly as he moves around the apartment towards his bed, pushing you back onto it as he stands staring down at you. 

“Take it off,” he commands, his voice raspy and it sends a spark of arousal straight to your core. You quickly remove your underwear and trousers and slide back along the bed. 

“All of it.” 

You raise your eyebrows in question. He wants you naked! You’ve never been fully nude before, not with Joel. He always wants to be prepared to run. He can sense your hesitation. “I won’t ask again, darlin’.”

Lifting your top over your head you fling it onto the ground and your heart flutters nervously as you sit completely bare to him. His eyes rake over your naked curves and he groans, the outline of his cock prominent beneath his jeans.

His hands work off his belt and trousers and you assume he’ll leave it at that but then he grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head tossing it with yours on the floor. 

“Hands and knees, darlin’.” He breathes as he takes his cock in his hand and pumps himself. You don’t waste any time, obeying him immediately. The rough pad of his fingers runs along the smooth skin of your back, and you shudder under his ministrations. 

“I’ll show you, darlin’ whose pussy this is.” His voice is low, and you wonder silently if he meant for you to hear. 

The head of his cock runs along your slick gathering your arousal and your breath hitches when he notches at your entrance and sinks in. 

“God damn. So tight…so wet…always so wet, darlin’. All this for me?” 

You moan into the tattered sheets beneath you as he fucks into you, his pace is brutal as he grips your hips tight.

“Yes.” You cry as you come for the first time, clenching tight around him. 

“Damn straight this is my pussy. MINE! Ya hear. Fuck.” Suddenly he’s pulling out and flipped you into your back as he nestled between your thighs and sank back into your heat. 

His hand grabs your thigh and lifts your leg over his ass as he rolls his hips into you. He’s a little softer this time. His lips caress the skin of your neck and breasts before pulling the bud of your nipple into his mouth. 

His tongue licks in circles around its peak and you arch in response, your body tingling as you come hard again. “Joel.” You whimper and it somehow spurs him on as he begins to pound into you. The makeshift bed squeaked slightly with each thrust. 

“Mine,” he whispers into the shell of your ear. “My lady. My darlin’. And I ain’t…. sharin’. You got that, ever.” His voice becomes raspy and his breathing ragged as he thrusts twice more before quickly pulling out and spilling onto your stomach. 

He leans down and kisses you softly. Once. Twice. Before he pulls away and cleans you up, ordering you to dress again. 

Your heart breaks a little and your stomach feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. He’s kicking you out, again. Why did you think that tonight was any different? That you might actually mean something to him? 

You dress quickly and go to grab your stuff when his hand on your wrist stops you. “Where you goin’?” 

“Back to mine, like always.” He shakes his head and takes the bag from you, placing it on the ground. “I think it’s about time you start livin’ here. Need to start letting those fuckers know you're my lady.” 

“What about Tess?” You ask, voice betraying your jealousy. You think you see the hint of a smirk on his face, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears. 

“She’s a big girl. Besides, she ain’t my girl and she has her own spot. Now come on, darlin’. Let's get some rest.”

***

You brush your fingers gently along the scruff of his cheek and he stirs, a groan slipping from his lips as he seeks you out. The arm that was resting on his chest now slung across your hips, pulling you back into him. 

Joel Miller has a hold on you. One that you cannot explain. One you're not sure even he knows he has on you, and it scares you a little, but if this is all you’ll ever have with him, then you’ll take it.

You’ll take him for all that he is. A shell of the man he once was with no penchant for feelings or emotions other than anger. A man who has suffered too many losses that he has cut himself off from ever being happy.

A man who kills first, asks questions later and protects those he holds dear, fiercely. This is why you want to help him get to his brother Tommy no matter what so that he can have a chance at being happy again. And if nothing else, simply because you love him. 

And maybe he’ll bring you with him?

