#firefly 2017

[kat-aa]

i would loveeeee if dan started posting his music opinions again. i miss hearing what he has to say, he’s always so precise and detailed and concrete with his opinions. like that man is RIGHT.

in high school i used to listen to his younows and take NOTES on what he’s been listening to and he introduced me to so so many artists and i miss that candidness from him

:(

i know streams/liveshows are so unlikely from either of them at this point but i loved how it was just an outlet for dan to yap. and by god did that man have opinions!! let me hear them again!!!

[impetighost]

I had a genius thought and i don't know how but I made this in like 3 hours

henry bowers and baby firefly are similar so

before anyone says it doesn't look like henry just know I had drawn one side profile before this

original image

[lady-ethne]

I’m bored and wanna post something. Here’s a bunch of art I made for Youtube videos that rather got uploaded to Deviantart or never saw the light of day outside their videos. Enjoy

[royalfirefly]

Thinking about Mask of Shadows by Lindsey Miller because I just finished reading it last night and loved it.

I need to read an AU where Four lived tho. Four and Sal friendship AU please. I need it

[r0yalqueen]

Lanea (24) & Firefly (19) oc’s

[todorokies]

WHEN THE LIGHTS ARE LOW - logan howlett

contents 𝝑𝑒 : fem!reader, nsfw, cockwarming, some fluff & angst (?) got mixed up in this, implied legal age-gap, grumpy old man logan (written with ‘logan 2017’ in mind but he isn’t sick), intimacy scares logan but he tries, 1.1k words

a/n 𝝑𝑒 : this is possibly ooc this is my first time writing for him please go easy on me! ,,,, inspired by the song ‘when the lights are low’ by the paragons

“read to me, please?”

the air in the quite spacious room suddenly turned chilled as life around seemed to come to a halt. the eccentric buzzing of traffic seemingly stilled allowing cicadas and woodland birds to make their presence known.

fireflies tangoing into the darkened night jiving the streets alongside citizens peacefully making their way back to their residences.

it’s unlikely for a friday night to be uneventful for logan. a usual run through of the crazed day would be servicing important higher ups in his limousine, taking them to a glamorous black-tie event or a rowdy group of middle aged ladies celebrating a bride-to-be’s last night of freedom.

it was also unlikely for the said man to be in your bedroom after the hours of eight, conversing with you as the pads of his calloused fingertips ghosted over the satin silk that graced upon your body.

his tensed furrowed eyebrows relaxed for once, as he willingly leaves his on edge and guarded demeanour at your porch.

you don’t know how he was able to get the night off and frankly, you aren’t too eager to find out. rather using your energy to melt in his presence and eventually molding into one as his hazel half lidded eyes cautiously watches you straddle him then ease yourself on his semi hard cock.

his eyes immediately screwed shut followed by a throaty low groan once you bottom out, sitting completely still, your pelvises touching one another. your eyes softly flutter at the pleasurable ache as your hands found refuge around his neck and into the brushy hairs on his nape.

your question rings through his ears like a faint echo. with a quirked eyebrow, he lifts his head off the antique bed frame to face you, sharply examining your features.

“you can’t be serious?” he exasperatedly huffed out closing his eyes again and leaned back against the headboard.

you narrowed your eyes at him, “i’m dead serious. why else would you bring your glasses if you knew you had zero intentions of doing any reading?”

he doesn’t miss a beat, “i keep 'em on me at all times.” his voice is flat, not showcasing any emotion to give you more material.

you sigh, your lips pursed into a thin line while glancing at logan’s salt and pepper tufts of hair, allowing silence to fall amongst the two of you, not willing to continue the small squabble for a rather nonsensical request on your end.

that’s until you hear him scoff and mutter under his breath, “yeah, that’s what i thought.”

with a sharply slow roll of your hips you clamp down onto him, feeling his cockhead prods at your spongy spot. he loudly hisses through his teeth due to the sudden sensation, panting slightly as his fist balls up the sheets.

“you should be glad i haven’t hidden them yet, you old fuck,” you coyly beam.

logan’s brows knitted together as he shakily exhaled a deep breath to maintain —what’s left of— his composure, eyes stuck on your figure. great, you’re mocking him now, but he did have it coming he supposes.

his next movements are calculated, hesitant and uncertain as he reaches for your waist. yes, he has touched you before from head to toe, but there is always a sick gutted feeling of his that you’ll easily wither away in his arms leaving his dread to consume his soul once again.

his grip on your waist is loose, a mere nudge from a ghost, until you cuff your own hands over his to reassure his grip on you, his gaze softens.

“what do you want from me tonight?” his voice comes out as a honey dipped whisper, not what you were expecting as a rebuttal. it throws you off course, breath hitching before lightly nibbling on your bottom lip.

what exactly do you want from him tonight? when you received his sudden call five minutes before his arrival your nerves were over the moon. despite being in a relationship with logan for many months now, he always gave you an unorthodox reason to be nervous.

logan is intense. from how he carries himself to his appearance, his gaze all the way down to his speech patterns, the venom he spits out to his enemies or how he loves and cares for others so deeply; flesh, bones and all.

his love intimidates you —which is ironic in the sense that he could say the same exact thing about you— so truthfully, you don’t know what you want from him. only to be close enough to touch him, smell him, and to strip away his clothes to feel his skin onto yours.

but you choose not to say any of this, “shouldn’t i be asking you that?”

he dryly chuckles. the type of chuckle that reverberates against your own body from close proximity. you always loved when he laughed.

“i suppose you’re right, i am your guest after all.”

his larger hands begin to caress your waist, rubbing small circles with his thumb, “why do you want me to read to you?” genuine curiosity is laced in his tone. he stares up at you patiently awaiting for your answer and you now feel like a deer caught in headlights.

his undivided attention makes you shift against him causing the both of you to softly groan then you shrug, because you truly don’t know why yourself.

