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vidavalor · 1 day

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Hello lovely! I'm wondering if you have any thoughts about Maggie in Final1 5? Isn't it weird that she wants to go back to talk to Az and Crowley while Nina's working? Something about it feels off to me.

Hello right back. 💕 There's chamomile mint tea and shortbread since we're on a Maggie theme, if you'd like some. Maggie's behavior from that scene on is super fucking weird, I agree.

Before the milk run-- when Maggie becomes the only involved character whom we lose track of a bit during The Final 15-- versus how she behaves when she returns is so strange as to be something that I consider maybe additional proof that things are not at all what they seem to be in The Final 15.

On Maggie and Crowley's weird Final 15 behavior, a possible meaning to all the allusions to robbery in S2, and what Maggie and Nina might be able to tell us about what happened at the end of S2.

TW: brief mentions of show's non-consensual possession/rape analogy.

Think for a moment about how truly weird Maggie's request for her and Nina to go back to the bookshop in that moment actually is...

It's only been a matter of minutes since Maggie and Nina were basically hostages in the bookshop who were almost killed by Michael and Saraqael. Crowley saved their lives in getting them out of the shop maybe, what? It's been a minute since I rewatched that bit of it but it couldn't have been more than 15 minutes prior?

The beings in the shop but for Maggie and Nina are supernatural and so left magically without using the door but while we the audience know that these people are no longer in the shop because we were watching it, Maggie and Nina do not know that. When Maggie suggests to Nina that they go talk to Crowley and Aziraphale, they have no way of knowing if the beings that just tried to kill them are still in the shop. They didn't even see Aziraphale leave with Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing yet because Nina was all "where's the other one?" to Crowley when they arrived back in the shop.

Maggie is literally like: Nina, I know you opened the business you own late and are the only one working right now and have a line of 20 people waiting for their morning, pre-work coffee but what if-- just hear me out-- we just made them wait an indefinite amount of time to voluntarily go back into the place where we nearly died a matter of minutes ago that could still be full of the people who wanted us dead and we did this for no other purpose than just to tell off my beloved adopted godfather and his partner, who just risked harm to save both our lives? And to maybe then also stick our noses into their love lives in return or something?

I mean... WHAT?!?! lol

Consider, even, how even more weird that is when Maggie, just *prior* to having gone to the mini-mart, had never been more on the same page with Nina and never more understanding?

She sacrificed her own want to go sleep behind the counter of her shop to offer to help Nina. It's a big moment of change in their relationship and shows a lot of growth for Maggie. She's gone from someone who is caring but has a tendency to only think about how things make her feel to seeing things from Nina's perspective. She's matured through the season into being someone more ready to be a partner to Nina. Maggie offering to help Nina with her morning rush-- and Nina accepting the help-- is the sweet, romantic moment showing that these two are heading in a positive direction, both individually and together.

When Maggie gets back with the milk, though? After she's been out of our sight for a few minutes? She's behaving very differently.

During S2, Maggie is shown to be a pretty guileless character. She might have the occasional judgemental moment but she's not deceptive or tricky and she really wouldn't hurt a fly. When Maggie comes back from the milk run, though, her insistence on Nina dropping everything and going with her in that moment is not just weird behavior but manipulative in a way that could not be more out of character for Maggie.

Nina has been in an abusive relationship where she was afraid of displeasing Lindsay. Maggie is aware of this, as it's been the subject of multiple conversations between them throughout the season. So, when Maggie gets so bizarrely insistent on Nina dropping her work-- her livelihood, her purpose, her job-- to meet Maggie's demands in that moment? When this isn't an emergency of any kind and isn't at all time-sensitive and there is no objective reason why Nina should be halting her job to do what Maggie wants in this moment? Maggie is being controlling in a Lindsay-like way. She keeps at it, knowing that Nina will give in and agree to go with her because Nina is used to doing that with her partner.

Nina hesitates and isn't sure whether or not to go with Maggie for a moment and I don't really blame her? This is the complete opposite behavior to Maggie before she left for the mini-mart. Maggie is suddenly acting quite a lot like her polar opposite-- the Lucifer-and-Heaven-paralleling Lindsay.

Maggie is also literally on Nina's shoulder like a devil the whole time in the scene in which she's convincing her to step away from the shop and go across the street with her to the other shop for a chat and...

...listen to what we just said there...

...it's a parallel to the thing that Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing is doing with Aziraphale, is it not?

So, what happened on the milk run?

