#also don't take shots and then drive folks

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

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chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption.  a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?” 

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough. 

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says. 

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her. 

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways. 

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet. 

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?” 

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out. 

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face. 

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.” 

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.” 

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?” 

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?” 

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?” 

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?” 

“I’m your only niece.” 

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.” 

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. 

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap. 

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah. 

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough? 

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.  

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe. 

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries. 

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over,  biding your time until your date arrives. 

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad. 

And then there’s Joel. 

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. 

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone. 

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you. 

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are. 

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down. 

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender. 

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic. 

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks. 

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears. 

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.” 

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.” 

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons. 

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive. 

But at a cost. 

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced. 

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around. 

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside. 

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling. 

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes. 

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…” 

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.” 

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.” 

“Yeah?” 

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air. 

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind. 

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall. 

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there. 

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you. 

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm. 

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious. 

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter. 

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core. 

“Joel-” 

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic. 

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this. 

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back. 

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you. 

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you. 

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-” 

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard. 

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move. 

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response. 

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth. 

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask. 

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers. 

“I was right about you,” you manage. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating. 

“You’re trouble.” 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.” 

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.” 

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…” 

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?” 

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel.  “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt. 

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice. 

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.” 

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low. 

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed. 

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him. 

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over. 

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.” 

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust. 

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.” 

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone. 

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible. 

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–” 

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile. 

It hits you like a freight train. 

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw. 

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.  

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before? 

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-” 

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?” 

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises. 

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.” 

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep. 

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly. 

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.” 

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip. 

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” 

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite. 

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

“This was nice. I had a really good time.” 

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.” 

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.” 

“Okay.”

-

part vi

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[familyvideostevie]

living high until that fatal day

a/n: i never do this. literally, never. when i'm not here i'm writing stuff that's not x reader for ao3 and this is a fic i posted over there. it's a time loop story about joel and ellie. @bageldaddy told me i had to post it here. without her this fic would not exist. thank you so much, bea. so, here we go. if you read it, thank you. let me know what you think. joel miller & ellie williams gen fic. 7.5k words warnings: Time Loop, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, kind of???, it resolves, Suicide, only in one of the loops!, Canon-Typical Violence, joel gets stuck and has to figure it out, Father-Daughter Relationship, thoughts about sacrifice and love, POV Joel, mostly, this one is kind of intense folks, major character death tag is cause well the loop ends one way or another, gonna diverge at the end, but it ends well!!! i promise, also this is pretty firmly game but hbo folks should be okay!

summary: joel finds himself stuck in a time loop of that day in salt lake city.

Joel lies to her. 

He's got dried blood under his fingernails and his shoulder aches from the kick of the rifle and he's so, so tired. 

But he lies to her. 

If he was a smarter man he'd have thought of something better. Told her that the hospital got raided or they had a FEDRA mole, how the whole thing was a sham from the start. He doesn't know if she was awake for any of it. If the last thing she remembers is him reaching for her and failing to save her. If she remembers what it feels like to drown. 

It's hard to look at her in the mirror but he manages. Just keep driving, hands tight on the wheel. Don't white knuckle, don't spook her. She's in the car. She's safe. He did it. 

"We found the Fireflies," he says. She doesn't look at him. "Turns out there's a...a whole lot more like you, Ellie. People that're immune. It's dozens, actually." 

There's a strange pull in his gut, a pull that he's felt a few times before in the moments before everything went south. When the soldier pointed his gun by the river, when Tess looked at him on her last day, when he fell off the ledge in Colorado. But he ignores it. 

"Ain't done a damn bit of good, either. They've actually st--" Ellie closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She doesn't look at him. "They've stopped looking for a cure. I'm takin' us home. I'm sorry."

She turns her back to him and the pull becomes a burn, becomes a black hole under his ribcage taking everything with him. He blinks once, twice, wonders if he got shot and didn't notice, if he cracked a rib and it punctured his lung, if --

The road in front of him disappears. 

He can't see a damn thing -- not like the lights went out, like there is nothing to see. There is nothing in front of him at all.

Then, Joel wakes up yesterday. 

___ 

He jolts awake with a strangled yell. Ellie kneels over him, the rifle he taught her to hold slung over her shoulder. It's just past dawn based on the color of the sky and how he can make out most of her face, her withdrawing hand and her unimpressed but slightly concerned frown. 

"You were talking again," Ellie says. "Nightmares?" 

Joel tears his eyes from her and thunks his head back down on his crumpled up jacket. The trees stretch high above him and he tries to get it together so he doesn't spook her. 

They’re camped within sight of the highway. Salt Lake City has been looming for days now and Joel doesn't want to take any chances. The ring-road is almost clear, dotted here and there with cars and a fair amount of supplies, enough that Joel suspects people haven't been here for some time. If this is another Colorado State situation, he's going to have to put Ellie in a car and take them back to Jackson before she does something stupid.

She's fine. Well, no, not quite. Things aren't the same and they never will be but he can tell she's doing her best and he won't ask more than that. Their pace has slowed this week and he's having a hard time figuring out if she's sliding back into some sort of post-Colorado haze or if she's nervous about actually arriving in Salt Lake. 

God knows he's nervous as hell.

But every day she'll walk as far as he tells her to and won't complain. He knows she wants to get there. They have to get there and it has to work -- because he doesn't know what they're going to do otherwise. 

She asked him a question. Nightmares. Joel sits up and drags his hand down his face.

"Somethin' like that."

Ellie shrugs and starts to clean up their camp now that he's awake. He still hates letting her take watch, but she needs to feel in control of things, so they split it most nights. She hums a little bit as she works and he has hopes that today might be a good day.

But that dream... It comes back in flashes: the giraffes, the tunnel. Ellie hanging from the side of the bus because she jumped to save him, her small frame sinking slowly, just out of reach. The crack of her ribs underneath his hands. The hospital. The Fireflies.

Joel gets up, rolls his shoulder at a phantom pain and looks down at his hands. Crusted with dirt and nothing more. 

Jesus Christ. He's losing it. 

They set off. 

The blue hospital sign seems to shine in the spring sun all too soon.

"This is where we get off. Let's go, kiddo."

Joel talks even though he knows she's not listening. He talks to take his mind off of the echo that sits at the base of his neck with every step. Has he told her he'll teach her guitar before? He's been thinking it for months. 

Ellie trails behind him, kicking rocks and half-heartedly searching cars when he asks her to. She heads for a faded blue sedan but he stops her. 

"Blue one won't open, don't bother." 

The look she gives him makes him think about what he just said. "How do you know that?"

He blinks. How does he know that? Before he can explain it, Ellie shrugs and keeps walking. 

The disinterest is new and it doesn't sit well with him. She's been through a lot, more than any kid deserves, and they're almost there. He figures it's worse today because of that. 

"I dreamt about flying the other night."

Joel's stomach twists. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Go on, tell me about it."

She tells him about her dream, about how it felt to fly and then fall, and he is dizzy with deja vu. 

"I've never been on a plane." Ellie looks at him like he can tell her what it means. Like he has any damn answers at all. "Isn't that weird?"

Joel hums and swallows the lump in his throat. The bus terminal. Ellie, drowning. Firefly after Firefly in his path. His hands flex around a gun that isn't there. 

"Well, you know. Dreams are weird." It tastes like a lie in his mouth but he can't figure out why. 

It gets worse when they find the bus station, when she runs off in search of something that's got her smiling. Her small hand reaches for the giraffe, her eyes bright, but Joel feels like he's watching it through a fog. He knows what she's going to say before she says it. 

"So fucking cool."

Joel has seen a lot of weird shit in his life but whatever is happening here is leagues above the rest. It bumps up against something in his brain, like the answer is just out of reach but he can't fucking get there. Always a step behind when it counts. 

Ellie hands him a picture of his dead daughter and something in him comes dangerously close to snapping. Instead of gratitude or sorrow or anything that would make sense, he's terrified. 

He's fucking terrified because this happened. Which means he knows what comes next. 

But there's no time to worry about it. They pick their way through the tunnel, through the runners and the clickers and the fucking bloaters. The pressure on his neck gets heavier, gets almost unbearable. He's strung tighter than he's been in years, like the walls are closing in on him and there's a timer he can't see. 

When they get to the rapids, he waits for Ellie to get to the other side of the bus until he jumps on it but it dislodges. The dam in his head breaks and he yells, screams at her to run, to leave him, but she jumps on the bus anyway. 

She drowns.

Joel doesn't doubt that the Fireflies are coming -- he hears them --  but he doesn't take his eyes off of her, doesn't stop the chest compressions until he's knocked out.

The rest of it is a blur, his sense of reality already warped by his need to get to the operating room. To save her. 

Joel picks them off one by one, floor by floor, hardly taking note of how familiar it all feels. He doesn't even give the surgeon a chance to speak before he's dead, a bullet between the eyes. He knows they'll make it to the elevator. He kills Marlene. He drives them away.

He lies. 

He wakes up yesterday again.

___

It takes a few days before Joel purposely deviates from what he's thinking of as the script. His head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds when he wakes in the clearing, Ellie's eyes on him.

He thinks about it as they pack up camp. Can he get them out of here? Would that be allowed? The rules of this aren't clear to him but he figures it can't hurt to try. They could turn around right now and make it back to Jackson in a week or so. 

He watches Ellie carefully arrange her things in her bag, watches her stop to admire a butterfly in the branches above. He watches her and tries to see her alive and not pale on an operating table. 

"Ellie," he says. "I got a bad feelin' about this."

She loves to tell him he's overreacting but today she crosses her arms and sits back on her heels. "What do you mean?"

Her scream as she falls into the water. Her ribs cracking beneath his hands. The piercing alarm in the hospital, her body warm but limp in his arms.

"What if we waited?" She frowns but he keeps going. "Went back to Jackson, rested up. Took a break. Come back in a few months with a bit of a crew. Tommy'll give us some guys, hell, I bet he'll come with if you want --"

"No," Ellie says sharply. There's an edge to her voice he hasn't heard in a long time. "Joel, shut up."

"Ellie --"

She stands abruptly, takes a few steps back. "I said no."  The look on her face tells Joel he's already lost. "Are you -- are you fucking kidding me? You want to go back? Now?"

He sighs. "Just to rest up. We don't know what we're walking into --"

Ellie throws her hands around in disbelief. Her eyes look wet. Christ, he's made her cry again. He promised himself he wouldn't do that. 

"We don't know if they'll still be there."

"We don't know if they are there."

"And we won't find out if we fucking run away like cowards!"

Joel stands. "I don't want another Colorado State situation, Ellie --" Her face shutters. Mistake. 

"Don't bring up Colorado," she growls. "You don't know what that was like." 

Damn right he doesn't. He knows by now what happened but he'll never know how hard it was for her to survive when he was busy dying on that mattress. But he has to try something or they'll just end up here again tomorrow. Yesterday. Whatever. 

The idea of her suffering makes his hackles rise, makes his blood run cold

. 

"Can I finish a god damned sentence?" he snaps. Ellie is undeterred and snaps back.

"Not if it's going to be about leaving. We-- I -- we're not fucking leaving. Not after everything. We can't."

Joel sighs and drags a hand down his face. This girl. He's trying to save her and she can't see it. There's no way to make her see it and it's his fault. She should know by now that he'd do anything, anything, for her. He lost that battle a long time ago, probably longer ago than he'd like to admit. 

"I know," he tells her. "Just...if you want to give it all up, to go back, we can. We don't have to go through with this."

Ellie's eyes are blazing and her tone is disappointed. It cuts deep. "Yes we do. I thought you'd understand that, Joel."

He follows her this time as she stalks down the highway towards the hospital. No mention of six strings, no dreams about planes. They catch the giraffes but she doesn't stick around to watch them for as long. It's a different kind of loss to be without her smile, her laughter. Joel wishes he'd never opened his god damned mouth. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "For earlier." Ellie pauses on the stairs and half turns to look up at him. "I know it's important to you."

She sighs. "I know you mean well." Joel closes his eyes. He knows what comes next. "But there's no halfway with this. Once we're done, we'll go wherever you want, okay?"

He plays his part for the rest of the day, just to get it over with. 

___

Next time, Joel waits until they're watching the giraffes to try something different. 

"So," he says. "This everything you were hoping for?"

Ellie gives him her half-smile. "It's got its ups and downs, but...you can't deny that view, though."

He seizes his chance. "Wanna go down there?" 

She perks up. "Really? Do you think they'll let us get close?"

"They might. Let's try." 

They manage to backtrack a little bit and end up on the field. It smells like a zoo but Ellie is thrilled to be so close so they post up on the roof of a rusty FEDRA Jeep. Two of the giraffes end up eating out of the tree right above them. Ellie holds her breath. 

"They just...don't care, do they?" she whispers. "How long do you think they've been here?"

She leans into his side and cranes her neck to watch one of them use its tongue. 

"Don't know," he says. "Big ones could've been from before. But the tiny one s'probably younger than you."