“i thought it would be a nice thing for us to do.” you nervously start to pick at the skin that surrounds your nails.

he simply hums in acknowledgment and soon captures your hands in his to stop you from fidgeting, “next time, bub, i just want to enjoy this at the moment.”

you break out into an earnest smile, your hands soon snaking its way out of his grasp to place them back on the base of his neck, his hands soon moves to your waist with much more confidence this time around.

“sooo, does this mean you’ll take another day off to visit me again?” your big doe eyes lit up at the possibility of spending another quiet friday night with logan by your side.

he feigns irritation, “who said i took the day off? i just didn’t have anything better to do.”

you playfully shove his shoulder before passionately locking lips with him. he’s tentative to your reactions as he bores his entire life force into you, a match has been light in the pit of his stomach as you both explored each other’s mouths.

he grunts. wanting more, craving more until you pull away, a small string of saliva follows before separating.

“well, next time when you have nothing better to do you’ll just have to read me pride and prejudice.”

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[huariqueje]

Looking for Fireflies - Sebastian Blanck , 2017

American, b.1976 -

Watercolor and collage on stretched paper. , 10 × 8 in 

[metamorphesque]

im hoping to become a full time, full fledged toxic cinephile filmbro with an air of superiority and condescension. do you have a list of movies i should watch to start my journey?

ah! wrong door for toxic cinephile initiation — this is the department of the humble admirers of cinema. however, I’d be delighted to share some personal favorites if you’d like. the list may expand over time because.. well... cinema is a gift that keeps on giving (and my memory is a treacherous friend)

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964, Directed by Jacques Demy), Ararat (2002, Directed by Atom Egoyan), In the Mood for Love (2000, Directed by Wong Kar-wai), Fallen Angels (1995, Directed by Wong Kar-wai), Chungking Express (1994, Directed by Wong Kar-wai), The Godfather Trilogy (1972, 1974, 1990 Directed by Francis Ford Coppola), Le Bonheur (1965, Directed by Agnès Varda), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, Directed by Stanley Kubrick), The Color of Pomegranates (1969, Directed by Sergei Parajanov), Mirror (1975, Directed by Andrei Tarkovsky), Indian Summer (1972, Directed by Valerio Zurlini), The Men (1972, Տղամարդիկ, Directed by Edmond Keosayan), A Piece of Sky (1980, Կտոր մը երկինք, Directed by Henrik Malyan), Mother (1991, Mayrig, Directed by Henri Verneuil), A Special Day (1977, Una giornata particolare, Directed by Ettore Scola), Grave of the Fireflies (1988, Directed by Isao Takahata), A Short Film About Love (1988, Directed by Krzysztof Kieślowski), The Double Life of Véronique (1991, La Double Vie de Véronique, Directed by Krzysztof Kieślowski), Three Colours Trilogy (1993, 1994, Directed by Krzysztof Kieślowski), Damage (1992, Directed by Louis Malle), Phantom Thread (2017, Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson), Léon: The Professional (1994, Directed by Luc Besson), Before Sunrise (1995, Directed by Richard Linklater), Perfect Blue (1997, Directed by Satoshi Kon), Notting Hill (1999, Directed by Roger Michell), Mr. Nobody (2009, Directed by Jaco Van Dormael), Spirited Away (2001, Directed by Hayao Miyazaki), Howl’s Moving Castle (2004, Directed by Hayao Miyazaki), The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003, Directed by Peter Jackson), Pride & Prejudice (2005, Directed by Joe Wright), The Phantom of the Opera (2004, Directed by Joel Schumacher), Alexander (2004, Directed by Oliver Stone), A Ghost Story (2017, Directed by David Lowery), Lust, Caution (2007, Directed by Ang Lee), Submarine (2010, Directed by Richard Ayoade), Inception (2010, Directed by Christopher Nolan), Jane Eyre (2011, Directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga), Her (2013, Directed by Spike Jonze), Carol (2015, Directed by Todd Haynes), From the Land of the Moon (2016, Directed by Nicole Garcia), Frantz (2016, Directed by François Ozon)

[raccoonfallsharder]

@hibatasblog shared this frame with me earlier because they’re a goddamn genius and a hero to the community and i am now off to read All-New Guardians of the Galaxy (2017-2019). full page & additional publication info/credit below the cut.

thanks, @hibatasblog ♡♡♡ you perfect honeycomb, you amazing little firefly, you golden dahlia, you absolute jewel

All-New Guardians of the Galaxy (2017-2019), Issue 8 by Duggan, Kuder, & To

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Where the Flowers Don't Grow - Chapter 11

Word Count: 5.5k oops

Warnings: basically everything you should be warned about with TLOU, honestly

Notes: no notes, just drama

Fic Masterlist

Ellie sat silently next to the dead deer, her rifle resting across her lap, the barrel aimed squarely at David. He was seated across from her with his hands stretched toward the modest fire he’d built—tiny flames trying their best to push back against the cold that pressed in on them from every direction.

The silence between them had stretched for what felt like forever. Ellie couldn’t be sure how much time had passed—one hour? Two? More? Her fingers were stiff from the cold, her legs cramped from staying in the same tense position, but she wasn’t letting her guard down. Not for a second. She hadn’t spoken since James had left, and David had seemed content to mirror her silence. Until now.

“You know…” he said, tone mild, almost casual. “You really shouldn’t be out here all on your own.”

Ellie glanced at him with an unbothered look that only teenagers are able to master. “From where I’m sitting,” she replied coolly, “you shouldn’t be out here on your own.”

He smiled faintly, “Fair enough.”

He was trying to get a read on her. That much was obvious. He looked at her like she was some puzzle he wanted to solve—like she was both threat and curiosity. It made her skin crawl.

“So what’s your name?” he asked.

She didn’t even flinch. Just the tiniest shake of her head. No chance in hell she was giving him that.

“It’s hard to trust strangers, I know,” he continued, voice gentle, persuasive. “But I honestly mean you no harm. And for what it’s worth, there’s room for you in our group, if you want.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes at him, her gut tightening. Whatever game this was, she wasn’t playing. Faith had taught her better. Joel would expect her to see through bullshit like this.