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @browneyes-issac @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @hungrhay @rosie-posie08 @manuymesut @all-the-way-down-here @iccedays @tusk89 @graciexmarvel @pedrostories @pedr0swh0r3 @musings-of-a-rose @untitledarea @your-voice-is-mellifluous @majestyjade

[simquoya]

beginning ● previous | next

transcript ↴

tess: i’m getting the SBI involved. i’ve already started talking to them and they’ll offer me immunity if i work with them as an informant. do you still have that dossier?

tanisha: what about the rest of us? i’ve been hacking shit left and right.

tess: that’s why i need the dossier. the dossier will get you all immunity too.

trenton: okay, bet.

tess: gianni said attacking the source will ruin this entire situation. and he’s right. since my promotion i’ve been sitting in on more meetings. the mother controls this entire thing. you end that. and this thing is over.

sami: the mother. my dad mentioned the mother.

tess: attacking the mother will alert them. it’ll signal an emergency meeting that all military personnel will have to go to immediately. that’s when we can go in and get your dad out.

trenton: wait, how? what about guards? and isn’t he in a bed?

tess: we can get past the guards. we won’t have much time. and yes he is, but we’ve got to do what we’ve got to do if you want him out.

sami: let’s do this.

[thecagedsong]

Forgotten Light Chapter 15: Translation

A/N: Another short one, but I’m at a bit of a crux here. Tess and Knox have their own adventures at Fablehaven, and technically their stories come next chronologically, but it might be fun to leave their stories a secret for y’all to try and guess at until the end and then have their stories be bonus chapters. I think I’ll do that unless you guys tell me that Kendra and Seth’s stories fall apart without their cousins. Have fun guessing!

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

Chapter 15: Translation

Kendra made herself try to sleep, and woke up the next morning with the same question. Bracken or Ronodin. Who to believe? What did she owe the Kendra she had been? That girl hadn’t even kept a journal apparently, otherwise Ronodin would have offered it to her to help with her memory loss. Unless Ronodin was lying about everything, and purposefully keeping her from her past self.

What she needed was information. And a place to store it all. One that Ronodin couldn’t touch.

Locks. She had the power to create magical items, why not magical locks? Kendra hurried to the library and scoured her reference books. There was one chapter on creating seals, that would have to do. She read it and re-read it, then gathered together the thick paper Ronodin had gotten her for painting, and tore the plain back covers off two of the books she couldn’t read.

 “Sorry,” she apologized to the books. She used needle and thread from her sewing materials to bind everything together. As she cut and sewed, she followed the instructions from her books and focused on what she wanted protected and contained. No eyes to read it, only hers, and repel everyone else. Magic in her hands. Mendigo, Bracken, Ronodin, and Seth and the dragon people, everyone. This was for her eyes alone. They could not touch it and would be repelled back.

On the cover of her make-shift journal she painted the seal she wanted, as suggested by the book, in paint made with Sphinx blood. Sphinxes were protectors, and attacked any who couldn’t pass their riddles, hopefully the blood of those determined guardians would lend its strength to protecting her secrets.

And the final part of a seal: the sacrifice. Of all the suggested sacrifices, the only one she felt comfortable giving was a little bit of her own blood. Picking up a fresh needle from the pack, she stabbed her forearm over a vein, and squeezed out a couple of drops. The book seemed to glow for a second, then was back to being an unskilled crafts project.

“Mendigo, come here,” Kendra called. Mendigo entered and she placed the journal on the couch and stepped away. “Open that book, please.”

Mendigo strode forward and reached for the book, but his fingers hovers an inch from surface, just like she wanted. His wooden body leaned forward, and a second hand joined the first.

 “Perfect, you can stop now,” Kendra said, smiling, “Go back to guarding the door, please.”

Mendigo left. Kendra opened the book and immediately started writing the things she knew. Then came the list of things she doubted because they came from only one source or were contradicted by someone else. Then she listed out her goals.

1.      See the sunlight/outside/anywhere but here

2.      Learn more information herself/her family/her host/Ronodin/Bracken

It felt like she should have at least three goals, but those were pretty much the most important, and it took her a while to decide on the third one.

3.      Develop magical arts and crafts

Unlike the curse medallions, which she felt unsure about, she liked her new journal. It didn’t hurt anyone, but was still useful and something she made. It was something that was all hers. Kendra would learn everything she could, and make what she could, without picking a side for now.

She tried to list out plans for achieving the goals, but besides do more crafting, she was stuck.

What she really needed was more information, that one should have been first in terms of necessity instead of wants. And if her goal was to learn more, then the best place for that was the library.