"So cool," she says again. "They're from a zoo, right? I wonder if anything else lives in the city."

They've been sitting here long enough that the sun has started to set. Joel allows himself to hope. 

"Might be. What do you say we spend the night here and look on the way to the hospital tomorrow? Daylight'll do us better."

Ellie chews on his suggestion. "I guess," she says. "Are we safe here?"

"Should be." Joel has no idea, frankly. He sure as hell wants them to wake up here in the morning. He wants to make good on this idea, wants to show her something else that'll make her smile. He wants this to be a bizarre, unexplainable day that he'll forget about with time.

"I'll keep watch."

They set up camp crowded against the fence so Joel can see the whole field. The giraffes leave them alone and Ellie falls asleep quickly after they eat.

In the quiet open air the dread in his gut returns full-force and he knows he's wrong. Again.

A branch cracks and he whirls around, rifle in hand to find three men pointing their guns at him through the wire. They might be wearing Firefly jackets but he can't tell. He doesn't care. Joel dares to look at Ellie for a second and sees she's still asleep. 

It's a mistake.

One of them follows his gaze and his eyes widen.

"Holy shit," he whispers. "She looks like who Marlene said --"

"Shut up," the second one hisses. "On the ground, old man."

"How are you gonna get around that fence, hotshot?" he says. "Ellie. Ellie, wake up."

She blinks a few times and sees his stance. scrambling to her feet with her knife in hand.

"Holy shit. What the fuck?"

"Get behind me."

One of the soldiers points his gun at her. 

"Don't move."

It's chaos after that. The guys shout at each other. 

"Don't point it at her! Don't you remember the fucking briefing?"

"You hadn't even joined when we got here, you don't know. We've been looking for her for months --"

"If you shoot her we're all dead --"

Joel locks eyes with Ellie.

"When I say run, you run. Okay?" 

The fear in her eyes turns to determination. Brave girl, he thinks. I'm sorry. He waits for the idiot pointing at her to look away and takes a deep breath. What's one more day?

"Run!"

Joel doesn't check to see if she obeys before firing through the fence. The rifle is incredibly powerful at such a short range and where there was once a head there's only mist. Joel clears the chamber as fast as he can and gets the second one in the shoulder but he's not fast enough for a third and before he realizes it he's on his back in the grass. 

The Firefly's assault rifle litters Joel's chest with bullets but he doesn't feel it until he tries to take a breath and nothing comes. It's like he's underwater.

At least he didn't make her cry this time.

__

Joel isn't much of a believer in anything but he decides fairly quickly that he's in Hell or something close. God knows he deserves it. 

His sins are countless, his ledger dripping with red just like his hands. They will never be clean. What he can't figure out is how he got here. Did he die somewhere in St. Mary's? Is the real world somewhere else beyond his reach, now? If he died then what happened to Ellie?

He tries to make tallies in the bark of a tree on the edge of camp but they disappear every time he wakes up. He makes do with his own slowly unspooling brain. Two, five, ten.

Ellie is much the same every time but somewhere around day twenty she asks him about it. "How do you know where everything is?"

They're in the bus depot before the tunnel. He's taking them quickly around the tents, putting off Ellie handing him a photo of his dead daughter. It's muscle memory at this point. A pair of pliers here, some rags there. A half-empty but uncracked bottle of hooch behind that blood-stained bed, some bullets under that overturned partition. 

"Just payin' attention."

"I pay attention!"

Joel uses the excuse to grin at her. It's hard sometimes to remember that she has no idea what's coming, that he can and should be good to her every chance he gets. The violence has already started to blur together in his mind. Killing everyone in the hospital is by far the easiest part of this fucking loop. These parts are harder. 

"Didn't say you don't."

"I feel like that was a double negative."

She's still energized from the giraffes and he knows she's working up the courage to talk about Sarah, but right now he wants to spend time with her. He spots the Firefly medal tangled in the shattered floodlight and points it out. 

"Ellie," he says. She's at his side in seconds, looking up at him with eyes brighter than he's seen in weeks. "Wanna get that down?"

She gives him her classic why are you like this look. "Are you going to be weird and pick it up?"

Joel shrugs and leans on the rotting tank nearby. "Just want to check your aim."

"My aim is really fucking good and you know it!" Even so, she picks up a brick from her feet and palms it, eyeing the silver circle before winding her arm back and hurling the brick towards it. 

She misses. Maybe three hundred miles and a trail of dead bodies ago she'd have stormed off, embarrassed and pissed. But she just makes a face at the still-swinging medal and then looks at him. "How did I miss that?"

He pushes off the tank and scoops up a glass bottle. "Sun s'probably in your eyes." Joel stands next to her and eyes the target, trying to compensate in his mind for her height. "Stand here." Ellie moves over in front of him and he hovers his arm over her. "Can I?"

She nods. Joel presses the bottle into her hand and she takes it as he maneuvers her with a hand on her elbow until she's got the trajectory he thinks will work. 

"Now?" she asks. "Feels pretty fucking similar to what I was doing."

"Just trust me. Throw a little lighter than last time. And higher."

Ellie sighs, but once he steps back she does as he says and nails the medal hard enough that it drops to the ground. She whoops and turns around, hands high in the air and a wide smile on her face. Joel tries to breathe through how easily she puts her faith in him. 

"Fuck yeah! Did you see that?" She holds both hands out for a high five and he obliges. 

"Sure did. Nice job, kiddo."

When Ellie hands him the picture of Sarah, he pulls her in for a hug. He half expects her to shove him off but instead she allows it, twisting her hands in his shirt as he cups the back of her head. 

"Thank you," Joel says quietly, thickly. 

Later, when he finds her on the operating table, he presses his lips to her forehead for an extra moment before picking her up and heading for the elevator. 

__

He messes with the order of things a little bit. Tries to make their morning last longer, tries to stay watching the giraffes for an hour or so. 

Sometimes it works. 

Sometimes it doesn't. 

Watching Ellie drown over and over fucks with his head more than the hospital does because he can't stop it. At least while he's leaving behind corpse after corpse he knows that she's asleep upstairs, waiting for him. In the tunnel, he knows that the only way out is through, but she has to fucking drown first. 

He gets sloppy. 

He forgets about the runners in the side rooms when he ducks in to avoid a clicker and takes a step too close. Ellie is behind him as always and he shoves her back blindly as three runners slam him against the metal railing of the stairs before he can reach for his gun. He's too surprised to feel anything, but their breath smells like rotting meat and something worse, something that makes his eyes water. 

Joel searches the room for her and finds her -- pale-faced and terrified, already reaching for her knife. He tries to say her name but it comes out as a scream when one of the runners goes for his shoulder, jagged teeth ripping through his shirt in an instant. 

"Ellie -- run, Ellie -- GO --" He begs her to leave him but his voice stops working as his throat is ripped out. The last thing he sees is her horrified face as she raises her pistol.

And then he wakes up yesterday. 

___

It occurs to him on day 30 -- if he's keeping track accurately -- that he's got one of the smartest people he knows at his disposal. Kid's got an encyclopedic knowledge of space as well as science fiction stories. He asks her while they're still on the highway, stalling though he can see the blue H sign from here.

"Y'ever read stuff about time?" No reply. "Ellie?" She's staring at that deer again. "Ellie."

"What?" 

"You read any stories about time back in school?"

"Uh, sure," she says. She tugs her sleeves over her hands and catches up to him, eyes on the ground. "Why?"

"Saw a weird movie 'bout it once. Somethin' reminded me of it this mornin'. Guy gets stuck in a...shit, what did they call it?" Joel peeks inside an RV and smells rot so he leaves it be. "He lives the same day over and over."

"A time loop!" Ellie sounds more excited about this than anything they've talked about for days. "Those are so fucking cool. Scary, though. I feel like I'd go crazy."

Joel drags a hand down his face. "Yeah," he says. "How do you think you get outta one?"

"Well, how did the guy in the movie do it?"

"He stopped bein' an asshole," he says. Ellie laughs. 

"Well, we know that's not possible for you. Guess you're fucked."

"Guess so," he mutters. 

The H sign is close enough that she'll see it any minute. He wishes for the hundredth time that they could just stay out here all day, just talking. If he had a guitar he'd play for her. If he had a fucking car he'd put her in it and turn around, even though it wouldn't do any good. They'd just end up right back here because he can't fucking figure out how to get out of this. 

"I think you just have to change, right?" Ellie says. She's looking at the photo of an airplane on the bus. This time she doesn't tell him about her dream. Is he losing pieces of her, already? "I guess it doesn't have to be about yourself. Maybe something you do, or something you say. It's the universe telling you to make a different choice, right?"

That's the fucking thing. The choice isn't an option. It's not even a choice. 

The one thing he hasn't tried and will not try is leaving the hospital when Marlene tells him to. He'd rather die a thousand times, rather live this shit show over and over for the rest of eternity than let them cut her brain out. They will not touch her while there is still breath in his body. 

He'd do it all over again. He will.

__

Joel tries a hundred things and they don't work. 

After his conversation with Ellie he decides to really fuck with the day. Doesn't matter, right? So long as she's not put in any extra danger he considers it. He begs her to walk away, get on his knees and pleads with her throughout the day. Doesn't work. She just gets pissed at him like that first time and he doesn't push it because he can't bear to see her cry. He lengthens their morning in the clearing, fakes sick or says the rifle is jammed and needs cleaning. That goes south, too, when a pack of runners wanders through the woods and straight into them. They make it to the highway and have to miss the giraffes because they're running. 

One time Joel spends all day zig-zagging them around the city to avoid the tunnel. The Fireflies find them much the same way except they shoot him on sight and grab Ellie right out of his arms as he bleeds out on the cracked asphalt, her screams echoing in his ears. 

Another time, he ties them together in the tunnel with some fraying rope and they both drown. 

Killing Marlene early gets him a bullet in the head and not killing her at all gets him back where he started, no change. 

Joel even begs the doctor to run more tests first, to try blood, to try anything, but it takes too long and the alarm sounds and he's cornered in the operating room before he can grab Ellie and go. 

Nothing fucking works. 

But what is there left to change?

__

His mind starts to fray. He loses count of the loops and it becomes hard to detach himself from the slaughter. Not even the good moments -- Ellie's laughter, the awe in her face when she sees the giraffes, her jokes and her muted but still sharp sarcasm -- keep him afloat. He's lost, adrift in a sea of blood and bullets and it starts to eat away any humanity that was left in him. 

The blood of hundreds, thousands maybe, is on his hands and he feels nothing.

Once and only once does he get there too late. Everything else goes like it always does but maybe he took too long on the first floor, maybe he took too long picking the guys one by one instead of using the assault rifle, maybe maybe maybe. 

When Joel gets to the pediatric ward he knows something is different -- he can hear a buzzing sound, something loud and unnatural. The stale air is thick with something metallic, tinged with death. The buzzing stops and he finds his feet glued to the floor outside the operating room. Voices on the other side of it, murmuring and the clink of metal on a tray. Joel's hand shakes when he reaches for the knob because he knows whatever he finds on the other side is going to kill him. 

But he opens it because he has to. The doctor is at the sink this time, the nurses nowhere to be found. Ellie's body is covered in a sheet, blood seeping through the fabric. Joel looks away. He just stands there, his heartbeat loud in his ears as the world ends. 

The first time his daughter died, Joel thought he could will it not to be so. He held her as long as he could, whispered her name with her blood drying on his hands until Tommy begged him to get moving. 

This time, he knows it's true and he knows there's only one ending. 

He raises his gun at the doctor who is now leaning on the edge of the sink. The door swings open and the nurses return, eyes wide and vibrating with the energy of a job well done. He swings over to them and kills them both with quick headshots. The doctor has barely turned around when he's dead, too.

Joel breathes, ears ringing. He manages one step closer to the operating table but his knees buckle and he goes down hard on the cool tile. His vision is blurry. Is he crying?

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby." He angles himself so he won't get any blood on her and then presses the barrel of his gun to his temple and pulls the trigger. 

__

If Joel was on the edge of losing his mind before, now he's laser focused. He doesn't pull any more shit. He settles back into the loop, savoring Ellie's laughter with the giraffe and gunning down every sorry motherfucker in his way at the hospital. He will not get there late ever again. 

So when Marlene says something different the next time around and he almost misses it.

Ellie is dead weight in his arms but she's warm and he can see the rise and fall of her chest. The hospital was messier than usual because he rushed this time, cutting down the Fireflies like it was his last stand. There's blood in his hair and crusted under his fingernails and his shirt is beyond ruined. 

"Are you going to tell her what happened here?" Marlene presses her hand into her side, blood leaking from around her crimson palm. "Are you going to tell her what you did?"

He lies to her.

Every time.

It's never occurred to him to try something else. Even though he's changed almost everything about this damn day except that. 

Because Joel knows what happens if he tells the truth. He knows what that will cost him.

And he doesn't know if he'll survive it.