Who did Maggie run into at the mini-mart that we couldn't see in the ending of S2 without it giving the game away? I wouldn't be surprised if, on this mirror-happy show, on the other side of learning in S3 that it was The Devil with the coffee in the bookshop in The Final 15, we also had a scene that showed that, while on her milk run, Maggie had a run-in with Sister Teresa's killer.

Did Hastur possess Maggie as part of Satan's plan? Was the idea to use Maggie and Nina to further trip Crowley and Aziraphale towards disaster to get Aziraphale? If so, it kind of half-worked. I'm not convinced that anything Maggie and Nina said to Crowley really mattered-- I think they weren't telling him anything he didn't already know or feel and that it's largely misdirection for the audience. What was effective, though, was the impression Aziraphale got upon seeing them leave as he was coming in.

Maggie and Nina being back in there at this weird time and then rushing out with smiles and comments like that they were "just leaving" and they were sure Crowley and Aziraphale had "a lot to discuss" seem to have led Aziraphale to assume that Crowley had asked them to come back and to the conclusion that he must have done so to tell them of his intent to ask Aziraphale to marry him. It's Maggie and Nina leaving the shop that reinforce to Aziraphale the idea that, when Crowley stands up afterwards, takes off his glasses, and says he supposes he has "something to say", that Crowley is only trying to communicate a proposal and not a plan.

It's what helps-- big time-- to lead Aziraphale to not listen for a shred of coded language for the entire scene. Neither he nor Crowley are listening for that with one another, which is why neither of them can truly understand what the other is saying, but Aziraphale's part of that is really fucked to Hell by the presence of Maggie and Nina in the shop when he came back. That's all pretty suspicious since Maggie was out of our sight for a few moments and came back fixated on the idea that she and Nina needed to go to the bookshop right that very moment and that it couldn't wait.

The Final 15 is a dark parallel to The Baby Swap plot and Maggie and Nina are full of shadows of Sisters Mary and Teresa to a point that the final shots of both of them in the series are mirror images of the final shots of their S1 characters. Nina looking through glass at Crowley departing is the last shot of Sister Mary both in 2008 and 2019, while Maggie's last shot?

To me, it's one of the most eerie moments in the entire series because of how much it visually resembles Sister Teresa's death.

Basically two minutes after we hear about The Second Coming... in the same season where Maggie and Nina's partial-vavoom gives way to a (possessed?) Gabriel saying: the dead will leave their graves and walk the Earth once more... we are shown Crowley and Aziraphale's apparent adopted goddaughter unresponsive on the counter of her shop.

Is Maggie dead?

Is Maggie asleep, like we were led to believe she wanted to do earlier in the episode? Maybe. Is she comatose/unconscious? Maybe. It's just that, best I can tell, she does not take a breath during the shot which I feel had to be intentional on the part of Maggie Service, and she's in the same position as we last saw Sister Teresa in S1...

Then, there's the robbery theme and how Maggie and Nina foreshadow so much of the end of S2 back in this scene here:

In Good Omens, the shop is the character. Maggie is, symbolically, the records she sells. The show also explains that Maggie's shop used to be a part of the bookshop. Now, there are three characters, not two, who are A.Z. Fell & Co.: Aziraphale, Crowley and Maggie. At the same time, Aziraphale is also The Small Back Room. The shops are intertwined as the characters are, essentially, family in the story. The fate of one is the fate of the other, which makes what Maggie and Nina foreshadow when talking about Maggie's shop while trapped together in Nina's not just the fate of Maggie's shop in S2 but also of the bookshop.

Maggie says that if she can't close the door to her shop, someone could walk in and take records. Maggie is the records she sells so, symbolically, this means someone could take Maggie. We got a bit of a preview of that when Shax appeared to get into her mind during the attack on the bookshop and Maggie also became the one who unintentionally "let the robbers in."

These robbers, Maggie frets... they could empty her till-- take all her money on a literal level... take her mind, or maybe even her life, on another. (Not to mention the now chill-inducing use of money-related words and coins with regards to the paralleling Crowley...) These robbers could take forcible ownership of Maggie's shop-- so, of Maggie. Maggie's shop was born of the bookshop... so, they could take forcible ownership of the bookshop, too.

Not just the physical bookshop, though that, too. The symbolic bookshop. Which is not only Aziraphale but Crowley and Aziraphale.

But, if The Small Back Room was originally part of the bookshop, then the bookshop really isn't just Crowley and Aziraphale-- it's Crowley, Aziraphale and Maggie.