Except she had skimmed through all nine books she could actually read in the library, and torn through all the reference books for her crafting that Ronodin had brought her, and read thoroughly two of the books already. She now knew a lot more about the Fair Folk and Shadow Charmers, but the rest of the books weren’t much help. Two were potions books, four were dictionaries used for translating languages of the books on the other shelves, and the final book she hadn’t read deeply was a magical creature encyclopedia, but only the P’s.

She could either educate herself on all magical creatures starting with P (even though she had already skimmed through for the interesting entries) dedicate herself to translating the foreign languages using the dictionary, or focus on finding information elsewhere. It’s not like she had google translate down here.

Kendra paused. No…she might not have google translate, but maybe she could make something that worked like a translator?

Kendera went through her craft references again, scouring for anything that give her clues for translation magic. There was a footnote that said it was common curtesy to leave multiple translations of the conditions of a curse at curse sites in order to make them stick better. Too many unknowns about a curse actually made it weaker, since you can’t have an unbreakable spell. Then she got caught up in the theory sections.

What made the symbols in the book powerful was the faith and belief that people had that those symbols did have power. Cultures long dead, cultures currently, practitioners of the magic arts didn’t like to acknowledge that their spell designs worked primarily because everyone involved believed that it worked, allowing it to be a conduit for magic, but that was a reality of their trade.

Which meant that it didn’t matter if Kendra didn’t have a symbol in Ronodin’s glossary. If she believed in the symbol herself, it would function similarly, if not better.

At least, that’s what she thought that it said. She didn’t know how well it would work, because with her past an absolute mystery, Kendra had no idea what to believe in, or if she had believed in anything, ever. But it was a start.

She knew things, she just didn’t know how she knew about them. Grabbing a clean piece of paper, she started listing things that she associated with translating, not letting herself question the associations. Eyes. Glasses. Crystals. Crystals were also connected to knowing for some reason. Dictionaries. Google. Owls.

Kendra stopped. What if she carved a monocle, kind of like how she would carve an amulet? No crystals around…though maybe there was something in the jewelry box she hadn’t touched? How do monocles stay on people’s faces anyway? No better something like a magnifying glass without the glass. Just a magic space that would change the words from the languages surrounding her into English. Papering the handle with pages from those dictionaries would help. From the first and last pages, so the eyeglass would know everything in between. That should work…

Kendra started sketching her designs and plans in her journal. She eventually fell asleep when her eyes started to blur, then woke up again. She showered, ate, then got back at her research, finally starting to carve. She hid her journal away, sideways behind some of the larger, more incomprehensible tomes. It felt good to have secrets, things only she knows, things only she can do. Ronodin certainly had plenty of secrets himself, and when he eventually came back, he would either let her keep her secrets, or she would believe Bracken by default.

It felt good to have plans.

[pooktales]

Greymane’s Garters

I made up a fake history because ‘Greymane’s Garters’ is so fun to say and imagine. Enjoy!

The Order of the Grey Garter, more popularly known as "Greymane's Garters", has origins comingled in Human myth and legend. It is now considered somewhat ridiculous, as it instantly conjures a mental image of the noble King Greymane of Gilneas, him covered head to toe in white fur as he is in Worgen form, but for some reason wearing a pink-and-gray frilly woman's garter strapped to his leg.

Image: from ebay (only 1 left!)

This, I assure you, Greymane's Garters are not! They are hardly a male Worgen lingerie trend, but an order of noble knights and also so much more. Firstly, female Worgen find themselves members of this ancient order as well. Secondly, the garter is only a symbol--today it is often worn around the arm at ceremony or as a badge, a flat pink-and-gray belt coiled in a hoop and showing its buckle, that it was once considered part of suit of armor to help keep plate buckled over the legs. Only attend a Greymane's Garters initiation and see for yourself and you can be assured of this. The members proudly wear very little but their fur, to show they have at least embraced their Worgen side (this is a subject of contention even within this royal order, but they at least agree fur is alright). So the wearing of yes, admittedly, skimpy clothing to show off fur and the traditional garter around the leg is a thing. But if it is not buckled around the leg, then it goes proudly on the arm above the bicep, or on a cape--it may look strange indeed to the unschooled, but it is an honorable form of dress. Greymane’s Garters are not 'furries in SM gear' whatever the modern youth mean by that. A Greymane's Garter would maw you and strap you to a pole or a bedframe or some other handy torture device if they ever heard you calling their order a low-key furry headcanon, never that.

