#give me ceasefire or give me death

[suikasweetheart]

Hind's Hall

Woah! Yeah, the people, they won't leave What is threatenin’ about divesting and wanting peace? The problem isn't the protests, it’s what they're protesting It goes against what our country is funding (Hey) Block the barricade until Palestine is free (Hey) Block the barricade until Palestine is free When I was seven, I learned a lesson from Cube and Eazy-E What was it again? Oh yeah, f**k the police (Woo)

Actors in badges protecting property And a system that was designed by white supremacy (Brrt) But the people are in the streets You can pay off Meta, you can't pay off me Politicians who serve by any means AIPAC, CUFI, and all the companies You see, we sell fear around the land of the free But this generation here is about to cut the strings You can ban TikTok, take us out the algorithm But it's too late, we've seen the truth, we bear witness Seen the rubble, the buildings, the mothers and the children And all the men that you murdered and then we see how you spin it Who gets the right to defend and who gets the right of resistance Has always been about dollars and the color of your pigment, but White supremacy is finally on blast Screaming "Free Palestine" ’til they’re home at last (Woo)

We see the lies in them, claiming it’s antisemitic to be anti-Zionist I've seen Jewish brothers and sisters out there and riding in Solidarity and screaming "Free Palestine" with them Organizin’, unlearning and finally cutting ties with A state that's gotta rely on an apartheid system to uphold an occupying violent History been repeating for the last seventy-five The Nakba never ended, the colonizer lied (Woo) If students in tents posted on the lawn Occupying the quad is really against the law And a reason to call in the police and their squad Where does genocide land in your definition, huh? (Hey; hey) Destroying every college in Gaza and every mosque Pushing everyone into Rafah and dropping bombs The blood is on your hands, Biden, we can see it all And f**k no, I'm not voting for you in the fall (Woo) Undecided, you can't twist the truth, the people out here united Never be defeated when freedom's on the horizon Yet the music industry's quiet, complicit in their platform of silence (Hey, woo)

What happened to the artist? What do you got to say? If I was on a label, you could drop me today I'd be fine with it 'cause the heart fed my page I want a ceasefire, f**k a response from Drake (Woo) What you willing to risk? What you willing to give? What if you were in Gaza? What if those were your kids? If the West was pretending that you didn't exist You'd want the world to stand up and the students finally did, let's get it (Woo)

[thursdaysbagman]

.

[edenfenixblogs]

I was having a rough night so I went to my favorite funny website IsMercuryInRetrograde.com

I’m not a huge believer in astrology, but the website only has two pages:

If it’s in retrograde it says yes, which feels weirdly validating.

If it’s not in retrograde it just says “No, something else must be bumming you out,” which always gives me a little chuckle.

Fun silly website. Yay.

Except this time

YES. SOMETHING ELSE IS BUMMING ME OUT.

The fact that unless I lock myself in a room with only pre-written or pre-recorded material that I’ve already read or watched and know is safe I CANNOT GO TWELVE FUCKING HOURS WITHOUT HEARING ABOUT THIS FUCKING WAR.

It’s killing me. There are no breaks. I open any website or social media app and it’s an immediate bombardment of info about the war. I go watch a YouTube video and then there’s a fundraiser at the end.

I flip through channels and see news about an antisemitic attack or a bombing in Gaza or Rafah.

I leave notifications on and get a text from a friend who sees a “rape is resistance” sticker on her walk home from school.

I go to look for pride merch and see watermelon merch mixed in as if war is some kind of gay accessory. I look through a fandom tag and see cartoon characters in a kids cartoon drawn with Palestinian flags.

It’s fucking endless. It’s insane. I just wanted a few days without having to think about all of it so I could recharge and I haven’t even been able to go a continuous 12 hour stretch without something or someone shoving the whole thing in my face.

It’s not healthy to live like this. I already have PTSD. And I’m trying with all my might not to retreat fully within myself but this is fucking killing me.

And I am someone who is pro peace and pro ceasefire and pro Palestinian welfare and anti-Likud but also anti-antisemitism. I do nothing but promote interfaith and intercultural organizations devoted to fostering peace. I want this war over.

And yet I’m fucking stuck in this perpetual hellhole of awful news and constant imagery about war and death and antisemitism and Palestinian suffering. And it’s too much. Why can’t I even go 12 hours. It’s killing me.

The fucking mercury in retrograde website‽ YES. SOMETHING ELSE IS BUMMING ME OUT AND ITS YOU.

[qqueenofhades]

So I keep seeing people play the "Harris is a Cop, so I'm not voting for her because ACAB" card, and not even pointing out that she was a DA/Prosecutor rather than an actual cop seems to change their minds - as far as they're concerned, working with cops in any capacity makes you a cop. Do you happen to have anything that'd make for a good counterpoint to this argument (or, at the very least, something to make those of us who still plan on voting for her despite our dim views on Law Enforcement not feel so bad about it)?

....Not feel so bad about it?

First of all: these are laughably, incredibly unbelievably unserious people, and frankly, my first advice would be NOT to bother trying to engage with them at all, because there is nothing whatsoever they will ever accept in the way of logical proof to change their minds. First it was "you can't ask me to vote for Biden specifically because of [insert issue here.]" This changed a lot, from Roe getting overturned by the corrupt SCOTUS, to the train strike (hey anyone remember that?) to student loan forgiveness and then had settled firmly on Gaza. So now, lo and behold, they're given exactly what they asked for: a new younger candidate who is not Biden and explicitly more progressive on the Gaza issue (Harris was the first member of the administration to openly call for a ceasefire). So they turn their noses up, rush to their favorite 2020 disinformation founts that were first spouted when they were trying to sabotage her in favor of Bernie (who endorsed Biden pretty strongly before he dropped out), flirt with Jill "Actual Agent of Putin" Stein, and other equally expected and equally bullshit maneuvers. Lololololololol online leftists. Never change, or something.

That said: because their minds are so set that they will never vote for any Democrat ever, you can't really give them any logical information to separate them from this conclusion. I don't have the links on hand, but etc Google and Wikipedia are free: Harris's tenure as district attorney and California AG was progressive even by modern standards, and it was happening in the early 2000s: she refused to prosecute for low-level weed offenses, pushed for harder sentences for assault weapons, performed gay marriages LONG before it was legal even in San Freaking Francisco, refused to seek the death penalty, worked with restorative justice programs, etc. This was after she was a first-generation American child of brown immigrants who took advantage of equal-opportunity education programs to go to law school, and her parents were already high-achieving academics (one a cancer researcher from India and one an economics professor from Jamaica). Sure sure, she definitely seems exactly like Derek Chauvin to me. Critical thinking is great! #VoteJillStein! A literal puppet of Putin and unabashed Assad fangirl is definitely the pro-peace morally correct option here!*

In other words, the morons do not give a single shit about factual reflections of Kamala's record. They do not care about whether her time as a district attorney was progressive (it was) and whether she was actually a cop (she wasn't). They're so wedded at the hip to their braindead disinformation propaganda that now we're going to see the excuses change at lightspeed from why they can't vote for Biden specifically to why they can't vote for Harris specifically. None of it will be remotely tethered to reality and all of it will be in extreme and obvious bad faith. As I said, there are plenty of persuadable voters elsewhere who HAVE been energized by her elevation to candidacy. If you are indeed interested in winning voters to her side (as opposed to having to find reasons to justify yourself to the All Voting Is Evil crowd who will never listen to or believe you anyway), I suspect your time would be better spent elsewhere, and outside the echo-chamber leftist social media space in general.

Aside from that, I have gotten a few hand-wringy asks about Kamala and the election overall, and I gotta say, I am not going to waste my time and effort replying to them. We have about 100 days to win this election or become a fascist dictatorship. We are already in uncharted territory, but the replacement of Biden with Harris went UNIMAGINABLY smoothly, far, far more than anyone (including me) ever expected. It reminds me of the presto-chango that the French center, left, and center-left parties pulled off to replace candidates, IN FIVE DAYS, to better position themselves to defeat the fascists. Compared to that, three and a half months is a cakewalk, but we still absolutely do not, DO NOT, have time to sit around worrying and hand-wringing about this or that hypothetical Bad Thing. It deeply unsurprises me to hear that US Online Leftists are still throwing snits and pitching their toys out of the pram rather than getting on board, but the rest of us don't have any time to waste and need to apply our energy to where it will be best put to use. So yes.

*extreme, extreme sarcasm alert

[luckybyler]

This was a reply to someone else, but I'm making this its own post because so many people are being so evil right now re: Noah Schnapp.

You can find other, longer explanations with history and all, but all the places I've seen more or less agree with this:

So you're all calling people to cancel Noah because he's in favor of a Jewish nation in what is today Israel. Which is a perfectly reasonable, decent and educated opinion to have, especially when you, to use a trendy term, "educate yourself" and find out why the state of Israel was created.

11000 dead Palestinians, half of them children

According to Hamas. Don't forget that, ever. They're the current, official government of Gaza, thus they're the ones who give numbers. This means that the real number could be 10, 1 million, anything in between. What I've read is that they probably give more of less accurate total numbers. What they fail to do, however, is distinguish between Hamas militants and civilians, and beteween civilians killed by IDF strikes, civilians killed by failed Hamas or Palestininan Islamic Jihad's rockets (which happens a lot), and Palestinians murdered by Hamas/PIJ (which also happens, a whole damn lot). They also don't specify how many civilians they have prevented or tried to prevent from evacuating or receiving aid.

11k dead people is a horrible number. Even 1 dead person is a horrible number. However, urban warfare in such a densely populated area is its own kind of hell, especially when the other side is fond of using civilians as human shields in every way possible. The fact that the number is 11k and not 50k, 100k, and so on, indicates that the IDF have indeed done a lot to minimize deaths. You don't genocide people by doing roof knocks, opening evacuation lines, dropping guided bombs, putting up an Iron Dome to deal with rockets while avoiding escalation, etc. simply because actual genocide, while a lot worse, is also cheaper, easier and faster than what they're doing. This is important because caling every act of war genocide dilutes the word, and there are actual genocides happening around the world. Also, there is a difference between striking military targets and causing civilian deaths as a side effect (what the IDF is doing) and planning and carrying out a massacre deliberately targeting civilians and inflicting as much pain and humilliation as possible on them. And there is a difference between doing so by breaking a ceasefire (which is what Hamas did), and defending your country because if you don't do that a terrorist group will anhilate you (which is what the IDF is doing).

Back to Noah. So far, these are the things that people have tried to cancel him for:

Traveling to Israel (a completely normal thing)

Having Israeli friends (another completely normal thing)

Condemning Hamas' horrible attack on October 7th (the decent thing to do)

Posting a statement saying he feels unsafe as a Jewish person in the US (which, given the rise of antisemitic acts in the world, including the US, including where he lives and where he studies, is a valid feeling to have)

Signing a letter, along with Shawn Levy, Brett Gelman, Ross Duffer and I think Cara Buono, asking Biden to press for the liberation of every hostage by Hamas. This especially shows the utter ignorance of the cancellers because, as it turns out, caring about every hostage implies a slowdown of IDF's actions (and, at the time, a delay of a ground invasion).

Supporting the existence and preservation of the state of Israel (once again, a completely normal thing). The fact that people are turning against him for these things says to me that the real reason you are all hating Noah is beacuse:

He's Jewish. Like, really really Jewish.

And the fact that this all comes from a place of antisemitism isn't hidden at all: I've seen y'all on here, on Twitter, Reddit, every other social media calling him slurs (such as "cunt"), censoring his name, pretending he's not part of the cast, asking the Duffers/Netflix to fire him, wishing him failure, doxxing him, calling on his classmates to physically assault him, etc. He doesn't need to educate himself: you guys are already teaching him a great lesson on why a Jewish state is necessary. If that's the treament he gets from his own "fans", what can he expect from the world at large?

[cryptic-klepto]

Yall are the Nazi's useful idiots. Block me.

I don't have mutuals because if I give any of you long enough you'll inevitably prove to be Jew Haters. I've blocked half this hellsite because you crypto-fascists masquerading as progressives can't read my pinned post BEGGING you to block me first. "Haha this person posts funny/informative posts. I'll follow them! ...Oh wait they mindlessly eat up nazi and terrorist propaganda like they're fistfuls of shredded cheese direct from the fridge at 2AM. Well nevermind then. Unfollow/blocked." Palestine will not be free or at peace with Israel destroyed and Hamas in control. Hamas has been murdering, raping, and torturing Palestinians for almost 2 decades. On top of that, so many of yall regurgitate nazi conspiracies and blood libel like you are vultures vomiting up worms to feed other mindless pawns of the Far Right. Leftists have been doing more legwork to promote the agenda of fascism than any Proud Boy or Neo-Nazi Gun Club has in years. Do I seem mad? I am mad. I'm mad that those I care about have to start making plans for when their home countries kick them out or hunt them down. For when YOU hunt them down. Not "if." WHEN. They know that they have nowhere to turn but Israel, the one place that has never turned them away. Every single country refused Jewish refugees during World War 2, during to pogroms, during the purges. Every single one. With one exception. Israel. That's why Israel must survive. Because without Israel, the Jewish people may not. They are a remarkably tenacious people, survived everything the world has ever thrown at them. The Romans, the Nazis, the Soviets, everything. But I don't want my loved ones to be in survival mode for every subsequent generation to follow. I want them to be and feel safe. That's what this is about. Safety. Jewish people, AND Palestinians, are being held hostage by Hamas. Women, children, elderly, the disabled. If you want a ceasefire, then they must be released. It's honestly the simplest and easiest demand Israel could make. Return the innocent. And yes they are innocent. They're only crime was not being Hamas, a crime so many of you openly believe deserves the death penalty. You want to free Palestine? Free Palestine from 17 years of Hamas tyranny. Demand that the hostages be released. Only then can their be a ceasefire. You can't expect Israel to just lay down arms while her people are having their heads cut off. Are you stupid or do you just want Jews to die that badly? Don't answer that. Two things can be true. Free Palestine from Hamas. Free Israel from Netanyahu. Release the hostages, negotiate ceasefire. Stop parroting Far Right propaganda. Jump off the bigoted bandwagon. Failing that, STFU and block me. I'm sick of this shit. Eat glass.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Oh dear sweet god

Why do I do this to myself

This goof has such a chokehold on my heart I just CANNOT

Working on P is for Public of ABC's of Kink, but it's getting split into two. Part one is SFW, part 2 will be very much NSFW. Already working in it and planning to have it up tonight.

And awaaaaay we gooo—

I lied part 3 will be NSFW don't hurt me

Blacksmith's Daughter

Part 1 of 3

Part 2 here

Series: ABC's of Kink

Letter: P is for Public

Wordcount: 2.7k

Tags: SFW, NSFW (part 3 only), fluff, hurt/comfort other stuff maybe

LA!Shanks X AFAB!Reader

Dear gods I loved writing this one

To say you were in a pickle would have been a grievous understatement.

You and a close friend had been caught sneaking around a Marine base after getting the bright idea to break into their treasury vault. For a few years since your father's death you had been down on your luck, and it had seemed a quick ticket to dragging yourself out of the gutter. You had become over that time a particularly skilled thief, and the training you had recieved from your father in blades, not to mention the pair of cutlasses he had smithed for you, didn't hurt your chances.

And you had been forced to give yourself up after your friend was killed while resisting arrest.

Thrown onto a Marine ship bound for Impel Down, locked in the brig with your hands and feet bound in irons. No family, no friends, set to rot for at least the next few years in prison, if not for the rest of your life.

You were fairly certain your situation couldn't possibly get any worse.

The officer guarding the brig was leaning against the desk across from the stairs that led up to the main deck of the ship, polishing his rifle with a rag and gun oil and whistling to himself. He had an easy enough time of it—you were the only prisoner there, and you weren't bothering to give him a hard time. You had been aboard the damnable ship for three days, stiff and sore from your limited range of movement in the heavy shackles clamped around your wrists and ankles, the gravity of your situation weighing heavily on you, and there really wasn't any fight left in you.

Sudden shouting from the deck overhead made him pause and look up the stairs, his brow furrowing under the brim of his cap as you both listened.

"Open fire!"

"Pirates!"

"All hands! Man the guns!"

The officer glanced into your cell, shouldering his rifle as he tossed his rag on the desk and pointed at you.

"Not a peep, wench."

You just leaned back against the wall of the cell with a sigh. "Yup."

So your situation could get worse. Wonderful.

The ship rattled and shook, the cannon fire making your ears ring. Bits of the ceiling fell into the cell around you. You flinched when a hole was blown through the wall of the cell next to your own, the cannon ball rolling across the floor and clanging against the bars. Rather than rotting in prison, you were just flat out going to die.

A fitting end for a miserable few years.

And then all at once, you heard another voice call for ceasefire. The cannon fire stopped first, and slowly the sounds of fighting on the deck above your head fell into relative silence, peppered with animated chatter and laughter.

That could only mean one thing—the Marines had lost.

And your suspicions were confirmed when, a few minutes later, one of the senior cadets on board burst through the doors and sprinted down the stairs into the brig in an outright panic, whimpering, attempting to draw his pistol with shaking hands—but not before he was followed by a broad-shouldered man with a long black ponytail, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, holding a large rifle with one hand and leveling the barrel between the young Marine's eyes.

The pirates had won. You weren't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Oh, don't shoot the kid, Benn, just get him restrained."

You watched another pirate stroll down the stairs and lean into the wall at the edge of them, bright red hair framing his face, a long black cape hanging around one of his shoulders, and a pair of cutlasses slung over his shoulder—your cutlasses. He set them lightly on the desk and patted his crewmate on the shoulder a couple times as he passed.

There was only one man on the Grand Line that matched his description, and even having lived in a town too far inland to have had much experience with pirates, you had heard of him—Red-Haired Shanks, captain of the Red Hair Pirates, who held one of the highest bounties in the world.