He's afraid. Joel doesn't want to lose her and if that makes him selfish then so be it. He wants to take her back to Jackson and give her a bedroom of her own and as many stupid comics as she wants and three meals a day for the rest of her long, peaceful life. He wants her to grow up and grow old. 

He'd kill a thousand more Fireflies to make it happen.

He'd damn the whole world. 

Because he loves her and it fucking hurts. 

This girl and her puns and her comics and her god damned bravery and her bleeding heart. He doesn't want to lose her. 

But is this, whatever this endless hell is, is it fair to her? 

If it's breakable, if he has the ability to get them to tomorrow, to get them to Jackson, to get them home, shouldn't he? If he loves her shouldn't he give her a life even if he's not in it?

Joel gently arranges Ellie in the backseat and shoots Marlene in the head. 

__

For a few seconds Ellie thinks she's in the car on the way into Pittsburgh. The hum of the old engine, the rocking motion of the truck. But -- wait. She's lying down. The car smells...musty. And she's cold like she's wearing a dress and --

"What the hell am I wearing?"

She flutters her eyes open. Different truck. Backseat. Is she in a...hospital gown? What the fuck? Where is she?

"Just take it easy," Joel says. Okay, so she's with Joel. Something in her chest settles. She must be safe. "Drugs are still wearin' off."

Drugs? Ellie pushes back into her memory and tries to find something, anything that'll give her a clue as to what's going on here. They were in the bus tunnel. The water was rushing, Joel jumped on the bus and it started moving and she...fell into the water? 

It's a blur after that. More of a blank, really. Did they get to the hospital? Did they find the Fireflies? Based on her weird fucking outfit it sure seems like it.

"What happened?"

Joel's eyes flick up in the rearview mirror to look at her. "Let's get you into some clothes, first. Then we'll take a break and I'll tell you everythin'."

He sounds tired. More tired than he's ever sounded, frankly, but she can't imagine why. And he can't seem to stop looking at her like she's going to disappear. Like he hasn't seen her in ages. 

"Okay," she says slowly. "Where the hell are we going to get those?" 

"Your bag is on the floor by your feet." Joel veers off the highway down an exit ramp and Ellie sits up. Her head feels light for a second and then really heavy so she braces her hands on the seat in front of her and takes a few deep breaths. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah. Fucking...drugs, I guess. What'd they do that for?"

"They ran some tests. We'll talk about it."

Normally she'd push him but something feels off. Ellie tries to get a good look at his face but she can't, not from this angle, and not with her head fucking pounding like it is. She's missing so much time. It makes her skin crawl, makes her heart race. Joel is here, she tells herself. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. 

He parks them at the edge of a cemetery and gets out of the car to stand guard while she changes out of the gown. Her last pair of jeans, apparently, and a grey t-shirt with a few holes in the collar. She wishes she had a sweatshirt or something to wrap around herself, to pull over her hands and feel covered. But beggars can't be choosers. At least someone put her shoes in her backpack. 

Joel doesn't turn around when she opens the door but she sees him stiffen. 

"I'm done." He looks back at her and she finally sees his face. "Jesus Christ, Joel, what happened to you?"

It's not just the blood. Sure, he's got dried streaks of it on his neck and in his hair. Ellie glances at his hands and sees it crusted under his fingernails, too. But he looks wrecked. Older, somehow. He looks like something terrible happened, the way she remembers his face when he fell from the balcony in Colorado, when he found her in the burning restaurant. But somehow it's worse. 

He's looking at her like he can't believe she's real. 

"Alright." Joel lowers the rifle and ignores her question, clearly. "Didn't see anythin'. Should be fine to sit here for a bit."

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck happened?"

He moves like he's going to drag a hand down his face but thinks better of it. "Yeah," he says. "I am." 

Ellie swings her legs so they're hanging out the door. Joel leans the rifle against the truck and crosses his arms. "You're making me kind of nervous, man."

"Just...promise me you'll hear me out to the end."

Yeah, something is going on. She doesn't like it. 

"Uh, sure."

"What do you remember?" 

Good fucking question. "The tunnel. The bus and -- water. I fell in, right?"

Joel nods, clears his throat. "Jumpin' on the bus was dumb. Don't do that again." 

She snorts. "Yeah, okay. Point taken. But I was afraid you were going to drown!"

"You did." He delivers the news in a flat tone she doesn't like. She drowned?

"Are you serious?"

"I got us out of the water and tried to get you breathin' again." Ellie realizes her chest is sore. She imagines Joel doing compressions like they showered her in school, imagines his panicked face, his hoarse voice calling her name. Fuck.

"Did it work?"

"No," he says. "Fireflies found us first and knocked me out." 

"That doesn't make sense." She frowns. "They knocked you out?"

Joel shrugs. "Just tellin' you what happened."

This isn't how she imagined it would go. She never told Joel, but for weeks she's been thinking about waltzing up to the hospital and telling them who she is. She pictured Joel telling her jokes while she got her blood drawn, pictured him staring down nurses and doctors while they made the cure. She figured it would take a few days, maybe a week, and then they'd be on their way back to Jackson. She had hoped Marlene might be there, too. She has so many questions about her mom. 

"What did they do with me?"

Joel looks troubled. "I...don't exactly know. It was a while before I saw you again."

It makes her skin crawl. He must be able to tell because he keeps talking. "I'm sure they just ran some tests while you were out. They brought you back, made sure you were breathin' okay."

"Tests?"

"I'm gettin' there." She feels like he's having a hard time looking at her. Something close to but not quiet dread sits heavy in her stomach. What happened?

"Joel..."

"I woke up inside the hospital. Marlene was there. Told me they didn't know it was us, that they'd been waiting." He pauses, drags a hand down his face. "You didn't wake up or nothin'? You sure?"

Ellie shakes her head. She doesn't remember anything after the tunnel. 

"Well, she told me they could do it. They had a doctor who could make the cure."

The air rushes out of Ellie all at once. "Are you fucking serious?"

"And then she said..." Joel chews on his words and looks away from her. He looks angry. 

"What did she say?"

"Makin' a vaccine...would've killed you."

The bottom drops out of Ellie's world. It's like a hundred doors in her brain open at once. 

It would have killed her? Are they sure? Did they do enough tests? Were they going to? Why didn't they wake her up? Were they going to ask her? How did they get out?

She swallows them all and manages just one in a broken whisper. "What did you do?"

Joel looks right at her. "I stopped them."

If Ellie wasn’t already sitting down she thinks her legs would give out. She knows that Joel meant what he said to her in Silver Lake. Knows that he'd do anything for her.

But this?

"What do you mean?" He shakes his head. "Joel. What do you mean, you stopped them?"

His shoulders slump. "They told me to leave and I refused. And I made sure no one can follow us to try again."

Static builds in her ears. She can read between the lines. She speaks Joel now. He killed them all, that much is clear to her. He killed them all, Marlene, too, probably, because she was supposed to die to save the world. Hot tears sting her nose and gather at the corner of her eyes. 

"But I -- but we -- I was supposed to...I'm the cure!"

"You're a person. You're a kid. Don't matter what's in your brain, you ain't dyin' for --"

Ellie pushes out of the truck and to her feet. Joel steps back to give her room but she knows he probably wants to touch her, to reassure her. The anger fills her, makes her face hot and her heart race. 

"Who said you get to make that choice? If they said I had to die maybe I should have? Then it would mean something --"

"Your immunity ain't the thing that matters most. You are. So I picked you," Joel yells.

She's really crying now, huge heaving sobs that make it hard to talk, make it hard to convey how angry she is. "Well, you picked wrong, asshole."

"I ain't gonna apologize for it. I'd do it all over again, the exact same way. Every time." Joel's expression is as serious as it gets. He used to look this way all the time. No nonsense, no room for argument. 

She tries to find the words anyway but they don't come.

"Now, you've got some options here," he says. "I think the best one is for us to go back to Jackson. I know Tommy'll take you in, and --

She laughs, or tries to. 

It sounds like something bitter and awful to her own ears. First he tells her she was supposed to die today and now he wants to leave her?

"Are you fucking serious, Joel? You want to leave me again?" 

Joel's brows pinch together. He looks pained. Good. It feels like her chest is caving in, like her lungs aren't working right anymore. This must be what it felt like to drown in the bus terminal, to sink slowly, to fade away entirely. She read once that drowning was supposed to be peaceful. This hurts. 

"I want you to be safe," he says. "Jackson is the best place for that. I don't have to be there if you don't want me there --"

"I didn't fucking say that!" she yells. "I -- Jesus, give me a fucking second, okay?"

He stands by the door as she paces back and forth, tugging her hands through her hair. 

She was supposed to die. But she didn't. There's no cure. And it sure fucking sounds like Joel didn't leave any option to try again. 

He traded saving the world for her. 

It's too much.

"What do you want, Ellie?" Joel sounds like he's been awake for days. Like he's in pain, like he's being hollowed out. He sounds like how she feels. 

She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

"I want none of this to have happened! I want us to go back to this morning and I want us to not have gone into the bus tunnel and I want you to have asked for tests first, I want them to try something else. I want Marlene to tell me why they didn't wake me up. I want to do it again but differently, I want things to be different, I --"

Her words break off into a sob. "Ellie..." She opens her eyes and finds him reaching for her. His shirt is stained with dried blood but she steps into his hold and his arm wraps around her. 

"I don't know what to do, now," she whispers.

Joel exhales a shaky breath. "I know you wish things were different. I wish things were different. But they ain't."

They stand there, his hand dragging up and down her back. She listens to his heartbeat and remembers those nights in the basement when she thought it would stop any minute. 

"Fuck," she whispers, then pulls away. He lets her go. "Fuck, Joel."

He sighs. "Yeah, kiddo. Fuck."

He told her the truth and that means something. It hurts, it hurts so bad, and it doesn't absolve him of anything, but that matters. 

"I'm so angry with you," she says. "I don't know how to forgive you for...for...saving me." 

It sounds stupid as she says it but Joel nods solemnly. 

"That's alright." 

"But I..." She wants to get this part right. "Let's go back. To Jackson. We'll figure it out there. But you...you have to swear to tell me the truth. Just like this. We have to be honest with each other."

Joel meets her gaze without blinking. "I swear."

Ellie takes a deep breath. The anger, the horror, the disbelief at what he's done settle a little bit. She has no clue what comes next, but this is a start. 

"Okay."

__

Joel wakes up. 

His back hurts and his shoulder aches. It's dark, darker than it should be, darker than it's been for hundreds of days.

Ellie is asleep in the backseat of the truck. 

It's tomorrow. 

thank you for reading. let me know what you thought!

[sirfrogsworth]

Mental Health Sushi

My brain was a bag full of cats today and I really needed to get out of the house. I was also craving sushi.

Or maybe I was craving sushi because of the brain cats?

I don't get paid until Saturday so my friend told me he would buy me dinner to help me calm the cats.

I still don't have my new lens. They said it would be in stock by "end of week" so hopefully that means tomorrow. But my brain cats were also desiring photography.

Some demanding-ass cranial felines to be sure.

I headed across the river to Nice Sam's and I challenged myself to take some photos as I acquired sushi.

Sam's is a challenging place to get cool photos so I thought I would do something experimental to make things more interesting. I love panoramic photos but most people look at stuff on their phones and horizontal panos always look like a tiny sliver. So I wondered if it would be cool if I did vertical panoramas.

I started looking straight down and took 5 photos gradually raising my camera upward.

To all of the grade school bullies who made fun of my belly... I can totally see my feet.

I found the sushi and they had some interesting things. I tried doing a giant sushi panorama but my lens had way too much barrel distortion and the way I shot it caused... issues.

All of those vertical lines didn't help the situation.

If you use a wide angle lens it is best practice to rotate the camera around a nodal point.

This helps eliminate parallax artifacts and helps Photoshop get a better stitch. It can sort of unwrap and flatten your photos like the label on a soda bottle. But when I took a photo, I moved to the left, took a photo, moved to the left, took a photo. That's a better technique when you have a more tele lens with less distortion on the edges.

In any case, I grabbed some spicy tuna roll, a "dynamite" roll (which I had never tried before), and a variety pack.

Once I got my sushi I tried a few more vertical panoramas in the parking lot.

These two are kinda neat when you switch back and forth rapidly. My belly and feet line up. And I totally planned that. Definitely not a coincidence.

Hey PandaKhan! Put your cart back in the corral!

I was trying to look cool and roll my cart so it buttsex'd into the next one... but that just inched it forward. So I had to buttsex them the less cool way.

Which is a reminder to all you buttsexing folks to use a quality lubricant.

Oh, and I was also test driving my new jacket. I haven't needed to outstretch my arms like Superman as of yet, so the sizing might be okay after all.

Though, do those shoulders look a bit bunchy to you? I'm getting linebacker vibes from this photo. I dunno. I'm going to take better pictures later so I can evaluate the fit a little better. It's hard to tell from the mirror shots.

When I got home I started with the Dynamite Roll.

The crunchy onions on top were very tasty.

I don't know if my brain cats are any better but at least I'm not hungry anymore.