If the robbers come for the bookshop, they've also come for The Small Back Room because it is all born of the same, symbolic shop.

Is that what they did?

Is that why Maggie is last shown to us non-responsive in her shop?

Now, Nina's even more foreshadowing reply:

Nina said that, if she owned a record shop, she'd be more concerned about "someone breaking in and leaving more records behind."

What are records? They're the literal records in the musical and old film sense that Maggie sells, yes, and also Maggie herself. They're also books, like what Aziraphale sells, and Aziraphale himself. But they're also a third thing that's very much of note in S2.

They're also the life's work of a scrivener, like what Muriel does.

Nina foreshadows someone breaking in and leaving "more records behind"... which is exactly what happens in The Final 15.

Elspeth's graverobbing. Bildad stealing Job and Sitis' wine and food. The 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. Aziraphale having the missing Shakespeare Robin Hood play in the box in 2.06. The robbery-based fantasy Aziraphale was telling Crowley in Lockdown: ...the other night, when a couple of young lads broke into the back and tried to steal the cash(cache)box!

The Final 15 is a robbery.

The last two episodes see the shop attacked during The Meeting Ball and into the next morning. Aziraphale is robbed blind of his entire life. Characters are taken hostage. Signals for help are tried and fail. The cop, it turns out, was a stooge for the robbers. Whoever Derek Jacobi Is Playing broke in through the open door and robbed the place blind, as Maggie foreshadowed. As Nina foreshadowed he would, what did the robber leave behind?

More records. Muriel.

To rob, as we know, is to steal. It's to plunder or strip a place from someone through force and/or violence. That is why it was once, in addition to being descriptive of physical goods stolen from a person, also a word that was used for rape, for which non-consensual possession has been analogous since the show's first episode. That is why some of us think that the music goes insane on the look to Crowley in the scene below. Satan is robbing Crowley-- forcing him to identify him as The Metatron to Aziraphale and the angels and to let Aziraphale go alone with him.

Satan attacked Crowley in front of Aziraphale and, while Aziraphale pretended he didn't see it, he did, which is why he led "The Metatron" straight out the door in an effort to get him away from Crowley. Because, speaking of characters behaving very weirdly... anyone have a better explanation for why guard dog Crowley sat in that chair like he couldn't get out of it and encouraged Aziraphale to go alone with a guy who once tried to kill them? It just doesn't make any sense unless his words are not really his own and there's only one character we've seen do that to him.

And if Crowley's not the only one behaving out of character, then what else happened to Maggie at the mini-mart but something similar?

What happened in The Final 15? Satan robbed the bookshop.

He and The Metatron don't give a toss about the shop itself and plan to destroy it alongside everything else once Armageddon gets rocking. They're there to get Crowley and Aziraphale out of the way for Armageddon by dividing and conquering. Just because we've yet to see blood doesn't mean this wasn't robbery by force.

Satan took hostages at the start-- letting the ones go he didn't care about go and keeping the ones most likely to influence the shop's owner: Crowley and Muriel.

Satan and The Metatron sacrificed Muriel to their plan, not caring if Muriel explodes along with the shop when they kick off Armageddon a matter of *checks watch* basically any minute now after S2. We think Muriel is better off in the shop at the end of S2 but I'm not totally sure they are. I think it actually might be one of the most dangerous places to be in right now. The bookshop didn't burn down this time-- it was burned as safe space in every possible way. It's a crime scene.

The Metatron and Satan are here for revenge. The Metatron is letting Satan have Aziraphale to get Crowley and Aziraphale out of the way for Armageddon. There is no real job offer-- it's all Satan tempting Aziraphale into falling. Satan's revenge on Crowley and Aziraphale is to force Crowley to help him take Aziraphale right out from under his nose. That's the start of it, anyway.

Besides Armageddon and daring to have a relationship and a sense of self outside of the demonic collective of Hell what is Satan really pissed at Crowley and Aziraphale about?

His kid. Adam. Crowley and Aziraphale helping Adam against him.

If Satan has been lying in wait, still very, very angry at Crowley and Aziraphale for turning his son against him and if he's now here for revenge, then who else besides Aziraphale is then most in peril here?

Yes, my Job-and-Sitis-paralleling poppet... your big, cross duck and your kids are most imperiled here and S2 showed us that your kids are not just humanity writ large but, specifically, Maggie. The Small Back Room is of the bookshop that is you and Crowley. Maggie is your Adam. Will Satan come after your daughter? It's a concept posed in your paralleling/foreshadowing story earlier in the season... actually, it was also the entire plot of that paralleling story earlier in the season as well...