"Be quicker to shoot him." Benn shrugged a shoulder. "Or just coldcock him over the head."

"Kid's probably already shit himself." Shanks grabbed a coil of rope from the wall and tossed it across to him. "No use adding injury to insult."

Benn rolled his eyes over toward his captain...and then his gaze flicked back a bit, landing on you as you glanced warily between him and Shanks. Benn gave a nod toward your cell, and your heart went from racing to ceasing entirely when Shanks turned his head and locked his gaze with your own.

He lifted his eyebrows a bit, his dark brown eyes glinting.

"Well, hello there." You swallowed as he approached the cell slowly. He wrapped his hand around one of the bars, leaning forward. Evidently your anxiousness was written all over your face, as he said next, reassuringly, "Don't worry love, we don't bite. Unless you make the idiot decision of opening fire on my ship," he added, raising his voice just a bit and tilting his head to look back at the Marine cadet, who was putting up absolutely no fight over having his hands tied behind his back now.

Shanks directed his gaze back over to you, flashing a charming grin. "So what're ya in for, sweetheart?"

You took a deep breath, and forced yourself to speak. "I—I, er—"

"She snuck into the base in Nanohana and attempted to break into the treasury vault," the cadet chimed in, and flinched as Benn shoved him down to sit against the wall.

He then grabbed the gun-oil rag from the desk and stuffed it in the cadet's mouth.

"Nobody asked you, kid," he said, leaning against the adjacent wall and crossing his arms, his rifle propped up against the wood paneling beside him.

Shank's grin only widened at that. "Did you really?" You nodded shortly, and he chuckled. "God, what a horrible crime," he went on, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Everyone knows the World Government is horrifically impoverished and doesn't have a single Berry to spare." He leaned a bit closer, resting his head against one of the iron bars. "How far did you get?"

"W...we had just gotten the vault open before we were surrounded," you said quietly. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, as they widened and his eyebrows shot up toward his hairline, completely taken aback.

"Impressive," he said, his eyes passing over you slowly. He bit the corner of his lip thoughtfully, before his eyes returned to yours. "You said we. You have a crew?"

You shook your head. "It was just me and my friend. Well...more like my brother, really." Your eyes dropped to your knees for a moment. "He didn't make it," you said quietly, still not quite able to process it. Your best friend, your only friend, who you had known for twenty-three years, since you were a toddler.

Gone.

When you lifted your eyes back to the red-haired captain, his expression had softened considerably, mouth turned down in a small frown, his amusement replaced with genuine concern. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, sweetheart," he said gently. He drew in a deep breath, and let it out as a slow sigh, before flipping his cape out of the way and taking a seat on the floor—and you noticed with a bit of shock as the cloak shifted that the left sleeve of his loose white shirt was empty.

He rest his elbow on his knee, leaning his chin into his palm, hand curled over his mouth for a long moment.

"Arabasta is around three days from here," he said finally. "Provided the wind cooperates, and honestly we could do with making port. We'd be more than happy to take you home."

You swallowed, your heart still pounding, still anxious, but for a different reason now. This man, who didn't even know your name, who was gazing at you with a gentle compassion spread across his handsome features that you were entirely unaccustomed to, offering to go out of his way just to get you home—this man had a bounty of over three billion berries?

After a moment, you shook your head. "Wouldn't be much use," you said, shrugging a shoulder. "I don't exactly have a home."

"Any family?" You shook your head—your father's death had been wholly unexpected, and led ultimately to the closing of his smithy, where the two of you and your "brother"—his apprentice—had also lived. Within less than a month you had been on the streets. "Friends?"

His face fell a little more every time you shook your head no. He ran the pad of his index finger over the top of his lips, glancing briefly at Benn.

Back at you, looking at you almost like you were a poor, abandoned puppy he wanted to take home.

He glanced at Benn again, longer this time, until his first mate sighed, straightening out from the wall. "I'll figure out who's got the keys," he said, already starting toward the door.

"Good man."

From the slam you heard, you were fairly sure he kicked the door open at the top, and his voice boomed over the loght chatter on the deck.

"Alright, you assholes. I'm gonna ask one of you who's got the keys to the brig. I don't get an answer in ten seconds, you're getting an extra hole in your head, and I move onto the next guy."

Your eyes widened a little as you looked toward the stairs, moving back over to Shanks as he laughed a little.

"Has a real knack for subtlety, doesn't he?" he said with a crooked grin. He leaned back, planting his hand on the floor behind him. "Seems you have two options, love. You can stay here, with a bunch of tied up Marines who want to take you—where, Impel Down?" You nodded, and he returned the nod. "Or..." He cooked his head slightly to one side, his grin widening a little. "We can break you out of here and you can come with us."

You blinked a few times. "And...go where?" you said slowly.

Her shrugged a shoulder. "Wherever the wind and the waves carry us."

He was asking you to join his crew. You felt your eyes widen a bit, and Shanks laughed softly when he saw his meaning had sunk in.

"I'd choose the latter option, personally," he said. "Never hurts to have another good thief on board."

"You...can't really say I'm a good thief, given..." You glanced down pointedly at the iron shackles around your ankles. "Well, circumstances."

"Ah..." He waved his hand dismissively. "Everyone makes mistakes early in their career. How long have you been thieving?"

"Two years," you said. "Since my father died. Mostly just...pick-pocketing and sneaking money pouches off vendors. This was the first actual break-in."

His eyes widened a bit. "Your first actual break-in," he said slowly, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk, "was into a Marine base in a major city?"

You shrugged a shoulder, and nodded. He huffed out a sigh, shaking his head.

"Oh, I like you," he said in a low, flirtatious tone, his eyes making a slow pass over you that made your heart speed up and blood rush to your cheeks. "So tell me, princess...." He finally leaned forward again, resting his arm across his knee, and went on with a debonair grin. "Is there a pretty name to go with that pretty face?"

You managed to stammer out your name, your eyes wide as saucers. His smile softened as he shook his head a little, his gaze locked firmly onto yours as he spoke one word softly.

"Beautiful."

You jumped when the door opened, and both of you looked over as Benn descended the stairs, flicking a spent cigarette butt at the Marine cadet still seated in the corner. He tossed a ring of keys over to Shanks.

"Already informed everyone we have a new thief on the crew," he said flatly, tossing a ring of keys over to Shanks.

Shanks swiped them out of the air, grinning. "And how do you know that? I don't recall telling you."

Benn gave him a look equally as flat as his tone.

"Oh, lighten up, you grumpy old bastard," said Shanks jovially, pulling himself to his feet. Your eyes were glued to the keys as he flipped one out and tried it in the cell lock.

It didn't open.

"So what're we doing about this?" said Benn, gesturing broadly. "Caravel full of tied up Marines. Sink her? Just leave her adrift?"

Shanks shrugged. "Might as well just leave it. Take anything that isn't nailed to the floor."

There was a muffled sound of protest in the corner, and both men turned their gaze to the cadet.

Shanks tried the second key, with no success, as the cadet managed to turn his head and tug the cloth out of his mouth with traction from the shoulder of his coat. "Y—you can't just—there's no telling when another Marine ship will come by!"

Shanks snorted. "Or another pirate ship." He flipped to the next key, smirking. "So you'd rather I sink her?"

"W—well, no, but—but we—"

Benn had evidently heard enough. He rolled his eyes as he stooped down to pick up the cloth, and the cadet's jaw snapped shut immediately. Sighing in irritation, he grabbed the kid by his nose and held his nostrils shut until he was forced to open his mouth to take a gasp of air.

And Benn immediately shoved the cloth back into his mouth, and pointed a finger an inch from his nose. "Do it again and it'll be the last thing you ever do. Got it?"

The cadet nodded quickly, his eyes wide circles of terror.

The third key turned, and the lock clicked. You expelled a heavy sigh of relief at the sound. Shanks chuckled lightly as he watched you lean your head back against the damp wall behind you. "No need to worry, love," he said, kneeling down at your feet and flipping to the attached set of smaller keys for the cuffs and shackles. "I can pick a lock when I need to." He freed the first one, leveling his eyes with yours, and a small shiver coursed up your spine as he reached out and brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb briefly caressing your flushed cheek. "I'm not letting a few iron bars and chains keep me from you."

"Oh dear god," Benn grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes, and you almost giggled a little, biting your lip. The guy wasn't wrong, Shanks was laying it on pretty thick.

Though you weren't really complaining.

Shanks glanced back at him as he set to unlocking the second shackle, feigning surprise. "Oh, are you still here?" he said with a sarcastic smirk. He turned his attention back to the irons. "I fear I forgot there was anyone else in the room for a moment."

He glanced up and gave you a little wink before tossing the shackles away, and touched your shoulder lightly to indicate for you to lean forward so he could get to the cuffs wrapped around your wrists.

Benn leveled his eyes with yours, glancing at his captain, and gave a small snort of laughter. "Good luck."

And with that, he headed back up the stairs.

"Oh, don't listen to him, sweetheart."

Shanks chuckled, leaning over you to quickly unlock the shackles, so close you could feel the heat of his body, smell the leathery scent of his cologne mingling with a subtler hint of spiced rum. Your heart raced as he stood back up, dropped the cuffs, and held out his hand, smiling.

You hesitated for the briefest of moments, before placing your hand in his. He pulled you to your feet...and then flush against his chest, grinning as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

"I promise I'm perfectly harmless."

[pettytiredandjewish]

Ya know what…

I’m so tired of this crap. I’m tired of being scared and having nightmares. I’m tired of seeing people that I thought were friends post/share antisemitic shit/ propaganda and misinformation that hamas created. I hate having to be cautious about people and their intentions. I don’t like having to make a mental list of people that would help me if something happens- I don’t want to drag them into this shit show…

I hate that most of y’all are just sharing/posting misinformation/propaganda about this war. Y’all stop fucking getting your information from social media/and Hamas run “news sites”. Fun fact Hamas is in control of Gaza and certain news media’s. They can tell the world that Israel is doing so and so and y’all would fucking eat it up (and y’all do that). And don’t get me started on the fucking trauma porn- y’all are so obsessed with seeing those photos and pictures, and here’s the thing- no one knows if they are real/“posed”/ai generated and same with the “stories”… heck y’all even twist up the stories just to make Israel the only bad guy in this war…

Most of y’all don’t even care about Palestine. If y’all did why are you not condemning Hamas and their government? Y’all claim you want this to stop- Israel has offered multiple ceasefire deals but Hamas turns them down because they don’t fucking care. They don’t care that civilians are getting k*lled. Hamas end goal is to exterminate Israelis and Jews. They even admitted it but y’all were just turned a blind eye. Hamas is taking control of the narrative of this war and y’all are fucking falling for it…

I don’t trust anyone who uses Zionist/zionism as a slur, wishes death against Israel and their citizens, calls the IDF the IOF, those who turns a blind eye to the antisemitic shit that y’all are causing/or joining in on, chatting genocidal slogans, the list goes on and on….

You claim that y’all don’t blame Jews- just those “Zionist”. I don’t know how to say it but the majority of Jews are Zionist and a lot of us don’t want this war. (Also most of y’all don’t know what Zionism is and are spreading false information about it). Also stop calling Israelis terrorist. They are not- I’ve said this multiple times, citizens are not their government…

Blaming Jews for this war does make you antisemitic. Harassing Jews/attacking Jews/wishing death upon Jews/ cheering and supporting terrorist organizations that want Jews dead/ all of this plus more doesn’t help Palestine. But it does make you a raging antisemitic asshat. This is why we Jews are fucking scared and terrified. History is starting to repeat itself and y’all are contributing to it. Y’all wanna know why Jews are wanting to leave their home countries- because we don’t feel safe because of this shit that is happening…

I could keep going but I’ll stop. This is just me venting out my frustrations. I’m so frustrated that y’all are doing this. I’m tired and scared. If y’all don’t like this- I don’t give a damn. I said what i said. Just know that if y’all start spitting out antisemitic shit on this post- I will call you out and block you…

Am yisrael chai ✡️

And to those who lost people in this war and to those who were killed just because they were Jewish- May your memory be a blessing.

[mrsnancywheeler]

the river (2) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

the end of a trilogy series

previous chapter / next chapter

masterlist

6.1k words

warnings: angst, fluff, self-destructive behavior, finnick's bias now so you can see how they both view the other as the more broken one, mental health issues, allusions to suicide, allusions to trafficking and trauma surrounding it, the opposite of a slowburn it's giving their soulmates, mentions of death/torture/violence/brainwashing, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Seeing your face again could have sent Finnick into another frenzy, he'd been scared he'd forget it even though he thought about it every second of every day. But he couldn't do that, he needed to listen, hear your voice again. You had that smile plastered on your face that everyone could easily believe in, and had for years, except him. There was a mournful, numb look that would settle in the back of your eyes whenever you put on a performance, one that usually leads to dissociation. On top of that, you looked tired, the way you looked when after you'd won your Games and hadn't been able to escape the nightmares. 

Your voice was like music in his ears when you greeted Ceasar back, a tune that could soothe his soul if he wasn't so worried about you. It pained him to notice that in the midst of everything, of holding you captive, of the rebellion, they'd still managed to play dress up with you. Goosebumps covering your skin, the outfit barely covered any of you, you'd always run cold, and the Capitol seemed to know this. “So you're saying you knew nothing about the rebel plan?"

You shook your head emphatically, “No, I told you all how sure I was that I was never coming out of that arena. It was just as much of a shock to me." His clever, clever girl, trying so hard to play it safe.

“At the end you were screaming about forgetting something, what was that?" Caesar asked.

The tracker. The stupid tracker. "Finnick…" You trailed off, looking into the camera for a second like you were trying to reach out to him, “We had a special way of communicating with each other that comes with being together that long, I needed to find him, I still don't remember why.”

"So did he know about the rebel plan?”

Your foot was tapping slightly and Finnick prayed, for your sake, that no one else knew how anxious that indicated you were. “If he did, he didn't tell me." You looked at the camera again, addressing the citizens of the Capitol, "And I want everyone to know that if he did know anything, he would only do it if he thought it meant we could be together. He would never want this, the rebellion, the terror, both of us love all of you and Panem so much. His intentions would've been of love, not harm.” 

Finnick was so proud that your years of charisma for the Capitol was pulling through now. He felt like he was going to cry, the way you were defending him in the off chance that everything went wayward and he also ended up in Capitol clutches somehow. Maybe, if Snow really thought you knew nothing, he'd consider you more than just bait, maybe there'd be quite a few of these interviews left to boost morale for Capitol citizens. To see one of their favorite victors spewing out propaganda, it would also keep you alive longer, so out of all things that's what Finnick would place his hopes on. 

“Peeta called for a ceasefire, would you agree with this, that things should just be called off?” You glanced off camera, anxiously scratching at your arms.

"Yes, a ceasefire needs to be called.” Your smile reeked of discomfort and fear, and he was even more grateful that it was something only he knew how to sense from you. “The destruction being caused, the death, will get so much worse if this continues. No one wants that, this can all be sorted out. President Snow is merciful, but only if a ceasefire is called for.” It was sickening, the lies you were being forced to tout. Snow was anything but merciful, he'd probably throw the victors into the arena again, or just line them all up to be shot, or make death causing ‘accidents’ occur as soon as possible. Then you were crying and Finnick longed to hold you, to tell you it would be okay, to give any words of comfort he could. "I'm sorry, so much has happened recently.”

"Well us in the Capitol are glad to still have you with us." Finnick hated that they had you, that Caesar could still force you to perform for all of Panem and act like you're fine.

"I'm glad to be here with all of you too!” You mutter through tears and your signature, fake smile.

"Before we go, is there anything you want to say if the rebels are watching out there, if Finnick, your husband is watching out there?”

“He's not a rebel." You say quickly, with as much urgency as you can. Your eyes shut for a second and you're muttering to yourself, “He's my husband, he's not a rebel, not a rebel."

"Right, he's not a rebel.” Caesar says with what's supposed to be a comforting smile.

Your eyes open and you nod, wiping away stray tears, “And I'm just reminding everyone how badly we need a ceasefire, to stop all of this. To stop the suffering and all that could come.” Your smiling again, so forced it looks like it hurts and you're rubbing your necks until it's red, "Ceasefire, ceasefire, ceasefire is important.” It's like you're chasing a thought you're being forced to remember.

“Yes, a ceasefire is important." Caesar nods, "Well a big thank you to the Capitol Princess for her message here today.” Your smile drops as you nod at the camera before it cuts and Finnick has been once again abandoned with his thoughts. 

What are they doing to you to convince you to say things you would never believe? How sweet you are for insisting upon his innocence anyway you can, he misses you more than home, the ocean, the feeling of fresh air in his lungs, the sun shining down on his face, he would happily live without it all if you could just be here, with him. You'd looked so exhausted and he misses being able to hold you, keep you warm so you could rest and feel safe when you did. He longs to see your genuine smile, the way your eyes would soften and the way your nose crinkled when you laughed.

A fantasy he can drive himself into before the anger can fall back into place, how he needs to hijack something so he can rescue you. He'd rage to President Coin herself if he could force her to do it, but they barely even let him out of the hospital wing. He's sobbing again, calloused hands trying to clear his face of the tears. Maybe they think he hasn't seen it, so they aren't worried about his reaction, they probably assume he's sleeping or focused on tying his knots, but it's just the eye of the hurricane. He can only stain the plain, scratchy sheets with his tears for so long before the hysteria will return. But for now he can mourn. He can hate himself, wish the rope was long enough to let him leave, and wish you could've both just chosen to be together in death. It would've been better then torture he's going through now. How there's not a second he can't focus on you, what he misses, what he dreads could be happening to you, the dreams of your future.