[seat-safety-switch]

There's nothing more honest than working on an old pickup truck. Unlike today's pickup trucks, old ones are basically just a chunk of steel bolted to an engine and an axle. Anything you can do to them is basically in the spirit of the original factory workers, even more so if you're drunk and/or high on things that aren't futuristic research chemicals. They hadn't invented those yet.

Now, you might also think that old pickup trucks are expensive. Sure, running and driving ones with all of their body panels have been enjoying a resurgence lately. With all the cool old luxury cars, muscle cars, shitty jeeps, and base-model commuter cars hoovered into the selfish grasp of exploitative capital, it's only a matter of time until they come for the humble, working man's pickup truck that was abandoned at the bottom of some farmer's field when the distributor finally exploded, now getting shot at periodically by his grandkids.

There's a lot of old trucks out there, because "old truck" used to mean "vehicle I grudgingly drove in order to accomplish actual work." The moment they stopped being reliable, they were gotten rid of, or relegated to chicken-coop duty. And, back in the day, there were more people who did actual work than there were folks who pushed spreadsheets around.

Supply is on your side: you can still get a deal. And if your standards are low enough, the range of "a deal" becomes very wide indeed. If you ask professional car restorers and collectors, they tell you to get the "best truck you can afford." That makes sense: if your goal is to end up with a working or at least semi-attractive truck, you'll spend less money and maybe fewer divorces starting with a 5/10 rather than a 3/10. Me, I'm not that picky. I'll take a 0.5/10. I'm all about the process.

All this is to explain why I just came home with a 1952 Mercury M100 pickup truck that consists mostly of the serial number plate and the rear axle (which is seized.) I figure I just need to sit on this thing for a few years longer, until prices really go nuts, and then I'll be able to sell it to someone whose business card says "Excel Astronaut" for the approximate price of a two-bedroom condo. And in the meantime, I'll have a cool project to work on that I don't have to worry too much about. If you help me get this chicken out of here, I'll cut you in on the deal.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

hiii :)

I'm literally obsessed with how you write soft Billy, so I would like to request a little fluff/angst/soft-in-general fic with Billy and trope 1 (There's only one bed)

your writing truly brings me so much comfort so thanks so much for that! x hope you're well!

Yes of course my love, thank you for the kind words :) Also this is the last thing I'm posting before going out to lunch with my dad... please send thoughts and prayers lol

"Which side do you want?" He asks, pointing to the bed as I hug myself, shifting my weight anxiously back and forth. "C'mon." He reaches out to me, fingers curling around my upper arm with a laugh.

"Sorry, just nervous." I reach down to tug my t-shirt further down my thighs, my bashful gaze avoiding his curious one. "Lot's happened tonight." I giggle, remembering back to the party we just left, the drink thrown in my face, my wobbly legs beneath me making my body feel completely unsteady from the alcohol. I didn't want to go home and face the wrath of my parents, worried that they would be able to tell I'm tipsy before I even opened my mouth.

Because, lets be honest, I'm oozing alcohol.

"I don't mind you bunking with me- trust me, I'm thrilled." He grins, leaning towards me and his nose brushes against mine. "Get in bed." My stomach swirls with butterflies and I do what he says, slipping under his covers, the smell of his cologne and the cigarettes he smokes swarming around me. He sits down on the side of the bed with a huff, working on slipping his shoes off and I watch him intently, loving the way his curls fall in his face.

He's so handsome and gentle with me and it's completely not expected. The last thing I expected from him when I called him to pick me up was him to be understand. I expected him to chastise me, annoyed that he had to waste the gas money to drive a half an hour away to help get my drunk ass in the car, and then give me a bed to sleep in.

Turning to me with a soft smile, he reaches out, brushing his fingers across my cheek. I smile softly, eyes fluttering shut at his gentle touch, soaking it in while he offers it.

"You're never like this." I whisper, worried that my words, that came out way faster than I hoped, will scare him away from, reverting back into his old self. "Kind, soft." I follow up, reaching out to take his hand in mine, playing with his fingers.

"Maybe it's cuz I know you're drunk off your ass and you won't remember this." I roll my eyes, pulling him down to me as he allows himself a moment to just relax into me, face pressed into the crook of my neck, breathing quietly.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Moving update

I'm grateful to the folks checking in on me and @crowtoed and thought I'd drop a quick update.

We're almost done putting all non-essentials in storage. The many bins are an investment in case we have to do this again. (I have already started researching shipping containers for an overseas move.) I'm going to buy storage unit insurance this week because I have more valuables stowed away than standard homeowners will cover.

My storage unit is almost the same size as the moving truck, which makes it easy to guage if I have to purge/store anything that won't fit. I'm going to hire the biggest trailer from upack.com when it's time to leave. The prices are amazing - less than $4k to move to Connecticut.

The Florida realtor (a condo expert) is viewing my place tomorrow, and with her advice, we'll start on final repairs/refreshes (this place is 23 years old, about when things like windows and tile get rather iffy). My mother graciously gifted me money to cover the majority of the fixes. This move would be a lot harder without her help.

Mom is also letting us stay short-term in her MiL suite a few towns over, so we can sell my condo asap. That means we don't have to worry about timing the purchase of the new house with closing on the old. Plus, I should have a few paychecks rent-free I can sock away / apply towards mutual aid.

We're hoping the condo sells by June or so. Once that happens, I'll use some of the funds towards old debt to nudge my credit rating ever closer to 800 (it's 778 rn, a multi-year project as I used to be in the 400s). Most of the rest of the money will be earmarked for a generous down payment on the new home.

We're still looking in Connecticut and have a realtor there as well. If it's possible, we can afford to fly up a few times to check out houses. The realtor told us our budget for what we want (1500sq ft or larger) is totally doable. The housing market there is weirdly reasonable.

Work is incredibly kind and has said if I need more than 2 weeks to move, I can take whatever time I need. I am fully remote now and blessed to be part of such a progressive company.

We still have some household and personal things to sell, but it's more out of "I no longer like/need this" than an urgent need for money. But thank you to everyone who has offered cash. It means so much to us to have such a strong safety net. If this happened even 5 years ago, we'd have been up shit creek.

Once we close on the new house, we'll drive up asap to move in. This is when we'll know our route and we'll connect with folks along it who have offered to be pitstops for us and the cats. The moving truck will meet us there in 5-7 business days after we leave Orlando.

My HRT Rx also got renewed for 6 months, and with my current stash + a little rationing, I shouldn't have any interruption with my shots, even if pharmacies start refusing me come July.

We're hoping to be all settled in the new home come October, but are dependant on the housing market. But we're stacking as many chips in our favor as we can.

Again, thank you, thank you to everyone who has reached out. I'll update again when something major changes.

[kaiowut99]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episode 1 Subbed (Finalized Re-Release)

(Original Finalized Release Post)

(Check out my Subbed!GX Stream Masterpost!)

TURN-1: Yugi's Successor

On his way to the Entrance Exams for the Duel Academia High School, Judai Yuki meets the legendary duelist Yugi Mutou and receives a card from him. Running late, Judai arrives at the venue and requests to take his exam, but Instructor Chronos sees Judai's exam as pointless given his lackluster score on the written exam. A duel begins between Judai and Chronos, and Chronos's rare Antique Gear Golem card uses its powerful 3000 ATK to damage Judai. His back against the wall, Judai hears the voice of a Monster--which turns out to belong to the card he received from Yugi, Winged Kuriboh...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...I first posted the original finalized version of this episode almost 10 years ago??? Time is an illusion...

Fresh off the presses, it's a re-finalized version of my episode 1 subs! Well, probably re-re-re-re-finalized given my penchant for consistency and quality after previous revisions in the past 2-3 years, between fixing a handful of animation errors and terminology revisions... But this one merited a new post not so much for any updated translations, but because after casually skimming through this episode a while back, I noticed more animation errors, all card-related, that I'm now able to fix as I have for episodes since. You know the deal with this one, I'm sure; new kid on the block bumps into the Game King himself as he runs late for his Academia exam and manages to hit one of the school's best with his skills--literally. Fun opening episode to a fun series.

With this, I'm hoping to officially call this episode finalized for good, mainly because the kind of annoying thing about doing further revisions now is that, thanks to my solid-state drive (SSD) failing in October of 2022, I lost my personal copies of the episode scripts with the ATK/DEF counters I stylize and all, so it means I have to cut/stitch together different parts of the episode between the fixes I applied and the previous hardsub to account for the stat-counter subs or the eyecatch subs I started doing--since the softsub MKVs I release don't have those specific subs, they're easier to update. So I hopefully shouldn't be touching anything before episode 84 (the first one I finalized after getting a new drive) again and those can ideally be considered finalized for good. I'm hoping I can also give that title to 84-109 (where I currently am), but I'd like to think I didn't miss anything, lol.

Anyway, as mentioned, this revision applies several card-related fixes to the episode, some of which replicate fixes 4Kids did for the dub that I took a cue from. The fixes were added to the last DVDRip I released, subsequently made into a new softsub MKV, both of which will be up on NAC soon with the updated hardsub. List below the cut below as always, for the interested~ (Nice thing with some of these is that the frame rate was usually consistent, which meant that editing most panning shots and the occasional zoom shots were usually more of a breeze than later on, haha.)

Enjoy, folks; with this out of the way, since it's been about two weeks since 108 and 109 were finished up, I'll start setting up stuff for finalizing 110 while doing a little more TFSP work here/there before I fully start on 110 sometime next week. Stay tuned!

Fixes & Edits!

*The bolded edits below were applied back in 2021 and were added into the original release post; adding them here for completeness.

Applied a card back to an orange rectangle that was a face-down card during the panning shot of the Exam Duels going on over the episode’s opening narration as it fades to Chronos watching, repeating the edit as it pans back around again before fading to Manjoume and Ryou/Asuka watching.

As Misawa's exam proctor says that he stands no chance against his Super Defense Deck, the blank-art cards on his Disk for Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem the Moving Fortress are reversed (the wider side for the effect box should be on the right). Fixed by applying proxies on them for a frame in AfterEffects, masking in the card outlines for blending, before taking that frame into Sony Vegas and zooming it out for the zoom shot here.

As Misawa's Ring of Destruction destroys Vorse Raider, we see the smoke rush onto the proctor's side of the field--and as we do, we can quickly see the blank-art Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem cards on his Disk are again reversed before the smoke covers them. Fixed first in AfterEffects by slapping the proxies on for a frame, then in Vegas by taking that frame into and keyframing it to the rapid panning shot for most of its 17 frames. (Incidentally, throughout this scene, a different error happens in the dub, where aside from keeping the cards' orientation on the proctor's Disk incorrect, they also shuffle between Gear Golem and Big Shield Gardna being Normal or Effect Monsters--bit of an identity crisis!)

Fixed the error with Misawa’s LP dropping to zero after he uses Ring of Destruction to finish his Exam Duel; should have dropped to 1300.

After the proctor's LP drop to zero, he congratulates Misawa on his win, but the Gear Golem card on his Disk is reversed. Fixed first in AfterEffects by applying my proxy for a few frames, then taking one of those frames into Vegas to lightly keyframe as the shot pans left. (As a fun editing aside, I could tell 4Kids likely edited this in a similar way to how I did because as the cards fade out, you can briefly see some residue of Manjoume's hair outline on Big Shield Gardna's card which they didn't cover up; I definitely made sure I went the extra mile with redrawing the arena floor to cover that haha.)

After Misawa thanks the proctor, we zoom out to Manjoume in the stands as the Solid Vision fades out, but the cards under Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem are--you guessed it--reversed. Fixed in a few ways, with the goal being to redo Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem fading out--first, in Vegas, I took the first frame after they're gone and zoomed it into place at the start of the zoom, which let me cover up Gear Golem and most of Big Shield Guardna, but because Manjoume's hair moves upward as the shot zooms out, doing this means I couldn't fully cover it. So, I then took this first post-fadeout frame into Photoshop, where I used the Clone Tool to duplicate the arena floor and cover up the rest of Big Shield Guardna, reinserting it into Vegas and applying the zoom keyframes I did to the earlier frames to it--this lets my edited frame properly zoom out with the shot. Once done, I went into AfterEffects and applied the Big Shield and Gear Golem proxies onto the shot's first frame, masking them above the cards, then took that frame into Vegas to zoom out with the shot (rather easily, luckily, thanks to the frame rate note I mentioned up top), masked out Big Shield and Gear Golem and made them fade out into the edited frame in the layer below. With that set, all I had left was to go back and mask Manjoume's hair back above the edits for the duration of the fade, which was pretty easy, and boom goes the dynamite.

After Judai's duel with Chronos starts, he summons out Elemental Hero Featherman, but the card gets placed reversed on his Disk. Fixed in AfterEffects by applying a proxy first to one frame during the initial light zoom-out in the shot, taking the fixed frame into Vegas to re-zoom and hold once the zoom was over.