I feel like not going with Ennon and Keziah's theories on Satan's behavior is probably the best way to form a Good Omens theory 😂 so I'll stick with the idea that Satan very much would dare leave a revenge body count of Crowley and Aziraphale's adopted kids, as the Job minisode proved he'd do even with the spawn of "God's favorite human", let alone anybody else.

As, speaking of foreshadowing lines, this is really even more S2 than it was about S1:

Satan will even have a whole pseudo-philosophical chat about it with you first, amused that he's standing in a place called Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death and ordering a coffee while the plan is likely for this place, the women making him the coffee, and everyone on this street and on most of the planet to be dead by tomorrow.

Maggie is the only character who actually asked for coffee using that exact word in S2.

#good omens #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens theory #maggie good omens #nina good omens #muriel good omens #good omens analysis #the final 15 #the final fifteen #good omens speculation #the metatron #tw sa mention

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ohraicodoll · 2 years

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Monsters

Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us (show/game) 4.8K Words (3rd POV) Summary: Two broken people clash. “Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness.” Warning: Depictions of graphic violence Part I | Part II

Ellie had told him that the woman had been trying to be a singer before the world went to hell. He hadn’t asked, because he never asked, but had learned it the way most information came from the young girl. Rushed and mostly to fill the silence between them when she wasn’t being entertained. He didn’t care about before because that world was over so why did it matter- who they were before- but he could see it in his mind sometimes.

She would have been young, a lot younger than him by a decade at least, and soft skinned with bright eyes and an eagerness to share something beautiful. An artist type with her voice as the brush. He knew that type well. When he was younger, he’d wanted to be a musician too. Had learned to play the guitar, played a few gigs to keep himself occupied while Tommy went off to the army trying to be a hero. Met a girl that way though it all came screeching to a halt when she got knocked up and then quickly dipped when Sarah was young. There was no time for guitar and dreams while raising an infant as a single father. He had just been an average joe then. Not too smart, not too many goals, but good with his hands and at building things. The only job he was qualified for. He hadn’t had time for beauty or art when he’d been too busy trying to pay the bills, keep his brother out of trouble fresh from discharge, and his daughter fed and taken care of. Now neither of them had time for that. It was only about survival and this teenage girl tethering them together. The mission. The woman, who Ellie had taken to calling Red for some reason he wasn’t paying attention to, wasn’t soft skinned anymore and probably hadn’t been for a long time. She was all bared teeth, sharp edges, and brutality. A bobcat whose first instinct was to tear and shred rather than be gentle. That’s how he first saw Red.

They’d been clearing an old building for the night to possibly stay in and had stumbled upon a group who’d camped the area, knowing what a prime location it was. Scavengers, vultures picking off whoever came through and taking what they could. There’d been a good number of them and Joel was only one man with a highly valuable ward so he did the rational thing and ran. Ellie had stumbled badly, falling behind in the blink of an eye. He’d cursed at himself later and reamed himself a new one at the fact he didn’t keep her in front of him. It was an amateur mistake and he wasn’t an amateur. The scavenger that had been persistently tailing them had been there fast, machete raised, still pissed at the blow the girl had landed on him earlier. Quicker than he could raise his own arm and shoot the guy Red had come barreling from a side room, swinging a metal bat so hard into the guy's head it dented. All teeth, growling like a goddamn animal, bashing the bat over and over into his head until it was nothing but pulp. Breathing hard, her eyes met his and it was like looking into a mirror. Hollow and broken and rage. Even when he hated her presence, it stirred something deep in his belly to see her spitting and angry at the world. Like a confirmation that only the cruel survived. That if something sweet like her had turned into a monster then he shouldn’t have expected better for himself. Permission. He was justified in his edges and bitterness. She’d helped Ellie and gotten them out, her choice made after seeing the asshole go after the girl. It took all night to get out of the city limits and far enough it was safe enough to rest. Then the damn kid got attached. She refused to go on without the woman after only one night, no matter how much Joel growled at her absolutely not. Red didn’t have anyone, was just surviving from one night to the next. The heavy implication that there had been a group, had been other people, once hung in the silence. And against his best wishes, Joel agreed if only to get the kid moving though he kept an eye on the woman diligently for at least a couple weeks.