“You’re inviting me to your Hunger Club? Thanks.”

He didn’t react much, just nodded. “It’s true, we’re hungry… but we’re still here. I’m a decent man. Just tryin’ to take care of the people who rely on me.”

“You’re their leader?” she asked sceptically. He didn’t look like a leader. Not the way Maria or Tommy did—even if they insisted that they ran things by communism in Jackson.

“It wasn’t my choice,” David said, almost humbly. “It was theirs. But… yeah.”

“They chose to follow you.” Her voice was flat. “Is this some weird cult thing?”

“Uh… well, you sorta got me there,” he said, raising his eyebrows in amusement. “I am a preacher. But just pretty standard Bible stuff.”

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “The whole world ended, and you still believe that shit?”

He didn’t take offense. If anything, he looked thoughtful.

“I actually started believing after the world ended,” he said. “Before that, I was a teacher. Math. Taught kids about your age.”

“So you went from teacher to preacher because, what? It fucking rhymes?”

He chuckled—soft and self-deprecating. “Yeah, exactly.”

Something about the way he kept laughing, kept leaning in just a little too comfortably, rubbed Ellie the wrong way. His voice was calm, but his eyes… they watched her too closely. Like he saw something in her he wanted, or thought he could use.

“The truth is… I found God after the Apocalypse. Which is either the best time or the worst time to find Him—hard to say. But when the Pittsburgh QZ fell in 2017… Fireflies and FEDRA tore each other to pieces. I left with a few others. That’s how I ended up with our flock.”

“Long way from Pittsburgh,” Ellie muttered.

David nodded, letting out a long breath. “Yeah… We’d settle somewhere, and then raiders would come. So we’d move again. And as we wandered, we picked up new people. Until we ended up here.”

She didn’t respond. Her jaw clenched at the mention of raiders. She remembered what Faith had told her—how her mom had died in an ambush. The trauma of it still echoed in her voice when she spoke of it.

But Ellie didn’t feel sorry for David. Not even a little.

“Well, your luck had to run out sooner or later.”

“Luck?” David repeated with a quiet scoff. “There’s no such thing as luck. No… I believe everything happens for a reason. It does!” he added, when she rolled her eyes. “I can prove it to you.”

Ellie leaned back slightly, rifle steady in her grip. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s hear it.”

He shifted forward, elbows resting on his knees, voice softening like he was about to tell her a bedtime story.

“We didn’t expect this winter to be so cruel. Nothing will grow. Game’s been hard to find. So I sent four of our people to a nearby town to scavenge what they could. And…” His tone dropped, lower, darker. “Only three of them came back. The one that didn’t—he was a father. Had a daughter, just like you.”

Something in Ellie’s chest began to tighten. Her heart beat harder.

“And her dad was taken from her. Murdered. By this crazy man.”

David’s eyes didn’t blink. Didn’t waver.

“And get this: that crazy man… was traveling with two little girls.”

There it was.

The slow twist of the knife.

The kind smile on David’s face turned—distorted into something off-kilter, wrong. Not overtly menacing, but calculated. The kind of look someone wore when they thought they were in control of the situation.

“You see?” he murmured, slowly. “Everything happens for a reason.”

The shadows from the fire danced across his features, flickering like something alive. His smile stayed, but his eyes had lost any warmth, replaced by madness.

“James,” David said suddenly. “Lower the gun.”

Ellie jerked around, heart slamming in her chest. James had returned. He’d crept up behind her like a ghost, gun raised, aimed at her head.

Her breath caught. She sprang up instantly, turning her rifle on him.

“She is the one that killed Alec, isn’t she?” James asked, voice cold.

“She didn’t kill anybody,” David replied smoothly. Too smoothly. Like he was rehearsing lines he already knew the end of. “Lower the gun.”

James hesitated. Ellie saw the conflict on his face, but after a beat, he obeyed, slinging the rifle down.

Ellie didn’t lower hers.

“Did you bring the medicine?” she demanded.

“Yeah, but—”

“Throw it to her,” David interrupted. No change in his voice. No anger. Just that persistent, unsettling calm.

James dropped the small bundle to the ground between them. Ellie didn’t move for it right away.

“Back away!” she barked.

He did, and Ellie took a cautious step forward, grabbing the vials and syringe with trembling fingers. Penicillin. She had it. She could barely believe it.

Joel was going to be okay.

David’s voice cut in, low and coaxing: “I know you’re not with a group. You won’t survive for long out there. I can protect you.”

Her heart jumped. That tone—it was possessive. Almost tender, but in the way someone might speak to a stray dog they wanted to leash.

Ellie didn’t answer. She didn’t thank him. She didn’t hesitate.

She ran.

She bolted from the barn, medicine in hand, the deer forgotten. The cold slapped her in the face as she fled into the forest, branches tearing at her coat, snow crunching beneath her boots.

But she didn’t look back.

She just kept running.

(…)

As it got late, the shadows in the basement thickened. Faith sat hunched on the floor beside Joel, wringing her hands and biting her cracked lip. She kept glancing over at him, pale and still beneath the thin blanket. His breaths were too shallow, too slow. His fever hadn’t broken.

“Goddammit,” she whispered, pacing a tight line between the wall and the cot. “I should’ve gone. I should’ve gone and let her stay. What was I thinking?”

Joel didn’t answer—couldn’t. His face was damp with sweat, his wound swollen and angry red beneath the fabrics. Faith sank to her knees beside him, whispering apologies like prayers, over and over.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Joel. I should’ve gone, I shouldn’t have—”

A sharp slam echoed from above—an unmistakable sound of the front door being thrown open. Faith’s heart shot into her throat. She scrambled to her feet and lunged for Joel’s rifle, her fingers trembling as they closed around the grip.

She aimed it at the stairs, eyes wide and locked onto the creaking steps. Her breath caught.

Then—

“Faith! It’s me!” Ellie’s voice, breathless, cracked and too loud.

