#you know. how foils work. you understand.

[mrs-stans]

A Different Man dives into an absurdist exploration of identity

Sebastian Stan and Adam Pearson are unforgettable as friends and rivals in a beautifully bizarre take on what it means to be human.

By: Sarah Gorr

A Different Man dives into an absurdist exploration of identity

A Different Man is all about what it means to be seen, in all the best and worst ways. It’s what it means to avoid eye contact with the unhoused man on the subway and to gawk at anyone who looks remotely outside the norm. It’s the difference between simply being noticed and being intimately seen, the way only someone who actually understands you can.

Writer and director Aaron Schimberg looks for as many ways as possible to play with these ideas, fitting the seer and seen inside each other in a little matryoshka doll. But first and foremost, our gaze is on Edward.

Adam Pearson isn’t internationally known, but he’s known to rock a microphone. (Matt Infante/A24)

Edward (Sebastian Stan) is a struggling actor with a rare condition that covers his face with large, benign tumors. He’s quiet and reserved. His every movement reveals a discomfort even existing in the world, never mind taking part in it. So when he gets the chance to take an experimental new drug that can completely heal him, he does so without a thought. Reborn as his new, more handsome self, he finally gets what should be the part of a lifetime in a local play based on his life. That is until Oswald, a man with the same condition as Edward, steals the part. In the process, this new arrival reveals just how exactly Edward has actually transformed.

Sebastian Stan captures all the nuance and complexity of Edward as he stumbles through this journey in a manner that’s nothing short of impressive. Hidden behind Mike Marino’s brilliant prosthetics, Stab carries the weight of his performance in body language. The slump of his shoulders, the way his eyes apologetically flit to those around him as if apologizing for even existing. Post-procedure, Stan infuses the performance with Edward’s confusion, frustration, and even unbridled rage. Schimberg’s script is an actor’s dream, and Stan more than lives up to the part.

Renate Reinsve isn’t buying what Sebastian Stan is selling vis a vis a plaid couch. (Matt Infante/A24)

Meanwhile, Adam Pearson’s performance as Edward’s foil, Oswald, was clearly crafted with the actor in mind. It’s an incredible showcase for Pearson’s exuberance and energy. He steal every scene he’s in and gives Edward’s jealousy the perfect excuse to boil over. He embodies everything Edward is not: charming, confident, witty. Pearson’s Oswald is a man you not only want to know but are downright grateful to have in your life.

Together, Pearson and Stan depict a dynamic that is mesmerizing to watch. Does any of Schimberg’s script work half as well without them? Honestly, it’s impossible to imagine.

However, audiences shouldn’t take that as a slight against Schimberg. His script is an intensely rich text, less Beauty and the Beast, more The Scorpion and the Turtle. A Different Man questions not just what’s in a person’s nature but what benefits or inhibits the performance of identity. In art, what makes something feel real or true? What truths benefit a piece? Which hinder? What facets of ourselves we take as inherent truths are anything but?

Sebastian Stan is giving what if autumn was fashion.(Matt Infante/A24)

It’s a film in a constant push/pull with transformation vs. consistency. Permeating it all is a sense of bleakness that seems to radiate from Edward himself. It infects everything from Umberto Smerilli’s bold and moody score to the film’s very texture, with its high contrast, sharp shadows, and rich color. It all comes together as if to say Edward’s insecurities, anxieties, and sadness that can’t seem to disappear as quickly as his features transformed.

Schimberg’s depiction of Edward’s journey to something like a discovery of self is part tragic, fully comic, and delightfully absurd. It’s a distinct film, despite the comparisons to Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance that people are already forming, and more than worth the price of admission.

A Different Man gives face in limited theatres starting September 20 before opening wide on October 4.

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[imsosleepyofyourbull]

I firmly believe that Kabru is autistic but masks so hard that he’s convinced himself and (almost) everyone around him that he’s neurotypical.

That man’s special interest is people and how they work, but he just thinks it’s him Being So Good At Socializing — like he doesn’t spend 95% of his time people watching and adjusting his personality in response to the traits he witnesses and obsessing over the intricacies of human interaction while mapping an ever growing relationship chart in his head. For fun. He even admits it in the manga!

Like, look at him!!!

It’s such a shame that — because he’s the narrative foil to Laios and his interest is generally considered more “socially acceptable” in both their world and our own — more people don’t realize this about him. He’s constantly misinterpreted as a horribly manipulative person who only acts the way he does to use the people around him, when that’s explicitly shown to not be the case at all. Kabru is naturally empathetic and is almost always thinking about other people, regardless of whether or not they’re right there with him or a thousand miles away.

I mean, his most defining motivation is his desire to do everything he can to avoid another tragedy like the one at Utaya. Someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t have a goal like that, and they most certainly wouldn’t go about it the way he does. He’s constantly working to help people who can help everyone else and tries so hard to make sure that anyone who seems like a threat is actually someone he needs to worry about before doing anything about it. His supposed aversion to Laios is only because of the ridiculous trolley problem he’s set up in his own head.

Outside of that, he (rather justifiably) hates monsters but is desperate to understand Laios’ love for them and his apparently most selfish goal in getting close to the guy was literally just to become friends with him.

When he’s interacting with the canaries and they imply that they’re going to take him and all of his friends to the West, his first thought is of Rin and how much she’d hate to be stuck in the place that gave her so many bad memories.

He helps Kuro learn Common when Mickbell is asleep and firmly looks forward to the day that the half-foot and Kuro can communicate properly so that their relationship can get properly started without any miscommunication.

And he understands Mithrun with only a handful of weeks AT BEST interacting with him, getting enraged when the elf seems to give up and immediately trying to help him find a new motivation for life.

I’m excited just thinking about the day that Kabru starts unmasking more and more around his friends — both new and old — because if being with my current friend group has taught me anything, it’s that hanging out with anyone so unabashedly themselves is bound to make you more comfortable with yourself too. It’s part of the reason why I like Labru so much! There’s something nice about imagining them hanging out in the throne room or laying in the grass outside and talking for hours on end about their special interests. They might not strictly understand what the other finds so fascinating about monsters or people, but they can grasp that shared feeling of love.

They probably influence each other in really good ways too, with Kabru helping Laios figure out what people are thinking even when it doesn’t make sense or Laios helping Kabru understand that not everyone and everything needs to be analyzed a thousand times over. They both get to learn that there are people like them and people who will love them without them ever having to change a thing about themselves. They deserve to know that they’re fine the way they are.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Regarding the post about Marinette being punished for trusting people and the response to it, this is something I always have trouble explaining because it sounds callous? But fictional characters aren't people. It's not that their lives just so happen to get in the way leading to something bad happened the writers decided that should happen, and it's important that you stop and ask WHY this happens. If the camera is "on" per se, people assume it's relevant and will tie into something larger. So like if the camera is on and all we see is Alya revealing her identity and then the result is she's outed in the same way she was in Heroes Day, the audience naturally concludes it's connected and thus realizes the lesson is either "Alya learns she shouldn't share her identity" OR "Marinette learns she shouldn't trust people" or both.

Secret identities are a great example of this phenomenon. We're NOT shown every time a villain's plan is foiled because they didn't know the heroe's identity, we ARE shown every time a heroe's identity causes friction in their lives. As such, large parts of the audience think of secret identites as inconveniences because that's what's shown (not just in Miraculous Ladybug, in tons of other shows)

Like you are supposed to make connections in Television about what's being shown to you that no one would make in real life (or at the very least no one SHOULD make in real life) because there's a limited space to tell the story and the audience is assuming the writers aren't wasting our time.

If these were real people it would be unreasonable to say because people have their own lives Marinette can't trust them, but in a story where Marinette is the main character who is explicitly always supposed that's. An accurate way to read the story!

And I also understand that this is a very boring construction if you're making headcanons or thinking about these characters! But that's a different lens, it doesn't make the broader writing lens invalid. You're speaking different languages at that point.

Anyway I hope that helps someone, that's my two cents

You summed it up perfectly! There's a ton of valid criticism to be had of Miraculous, but you can tell from the narrative framing that almost all of it comes down to writing choices and not things that are supposed to be seen as in-universe issues even though a lot of fans treat them as such. It's really weird to see things like people complaining about everything revolving around Marinette as if it's a personal flaw of hers and not the result of her being the main character in a fictional world. "Main Character Syndrome" literally pulls its name from the fact that this is how main characters work in a lot of media. It's a flaw when a real person does it, but in terms of story telling, it's extremely normal - and often good story telling - to have everything revolve around your main character or a core cast.

The issue with Miraculous is that they chose a lot of poor conflicts if they wanted Marinette to be the one and only main character, but that's not her fault. She didn't decide to have the rules around identities make no sense. The writers did. She didn't decide to make the main villain Adrien's dad while also keeping Adrien from being involved in the story. The writers did. The list goes on and on and, because none of it reflects badly on Marinette in the writers' eyes, the show doesn't act like Marinette is in the wrong. Remember, these are the same writers who think that Derision was a great episode that added depth to Marinette instead of destroying her character and making her look unhinged. Their judgement is clearly a little skewed.

While the writers love to make bad plot choices, they are generally using proper story telling language to make those choices, which is why I can tell you how characters' actions are intended to be read. The Rena Furtive and Nino example is a great one because it allows me to show that the writers do understand how to set things up. In fact, once they've decided that they're going to do a thing, they pretty much always set it up at a basic level. It's rarely spectacular and often frustrating, but it's never shocking.