Dreams where you could be at home, surrounded by friends and family having the traditional District 4 wedding, sea shanty's and all. Where there was no fear that Snow would manipulate the games to force your children to be spectacles so you'd had children, as many as you wanted. Who you'd take to the beach, teach them about the animals, teach them to swim, and be the family he knows deep down you'd both have wished for. There'd been a glimpse where that was possible and then there'd been the impending doom that it wasn't. That instead it would be the wish he had when they told him you were dead.

Death. You. The idea that death could creep up with its slender hands and drag you away into the cavernous pit, that would leave him forever alone. He'd gratefully dig the claws of death into himself to bring you back or lay with you in the lowest parts of the cliffs forever. Death. You. Him. Freedom. Chains broken, no more threats, no more needs, just the end with you. 

Instead he needed to face the brazen winds to return you to his arms. You'd looked so cold and he missed being able to warm you, for you to cool him down. He had to get you back and the frenzy was back. Finnick was back on his feet, tearing himself from the bed, not giving a care to the things around him, if they fell to the floor it was something else out of his way. This commotion did alert the medics close by and Finnick was instantly trying to run by them.

“We have to save her, I need to save her!” He urged, but they were used to his antics. They'd long ago retrieved the manpower required to overpower him when he got like this. That didn't mean he still wouldn't fight, he still had the strength it took to shove most of them off, react violently when they got their hands on him, and struggle when eventually a larger group had their arms on him, ready to sedate once again. Maybe that was a good thing though, it allowed him to fully focus all of his thoughts on you and everything you two had. 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

He was early, but he didn't care, well he kind of did when he paced by the cobblestones not far from your house wondering when he should knock. Wicker picnic basket being moved between each of his hands, careful not to hit the bouquet of flowers he was holding, as he anxiously counted down. Finnick knew he said noon, but did that mean five minutes before would be the right time to show up? 10 minutes? Exactly at noon? He wasn't used to feeling this anxious, he'd adopted a suave personality for Panem to gobble up that had become nearly effortless, but now he wanted desperately for you to ignore that and just be perfect.

The gift he had for you weighed heavy in the pocket of his shorts. He wanted to give it to you, he hoped you'd like it because he really wanted to see that smile that he'd daydreamed about again. He checked his watch, 13 minutes, and the worry was still there. Would you be scared off if you looked outside to see him waiting so early or would you find it sweet? What if you were inside anxiously waiting for him because you doubted it was real, because you wanted it to be genuine, and he reasoned from what he did know it was probably the correct assumption. You were too full of self-doubt, of an unspoken want to be seen, to be realized, and he wanted nothing more than to really comprehend each intricate detail that made you, you. 

‘Fuck it,’ He told himself when he made his way up the cracked cement, the grass and weeds peeking through. All the way up the two steps on your crickety porch, light blue paint peeling away to reveal the rotting chunks of wood. Slowly he tapped his knuckles on the wooden door, hoping the knocks didn't seem aggressive, but were enough to gain attention. Since when had he worried about the way his knocks were perceived? Only to gain a chance to perceive you.

The door creaked open and there you were, glowing in another beautiful sundress. “Hi!” Your smile was enough to wash away most of his anxieties even if your own voice seemed riddled with them, he despised the fact you felt anything less than sure of yourself, then sure of his interest in you. 

“Good morning, angel." Morning? Afternoon? Did he care which one was more accurate, did you? Finnick pulled on his dazzling smile, feeling like he was swept up by you.

He pulled the bouquet up, "Um, I got these for you.” You stared at them for what felt like an eternity and made him blush, scared he'd misread something,"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just-”

"They’re for me?” Features so soft it made his heart want to melt already, even the smile was so sweet and fond.

“Yeah, they're for you. These ones just reminded me of you." He wasn't about to say he'd spent hours at Mags this morning trying to pick the perfect flowers from her garden that he thought you would not only adore, but that gave off your very essence.

“They're perfect." You said in a soft amazement,"Really perfect.” Your fingers brush through them before you're ever so gently taking them from him,"Thank you.” 

Flowers were definitely a win, something that could rely on for you to adore. “Of course, sweet girl." You smiled as you smelled the flowers and he concluded that you didn't get many gifts, even one's as easy as that. He'd plant garden after garden to keep you smiling like that. You shut the door and it clicked behind you as you stepped towards him, porch creaking.

“Really, thank you, Finnick." To his surprise you hugged him and how cold you were was almost as shocking, you had such a warm, inviting aura that it was hard to imagine the icincess of your skin. Yet he melted into it, he'd always been so warm that it was nice to have something to contradict that, like when he went for his early morning swim. You smelled the peaches and the ocean, it was delightful and an aroma he'd always want to remember. He longed for your touch to return the moment you pulled away and suddenly he was just hot again. He must have stood there staring and longing for a while because your melodic voice stopped this, “So, are we planning on standing here all day?”

“No, no sorry!" He shook his head, breaking into a nervous chuckle as he tilted his head to the side. You laughed as you began walking down the rickety steps and he followed. “How was dinner?" Maybe he was jealous, he shouldn't be, there was really no good reason to be, but he was.

You looked at Finnick for a moment, confused, like it hadn't quite processed in your brain. “Oh, yes! It went well!"

“What'd his sisters have for you?" The fond look you gave him for remembering a small moment in a conversation made his heart swell and he swore he'd remember everything about you. 

“We like to try and find the prettiest things in the sand, seashells, sea glass, things like that and we all have little collections from each other. They're sweet."

“You're sweet."

“How would you know that, you don't know me." You said, fingers playing the flowers and trying to keep watch on the ground. The cobblestone was uneven, broken, crumbling apart and very just a tripping hazard.

“As you keep reminding me, it doesn't change the fact that you're sweet. ” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. His free hand slides into his pocket, “Saw something else that reminded me of you." He pulls out a necklace, something a vendor had made of shining seashell fragments and the occasional pearl, but something about it just seemed so much like you.

“Finnick." Your steps halted and he did the same,"I don't need you to buy me things.” 

"I know, I want to buy you things.” The necklace dangled from his fingers, glistening in the rays of sun.

"But I don't have anything for you, so it's not-”

"You don't have to get me anything, I'm just spending time with you and I want to do it. Not because I feel obligated too, but because I like you.” Finnick reassured, this didn't have to be transactional, he just wanted to show you he paid attention, he cared. 

You closed your eyes and sighed before nodding, “Okay."

“Unless you don't like it, in which case you should tell me now for future reference.” 

“No, no, that's not what I mean, I mean I do, I just-"

“Need to get better at accepting gifts?" He finished, raising an eyebrow.

You scoffed, “I'm good at accepting gifts!" There was a beat of silence where the two of you both stared at each other, him with his brow still arched quizzically, before the two of you burst into laughter. “Sorry, that's not true."

“I can tell!" When the laughter had somewhat subsided, he took another step towards you, lifting the necklace slightly, “Here, let me help you." He was thankful for another chance to let his fingers ‘accidentally’ brush against the skin of your neck and be cooled by it.

His nimble fingers secured the clasp, "This seems to keep happening to us.” You said, trying not to bristle when his warm hands did in fact make slight contact with yours.

"Maybe I'm just a mastermind.” His voice was so close to your ear as he gave himself an extra second of touch before forcing himself to step back.

"Or maybe you're full of yourself." You turned back around to face him before the two of you continued on the walk.

Finnick shrugged, “Two things can be true."

“Maybe not those two." He felt like a lost puppy dog who'd trail behind you, at your beck and call, every single time you spoke. It was terrifying, bone chilling, to think he'd become infatuated from afar and now it was like he'd been bewitched. As if your aura had its own siren song attached to allure his own in and he'd gladly crash his ship on the rocky shores for you. Yet the fear was combated with the fact that you, the core of you, was closer to the shine of the lighthouse, guiding him to safety. A thin line between destruction and refuge.

Banter has easily continued until he'd finally led you to the beach locked behind the gates of Victors Village, its view was truly breathtaking. He laid out the blanket on the warm sand, picnic basket on top, and you'd already been rid of your sandals. You stood, arms out as the breeze blew through your arms, inhaling the salty air and Finnick would've sworn you were some type of ethereal blessing gifted to the Earth from the ocean itself. Slowly he lifted the lid on the wicker basket, “Here." He said, holding up a peach.

You opened your eyes to look over and he could see the instant surprise on them as you sat down, “Finnick!" You didn't take it from him, just put your hands around it to draw it closer as you smelled it like you weren't sure it was real. “Oh my god!" You exclaimed when you caught a glimpse of the bag of peaches within the basket. 

“Thought it might convince you to not barter the necklace." He chuckled as if he hadn't been certain he'd buy the whole array of peaches to see you smile and hear your laugh, to see the spark in your eyes. 

You paused to touch the necklace, suddenly serious, “I wouldn't do that." Your eyes were so gorgeous, so addictive, so kind. The type of eyes he wanted to gaze into until everything else had faded away. Every piece of art, every sunset, every sunrise, every star’s beauty lessened in comparison. “Finnick Odair, you can't be real." That shining smile had returned and he couldn't help but follow in your footsteps to give one back. “Seriously, you have to tell me what's wrong with you before I become too attached."

Finally you took the peach from his hand to bite into it, “Afraid I can't tell you yet, angel, scared you'd run away on me.” His tone was light enough to be a joke, but deep down he knew he'd never be able to tell you about the things that he felt the most self-loathing for, how self-destructive he could be would be something he'd try to keep you away from.

"Well you've already got me; hook, line, and sinker.” When you smiled and spoke, your nose would scrunch up in what he imagined was the most adorable thing possible. You stopped taking bites and quietly sat on the bed, observing him.

"No need to stare, I'm staying right here.” 

"Oh my god, I could kiss you.” He wasn't even sure if you'd processed the words as you stared at him longer before your brain finally seemed to register what you'd said. The look of shock had barely begun to pass your face when he decided he'd just kiss you instead. Perhaps it was all too fast, a day for him to be tasting the peach on your lips, for his fingers to be on your cold face besides the slight warmth on your cheeks. Whirlwind romances were either tragedy's or a fairytale, so time would have to tell, but maybe it should've been a sign. The ending could be uncertain as it liked, but he was sure your souls were yoked in the first ocean tides to bless the world.

His nostrils filled with the scent of peaches and the salt air you had meshed with how you tasted like the peaches, once again, and vanilla. So calming, like he was being softly rocked in the waters, nothing less than perfect. When he finally pulled away from you all he wanted to do was be enveloped by the taste once again. You looked so flustered and taken aback, it was so precious to him. “I beat you to it, this time." Cocky smirk even if he was slightly breathless.

You nodded at him slowly with your eyes wide, like all thoughts had been taken from your head. Finnick would've said something else if it weren't for the refreshing chill of your hands grabbing his face to pull him in for another kiss. He'd never get sick of peaches when they reminded him so much of you, if he was ever to be away he'd spend his time learning endlessly about them just to feel near. Although it couldn't compare with the way your lips molded to his so easily. Then there were your hands in his hair, something he usually couldn't stand, but when it was your gentle hands he couldn't find it anything but endearing. Eventually you'd pulled away as well, chest heaving, yet it was like you couldn't say a thing. Faces and bodies mere inches from each other as you stared at each other, listening to each other breathe.

Suddenly you were quickly removing yourself from him, running forward in the sand. “Where are you going?" Finnick called after you, somewhat terrified he'd scared you off. But you turned back to him smiling like you hadn't a care in the world.

“Swimming!" You shed yourself of the sundress to be just left in the swimsuit you wore underneath, “Are you coming?" Now it was Finnick's to scramble up, chasing you towards the water.

You must have spent hours swimming, like there was no other world except the now. He'd swim under the water, scaring you when he'd pull at your ankle and you'd fight back by trying to dunk him under the moment he bobbed to the top. This was usually unsuccessful as he'd simply drag you down with him, except when he wanted you to feel like you had succeeded. He'd randomly lift you from the waters and you'd screech for him to put you down and once or twice he'd used it as an excuse to kiss you again. After hours of similar actions the sound of the waves hitting the shore was the only thing that could be heard as you both waded to stay afloat. 

Finnick stared out at the horizon, “I want to take you sailing when I get back."

“When you get back from what?" You asked, looking at him. Suddenly he was flooded with guilt, here he was dragging you along when he couldn't even be fully yours or honest about it. But he wanted to be with you so bad and for now that was all he had to cling onto.

It didn't mean he could look at you when he tried to explain it, so he looked down into the waters, “I'm supposed to leave for the Capitol tomorrow, just Victor related things.” He mumbled, shrugging off the mention.

"Oh, okay.” You didn't sound actually upset, "When will you be back?”

"A week at the most.” He peeked up at you through his eyelashes surprised to see you didn't look upset either, at most a little dejected that you wouldn't see him for so long.

"Well, we better have a killer party then to end all of this off, make sure you don't forget me.” You teased, raising your eyebrows.

"I could never forget about you… but you're not upset?"

You shot him a quizzical look, “Why would I be upset, we all have responsibilities, even if they come with different territory.” You shrugged and nearly fell backwards when he pressed his lips to yours again, steadying your back when you began to fall backwards. You had to be an angel who'd been sent to keep him sane and grace him, but a darker side of him urged him to realize he didn't deserve someone as understanding as you.

“You're so perfect." His arms held you and he looked at you with nothing less than amazement.

“I'm definitely not."

‘You’re perfect for me, we're perfect together,’ Finnick thought as he looked at you, water droplets running down your skin, breathing hard from all the excursions, eyes sparked with their usual twinkle and so many hidden thoughts he wanted to dive into. He accepted the conclusion that the only reason he would be feeling all this so fast would be because you were destined to be, all the stars had aligned for this moment, and the oceans had moved mountains to ensure this lifetime was no different. If you were Eurydice he had been your Orpheus, the Dante to your Beatrice, you would have been the Penelope to his Odysseus, regardless of any fate he knew there was never a life where you'd not been irrevocably bound together. 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were going to be rescued, saved from the Capitol's grasps, and what had brought elation at first was quickly ruined when he learned that he couldn't help rescue you. He wasn't quite yet considered mentally stable enough for it, even if slowly he'd been able to mask it all better. Instead he had to stay in District 13 and do nothing but beg the universe to return you to him. Hadn't there been enough tragedy in your short lives? Hadn't there been enough tragedy in every other ending, in every other life? They should've let him brave death to bring you back, it would've settled him more then the torture of not knowing. Especially since he'd caught every airing you'd had from the Capitol which made him grateful that Katniss had wagered for your immunity. Snow had you begging for ceasefire, showing off outfits to parade, as if there wasn't a textile shortage, and it broke him when you seemed to be getting less sure of questions regarding him, regarding you. Then had been when Peeta announced the planned attack on District 13 and seeing you scream when he was violently attacked for the warning. A scream that would have forced Finnick to be sedated if it weren't for the more impending doom of the bombs. 

Katniss was filming a distraction propo about Peeta, how he'd saved her, loved her from the beginning. It was intimate, but apparently not enough for Plutarch who was calling Finnick over. Or maybe he's thought of something when Katniss mentions Snow's own admission of the Capitol's fragility.

“The Capitol is fragile, Snow is fragile, if we can manage to make a major blow to that, it could take their focus off of the prisoners. Force them to focus on damage control instead." Plutarch explains.

“And you want me to say something that could do that?” Finnick looks down at his rope, you'd never been able to master the butterfly knot, and he can imagine himself going over it again to try and teach you.

“If you have anything worth sharing." Of course everyone knows he does, among the elite, the powerful, the other victors it's just an open secret. “It could help us save her."

"But you don't have to open that up, there's no guarantee it'll do anything.” Haymitch argues, he's been forced into sobriety and has maintained his aggression. 

“I have something, more than one." Finnick finally says once he's completed his knot and Plutarch can't hide how pleased he is with this outcome. Finnick swears he can hear the blood draining from his face and the nausea rising in his stomach as each second passes, but he persists to stand in front of the cameras.

"You don't have to do this.” Haymitch reiterates.

"Yes I do, if it'll help her.” There's no other option, if the only thing that stopped you from being safely brought to District 13 was the lack of a good distraction, he'd find a way to get a longer rope. He undid the knot before balling it tightly in his hand, “I'm ready." Finnick says to the camera crew and he thinks of you. He turns off any physical sign of emotions he may have because he knows if he doesn't it would lead to another damaging spiral.

The cameras click on and he's given the all clear to begin, “President Snow used to… sell me… my body, that is. I wasn't the only one.” Far from it, and Finnick wanted revenge for all of them, for him, for you, for Cashmere, for everyone Snow had forced into his scheme. "If a Victor is considered desirable, the President gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” What had happened to Johanna, what he'd been terrified would happen to you when you'd first been together. “I wasn't the only one." He repeats and this time it really is for you, for how much he had to watch it break you. The nightmares, how long it took for you to accept any form of physical contact, how even years after it still affected your own intimacy with each other. They stole it all, your girlhood, most of your spark, whatever they could they ravaged from you like vultures on a corpse. Wasn't the prize of winning supposed to be life? “But I was the most popular. And perhaps the most defenseless because the people I loved were so defenseless." Finnick would never have mentioned this to you, but he'd begged Snow to give him more rather than give you any. The President had said you were too popular for none, but had given you less than what you could've had in exchange for even more of Finnick's time, his so-called uses. “To make themselves feel better my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment. Secrets.”

That's why he was such a threat to Snow, he knew too much, he needed to be silenced, but he hadn't and now he could tell all of Panem each one. “And this is where you're going to want to stay tuned, President Snow because so very many of them were about you. But let's begin with some of the others.” And prominent name after name spewed off of his tongue. It felt like he was dropping chains off of his body to reveal them to the nation. Each one more heinous than the next, “And now, on to our good President Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That's all you really need to know. Poison." More names, victims of Snow's climb to power, the elite he trampled so he could trample the weak. Suddenly he's on fire, Finnick can't stop thinking about all the pain it caused you, about how it ruined his own childhood and life, how Johanna lost everyone she loved, how Cashmere worked so hard to protect her brother only for them both to be dead and he's so very detailed. Ensuring that it can't be swept under the rug and it's so harrowing that no one cuts the camera even when he's stopped speaking. There's too much shock, too much intensity, "Cut.” Finnick eventually intervenes.