They both didn’t like each other at first, but she looked after the girl and it helped having someone look over his shoulder after Tess… But she wasn't the smuggler who had been all broken edges and selfishness. Red didn’t give a shit about herself to a fault, so selfless at times it felt like it was a punishment or a goddamn death wish. Like she hated herself. She used her body like a weapon and made Ellie her sole priority as if she had nothing left tethering her to life until she saved the girl. He reasoned that it made his job easier, but if anything it made him more on edge watching her throw herself into every fight like a rabid animal with no care for her own safety. Joel reasoned that it was because seeing another person die would make Ellie harder to manage, but he wasn’t so sure. He wondered who she had lost to act that way and then he shoved that thought into the back of his mind because he didn’t care about her enough to wonder that. As the days went on, he could see the leftover marks from the world before and the person she used to be, small whispers of that bright eyed girl. A small tattooed “Love ya” in someone’s handwriting on her inner arm. Dainty flowers on her ankle. Stars on little strings under her collar bone. What you would expect a young woman to get if there weren’t an apocalypse. When she pissed him off, he called her Starshine mockingly, unable to see something so small and lighthearted without turning it bitter. She called him Tex after Ellie had spilled that’s where he was from. He hadn’t been able to hide the wince at the name so she kept at it like a bird pecking at an open wound. The memory of Tess's voice calling him that late at night had long since merged with her wide scared eyes as he left her to die. It flashed in his mind every time. It made him hate her more, but the anger kept him focused. Starshine. Tex. The pain was a revolving door. Red protected her bag religiously. It held everything that she owned, the only remnants of that life before. A small mixtape cassette of music, a couple of pictures, a pair of keys that were rusted and useless, a journal. He’d seen her damn near behead a guy who had attempted to rip it off her and she hadn’t stopped hacking away until she was soaked in blood and panting. It was the one time Ellie had been scared of her. Joel had been impressed. All teeth. She didn’t speak for days after that. That softness wasn’t completely gone though, just buried underneath thick callus-like skin. Sometimes he could catch it peeking through. When they’d happened upon a stream, she’d forced Ellie to wash her hair and he’d watched as Red helped her lean her hair back into the water and had even laughed when the girl swung it to splash her. She’d sat behind Ellie later on and combed through the long mess, complaining the kid was letting it get matted. Then she’d rolled her eyes when Ellie had complained in turn about Red’s aggressive brushing. She could handle people trying to kill her constantly but not getting her tangles brushed out. Joel had watched them out of the corner of his eye, warm coffee in his hands, and simply shook his head. The kid liked her and it kept Ellie from pestering him constantly, though he was finding he didn’t mind it as much. She would take turns asking them questions whether they be about the world or how things worked or their lives before. Sometimes she simply liked to read things out loud from her dumb joke book to whatever books she’d grab. It was the few times he saw Red crack a smile, her hand on Ellie’s bag to keep the girl moving forward and making sure she didn’t trip on anything while distracted. He was minding them both less and less. When they’d gone through a store, Red’s fingers had trailed over the tops of old records lovingly, wistfully. Joel had watched her linger for a second and the way her eyes had lightened, her lips pressed together as if she were remembering. When she caught him staring, her hand had snatched away and the light had sputtered out before she kept going. He’d resisted going over and seeing what records she had touched, finding the spots in the dust hers had made. One time after having found two whole bottles of booze and a safe enough spot to breathe, they’d both gotten drunk after Ellie had passed out. It’d been a hard day of travel and they had needed it. Joel hadn’t had alcohol in months and his tolerance had diminished, the liquor hitting him harder than it had in a while. She’d mentioned a younger sister and a guy named Harry and he didn’t have to wonder who she had lost anymore. The name burned in his belly along with the taste of the alcohol and he imagined someone handsome and young, maybe the owner of the “love ya” handwriting. He didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry to see how long that wound had been there. His own was twenty years old and still festering. Hell, there was a new one just a few months