Military History

The order was first formed in the Second War. Under pressure to conform to the standards and military norms of the Alliance of Lordaeron, Gilnean leadership made a pledge that they would stay a distinct force as far as they could, focused solely on the political advantage of their own kingdom. As such, they felt a need to distinguish their military leaders on the battlefield with a brand that could not be overtaken by the blue and gold Alliance regalia. Their other goal was to remind their soldiers that their home kingdom, Gilneas, should always be the priority. Of course, this manifested itself in only a token support force sent to aid the Alliance at that time, all of them good-looking men in excellent polished plate, saying things like 'What ho!' and also 'Get gabbin' or get goin!' which were practiced phrases to deflect accountability. They made it subtly clear that they were only interested in doing those tasks for the Alliance that would further Gilnean interests. And they defiantly wore their pink, gray and white garters high up their thighs. The grey garter became an emblem of their stalwart resistance to Alliance assimilation. The effort was a great success from the Gilnean perspective. Not long after the first Greymane's Garters arrived in Lordaeron, the Alliance despaired at them, actually, and didn't prod the Gilnean King for any more his "help". And then the Greymane’s Garters went back home after the conflict and eventually the Gilnean wall went up too, which certain Alliance leaders were pretty relieved for, even if they couldn’t say it. The wall also had the effect of ‘keeping it over on their side’.

Mythical Origins

The more mythical origins of the Greymane’s Garters involve a magical Grey Lady who walked out of the Emerald Dream one evening in the forests of Gilneas, accompanied by gray feydragons. Everything she touched turned into a gray mist. A knight set out to slay her, believing she was a witch, but instead, she mesmerized him and inspired him to gather his fellow knights to return to her and perform a great task that would, she said 'Make little sense now, but will mean everything to saving your kin' in the far future. They Great Grey Knight then returned to the mists as the Grey Lady bade him, with three axemen, five lancers, and twenty-six cavalry men. And then, standing in a circle, she gave them all the garters of their order to wear, attaching them to their legs and buckling each to cinch proud and tight. And then she showed them a traditional dance. It was the gray dance of death that much empahsized squats and lunges with the legs, later used to train King Greymane's personal guard for ages, who one day kept him alive during the conflict with Sylvanas.

Competing accounts say the first Greymane’s Garters never learned a fighting technique, but they did serve her special gray ritual wine made from special silver grapes. And she made them grill her delicious capon and venison for supper. In exchange for that, what she taught the knights was how to create a 'Grey Garter', a special kind of powdered sugar dough dessert that is made in loops of pastry. This sparkling gray dough dessert was passed down in the Gilnean court and would still be cooked today if not for the disruption, again, of Sylvanas laying waste to Gilneas.

Modern Findings

Today, historians cannot find any real evidence connecting the myth of the Grey Lady to the military dance of Greymane's personal guard. (If it can even be considered a dance.) Nor can they say with confidence that a legend of that era really would be an elaborate way to convey a few cooking recipes involving gray food. Most recent research makes a more practical suggestion as to the actual events concerning the Grey Lady. That is, the knights soon discovered the Grey Lady was in fact a witch, or at least a very strange woman with the skill of a pressure salesman and a lot of mist handy where she happened to live in the forest. She clearly had a thing for knights wearing garters so halfway through their weird dinner-date, the men who weren't drunk and drugged off their feet got together and slayed her. They vowed, there and then, to come up with a better story for what happened and be 'reborn in blood'. From there on, the 'grey garter' story became a joke among the Gilnean nobility descended from these surviving knights, and when an opportunity eventually came up during the Second War to give the Alliance of Lordaeron the proverbial middle finger for making them provide aid against the Orcs, the Gilnean nobility reached back for the 'grey garters' story, layered some more meaning in it, and then made it a part official military dress. As an in-joke among the Gilnean crusty uppercrust. The rest, as they say, is history.

Motto

The motto "reborn from blood" has passed into common parlance of course, though many Gilneans may not even realize it. One often meets a Gilnean or a Worgen who, thinking of the turmoil their people have endured, make the remark that Gilneas will be reborn from the blood of their enemies. This derives from none other than the Greymane’s Garters.