Finally the stupor is over and people rush to air the footage, Plutarch is making endless comments that Finnick can't comprehend when he's so lost in his own head. Auto-pilot took control for most of the day, he tied knots until his fingers bled. You would've scolded him and bandaged them up, insisting it's why you didn't care for them even if you loved pouting for him to help you just so he could be so close by. Then he's got his arms wrapped around his knees, the day has been too slow, what if you were dead and he'd have no idea until they arrived and he would be at peak hope.

“Did you love her right away, Finnick?" Katniss' voice finally pulls him away from the endless myriad of thoughts.

“Not for the years when I knew of her and then I don't know what changed. She was just so herself in every way and I knew I wanted to just speak with her at least, but once I had a taste of it, yes. Like I'd been knocked over by a wave with it. For a while she didn't understand, but I didn't either, I just knew that there was no else for me." He feels like he's tearing up again when Haymitch rushes into the room.

“They're back. We’re wanted in the hospital. That's all I know." But Finnick feels like he can't move, he realizes he's scared of what you'll be like now. The Capitol had taken the you with her free-spirit and love of being in the moment and made her hate that she was able to breathe oxygen, which he'd so diligently worked to prove you were worthy of. Now they'd had you again, a version that was already hurt, untrusting, and self-destructive, and he couldn't imagine what they could have done to you now. Katniss is softly grabbing his hand to guide him upwards and he feels robotic. She guides him through the winding, gray hallways to the hospital wing. It's not until he can hear your screams that his brain clicks back into action. He has a responsibility to you, one of care, of love, of support in your weakest moments.

He's screaming your name as he runs from Katniss, searching for you desperately. Then he spots you on a hospital bed, pushing off the doctors trying to take care of you. Finnick needs to just be there with his soft words, let you know they're trying to help, so you'll stop. But that's not what happens when you hear his voice or see him. “Angel!" Your panicked screams become more shrill when you see him and in his confusion he steps closer, “It's just me." His voice is more broken then he wanted it to sound, more dejected.

“Get him away from me!" You're frenzied, scrambling to get out of the hospital bed or as far away in it as you can. The doctors are trying to reassure you as you scratch, and kick, and hit, and scream, begging for them to keep you safe from him. He feels the doctors trying to lead him away, hears Johanna laughing harshly in the background noise, but he's frozen. Your head is banging on the metal back of the bed which rattles. “Please, please.” You're sobbing and they're staying to sedate you, "He wants me dead, you don't get it, he's gonna kill me.” 

And Finnick is once again determined to get hands on a much longer rope. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so, so much for reading I am so sorry this took me so long! I hope you enjoyed it and as always feedback, comments, likes, reblogs are all much appreciated. my ask box is always open and currently so are requests which I'm working through! love you all and thank you again 💋

taglist: @coriolanussnowswife @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @libertyybellls @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery @ang3lflor @maxinehufflepuffprincess @prettybiching @miserablebl00d @wowzabowza69 @nomorespahgetti @problematicpastries @abaker74 @nj01 @whens-naptime @sarcasticbooknerd12 @cakes-hq @honethatty12 @s1lngwns @alliex-o

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Fourteen

Day: Saturday, March 9th / 10th* Time: 3:50 PM EST

Abby had kept her distance long enough, it seems. She comes around the bed, wide-eyed and frantic, but only makes it to the corner before Andrew realizes her intentions. He catches hold of Nathaniel to turn his face forward again and shoots Abby a look so vicious she stops in her tracks. "Get away from us," Andrew says. "Andrew," Abby says, quiet and careful. "He's hurt. Let me see him." "If you make me repeat myself you will not live to regret it." Nathaniel has never heard that murderous tone from him. It makes his hair stand on end but somehow eases some of the lava in his chest. It is Nathaniel's fault Andrew's self-control is in shreds, but it is also for his sake. Andrew's bottomless rage will never hurt Nathaniel, and that makes all the difference in the world. Nathaniel gives Andrew's hair a cautious tug. Andrew resists the first two attempts but finally lets Nathaniel drag his attention back where it needs to be. "Abby, I just got out of the hospital," Nathaniel says without looking away from Andrew. "I'm as good as I can be right now." "Neil," Abby tries. "Please," Nathaniel stresses. He doesn't hear her step back but he knows she does by the way Andrew's death grip on his skull relaxes. Nathaniel keeps one hand buried in Andrew's hair but finally lowers the other. In quiet German he says, "Did they tell you who I am?" "They didn't have to. I choked the answers out of Kevin on the way here." Andrew ignores the way Nathaniel gapes at him and says, "Guess you weren't an orphan after all. Where is your father now?" "My uncle executed him," Nathaniel says, wondering. He crosses a precarious line and presses two fingers to Andrew's chest over his heart. The memory chills him to the bone, and he can't suppress all of a shudder. "I spent my whole life wishing he would die, but I thought he never would. I thought he was invincible. I can't believe it was that easy." "Was it easy?" Andrew asks. "Kevin told us who he worked for." Nathaniel doesn't think either agent can understand them, but names are hard to disguise in any language. He is glad Andrew is smart enough to not say the Moriyamas' name aloud. "My uncle said he was going to them to try and negotiate a ceasefire. I don't know if he's strong enough to bargain with them, but I'd like to think he wouldn't have risked it without real ground to stand on. Promise me no one's told the FBI about them." "No one's said a word to them since they said we couldn't see you."

Art used with permission by lnmei. Thank you @lnmei!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

[buttercuparry]

I cannot bear this. Parents, children, sisters, brothers everyone in Gaza has begged the world to do something, anything, to stop this genocide. We had names of journalists, hundreds of them who died, we mourned them. We reblogged videos of Moataz, of Bisan. We read aloud the poems of Refaat Alareer. Now we can't even keep track of the bombings, of the shellings, of the lives lost. We see the ICJ ruling carrying no meaning, having no power to bring Israel to justice. Every last hospital in Gaza has been bombed and so much of those structures have been made unfunctionable. Mothers cannot give birth safely, they cannot feed their children, insulin is not easily available, inhalers are running out. And still there is no ceasefire.

This is @nesmamomen 's text to me. We talked just a few minutes ago and i am shaking. A few days ago she was so distraught. She said that even prisoner's on death row are asked what their last wish was. What they wanted to eat. In Gaza people are bombed in their sleep, families are bombed on Eid. No courtesy extends to them. How is this fair?

So please pleaae help the gofundmes to reach their goal. Help families evacuate. Please please donate to Nesma's fundraiser. Follow her at @nesmamomen . She is repeatedly asking you to follow her because tumblr is nuking gazan blogs. Tumblr is shadow banning them. If you follow Nesma, then at least you will have her posts on your dash.

Link to gfm

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 9

“when the monsters creep into your house”

A/N: so, before we get into this chapter, I just wanted to say that I am still on a break, but I wanted to share this with y’all because I’m so incredibly proud of how far I’ve come as a writer. This story has truly become such an importance to me, and I am so grateful to have the opportunity to share it with you. This break has been everything I hoped it would be and with that, I have restored my love for writing. This is also my longest chapter that I have ever written. 15k to be exact! Anyway, I hope you’re all doing well and thank you for the endless support. In due time I’ll be ready to re-immerse myself into the community, but for now I am content. 🤍 happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate, and free Palestine 🇵🇸 call for a ceasefire now. Also, a big shout out to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for betaing for me! I appreciate you so much 🥹🤍

~word count: 15k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: after spending the night at Joel’s, the fragmented pieces of your past before Jackson begin to fall into place.

warnings: angst, PTSD, trauma, intense flashbacks, nightmares, child loss, implied SA (not by Joel) heavy heavy topics, hurt, comfort, foreshadowing, implied animal abuse (not done by Joel) soft flirting, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, readers nickname is Beanie (coffee beans), +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

Joel Miller’s POV

“Spend the night with me, Beanie. Please.” His words fell heavy on his tongue. His heart begging you with a steady thrum to stay. He was nervous. Nervous about how you would react to his request. While he had many moments of raw vulnerability with you, this was by far the most vulnerable admittance. It showed that he felt a deep level of trust towards you considering the only other person who knew of Ellie’s immunity was Tommy. Admittedly, if you said no to his request to spend the night, it would sting, but he’d accept it and give you the time that you needed. That didn’t erase the fact that he was waiting with a bated breath.

“Of course I’ll spend the night with you, Joel. Under one condition, you don’t snore, right?” Your tone was playful, teasing as you gently scratched his scalp with the blunt ends of your nails.

Oh, geez. How was it that one single person could read the room so well? There was something that was so purely natural to you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe one day he’d have the answer. He was relieved.

“Well, I don’t usually snore, but I won’t make any promises. Is that a deal breaker for ya, darlin?’” She’s spending the night. Here. with me.

He nearly could have purred like a damn cat from how soothing it felt to have you scratching his scalp, and playing with his hair. Oh, he had it bad alright.

“No, just means that I might have to smother you with a pillow if you do start snoring, honey.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He threatened teasingly as his fingers attempted to lightly tickle your sides, but you were quicker than that. Exchanging pet names felt easy and natural between the two of you. The banter dissolved the tension from the emotionally charged conversation that just took place

“Oh, but I would.”

Your fingers interlaced with his, thumbs brushing across the outside of his hand. He was looking directly into your eyes with a slight tilt of his head. He shamelessly thought about kissing you again now that there seemingly would be no other interruptions. His eyes flitted down to your lips. Soft. Kissable. He hadn’t kissed anyone since Tess’s passing. Even then, they didn’t share many romantic moments leading up to her death. Oh how he wishes he could have just kissed her one last time. You have to let go of the past, remember? Tess is gone. She’s never coming back, Joel. But Beanie? She’s here. She’s sitting right next to you, and she’s breathing. Her heart has a beat and there's blood pumping in her veins.

“If we keep this up, the pizza is gonna go cold, darlin.’” He tilted his head to the side with a boyish grin spreading across his lips. You swore that you saw a dimple peek through.

“Can’t have that happening.”

“Would be a shame..” He drawled thoughtfully.

Your eyes met, soft gazes melded together, brows raised before you broke out into a fit of contagious giggles. You couldn’t even depict the cause of your laughter, but he was short to follow, and man, did it feel good. Perhaps there need not be a reason. Perhaps it just felt natural to burst into giggles after such a heavy topic of discussion. You thoughtfully watched the way his eyes crinkled, and his hand grasped his belly under the worn-down fabric of his shirt. The cadence of your combined laughter echoed weightlessly through the expanse of the kitchen like a feather drifting along a gentle breeze. Ask her now. You can do it, Joel. Let your heart feel, for god sakes.

“Well, now I’m real fuckin’ hungry, darlin.’” He drawled warmly as he reached for your hands.

“Felt good though, didn’t it?”

He smiled knowingly as he nodded, “Felt damn good.” His hands grasped yours firmly before he gently released them and slowly stood up.

Your mouth watered the second he removed the pizza from the oven with a well-loved oven mitt that had little hearts stitched artfully through the fabric. He set the tray carefully along the countertop to cool. “It’s gonna be a few minutes for the pizza to cool. Don’t wanna go and burn our tongues off.” He chortled softly as he slowly descended back down to your level.

His palms were growing clammy by the second as he watched your discreet body language under the soft glow of the overhanging kitchen light. He watched the way you moved in closer to him, as if you were both magnets being drawn together by an invisible force that was slowly reeling you in. He watched your eyes, and how they never seemed to leave his own. He watched the way your lips parted open, soft and sweet like two glistening peach halves. Dew kissed rose petals being warmed by the sun's rays. Joel Miller would never consider himself to be a hopeless romantic, but you’d beg to disagree.

“Fuck it.” he whispered under his breath, nearly undetectable to your ears.

“What?”

He breathed in slow and deep as his lips parted like the narrow sea. “Beanie,” He breathed out. “Can I please kiss you?”

A moment to breathe passed before you slowly nodded in consent, “Yes, Joel. Please kiss me.”

He leaned in slowly, the bridge of his nose gently brushing against your own as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. His hands gently rose to caress either side of your face. He held you like delicate fine china in his palms. Those very same hands could take away a life with a snap and twisting of his wrists. You held no fear because you knew this man. You knew Joel Miller as if he had been in your life forever. In some way, he had. Inconspicuously he had touched your life before the outbreak, and now you were finding one another in a new light.

The gap between your lips was tortuously closing at a slow pace. He was taking his time with you, but only if you knew that internally, he was wishing that he could take your breath away with a swift kiss. Time felt like it ceased to exist the moment his lips molded against your own. Although they were slightly chapped, Joel Miller’s lips were like two soft pillows, and he’d describe yours as candy floss. The sweet, sugary kind that used to be consumed in carnivals and fairs. He sighed into your mouth as his thumb brushed across your cheekbone. Your lips moved together in sync, but he could taste your hesitation lingering on your tongue.

“Joel..” You murmured against his lips.

“S’okay,” He spoke with utter reassurance. “You’re safe here with me.”

That’s all it took for you to let yourself go as your arms wrapped around his neck with ease, pressing your lips further into his.

His heart felt ignited with a newfound feeling that had laid dormant for so long. Fuck the pizza, he thought to himself. Nothing can ever come close to this moment.

The kiss was short lived, and lasted all of 30 seconds, but it was only because he could taste the salt from your tears along his tongue as he slowly detached his lips from yours. A tiny sliver of saliva kept you connected, until that dissipated too.

Why is she crying?

Oh, god. What have I done?

I knew this was foolish of me.

He didn’t even realize that his own tears began to free-fall from the corner of his eyes. He was too hyper focused on you.

“Beanie, what’s wrong? Darlin’ is it somethin’ I’ve done? I’m so sorry my dear, I–”

You cut him off with a surprised urgency as your hands dropped to his face and his strong jaw. You nearly threw yourself into his lap from how fervently you kissed him. On instinct, his hands found your waist to hold you steady as he kissed you back with the same amount of passion that you held for him. Your breaths synced harmoniously before you parted ways and pressed your forehead into the fabric of his shirt. An overflowing tide of emotions swept through the two of you as he cradled your head protectively to his chest. His head came to rest upon the lower cabinet as his eyes fluttered shut.

I’m here.

I’ll keep you safe.

No harm will come your way.

My girl. My girl. My beautiful sweet girl.

The pizza had significantly cooled off by the time yours and Joel’s emotions calmed down and he had wiped away every last tear that had dripped down your beautiful soft-spoken eyes. He left your side only to grab two plates and divvy the slices between the two of you. You sat side by side on the floor, as you ate in a comfortable silence.

I should check in and see how she’s doing. Maybe asking her to spend the night was too much.

Maybe this moved too fast?

Maybe I should just shut up and stop overthinking every single little fuckin’ detail.

“How’s it tastin?’” He finally asked as he set his plate off to the side.

“Tastes just as good as I remember it to be. Might even be better.” You responded with a small smile of gratitude.

“You ain’t gotta say that jus’ to be polite, darlin.’ Y’can be honest with me.”

“Joel, it’s seriously delicious. You’re a good cook.”

“And you make a fabulous sous chef.” He murmured with a grin between his teeth as he turned his head to look over at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you rested your plate on your lap.

“Like what?” He asked softly.

“Like I am the only girl in the room.”

His brow raised as he pondered your response. You were literally the only girl in the room, but he was able to pick up on the silent signals, and read the context clues to your words.

“Darlin’, you don’t have to be afraid of me, or this, okay? Look, I understand if me askin’ you to spend the night might have been too much, and if that is the case, I’ve got no problem walking you home. But, if you do still want to spend the night with me, I promise we don’t have to..y’know, do anythin.’” He cleared his throat nervously as his eyes silently searched your own.

“Joel, I’m not afraid of you. I promise that it’s not that. I just—it’s been so long since..I’ve liked someone this much. The last guy I had romantic feelings for, was shortly before outbreak day. We actually had a date planned on the night of the outbreak. He canceled because he said his mom was sick and he needed to go and check on her. I never heard from him after that.” You murmured somberly as your hand slowly came to rest upon his cheek, stroking your thumb gently across the patches in his silver speckled beard.

“Baby, s’alright. I understand. S’been awhile for me as well, as you know. I’m sorry that you never heard from him again. Was he uh—your boyfriend? Or just someone you had met?” He leaned into your soft caress as his hand slowly came to rest upon your knee, rubbing soothing circles into the fabric.

He liked that you both shared a liking towards physical touch. He always wanted to be touching those he loved in some shape or form.

“No, he wasn’t my boyfriend. It was actually going to be our second date, and I was truly excited about it. We met in line at the local grocers, and my clumsy ass nearly dropped an entire carton of milk. He was..really sweet. Sometimes I wonder if he survived outbreak day, and if he did, would we find each other again.” Your thumb gently brushed across his lower lip before you were leaning in and kissing him sweetly as his lashes fluttered shut.

“Oh, darlin.’ I’m so sorry. I jus’ hope that if he didn’t make it, he went out painless. Sometimes I often forget that so many people lost something that night. Friends. Family. Lovers. It’s so easy to get caught up in your own grief and forget everyone else’s.” He mumbled against your lips as he squeezed your knee tenderly.

“It’s okay, Joel. Really, it’s okay. I got over it as soon as I realized that I had a decent chance at survival. Had to push my own grief far into the depths. Tess helped a lot. When we found each other I just had this feeling that it was meant to be. I wouldn’t have made it very far without her.” You slowly pulled away from the kiss as your forehead gently lowered to rest against his. “If I’m gonna spend the night, I sure hope you have a good pair of pj’s for me, Miller.” You teased softly as you gently twirled a strand of his salt and peppered hair between your fingers.