old. They’d switched to other topics. Music mostly, Texas, the Fireflies. Nothing too personal, but holding tiny glimpses of themselves. She’d fallen asleep first and his eyes had traced the tiny stars too many times to count, hand gripping the bottle of liquor to keep from reaching out. They both learned each other’s patterns. Months of traveling together, working together to keep Ellie safe, had given her the ability to read what he wanted without him even saying it. Survival did that. Flank left, check around the corner right, keep back with Ellie while he cleared the rooms. He trusted her to take care of the girl, but that selfless tendency sometimes reared its ugly head…except Joel didn’t know when things changed. When it stopped being a pain in the ass for him and instead drove high keeling panic through his body. The sun was getting low and they’d unintentionally come too close to what seemed like a fortified cabin. The owners had been out and stumbled upon them, a case of the wrong people at the wrong time, and Joel knew instantly what type of people these were. Not just preppers like Bill, but kill-first-zero-hesitation survivalists. Apparently simply knowing of the safe house’s location was a death sentence and they’d attacked before he could process. Joel had a guy in a chokehold, squeezing so tight he could hear the distinct crack of bones splintering. There’d been four, the first easy enough to take care of but while Red was finishing him, another was headed towards Ellie and had managed to hit her. The woman had thrown herself at him, literally, clinging onto his back and driving her knife over and over into his chest. But he wasn’t going down so easily and had grabbed onto her arm in turn, trapping her there. She didn’t see the fourth guy walking up with his gun trained. Didn’t see that she was seconds from being another name on the list of people who had died in Joel’s life. But he had. White hot panic shot through his chest and he hadn’t thought, hadn’t even grabbed the pistol that had fallen to the ground. Joel lunged, gunshot ringing through his ear, and tackled the man. Blood warmed his skin as he punched over and over and over again. He hadn’t needed a bat to do the same damage she had done that first time, he was a weapon himself and even as bone fragments embedded in his hands, skin caved, and brain matter splattered all over the ground he destroyed whatever was left of the man underneath him. “Joel!” her fervent whisper shot through him and the sound of his name, not just Tex, finally got him to stop, breathing hard. In the dying sun, he could see her perfectly standing next to him. Like starshine. Still alive, the barest graze of a bullet on her shoulder. But she was okay and Ellie was okay and the man was dead. And she wasn't afraid of him, sitting atop the mutilated corpse that he had done with his own hands. “You okay?” she asked and he wanted to laugh because she was asking him? But he nodded gruffly and attempted to stand, only pausing when she offered him a hand equally covered in blood. She used to be a singer. He’d be a musician. Now they were matching monsters. For some reason, seeing her blood soaked hand in his irked him. She hadn’t been paying attention to herself and was only focused on getting the guy away from Ellie. It was careless and remembering seeing the gun raised at her irritated him even more. “You damn near almost got killed, Starshine,” Joel growled, his anger finding its usual target, “You’re lucky I managed to get to him in time and all you got was a graze instead of your brains splattered all over the damn floor.” “I was protecting Ellie,” Red bit out, hackles raised, “I’m sorry, I thought that was the point? Would you rather I make sure her ass stays alive or mine?” He grit his teeth together and clenched his fists, the pain shooting up from the torn skin helping keep him grounded. The answer should have been easy. Ellie, always. She was the cargo, the whole reason behind this journey. But the fact he couldn’t make himself reply, wasn’t satisfied with either option, made him turn his back and walk towards the house in silence. He didn’t like what that meant. They could see why the group had wanted to protect the small cabin. It was a goldmine and if they didn’t have a goal, a mission, Joel would have loved to keep fixing the place up and stay there for the rest of his life. They had their own generators, a high concrete fence, a water well, and even a small farm behind the house. They even had electricity and running hot water. It was a goddamn oasis in the middle of the forest, a more rustic smaller version of what Bill and Frank had. After clearing the whole place, it was decided they all would stay at least a day or two. It was safe enough and that would give them all time to rest, restock, and breathe before continuing on to Wyoming. It was a luxury and there was no sense not taking advantage of that.