Chronos reacts to Featherman's summon, and as Featherman lands in front of Judai, his card on his Disk is reversed again, but also as the screen pans right, for a few frames as Judai moves to then place a card face-down, the shadow under his left leg goes from being more gray to black, turning back to gray once he stops moving. Fixed in AfterEffects first by placing a correctly facing proxy on his Disk for a frame, which I then took into Vegas and re-panned into the shot; while in Vegas, I then masked in the gray leg shadow over the black, masking in part of Featherman's ATK/DEF counter over the edit to blend it in.

In the next shot, as Judai ends his turn and their LP counters pop up, the Featherman card under him on the field is reversed; fixed in AfterEffects by slapping in a proxy, masking Featherman back in above it.

[cont below]

(10) After Chronos uses Confiscation, as he sends Judai's Revival of the Dead/Monster Reborn to his Cemetery, a few things happen: 1) the Featherman card on his field under him on the field is facing Chronos in Attack Mode, and 2) it's in the wrong Zone on Judai's Disk, as it should be in Monster Zone 3. I fixed this a few ways, first fixing the Featherman-on-field aspect in AfterEffects, applying a Defense-Mode proxy under Featherman and masking him and Judai back over it; I then took a cue from 4Kids and took the frame immediately after his Cemetery stops being lit up (but before Judai starts to move) and the frames as Judai moves into Photoshop, where I copied the empty Zone 1 into place over Zone 2, blending it in with some minor editing, and combined it with the AfterEffects edit I then did by applying a Featherman proxy in Defense Mode to Zone 3. After throwing everything into Vegas, I then applied some masking to a solid-white color layer to replicate the lights coming from Judai's Cemetery slot (helped by the fact that, luckily, the lights don't move). (The dub, for their part, only handled the Disk aspect, applying a weird light to cover up their Zone 2 edit while the Graveyard was lit up, leaving the Featherman card on the field as it originally was, OCG format and all lol.)

(11) Chronos activating Heavy Storm causes a huge storm of wind on the field, and as it gets to Judai's field, we see that the Defense-Mode Featherman card on the field under Featherman is reversed. Fixed first in AfterEffects, applying a proxy in a frame where most of the card was visible and masking Featherman back above it, then taking that frame into Vegas where I first redid the panning that happens, then I created a solid-color layer colored like the wind and applied some masking to replicate the gusts of wind that blow over the card.

(12) After Chronos summons his Wicked Lord Tokens and the crowd reacts, the smoke on the field from their summon simmers down, but the Featherman card under Featherman is reversed again. Fixed in AfterEffects by applying a correctly facing proxy and then masking Featherman back on top.

(13) After the commercial break, fixed the error with a Ra Yellow student’s miscolored jacket as he and the others watch Antique Gear Golem being summoned, thanks to thepalebride’s help.

(14) After crowd reaction to Antique Gear Golem being summoned, Asuka looks out onto the field and says she unfortunately heard the sound of the Academia's gates closing shut for Judai--as she does, we see that the blank-art card under Featherman is reversed. Fixed first in AfterEffects by applying a proxy under him in the first frame of the shot and masking him back on top, then taking that frame into Vegas where I re-panned it as the shot pans upward.

(15) After a brief blush, Judai summons out Winged Kuriboh, but he places it reversed on his Disk--and in the very next shot, it's correctly facing such that its name box is to our left. Fixed in AfterEffects by applying a proxy as he places it on his Disk, masking his fingers over it.

(16) After Antique Gear Golem destroys Winged Kuriboh and Judai tells Chronos that it reduces his damage to zero--to Asuka's shock--Judai takes Winged Kuriboh off his Disk and places it in his Cemetery slot in a quick shot, but the card is reversed again. Also fixed by 4Kids, I fixed this in AfterEffects by applying a proxy facing correctly in the frames in which Judai moves it.

(17) After summoning Flame Wingman, and after some taunting from Chronos, Judai activates an arena as heroic as he is in Skyscraper, but as he does so, Flame Wingman is missing from his Disk, as it should be in Zone 3. Fixed first in AfterEffects by applying a proxy (after finding the best-quality screenshot of Wingman's anime art and touching it up using an AI tool [I think I settled on Waifu]), fading it in as the scene fades from the Judai closeup to Judai about to swing his Disk around, and adding it as he does so, then applying a brightening and dimming as the Solid Vision lights go on around him. Once I did that, I went into Vegas and applied some masking on the little flickers that pop up over that zone to blend the edit in. (Side-Note: while dubifying the Skyscraper card in Judai's hand, 4Kids forgot to mask in his thumb over it, begging the question... how is Jaden holding that?)

(18) Fixed the blank Normal Monster card that should be Flame Wingman, both as Antique Gear Golem crashes onto Chronos and as the duel fades to an end.

[indierpgnewsletter]

✨, 🌱, 💡?

✨ A game I wish more people were talking about

There aren't many indie games that are talked about enough as far as I concerned. So many great games have come out recently that deserve way more discussion and praise: Pasion de la Pasiones by Brandon Leon-Gambetta and Swords without Master by Epidiah Ravachol are at the top of my list.

Pasion de la Pasiones is a masterclass of PbtA design - in many ways, a true inheritor of Apocalypse World's inter-personal playstyle. A playbook like El Jefe (which I'm playing in a game right now) is such a beautiful piece of design. Another designer would have made that character the GM's responsibility, to be played as the villain. Like the hardholder in AW, Brandon Leon-Gambetta trusts the players to take on the roles required to play a cheesy, melodramatic telenovela. At the same time, it's not just up to the players - through excellent move design, it's easy to be an awesome player. Also by empowering players, Pasion de la Pasiones is designed to be fun for the GM as well. It serves up exactly what I cherish most - the ability for players to drive play. I know lots of folks might see the cover and think it's just not for them but I encourage them to give it a try and see the fun on offer.

Swords without Master is amazing for the same reasons. It's a game with a GM that completely trusts the players to make their own fun - to come up with fun questions and fun answers. For those who don't know, it's a sword and sorcery RPG that has a bunch of unique things - dice that decide tone, a motif mechanic, phases that feel like they swap between GMless and GM'd. It also represents that rare thing. Like PbtA, it's basically a whole new type of game, designed from the ground up. It hasn't been as influential but it could have been!

🌱 An unreleased/not-yet-crowdfunding game I’m looking forward to

Oh, man, okay, I've got a couple for this:

Bloodclotte by Nick Duff: This is a hard game to describe but here's my best shot: You play doctors in a steampunk hospital dealing with the weirdest, most bizarre patients that you can conceive. It's less medical drama and more war comedy, a genre that is so rare that the only good example I know is the iconic 70s show, M*A*S*H. It's really good and I'm writing a playbook for it based on Ayurveda. There's a quick start available and I played a super fun playtest campaign of it. Recommended!

Da Xia by Tan Shao Han: Tan Shao Han is a Singaporean designer who is also a writer on Bloodclotte, like me. This game of his (which I have only heard the most delicious whispers about) is a Forged in the Dark game where you play Chinese folk heroes in Singapore during WW2 when it was under Japaneese occupation. I love the concept - it sounds challenging and ambitious work for a designer as well as a unique experience for players. Super excited to get my hands on a playtest draft.

💡 A game that inspired my own design or creative practice

I'm working on a series of card-based games I'm calling the Cardsharp Sonata. The first one is out and it's a sci-fi horror game called This Ship Is No Mother. The entire series is based on the wonderful, insightful Forged in the Dark game Crash//Cart by Galen Pejeau. Crash//Cart is one of the first games I ever wrote about the newsletter after a smash-hit of a one shot. It's about EMTs going out to save people and take them to hospitals in a nightmarish cyberpunk world. It's fast, fun and Galen's sharp design logic really inspired me to make more games.

[knitnightstudio]

Ed's emerald ring, a love story

2x8, heading into the final stretch!

We get two long and lingering shots of the emerald. But first we get almost nothing.

We see it for a moment as Ed looks at a fish scale

And when he's driving the fishermen bananas

And for the briefest of moments when he's rowing

and when he's killing the first englishmen

But all of these shots are "pause or you will miss them" shots like in episodes 1 and 2.

The real reveal doesn't happen until here

Ed and Stede reunite and the kissing and the carassing and the lingering eye contact are the real stars, but just below that is the emerald ring.

And that emerald shines, all over Stede's face, neck, and chest. Stede is here, Ed is here, they love each other and that friggin emerald knows it. Ed is going to touch every inch of that man and show off his emerald while he does it. There is not a movement in this scene where Ed is going to let us forget what that ring means.

It is bright day light, people are all over the place. kissing in the moonlight and in the dark cabin (is still amazing) can't hold a candle to this love in the broad daylight.

After this (go watch the kiss a few dozen more times, it's good for you) we see the emerald in virtually every scene, and Ed and Stede are touching in virtually every scene.

We get a pretty good shot of the ring when Ed, Stede and Zhang are talking. This photo is also the cover art for a pirate university, happy students on the quad!

Later Ed covers his left hand and the ring when he calls Stede's plan a suicide mission. Not gonna let the ring peak out for that one.

The next and biggest close up of the ring is when Izzy is dying and Ed thrusts his hand forward. He's losing his family, but Izzy reminds him that he is surrounded by family. Stede is his family and the ring is there, in the closest image we have had of it yet. Ed needs Stede now more then ever, and Stede is there for him. He has Stede.

This is also the first time we get a VERY clear, direct, and lingering shot of the ring in front of the crew. Yes he wore it at Jackie's the night before, but the bar was dark and we didn't see a shot with the crew AND the ring together, just a general vibe of openness. Now here it is, The ring, the crew, Stede, Ed's family. All together for the first time in 1 shot. This is real love. This is happening.

We only see the ring one more time, at Izzy's funeral, but it's noticible that this is yet another group scene with the crew where the ring is clearly visible.

We don't see the ring clearly again, but we do get some wedding vows, seems Ed and Stede have already fulfilled them...

Do you vow to protect and, if necessary, kill... for each other?

Do you vow to avenge the other in the event of your grisly death or dismemberment?

Do you vow to keep each other's ship afloat?

And that's the love story folks. David Jenkins has given us so much. Not only do we see Ed and Stede's love through their actions, but Jenkins also gave us the ability to follow the same love story by *only* listening to the music for each episode and by only watching the ring shrink and grow over the season.

I'm absolutely flabbergasted by the amount of love and creativity and time Jenkins and the team put into this show. And with a 40% smaller budget then they had for season 1.

I know some fans are upset about some big points, and some are upset by some small points, but look at what this team gave us.

They were told to take half of what they needed and to go make some tv.

Instead they took that money and crafted the most insightful, love filled, detailed oriented, love letter that I have ever seen. Not 1 second of this season was without purpose. Regardless if you liked the outcome or not, not a second was wasted.

There have been amazing posts about the way the team used lighting, music, and a host of other things to imbue this season with meaning. I strongly urge you to delve into all of them, because if you think this emerald thing was meaningful, wait until someone who knows what they are talking about explores all the music.

This is a love story, a queer love story, that you can see and hear and nearly touch. David Fucking Jenkins, if you are not given 200% of your budget for season 3 a travesty has occured.

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

Original Fiction

Wildflowers of Deliverance (three-part series)

Red, like my bleeding heart in your hand - 25k (complete--editing) novella prequel (the childhood years) - Follow Nash, his sister Jo, and his best friend Teddy in Deliverance, TN as they take on bullies and grow together, only to be ripped apart before they reach their potential

Blue, like don't forget about me - 60k (complete--editing) queer romance - Twenty years after Nash and Teddy lost touch, they reunite at a funeral and find all of the too-big feelings from childhood are still there, bubbling under the surface

Violet, like these delights - 50k~ (outlining) sequel to Blue - Jo's POV, coming of age in your 30's - Jo gets the freedom she thought she always wanted and finds, it kind of sucks actually

Woolen Hollow - Drafting Percolating - fantasy, magic systems, found family, accidental chosen one; a story about choice, family, and that weird forest kingdom girl who's obsessed with fortune tellers

Hot Air Balloon Town (working title - percolating) - In a small town famous for their hot air balloon museum and annual festival, a young woman decides she's going to break the world record for highest altitude in an open basket. However, the ghost in town is complicating things.

FanFiction

Spideypool (Peter Parker/Wade Wilson)

Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) -- slowburn soulmates au where friendship is magic (or the one where Peter and Wade are literal soulmates but don't realize it for literal years because they're literal idiots)

The Little Barnacle -- Peter panics and botches Wade's proposal by proposing first like the babbling disaster man he is. He also turned out hella aro and this was his choice.

GwenMJ (Gwen Stacy/Michelle Jones)

michelle.mp3 -- Michelle breaks up with Peter and retreats to her grandma's house in the country to lick her wounds and meets Gwen, her insufferable neighbor who also happens to be the drummer and songwriter who upended her perfectly adequate life and is apparently back for more.