“She’s a good horse. Y’all have a special bond that I doubt could ever be broken. Darlin’ , you can wear any pj’s of mine that you’d like. Y’can keep ‘em too. But, before we head upstairs, there’s somethin’ I wanna show you. Would that be alright?”

“What do you want to show me, Joel?”

“You’ll see, darlin.’ Y’trust me, right?”

“Always.”

Joel offered you his arm like the true southern gentleman he was. He softly told you to leave the plates for now, and he would take care of that later. You took his arm graciously with a gentle grasp as he led you outside.

“Jus’ so ya know, the only two people who have seen my little wood workin’ shed, as I would call it, is Tommy and Ellie. But, you’re awfully special to me, Beanie. And I wanna share this piece of myself with you.”

“Joel, you know you don’t have to do this, right? I am absolutely honored that you want to share this part of yourself with me.” You murmured in a honeyed tone as your fingers gently flexed along his forearm.

He turned towards you, pausing in a moment of thought before he smiled. A real genuine smile that showed the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes that came with the process of aging. How precious a moment for you to see Joel Miller with his guard down. Even in the lowlight, you could see the way his eyes sparkled as he looked at you with tenderness.

“Best get used to it, darlin.’ Cus’ one day, I’m gonna share everything with you.”

His words were taken as a promise. An oath that you were not just a stepping stone in his path towards healing and living a peaceful domestic life. You mattered, and he made you feel like the sun was something that he crafted just for you with his bare hands in his toolshed. And the millions of stars that painted the night sky in twinkling light, were his secrets, and all he had to do was reach up and pluck one from the string it hung upon and bring it down to you. The stardust would bloom like a rose in your palm as if by magic. All in due time he’d bring a star down to you. All in due time.

At least in this lifetime, you’d finally understand what all the fairytales and romance novels were talking about.

His lips brushed your forehead in a velvety kiss before he nudged the shed door open with his shoulder and flicked on the light directly to the left of his head.

Remnants of sawdust coated the air as you followed him inside. His work station was fairly tidy sans a few stray tools that didn’t quite find their home, yet. You could feel his presence lingering behind you as you admired the wood carved fawn that was nearing its completed stages.

“This is darling. Did you make it for someone?” You asked softly as he pulled up the stool next to you and made himself comfortable.

“Made that one for Ellie. After I gifted her that felt fawn from your trinket bowl, I felt inspired to make her a wooden version. Got a rocket ship I'm workin’ on as well, but animal anatomy is far easier to work with than machine parts.” He mused as he rested his palm along his chin comfortably.

“I’m sure she’ll love it, Joel.”

“Hopin’ so. Got somethin’ I’m workin’ on for you as well.” He murmured with a gesture towards the figure covered with a white sheet to keep it a surprise.

You turned your head to the side, catching his gaze before you smiled. “Really? Can I see it?”

“‘Fraid not, my dear. Ain’t finished with it, yet. And I wanna keep it a surprise for now. Think you can be patient?” His brow raised as his lips curved up into a small grin.

“Oh, alright. I suppose I can be patient, for now.”

“Are ya sure you’re actually capable of being patient, darlin?’ He asked teasingly, his eyes flickered with unbridled mischief like two high-hanging mirror balls.

You leaned in with the same mischief dancing in your irises. It felt good to flirt, real good. He could easily say the same thing.

“I think the real question is, are you capable of being patient, Miller?”

A challenge. And a good one at that.

Joel had felt like a horny, love-sick teenage boy all over again.

He reveled in it.

Before he could answer, you slipped off the other stool with ease as you gingerly picked up one of the wood chisels that was laying around nearby. You twirled the handle in your palm with glee as you danced around the workbench, feeling his eyes never leaving you.

“So, what’s this one called?” You knew it was a wood chisel, but playing dumb for a moment felt fun and carefree.

“It’s a wood chisel. S’what I use when I'm carving out details and such. Got a whole set of ‘em. They’re quite handy.” He was already up from his stool as well as he followed you around the corner of the workbench.

“Fascinating.” You responded with a playful grin as you placed the chisel down where you found it before picking up a small screwdriver. “And this?”

He chuckled, shaking his head with a grin. “That would be a screwdriver, princess.”

Something unreadable flashed in your eyes. It was there, and gone as fast as it came.

“I totally knew that.” Your tone was an octave higher than usual, but you masked it well by tossing the screwdriver to the side before reaching for his hands.

“I know you did, honey.” He drawled smoothly as he found himself stepping between your legs where you were casually leaned up against the bench.

You were locked onto one another like two magnets as he slowly brought your interlocked hands above your head. He studied your expression for a moment as he silently waited for your consent, and once it was given, his lips were pressed to yours once more as your back naturally began to descend against the saw dust covered surface.

The tension in the air rose and thickened the atmosphere. The only sounds that could be detected were your lips moving in a passionate filled embrace, and the crickets chirping just outside the door.

He was the one to break the kiss with a breathy chuckle. “Seems like you and I are turnin’ into a couple of horny teens, huh?”

You liked the way his cheeks were flushed, and his lips swollen from your kisses.

“Indeed we are. I feel so alive. Do you?”

“Yes. The most alive I have felt in years, Beanie.” He murmured as he gently pulled you back up into a sitting position. His hands departed from your own and proceeded to brush away any sawdust that had stubbornly clung to your clothing. “Let's head in, yeah? I’ll make us some tea before bed. Chamomile?”

“Sounds delightful.” You pecked his cheek sweetly, and his cheeks reddened once more.

Joel left you to your own devices as he tidied up the kitchen. When you softly protested to help with the dishes, he shook his head and gently nudged you towards the staircase followed by a short peck to your lips. “Go on. I’ll be up shortly, darlin’.’”

“Joel, are you sure you want me to go up there alone? I mean, it’s your private space and–”

“Beanie,” He breathed softly against your lips. “S’okay. I trust you, remember?”

“Okay. Are you sure you don’t want any help down here?”

He shook his head once more as he nudged you up a few steps. “No. I’ll be alright. Go on now.” He pressed softly.

Your reluctance was noted, but Joel trusted you, and that was a fact. So, what did you really have to fear?

Your soft-padded footsteps led you further up the stairs before your body disappeared from his view. His bedroom was down the hall from Ellie’s. Like a classic teenager, her door had a sign in bold red lettering that said “KEEP OUT”. Oh to be a teenager again.

Joel’s bedroom was exactly how you pictured it to be; homey. His bed was neatly made with both sets of pillows fluffed to perfection. On his nightstand contained a book titled, “Idiot's Guide to Space” and on top of the book were his old man reading glasses.

Cute.

You didn’t want to appear as if you were snooping around, but it was hard not to when two seemingly photographs caught your attention. You padded over to the dresser with a genuine curiosity. Upon closer inspection, the first photograph encased a younger Joel with his arm around who you presumed to be his daughter. Sarah truly was the apple of his eye.

“Winning that game was a big moment for her.” Joel’s warm tone lingered in the open doorway.

“She’s beautiful, Joel.” You murmured in response as you gently set the frame down.

“She was.” He solemnly corrected you as he made his way into the room.

You could feel the heaviness weighing in his heart as his footsteps approached. You hated to think that right now he was picturing his baby girl laying in her shallow grave. She was far too young.

“Joel, please. Don’t go to that place. Sarah is beautiful, and I wish I could have had the opportunity of knowing her.”

“She woulda loved you. I’m almost sure of it. The two of you woulda been as thick as thieves.” He was standing alongside you now with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his worn out jeans.

Your gaze softened as it landed upon the second photograph. Joel and Ellie side by side, looking into Shimmer’s stall.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, Beanie?” His question startled your current thoughts as you slowly met his gaze.

“You mean when I said that Ellie would forgive you eventually, and she just needs time to heal, and so do you?”

“Yes. Y’meant that, right? You actually believe that Ellie can forgive me? That her and I will be okay again?”

“Joel, I believe that everyone can be forgiven to an extent. What you did is what any parent would do for their child. In due time she might understand, and forgive you. But, you need to start believing that yourself. Feel it in your heart that you and her will be alright. These things are delicate, and they take time, Joel.”

You could feel his muscles clench as he inhaled deeply. Sometimes hearing the truth hurt, but it was necessary.

“I guess I don’t know how to be patient at all.” He murmured with a slight shrug.

“No, that’s not true at all, Joel. You miss her, and that is completely understandable.”

“I’d do it all over again. If I was given the chance to make up for it, there ain’t a damn thing I woulda done differently.” His nostrils flared from his admittance. As if he was a once dormant volcano that was becoming active again.

“I know, Joel. I know.” You talked him down.

He appeared to be lost in his own thoughts before his shoulders finally returned to a relaxed position. “Let me get you some pj’s so you can change, and then i’ll go make our tea.”

You nodded silently as he pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and grabbed a pair of plaid pajama pants and plain t-shirt. He placed them gently into your arms. “I think there might be an extra toothbrush in one of the drawers in the bathroom. I’ll uh–give ya some privacy.” He backed off like a dog with its tail between his legs. He could already feel the shame begin to creep up every vertebrae in his spine as he slipped past the open doorway. He just wanted to be normal. To not feel this constant weight on his shoulders, or grief in his heart. He wished for happiness. To smile more. To laugh. To enjoy the life he had left to live. To love without the fear of losing.

You wished that for him too.

When he returned with two steaming mugs of herbal tea, he found you already safely tucked under the covers. ‘The Idiot’s Guide to Space’ book in your grasp. His heart swelled as he set his owl mug down along the nightstand as he offered you the other mug. A moose grazing in a snowy field was illustrated along the outside of the mug. You looked up, pausing in the paragraph you were reading, before grasping the mug gently from him. “I hope you don’t mind me reading it. The title intrigued me.” You murmured.

“Don’t mind at all. It’s got some fascinating stuff in’t.” He responded warmly before he pulled the covers back and climbed underneath them. His shoulder brushed yours as he made himself comfortable.

“Would you like me to read it to you?” Your suggestion was soft and thoughtful as his eyes met yours.

“I’d love that, Beanie.”

You naturally found yourself scooting in towards his side of the bed. You wanted to be closer to him. To feel that intimate connection that had sent a new fire scorching through your veins. His arm slowly came to rest along your shoulders while the back of your head found its home against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, his breaths soft as your words soothed him like a lullaby soothes a child. It wasn’t long before he was nodding off, struggling to keep his eyes open, but he soon gave into sleep and you followed shortly

“Joel! Help me, please! Joel!” Ellie’s screams were anguished. Frightened.

The steps leading to the basement seemed never ending as Joel raced down them. Adrenaline pumped fiercely in his veins. “Ellie!” He screamed, voice raw and cracking. His fists pounded on the door as he desperately tried to break it down. Her terrified screams rattled his skull as the thin skin of his knuckles tore and bled. “Baby girl!” He cried.

Ellie’s screams for help dissipated and turned into a harsh ringing in his ears. The never ending staircase and basement door ceased to exist.

“Joel! Joel! Wake up! Please, wake up!” Your tone was urgent, frightened as you grasped his shoulders firmly to shake him free of his nightmare.

His screams sent a wave of nausea rushing through you . “Joel, you’re safe! It's just a nightmare! It's not real, Joel!”

His eyes snapped open as he took in a lungful of air. His arms encircled around your waist as he looked around the room wildly. His shirt was soaked all the way through. “Ellie! She–she. I–I couldn’t reach her! I couldn’t save her!” He wailed profusely as you tried every attempt to calm him down.

“Joel. Listen to me, baby. It was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Ellie is safe. She’s safe!” Your hands came to gently rest upon his cheeks as if your fingertips alone could wipe away the fear leaking from his eyes. You kissed away his tears as he trembled in your embrace. He wept as you consoled him.

Your fingers combed through his hair as you began to hum a tune of the past as one last final attempt to bring him back down to earth. Your humming transformed into words as his heart beat steadied its rhythm.

“And you will keep me safe.” You whispered.

“And you will keep me warm.” He croaked.

“And rain.”

“And rain.” He followed with a soft painful whimper.

“Will make the flowers.”

“Will make the flowers grow.” You wept in unison.

Joel awoke the following morning, rising with the sun that was beginning to peek through the beige curtains in his cozy bedroom. He was careful not to disturb you in your peaceful slumber as he detangled his legs from your own before swinging them over the side of the bed with a soft grunt. Despite the familiar ache in his back, he urged himself to stand as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The floorboards creaked beneath the weight of his footsteps as he padded off to his connected bathroom. Despite the nightmare he endured just a few hours ago, he felt moderately well rested. He splashed a bit of luke-warm water onto his face before he proceeded to brush his teeth.

He returned to his side of the bed shortly after as he quietly dressed for the day before he scribbled down a note for you to awake to. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he was leaving in a hurry, or feeling like the events that took place last night were a mistake. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. His handwriting was chicken scratch compared to your gentle strokes of the pen, but was legible at least.

Good morning, darlin.’ I'm headed down to the stables to build a pen for Honey. Help yourself to some coffee, and whatever else you’d like. I’ll be back in time to take you to breakfast.

-Your Joel.

So what if he was a bit of a sap, you were, after all, the first person he showed vulnerability to since Tess. This was as big a deal for him as it was for you, but it felt natural. As natural as breathing, as putting one foot in front of the other.

He found Honey still curled up in the corner of the couch as he stopped to give the fawn a gentle pat on her furry little head. He couldn’t help but think of the horrors that would have been unleashed on her if he didn’t rescue her in the woods. Surely, she would have been ripped to shreds.

Vile.

With one final delicate pat to her head, he reached for the blanket that was wrapped around the tiny creature, and gently tucked the corners in so she was a nice snug bug in a rug. he shuffled away to tug on his working boots before he grabbed his every-day use tool box from the closet. A ghost of a smile was tugging on his lips as he swung the metal loop of his house keys between his fingers. He was so lucky to know that just up the stairs, you lay beneath his sheets.

Even in the early morning hours, Joel could taste humidity on his tongue. July was already proving to be a sweltering one. He was too caught up in his saccharine thoughts of you back in his cozy home, to hear footsteps approaching behind him. Well, it also didn’t help that he was partially deaf in his right ear.

When he pushed open the stable doors, he was greeted with a few friendly nickers as he made his way down the stall aisle. He had developed a particular soft spot for your mare, Tess, for obvious reasons. She was sweet, gentle, kind-hearted just like you. And as silly as it may sound, he saw his Tess in your mare’s eyes.

Tex’s sleek black neck was already craning over his stall door as he pressed his velvet soft muzzle into Joel’s flannel pocket affectionately.

“Ah, I see. Am I jus’ a treat dispenser to ya now, Tex? Knew that Beanie was gonna give ya a sweet tooth.” He murmured with a deep chuckle as he set his tool box down alongside the outside of Tex’s stall. “I think your lady deserves a sugar cube first, dontcha think?”

Tex pawed the loose hay in his stall with a soft snort as Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of sugarcubes to give to Tess. She didn’t like most men in Jackson, but she already adored your Joel.

The tender felt moment between beast and man was cut short from the sound of the stable doors creaking open once more. There was a sudden edge to the docile air as Lucas strode in casually.

Joel’s jaw clenched harshly under the dust filled light rays that trickled in through the cracks in the stables roof. Golden light flooded through the spaces between the wood as his eyes narrowed downwards between his boots. He was not in the mood for conversation of any kind this early in the morning, and especially not from an individual he already believed to be suspicious.

“Miller?” Lucas asked as he approached with his arms swaying at his sides. “What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“Could ask you the same,” The older man muttered under his breath.

Lucas heard him, but pretended he didn’t. “What was that?”

Joel kicked at a stray rock with the toe of his boot as he straightened himself up so that he could appear more intimidating. “I think you heard exactly what I said.”

Lucas raised a brow with an amused grin as he stopped in front of Tess’s stall. “You really can’t fuckin’ stand me, huh?” Before Joel could answer, Lucas waved him off as if they were friends having a minor disagreement.

Tess immediately took a few nervous steps back from where Lucas was leaning against the side of her stall door. Her sudden erratic behavior set Tex off immediately as he pawed the ground fiercely, and flattened his ears to the back of his skull. A territorial display that sent hairs standing up on the back of Joel’s neck almost immediately.

Joel knew that horses had a tendency to be sensitive towards certain people, but he had never seen Tess respond in this manner. It was..odd.

Lucas paid no mind to the mare's behavior as he focused his attention back on the older man. “So, who does this beauty belong to anyway?”

Joel started to stiffen before he relaxed his shoulders with a slow roll. “She’s Beanie’s.” he muttered flatly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few more sugar cubes and held them outstretched in his palm towards Tess.

Your mare took a few timid steps forwards, before she gently ate the treats right from Joel’s palm. However, as soon as Lucas reached his hand upwards to stroke her snow white neck, she shied away from his touch as the whites of her eyes shone like two pale ghosts as Tex proceeded to send his hoof colliding loudly into the side of his stall; don’t mess with his lady.

Lucas oddly didn’t seem fazed by the mare’s bizarre behavior as he shrugged his shoulders with exaggerated casualness, “mares have never been a fan of me.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Was Joel’s gruff response as he turned his back to pick up his toolbox once more. He proceeded to ignore the ‘intruder’ as he set to work on building a pen for Honey right next to Tex’s stall. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

The only problem was that Lucas had a godawful time at reading the fucking room, or he was doing this to get a rise out of Joel on purpose.

“Speaking of you and Beanie, what’s goin’ on between the two of you anyway? Hearin’ whisperin’s here and there that you and her are like an item.” He drawled smoothly.

“Ain’t think that’s much of your concern, or business to have, Lucas.” Joel’s tone was muffled as he spoke into the fabric of his flannel along his shoulder.

“Ah, I hear ya there, brother. Gotta be careful with a woman like that. They can be real heartbreakers if ya ain’t careful.”