In Rocketear, Alya promises Marinette that Nino will never learn about Rena Furtive. The episode then ends with her breaking that promise via the following exchange:

Alya: (sighs) I'm still Rena Rouge. (Nino gasps.) But now I'm in hiding and that's why Ladybug asked me not to tell anyone. Nino: But why are you telling me if no one's supposed to know? Is Ladybug cool with this? Alya: I can't hide it from you, because I love you, Nino, and we share everything.

Look at how this confession is presented. Look at what the dialogue focuses on. When Marinette confessed her identity to Alya, it was all about the confession and supporting Marinette. There was no discussion of this being a problem for Chat Noir or anything like that because - in the writers' eyes - that wasn't a problem for some reason. This is why Chat Noir almost instantly absolves Ladybug of blame once he finds out about the identity reveal (see: Hack-San.) The writers didn't want it to be an issue so it wasn't:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right

But when Alya confesses her identity to Nino, the conversation is not just about her confession. It's about her confession and how she's not supposed to do this. That's why Nino's response is not loving support. Instead, he asks if this is a good idea and if Ladybug knows.

These things are getting focused on because the writers are telling you that this is a bad thing. It's supposed to feel ominous. When I first watched Rocketear, I assumed that the season was going to end with Gabriel getting the fox off of Alya due to Nino because that was an obvious way to raise the stakes and they'd just heavily implied that Nino knowing would be a bad thing. I was, unfortunately, right. The only on screen consequence of Nino knowing is that he outs Alya to everyone in an incredibly forced series of events (see: Strikeback):

(Ryuko successfully prevents the Roue de Paris from hitting them, yet, it flies to the direction where Rena Furtive is. This causes Carapace to panic.) Carapace: Rena! (takes out his shield) Shell-ter! (Carapace's superpower successfully prevents the Ferris wheel from hitting Rena Furtive on top of the Tour Montparnasse. But the information of Rena Furtive's active status shocks the heroes, as well as Shadow Moth.) The heroes: Rena?! Shadow Moth: (from the top of the Eiffel Tower) She's still active?

Of course the Ferris Wheel goes straight for Alya's hiding spot and of course Nino screams her name before casting his power and of course the villain overhears it. It's all so forced and unnatural, which should make it glaringly obvious how much the writers wanted this to happen. This wasn't something they were kind of forced to do because it made sense for the narrative and they wanted to tell a good story. Instead, they wrote an awkward series of events because they really, really, really wanted Nino knowing to be a bad thing that outs Alya so that Marinette loses all of the miraculous even though none of this makes much sense.

How the hell did Gabriel hear Nino's shout from so far away? Is he able to overhear everything the heroes are saying? How does Nino even know that Alya is hiding there? And since when was a Ferris Wheel a threat to these guys? Your girlfriend is a magical girl and she's in her magical girl form, dude. You could drop a building on her and she'd be fine, a thing you have to know because this scene literally goes on to have Chat Noir go flying into a building, hitting it so hard the cement literally cracks, and no one really cares. I guess it's fine if Adrien is a punching bag, but Alya must be protected at all costs...

Anyway, while the above series of events was annoying, none of it was surprising. In fact, it would have all be perfectly predictable even if Alya outing herself was that treated as a more neutral event. Her choice leading to bad things falls perfectly in line with a truly bizarre running theme in the show: outing your identity to the person you love romantically is a bad thing that leads to bad consequences. That's why Chat Blanc and Ephemeral ended the world and why Nino knowing cost Ladybug the fox and why the character they call Joan of Arc has to give up her miraculous to be with her love and why the Kwami's have this absolutely asinine dialogue in Kwamis' Choice:

Plagg: Sugarcube! Having to force them to choose between love and their mission is just awful! Maybe Master Fu was wrong to choose them. Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength. Plagg: But the impossible part of that love is destroying them, and I know a thing or two about destruction. Tikki: (sighs heavily) What can we do? Plagg: We must free them of that impossible choice. We must… free them of us.

This is the voice of the author telling you that outing the identities is not and never will be a good choice for the love square. Never mind that Alya is allowed to know Marinette's identity or that Gabriel finding out is what actually ended the world in the alternate timelines or that Felix outted himself in public but is still wielding or that freaking Gabriel was allowed to know half of the temp heroes' identities while they were still actively wielding. For some reason, those things don't matter to the narrative, probably because romantic love wasn't involved. The "identity reveals are a bad thing" rule only seems to apply when romantic love is a key element to the point where it's a reoccurring theme in this supposed power of love show.

[erose-this-name]

Kabru is such a brilliantly written character, one of the best in Dungeon Meshi (which is a high bar as it is, most of the main cast are similarly genius). 

His thing is that he is very friendly and nice confident and maxed out his charisma stat, but is also kinda ambitious and manipulative. But not in an overtly malicious way. Which kinda scares me.

The most impressive thing about him, writing wise, is that it’s all show-don’t-tell. He very frequently uses his charm and empathy and understanding of how people think in really clever ways.

We’re often walked through his thought process of how he does these social deductions. We’re never told he’s scarily charismatic, besides other characters reacting to him being scarily charismatic.

Kabru is a natural-born leader and social engineer with superlative skills in both, which makes him the perfect foil for Laios, who’s too autistic and unambitious that he’s not even the de facto leader of his own party that he’s the official leader of. He’s so bad at leadership that his party just, sort of, doesn’t have a leader. They just kinda argue and do stuff.

What’s also neat, and perfectly inline with Meshi’s general theme of clever and logical subversions of fantasy tropes, is that Kabru’s character design in no way clues us in on this fundamental character trait of his.

He’s sort of a human fighter / knight archetype, which in the language of fantasy RPGs is a class most would associate with being a white bread jock, chivalrousness optional.

(Laios subverts the same trope in the same way. It’s really funny that the walking exposition dump of the group looks like the character creator default preset spec’d as the most generic class available.)

If Kabru was a bard or noble and Laios a wizard, their character traits would be far less interesting

Even better is that we would expect someone who looks like Laios to have Kabru’s personality, and vice versa. Their character designs are flipped; the confident super charismatic leader is a short wide-eyed twink, while the slightly naive and very autistic monster enthusiast is a tall conventionally attractive Aryan lookin’ mf.

(see what I mean by Kabru being such a good foil for Laios?? No wonder everyone ships them, they’re perfect for each other!)

Yet, their designs also work for them. Kabru just has a face that’s easy to talk to, his piercing blue eyes and curly hair gives him a false sense of naïveté, while his iconic 👁️👁️ expression hints that there’s actually quite a bit going on inside his head. Meanwhile, Laios believably looks like someone who doesn’t know what hair conditioner is. His armor’s collar gorget thing is also pretty dorky.

You can’t trust people like that (I mean overly charismatic people with a manipulative streak, not blue-eyed twinks) because you can’t know what their real motives are. You can’t know they aren’t pretending, you can’t know they aren’t trying to or haven’t already manipulated you. How could you? When he has so much more social intelligence than you do, average socially awkward Tumblr user? He’s touched all the grass!

In episode 16 (spoilers, btw) Kabru finally meets Laios’s party, who he’s been trying to find and fight for the better part of the season, and he just decides that no confrontation is necessary. Like, immediately upon meeting the guy. Just from how Laios looked at him. He figures that since Laios didn’t seem to recognize him, they either have never met meaning he has the wrong guy, or Laios forgot meaning he didn’t think it’d be a big deal, meaning the treasure was a trap or something. Which is pretty in line with Kabru’s established ability to always roll nat 20s for every charisma and deductive reasoning check, so cool.

But he doesn’t even seem curious about which of those cases is true. (He might be interested to find out some of the treasure wasn’t dangerous, but accidentally got thrown off a bridge). Much to Rin’s dismay, he’d rather just not bring it up because that could upset the leader of the party he might be working with for the foreseeable future.

Actions speak louder than words. So, all we really learn in this scene is that Kabru’s goals and M.O. can change on a dime, and that he values reputation and political capital more than money and vengeance. More than his own party’s desire for those things. Not only is he someone with a silver tongue, but he knows its value and is determined to use it at every opportunity.

Kabru and his party might not be very good at fighting or surviving in the dungeon, in fact their frequent TPKs are a running gag. But, he also doesn’t need to be when he can just manipulate Laios’ and Shuro’s much more proficient parties into helping him.

So far, Kabru seems like the most likely one to become king of the dungeon or whatever the mcguffin is. He is the only protagonist so far who has said that’s an actual goal of his. He’s said that he doesn’t think someone like Laios who isn’t a born leader should get it.

In fact, Kabru seems to have very strong opinions on what kinds of people should be allowed to adventure in the dungeon, evidenced by the fact that he murdered an entire party over it, justified or not. Kabru seems to think that Kabru is such a leader, and he’s probably right about that, but what kind of leader? 

What would Kabru do with that kind of power if he gets it? Because I’m not sure. All I know is that he is the kind of person with the ability to use real political power to its full potential. For good, or for very, very bad.

I’m not saying that Kabru is evil or that he’s secretly gonna be the surprise villain. I dunno, I haven’t read the manga. He could just be a nice guy that’s just, like, is like that. Everything he’s done could be justified by the explanations he’s given. He actually reminds me a lot of one of my IRL friends, and I’d trust him with my life.

But, I can’t help but feel a distinct sense of unease whenever he’s on-screen. I try not to trust confident natural-born leaders like him right out of the gate. I don’t like that our instinct as humans is to blindly follow them without thinking about it.

Tyrants and psychopaths also use confidence and charm and a friendly demeanor to make people think they’re a good guy, while manipulating everyone into thinking their self-serving actions are altruistic. Benevolent, confident, skilled leaders do exist. But there exists many more snakes wearing their skin. Wolves rarely bother with sheep’s clothing, they dress as shepherds and sheepdogs.