Parkner (Peter Parker/Harley Keener)

*deep breath*

Freak Out 'Verse -- It starts with a kidnapping, evolves through a summer romance, and ends with a portal to another dimension, team dynamics, and... shit tits? am i reading this right? ...really? Yeah folks it says shit tits what the fuck

Peaches 'Verse -- It starts with Abbie and Harley. It starts with leaving. It ends with Abbie and Harley and Peter and May. It ends with a room and choosing to stay.

The Distance Between (You and Me) -- Harley struggles to get a grip on his PTSD while his kidnappers are still out there, the board of directors at Stark Industries are looking for any excuse to deny him his future right to inherit the company, and his "bodyguard" drives him up the fucking wall.

For the First Time, Eye to Eye -- Peter and Harley have a lot of shit to work through and Harley's family reunion (while they pretend to be boyfriends of five years rather than workplace rivals), is not the time or place. And yet...

Lemon Boy -- Post-Endgame (sorry) Harley takes in Peter as a roommate to help with expenses while he remodels his deceased uncle's house. Both grieving in their own way, they eventually learn to see the other clearly--through the mask and despite the barriers.

Parkner One-Shots

Heart (in hand) Home (in you) - 2.5k - Harley-centric sick fic

An Insignificant Problem - 1.2k - De-aged!Peter; Fed-up!Harley

Wouldn't Dream of It - 2.3k - Harley-centric alien goo induced trip down memory lane

The Human Kind - 3.7k - Spidey and Laddie play hide and seek :) (mind the tags!)

Undercover? I thought you said under covers... - 3.7k - what it says on the tin ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Peter, no - 3.4k - Peter is an awful outdoorsman. Harley is in love with him.

Rhythm and Blues - 1.3k - Flash POV! He's stuck late at school and sees something he isn't supposed to.

No Need to Rush - 5.3k - It's simple: Harley loves Peter. Yet complicated: Peter loves Harley.

Second Chances for Second Guessers - 3.7k - Peter is a flighty little whimp afraid of falling in love

Pete, I'm Fake Drunk and Wanna Go Home - 2.9k - Peter needs a night off and Harley has a fool-proof plan to make him take one

The Devil is a Hopeless Romantic - 2k - tried to write angst. it's only okay

Completely and utterly devoid of sex appeal - 1.7k - Peter has the hots for Harley when he wears a certain outfit. Unfortunately it's his work uniform. And they work together.

Fake Romance Crap - 3.4k - sure he fake married me an hour ago, but do you think he likes me?

Apeshit - 2.1k - A Freak Out 'Verse one-shot written for the prompt: You know what, maybe they ARE tired of being nice. Maybe they DO wanna go apeshit.

adventures with hair dye and feelings — In Space! - 8.7k - 5 times Harley and Peter don’t kiss +1 time they do (in space!) Written for the combined prompts: 8) every single kiss so far has been a disaster but it's really funny and 46) don't have a one night stand with your coworker on the spaceship

Put in the Work - 54.7k - Rated M - fka the nasa au, now with minimal nasa (sorry). Harley built his whole life around two things: his daughter and his career at NASA. It's nothing but bad luck that he's laid off at the same time Hazel is pushing for independence. To cope, he falls back on his usual stress-relief, hotel sex with a hot stranger, but bad luck arrives in threes and it's definitely bad luck to fall in love with your one-night stand. If only he had a friend to vent to other than his sister, his daughter, and his strange quasi-friendship with Spider-Man via twitter…

Come on, take a joyride - 6.8k - 5 times Harley takes Peter for a ride +1 time Peter takes Harley

Free Pass - 9k - Rated E - a smutty New Year's Eve one-shot that got plot in it somehow...

another time, a difference place (I have loved you before) - ??? - In-progress (I'm posting as I go for once) - Endgame parkner fix it fic. Peter and Harley were together inside the soul stone. Unfortunately, neither of them remember anything and these frequent bouts of deja vu are getting weird.

Coming Up...

Baseball Smut - Rated E - parkner one-shot. Baseball uniforms are sexy, okay?

Your Mom Freaked Out - ??? - An addition to the Freak Out 'Verse that occurs sometime before the final scene of You're Freaking Out's epilogue. Harley gets blasted with temporal rays when Peter and Tony's time machine experiment goes wrong. It's just his luck that he wakes up handcuffed with Officer Benjamin Parker sitting at his bed side...

Not Spider-Man 4: Bring it on Home (working title) - ??? (LONG) - Gen fic (no romantic parkner), Harley-centric, trans ftm!Harley, canon compliant, post NWH - Harley built his own Iron Man armor and he uses it Robin Hood style to keep Rose Hill from blinking out on the map. Abbie thought she was helping by sneaking off to meet with reporter Betty Brandt and her photographer, Peter Parker, to shed some light on the dire situation in small towns like Rose Hill post-blip and the extremes people like her brother go to to keep people fed and healthy. But getting kidnapped is rarely considered helpful.

Spider-Man 4: Bring it on Home - ??? - Peter/Michelle - Sequel to Not SM4: BioH - Michelle POV (maybe with some Peter POV too--i'll decide when I actually get to writing it hah) -- Inspired by the events of Not SM4, Peter sets out to Boston get his friends back. Meanwhile, Michelle is trying to solve the mystery of why she and Ned have gaping holes in their memories. Ned has it worse than she does and has the therapy and medical bills to prove it, which is all the more reason for her to get to the bottom of this before his episodes get any worse. She's positive she could have solved it by now if not for the universe throwing constant distractions in her face--like the cute guy that recently started frequenting the shop where she works. And what the hell is Spider-Man doing outside of New York. One mystery at a time, Em. You'll figure it out. You always do.

We Were Gods (we were kids) - 100k~ - parkner childhood friends to estranged almost lovers to superheroes fighting on opposite sides to reluctant allies to lovers (this is the OG OG Blue like don't forget about me, back to its roots)

[anxious-witch]

Inertia 5

Summary: Newton's first law expresses the principle of inertia: the natural behavior of a body is to move in a straight line at constant speed. In the absence of outside influences, a body's motion preserves the status quo.

Jan choose a direction of his life the moment he walked out of his parents house and cut all contact with them. He didn't want anything to do with them, or God anymore. Even his soulmark he wished he could leave behind. But when Nace Jordan joins the band, with a mark matching his own, can Jan keep going the same way he did? Or will the force make him change a direction?

Pairings: Jan Peteh/Nace Jordan

Warnings: Warnings for mentions of alcohol and drinking, talk about religion, religious trauma mentioned(as in every chapter let's be real), character hinting at past religious trauma and homophobia, crying, character having a panic attack near the end

If I forgot something, feel free to tell me as always

Notes: AO3 link

This one is rough again folks, make sure to check the warnings. But that said, there is finally a reveal so! Buckle up, we are in for emotional damage

My rot is as hungry as me. & when God asks me about love, I always respond with cruelty.

Yves Olade, from Beloved

They were in the tram, the first time Jan noticed it. They passed the church on their way and Nace crossed himself, almost absent mindedly. Jan immediately felt his jaw clench.

The knowledge that Jure gave him sat heavily in Jan's stomach. Nothing changed about Nace's behavior, except the way Jan viewed him.

Once he noticed, he couldn’t stop looking for it. Jure would get a call from Nika and talk to her with a soft smile on his face and Nace got this faraway, wistful look. Guilt churred in Jan’s stomach, but the knowledge weighted him down. Made his jaw lock up. If he told him, Nace would surely expect them to act like most soulmates do. Jan just couldn't do it.

So, he didn't say anything of the sort. They made small talk a couple of times, but nothing more. Jan figured that was for the best.

Until one of their gigs.

They tried not to put too many gigs before the competition, but they still had to do them. And with gigs often came alcohol.

Now, Jan wasn't blackout drunk. He never was when he had to preform. Adrenaline and post gig high did its thing, though.

Especially because Bojan kept buying them new rounds-well, other than Nace and Kris who decided not to drink for the night.

"Does alcohol have gluten?" Jan asked at one point, knocking his shoulder with Nace's.

He overestimated the amount of force necessary for it, making them both stumble. Nace grabbed the table and then caught and steadied him so he wouldn't topple over.

Perhaps he has one shot too many.

"Not usually, no. I just don't take alcohol well."

Jan looked up to him and-fuck. When did they get so close? His brain was fuzzy. Nace was close enough for Jan to smell his cologne. It smelled of orange, cinnamon and cloves. There was also a sharper undertone. Something alcoholic? Jan couldn't quite tell.

"Jan?" Nace asked, his brow furrowing.

Shit. How long was he staring? He blinked, trying to clear his head.

"Don't take it well?"

Nace sighed. He opened his mouth when there was a loud sound of glass breaking. They both turned to look and saw that one of the glasses broke, spilling all over the table.

Jure and Bojan exchanged a glance and burst out laughing. Kris sighed.

"Perhaps it's time to go home," he said sharply.

Jan could safely assume that either the drink was his, or it partially spilled on him, judging by his sour expression. Jan felt bad for him, but he couldn't help but chuckle a bit at that, too.

Bojan and Jure left unattended, especially with alcohol, never meant anything good.

"I can take Jure and Jan. They live close to each other anyway. You can drive Bojan."

Kris shot Nace a grateful look. He definitely looked ready to go home as soon as possible, while Jan and Jure both lived further away.

Jan watched in amusement as Kris and Nace tried to separate Bojan and Jure who kept making faces and giggling at each other.

Cold evening air sobered him up a bit as they walked towards the car. Nace helped still giggling Jure to even walk without falling down.

Jan took a moment to appreciate how soft Nace looked under the soft light of the nearby lamps. He wore a warm, brown sweater and black pants. His eyes were crinkled at the corners as he smiled at something Jure said.

He reminded Jan of a bulb of warm light in the dark.

Finally, they got to the car and Nace helped Jure get in the backseat. He'd doze off in a minute, as he often did after drinking this much. Jan took the shotgun.

Only when Nace turned on the heating did Jan realize how cold it was outside. He shivered.

"Are you cold? I can give you my scarf."

Jan shook his head, but he shivered again, so Nace sighed and wrapped his scarf around him anyway. It was soft and warm. It smelled of Nace's cologne. It seemed to be rust colored. Not quite red, but not quite brown, either. Warm, like Nace.

Nace started the car and Jan sneaked a glance to the backseat. Jure was already asleep, leaning against a window. He was such a cat, able to fall asleep anywhere.

"Nace? Can I ask you something?"

Nace sighed. He didn't take his eyes away from the road.

"I have a feeling you will regardless, so. Go ahead."

"Do you not drink alcohol for the same reason you don't eat snacks with us?"

Nace looked genuinely confused at the question.

"Which would be?"

"Calories."

If he were sober, Jan would try and package it a bit better. Lead into it, maybe get Nace to admit it himself. But he wasn't. And he had never been good at being mindful and careful.

Nace paled a bit and Jan saw the way his fingers twitched on the wheel. Then he slowly relaxed them.

"I see you've done your research."

Jan shrugged. There was no use denying it.

"I did. But that doesn't answer my question."

Nace's hands tightened on the wheel. He still stubbornly kept his eyes on the road, not even glancing in Jan's direction.

"No. I don't drink alcohol because the last time I did, I started stripping in front of my ex's new boyfriend. Does that answer your question?"

Jan blinked, taking in that information. That was...unexpected. He really thought he figured him out. Then again, just because it wasn't tied to the alcohol, didn't mean Nace wasn't insecure.

"It does. Did you have sex with me because you are insecure and think someone being mean to you is fine as long as they find you attractive?"

"What?!"

Jure stirred in the backseat and they both feel silent. When he didn't awaken fully, Nace took in a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was quieter.

"How the fuck did you come to that conclusion?"

Jan inclined his head to the side. Nace's eyes were narrowed, and there was slight flush to his cheeks. Was he angry? Jan knew it was slightly insensitive to ask, but really?

"Why else would you? I mean, yeah, I'm attractive but you could have picked a random attractive guy at the club. Or hell, Kris or Jure, if it's a musician thing. Everyone else was nice to you."

Nace stopped at the red light and too that time to rub at his forehead.

"I don't even know how to begin unpacking all that."

Jan impatiently drummed his fingers against the car seat.

"Is that a yes?"

"No! Jesus Christ Jan, I may have issues, but I don't have that many issues."

Jan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. That made no sense. Why else would he do it?

"But then why-"

"Listen. How about we continue this conversation when you are sober?"

Jan scowled and turned to look out of the window. He wasn't sure why it bothered him, exactly. He just wanted to know. If he understood Nace better, maybe the morbid curiosity he had would go away.

"Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"I don't...know. I guess I am just trying to figure you out."

Nace's brows furrowed, and he seemingly had nothing to say to that. He drove in silence while Jan mulled their conversation over.

"Why do you believe in God?"

Nacesighed.

"No. I’m sorry, but I am not having this conversation with you right now. You are drunk and this is a complex topic. We can come back to it when you are sober."

Jan didn't pout. He just made an extremely disappointed face. Then he noticed how close they were to his apartment and went to grab his bag.

Except if wasn't there. Jan looked at the seat, where only his phone laid and tried to remember where he left his bag. Was it at the club?