He’s baiting you, Joel. Don’t fall for it.

“Yeah? How would you know the type of woman she is, and isn’t?” Joel delivered his response with ease as he pulled out a tape measure.

“Not sayin’ that I do, jus’ that I've been around enough women like her to know what I'm talkin’ about. And a woman like that can’t be held down. They’re flighty and callus. One second you think you’re special to them, and the next—”

“Well, who said anythin’ about me wantin’ to hold her down? She’s her own person, Lucas. I don’t own her.” Joel gritted through his teeth.

Don’t give in. Don’t give in.

Joel could hear the younger, cockier man smirking through his teeth. “So, she’s not your girl then is what you’re sayin?’ Huh. I surely thought you two were an item.”

The sound of the tape measurer clanking into the toolbox with a loud thud was all Lucas needed to know that he won. Joel straightened his back as he stood up and whipped around, fully ready to go toe to toe to get this gnat out of his face.

“Y’know what you remind me of? A snake.” Joel seethed as his fists trembled at his sides. “A snake in the tall weeds just waiting to strike. What’s your angle, Lucas?” his eyes narrowed as Lucas watched in pure amusement to watch the brave and unmovable Joel Miller slowly losing his composure.

“A snake, huh? Think more like a wolf. And you’re the boneheaded moose thinkin’ you’re unbreakable. Look at you now, Joel Miller. Trembling with rage from just my words. You know what I think?” He leaned in close enough just in case the older man couldn’t clearly hear him. “Even the strongest moose can be taken down by a pack.” He sneered.

Something inside of Joel snapped like a coil being pulled tight and he saw red as his hands grasped the lapels of the younger man's shirt with a furious rage.’ “Y’want me to go ahead and fuckin’ break the other wrist, huh?! Cus’ I can do that. Right here. Right now if you wanna keep makin’ these threats. We can have a real fuckin—”

“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN’ ON HERE?” It was Tommy, and Joel had never felt so relieved to see his brother in that moment as he released Lucas from his death-grip grasp.

Lucas looked like a deer in headlights as he was not expecting Tommy’s sudden arrival. Yet, he held his composure as he combed his fingers through his hair. “Your brother here was jus’ threatening to break my other wrist jus’ now.”

“Yeah, I heard that bit, right after you threatened him first. Get lost, now. Before I change my mind and report this directly to Maria. The hell you thinkin’ rilin’ my brother up like that?!”

Lucas was dumbfounded and ego-wounded. Most importantly, he was and always would be a coward. His eyes locked on Joel’s, and then Tommy’s before he slunk away in a wolf-like fashion through the stable doors.

Neither Miller brother spoke for a while as it appeared they were processing what had happened. Joel opted to slowly sink down between Tex’s and Tess’s stall with his hands resting between his knees as he worked on steadying his heartbeat to normal.

“Hey, Tommy?” Joel started, “How much of a’that did ya hear?”

“Enough to know that Lucas was purposely trying to get a rise out of you.” Tommy responded as he walked over to Timber’s stall and tightly shook his head.

Joel breathed out an immediate sigh of relief as he slumped back against the stall doors. “Tommy? Did Lucas show up to Jackson before, or after you and Maria found Beanie?”

Both brothers slowly met one another's gaze as Tommy gently stroked Timber’s neck with a steady palm. “After,” he confirmed Joel’s immediate suspicions.

Joel watched in silence as his brother walked over to him before he bent down and offered Joel his hand to help him up.

“Tommy, how come I didn’t hear ya come in?” Joel mumbled as he firmly grasped his brother’s hand before pulling himself up to his feet with a grunt.

Tommy could feel his heart begin to slowly sink into the pit of his stomach. Just like the way that the sun would gradually dip behind the horizon at the end of each day. He gave his brother a mournful look as he gently placed his hand along the right side of Joel’s head, and brushed his thumb across the scar. Right against the spot where the bullet missed. “Y’know why, brother.” He murmured softly with a heavy heart.

Joel knew, it was there, written into his skin. He swallowed his tears that were beginning to brew as he wrapped his arms around his brother and hugged him tightly. “Tommy, somethin’ ain’t right here. I’m gettin’ that sick feelin’ in my stomach. Were you here to see the way Tess acted towards Lucas?”

“Somethin’ definitely ain’t right. I told ya that I’d have your back, big brother. Remember? I arrived a bit too late. Musta missed that bit.”

Joel nodded as he slowly dropped his arms to his sides. “Well, she flipped out. I’m talkin’ like a complete 180 as soon as Lucas tried to touch her, Tommy. Pissed Tex the hell off as well. Somethin’ about it was...odd. Almost like she recognized his face or, she jus’ could sense that he ain’t a good person.”

“Well, horses are pretty sensitive creatures, so it is possible that maybe...”

Joel’s jaw inwardly clenched as his brain was replaying the events that just took place. There were numerous red flags that went ablazing. Tess’s fear towards Lucas. Lucas prying for information… And what the hell was the whole thing about him referring to himself as a wolf, and Joel as the boneheaded moose?

“I think we oughta start keepin’ a watchful eye on him. For all we know, he could be plannin’ somethin’ right under our noses. Tommy, the last thing you and I or Maria want is for someone to turn up missing. What about Ellie and Dina? The rest of the women around here? The sooner we–”

“Joel,” Tommy started with a heavy sigh, “I hear ya, but we need evidence. Cold. Hard. Evidence. I’d start by documenting what happened just now. Write it down in full detail. I’ll write up my own report on it as well. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on his whereabouts, alright?”

Joel let out a heavy sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, cus’ that’s the only way Maria would ever believe us.”

“We need to have shit to back up our accusations.” “Hey, while you’re here, mind helpin’ me build this pen for Honey? I gotta get back home in time to take Beanie to breakfast. I left her a note, but I don’t want her thinkin’ that I ditched her or somethin’.” Joel casually stated. Once he realized what he said, it was too late, and Tommy already had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Hold on a second now. Did you n’Beanie have a sleepover last night? As in she slept in your bed? Woo doggy, it’s about damn time!” Tommy nearly hollered as he went to give his brother a proper slap on his back.

Joel’s entire face turned beet red as he coughed into the sleeve of his flannel to hopefully hide his obvious blushing. “Uhh–yeah. You can call it a sleepover, I guess? Look, I don’t need ya goin’ and makin’ a big deal outta this. We kissed, and then I asked her if she would spend the night. That’s all that happened.” Well, we kissed a few times actually.

“Y’all kissed?! Joel, this is a big deal! Are ya kiddin’ me? Big brother, this is amazing news! Look at you bein’ the romantic!”

Joel let out a frustrated groan when he realized he wasn’t gonna get out of this one that easily. “Yeah. Yeah. We kissed, and I really like her, Tommy. So, can we just keep this between the two of us? I don’t want Maria, or anyone else for that matter gossipin’ about my private life.”

“Riiiight. Cus’ I’m jus’ gonna go and shout it from the rooftops that my big brother finally grew a pair and kissed the girl. Thank fuck. Honestly, I'm surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” The younger Miller brother was genuinely happy for his older counterpart. Everyone deserved that someone in their life, but Joel especially.

“I was jus’ buying myself time. Last thing I'd ever wanna do is unintentionally offend or hurt her. Now, will ya do some work for once in your life and hand me those wooden boards o’there?” he gestured to the planks of wood that were resting along one of the empty stalls. “All I will say is that woman is amazing. Not to sound like a total cliché, but she’s a breath of fresh air. Sunlight after a raging storm. She’s–”

“Made of stardust and coffee beans.” Tommy chimed in with a playful grin. “Well, you got it bad, Joel. S’alright. Happens to the best of us.” He shot his brother a knowing wink before he retrieved the wooden boards with ease.

Joel couldn’t help but allow a tiny glimpse of a smile tug on his lips from Tommy’s words. A moment of peace and blissful thoughts was better than dwelling on the elephant in the room. Something was unquestionably off about Lucas, and his rather alarming behavior.

*end Joel’s POV*

In the safety and familiar warmth of Joel’s sheets, your mind was free to wander and romp. Your brain's natural defenses to block out painful memories and terrifying events, crumbled as you subconsciously breathed in the comforting scent of Joel, your Joel. Unbeknownst to you, he was your ticket to peace. Your shining beacon of light through a pitch black formidable darkness.

As a gentle breeze swayed through the curtains in his bedroom, you were subconsciously reliving your time before Jackson. Before Maria, Tommy, and Joel. Memories that were once fragmented and jagged, were being pieced together behind softly closed lashes.

dead of the winter; post outbreak. Date unspecified. 50 miles from Jackson.

Tess was gradually growing weaker with each step she took through the billowing snow. Your horse was strong-footed and able bodied, but even she had her limits. You were beginning to feel numbness engulf your body. It felt like a thousand shards of ice impaling your skin. Your lungs ached and burned from the sub-zero temperatures. Your fingers and toes were growing stiff as you urged your mare onwards.

“Just a bit further, please, Tess. We—we can’t stop now.” You murmured through chattering teeth as the wind whipped wildly and howled in your ears.

All hope seemed to disintegrate through your frozen lashes as you could feel your body begin to shut down. It was giving up, but you weren’t ready for death's cold grasp.

You were a survivor, after all.

Smoke. Fire. Warmth.

A miracle, or a hallucination created by your deteriorating body. The fact of the matter was that you were not going to die tonight. Tess seemed to sense your desperation and urgency as she forced herself to continue forward towards the looming evergreens. The distinguishable smell of ash wafted through your nostrils the closer you drew to the campsite. You knew that fire also meant danger, but your brain had gone into survival mode and could give less of a fuck about that.

The campsite you and Tess stumbled upon seemed to be unoccupied. It should have raised your suspicions, but when you collapsed from your saddle and landed on the snowy ground with a soft thud, you convinced yourself it was a miracle. You dragged yourself closer to the fire with whatever strength you had left and rubbed your frozen gloved hands together to create some friction.

Tess’s velvet soft muzzle nudged at your back as she checked to make sure that you were okay. Her ears perked and flicked in the direction of a familiar nicker as she lifted her head quickly to observe her surroundings. Four horses were seen happily munching away on a heap of hay. Your poor mare hadn’t eaten in what felt like weeks, and her own survival instincts kicked in as she approached the other horses with timid curiosity.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hunched over in relief. You didn’t believe in God, but if you did, then this fire must have been brought to you by a goddamn angel.

Your relief turned to dread the moment you felt the cooling sensation of metal kissing the back of your neck.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” The voice commanded as you slowly raised your arms above your head to show that you were no immediate threat.

“I’m—sorry. I assumed no one was here—I’m freezing.” Your teeth were still audibly chattering as you craned your neck to look up at the person the voice belonged to.

A man.

“Are you alone?” He had not removed the barrel of his gun from your neck as he proceeded to pat you down with his freehand.

“Yes, I am alone.”

He paused momentarily as he pondered on what should be done with you, the intruder.

“Where are you headed to?” He asked firmly.

“Nowhere. Just got caught up in this storm, and seeking shelter.”

“I see..and you’re not lyin’ when you said that you’re alone?”

“I swear on my life, I am alone. It’s just my horse Tess and I.” You pleaded softly as you took a shaky inhale through your nose.

“I believe you.”

Your shoulders immediately slumped in relief as you released the breath you were holding.

The man slowly retracted his gun into his holster before he offered you his hand. The first thing you noticed was his tattooed skin on the inside of his wrist. The fabric of his jacket had lifted just enough for you to make out the design. A wolf head with beady red eyes that appeared to be staring right into your soul.

“Thank you. I’ll be out of your hair by the morning. I just need to warm up a bit if that’s alright?” You grasped his outstretched hand as he gently hoisted you to your feet.

“Nonsense. You’re freezin’, and probably starvin’, right? C’mon, let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

You were beyond starving, but he didn’t need to know that. You were slightly weary of this stranger's sudden hospitality, but that didn’t deter you from making the choice that would haunt you forever.

“I suppose..I could eat something.” You mumbled under your breath.

He smiled, it appeared genuine on the surface, but it masked unspeakable evil beneath white teeth, and kind eyes.

He told you his name, and you told him yours as he led you to his nearby tent. Your body shamelessly relaxed as he offered you safety and food in your belly. If only you knew what was to come.

You didn’t leave the following morning. Or the morning after . Nor the morning after that. You stuck around because the truth was, you weren’t going to survive on your own for much longer, and here was an opportunity that your brain was screaming at you to not pass up on. Endure and survive, and survive you did. Even if it meant joining a raiders camp.

It didn’t happen overnight, as trust takes time to be built and nurtured, but when it did happen, the lines were gradually blurred. Was this a genuine feeling from your heart that hadn’t been touched by another soul since before the outbreak, or was this simply your brain concocting a plan to keep your heart beating, and your blood pumping. The fact of the matter was that you firmly believed your body was incapable of dipping back into the shredded remnants of intimacy that you left behind in Austin. One thing was for certain, this man offered you protection, warmth, and steady nutrients, and you’d be damned if you let that go.

In your eyes, you consensually engaged in a physical relationship with this man. Make him want you. Make him need you so much that you’ll never live in fear again. Because once you make him believe that he is important, he’ll protect you till your last dying breath.

If only it were that easy. If only you knew that the monsters weren’t the cordyceps, but instead they were shaped as a man that you willingly shared a tent with.

You thought you had played him like a fiddle, but he was onto you without you realizing it. He had your little game all figured out, and when you did, it was too late.

Those same kind eyes, and bright smile was the last thing you remember seeing before everything went black as your body slumped into his lap. The tea mug that was in your hands now clattered to the ground, shattering upon impact. Your arm fell limp at your side as your breath stilled. Unbeknownst to you, the tea he gave you was laced, and now you were at his mercy.

When you awoke the following morning, your mind was groggy and laden with confusion as you tried to piece together the missing fragments of last night’s events . The ground was cold beneath you as your eyes fluttered open. The coolness of metal bit fiercely at your bare skin giving you goosebumps You were encaged; literally. Surrounded by steel bars as you struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position, but it felt like your body weighed a ton of bricks. You tried to scream, but your vocal chords felt shot as your voice fell silent.

You shook the bars with a new instilled fear as tears flooded your cheeks like a rushing river. Your eyes frantically looked around as a heavy pair of boots slowly approached.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you, princess.” The familiar voice cooed unpleasantly and bile rose up your throat.

“You—you did this to me! Why?!” Your voice cracked. Your brain was scrambling to piece your broken memory together. One moment you were drinking tea, and the next—

“You played me for a fuckin’ fool. Thought you could just use me for your own survival, huh? Well, baby, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.”

“What—what are you talking about?! What did you do to me?! Where are my clothes?!”

He crouched down as his cruel gaze met your frightened one. His hand grasped your chin harshly as he yanked your face against the bars that encaged you. “I put you in your fucking place. Did you really think I wouldn’t catch onto your little game? You think you’re so fuckin’ smart, huh? You thought you had me all figured out. That’s where you’re wrong, baby. Oh so wrong. You’re the fuckin’ fool.”

“Please, I’m sorry! I wasn’t—you’ve got it all wrong! I swear!” You pleaded desperately as he dug the blunt end of his fingernails into your chin.

“Oh, my dear sweet, naive creature, you walked right into the wolves fuckin’ den without even realizing it. You’re the fool for trusting me, and now you’re gonna pay for it until I decide to put you out of your misery. Save your tears, princess. You’re gonna need them.”

You woke up in a thick pool of sweat. The sheets clung to your skin like glue, and it felt like you were trapped. Joel’s bedroom sickly transformed into steel bars. Cold, and biting at your raw skin. You blinked, hoping this was all a hallucination. Your mind just playing a twisted trick on your fragile state. You called for Joel. You called for anyone who could possibly hear your pleas. The more you struggled, the more the bars seemed to close in on you. Suffocating. Stripping your lungs of all oxygen as your hands clawed at your throat.

Where was Joel?

You squeezed your eyes shut tight to the point where it felt painful. Seconds ticked before you finally threw the covers from your body with a strangled gasp. Your eyes shot open as you surveyed your surroundings. The steel bars were gone. The tattoo—

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

You chanted these three phrases under your breath like a woman gone mad. Your skin was clammy to the touch as you stumbled away from the bed.

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

Write this down.

Write this down.

Your eyes frantically locked in on the note that was left along the nightstand. You snatched it up in a fury. Your vision darted across every word on the page as if it held some hidden clue between the lines.

You continued to recite the three phrases as you tucked the note into the pocket of the flannel pajama bottoms you were wearing. Your ears picked up on the familiar sound of the front door being unlocked. Your feet seemed to carry you faster than your brain could process as you stumbled out of Joel’s bedroom.

Tattoo

Wolf head

Beady red eyes

“Joel!” You yelled urgently from the top of the stairs

“Beanie!” He answered back with the same level of urgency. He met you at the halfway point of the staircase before you collapsed into his arms.

“Beanie?! What’s wrong? Darlin’ what’s happened?” His arms remained anchored around your waist as you grasped his forearms tightly, he surely would have indents in his skin from your death grip.

“Tattoo. Wolf head. Beady red eyes.” You mumbled with your forehead pressed deeply into his chest.

“Beanie, what are you goin’ on about? What tattoo? Darlin’, this ain’t makin’ any sense at all! Please, tell me what’s going on?!” He tried his hardest not to yell, but after what happened in the stables, he was in fact freaking out.

“He—he has a tattoo! A tattoo on his wrist, Joel!” You spoke in a frantic, excitable tone.

“Beanie, who has a tattoo?” His tone was hushed, and far less frantic than your own.

You knew his name. You heard it in your nightmare. Five letters. You could say it. You could say it right now and it would all be over!

“The man. He—he has a tattoo. Right wrist, Joel! He has a tattoo. A wolf head! Beady red eyes! It’s on his wrist! I know it is—you have to believe me!”