Source: wish.com

The Ribbon

As you can see, the ribbon itself has changed over time. First, in the era of the Grey Lady myth, it was a very tribal-looking chevron in white, pink and gray colors. Later, it was a bold pink-and-gray plaid. Even later, due to lack of resources and the loss of the kingdom to Sylvanas' forces, it was mainly the sort of spider's silk, large swaths of pink ribbon were easier to come by in Darnassus where most Gilnean refugees settled.

The pink color of the Darnassian iteration (also referred to as the Gilnean diaspora, so show some respect) isn't "girly" as some consider it. First of all, pink is a color, it doesn't “belong” to anyone. Second of all, the whole thing was going to be abandoned when the order was re-formed after the fall of Gilneas recently, but many of the prouder Worgen members insisted it was also the color of roses, or raw meat or flesh, which connects back to that side of the Gilnean experience. Gray connects back with Greymane and white is the color of a new moon, of hope, of Greymane's own fur hide. So they keep all the colors, pink, gray and white, intermingled whether in the traditional plaid pattern or the primal, very bold chevron that can be easily seen strapped to a Gilnean's leg across the battlefield. Or, yes. In frilly Darnassian pink if that's what's available.

Notable Members of Greymane's Garters

King Archibald Greymane

King Genn Greymane (current sovereign)

Princess Tess Greymane

Queen Mia Greymane

Lord Darius Crowley

Lorna Crowley

Lord Vincent Godfrey (posthumously stripped of rank due to treason)

Speculation

It is rumored that King Anduin Wrynn has been offered a place in the Greymane’s Garters (with a special exception made for his devotion to Stormwind of course). However, Greymane is most likely still awaiting confirmation that Anduin will accept. Undoubtedly he will, of course! Anduin’s biggest reservation is said to be ‘Wait, aren’t those guys a furry group that wears underwear on the outside? This is for real?’ Though SI: 7 refuses to comment on whether the the young king actually said this. It may be that Genn is waiting for Anduin to mature some more before offering Greymane’s Garter again. Or, it may be that other rumors are true, that Anduin is prepared to make his own royal order of garter-wearing knights if he has to, to get out of wearing fancy underwear given to him by Greymane.

Because, of course, two garters on both of Anduin’s legs, ontop of his armor? One leg pink and the other blue? That would look completely ridiculous and anyone would obviously agree.

Unless you are a proud member of Greymane’s Garters that is!!

-fin-

[thelastofgala]

Giving this a prompt shot as well - your other stories are incredible and so painfully *real*. After they’ve arrived and settled a bit in Jackson, Ellie tells Joel about Riley and what was between them. Tentatively, she then asks what exactly was the nature of the relationship between him and Tess, and to her surprise, he actually opens up a bit (for Joel standards, anyway)

Taking a stab at this like two years later. Sorry for the epic wait! I had an idea for it last night while replaying the game during these odd and trying times. Thank you for the prompt ^_^

You can read this and more of my little fictions for The Last of Us at AO3.

Grand Junction Wine

After David, Joel was able to get it together enough to hot-wire an old Silverado that Ellie had found in a garage near the resort. It was five hundred miles to Salt Lake City and freezing cold, so they left the horses watered and fed and set them free on the range. There was no clear path on state highways anymore. If they had taken US-Route 40, they risked facing a road obstructed by debris, plus fewer cars from which to syphon fuel for the ride. They took the I-70 instead, veering south around three or four national forests, which had become rife, fantastical territories full of hostile communities and clickers in the thousands. It was a scary place to be alive.

Ellie drove most of the way. They stopped at a winery in Grand Junction, about a halfway point, some ways off the interstate. The cellar was stocked with dusty old bottles, and while Joel started a fire with kindling he’d gathered upstairs, Ellie wandered around the rows and picked out a couple reds through the cobwebs. She had no idea what she was doing. She’d never tried wine before, but she knew that Riley had, and she thought it seemed interesting and grown-up.

When she brought the bottles back up, she found Joel, leaning against the big, tall bar with his eyes closed. He was looking haggard and exhausted, wearing a wool coat he had stole off one of the dead back at the resort. Though he was healing and he hid his pain with expertise, Ellie knew that he was still physically wrecked. The fact he had let her drive was enough to worry her that he might somehow get bad again. She had stolen a bunch of those cipro injections off David and his cannibal army before they left, so at least there was that.