Ellie had happily raced through the whole house, digging through the previous occupants' belongings as if she hadn’t just witnessed all four of them get massacred. She flipped through their books, went through the pantries, and even shouted happily to Red at the discovery of a radio and collection of tapes. She’d paused only to scrunch up her nose, looking at the two adults, “Actually, you both should take showers first. You both need it so I’ll go last.” Joel had looked down, blood and mud covering his arms and pants while Red’s torso and hands were crimson as well. Now that the adrenaline was seeping from his body, the sting of his knuckles were making themselves known. He nodded his head at the woman, brow furrowed, “You can take a shower in the Master. I’m gonna take stock of all their shit and use the hallway one.” For once, Red didn’t argue, only pressed her lips tightly together and nodded before heading down to where they’d discovered the large master bedroom. She was usually quick to argue about being told what to do, but Joel tried not to think too much about it and chalked it up to exhaustion. The hot water was a godsend for his bunch up muscles though it stung like hell on his wounds. Hands pressed against the shower wall, he let the water run over his skin and wash away all the blood away. The murky rust colored water swirled and disappeared down the drain and though his brain told him to be efficient, clean and get in and out, he allowed him a small bit of time to stand there and zone out. There’d been a fixed up jeep in a makeshift garage out back. They could tear every salvageable supply from the cabin, fill it up, and finally make it to Wyoming in record time instead of the weeks, months, it’d been taking walking there. A couple days to rest and they’d be on their way. But with a plan set, his mind inevitably went to the woman he’d just butchered a man to protect. It hadn’t been like that moment with Ellie, standing in front of the FEDRA soldier. That night his mind had disappeared, seeing the light of the gun and knowing there was a young girl behind him that was the same age Sarah had been made him flashback to that moment. He’d been there again, but different. More brutal, more capable. He wouldn’t let her get hurt again. No, this was different. Pure instinct had taken over his body and he hadn’t thought at all. Ellie hadn’t been the one in danger, Red had, but the reaction had been visceral. He hadn’t wanted her name to end up on that list of people Joel couldn’t save. Hell, he didn’t even know her real name. No one to mourn her but him and the kid. Running a hand over his face, he finished washing up and turned the water off, not wanting to take all the heat before Ellie could get cleaned up. His muscles had loosened but that only let every ache and soreness seep in, his knuckles a mess of skin and small fragments of bone stabbed in. They were going to smart for a while and he needed to get the splinters out. Joel threw on a loose shirt and clean pair of jeans, water dripping from his damp hair even as he tried to comb it back. He’d seen a small suture kit in the master bedroom with some tweezers. Cursing himself for not grabbing it, he left the bathroom and barely missed being bulldozed over as Ellie ran in, “my turn!” He frowned as the door slammed shut loudly in her eagerness, shaking his head at the teenager and sighing. Red had to still be in the shower so that would give him enough time to grab the kit from the bedroom and try to clean up his hand. Most of the fragments were in his right hand, his dominant one, and it was gonna be a bitch to get out. The master bedroom was more like a stockpile than what it previously was. All the outer windows had been boarded up, the only entrance to the house being the front door. Racks of fabric, supplies, all sorts lined the walls. Nothing decorative, purely functional. Turning to the bathroom door to make sure it was still shut, Joel went over and found the shelf of First Aid supplies and rifled through until he came across the small kit. No alcohol, but there was some ointment and bandages so better than nothing. “Shoulda just used the gun,” Red’s voice was soft despite the words and he turned, finding her leaning against the open door frame in nothing but a towel. Steam poured from the entryway, light reflecting off the mist and surrounding her almost in a glow. She looked cleaner than he’d ever seen, skin shiny and hair sticking to her neck. The little tattooed stars winked at him even from across the room. He forgot how quiet she could be sometimes. “You rather I take three seconds to find my gun in the dark and let you get shot or deal with a busted hand?” Joel bit out gruffly, hand clenching reflexively though he wasn’t sure if it was out of pain or because he wanted to trace the long line of her bare neck. She didn’t reply, arms crossed over her torso before padding over and grabbing the kit from his hands. Her face was never relaxed, lips always pressed together in a slight purse and brows lowered. A line between her eyes was beginning to develop, the apocalypse wearing and tearing her down like the rest of them. He wondered if she had been a smiler when she was younger and shared her music but then clamped down on that thought. “Sit,” Red bit out though she accompanied it by shoving a hand against his chest, forcing him to take a seat on the edge of the bed. His own brows furrowed into a hard line, back stiff, at the none too gentle movement though his mouth went dry for an entirely different reason as she kneeled in front of him. He could see the little stars up close, peering down at her as she shoved her way between his knees on the floor. She smelled of soap and something floral which had his brain confused because it didn’t fit her. Maybe the her before, but not the one soaked in blood that usually was at his side. She grabbed his hand in her’s without even asking him and pulled it forward to rest on his thigh, laying out the contents of the kit next to them before pulling the tweezers out. Joel could only watch and control his breathing, trying not to shudder at the feel of her warm skin against his jeans or the brush of her hair over his arms. It’d been a while…since Tess and he wasn’t going to deny that Red was attractive. Hell, any man probably would have a hard time keeping his thoughts pure with a pretty woman between his thighs. But her on her knees, fingers skimming over his knuckles, made him clench his teeth in an attempt to remain neutral.