“Beanie, darlin’, I believe you. Is this the man that?—“

it was as if everything came crashing down around you so suddenly. You stilled in his grasp. Your voice ran silent as you slowly lifted your head from his chest. Your eyes were glazed over as if you were dead inside. Perhaps you were. Perhaps your body was shutting down. Were you breathing? Was your heart pumping blood? Everything was sounding so fuzzy. So far away. The cage. The steel bars. No. No. No. please! You—you have it all wrong! I swear!

You couldn’t hear Joel screaming your name. You couldn’t feel his hands around your body. You couldn’t see him. You were reaching out for him and touching nothing but thin air.

“Beanie, what’s happening?! You’re scarin’ me!” He watched in horror as your eyes rolled back into your skull before you went limp in his arms.

“Doc, I don’t fucking understand. What the hell happened to her?! She was muttering under her breath. Something about a tattoo on a man’s wrist! Next thing I know, she’s talking as if I ain’t even there! Like she was reliving somethin?!’ Then her eyes roll back—and I fuckin’ thought she was dead!”

“Joel, I need you to calm down. She had an extremely intense PTSD episode. I’m not even sure if I have the qualifications to explain it. It was a panic attack that led to her body to shut down ...” The doctor spoke in a hushed tone.

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down! Do you have any idea what that was like to witness it?! I didn’t even fucking know how to help her, doc!” Joel was gripping his hair so tightly between his fists, it was shocking that he didn’t accidentally tear any strands out.

“Joel, I’m gonna need you to calm down, or you’re gonna get escorted out. Do I make myself clear? Not to mention, you’re gonna fucking hyperventilate if you keep this shit up! I need you to take some deep breaths and pull yourself together!” Doc sounded exasperated as he struggled to keep his own cool.

“Joel?! Hey, hey! C’mon, let’s go take a breather, okay? Ellie and Dina are in there with her. She’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s go take a walk.” Tommy had shown up at just the right time as Joel was thinking of all the ways he could ring up the doc.

Tommy whispered something in his brother's ear as he wrapped a strong arm around his shoulder before nearly having to drag the older Miller brother down the hall through the doors of the med ward.

“Beanie?” A familiar feminine voice asked softly from your bedside.

Ellie and Dina were seated next to the hospital bed that you currently laid in.

Your lashes fluttered open as you squinted up at the annoying bright buzzing fluorescent lights. Your head turned to the side of the scratchy pillow as your brain began to process who the voice belonged to.

“Ellie? Dina? Where—am I?” You whispered with uncertainty as the two teens slowly looked over at one another before returning their focus back onto you.

“Beanie,” Dina started, “you..had a panic attack.” Ellie murmured.

“What? I don’t remember any of it—who brought me here?”

“Joel did. He came rushing out of the house with you limp in his arms. He was yelling for help and we heard the commotion. Beanie, we thought you were dead.”

“When—did this happen?” You asked just nearly above a whisper as you began to cycle through your memories. Unfortunately, a huge chunk was missing and you could feel the frustration tears begin to brew along your waterline.

“This morning. Right before the breakfast bell.” Dina confirmed. She let go of Ellie’s hand as she reached for the box of tissues for you.

“What time is it now? How long have I been here?”

“An hour after the dinner bell went off. You’ve been unconscious all day, Beanie.” Ellie stood up from the chair and approached your bedside slowly sinking down along the edge of the worn mattress. “Can we get you anything? You must be starving.”

Your body sunk further into the mattress as the weight of Ellie’s words made their mark. It felt like it had only been minutes, when it had in fact been hours. “Some water, and—bread with honey? If the mess hall is still open.” You were feeling quite parched.

“Of course. C’mon, Dee. We might have to bribe Angie to whip something up. We’ll be right back. Okay, Beanie?” Ellie gently patted your covered knee before she stood up from the edge of the bedside and offered her hand to Dina.

“Okay.” You weakly responded.

Shortly after the girls left, the door opened once more. Your mind had already hoped it was Joel, but instead you were met with a different pair of brown eyes; Tommy’s.

“Hey, how are we feelin?’” The younger Miller brother softly asked as he sank down into one of the chairs.

“Where’s Joel, Tommy?”

“He’s outside takin’ a breather. Got pretty mouthy with doc, so I stepped in before things coulda gotten ugly. He’ll be alright though. Jus’ need him to blow off some steam first. He’s a bit too excitable to be in here right now.”

You could faintly taste copper along your tongue as you slowly sat up. The right side of your mouth felt swollen and tender, and when you reached your hand up to touch the outside of your cheek, Tommy gently grabbed your wrist and lowered it back down to your side.

“Y’tore your mouth up pretty good. Doc said it’ll heal on its own, but to try and not chew on the right side. Don’t wanna go and irritate it.”

“Tommy, I don’t remember what happened. None of it.”

“Beanie, it’s okay. It was a panic attack. The Doc believes you to have PTSD. You’re gonna be alright. Joel told me that before you passed out, you were muttering about a tattoo on a man’s wrist? Beanie, I know how adamant my brother is about protecting you, but I am too. So, if there’s anything you remember outside of the tattoo, I need you to tell me, okay?” Tommy was a good person. You knew this since him and Maria saved you all those years ago. He never treated you differently. You could trust him just as much as you could trust Joel.

Five letters. Tattoo. Wolf head. Beady eyes.

Tommy wrote everything down.

Ellie and Dina came back with water, bread with honey plus a bit of chili from the mess hall. When Angie heard the news, she wasted no time to whip something up for you. She was such a giving person.

Doc didn’t have any helpful information to relay back to you. He basically just told you to take it easy, and to let your mouth heal. He had no answers to your questions, psychiatry isn’t his field after all. And this made you feel like you truly were just a nutty coffee woman. Maybe even a lost cause. It wasn’t until deep into the night when your Joel finally made an appearance.

You were half asleep when you heard the sound of one of the chairs scrape across the flooring. The sound nearly had you shooting up from the covers before two strong, yet gentle pair of hands eased you back down.

“Shh. It’s okay, Beanie. It’s just me. It’s just Joel.” He reassured you as he slowly sank down into the chair as he removed his hands from your shoulders and rested them between his knees.

Your eyes zoned in on the gauze wrapped around his bicep as he cleared his throat softly.

“Joel, what happened to you?” You timidly asked.

“S’just a scratch, darlin.’ You were holding onto me pretty dang tight. Broke the skin a little, but I’m okay.”

“Joel, I’m so sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I don’t even remember grabbing onto you like that. Where were we when it happened?”

“Beanie, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt me, Angel. You were havin’ a panic attack in the middle of the staircase. I came home from the stables, and you came rushing down, and we met halfway. It all happened so fast.”

“Joel, I did hurt you. You’re fucking injured because of me. I’m so sorry.”

Look what you’ve done.

He’s really going to think that you're just a nutty coffee woman now.

“Beanie, I need you to believe me when I tell you it’s okay. You didn’t have any control of your actions, and I’d never hold that against you, okay? Y’just, you had me so freaked out. You stopped breathing. I couldn’t find your pulse, and I thought you were dead. Thought you had a heart attack or somethin’. Scared me so bad. I’m just so happy that you’re okay.” He was reaching for your hand now as his fingers loosely interlocked with your own.

“I stopped..breathing? Oh god, Joel. I—I don’t even know what to say. Doc didn’t even have much of an explanation for me. Just told me to take it easy and to be gentle with my mouth.”

“He’s fuckin’ useless. I wish he had the answers for you, Beanie. I really wish he did. But, the good news is that I can take ya home whenever you’d like, okay? We can stop by your place, and then head back to mine.”

“Joel, what are you talking about? Why can’t I go back to my home?” He saw the confused frown appear on your lips as he let out a heavy sigh. His thumb gently stroked the outside of your hand as his eyes met yours.

“Beanie, I know you ain’t gonna agree to this, but I think it’s best that for the time being you stay at my place. I want to make sure that you have the time to recover, and the girls would love to spend some more time with you. It’ll only be for a little while. I promise.”

“Joel, I appreciate your offer, but I just want to go home. Can I please go home?”

“Honey, I know you do, but this will only be for a few days tops. I would never force you to agree to this. I’m just suggestin’ it for your own well-being, okay? Jus’ need ya to trust me to trust you. Y’remember that day, dontcha baby?”

Even your stubbornness had its limits. Despite not initially agreeing, you could tell just from Joel’s eyes alone, that he just wanted to take care of you. Perhaps his initial reasoning was a little selfish, but it undoubtedly felt good knowing that someone in this world cared about you so much, that your well-being was important to them.

“Okay. I trust you, Joel.” You squeezed his hand firmly as he gave you a reassuring nod.

Joel gave you all the time that you needed to gather up your belongings from home. He assured you that this would only be temporary, and he just wanted to make sure that you would heal. You were too exhausted to put up a fight as you zipped your backpack up with a sigh.

You loosely held hands the entire short walk back to his home. You could faintly hear girlish giggles coming from the otherside of the front door as he unlocked it.

“Tommy sent Ellie and Dina over to keep an eye on Honey. We finished buildin’ her pen next to Tex earlier this morning.” He murmured softly as he pushed the handle down and nudged it open with his shoulder.

A smile began to slowly creep over your tired features as Ellie, Dina, and a very playful Honey were seen in your peripheral. Dina was laying between Ellie’s arms on the couch while she was holding the baby bottle at Honey’s level. The young fawn was happily drinking her fill from the bottle, her fluffy white tail wagging happily.

Joel brushed past you with ease before he cleared his throat. “Hey, if you want, y’girls can take Honey up to Ellie’s for the night?”

Ellie briefly made eye contact with Joel before she returned her gaze to the sweet giggles coming from Dina. “Are you sure that’s alright?”

“Positive. S’late , and Beanie oughta be gettin’ some sleep.” Joel replied.

“Alright. We’ll get out of your hair then, Joel. C’mon, Dee, let’s go to bed.” She gave Dina’s shoulder a soft squeeze.

Joel watched silently as the two girls departed from the couch. Dina was protectively holding Honey in her arms now as if she was a small child. The two girls nodded in your direction before they headed upstairs to Ellie’s room.

He didn’t sleep a wink. Last night’s nightmare a long forgotten memory. He wanted to make sure you were okay. So, he stayed up for the rest of the night thinking about you and Ellie.

Two days had passed since your panic attack. Joel would be with you in the early mornings before he’d be whisked off on patrol, and he’d be with you in the evenings. When he wasn’t around during the day, you were graced by both Dina and Ellie’s presence. You weren’t aware of it yet, but both girls cared for you deeply. Girlhood was alive and well in Jackson.

You spent the afternoon in the stables with Ellie and Dina Spending time with the horses and Honey. The young fawn was settling into her new home under the watchful eye of both Tex and Tess.

In the evening, shortly after dinner, you suggested to the girls that it would be fun to have a proper girls night. Face masks, movies, snacks, and of course some crafting. You showed them how to make paint paste from crushing down flower petals and adding a bit of water to turn the powder into a workable paste. A dash of olive oil helped lessen the grainy texture. You promised them that at a later date, you’d show them how to spin the clay wheel, just as you promised Joel.

The record player was crackling softly when the front door squeaked open and closed. Joel hung his rifle along the side of the door before he sunk down onto the bench with a soft grunt. His back hurt ten times more than usual today. He and Tommy patrolled for miles under the sweltering sun. And his frustrations were apparent as he unlaced his boots with a huff, and threw them to the side.

Ellie and Dina were seated at the kitchen table, focused on their paintings as you were making a plate of sandwiches to share. Despite being focused on the task at hand, you faintly heard the sound of the front door opening. You knew Joel was home, finally.

He was scrubbing his hands down his face when he heard your footsteps before you sat down along the wooden bench beside him.

“Hey.” He mumbled tiredly as he dropped his hands to his knees. “What’s goin’ on in there?” He questioned as he turned his body to face you, wincing from the strain it put on his back.

“Girls night. You wanna join? I just made some sandwiches.” You placed your hand gently across his own with a soft smile.

“Kind of you to offer, but I ain’t a girl. I don’t wanna spoil y’alls fun. I will, however, have a sandwich if there’s any to spare for me?” He forced a smile through his pain, clenching his jaw slightly.

“Joel, there’s plenty of sandwiches to go around. I’ll fix you a plate, alright?” You squeezed his hand soothingly.

“Thank you, doll. I’ll probably be out in the shed so y’girls have the house to yourselves.” He added.

“How was patrol?” You asked with genuine concern when you zoned in on the red, blistered patch spreading across the bridge of his nose. “You want some lotion for that? Sun must have been brutal out there.”

He scoffed under his breath as he leaned back against the wall. “It was shit.” He wanted to tell you more, but it was too risky. Too much was currently at stake, and he didn’t want to cause you unnecessary stress. You had been through too much. “Yeah, sun was brutal. Spent a lot of time out in the open plains. Ain’t much cover out there.” He drawled.

“I’m sorry, honey. ” You murmured as you reached your hand up and gently raked your fingers through his hair in a hope to bring him some form of comfort.

“S’okay, darlin.’ How are you doin?’” He asked softly as he leaned into your caress. His mind may have been a warzone, but his words masked it well enough.

“Pretty good. Honey is settling into her new home. I showed Ellie and Dina how to make their own paints from crushed up flower petals. We’re gonna do face masks soon and then watch a movie. Are ya sure you don’t want to join?” You leaned in, letting your fingers slowly drop from his hair, and brush across his weathered cheekbone.

“I’m glad to hear it. Face masks and a movie sound tempting, but I don’t wanna intrude and spoil y’alls fun.” He reassured you as he went in for a kiss. You must have sensed that he needed it as soon as his lips brushed yours, and your lashes fluttered shut. The sweet moment passed as he gently squeezed your knee before he pushed himself up from the bench. You watched as he shuffled down the hall and out of sight.

With a sigh you gathered up his discarded boots and placed them neatly on the doormat next to your own before returning to the kitchen. “Are you girls ready for some sandwiches and face masks?” You asked with a genuine smile as you clasped your hands together.

Both girls nodded and offered to help clean up the table first while you grabbed a plate and placed a couple sandwiches on it before making your way outside to Joel’s shed. You found him sitting in silence with his notebook open on a blank page, sans the title in the top right corner; To Bill and Frank. You set the plate down quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before heading back inside the house.

Dina was in the family room with her own plate while Ellie was still putzing around the kitchen. It appeared as if she had been waiting for you to return based on the way she was nervously ringing her hands together.

“Hey, Beanie?” The teen asked as she eyed her drying painting.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

She took a deep breath before exhaling. “How’s um–how’s Joel doin’ lately?” She asked just above a whisper.

“He’s doing okay. Well, at least I think he is? I think Patrol is weighing on him lately. Y’know, I'm sure he’d love it if you asked him yourself.”

A pained expression crossed Ellie’s face as she brought her arms across her chest in a protective motion, shaking her head tightly at your suggestion. “I can’t do that, Beanie.”

“Ellie, look, I know that you and Joel aren’t on good terms right now, but–”

“What do you know of it?” She questioned.

Your eyes flickered to where Dina was sitting on the couch, and then back to Ellie as your shoulders slumped inwards. “Let's go upstairs for a minute to talk, okay? You can help me grab the skincare stuff.”

Ellie glanced back towards Dina before she nodded in agreement and followed you up the staircase.

“Beanie,” She started timidly, “Did Joel–did he tell you about me?” Ellie was a smart enough kid to know the answer, but she wanted to hear it directly from you.

“He did, a few days ago. The same night that you came home and found us in the kitchen. After you left, he told me about what he did to save you and that you’re distant from him because of it.”

Ellie fought the urge to laugh as she leaned against the bathroom sink with her arms crossed. You could see her fingers begin to tremble. “Yeah? Did he also fail to mention that he fuckin’ killed an entire hospital of Fireflies? And he took the choice of making my life matter away from me?” Her tone was bitter as she gnawed fiercely on her lower lip.

“Ellie, he told me everything, and the reason why he did it.” You reasoned with her as you set the jars of homemade clay masks down on the counter. “Before you jump to conclusions, I understand why you’re upset with him, Ellie.”

She looked surprised as she briefly made eye contact before staring at a chipped patch of paint on the wall. “So, you don’t agree with him then? Is that what you’re telling me? He took my choice away, Beanie. My life could have mattered, and he fuckin’ took that from me.” She whispered grimly as stubborn tears began to trickle down her cheekbones.

“Ellie, your feelings are completely valid. But, your life does matter. You are so important. I know it feels like everything has been ripped from you, but you mean so much to him, Tommy, Dina,myself. I know it’s hard, I know it is, kid. He did what every parent would do for their child, biological or not. He’ll always believe that what he did was right, and that will never change.” You reached your hand up and gently placed it along her shoulder as more tears began to fall.

“I just wish he had given me that choice, Beanie. After everything he and I went through? For what? For my immunity to just be fuckin’ wasted? What if there was a chance? What if this cure–” She clenched her fists tightly as she tucked her chin against her shoulder to try and block out the tears.

“Ellie, the journey that you and Joel took together was not wasted. You survived together. You helped him in more ways than you and I can even begin to imagine. You saved him just as much as he saved you. Ellie, he loves you. He loves you so goddamn much. The world is filled with cruel people. People who take advantage of others weaknesses. People who were born with hate in their hearts, and people who learned to hate. To be cruel. To hurt those around them. Do you know what you’ve done for him, Ellie? You taught that man how to unlearn his hatred for the world. You did that, kiddo.”

Ellie’s sniffles echoed against the faded tiles as she wiped her tears on her sleeve. Her perspective of her purpose in life, and her immunity had been skewed for so many years. Marlene told her she could change the world. She could save everyone. She was manipulated into believing that there could be a cure, and as soon as her assumed purpose was ripped away from her, she felt useless.

“There never was going to be a cure, was there? I was..going to die for nothing?” She questioned somberly as her glassy eyes met your empathy filled ones.