A second later, Ellie barreled down the stairs. Snow clung to her coat and hat, and her cheeks were flushed red from the cold and the sprint.

Faith nearly dropped the rifle, a choked sob escaping her as she lowered the weapon. “Ellie—Jesus Christ, where the hell were you?!” Her voice was a mix of anger, fear, and overwhelming relief. “I thought—I thought you –!”

“I had to—” Ellie’s words tangled together, and she fumbled to take off her gloves. “No time. Look.”

She yanked out the small brown bottle and a wrapped syringe, holding them out like they were holy. “Penicillin,” she breathed. “I got it. For him.”

Faith blinked, as if the bottle in Ellie’s hand might vanish if she stared too hard.

“You got—?”

“I’ll explain later,” Ellie cut in, stepping forward. “Please. Help me give it to him.”

Faith snapped into motion, her instincts as steady as her heart was racing. She took the medicine with both hands and dropped to her knees beside Joel again, pulling the covers away and lifting the part of his shirt covering his wound.

“It’s not sterile,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone, “but I don’t give a shit right now.”

She filled the syringe, pushing out the air bubbles with a shaky thumb. Her gaze darted up to Joel’s face—still sweating, still out cold.

Faith grit her teeth and slid the needle in right to his wound, where he needed it most, injecting the penicillin slowly, carefully. Joel twitched, his body reacting even through the fever.

Ellie flinched. “Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” Faith said, voice steady now despite the storm of emotions building inside her. “We’ll… We’ll do another dose in a few hours. Maybe in the morning we’ll do more. I don’t—” Her voice broke for a second, and she bit the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know how much he will need. I also don’t know how much of this is too much. But if we give him too little… it won’t work at all.” she sighed, defeatedly. “But that’s all we can do for now.”

Ellie looked at Joel, then at Faith. “He’s gonna make it, right?”

Faith didn’t answer immediately. She just stared at Joel’s face, pale and drawn, and felt the faintest flicker of hope crack through the fear.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But this is the first time I’ve had hope in days.”

She reached out, brushing damp hair from Joel’s forehead with a touch far gentler than her words. Ellie sat back, arms wrapped tightly around herself, finally letting herself breathe.

“How did you even get this?” Faith glanced at Ellie, her eyebrows frowning deeply.

Ellie hesitated.

She could still see David’s face in her mind—calm, polite, disturbingly collected as he offered her shelter, his voice low when he mentioned the men from his group. One of them didn’t come back, he’d said. He was murdered by this crazy man who was travelling with two little girls.

Joel.

Joel had killed him. And the others—David’s people—were probably looking for the ones responsible. For Joel.

She swallowed hard.

But… they hadn’t followed her. She was sure of it. She’d kept off the main path, running through the forest as fast as she could, and she’s even circled the neighbourhood from a different direction before returning to the house. It had only taken a couple hours to get back. No way anyone had tracked her, not in this snow.

They didn’t see where I went. They don’t know where we’re staying. She repeated it to herself like a shield, like a spell. They won’t find us. I was fast. We’re okay.

Faith had said this was the first time she’d had hope in days. Ellie couldn’t ruin that.

She didn’t know for sure if they were safe, but she needed to believe it. For the three of them.

“I found it in a house.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “Old place. Further out. That’s what took me so long.”

Faith turned toward her slowly, eyes searching her face, but didn’t say anything right away.

“I didn’t hunt anything,” Ellie added, trying to keep her voice light. “So… I guess you’re still the better hunter.”

Faith huffed a sound somewhere between a scoff and a breathless laugh. “Damn right I am.”

Ellie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Joel was still sweating and shivering, cold under the thin blanket.

“Come on, lay down next to him,” Faith instructed, curling up on Joel’s right side again, as she’d done in the previous hours. She held onto his hand tightly. “He needs the warmth.”

Ellie lay on her side to Joel’s left, her head resting on his shoulder as she got closer to him.

We’re okay, Ellie told herself again, as she closed her eyes. Tomorrow everything will be okay.

They stayed like that for the next few hours, the rush from getting the penicillin wearing off as they rested, with Joel’s head slowly turning to rest against Ellie’s, and his hand gripping Faith’s back faintly.

(…)

The early morning light slanted in through the small basement windows, soft and golden, warmer than it had been in days. It painted long stripes across the concrete floor and the edge of the cot, bathing the room in a hush that felt almost sacred.

Faith stirred slowly, her limbs stiff from where she’d curled up beside Joel. One arm was draped across his chest, her forehead resting near his shoulder, as if even in sleep she’d refused to let him go. Her cheek was pressed to the blanket, and as she blinked the sleep from her eyes, for a moment she wasn’t in a basement, wasn’t clutching to hope by her fingernails.

She was dreaming of Jackson.

In her dream, the three of them were standing in front of a small house at the edge of the town. The porch sagged. The paint was peeling. But the sky overhead was clear, and Ellie was laughing, her hair pulled back in a ponytail as usual as she argued with Joel about where the rocking chairs he’d built for the porch should go. Faith held a can of white paint, her arms speckled with it, and Joel stood beside her with a toolbox in one hand and a crooked smile on his face.

The house had needed everything—new windows, a patched roof, a lot of love—but it was theirs. Faith had never felt more at peace. Joel had said something low and teasing, brushing dust from her nose, and she’d turned to tell him off with a smirk—

—and woke to the familiar smell of damp basement air and medicine.

But Joel was warm beside her. Steady. She lifted her head slowly, heart suddenly pounding for a different reason. Her palm slid to his forehead.

Cool.

Her breath caught. She touched his cheek—almost no sweat.

“Holy shit,” she whispered.

She sat up, heart fluttering as she laid the back of her hand against his skin again, just to be sure. “No fever…” she murmured, almost disbelieving. “No fever.”

He didn’t stir, not yet. But his breathing was easier. Softer. The angry flush in his skin was easing, and the heat from the infection wasn’t raging anymore.

Faith let out a trembling breath and gave a watery smile. She pressed her hand briefly over her mouth, overwhelmed.