Anyway, my point is that I think it’s kinda neat that it’s possible to overthink this much about a character whose probably just a nice guy that is the mirror opposite of an autistic person. Writing that kind of ambiguity is hard, and employing it in this way is inspired.

[anneapocalypse]

On Wuk Lamat's Role in the Back Half of Dawntrail

(Note: You do not have to like Wuk Lamat, you do not have to like any character, that is your business; however this post is not an invitation to expound to me on why you hate her, so if you aren't open to discussing her positively, please move along.)

Wuk Lamat is vital to the back half of Dawntrail. Her presence in the story there is both narratively and thematically important and its lack would render her character arc incomplete.

For context, I have seen some comments that there should have been less Wuk Lamat in the back half of Dawntrail. I truly don't see how that would have been possible or made sense without throwing out most of what was set up in the first half, or simply writing an entirely different story. Regardless of whether you personally vibe with her, Wuk Lamat is the main character of Dawntrail; this is her story, and it's themes and narrative beats are inextricably interwoven with her character arc.

First of all, can you imagine what people (in-universe and out) would say about her if after the attack on her people and the appearance of the dome she just... stayed in Tuliyollal with Koana and let other people do all the work? She's the Vow of Resolve. Of course she's going to be at the forefront of the action. The whole point of her choosing Koana to rule with her in a new interpretation of the tradition of blessed siblings is that they have complementary strengths, and they have a benefit that blessed siblings don't: they can be in two places at once!

Second, a big part of Wuk Lamat's journey is learning about the cultures of Tural so that she can fairly preside over them all, and in Alexandria we get to see her bring that lesson to bear in a big way when she learns about the regulators and the processing of souls. She's rattled by it but pushes past that personal reaction to say, as the Dawnservant, "Please teach me of your history and culture so that I can understand the importance of this practice." In doing so she learns critical information about the situation. This is a culture so far removed from the Turali peoples Wuk Lamat knows, and they're also a separate kingdom not technically under her rule at all, but that doesn't actually change her response. She still reaches out with curiosity and compassion, always seeking to learn and understand.

As she comes to understand Alexandria's history, she also learns the context she'll need to understand Sphene when her true motivations are revealed later. Moreover, Sphene is a very clear foil for Wuk Lamat. The Dawnservant characterized by her love for her people and her desire for their peace and happiness vs. the Endless Queen whose love for her people has been twisted into something destructive and terrible.

And then there's the narrative beats about family, and particularly the loss of parents in different ways: Wuk Lamat earning the trust of her brother's abandoned son and taking him in as family, and her being there for Erenville as he struggles to come to terms with the death of a parent (something Wuk Lamat has also experienced very recently).

And that's to say nothing of how personal Zoraal Ja's betrayal is to Wuk Lamat; of course she has confront him personally. It couldn't be anyone else (except maybe Koana, and they both seem to agree that it should be her).

The Rite of Succession is not Wuk Lamat's whole character arc; it's only the first half. It's after Wuk Lamat comes into her own as Dawnservant alongside her brother that she truly shines. It is in the back half of the story, when the stakes are dramatically raised, that all the lessons she's learned in her journey will be tested, when the peace she seeks to preserve is so brutally disrupted. We get to see her struggle emotionally with the shock of that in Tuliyollal, then rise to the challenge of leadership. How she responds to all of that is her character. It is the culmination of everything the first half of the story has set up. This is still her story.

And personally, I think it's wonderful to see a female character not only featured so prominently in the story but getting so much character development and such a complete character arc.

[i-made-a-bg3-blog]

Look, it’s not like Astarion intended on becoming a Harper, it’s just - well, burglary and pickpocketing are a little more difficult when you can’t enter homes without an invitation or go outside during the day, and he’s grown rather accustomed to a certain elevated lifestyle. There are other places he could turn to for money: the city owes him an estate and a title at the bare minimum. But, there’s something to be said for self-sufficiency, and, though he hates to admit it, he wouldn’t make it through three weeks as a noble without being bored out of his mind.

The Harpers need warm bodies (or cold ones, as it were) to rebuild their ranks after Orin’s doppelgangers, and Jaheira’s a savvy old crone who never learned to take no for an answer. She pinpoints Astarion’s two weak spots: a heavy coinpurse and kidnapped children, street kids, the kind no one would miss.

They’re decidedly amateurish criminals, and it doesn’t take him long to track them down and dispatch them, messily and painfully. Four children sit huddled in a cage, and Astarion knows he must look every bit the monster as he picks the lock with hands covered in gore, but they don’t shy away in fear when he opens the door. One of them slips his chubby little hand into Astarion’s and refuses to let go until they reach the safehouse. It’s…odd.

“Good work, Harper,” Jaheira tells him after, and Astarion makes it explicitly clear that he’s simply an independent contractor, an expensive one. 

Jaheira just smirks like the witch she is.

So he contracts. He infiltrates the Guild (and feels insulted when Nine Fingers doesn’t recognize him; he’d like to think he’s rather unforgettable), foils an assassination plot or three, even teams up with Minsc and a turncoat Thayan to stop a gaggle of Red Wizards from doing…whatever it is they do. It’s a good business, he supposes. A hero’s reputation is a small price to pay for a hero’s coffers.

Jaheira’s wise enough to know when to hang up her blades, and it makes her more of an insufferable busybody than ever, which - somehow - becomes Astarion’s problem. First, it’s his own cell, then suddenly he’s the field contact for four others. He’s dragged to the most dreadfully tedious logistical meetings imaginable. The only reason he agrees to any of it is that Jaheira can turn an offhand comment and a raised eyebrow into the kind of challenge that itches beneath Astarion’s skin. It should be all too familiar and just as unwelcome, that burning need to prove himself, but it’s not. It’s different, perhaps, when he isn’t being set up to fail.

Jaheira passes away peacefully in her sleep at the ripe old age of one hundred and ninety-two, and Astarion’s convinced he can hear her grumbling about that all the way from the Fugue Plane. She would have rather gone out fighting, but, privately, Astarion feels like she deserved something gentler than bleeding out on a battlefield. He never did tell her how much he admired her (though he doubts she would have appreciated such open sentiment: ‘I did not realize I looked so terrible that you’ve already started my eulogy.’), but she must have known. He thinks he’s really going to miss her.

Right up until the moment Rion is handing him a pin and leading him to a library full of dossiers and documents. Then, he’s ready to cross the Astral Sea just so that he can bring her back and kill her again. Independent. Contractor. What part of that did she not understand? 

He goes home and locks the door with the full intention of ignoring every Harper that comes knocking. But Harpers are nosy little shits, and after he nearly disembowels one who surprises him by breaking into his house just to tell him the most idiotic plan to dismantle a smuggling ring he’s ever had the misfortune of hearing, he realizes hiding isn’t going to be an option. Besides, Astarion cannot be privy to such levels of incompetence and sit idly by. 

So he helps. Provisionally. Just long enough to find a decent replacement, and then he can wash his hands of the whole thing.

Unfortunately, it’s not as easy a task as he had hoped. Every potential candidate lacks something: consistency, creativity, confidence, the common sense to understand Astarion’s eminently logical filing system. It takes him three decades to accept that not only is he excellent at the job, but that he enjoys it immensely. 

When they make him take a title, he chooses Spymaster. It suits him - dashing, mysterious, questionably moral, because he’s never been a hero, and it would be foolish to pretend that he is.

They all call him High Harper anyways.

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Fyodor and the Devil: Analysis of Fyodor's motives and role in the narrative

Asagiri has stated that he based Fyodor not on Dostoyevsky the author but on a specific scene from one of his books The Brothers Karamazov where Ivan Karamazov confronts “the devil” in his room.

(It's a really good book, you should read it if you have time. Also. fun fact, Fyodor and the devil wear the same hat, “His soft fluffy white hat was out of keeping with the season.”)

Having read the book and gone over this scene, I realized that this could be used to find out a lot more about Fyodor as a character than we see in the story, including a potential glimpse at his real motivations.

A bit of context for the scene. Ivan Kramazov is a clever but deeply trouble man who has struggling with the concept of God and rationalising him with the cruelty of humanity, at one point while very sick, Ivan starts seeing a man in his room who claims to be “the devil”. Their conversation is a fascinating look at morality and why evil exists in the world, and if you look at it closely it reveals a lot about the role of a “villain” in a story.

This line from “the devil” is really interesting to me, and seems to explain a lot about Fyodor’s character, as well as align perfectly with how Asagiri has described Fyodor in interviews:

Before time was, by some decree which I could never make out, I

was predestined 'to deny' and yet I am genuinely good-hearted and not at all inclined to negation.

'No, you must go and deny, without denial there's no criticism and what would a journal be without a column of criticism?' 

Without criticism it would be nothing but one 'hosannah.' But nothing but hosannah is not enough for life, the hosannah must be tried in the crucible of doubt and so on, in the same style. But I don't meddle in that, I didn't  create it, I am not answerable for it. Well, they've chosen their scapegoat, they've made me write the column of criticism and so life was made possible.

Basically the devil is saying that he was created because without evil then good means nothing, if everything was perfect then nothing would happen or change, life couldn’t exist, so he was forced to be that evil even though he never wanted to be.

This is so similar to how Fyodor is described in the BSD exposition 2020:

Fyodor is the antagonist, he is the villain of the story, that is the role he plays. This explains why he chooses to commit so many atrocities in the name of  “following God's plan”. It even connects to his line in The Dead Apple, and his ability name. He is both crime and punishment, as “crime” or sin originates with the devil, but it's also the devil who punishes sinners.