No. Kris would have picked it up after him. That sparked a memory. It was in Kris' car. Jan told him he put enough money in his phone case and that he'd be the one to drive him home anyway.

He never expected he'd end up in Nace's car. Without his keys.

"Fuck. I left my bag in Kris' car."

He tried to think. If he called Kris, maybe he was still awake. Jan could order an Uber there and back. As much as he wanted to collapse from exhaustion, he saw no other option.

"You can just drop me off here. I can order a taxi back to Kris' place. Let's hope he is still awake."

Nace shook his head.

"Don't be ridiculous. I live five minutes away from Kris. And if he isn't awake, you can sleep over at my place and pick up your bag from him in the morning."

Jan stared at him. His thoughts came to a halt. Here Nace was, being kind again. Jan wanted to shake him until he stopped being so goddamn nice.

"You are seriously going to offer me to sleep over?"

Nace shrugged, making a turn towards Jure's place. Like they already decided on his plan.

"I mean, we are bandmates. I'd say we could even say we are friends, if we were being generous and considered your interrogation an attempt in getting to know me."

Jan narrowed his eyes. He had no good reply to that. Except maybe...

"Is it like, a Christian thing? To be kind to everyone?"

Nace groaned, his face twisting in a grimace.

"You are not going to let this go, are you?"

It was always hard to let things go. Especially things he was curious about. And a part of him wanted a real reason to dislike Nace. To dislike his seemingly endless patience and kindness.

No one was that kind and patient for no reason.

"I mean, maybe partially it is? But I think being kind is a given. I think we are all given initial goodness when we are born. It’s our decision on whenever we are gonna keep it or not. Why wouldn't I be kind, if I can be? Who does it help if I am cruel?"

"It keeps you safe," Jan said, so quietly he wasn't sure Nace heard him at all.

He didn't say anything back until he parked the car and then turned towards Jan. His eyes stated directly into his soul and for one brief moment, Jan thought he had given himself away.

"Does it keep you safe?"

Jan's body felt like lead all of a sudden. He was pinned under Nace's gaze and unable to look away. He tried to swallow, to find words in his too-dry mouth, but there was nothing.

"Does it keep you safe?" Kris asked him once, as he lightly touched the crucifix around his neck. Jan remembered being equally startled at the question as he was now.

"The best it can," he said, echoing his previous answer.

They stared at one another for another long moment. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Nace's hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and touch him.

There was a groan from the backseat and they both flinched. Jure blinked his eyes open and stretched, like a cat.

"Oh, are we here yet?"

Nace recovered first and smiled at Jure as if nothing happened.

"Yeah, I was just about to wake you."

Jan sat, feeling as if he was frozen still. His head was starting to pound and he could feel just how drunk he actually was. How unwise it was, talking to Nace on this state.

"Thank you for the ride Nace! Goodnight!"

Jure got up with strange precision. He didn't even seem to wobble as he made his way out of the car and towards his building. It occurred to Jan too late that he could have asked to sleep over at his apartment.

By that time, Jure was already inside the building, and Nace was starting the car again.

Jan grasped at something to say, but no words came. The silence was overbearing, weighting on Jan. With all the recent reminiscing, he didn't feel safe with his own thoughts. Not near Nace.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost replace the sound of silence in a car for silent prayers in a church, where it felt like everyone was barely breathing as they went over a prayer.

He shivered, even if it wasn't from the cold at all.As if he heard his thoughts, Nace finally spoke, breaking the silence.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Jan began peeling his nailpolish again. There were only a few spots left on his thumb. He'd need to repaint them tomorrow.

"Shoot, I guess.”

Nace drummed his fingers on the wheel. Was he hesitating? Or did he not expect Jan to actually agree?

"Why do you only pain nails on one hand?"

Jan blinked at him and then burst out laughing. It caused his head to pound even worse, but he didn't care. Out of everything he could ask, Nace asked that? He really was ridiculous.

"Wow. And here I expected something deep and profound," Jan said, wiping the corners of his eyes.

Nace rolled his eyes.

"That's for question two."

Jan rolled his shoulder, forcing them to relax. Kris always said he held too much tension in them. Like he had any room to talk.

"I bite my nails. Nail polish helps, but I am also awful at painting them with my left hand. So, I am saving the left one at least."

Nace hummed thoughtfully. Jan braced himself for another question.

"How do you feel about religion?"

He winced at the question, although he supposed he dug that grave for himself when he asked Nace about that just minutes ago.

Still, his answer came raw and unbidden and entirely too honest.

"I think it's bullshit. I think religion is a way to control people and make them think and behave in a way that benefits the church and people who are already what they consider 'exactly as they should be'. It's-horrifying, how they take people who are scared or loss or just vulnerable and use fear of eternal damnation to control them."

Nace was silent. Jan was fuming, years of swallowed rage suddenly bubbling up.

"I also hate the way they make them fear anything different. And if God forbid, you are different they make you scared if yourself. Of things you like, of things you want. So my opinion on religion is that it should be fucking banned."

He was breathing heavily, like he just ran a marathon. Too emotional, he criticized himself, you showed that you care too much.

"I'm sorry you had such an awful experience with religion."

Jan laughed bitterly.

"So you are saying there are different experiences? For people like me?"

A beat passed. Two beats. Then-

"People like us."

He bit his tongue. Surely not people like them, if Nace still followed the faith that hated them. Surely not people like them, when Nace still wanted to find his soulmate and tighten the final knot on Jan's noose.

"I understand where you are coming from with this. I really do. Many people do automatically reject anything that they found odd. We are all scared if the unknown and sometimes the church-and by extension religion, gives them a place to stay safe in. And people take that place and misuse it. You cannot stay safe all the time. You have to take a step into the unknown sometimes or you will never learn anything new."

Red light pained Nace's features in almost a menacing manner. Like he was a devil, tempting him to see things from his perspective.

Except instead of tempting him to sin, he was tempting him to reconsider things he made up his mind on years ago.

"So, what? I should just accept and obey a religion that hates me?"

Jan was biting nails of his right hand now. They were already way too short and it was likely he'd draw blood, but he didn't care.

"Of course not. But there are asshole people everywhere. Do you not watch sports because there are bigots? I am not saying you have to do anything, I am just saying you'd have to discard almost anything by that logic. I mean, personally, religion is more private for me, anyway. Sure, a mass in the church can be nice, but true prayer you do alone. Not because you are forced, but because you find comfort in it. That’s what it’s supposed to be like.”

It felt as if Nace hit him on the head with a hammer. Jan tasted copper as he bit of a part of his nail with too much force.

"That's not the same! And just because it works that way for you, doesn’t mean that’s how the overall system works!”

Nace shrugged.

"I never said it was. I am just trying to tell you that people can have different experiences. And how isn't it the same? No one can eternally damn you for liking men if you don't let them. You are the only one damning yourself."

Jan slapped his hands over his ear. His head hurt and he was shaking with anger and childlike helplessness. He didn't want to hear it.

"Shut up!"

He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't. Especially not in front of Nace. Especially not in front of goddamn soulmate he was cursed fo have.

He didn't realize Nace parked the car. Not until he touched him and Jan recoiled from him like from a live wire.

"Jan, I'm sorry, I was just trying to explain my perspective."

Jan shook his head, almost violently. He didn't want to listen anymore. He felt too warm. He pulled his hair up, trying to elevate some of the heat from his neck. He turned his face away as he felt the tears bubble up.

Nace's gasp brought him out of his haze. That and him lightly touching right behind his right ear. Exactly where his soulmark burned like a brand. Well it did, up until Nace touched it and then the burning stopped, as if soothed by his touch. Jan unconsciously leaned into the touch for a moment, until his brain registered what was happening.

He jerked away once again, his panicked eyes meeting Nace's shocked ones.

"Your mark. It matches-"

Jan did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed his phone, unbuckled his belt and made a run for it. He stumbled a bit, but blind panic and adrenaline kicked in.

He heard Nace calling his name but he didn't turn. He was close enough to Kris' building to know the way, even through the tears and the haze of alcohol.

His muscles burned and he was panting by the time he reached Kris' door. Then he rang the doorbell and insistently knocked.

It took about a minute before Kris opened the door, clearly half asleep and in his pajamas. As soon as he saw the state Jan was in, he went pale.

"Jan? What happened? Are you okay?"

Tears came unbidden then and he half stumbled into his best friend. Kris barely managed to hold him upright and close the door behind them.

"I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, he knows. He knows, Kris. I need to call Matej to remove the soulmark as soon as possible. I need to-"

"Hey, hey, hey. Breathe. I got you."

Jan sobbed into his chest. He wasn't sure when was the last time he cried in front of someone like this. He cried for all the times he didn't. He cried for his younger self and the unfairness of fate.

Maybe if he and Nace met earlier, they could have stood a chance. Before Jan became the way he was. While he could still return Nace's feelings.

Kris managed to maneuver them to the living room and sat them both down on the couch. He didn't even complain about Jan not taking his shoes off. He just held him tightly until Jan's tears stopped.

God, was his head pounding. He felt thirsty, too. But too tired to get up.

"I'll get you some water."

How did Kris always manage to know what Jan needed? How did he keep saving him, over and over?

Kris handed him the glass of water and didn't say anything until he stopped drinking. Only when Jan put the empty glass on the table did he speak.

"What was that about Matej and removing your soulmark?"

Jan was so tired. Too tired to lie, or brush him off. Truth spilled from his lips easily.

"He knows someone who got their soulmark removed. And with that the connection. I asked him to do it, but he said I have to wait six months. But now, surely he'll realize I have to do it sooner. Now that Nace knows I-I can't."

Kris took in a sharp breath. His face had gone pale and he stared at Jan with an almost betrayed expression.

"You-you can't. Jan that's not something you can decide on your own! Nace will be affected too!"

For the second time that night, Jan covered his ears.

"I don't care, I don't care, stop it! Can everyone just fucking stop?!"

His friend stared at him in shock. Jan tried to recall if he ever had such a breakdown. The closest must have been after he cut contact with his family. And even then, it was simply a few controlled tears.

This wasn't controlled in any way. Jan felt so far away from any sort of sense and control it scared him, but he just couldn't stop it.

Kris hugged him again, and it felt almost as if he was trying to protect him. To shield him from his own pain.

"I kept hearing the church bells when I couldn't sleep. Like they were taunting me. And my father keeps trying to send me messages and I-I feel like I am going mad, Kris. I tried to be his friend but I can't be anything else."

Kris' hands tightened against him. He slowly breathed out.

“Let’s leave this discussion for tomorrow, okay? Just…breathe. Try to fall asleep. I got you.”

Jan was tired. And with how warm he suddenly was, he felt almost drowsy. Kris slowly pulled away and then unlaced his boots. Then once he removed them, he pushed Jan to lie down and covered him with a blanket.

It was far from the first time Jan slept on Kris couch, so he let himself sink into the familiar cushion. Kris rummaged around a bit, but Jan closed his eyes, uncaring about what exactly he did.

Only when the lights turned off and he left him alone did Jan began to drift to sleep. At the back of his mind, something was nagging him. Like there was an unfamiliar scent among all the familiar ones.

It wouldn't be until the morning that he noticed Nace's scarf still wrapped around his neck.

[feraltuxedo]

Fic Recs: Musician Crowley AU

Give Crowley an instrument and he'll have my heart. There are so many excellent AUs with that trope, and a whole lot of them are still on my marked-for-later, to be savoured like a good piece of music. I love all flavours of Crowley's musicianship - whether he's a rock star or a violin virtuoso. Somehow, it just makes sense.

Anyway, here are some of my favourites.

Reunion by snae_b Rating: E Words: 22920 Summary: Aziraphale runs into an ex that he's never quite fallen out of love with.

We don't see Crowley actually making a lot of music in this story, but it hardly matters, because what we get instead is a rock star catching up with his bookshop-owner ex after a decade apart. And they do a lot of catching up. In the bookshop. Above the bookshop. In Crowley's hotel room. I love the chemistry between the two characters in this one, the bittersweet romance of reconnecting after so long. But it's also incredibly funny and steaming hot.

Bi M' Aingeal (Be My Angel) by IneffableToreshi Rating: T Words: 4905 Summary: Crowley has a crush on the beautiful man who comes to see him play and sing every Friday night. On this particular night, for the Valentine's Day celebrations, the guitarist decides to try out a special song that he wrote himself...

Such a sweet meet-cute set during a folk night at a pub. Crowley as a Gaelic-speaking folk singer and Aziraphale as an adoring audience member. All fluff and tenderness and a wonderful use of song to communicate feelings. There's a wonderful atmosphere to this and it's all due to the unique setting.

The Piano Serpent by journeytogallifrey Rating: T Words: 3893 Summary: Aziraphale owns The Flaming Sword, which is one of the premier gay bars in London. Everyone knows this... except for their pianist, Crowley. While the regulars take bets over whether he's the clueless straight person he seems, Aziraphale just tries to prevent himself from falling further. But one night Crowley plays a song written specially to honor their regulars, and Aziraphale can't hold the truth in any longer. How will Crowley react? Will the truth really set them free? Based on the post where Billy Joel's The Piano Man is really about a clueless straight pianist in a gay bar. Or in our case, 'straight'.