Ellie’s sleepy voice came from across the room. “Is he…?”

Faith looked up. Ellie was blinking awake on the floor, her hair messy, and sleep still clinging to her eyelids.

Faith nodded. “His fever’s gone.”

Ellie scrambled to her feet, sitting up in a flash. Her eyes locked on Joel, scanning his face, his chest, his wound.

“It looks… better, right?” she asked, barely daring to hope.

Faith pulled the blanket back and gently peeled away the cloth over his wound. It was still red, still swollen—but the inflammation was starting to recede. The pus was gone, and the area around it wasn’t as angry-looking as before.

“It’s still not good,” Faith said carefully, “but yeah. It’s better. It’s working.”

Ellie grinned, wide and real, and let out a breath that shook. “We’re actually doing it,” she whispered.

“We are,” Faith said.

They worked together in silence, Ellie unwrapping the supplies while Faith prepped the second dose of penicillin. The moment was careful, practiced now. Ellie held Joel’s shoulder steady, and Faith guided the syringe into the muscle near the wound, injecting the medication slowly.

Joel flinched, but didn’t wake.

Still, Faith found herself smiling as she rubbed his arm gently afterward. “Come on, Joel,” she whispered. “We’re waiting on you.”

Ellie sat back, watching him. For the first time in days, the basement no longer felt like a tomb.

They had breakfast, sharing some of the stale crackers left in their packs. They didn’t say much at first—just chewed and breathed and kept glancing back at Joel like he might vanish if they looked away too long.

Faith took a sip from her canteen and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’ll head out later,” she said. “We’re still low on food. And I want to see if I can find something dry enough to burn. Maybe even some proper firewood if I get lucky.”

Ellie looked up, brow furrowed. A flash of David’s face crossed her mind. He was still out there, somewhere… Hopefully a long way away. “You sure you wanna go today? I mean, maybe you should rest a little more too.”

“I’m fine,” Faith said. She leaned back, stretching out her legs. “Besides, I don’t want to push our luck. We’ve got a window right now—Joel’s stable, the weather isn’t total shit, and there’s good daylight. Gotta use it.”

Ellie nodded slowly, her fingers picking at the fraying seam of her sleeve. “Yeah. Okay. Just… be careful.”

“I will.” Faith gave her a small smile. “I always am.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “You say that, and then you go running off into a blizzard with one bullet left and no gloves.”

“I had gloves. I just—lost one.”

“That’s not better.”

Faith snorted. “Fine. I’ll double-check my gloves this time. Happy?”

Ellie smirked. “Ecstatic.”

They sat there a moment longer in the quiet warmth of the sunlit basement. It felt strange—good strange—to be talking like this again. Like things might not fall apart the second they let their guard down.

Faith glanced toward the stairs. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was thinking I’d head up to the garage,” Ellie said. “Give the horses some water. They’re probably thirsty as hell.”

Faith blinked. “You mean collect more ice and hope it melts in the bucket fast enough?”

Ellie shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Sounds like a party.”

“Oh yeah,” Ellie said, pushing herself to her feet with a groan. “Bucket of ice and two grumpy horses. Living the dream.”

Faith chuckled. “Hey, if you run into any dry sticks or paper up there, grab it. Anything we can use for kindling.”

“Got it. Operation Freezing Horse Slush is a go.”

“Catchy.”

Ellie grinned and headed for the stairs, boots crunching lightly on the basement floor.

Faith watched her go, then turned her eyes back to Joel. She reached down and brushed a piece of hair from his forehead, her smile softening again.

“Keep holding on,” she murmured. “We’re almost there.”

(…)

“You’re thirsty, huh?”

Ellie held the bucket up to one of the horses, who immediately began nosing through the packed snow and ice with his lips, crunching what he could manage. The other came up behind, nudging at the rim of the bucket impatiently, and Ellie laughed under her breath.

“Okay, okay. One at a time, you greedy asshole.”

She set the bucket down between them, giving each a quick pat on the neck. Their fur was damp with sweat that had frozen in the night, and she brushed her gloved hand gently along the mare’s muzzle. Her fingers ached from the cold, but it was manageable.

Ellie had cracked open the garage’s door to let some sun spill in. Now it lit the cement floor, catching on the glint of frost in the corners and melting the ice near the door into slow, dripping puddles. She stepped into the light, tilting her face up.

The sunlight kissed her cheeks, warm enough to sting. She closed her eyes for a second and breathed it in.

Just a few more days. That’s what she kept telling herself.

That Joel would be strong enough to move.

That they could leave.

That David and his people wouldn’t find them before that.

She still hadn’t told Faith the truth—hadn’t told her about David or James, or what they'd said about Joel being the man who killed one of their own. She didn’t want to. Not yet.

Faith had looked hopeful again for the first time in days. Her smile had been real this morning.

And Ellie couldn’t bring herself to take that away.

So she’d lied. Kept it casual about the penicillin. Focused on giving Joel the medicine.

But none of that felt casual now. Not really.

Because even now, standing in the sunlight, feeling the heat of it on her face, her gut twisted.

David’s voice echoed in her memory: That crazy man was traveling with a two little girls.

Joel had killed one of his men. Which meant David had a reason to come looking. A good one.

She swallowed and opened her eyes.

A sudden flutter of motion caught her attention—sharp and fast. A flock of birds burst out of the treetops beyond the neighbourhood’s edge, wheeling high into the sky, scattering in a jagged formation as they fled west.

Ellie froze.

Her pulse spiked. Her eyes locked on the trees.

That wasn’t nothing.

Birds didn’t just do that unless something spooked them. Not like that. Not all at once.

She didn’t hear anything yet. Not footsteps, not shouting, not horses.

But she knew.

Something’s coming.

The words had barely finished forming in her mind before Ellie was moving. She didn’t go back inside—not yet. Not until she was sure.

She broke into a run, boots crunching over the snow-packed driveway. Her breath came in short bursts, clouding the air in front of her as she crossed the street, heart hammering louder than her footfalls.