(I mean the title of the episode he is introduced in is literally “My Ill Deeds Are the Work of God” by committing evil acts he is fulfilling God's purpose for him.)

And if Fyodor is really based on “the devil” it's very likely he also either does or used to wish for release from this role that was assigned to him, but he knows that he cannot stray from his path or the story will cease to exist. My evidence for Fyodor wanting to be free of his mission is just one interaction, when he kills Karma.

Look at Fyodor's expression here, this is the only time in the entire series where we see him look truly sad. This isn't an act, there is no one there for him to trick, he simply says a quiet prayer for the life of a boy who's only purpose was to suffer and die.

This next part of “the devils” speech actually seems to fit very well for Dazai, it's interesting since he is the narrative foil to Fyodor and clearly is a very similar character.

We understand that comedy; I, for instance, simply ask for annihilation. No, live, I am told, for there'd be nothing without you.

If everything in the universe were sensible, nothing would happen. There would be no events without you, and there must be events. So against the grain I serve to produce events and do what's irrational because I am commanded to.

For all their indisputable intelligence,men take this farce as something serious, and that is their tragedy. They suffer, of course... but then they live, they live a real life, not a fantastic one, for suffering is life. Without suffering what would be the pleasure of it? It would be transformed into an endless church service; it would be holy, but tedious. But what about me? I suffer, but still, I don't live. I am x in an indeterminate equation. I am a sort of phantom in life who has lost all beginning and end, and who has even forgotten his own name. 

This ties perfectly into Dazai and Fyodor’s debate on the nature of God in the sky casino arc.

Dazai here points out that it's not perfection and harmony that make the world move, it's the irrational, it's the foolishness and stupidity of humans who charges into life making a million mistakes but always finding ways to fight on through it. Here Dazai and Fyodor represent the conflicting sides of “the devil” with Fyodor embodying his mission to drive the world and Dazai embodying his secret love for, and wish to join, humanity.

“I love men genuinely, I've been greatly calumniated! Here when I stay withyou from time to time, my life gains a kind of reality and that's what I like most of all. Yousee, like you, I suffer from the fantastic and so I love the realism of earth. Here, with you, everything is circumscribed, here all is formulated and geometrical, while we have nothing but indeterminate equations! I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming. Besides, on earth I become superstitious. Please don't laugh, that's just what I like, to become superstitious. I adopt all your habits here: I've grown fond of going to the public baths, would you believe it?

And I go and steam myself with merchants and priests. What I dream of is becoming incarnate once for all and irrevocably in the form of some merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone, and of believing all she believes. My ideal is to go to church and offer a candle in simple-hearted faith, upon my word it is. Then there would be an end to my sufferings.”

“"Why not, if I sometimes put on fleshly form? I put on fleshly form and I take the consequences. Satan sum et nihil humanum a me alienum puto."*

* I am Satan, and deem nothing human alien to me.”

This piece from the devil feels like it could be a description of Dazai’s character, his wish above all else to find happiness and love as a human despite believing he is a demon. Both Dazai and Fyodor have strong ties to the Devil, both of them are often described as demonic or inhuman, with emphasis placed on the darkness of their souls and the isolation they feel due to their minds.

But the difference between them is how they dealt with it, Fyodor chose to embrace it and fully commit to his role in the story as the ultimate evil for the greater good, but Dazai has always shown a fasciation with humans and has spent his life trying to connect to them and find meaning in his existence.

Finally, let's look at what we can learn about Fyodor’s motivation. Fyodor is the villain, he is the final obstacle the protagonist has to overcome, he is the driving force behind so much of Atsushi’s life and the reason so much of the series has played out at all. He sent Shibusawa to torture Atsushi as a child, he was an informant to the guild who put the bounty on Atsushi making the mafia turn on him, he was involved in the guild invasion, and obviously he was the master mind behind cannibalism and Decay of Angles.

If he is aware of his position as the antagonist, then he also is probably aware Atsushi is the protagonist, he knew he was the “envy of all ability users” after all, so he knows Atsushi has some significance to the world as a whole.

Atsushi is also the “guide to the book” which is seemingly Fyodor’s end goal, so even though Fyodor doesn’t seem to be focused on Atsushi, he has been indirectly influencing his whole journey up to this point. This also explains why Fyodor is only moving actively now, because the protagonist has appeared and his role as the villain can finally be fulfilled and he, like “the devil” can finally get the “annihilation” he asked for. Hence, Fyodor’s true goal is to erase himself from the narrative.

There is actually quite a lot of evidence for this. The obvious part is that Fyodor wants to rid the world of ability users while he himself is an ability user, he cannot exist in his perfect world. 

Then there’s the fact that in the Dead Apple, Fyodor calls himself “crime” if Fyodor is “crime” or “sin” then a world free of sin would not contain him at all

Even when Fyodor talks about sin, he says how humans are easily manipulated into killing each other, while he constantly manipulates characters into killing each other, he is the cause of the sin he fights.

A really strong bit of evidence is this interview with Asagiri and Harukawa

Not only does Asagiri reiterate Fyodors role as the person who moves the story, Harukawa specifically mentions that Fyodor might be trying to create a world without ability users because he thought it was a “bad thing to do” aka the action a villain would take that would lead to a hero stopping them.

“Dos-san is the biggest villain in the story so far, but I have continued to draw him with spaced out eyes that are neither righteous nor evil for a long time. The only time I drew his eyes completely white was when he said he would create a world without skill users. It was because, in reality, we would decide what is evil or not by our own scales, but I wasn't sure if he himself was doing it because he thought that was a bad thing to do.”

This also connects to how Fyodor was able to understand Gogol when no one else could, Gogol is chooses to fight against the way the world is to prove to himself that he truly is free. Fyodor, who is bound to play a part in a narrative, would understand that feeling and that longing to be truly free.

To be clear, I don’t think that Fyodor is really a good person whose just been trapped in an awful position against his will, we see many times that Fyodor revels in his cruelty and enjoys killing and torturing others. Its the same with “the devil” in the book, although he hates the job he was given, he tells Ivan stories of the people he’s corrupted and seems very proud of himself for it.

My personal interpretation is that the sadistic zelot personality Fyodor displays is a mixture of a mask and a coping mechanism, kind of similar to Yosano developing a sadistic side to help her deal with the guilt of half killing people in order to heal them. I think it makes sense that after centuries of cruelty and manipulation a person would become detached and stop really caring about the lives he destroys.

This analysis is partially unfinshed but I wanted to post it now and see what other people think of it.

[love-takes-work]

I've seen a fair number of people interpret Rebecca Sugar's (and the Crew's) decision to put Ruby in a dress as subversive, and I want to discuss why that feels like a clear miss to me.

Every time--every single time--I've heard Rebecca Sugar talk about the queer relationships on this show, it comes with this expression of wholesomeness, and often glazed with a sheen of wistfulness, flavored something like "I needed this as a child and young person, and I didn't have it." Much of Rebecca Sugar's work to bring this wedding (and other unapologetic queer relationships) to the screen was framed as an emergency--as in, we HAVE to get this out there for those kids we used to be, because we know they're drowning.

Yes, it's funny sometimes when people make jokes about Sugar deliberately "adding more gay" or "making it gayer" as a big eff-you to the people who spoke against it, but that doesn't sit right from where I'm standing. It took so much strength (and resulted in so much battle damage) to fight that fight, yes. But from everything I can see from the interviews and conversations I've seen and read, this wasn't served up in a "ha-HA, take THAT!" kind of way. These characters having these kinds of relationships should have been a non-issue, and the fact that their very wholesome kids'-show wedding and very sweet kiss and very adorable love for each other was seen as Political when it should have been just two characters in love is so sad to me.

I've seen dozens of people suggest that Ruby is in a dress and Sapphire is in a suit "to fuck with the bigoted censors in other countries" or "to give the finger to gender roles," but again, I think it is simpler and sweeter than that. Rebecca's said that Ruby in a dress is how she feels in a dress. Celebration and exploration of feminine-coded stuff felt wrong to Rebecca for a long time, like it wasn't hers, because she wasn't really a woman and didn't want it forced on her. As a result she was robbed of all the beauty that should have been a non-issue, from what TV shows and toys she was supposed to enjoy as a kid to what kind of person she was supposed to marry and what she should wear as an adult.

Ruby never got a choice about how she looked really. Once she got to choose her presentation for a significant event, this is what she chose. It means so much more to see that than to construct it primarily as a reactionary measure, as if it would somehow foil the sinister censors in more homophobic countries (who, incidentally, are not therefore forced to show Ruby in a dress even though they tried to hide that Ruby was a "she" or that she was in a romantic relationship with another "she"; y'all, they just don't show the episode).

We see plenty of other examples of gender-role-related expectations being casually stepped on and squashed, like when they took the trouble to give traditionally masculine and traditionally feminine "clothes" to some watermelons to make the audience think there was a husband and wife watermelon only to have the wife be the warrior and the husband stay home with the child. With stuff like that, yeah, sure, maybe it's designed to make you think "oh isn't that very feminist of them!" Or maybe it's more "well why do I see this as a 'reversal' when it's just a thing that happened?" This show is full of ladyish beings who fight and have power. And as for Steven. . . .