She went outside into the snow with her improving archery skills. She killed one rabbit, shot it right through the eyeball. Inside, she skinned it and cleaned it and stuck it on a makeshift spit and let it cook. Joel was quiet. It was just easier not to make a fuss, she figured.

“Hey,” she said after a while. She was sharpening her knife against a whetstone, watching the rabbit.

“Hmm,” said Joel, with his eyes closed.

“You, uh. You feeling okay?”

He sighed heavily. “Ellie.“

“Okay, okay,” she said. “Jesus.”

His eyes fell open, and he looked at her. It was an enormous comfort. “Why don’t you just start talking,” he said. “I’ll listen. Talking makes you feel better.”

“Are you saying I babble?”

“Yes,” he said. “I am.”

She took a deep breath. She wanted to talk, it was true. Ever since the mall, she had been planted with a kind of sudden-feeling sadness that had taken root from the ordeal with David, and the sadness was not without origin, though it had felt so for a long time. All the driving and the quiet and the wandering of the cellar had helped her locate its exact origin.

“I guess…” she said. She set down her knife, warmed her hands in the fire. “I don’t know. Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure,” said Joel. His eyes were closed again. He looked serene.

“Did you love Tess?” she said, hesitant. “I mean, was that…love?”

His breath seemed to catch, sort of. Or, that’s what she thought. His eyes were papery, sunken. He opened them and looked down at his hands as if they were, themselves, the source of all the hell he had lived. “I don’t know, Ellie.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to answer.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“I was just wondering,” she said. “I mean, before I met you, I had this friend. Her name was Riley. And she died. She got bitten, the same time as me. We had a…thing. I mean, we kissed, okay? It probably seems stupid to you, but it wasn’t to me. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

When she looked up, he had not looked away or closed his eyes. He just nodded in recognition. “It ain’t stupid at all. Go on.”

She leaned back on her palms. She gazed up at the ceiling. It was vaulted with these heavy wooden planks that were half rotted to the pulp. The whole place was overgrown with dormant grapevines that had infiltrated from the earth. “I was just wondering. How do you know? Like, if you love someone. I mean, she’s gone. I just, how will I ever know?”

Joel was looking at her now, crushed by the weight of his many historic tragedies. He didn’t move, because moving took energy, and he needed to save his energy. He just breathed. The fire crackled vibrantly, filling the room with the smell of meat and smoke. “Love is different for everybody, kiddo,” he said. “What it means for me might not be the same as what it means for you.”

“Well, what does it mean for you? Give me a point of reference.” She sat so expectantly beside him. She had moved closer at some point. She was extremely resilient, but he knew that impending before her were many years in which she would have to bring herself to accept all that had been taken, and in due time, she would establish a new code based entirely around how to protect the few good things that remained. He knew this all too well, and it made his heart feel sick.

“Okay,” he said, humoring her. “There are only a handful of people in my life who have ever really known me, Ellie.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. He was looking at the fire again, and all of its spirit. “Tommy. Sarah.” The rabbit was nearly done, he could see. “You.” He looked at Ellie. “And Tess.”

Ellie stayed quiet. She was listening very close wither her knees pulled up, and her hands behind her, getting dirty from the floor.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, if there is somebody in your life with whom you are able to let your guard down, even if only for a second, it could be something like love. But that’s just me.” He closed his eyes again, and the conversation ended.

She was satisfied.

A little time went by. Ellie yanked the rabbit off the spit and carved it up for the two of them. They ate side-by-side, with their fingers, drinking sugary wine out of the bottle. Ellie thought it tasted mostly gross, but she enjoyed the ritual feel. Joel told her to take it easy, but he didn't seem to mind much. What's a little cashed wine at the end of the world?

After a couple minutes, Ellie said, “So, you love me, huh?”

Joel grumbled, took a long pull from the bottle, giving her the side-eye. “Eat your damn food,” he said next. “We’re leaving in the morning. I need you fed.”

“Aye aye, cap’n.” She saluted.

Later on as Joel slept, the moon rose outside. Ellie kept watch on him until she couldn’t stay awake anymore, just to make sure he kept breathing.