She kept her head down, shoulders hunched. The sun was rising higher, gleaming off the snowbanks and the icicles dangling from rooftops. The houses were silent. Empty. It was too quiet.

The birds were long gone now—just specks in the pale winter sky. But they’d come from that direction.

She ducked behind an old wooden fence, its slats rotted and bent with time. The wood creaked faintly beneath her glove as she crouched low, peering through a gap worn smooth by wind and years.

Her breath caught.

Down the street—maybe four, five houses away—movement.

A group of men trudging slowly through the snow.

Four of them. Maybe five. Hard to tell.

They weren’t shouting. Weren’t talking, either. These weren’t scavengers just looking for junk. Their pace was slow, deliberate. They carried rifles. One of them—a man with a blue coat—walked a little ahead of the rest, like a leader.

Ellie couldn’t see his face.

But her stomach dropped anyway.

David.

Ellie’s fingers curled into fists. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Her mind raced.

Joel. Faith.

Ellie turned, snow scattering behind her as she sprinted back across the street, dodging behind trees and parked, half-buried cars, every breath burning in her lungs as she made it back into the house.

(…)

Faith sat on the edge of the cot, gently dabbing Joel’s lips with a rag soaked in water. It wasn’t much, but his throat had to be dry after days of fever, and she’d been talking to him the whole time, her voice quiet and steady.

“You’re doing good, Joel,” she murmured. “You’re hangin’ on like the stubborn cowboy I know you are.”

His eyelids fluttered, just for a moment, then again—slight, but unmistakable.

Faith smiled, her heart tugging painfully in her chest. “You’re listening, huh?” she whispered, brushing a bit of damp hair from his brow. “Maybe Ellie can tell you some puns to cheer ya’ up, what do you think?”

Joel’s chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths. He didn’t speak, but there was something in the way his brow twitched, his fingers shifting slightly beneath the blanket.

Faith exhaled shakily, the moment almost too tender to be real. She felt a flicker of something warm—something like hope.

Then—

The basement door slammed open.

Faith jolted, the rag slipping from her fingers. Her heart jumped into her throat.

Ellie burst down the stairs like lightning, boots thudding, her cheeks flushed red from the cold and panic blazing in her eyes.

“Faith!” she shouted, out of breath. “We have to go! Now!”

“What?!” Faith stood, already moving toward her. “What happened?!”

Ellie skidded to a stop, hands trembling, struggling to speak fast enough. “I lied, okay?! About the penicillin—I didn’t find it in some abandoned house.”

Faith stared at her. “What do you mean you lied?”

“I’m sorry, okay? I traded for it. With two men,” Ellie said, her voice tight. “I shot a deer in the forest and when I found it I met them. Their leader is a guy named David. They were from this group... the same group as that guy Joel killed. The guy who stabbed him.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

Faith paled. “You—what?”

“They knew, Faith. David knew. He said their guy never came back because a man traveling with two girls murdered him.” Ellie’s voice cracked on the word. “That’s what he said. That’s Joel. That’s us.”

Faith’s mouth went dry.

“They’re out there. Now. I saw them coming—five, maybe more, heading toward this neighbourhood, checking houses. They’re looking for us. For him.”

For a split second, the basement was completely still—then Faith moved.

She rushed back to Joel’s side, checking him instinctively, even though she already knew—he couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, not yet.

“Fuck,” she breathed, heart hammering in her chest.

Ellie nodded fiercely. “We can’t let them find him. We’ll draw them off—get them to follow us.”

Faith’s gaze flicked toward the cot. Joel lay still, unaware of the storm coming down on them. Her jaw clenched.

“Okay,” she said, steadying herself. “We make them look the wrong way.”

She scrambled their stuff together as Ellie knelt down next to Joel, clapping on his cheeks repeatedly to get his attention.

“Joel, wake up! Wake the fuck up!” his eyelids fluttered open again, staying like that for a few seconds, managing to focus on Ellie. “Joel don’t fall asleep!”

Faith pulled on her backpack, handing Ellie one of her knives for Joel.

“Look at me, look at me!” Ellie wrapped his hands around the knives’ handle firmly as she spoke to him. “There are men coming, okay? We’re gonna lead them away from you, but if anybody makes it down here, you fucking kill them, you got it?”

“Joel, do not fall asleep!”

He was barely awake. But they didn’t have more time. They had to leave before they reached the house, or they’d find them.

Upstairs, they blocked the basement’s door moving some old furniture to hide it in case they still got to the house.

They went to get the horses next. Backpacks and hats on, coats zipped up and gloves on, each girl got one of the horses’ reins and led them outside, closing the garage’s door quickly behind them so no one would know where they’d been hiding at.

“Come on, get on the horse!”

Faith swung up into the saddle, the leather creaking under her weight. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the reins, the cold biting through her gloves, but her eyes were sharp now—focused. Ellie was already mounted beside her, jaw clenched, her breath fogging in the freezing air.

Ellie gave a short whistle and nudged her horse into motion, leading the way out of the backyard and down the snowy side street. The horses' hooves crunched through the thin layer of ice coating the pavement, leaving tracks behind them, but it didn’t matter. That was the point.

They were bait.

Faith’s pulse thudded in her ears as she followed, her eyes scanning the rooftops, the trees, every shadow that moved. Ellie knew where they were. Knew where they were heading.

They rode past a burned-out sedan, then a row of abandoned mailboxes, their metal doors hanging open like gaping mouths. Snow glinted like shards of glass along the street. The silence of the neighbourhood pressed in like a held breath.

Then Ellie pulled back on her reins, Faith following her gaze.

Just ahead down the street, six men were moving through the snow—armed and alert. They walked in formation, the crunch of their boots muffled by the snow, their heads swivelling, checking houses, yards, windows.

Faith swallowed hard.

Ellie looked at her. Just a glance. Then nudged her horse forward until they were at the edge of the street behind the group.

She stood in her stirrups.

“HEY, MOTHERFUCKERS!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Every head snapped around.