Nobody has negative reactions onscreen (or even particularly confused reactions) when Steven wears traditionally feminine clothes, and it is (of course) also not presented as a "boy in a dress gag"--it's not supposed to be funny. When they go all in slathering Steven in literal princess tropes throughout the final act of Season 5, we understand that it's because the powerful Diamonds expect him to be Pink Diamond, not because the show is trying to girlify him or embarrass him or even make the audience think positive thoughts about boys in girls' clothes. It's more neutral than that in my interpretation: "these are literally just pieces of cloth, and while some of them have meaning, they don't inherently have a gender." I don't see this as transgressive. It's just in a world where putting on what you want to wear doesn't HAVE to be a political statement. (Though obviously it CAN be, and plenty of people wear a variety of clothes as a fuck-you to whoever they want to give the finger to. I just don't see that as happening here.)

Don't get me wrong; Rebecca Sugar certainly knew about the politics (intimately) and has lived at many of their intersections. She was not ignorant of how queer people are seen in this world. She was silenced as a bisexual person because her identity supposedly didn't matter if she was with a man and planned to be with that same man forever. She was shunted into "omg a woman did this!" categories over and over again, which she wore uneasily as a nonbinary person while accepting that part of who we are is how the world sees us. But what is it like if everything someone like her embraces is seen as a statement synonymous with "fuck you" to someone else?

She is married to a person who happens to be a man and happens to be Black. Her relationship isn't a "statement" about either of those aspects of his existence; her love is simply something that is. She is Jewish working in a society that's largely Christian. Her cultural perspective to NOT center her cartoon around Christian holidays and Christian morals; her choices to make an alternate world in this specific way is simply something that is. Her queer perspective as a nonbinary bisexual person has helped inform the Gems' radical philosophy of "what if we learned to explore and define ourselves instead of doing the 'jobs' we're assigned and being told it's our nature?" Her decision to include queer people in a broadly queer cartoon isn't designed PRIMARILY as a battle against baddies, or to drown out all the relentless straightness, or to deliciously get our queer little paws all over their kids' TV. It's an act of love.

So this is just to say that though I DO understand that sometimes subversion and intentional transgression are very necessary, I do not think that's the HEART of what's going on at this Gem wedding. We got a wholesome marriage scene between two of the most lovely little flawed-but-still-somehow-perfect characters, and I very much want to see their choices as being about them. About how Ruby feels in a dress. About how Sapphire feels about not having to always wear a dress. About them incorporating a symbol of their union into their separate lives so they can have some independence in their togetherness. About them celebrating their love by letting Steven wipe his schmaltz all over them.

There are many choices in the show that ARE carefully constructed to counter existing narratives, you know, giving the Crystal Gems' only boy all the healing, pink, flower imagery; having a single-sex species that's ladyish with all the members going by "she"; featuring many nurturing male characters who cry and cook and raise kids without mothers; pairing multiple fighty ladies with gentler guys; and importantly, intentionally loading up the show with stories, characters, and imagery any gender will find appealing despite being tasked with expectations to pander to the preteen boy demographic.

But it's very important to me that the inclusion of queer characters and the featuring of their choices be seen primarily as a loving act, and way way less of a "lol screw the bigots." I want our stories to be about us. Yes, I know it's a necessary evil that sometimes our stories are also about fighting Them. But every time I see someone say they put Ruby in the dress to "piss off the homophobes" or "stump the censors" I feel a little gross. Like the time I picked out an outfit I loved and my mom said I only dressed in such an obnoxious way to upset her, and I was baffled because my aesthetic choices, my opinions, my choices had nothing to do with her. Yet they were framed like I chose these clothes primarily to cause some kind of petty harm to her, when not only was it not true but I was not even that kind of person who would gloat over intentionally irritating someone.

The queerness of this show isn't a sneaky, underhanded act trying above all to upset a bigot or celebrate someone's homophobic fury. It lives for itself. Its existence is about itself. It's so we can see ourselves in a show, and it's so people who aren't queer or don't have those experiences can see that we exist, we participate, we want very similar things, and definitely are focusing way more about celebrating our love at our own weddings rather than relishing the thought of bigots tearing their hair out and hating us.

It's dangerous to turn every act of our love into a deliberate movement in a battle strategy when their weddings just get to be weddings.

I think there’s this idea that that [queer characters] is something that applies or should be only discussed with adults that is completely wrong. And I think when you realize that talking to kids about heteronormativity is just like air that you breathe all the time, it’s kind of amazing that that is not true in any other capacity. I think if you wait to tell kids, to tell queer youth that it matters how they feel or that they are even a person, then it’s going to be too late! You have to talk about it—you have to let it be what it gets to be for everyone. I mean, like, I think about, a lot of times I think about sort of fairy tales and Disney movies and the way that love is something that is ALWAYS discussed with children. And I think also there’s this idea that’s like, oh, we should represent, you know, queer characters that are adults, because there are adults that are queer, and you should know that’s something that is happening in the adult world, but that’s not how those films or those stories are told to children. You’re told that YOU should dream about love, about this fulfilling love that YOU’RE going to have. […] The Prince and Snow White are not like someone’s PARENTS. They’re something you want to be, that you are sort of dreaming of a future where you will find happiness. Why shouldn’t everyone have that? It’s really absurd to think that everyone shouldn’t get to have that! --Rebecca Sugar

[comicaurora]

How would you as the writer say each of the main six characters fits into which major characteristics of the five man band?

I'd say they don't, but it is fun to lay out the arguments for each of them filling every role.

Kendal:

The Leader; he's the one who got everyone together and he carries the most authority, literally speaking for a deity and doing most of the real negotiations with the powerful forces they deal with.

The Lancer; he's a foil to nearly everybody else in the group, and despite his quiet and gentle tone, has the worst track record of going off by himself and getting into trouble.

The Big Guy; he's got the most metaphysical oomph with the widest applications, and he hits the hardest out of anyone when he decides to start hitting. Gets taken out of commission early to avoid this outcome.

The Smart Guy; with the accumulated knowledge of centuries' worth of lifetimes and the remembered experience of a god, he has access to a wellspring of knowledge with an ease that nobody else can match.

The Heart; he's the one who keeps drawing people into the group, and he cares so, so deeply about their well-being.

Alinua:

The Leader; when the others argue or fret, she's the one who actually makes decisions.

The Lancer; she's learned a lot of hard lessons and sees Kendal making mistakes she's already learned from, and that tension brings them into conflict even though they care deeply about each other.

The Big Guy; direct conduit to a force beyond any god, when something really big needs breaking it's up to her and nobody else.

The Smart Guy; literally cannot stop overthinking, has an intuitive understanding of something deeply arcane to everyone else.

The Heart; motivated by deep compassion at the core of her being, even when it's tactically unwise or she thinks it'll make her explode.

Erin:

The Leader; he is absolutely certain that he is the leader of the group.

The Lancer; proud and self-confident, immediately sure that he knows what's going on better than anyone else, he's a foil to both Kendal and Alinua who are very aware of their limits. This also means Erin gets himself into trouble so, so often, and is continually surprised when the others bail him out.

The Big Guy: The most diverse range of magical firepower plus a superpowered evil side for spice. Erin is a mighty glacier and a glass cannon at the same time.

The Smart Guy; he is absolutely certain he is the smart guy of the group. The most book-smart, certainly, and fundamentally driven by a deep and profound curiosity to understand the world.

The Heart; he'd never say or believe as much, but his greatest frustration with himself is that he wants to be coldly logical and brilliant and instead he's driven by a pesky moral compass that demands he sacrifice his goals and convenience for the people he loves.

Falst:

The Leader; he'd never believe so, but he's very good at taking charge in a crisis, and the decisions he makes generally work out well for everyone. He's also very good at thinking tactically in terms of everyone's abilities and how they factor into the group. Also, probably the most explicitly loyal member of the group.

The Lancer; almost the platonic ideal of Lancer Energy. Angry and snarky and happy to second-guess everyone around him.

The Big Guy; in a Wolverine sort of way, it's less how hard he hits and more how hard he can get hit before he goes down for good. This is the only role he thinks he's good for.

The Smart Guy; aside from a lot of street smarts, he's a deeply curious and puzzle-solving type, and Erin has been deeply impressed with him since he robbed him for the purposes of homebrewing a backyard enchantment. It's all tactical.

The Heart; deeply, painfully loyal to his friends due to a raw, open wound of loneliness. Will hold the group together if he has to dig in his claws to do it.

Dainix:

The Leader; the only person in the group who actually has experience leading a troupe of fighters and knows how to look out for a group as a whole rather than a handful of loners.

The Lancer; the role he thinks the fills, in the "second in command good at taking orders" sort of way.

The Big Guy; has a literal hulk mode

The Smart Guy; the "has way too many weapons and knows how to use all of them" variety. His expertise is in taking down things much bigger and scarier than he is, and you can't do that without being tactical.

The Heart; deeply empathic and extremely in tune with how the people around him are feeling, and the only member of the group with both the emotional intelligence and the sharpness to cut through various teammate's emotional defenses and actually get them to open up. Not too polite to leave other people's issues alone.

Tess:

The Leader; no way in hell. The only role she categorically denies. Tess's beating heart is wanderlust and that doesn't mesh with a group of any kind.

The Lancer; yes please. She'll do her own thing first and foremost, and when it intersects with other people, she'll help out as she sees best.

The Big Guy; a literal lightning bruiser who resolves every problem by finding a way to punch it.

The Smart Guy; a subtler instance because she's fairly inattentive to anything outside her very narrow range of focus, but when it comes to her areas of expertise, she puts things together faster than anyone else. The first to realize what was going on with Tynan, the first to understand Dainix, the first to track down Erin.

The Heart; not particularly observant, but when she's confronted with someone she recognizes to be in deep distress, she'll open her heart and "home" to them without hesitation. Also, makes friends ridiculously easily.