“You don’t have to-” “Shut up, Miller,” Red muttered, holding the tweezers and working to dig out one of the larger splinters, “I’ve seen you use your left and you’re shit with it.” Joel huffed and tried to focus on the pain, his breathing, anything but her touch. He should have yanked his hand away and shrugged her off, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when she was this close and he could watch her, memorize the freckles along her shoulders and the trail of water sliding down. She pulled out a few large fragments of bone and he watched in morbid curiosity at the small pile. They’d once belonged to the skull of another person. Joel had managed to smash his head in so hard they’d dug underneath his skin, silent retribution in the last moments of that man’s life. Now he was in his house, using his water and his things, taking his bed. “Luckily it doesn’t seem like you fractured your hand,” Red muttered, adding another small bone to the pile. One of her hands was holding the tweezers while the other wrapped around his fingers, his own hand almost gently wrapped around hers. He tried to shrug it off as her holding it to maneuver it around.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Joel grumbled and cleared his throat as her thumb trailed over the cuts on his knuckles. The small movement was surprisingly gentle, something he didn’t expect from her. “You saved me,” the words were whispered softly as if she didn’t want to speak them out loud into existence. But he’d heard them, had been acutely aware of the sound of her breathing and the way her lips formed the words even as she concentrated on pulling the splinters out. And her saying them, confirming what he had done, shot a different kind of pain through him. Because he had saved her and for all the excuses he tried to come up with, they were just that. Excuses. The real reason why wasn’t something he was willing to admit to. But it stirred that anger he relied on when confronted by something he didn’t like. Vulnerability. “I wouldn’t have had to if you’d been watching yourself,” he growled low and tried to jerk his hand out of her grasp, but she held on strong, “Should have stayed back and behind me like I told you to.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his hazel ones under her brow and those long lashes, the look hard and sharp. “Right. It’s always listen to you or do what you say as if you’re the expert on surviving,” her voice was low and rough like a crackling flame, “Anyone ever told you that you have control issues, Tex?” The sight of her angry, on her knees in just a towel and wet hair clinging to her skin, framing those little tattooed stars had something stirring deep inside. His free hand dug into his thigh and he tried to ignore how soft her hands were even as they gripped his injured one, “My control issues have kept me alive this long. You knew what you were signing up for when you tagged along. I didn’t need a second little girl to watch over if that’s how you want to act, Starshine.” She chuckled humorlessly and leaned in towards him between his thighs, “No, you see at first I thought that was your type. That you liked being obeyed and I was almost sure that’s how you liked getting your rocks off. Some sweet damsel in distress who needs you and gets on their knees to please you however you want like good girls.” As if emphasizing her point, she sat up straight all prim and proper and he tried to ignore the trickle of water that slid down her cleavage and into the towel. Red wasn’t wrong entirely. The sight had his mouth watering and as her hand rested on his thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there, arousal flooded him. Then the hand still holding his injured one squeezed and he hissed, a strange combination of pleasure and pain hitting him, “But the more I see you, I don’t think you want some submissive sweet thing at all. I think you like someone arguing with you more, right Tex?” Joel glared at her, blood pounding through his veins. He was loath to admit to her being right, at confirming that she had read that part of him, especially as she sat there half naked and looking so smug. Maybe she was right. Hell, that had been what had drawn him to Tess. He didn’t like gentle, didn’t trust it anymore. Gentle got you killed and even if he did want her to listen and do what she was told, it’d been born out of wanting to keep a distance. But she wasn’t gentle and she didn’t listen. She was a wild animal, all teeth, and hell if that hadn’t made her attractive even while driving him wild. “Guess you got me all figured out, don’t ya Starshine?” he hissed, leaning towards her. Her fingers clenched onto him tighter and he got the urge to lick the star pattern along her collarbone, just to see what she’d do. But he didn’t, eyes narrowing and drilling into her own, “Except you’re wrong if you don’t think I like seeing you on your knees for me.” Her pupils were wide and blown up, skin flushed and scars in even more stark relief. Each deep breath made her chest rise and fall and he knew even if she was trying to hide it, his words had affected her the same. Joel only leaned back and ripped his hand from hers, moving to stand up, “Now get dressed and go to sleep if you’re done bothering me.” He’d snatched the suture kit and tweezers from the bed, stepping around the woman and leaving her still on her knees as he went for the door. He felt the urge to look back at her, to see her reaction, but he only pressed forward and left, shutting the door behind him. If he didn’t look back, she would stay the same monster as him in his head, not the girl who smelled of flowers and gently pressed against his thighs. And he needed that reassurance even as the memory of her skin on his made his fists clench.