Faith fired once, the shot ringing out like thunder as she aimed high and blasted a hole through the air, straight into the sky.

The group of men froze for a beat—just long enough for their confusion to twist into recognition.

One of them—tall, wiry, with a dark jacket and a patchy beard—stepped forward, pointing.

“It’s them!”

Ellie didn’t wait for anything else.

“Go!” she shouted, kicking her heels into her horse’s sides.

The animal surged forward and Faith followed instantly, adrenaline pumping like fire through her chest as hooves pounded against the street, cutting a trail through snow and slush and fear.

Then another voice, calm but loud, cut through the chaos:

“ALIVE!” he bellowed. Ellie recognized him: David.

Behind them, men shouted. Footsteps scrambled. Someone fired a shot into the air—but no one was aiming to kill. Not yet.

They thundered through the neighborhood, snow spraying up from under hooves as they rode hard, cutting through backstreets and alleys, hearts racing louder than the wind.

Behind them, the men gave chase—shouts, boots pounding. David and his men were on their heels.

Faith glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowing as she spotted the figures closing in. “Faster!” she called over her shoulder, urging her horse forward.

Ellie clung to her reins a few strides behind now, teeth clenched, her jaw aching from tension. Her horse's breath steamed in thick clouds as it pounded after Faith's, its muscles straining with each leap over snowbanks and debris.

They turned a sharp corner, sliding through slush—

BANG!

A shot rang out from the woods on the side of the road.

Faith’s heart lurched.

“No—!”

The bullet struck with a sickening crack. Ellie’s horse let out a terrible sound, a strangled, pained whinny—and then it collapsed mid-gallop, front legs buckling beneath it.

Ellie was thrown forward.

She hit the ground hard, her body slamming into the snow-covered path with a dull thud. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, and for a moment, she couldn’t move—eyes wide, ears ringing, the world spinning around her.

“ELLIE!”

Faith pulled hard on her reins, skidding her horse to a stop before leaping off and sprinting to the younger girl’s side, her instincts fully kicking in. She ran through the snow, arms reaching for her.

“Ellie!”

Ellie blinked, dazed. “Faith–” she mumbled weakly, the world spinning around her.

“I’m here! I got you, I’m here!”

Faith’s fingers gripped her shoulders, trying to pull her up to her knees when—

Pain exploded in Faith’s leg.

It didn’t hit square on—but it was damn close. The bullet clipped her, slicing along the side of her thigh like a red-hot knife. Her leg gave out immediately, pain screaming up through muscle and nerves, her pants already soaked in blood.

“FUCK—!” Faith grit her teeth, trying to move, to crawl, but her leg refused to bear weight. Still, she reached for her rifle—

Too slow.

A shadow loomed above her.

And then—

The butt of a rifle slammed into the side of her head.

White-hot stars burst behind her eyes.

The last thing Faith saw was Ellie’s frightened face, and men in dark coats approaching with guns raised as she felt her own blood, warm and thick running down the side of her face.

“Ellie–” she whispered, stretching her arms out to the girl.

Then everything went black.

And Ellie, dazed and slumped in the snow, faded from consciousness beside her.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @kitdjarin1@christinamadsen@abtjudex@hongjoong-titties@cokoladasljesnjakom@puppi-sonnenschein@elisha-chloe@wwefan2002

[fawniswriting]

♡ 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 ♡

rules: in a new post, post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell us about it.

Thank you so much my lovely @artficlly for tagging me!!! This was so fun to do <3 I haven't made much progress with my wip these last couple of weeks bcs of how stressful my job has been getting lol but I'd love to talk more about some of these pieces if anyone is interested 🩷

faithfully yours — historical royal au series with knight!bucky and princess!reader. currently working on chapter 04 (almost done), chapter 05 (halfway done), and chapter 06 (just started)

the love policy — modern au series with ceo!reader and assistant!bucky

white picket fence — bucky x f!reader miniseries

apricity — bucky x stark!reader (reader is tony's adopted daughter). avengers tower fic with og avengers

beauty of bucharest — f!reader x cw!bucky (this one I've had in my wip for a loongggg time. I first started writing this in 2016-2017 after civil war came out, and it has been redrafted and rewritten numerous times over the years)

beauty of brooklyn — supposed to be the sequel for beauty of bucharest if there's a demand for it lol

do I know you? — bucky x f!reader. multiverse themes

in the spotlight — modern au actor!bucky x actress!reader

may I have this dance? — husband!bucky x wife!reader

table for two, please — bucky x gn!reader

unfortunately fortunate — college!au with athlete!bucky x gn!reader

untitled — 1940s bucky x celestial being reader

untitled — modern au (?) featuring fwb!bucky x f!reader

untitled — thunderbolts fic!!! bucky x f!reader featuring secret wife trope (aka one of my most favorite tropes everrr)

I need to learn how to start finishing my wip and stop coming up with new ideas before the last one is even done lmaooo

No pressure tags! @iamthatonefangirl @flowersforbucky and anyone else who would like to participate 💞

Line divider by @firefly-graphics

[smoulderingocean]

Sorry, what is the story with the lamp?

Hey! It's a long-standing joke among the Elder Osblaines (especially the ones that did edits like gifs, fanvids, and screencaps) that Nick's apartment was so dark and hard to see things in that it was lit by varying terrible light sources such as fireflies, glow sticks, and the fridge.

I even made a silly post about it for Nick Blaine Appreciation Week back in 2019.

I used to edit screecaps (rip Max Minghella fansite that provided them) and omg Nick's apartment was filmed and edited so dark that it took maxing out the white balance to see anything. Sometimes I had to run it through the white balance twice!

This whole tv show is like that lol, but Nick's apartment was especially bad as he'd often have the washroom light on for some reason and nothing else. (Actually as an anxious mess myself, I find the dark soothing, so for Nick, I get it. But as a telly viewer, please give the man a lamp!) 1x08 is the worst scene for it.