[bloomeng]

One thing I will never understand is why most mdzs fans are so pressed about Jin Guangyao. I understand disliking him if you’re a huge fan of the canon characters he’s hurt, but so many of the people who hate him are only here for wangxian. And like wtf did he do to wangxian? To me, his biggest offense is killing Nie Mingjue who was literally already dying. But if you see any discussion online from people who don’t like him it’s only about how he married his sister. And it drives me insane.

Lemme spell it out (I say arguing with the wall)

1) When he is introduced to Qin Su he has no idea and accepts the engagement because it's expected of him to marry.

2) His father is a horrible abusive man.

3) Jin Guangyao sleeps with her once for the sake of propriety before he knows.

4) He finds out right before the wedding meaning that calling it off would be suspicious.

5) If he called out his father the best that would happen is him getting thrown out and losing everything he’s worked towards and the worst is his father killing him and Qin Su and even maybe her mother.

6) He never touches her again.

Whether MXTX meant it or not Meng Yao’s struggle is a foil to Wei Wuxian’s. This idea of severe classism controlling who gets to survive and prosper in this world is integral to the story. Wei Wuxian is lucky because he happened to be brought into a sect due to connections he had before his birth. Meng Yao isn’t so lucky. His mother being a sex worker is crucial to his whole story. Because of his mother Meng Yao suffers from this anti-sexwork rhetoric and I don’t say this lightly but a lot of his struggles in life are rooted in the misogyny towards his mother. So when people pick on him for marrying his sister— something he was forced into— and mock him for it… it feels tone-deaf. It’s similar to the way real-life misogyny effects the way people hate Madame Yu, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

To be clear it is not misogynistic to dislike Jin Guangyao that would be a crazy thing to say. It’s the way people go about it. When factors of his birth, his mother, and classism, in general, get mixed in, is when the conversation goes sour.

Jin Guangyao’s actions are not excused because his life was hard but neither are Wei Wuxian’s. People get so wrapped up in the POV of the novel they forget it’s biased. If the story were from Jin Guangyao’s POV I bet people would not loathe him to this extent. Which is so frustrating. Blah Blah Blah reading comprehension buzzword.

[killthewhisperingart]

Meet Me After Class

Pairing: Gym Teacher!Dean Winchester x History Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 790

Summary: Of course he's decided to bother you while you're grading papers.

Warning(s): Smut. Smut. Sex.

A/N: One of my friends challenged me to do this, so I finished this in one night. :3

I am an 18+ Blog.

You groan softly as you shake your head, marking another answer wrong on a students paper. You didn't understand, you had pushed the test back by a week to better help your students prepare, yet they didn't utilize any of the extra time correctly. You know for a fact that this student probably didn't know what class this was.

You knew once you passed these exams back, and your students saw their grades, you'd be their worst enemy.

You rub your hand down your face, popping your wrists before stretching backwards. Your back pops in a few places before you melt, dropping your arms and preparing yourself to get back to grading. A glance to the clock on the wall tells you that you've been in your classroom for an hour and a half since the final bell rang.

A knock at your classroom door startles you, a stray mark now on the essay question in bright red ink. You scoff, capping the pen before pushing out your chair, walking towards the door, your lanyard jingling with every movement.

Dean smiles, holding a bag of takeout. You look at it, before slowly dragging your gaze to his face, your hand on the door still.

"What's this?" You ask, your brows furrowed.

"Food." He says simply, stepping into the classroom. He's no longer in his usual Gym attire, having changed into his usual jeans and T-shirt, though the whistle still lingers around his neck. You think he probably went home, got food, and came back to work. "You know Food, right? You eat it." He teases.

You can't hold back your groan, rolling your eyes before going to your desk. He pushes the door closed behind him as he enters the room, jiggling the handle to confirm it's locked. You crash into your chair, and it rolls backwards. You take your lanyard off, tossing it onto the desk as you pick your legs up to set your feet on your desk, careful to not step on the papers.

"Thought we weren't supposed to put our feet on the furniture?" He taps your foot as he sits on your desk.

"We're not supposed to put our asses on tables either, but I'm not getting onto you about it right now." You snap halfheartedly, hand out as he puts a burger wrapped in tin foil onto your palm. Still warm.

He wastes no time in devouring his own burger, grease running down his fingers, no regard for the sauce on the corner of his mouth. You scoff out a chuckle, opening your own meal.

You both eat in silence, well, at least you do. He can't seem to stop himself from making obscene noises for his burger.

"You're always working," He finally comments, tossing the wrapper in the trash, wiping his face.

"Well, I actually have to *work* at my job, so." You grin sarcastically, tossing your trash at his face. He takes it in stride, catching it and tossing it into the trash.

"I work!" He defends himself.

"No you don't!" You guffaw. "You get paid to make students stay in shape, but you don't do the same."

"I work out regularly!" He points out. "My stamina is amazing."

"As if."

-

The desk is hard against your chest, your hands gripping the sides hard. The wood furniture scrapes against the floor harshly with every rough thrust from behind you. His jeans rub the skin on the back of your thighs as he fucks into you.

"What was that?" He asks, a cocky grin on his face as he positions his head next to yours. "What'd you say about my stamina?"

"Shut up-" You choke out, whining as you scrape your nails against the wood.

"I can't hear you." He teases, biting your ear lobe, tugging roughly. You almost squeal, but you clamp a hand over your mouth, knowing you couldn't possibly be the only two people left in the school.

He's so damn talkative, never knowing how to shut the fuck up and just fuck you.

You push yourself up, turning your torso to grab the whistle around his neck. His eyes widen as you jerk it forward to connect your lips to his. He eagerly returns your kiss, kissing you just as sloppily as he eats his food.

His thrusts turn sloppy, his chest stuttering with every shaky breath. His saliva drools into your open mouth, and eagerly you swallow.

His grip tightens on your hips, body shuddering one last time with three final deep thrusts. He stays seated within you, collecting himself, the whistle jingling as you let go.

"Fuck-" You mutter, kissing him one last time. "Maybe your stamina is fine."

"Just fine?"

"We'll have to test this again."

[absurdthirst]

Dominate Love {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17.3k

Warnings: Sex club, sex work, dom/sub dynamics, rough sex, spanking, slapping, tit play, anal plugs, anal fingering, anal sex, oral sex (male receiving) vaginal sex, bombings, dry humping, angst, violence, beating a man to death, feelings

Comments: When the club Joel frequents to exert some semblance of control over his QZ life is bombed, he's there with you. His favorite toy. Dragging you to safety, he brings you along as he leaves Boston and allows himself to admit the truth to himself. He's in love with you.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The bass thumps, reminding Joel of a time that only lives in his memory now. The music doesn’t come from speakers like it would’ve during his nights out to clubs during the 80s. No lights flashing or disco balls spinning. No, the music is from a live band. A sorry reminder of a time gone by, a way to escape the harsh reality outside as the band plays songs from before the world went to shit. It’s not what Joel is here for. He makes his way through the crowd, an eclectic mixture of occupants of the Boston QZ, towards the door that leads to an area very few know about. Bootleg moonshine and whiskey make the floor sticky, booze he’s played a part in smuggling into the QZ, and he grimaces as his boots grow tacky. He cleaned them earlier alongside the hidden weapons he keeps under his floorboards. He approaches the stairway, glancing behind him before he makes his way down the stairs, sighing in appreciation of the reprieve to his eardrums. When he opens the door, he is greeted by a large security guard holding a rifle and a woman sitting at a desk; her dress is tight but conservative, well, conservative for the place she works. “Welcome back, sir.” She greets him, and he nods, a man of few words, when he enters this place.

“She’s ready for you.” The woman informs him, the security guard shifting from one foot to the other while he eyes Joel. He doesn’t back down, staring at the guard until the woman stands and gestures for him to follow. Joel follows her, his eyes dipping down to her ass as she walks, but he isn’t interested in fucking her. No, he has other plans. “Enjoy.” The woman says when she stands outside the assigned room, a smirk on her face as she hands Joel a foil packet. Condoms, as it turns out, were as necessary as bullets in this new world. The last thing people need during an apocalyptic world is a surprise pregnancy. Too busy trying to survive, yet not too busy to get lost in the sensations of sex. He shoves the packet into his pocket, turning to see the woman making her way back down the hall, then he turns towards the door. With an exhale, he opens it to find what he came here for: you.

You are kneeling on the bed, naked, and your head tilted down to avoid his eyes as he enters the dimly lit room. He shuts the door behind him, making sure it is loud enough to make you jolt, and he runs his fingers along the things he requested be waiting for him. The paddle, the whip, the clamps, and the handcuffs. All part of his arsenal. He is pleased that you have them waiting for him, lube sitting on the side, and he smirks, knowing you followed his orders from his last visit. “You listened to me. Good girl.” He finally speaks after several moments, and you remain silent, drawing a pleased hum from his lips. Joel pulls his shirt over his head, wearing a t-shirt today, and drops it to the floor, leaving him in his jeans and boots. He walks over to the bed, admiring your tits and how your hands are clasped together in front of you, resting in your lap. You are a pretty picture, and he desperately wants to burn this image into his brain to use later when he is not in this room with you. “Tell me your safe word, darlin’ girl.” He orders, reaching out to grip your chin, bringing your gaze to his. Christ, you have such pretty eyes. You don’t respond and he grunts, gripping your chin a little tighter. “You can speak.” He tuts and you blink a couple of times before responding with, “my safe word is raspberry, sir.” Joel hums, pleased with your answer, and his hand lowers to grip your neck. Your neck is so delicate; he could easily snap it. Violence has entrapped his entire being, forcing him to do things he never imagined he could bring himself to do. He has survived for this long, hardened by this harsh reality, but here, in this room, he allows himself to release the monster inside of him. Discipline rules the real monster; if he allows it small moments of release, he can control it better. He squeezes your neck tighter, and a small moan bubbles up from your lips. Joel chuckles, “such a dirty girl, ain’t ya? You get yourself ready for me?” He asks, eager to get this show on the road, he has a shipment coming in tonight from Bill, and he has to be there. “Yes, sir, I prepped myself when I got your message that you were coming.” You answer, and Joel smirks, pleased to hear you got his message through the grapevine that has curled itself around the QZ now that his Nokia is a relic. “Get on your knees and show me.” He orders, and he lets go of your throat. You obey, quickly shifting on the bed to turn around and kneeling on your hands and knees, arching your back to display your ass to his hungry eyes. Joel bites his lip, dark eyes admiring your ass, and he grabs your ass cheeks, squeezing them and spreading them to reveal the plug you nestled into your puckered hole before he arrived. The metal winks under the dim lighting, and his cock stirs to life in his jeans. “Fuck, ain’t that a pretty sight?” He murmurs to himself.