Surprisingly tender for what's really quite a silly premise . This is an ensemble piece set at a gay bar, and in the course of this one-shot, we get to know all the regulars. Their fun speculation about just how clueless Crowley the pianist is is combined with loving notes on their own backstories. And in the middle of it there's Aziraphale serving drinks, and Crowley playing his songs.

Or Be Nice by charlottemadison Rating: E Words: 151366 Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbours. And...it does not go at all well, until it does. A human AU in which Aziraphale is a bookseller, Crowley is a drummer, and they are both petty disasters in the worst/best way.

“So what’s your deal?” “My-my-my deal?” Aziraphale stammered. “I’m a bookseller, is my deal.” “Oh,” Crowley replied, sounding as uninterested as it was possible to sound. “It’s just, I couldn’t help overhearing, and --” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “You really are an accomplished musician. But I thought -- for after 11PM -- perhaps we could reach some arrangement?” “Arrangement?” Aziraphale felt his his smile turning forced. “Such as, perhaps, playing the drums *before* eleven? Instead of after?” Crowley stared blankly at him. In fact he stared for so long that Aziraphale briefly wondered if he'd lapsed into ancient Greek again, which he was known to do in bad dreams or during panic attacks.

An absolutely epic tale of neighbourly disputes, featuring two supreme bastards trying to one-up each other while maybe accidentally falling in love. The back and forth is hilarious and drives the entire story. Crowley is a drummer and he loves to drum. When Aziraphale is asleep. I love how the drumset is weaponised here. But in the course of the story, classical-music lover Aziraphale learns to appreciate not just the drumming, but Crowley's musicianship in general.

The Greater Tadfield Friends Of Music Autumn Concert by CopperBeech Rating: E Words: 27878 Summary: Anthony Crowley, marketing consultant and competent amateur flautist, finds he can at least flee the smoke and congestion of London if not the golden handcuffs of his job. He’s got no personal life to leave behind; he likes things anonymous, and rough, and even a little dangerous, and far enough from home that he won’t have to deal with entanglements. So what’s he doing obsessing about a mannerly, daintily groomed, kindly man who he’s not even sure is gay? And how’s he going to cope with a hotbed of gossip, a lovelorn tubist serenading the witch next door, and an irascible music director with a Black Belt in baton-throwing?

I absolutely love a small-town setting and this story is such a fun and strangely nostalgic look at amateur musicmaking in that context. Crowley is a newcomer trying to find his place in an established society (both Tadfield and the orchestra) and Aziraphale is the privileged benefactor of the town. But there's a whole host of characters around them that gives this story so much flavour and makes it a real delight.

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

What I'm Watching: February 2024

How we doing, folks? Didn't do much between Sailor Moon and Cowboy Bebop, but I made the most of it.

Perfect Blue

JDJWIXBEYSIFNEHXOABSUD I LOVE THIS MOVIE SO MUCH! Psychological horror is my favorite kind, and questions of self, sanity, and perception can be so juicy. This movie made me so fucking uncomfortable the first time I watched it that I didn't think I'd be able to sit through it again, and now I love it even more every time. Even outside of the story, it's just an incredible piece of filmmaking. The transitions in the opening scene alone, shifting between Mima's different personas so seamlessly in motion but so jarringly in presentation, could be a short film on their own. But then the rest of the movie is like that. Reality and illusion weave together so tightly that I still can't fully pin down what's what (I think the key is somewhere in the overexposed vs the saturated shots, but I keep forgetting to pay attention to that to make sure). The soundtrack lends itself brilliantly to the uneasiness and anxiety, and even divorced from the context of the movie, I can't bring myself to listen to "Virtual Mima" all the way through. It's too effective. On the other hand, I also can't comfortably listen to "Angel Of Love," thanks to context, but it's a fun pop song if you've never seen the elevator scene. It's impossible to overstate how much heavy lifting the soundtrack is doing. The story itself is simple enough, a young woman having an identity crisis in the spotlight while a stalker targets the people around her, but the way it unfolds is such a mindfuck, it warrants rewatching (and rewatching and rewatching, etc). I've already mentioned the transitions in the opening, and that expands later on into flashbacks, dreams, scenes that seem to be real life but are later revealed as part of the crime drama Mima is filming. It makes it hard to predict what is really going on, right up until the moment before a thing happens and that one tiny clue makes everything else click into place. This is the kind of writing I aspire to. As if that's not enough, the themes of celebrity worship, obsession, exploitation in the entertainment industry, and mental illness, and this movie stays relevant. For all that it takes place during the shift from analog to digital and the early days of the internet, it feels eerily timeless. It's my go-to in conversation about movies: have you seen Perfect Blue?

Labyrinth

If I'd been obsessed with *this* Jim Henson movie instead of The Dark Crystal when I was younger, who knows how it might have changed me as a person. Meh, probably not that much, tbh, since I've always loved stories like this. Which leads me to one of my favorite themes in fiction that I don't really see discussed in regards to this: the stories we tell ourselves. In Sarah's case, her indecisiveness (does she want to be the hero or the villain, and consequently, who does she want Jareth to be?) and unwillingness to lead the story is, ironically, what drives the story. The story she tells herself just happens to her, and she's not responsible for any of it, and it's not fair. A childish mindset, of course, and naturally her arc concerns taking responsibility for herself and learning to balance it with a healthy relationship to fantasy. When put that way, it's even more obvious how important it is that she refuse Jareth and his offer, "Let me rule you, and you can have everything." Stay in this dream world and everything you could ever want or desire is yours forever? A tempting offer for anyone, and Sarah's decision is a.) What finally, truly assigns her the role of the hero, and b.) Pretty wise, considering she's only a teenager. That's all Jareth has to offer, is a dream, and in her own words, "it's all junk." And speaking of Jareth... It's probably for the best I didn't grow up with fear me, love me, etc in my system, because it's done enough of a number on me as it is. What else to say? He's David fricken Bowie, what more do you need to say? This also applies to the music, just so we're clear (and that goes double for "Chilly Down"). And for the rest, it's Jim fricken Henson!

Mrs Brown's Boys

And that's basically the series so far in a nutshell. It kinda reminds me of The Carol Burnett Show, if there were episodic plot lines instead of sketch comedy and they'd been allowed to swear. I think that's mostly to do with the fourth wall and/or character breaks throughout, the former of which happens frequently enough to be a running gag but not so often it becomes a gimmick, and the latter is always fun no matter what you're watching.

Wolf Creek 2

So, if you start playing franchise bingo with slasher movies, you notice the villains themselves fall into two categories: they either don't talk and they're boring/only there to be indestructible killing machines, or they do talk and they're the absolute worst/will kill you for sure but will have so much fun doing it. (This excludes Terrifier, which is an outlier adn should not be counted.) And you can guess which category Mick Taylor falls into. I posted a few thoughts while watching this one, and I think overall, I dig it. The flashier action bits are to be expected, given that sequels tend to take the bigger-is-better approach, but other than that? Consistent as hell from the first one. Tense, graphic, and mean-spirited, with gorgeous cinematography, protagonists you can root for, and a villain who is both just fucking AWFUL and charismatic enough to make you question your judgement. And apparently there's a series???

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Ok I'm taking you up on that offer-

Tim drives Curly and Angela to school right???? He also drives Sylvia bc she lives just down the block :)

So, like clockwork, the neighbourhood hears

“I called shot gun.”

“You don't even live here???”

“*chaos ensues*”

At 8:45 am

Asdfghjkl, guys I have emotions-

Tim answers the door, glaring down at the girl who’s standing on his front porch without a care in the world, backpack flung over one shoulder as she casually claims her seat in his car. Then, she has the audacity to walk straight past him, into his house, and starts rifling through his kitchen for something to eat

“She don’t even live here,” he mutters to himself. But Tim just shuts the door cause it’s too early and he knows he can never win an argument with her

When Angela comes out of her room and hears that Sylvia’s claimed shotgun, that’s the official beginning of the chaos. She’s screaming and shouting, complaining about how Tim won’t even let her ride shotgun and she’s the one who lives here!! Sylvia, being Sylvia, tosses back a few insults and jabs, still poking through the cabinets as if the Shepards somehow have more food lying around than her folks do

Curly wanders out, curls wild and ruffled from sleep and he barely blinks as he passes Sylvia to grab his backpack from his seat at the kitchen table, the girls still yelling and shrieking while Tim stands tiredly in the doorway, sighing to himself

All in all, Curly ends up taking shotgun. Tim’s done with the girls’ screaming and stuffs them in the back. Curly, despite being younger than Sylvia by a little over a year (she brought up as evidence to back up her argument on why she should get shotgun) ends up sitting happily in the front seat with his brother

[brineffxiv]

Interesting: she's got a superficial resemblance to the Minfilia we know, but even with the eyes and the hair she really does look quite different.

That's clearly a deliberate design choice, and I can only guess it's to drive home the fact that these are separate people. At this point I don't know anything about this Minfilia, and so can only take a shot in the dark as to the greater implications.

Oh my, I look quite snazzy in these duds.

You cheating bastard. Who said you could bring a dragon?

(Is that a dragon? It doesn't look like Midgardsormr's kin, but then, if I remember correctly, there shouldn't be any of that kind of dragon on the First. Right? So it's something else, whatever it is.)

((Okay, okay, tangent. How does space work here? The dragons are from space. But our "star" aka, the planet was split into many reflections. So what about space? If I went to space on the First would it be a different space from the one on the Source? The same space? Was the entire universe fractured?? THE IMPLICATIONS FOR BOTH ANSWERS ARE STAGGERING!!

Right, okay, tangent over. Back to the cutscene.))

Thancred! You took a level in badass while I wasn't looking. Gunbreaker looks good on you!

The Exarch is also pretty badass but I'm fairly certain he didn't need to take any levels: he was already that way.

And now for a different kind of ass!

(no I will not apologize for that joke)

Interesting that this conflict is what mucked up "the plan," as opposed to, I dunno, killing the Lightwarden? Assuming that the plan was causing the 8th Calamity, I wonder what exactly happened here that knocked it off the rails?

Huh. Well, I didn't expect an Ascian to opt for less bloodshed. I wonder what he means by that?

Also, hey, why is your name "???" ? We already know you're Solus. I mean, unless you're going to be going by a different name..?

Gee Thancred, you might be correct, but you don't have to be a dick about it. She had a supernatural compulsion to come meet me, that's not her fault.

Ahaha! So these are the kind of Fae Folk this game is invoking? How wonderful! Now, are we going with sadistic or amoral? I shall brace for incoming horror regardless.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

elliot euphoria, prompt 10 please? tysm :)

Of course beautiful, I'm actually back in my fike phase so this is perfect timing!! Also thanks for being the only participant! You get an award 🥇

"Hey," Elliot steps into the bathroom, brows drawn together tightly, "you okay?" He asks, lowering himself down onto the floor beside me, nudging me with his hip as his arm wraps around me to rest on the tub behind us.

"My friends left, I don't have a way to get home." I whimper, burying my face in my hands, surely smudging my makeup all over my eyes and cheeks. He tuts, squishing me briefly to his side before rubbing my arms soothingly.

"What assholes." He chastises and sends me a soft smile, dark eyes flickering back and forth between my teary ones. "Hey, if it makes you feel better, all of my friends left too."

"Why are people leaving us? We're so cool." I whimper, the alcohol in my system only making me more pathetic and worsening the abandonment issues dwelling in my brain right now.

"That's right." He laughs, head tilting cutely at me as he reaches over to drag his thumb beneath my eyes, collecting the teary mascara collecting on my skin. "Are you a little drunk?" He asks kindly.

"A lot-tle drunk." I snort, taking a deep breath and pulling the edge of my dress further down my thighs with a deep, disappointed huff.

"Alright." He sighs, leaning away from me to reach into his pocket, pulling out his keys and jangling them in front of my face. "I can drive you home if you want? Or we can just camp out on this random persons bathroom floor?" He offers and my chest rumbles in laughter as I lean into him.

"The tub would be more comfortable." I mutter, reaching over to pat the porcelain behind us as he chuckles once more, tightening his grip protectively around my shoulder as my eyes shut. I feel like I'm wobbling back and forth even though I'm completely stable, Elliot's hands grounding me.

"You're funny. I like you." He grins and if I wasn't spinning right now, I'd attempt to kiss him but I know damn well that if I try right now, my aim will be completely off.

"I like you." I hiccup, tucking my head into his shoulder. "You won't leave like the rest of them right?" I ask, intertwining our fingers as he nudges my chin up so he can look down at me.

“Hey, look at me. I'm not going anywhere.” He grins as if it's the simplest thing in the world and he gives me a simple shrug. "I literally have no where else to be but right here." His words warm my heart, my nausea and headache dissipating momentarily as he laughs. "Or in the tub."

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