So the fact that they had him have a bedside lamp tickled me specifically haha. It's like they put it there just for me!

[lizardsaredinosaurs]

Paging the mothership—blink-blink-blink-glooow

Cypress Firefly (Photuris walldoxeyi)

Cypress swamps in the US South

Status: Vulnerable

Threats: specialized habitat, light pollution

------

These fireflies were only recently described and classified in 2017, proving there are still species we don't even know about right under our noses! They have a distinctive light pattern.

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[april-is]

April 12, 2024: A Small Psalm, Catherine Wing

A Small Psalm Catherine Wing

Sorrow be gone, be a goner, be forsooth un-sooth, make like a suit and beat it, vamoose from the heavy heavy, be out from under the night's crawlspace, call not for another stone, more weight more weight, be extinguished, extinguish, the dark, that which is deep and hollow, that which presses from all sides, that which squeezes your heart into an artichoke-heart jar and forbids it breathe, that which is measured by an unbalanced scale, banish the broken, the unfixable, the shattered, the cried-over, the cursed, the cursers, the curses— curse them, the stone from the stone fruit, let it be fruit, the pit from the pitted, the pock from the pocked, the rot from the rotten, tarry not at the door, jam not the door's jamb, don't look back, throw nothing over your shoulder, not a word, not a word's edge, vowel, consonant, but run out, run out like the end of a cold wind, end of season, and in me be replaced with a breath of light, a jack-o'-lantern, a flood lamp or fuse box, a simple match or I would even take a turn signal, traffic light, if it would beat beat and flash flood like the moon at high tide, let it, let it, let it flare like the firefly, let it spark and flash, kindle and smoke, let it twilight and sunlight, and sunlight and moonlight, and when it is done with its lighting let it fly, will'-o-the-wisp, to heaven.

--

Also: + you can’t be a star in the sky without holy fire, Frank X. Gaspar + Untitled [I closed the book and changed my life], Bruce Smith

Today in:

2023: How to Do Absolutely Nothing, Barbara Kingsolver 2022: Miss you. Would like to take a walk with you., Gabrielle Calvocoressi 2021: I saw Emmett Till this week at the grocery store, Eve L. Ewing 2020: Day Beginning with Seeing the International Space Station And a Full Moon Over the Gulf of Mexico and All its Invisible Fishes, Jane Hirshfield 2019: Flores Woman, Tracy K. Smith 2018: The Universe as Primal Scream, Tracy K. Smith 2017: Soul, David Ferry 2016: Turkeys, Galway Kinnell 2015: He Said Turn Here, Dean Young 2014: I Don’t Miss It, Tracy K. Smith 2013: Hotel Orpheus, Jason Myers 2012: Emily Dickinson’s To-Do List, Andrea Carlisle 2011: Now That I Am in Madrid and Can Think, Frank O’Hara 2010: The Impossible Marriage, Donald Hall 2009: The Rider, Naomi Shihab Nye 2008: from Homage to Mistress Bradstreet, John Berryman 2007: This Heavy Craft, P.K. Page 2006: Late Ripeness, Czeslaw Milosz 2005: A Martian Sends A Postcard Home, Craig Raine

[moomeecore]

its g4's time for unusual merchandise (practical things like furniture, lamps, and dishware etc) compilation! honestly they cant compete with generation 1 for quality but they still made some fun stuff. only licensed merch counts!

dollar tree kitchen rag + a dry erase board (also from dollar tree)

these walmart exclusive hair brushes - g4 had some other hairbrushes too but these remind me more of g1's weirdness

mlp trycile from 2014, toys-r-us exclusive

actual bicycles, unsure of year or producer etc

tabletop LED "fashion lamp" from 2014

mlp figure lamps from 2017! now THIS is some g1 merch energy!!

once again, we're finally living up to g1's legacy! an alarm clock! from toys 'r us - can't find a ton of info abt this one, including the year

MLP PINATAS. BROUGHT BACK INSTANT MEMORIES. I HAD THE PINKIE PIE ONE AS A KID FOR A MLP THEMED BDAY PARTYY

uk exclusive TABLE AND CHAIR SET??? from 2016

ok, i didnt put the plates and mugs for g1 in their compilation, but thats bc theres a TON of them. g4 on the other hand mostly made disposable dishware. so they get a mug showcase. not sure abt the first set but the dashie one is from 2014. theres a whole lotta unoffical mlp mugs but these ones at least are official/liscensed

gingerbread house set sold at micheals

this 8 inch tall singing karaoke machine rainbow dash, who i have seen about one billion listings for on ebay and mercari - from 2018

pinkie pie music box / jewlery box - 2014

this sounds so fake. but . fishing kit, manufactured by 'lil anglers'

toothbrushes by firefly + origel training toothpaste

[shampoovevo]

Tag game i have been tag gamed by @doppelgangerleaverite

Rules: tag 10 people you want to get to know better

Last song: Hellborne Shove - Impossible by Walkways

Last movie: Blame! (2017) this was several months ago we don't watch many movies

Last TV show: currently rewatching Firefly bc my wife hasn't seen it. Last show I finished was Arcane S2

Last book: Most recently finished was The Sunlit Man by Brandon Sanderson. Currently on Father Of The Mountain by Torsten Weitze.

Sweet/savory/spicy: Savory or spicy depending on the day

Relationship status: Married ❤️

Last thing I googled: top movies 2005 (for a stupid Facebook meme my mom shared in the family groupchat)

Looking forward to: Getting started building a coffee table I designed for my sister and BIL. Also found out Dune pt. 2 is on Netflix so looking forward to watching that too.

Current obsession: probably would have to say furniture building and design just based on the sheer proportion of free thought that it takes up. That's a long term hobby tho. Current short term obsession probably pre-gunpowder battlefield tactics

Tagging beloved mutuals: @awoo-ga @coloredgayngels @beemovieerotica @enjoylentgreen @hocuschlocus @literally-just-a-blog @leave-me-alone-doctor @roman-noodlezz @megalynnan @el-patito-de-los-ojos-triste