One hand lets go of your cheek, and he pushes against the plug, enjoying how you whimper in response, back arching a little more. “Oh, you like that?” He asks, and you bite your lip, forcing yourself to remain quiet until he permits you. “Answer me.” He growls, wasting no time bringing his hand down to smack your ass cheek, hard and quick. Enough to make you gasp and blurt out your answer, “yes, sir. I- I love it.” He enjoys your answer, knowing he hasn’t even started. He grips the plug, twists it, and smirks when you moan softly. “You want me to fuck this little hole?” He questions, and you nod, “yes, sir. Fuck, I want that.” Joel smacks your other ass cheek, “you’re a dirty little whore, ain’t ya? Too bad I’m not ready yet. Want to get your little cunt dripping before I decide which hole I want. Maybe your mouth.” He raises his hand to push two fingers into your mouth, and you eagerly suck on the digits. Tasting his salty sweat and the lingering bitterness of gun residue that seems to be embedded into his skin. He withdraws his fingers, bringing his hand down to cup your dripping cunt, “or should I fuck your tight little pussy?” He hums, and you whimper when his fingers brush your clit. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “Or does my little slut want me to fuck her ass?” He murmurs, circling the puckered hole, barely nudging the plug, but it’s enough to make you whine softly. “I think I want all three.” He decides, making you nod eagerly. “Yes, sir, fuck me however you want. Wherever you want.” You tell him breathlessly, and he chuckles, “so fucking desperate.”

You are a little desperate. Despite the demeaning, harsh way Joel Miller can fuck, he’s not abusive. He doesn’t beat you while he fucks you. He doesn’t fuck you without prepping your holes for his thick cock. You are treated better than some in the club because you’re Joel’s favorite and the owner is scared of him, even more - the other members are scared of him. There’s even a rumor he beat a man to death in the club for abusing the girl he fucked before you showed up, buy he never talks about that with you. Instead of replying, you moan softly when his thick fingers slip down to your clit. 

He groans when he feels how wet you are. This is his escape. The time he allows himself to access that deeper part of him he keeps controlled until the occasion calls for him to be in control. He has to behave in the QZ, not wanting to get kicked out, but that time is coming to an end. Him and Tess are working on getting enough credits together to leave the QZ so he can find Tommy. “Dripping for me. My little whore.” He coos, pushing two thick digits inside of you.

Your back arches and your moan again, the stretch of his finger a burn that you enjoy a lot more than you probably should. There’s something about Joel that you can’t resist, the gruff roughness is tempered by a sadness in his eyes that you want to soothe with kisses. Although you know that those same eyes go flat, hard and it excites you when you see the change. “Your whore.” You echo. “Sir.”

“That’s right.” His twang comes in, and your whimper makes his cock twitch, already hard from just the thought of you as he entered the club. “Such a good little slut, taking all that I give you. You want more thought don’t you? You’re a greedy girl. You want me to add another finger?” He asks as he does that, stretching you out for his cock.

“Yes sir, fuck.” You gasp out, eyes closing as your hole is stuffed full for the moment. You know that he will fill you even more. The thick cock that you had struggled to take when he first came to you is girthy and long, a combination that leaves you trying to walk on shaky legs when he’s done. “Want everything you want to give me.”

Joel groans, loving the way you completely submit to him. This is the only time he’s completely in control. He can control every aspect of this part of his life. He works his fingers deeper inside of you with a groan, “always so wet for me. What gets you wet like this sweetheart? Thinkin’ of Daddy’s cock?” He coos, slapping your ass with his free hand.

You shiver, not really caring for the Daddy term, but he obviously likes it. Fulfilling some fantasy of his as you whine at the sting of his hand. “Yes, sir.” You gasp out. “Always want Daddy’s cock.” You admit shamelessly. In here, you are exactly what Joel wants and needs and he rewards you so beautifully for it.

He likes that you indulge him every time he comes into this room. You have a safe word but you’ve never used it. He groans as your walls pulse around his fingers and he withdraws his digits, admiring the way your hole flutters at the sudden absence. “That’s it, baby. You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re gonna love it.” He promises, working on his belt to pull his cock out. “Want you to take my cock down your throat like only you do.” He groans, squeezing his cock as he pulls it out.

The good thing about Joel is that he regularly showers. He groans as he shuffles forward, your mouth obediently opening and your tongue out to wait for his cock. His hand pumps himself and then he guides the head to smear around your lips, teasing you with the length before he pushes into your mouth with a sharp snap of his hips, gagging you.

“That’s it, baby. Don’t choke. You gotta take it all. Be a good girl.” He demands, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck to keep you still so he can rock his cock deep down your throat. You’re sputtering around him and he loves the way your split dribbles onto the sheets. “Being such a good little slut for daddy.” He coos, closing his eyes as he loses himself in this, in you.

His thrusts are harsh and you know you will have to drink some of the tea that is made from the dandelions and tree bark to soothe it. Your jaw will ache when he’s done and you will be so cock drunk you’ll beg for more. Moaning around him, your cunt clenches and you can feel yourself starting to drip.

“Shit. Always so fucking good. Taking it all like a goddamn champ. I don’t wanna cum down your throat tonight, my little cockslut.” He grabs the back of your neck to drag you off of his cock. “Wanna fuck your pussy. Then I’m gonna cum inside of your ass after I stretch it out with my fingers first.” He explains, slapping your cheek.

You love how he is going to wreck you. He’s so greedy when he comes to you, taking everything he can from you and still wanting more. “Yes sir.” You gasp, trying to catch your breath. “However you want to cum.” If he cums in your ass, you won’t make him wear the condom. He can fill you up.

Joel manhandles you to turn you around so he can grab your hips, kneeling on the bed to position himself behind you. He grips his cock and positions himself at your entrance, swiftly pushing inside of you with a low groan that echoes in the room.

“Shit, Joel.” You moan, loving how your entire body jolts forward from the force of his thrust. Your fingers dig into the sheets underneath you, grounding you in the moment.

He keeps your hips tilted up as you fall forward, trying to grind his cock impossibly deeper inside of you. It’s incredible how tight you are around him and it makes him clench his jaw so he doesn’t blow his load too damn too. “Fuck baby. Feel so fucking - like a goddamn vice. How you keep this pussy so tight when I’m fucking you more often?”

You choke out a moan. “Cumming.” You gasp, even though the truth is that you are tight because he’s so fucking thick. “You make me cum all the time.”

He chuckles, “wanna make sure you keep letting me use those tight little holes.” He says, smacking your ass with his palm. “Love being inside this pussy. Makes me forget about all - shit - all about how fucked the world is now.” He admits, pushing his hips against your ass and you cry out, making him smirk. “Take it all. Whatever I give you. Want you to take every fucking inch of this big dick. Tell me it’s big.”

“Fuck, it’s so big, sir.” Your eyes roll back when that big dick hits deep, just to show you what he can do. “Best cock I’ve ever had in my tight little pussy.” You confess. “Best cock ever.”

Your confession has him twitching inside of you, and he groans your name when he thrusts a little harder, making you gasp and fall forward until your cheek rests on the sheets. “That’s right. Best cock ever. Wanna - fuck - wanna live in this cunt. Never leave. Fill you up over and over again and watch it drip out. You’re - fuck- you’re so fucking tight.” He hisses, sliding his hand down to cup your breast and he slaps it.

You squeal, wanting to promise him the moon. Wanting to promise that he can have whatever he wants if he just fucks you. You know that Joel is different here than outside this room. Out there he wouldn’t even acknowledge you, probably. You’ve never had the guts to approach him when you’ve seen him walk through the streets of the zone. “Fuck, you can.” You promise him. “I’ll stay bent over so you can just fuck me whenever you want.”

“That’s right. You’re my little whore. Gonna keep you full of my cum. Just fuck you whenever I want. Make you scream my name so often, you lose your fuckin’ voice. Gonna make you mine. Claim this cunt as my own.” He growls, sliding his hand up to twist the plug you have nestled in your ass.

The low moan is wanton, needy. Loving the idea and wishing that could happen. You’re already his little whore, but you would be willing to let him fuck you hoarse. He sometimes does this anyway. “Fuck, I wish you would.”

“Gonna do it.” He promises in the moment, pushing deep to press against your cervix and he works the plug out of you. “I know you do. You want this dick all the fuckin’ time. Like the slut you are.” He spits on his fingers, pushing one then two into your ass, working your tight hole open for his cock. “Gonna make sure you only feel pleasure…unless you want some pain.”