“I don’t have that answer for you, kiddo. I’m sorry. Look, I won’t tell you what you should do, but if you find it in your heart to forgive him, start by talking to him, okay? Whenever you feel ready.” You squeezed her shoulder with a reassuring nod.

“And from there?” She asked in hope that somehow you would have all the answers.

“You both get to live in peace as father and daughter.” You concluded.

Ellie was throwing her arms around your neck in an instant, hugging you tightly as she buried her face into your shoulder, sobbing softly.

You let your own arms drape loosely around the teen’s frame as you hugged. You whispered to her that everything would be alright in the end.

“He’s so lucky to have you, Beanie. You’re one in a million, and I'm happy that he has someone. He’s been through so much.” She murmured against your shirt, using the fabric as the vessel to catch her free falling tears.

“You’re one in a million too, kiddo.” You whispered softly, eyes glistening as you rubbed soothing circles into her back.

Joel was sitting out on the back porch. Seated with his guitar comfortably laying across his lap as he plucked a few strings. After writing the letter to Bill and Frank, he needed to take an emotional break from his current feelings. Music always helped, and music connected him to Sarah and Tommy. He was grateful for the fact that he could enjoy something as simple as playing a few strings on a guitar.

Ellie didn’t approach at first. She was nervous, evidently. After her heartfelt discussion with you, she made the conscious decision to finally take the first step in forgiving Joel for what he had taken from her.

Her boots creaked along the wood as his head slowly lifted. His lips parted, eyes glimmering in pure surprise as he set his guitar down to the side.

“Hey, kiddo.” He murmured in acknowledgement of her presence.

Ellie didn’t respond as she walked towards the railing along the porch and placed her hands against the ledge. Her shoulders were tense and stiff as he approached alongside her, owl mug clasped between his palms as his safety net.

“What’re you drinkin?’” She asked while looking down at faded wood on the railing.

“Coffee.” He responded softly while resting his arms over the ledge. “Shouldn’t y’be in there for girls night?” He brought the rim of the mug up to his lips before taking an inaudible sip.

“I just wanted to come out here for a bit of fresh air.” Ellie mumbled her little white lie.

“Oh, I see. Well, I don’t wanna go disturbin’ your fresh air.” He went to walk away, but Ellie stopped him.

“Joel, that’s not what I meant. Look, I just. Fuck, I’m so stupid.” She whispered under her breath.

“Kiddo, you’re not stupid. I jus–” He was cut off by her words slicing through the balmy air like a sharpened blade.

“I was supposed to die in that hospital, Joel. That was my purpose. And my life would have fuckin’ mattered, but you took that from me. I know you were just doin’ what you believed to be the right thing, Joel. I know you were just tryin’ to save me, but I can’t just let that go. I still lay awake at night thinking about what would have happened if I had died in that hospital. If the doctors extracted the cordyceps from my brain and created a cure, maybe the world would be a different place than it is now. I guess we’ll never know because there is zero chance of ever creating the vaccine.” She fought through fresh tears. In truth, she wanted to yell. To scream and pound her fists into his chest, but she knew this was for the better.

“Ellie, if I was ever given the chance, I’d do it all over again.” His eyes locked on hers. “I know I took that choice from you, but Marlene did as well. Why else do you think we were ambushed? Marlene knew that I wouldn’t let you go through with it had I known that you would have to die. I trusted Marlene , and she wouldn’t even let us say goodbye. To talk to you one last time. I asked and she took you to surgery while I was out cold.. I know it was selfish of me. I know it was, but losing the world felt unbearable and I had to save it.” He was visibly showing discomfort by the way his fingers flexed and trembled against the outside of the mug. His words fell heavy as he awaited Ellie’s response.

“Joel, you didn’t save the world. You took the last shred of hope that humanity had and fuckin’ crushed it! I could have made a difference! I could have saved the world, Joel!” Her voice cracked as her words were lodged in her throat from the oncoming wave of tears.

“I did save the world. I saved my world, Ellie. I lost a daughter once, and I wasn’t about to lose another. Not when you and I endured so much together. You may not be my flesh and blood, but you’re my daughter, and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” His own tears began to prick the corner of his eyes at his confession. His heart clenched and twisted like a fist. “I couldn’t lose you. You mean too much to me, Ellie.” He croaked.

“I don’t know if I'll ever be able to forgive you, Joel. But I would like to try.” There it was. That sliver of hope that you told Joel to hold onto, and Ellie the same. The extension of an olive branch. A father and daughter making up.

A stray tear rolled down his cheek and clinked softly against the rim of his mug. His lower lip wobbled as he sniffled softly.

“I’d like that.”

Ellie released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding as her body relaxed. She gradually found herself gravitating towards him as their shoulders brushed gently.

A moment’s silence passed before Joel spoke again. “Ellie, I need to tell ya somethin’ that only uncle Tommy and I know about, okay?”

“What is it that you need to tell me, Joel?” Her cheek slowly came to rest between the dip in his shoulder as his posture relaxed.

“Tommy and I have been gatherin’ up evidence and writing up reports to turn in to Maria. We’re under the suspicion that Lucas, one of the guys on patrol, has ulterior motives inside the community. I need you and Dina to stay sharp, okay? You see anythin’ suspicious, you alert Tommy and I immediately, okay, baby girl?”

“How long have you been suspecting him, Joel?”

“Since that night at the Tipsy Bison. When I confronted Seth for calling you and Dina a homophobic slur. The same night that Lucas ‘innocently’ grabbed Beanie’s arm outside the ladies room.“ He confirmed.

“Y’don’t think he has anythin’ to do with those charred bodies that you and Tommy found in the woods last winter, do you?” Ellie asked with uncertainty.

Joel sighed deeply as he tightened his grip around the mug. His deep brown pools met hers in a stern, serious look. “I think he has everythin’ to do with those poor women that we found in the woods.”

______________

*Ambiguous POV*

Raider camp. Approximately five miles south of Jackson

“And what if she’s not in her home, what do we do then?” The man asked.

“She’ll be there. I’m sure of it. And in the case she’s not? Don’t you fuckin’ bother showin’ up empty handed. Haven’t you been lookin’ for the opportunity to prove yourself to me? Well, here’s your chance. Don’t disappoint me.” The other man warned his counterpart with a deadly look as he twirled his favorite blade in his hand.

The peaceful utopian community of Jackson would never see this coming.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

[your-mom-friend]

My personal mechanisms headcannon is that in Alice, the general and the majors were all very much, painfully aware of the war and the nonsensical nature of it and are doing their best to drive everyone in a different direction.

Any solider that goes to the major with the same claims as Alice, or talking about how long are we going to keep fighting, who are we even fighting, etc is directed towards the majors

The majors who use their “tea” to keep a perpetual ceasefire where they’ll fight tomorrow, but tomorrow never comes

And they hope, just hope, that the war eventually ends without further bloodshed or that at the very least, the soldiers under their command will remain eternally unaware, maybe die of old age before ever having to step back out onto the battlefield again.

They know there’s nothing to this was except senseless violence, they know there’s no way to convince the queen or her court to end the war. The general cannot do so without being accused of treason. So instead they watch for the soldiers that come to their senses, hoping to find a way out, which the general offers, and is gladly taken. “Eat me and drink me are orders so sweetly obeyed” maybe whatever they give them is to keep them out of their heads for whatever horrors they have to fight through to get to Hatter and Hare’s little haven.

“This world is a wonderland once you can understand death” I choose to believe this is about the general hoping all the mindless soldiers die out while they manage to preserve and protect the soldiers who finally came out of it.

And of course, Hatter and Hare do their parts, making sure everyone stays in this eternal ceasefire, never leaving, never tempted to go back, just enjoying their lives until the war dies or they do. They can’t outwardly say they refuse to fight, so they just hide it in pretty language. “Our entrenchment entrenched till more orders emerge, while wars borders diverge here we stay! / With war plans in pieces- and peace talks disbarred! We’re on the brink, just not tonight” like yeah we’re going to fight of course, we just don’t know when :( or where :( how sad. Oh well. Until we have clear orders ig. Except of course, there’s never going to be clear orders.

Just three people doing their best to protect what’s left of the future

[reasonsforhope]

Heads up/warning that I'm going to start posting articles related to the Israel-Palestine War

I've worked really, really hard to keep my blog about positive news only, and that's going to continue - these posts will be only about good news related to the war.

Of which there really, really isn't much, so I don't know that there will be a lot of posts, but I will be posting articles about humanitarian aid reaching those who need it and actions that will prevent more lives from being taken.

I know that, no matter my position on the war, this is something that would be very controversial and make a lot of people upset, so I wanted to be explicit about my position on this - and my posting policy, which is not the same thing. I also wanted to give people a heads up because I know the war in general is really, really triggering for a lot of people right now, for a lot of different reasons. I'll be tagging all relevant posts, so if screening those out is something that you need to do, you can.

I have worked very hard to make this blog a space with only good news because I know how much it can matter to have just one place, if nowhere else, that you can count on to not give you emotional whiplash with horrible news. To know you have one place you can go where you are guaranteed not to see bad news that will send you into a tailspin. That's why I've had a policy of not including signal boosts or PSAs about tragedies, no matter what they are, on this blog. (I do post about some of that stuff, including the Israel-Palestine War, on my main blog, though. I consider this blog to be me trying to run a public service, basically, and so have specific policies for myself around that, including my editorial and fact-checking standards.)

I'm going to be honest, I was really, really hoping the war would end after a couple of weeks, which has historically not been uncommon for wars with/involving Israel.

But that's clearly not happening, and I can't keep not acknowledging what's happening on here, so, this post.

With that, I imagine people probably want to know my actual stance on the war, since that's what I'll be posting in accordance with.

So, here's the official stance of this blog:

Every time a civilian is killed, it is a tragedy; Every time a child is killed, it is a tragedy, no matter their nationality. I condemn all antisemitism and all Islamophobia.

I support all calls for a ceasefire, as well as demands that Israel immediately stop its repeated bombing of hospitals, ambulances, shelters (including UN shelters), and refugee camps.

There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of hospitals is justified.

There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of shelters or refugee camps is justified.

There is no situation in which the repeated and/or intentional bombing of ambulances is justified.

There is no situation in which the killing of children is justified. Yet more children have now been killed in Gaza than in all global conflict zones combined in each year since 2019.

There is no situation in which cutting off an entire country and/or territory's supply of food and water is justified.

Yes, this applies to every group involved in the war, including countries supplying either side, and any countries or non-state organizations who may yet join the fighting.

The initial Hamas attack on Israel was a tragedy. The continued Israeli bombardment and invasion of Palestine is also a tragedy.

Most of the things I post will be about aid reaching Palestinians or news about tangible, confirmed progress toward a ceasefire. I probably will not be posting good news posts about aid reaching Israel, unless it's explicitly and only humanitarian and/or barring drastic unforeseen changes in circumstance. This is because as of yesterday, November 7, the Palestinian death toll is over 10,000 to Israel's roughly 1,400 (only about 200 of whom have been killed in the past month, starting on October 8, aka outside of the initial attack by Hamas). At least 3,195 children have died in Gaza, 33 in the West Bank, and 29 in Israel.

The Palestinian death toll is nearly 8 times the Israeli death toll. The number of children killed is 110 times higher in Palestine than Israel. (Source for death toll here, ratios via calculator.) Every single one of those deaths is a tragedy - and there have been far, far too many tragedies this past month.

(On a related note, Israel stands very, very little chance of actually eliminating Hamas with this war. The US has attempted this same strategy and failed many times: the US failed to eliminate the communist/North Korean regime in the Korean War, which is technically still ongoing 70 years later; failed to eliminate the Viet Cong in the Vietnam War; failed to eliminate numerous groups of Iraqi insurgents in the Iraq War, which triggered Iraq's civil war; and failed to eliminate the Taliban in the Afghanistan War, even though that war lasted for literally 20 years. Afghanistan is once again under total Taliban control.)

The last thing we need is another 20 year war. The last thing we need is more civilian deaths. Bombing civilian settlements, as well as hospitals, shelters, and refugee camps are war crimes under international law, meaning that both Israel and Hamas have committed war crimes.

It's time for the war crimes to stop.

Humanitarian aid reaching civilians is good news, and I will be posting accordingly.

Ceasefire now.

[lihyot-am-chofshi-beartzeinu]

This was sent to my main but I didn't want this putrid shit on my aesthetic blog. @trudgemank99, I'm going to try to explain this as best I can without insulting you.

Zionism is not a fascist ideology, and it is not responsible for an "ongoing genocide".

You don't even know what Zionism is. Seriously, you and others like you straight up don't even know what it means. You don't know its history, you don't know its cultural and religious significance, you don't know its politics, you don't know how it has saved so many Jewish peoples' lives over the 20th century. How dare you apply your own made-up interpretation of it to give you an excuse to go around harassing Jewish people on the internet?

You know how I see you? I see you as a Nazi. Because you have replaced "Jew" with "Zionist" in your vocabulary, so that you can get away with the same hatred of Jews that has festered within society for thousands of years.

You claimed in that other thread that you cared about the Palestinians. But you don't, because instead of, oh, I don't know, donating to charities or uplifting Palestinian voices, or even supporting joint Israeli-Palestinian peace movements like Standing Together, Women Wage Peace and A Land For All, you chose to desecrate the images of dead and grieving Palestinians who are victims of the tragedy of the conflict to "prove" it was a genocide (it's not; the ICJ ruled that Israel must take steps to prevent actions that could be considered genocidal. War and civilian death is horrific enough on its own; you gain nothing by misrepresenting what it is.)

You couldn't even name a single person in those pictures when I pressed you. I don't even know if those photos were of the conflict, because you didn't link to any reputable sources or date the images or name the photographer. For all I know they could have been pictures of the devastating war in Syria, which have taken on a second life with people attributing them to Gaza. Either way: how dare you use the dead as props. They were real people with real families and friends left behind to suffer - they are not your "gotcha" gore card to play on the internet.

Despite all of that, I don't hate you. I don't hate anyone. I don't want anyone to die. I want the conflict to end but I am realistic about why it occurred and why there is no ceasefire yet (hint: it's because Hamas keeps refusing ceasefires, because they want to send as many Gazan civilians to their deaths as they can). There is nothing I can say or do on my blog that will work towards an end to the conflict, and nothing I can do or say in my real life that will end the conflict - because I don't have a direct line to Netanyahu's office, and calling my local politicians here in Australia will accomplish fuck all. Because Australia doesn't influence Israel, just as Israel doesn't influence Australia.

So how does ranting incoherently at Jewish people on Tumblr save Palestinians? Go on, answer how screaming at me demanding I call it a genocide helps anyone.

I'm not defending Israel. I don't need to. What I do talk about is fighting Antisemitism and anti-Zionism - because there is no difference between them anymore. You and people like you might keep using the word "anti-Zionist" (something that I consider to be grossly inappropriate and culturally appropriative, actually) but we all know that, deep down, you're just Jew-haters.

If you can't admit to yourself that you are operating on a basis of incoherent hatred for Zionists (aka Jewish people who believe in the existence of a Jewish homeland in our ancestral land of Judea; something, by the way, that is fully compatible with the existence of a Palestinian state) then I'll do it for you: you are a Jew-hater.

Oh, wait! You did admit it:

Thank you for this mask-off moment. Truly.

[isalisewrites]

Ten years.

A dance, an endless terrible dance - fighting against Voldemort again and again; Harry had lost count of the battles. A cruel stalemate.

And he'd grown weary.

"It's true," breathed Voldemort. "It's true."

It'd become a ritual between them, a religious rite of which both were driven by their mad orthodox fervor.

Until Voldemort learned the truth: Harry was his horcrux. With a sudden offer of a ceasefire, the decades long war could be over - lives saved and protected - if Harry swore to one agreement: a magically binding marriage contract with Voldemort himself.

The Moon Rite.

—

THREE EXCERPT:

Marriage.

To Voldemort.

That was what was on the table tonight. A union of marriage to Voldemort, of all people.

It would end it all—end the battles, end the tears, end the suffering, end the countless nights waiting up for someone in the Order to return, of waiting for Severus to return home safely from the Death Eater meetings. It would end the deaths, the fears, the destruction.

Peace.

After decades of war, it would all be over.

Just like that.

But… what about Harry? He’d save everyone but himself. He’d give up the potential of being in love with another person, give up a family of his own. He couldn’t imagine bringing a child into a marriage with Voldemort. He’d lose any and all hopes and dreams he’d secretly held deep in his heart.

Harry would be the sacrificial lamb.

They won’t like this, not at all. Severus and Sirius would tell me no, don’t do this, but Dumbledore would have been be thrilled, I bet.

Severus and Sirius had fought for him, had advocated for him when, in Harry’s sixth year, Dumbledore had dared suggest that Harry had to die by Voldemort’s hand to destroy the horcrux in his scar. The memory was still one of Harry’s most memorable because of how much he’d felt loved by the two men who had become a family to him.

“Dumbledore!” Sirius had shouted, wildly brandishing his magical prosthetic, his right arm, which transformed into a large rusty spoon. “Don’t think I won’t shove this so far up your arse, your brain’ll pop!”

“The boy isn’t walking to his death,” Severus had said, his low tone more brutal than Sirius’ explosiveness. “And I’m disappointed in you, Albus, that you believed it was even an option.”

He would’ve done it if it hadn’t for them.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Even now, it wasn’t a question. The moment Voldemort gave the offer of marriage in exchange for the endless war’s end, Harry knew his answer—faster than the pulse of a heartbeat.

The answer was yes.

A calm settled over Harry.

Along the link in the back of his mind, a kindling of curiosity echoed from Voldemort. Harry hid his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. They were wet.

I’m sorry, Sev, Siri… I’m so sorry. But I have to do this. Just… please… Don’t hate me for it. This is the only way to save everyone, including the two of you.