“Spank me.” You gasp out. Knowing that Joel likes to spank you. Likes to feel the welts on your skin and know it’s from pleasure and not brutal pain. You’ve seen the busted knuckles, the broken hands. Those days are the ones he refuses to be rough. Almost scared of losing control but you know he never would hurt you. Not like that. He likes your screams to be hoarse with pleasure. “Please spank me, daddy.”

He can’t fucking deny you when you beg like that. He hisses, bringing his other hand down on your ass with a dark chuckle, his other hand scissoring his fingers inside of your ass to work you open. “Want you to cum like this.” He demands, “want you to cum for daddy like a good girl.”

It’s not hard to do when his cock pushes deep and punches against those spots that make your toes curl. Combined with the sweet sting of his hand and his fingers working your other hole opened, you are moaning as you work yourself closer. “I will, fuck, I will cum for you.” You promise, whining when he pushes a third finger in your ass. “Oh god, Joel.”

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Don’t you fucking disappoint, Daddy. You’d better cum right this fucking second.” He demands and your cry of pleasure echoes off of the walls as you clamp down on his cock. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck, such a good little whore for me. You’ll do whatever I say, won’t you?” He growls, pulling out of your quivering cunt.

“Yes.” You gasp out, hating the loss of his cock and you whimper when he pulls his fingers out of your hole. “Whatever you want. Anything you want. Your whore. Use me, daddy. Please use me.” You babble, desperate to feel him inside you again.

He spreads your cheeks, leaning in to spit on your puckered hole then he spits in his palm and grips his cock, mixing his saliva with your cum as he notches himself at your ass to push inside of you. “Take it all.” He demands as he pushes into you.

Your back bows under the pressure from the pinch of pain. The lack of lube is a common issue but his spit helps. Thank god he had fingered you. “Joel!” You cry out, dropping down to your elbows and pushing back. Despite the pain, maybe because of it, you want more. You want to see him completely unhinged as you watch his reflection in the mirror.

He growls as you take all of him like the good slut you are. He clenches his jaw and smacks your ass, “you’re a good little whore. So cock hungry, aren’t you?” He mocks you, leaning in to kiss along your shoulder. He’s not allowed to bite you considering the situation outside the QZ.

"Yessss." You whine softly, gasping when his teeth scrape your skin. You would love for him to bite you, loved the idea of him marking you for a few days until the impression of his teeth faded, but he can't. "Hungry for your cock, only your cock, daddy." You feel him twitch inside you and moan at how it makes your walls of your cunt clench. "Your whore to use."

He growls, "yes. Yes. My whore. My little tight cunt." He hisses when you clench around him and he rocks into you, eyes rolling into the back of his head at how tight your muscles are gripping him.

You hiss when his hips start to snap forward a little harder, his cock drilling into you more aggressively. Every thrust a harsh punch and a low groan from the man behind you. Rocking you forward and you have to push back so he doesn’t push you into the creaking headboard. “T-tight little ass.” You moan out, wishing you could rub your clit. “Finger me.” You beg, “please, fuck I need something inside me.” 

Joel hisses, “such a greedy little whore. Want Daddy’s fingers?” He asks and you nod your head pathetically, a whine escaping your lips. “Fucking needy.” He snorts and slides his hand down until he’s pushing two thick digits inside of you, feeling his cock push against the thin wall between your two holes. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you.” He promises and starts to move his hips again.

You groan quietly, loving how full you feel and if it were anyone else other than Joel, you would suggest another person. Joel is possessive while he’s inside you, he would never let another man touch what he considers his. You’re his, and he will do what he wants, even his fingers is an indulgence of your needs. “So good, baby, you take such good care of me.”

He groans, leaning forward to kiss along your neck, “only I can take care of you like this. Only me.” He says despite knowing you have other customers but he likes to imagine you sit and wait for him to show up and treat you like his precious little whore. “Tell me that only I take such good care of you.” He demands, scraping his teeth along your neck, pushing his limit.

You whimper, clenching down around his fingers and cock. “Only you, daddy.” You whine breathlessly. “Only you can take care of me like I need. Like I want. I’m your whore.” You promise, shivering at the scrape of his teeth and wanting more. “Joel…”

He won’t risk you by biting you, not knowing what shit he’s exposed to outside that he could bring back, even if it isn’t the fungus. He curls his fingers and rocks a little faster, “need you to cum for me, baby doll. Need you to soak my fingers then I’ll fill that tight little ass with my cum. Deal?” He asks, panting as his cock twitches inside of you.

“Deal, baby, fuck.” You pant out. Feeling his thrusts start to speed up, pounding himself in and out of your ass as his fingers curl into your cunt. “Joel, fuck baby, harder.” He loves when you want more, but you really do want him to go wild tonight.

How can he deny you when you beg him so sweetly? Everything goes blank in his mind except you. The outbreak. Survival. The things he’s done to stay alive. Even Sarah and her death seem to fade into the background as he pounds into your body, losing himself in the control and the pleasure. “Cum for me.” He grunts, barely hanging on as he twists his wrist to press his thumb to your clit.

Your nerves are alight with pleasure, the pressure built up inside you and curling in your stomach. The added sensation of your clit throws you over the edge and you start to come apart with a loud scream. Unable to contain it as your entire body responds to Joel’s manipulation.

He shudders behind you as you clamp down on his cock and he loves how you soak his fingers. “That’s it baby. That’s - that’s fucking it.” He growls and withdraws his fingers, slick digits gripping your hip as he grunts, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, lifting up onto his aching knees a little higher. “Shit. I’m gonna - gonna fill you up. Beg for it. Beg me for my cum.” He demands breathlessly.

Your eyes cross every time he fucks back into you. Practically lifting you up as he works himself impossibly deep. He’s not wearing a condom so when he cums, you will be dripping his seed. “Fill me up.” You gasp out desperately. “Please, I need- I need you to fill me up. I want to feel it.”

Joel groans, rocking into you again and again until finally, he stills. His hips digging into your ass, his belly that has developed in middle age rests against your skin as he pushes his cock deep. Twitching inside of you, he fills you with rope after rope of sticky cum, a low groan of your name escaping his lips as his fingers dig into your flesh.

This is the only way that Joel will cum inside you. This or your mouth and you love the hot feeling of his seed. Technically you should insist that he use it every time, but you know he’s clean and besides you, Tess is the only person he sleeps with. All your others always use condoms, but you have let Joel cum in your ass since the very beginning.

“Fuck baby.” He murmurs, leaning in to kiss along your spine. He nudges your skin and groans as he slowly pulls out of you to watch his cum well up and drip out of your puckered hole. “That’s it, baby. Shit.” He says as he pushes his finger into you to push it back in, knowing you’ll have to deal with it later but he loves seeing it. Reminds him of younger days when he wasn’t worried about the lack of birth control and the death sentence that is pregnancy.

You close your eyes and smile, panting against the cool sheets. You are worn out and feeling the familiar ache that comes with having Joel in your room. “Was it good, daddy?” You coo softly, wanting to make sure that he doesn’t have something else in mind for you. After sessions with him, all you want to do is sleep.

He gently smacks your ass, “fucking perfect as always, sweetheart. Always take me so well. It’s why I always come back to you. Never judgin’ me for what I want.” He admits, shuffling off of the bed to tuck his cock away and grab the credits from his pocket to give you a little extra. He pays at the desk on the way out but he always likes to give you some extra to make sure you have enough.

“Why would I judge you since I want it too?” You ask, straightening up and reaching for the thin dressing gown that didn’t conceal much. You don’t protest the credits, knowing he will insist just like he does every time, but you smile. “When are you planning on leaving?” You ask softly. “I know it’s getting close.”

Joel sighs, rubbing his cheek, “we are close. I- I just need a few more credits and we gotta get the battery which is proving to be a fucking pain. We will get it soon. Then we will be leaving.” He says with a heavy sigh, knowing it won’t be easy to head out there to find Tommy.

You frown, knowing the extra credits Joel gives you are taking away from his goal. Moving over to the decorative box on your dresser. You open it up and remove the false bottom, revealing the stack of credits that you’ve amassed. Pulling out the notes, you turn back to Joel and hold them out. “Take these.” You insist, shoving them into his hand. “I know it’s driving you crazy to not know.”

Joel’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, trying to shove the notes back towards you. “I can’t take your money, baby. You’ve earned it. With every inch of your body. I can’t - I will figure shit out. I will. Keep it.” He urges, needing you to be cared for even if he isn’t the man who will ensure your safety and wellbeing.

“No, your brother is out there.” Even though Joel is normally focused on pleasure when he’s with you, things have slipped out over time. Worries spilling out and you know that he is going to continue to worry about him until he knows what’s become of Tommy Miller. “Don’t argue, you need to go find him.” You shake your head and send him a small smile. “I just- be careful, will you?” You ask. “And maybe come see me when you get back?” You know that when he leaves the Boston QZ, the chances are that you will never see him again, so it’s a hopeless request.

Joel nods, stepping closer to you, and he cups your cheek. You’ve been his solace in a world that would’ve crumbled him in its palm after Tommy left. He leans in softly to kiss you. A rare event but he likes to give you a little glimpse of who he used to be. To prove that he’s still there, inside him. Just as his lips touch yours, there’s an explosion and Joel is pulling his mouth away, yelling at you to get down just as he throws you down and covers your body with his.

The world around you explodes. Screaming out as Joel throws you to the ground, smoke, dust and debris rains down over the two of you as your ears start to ring. A bomb, you’ve seen enough of them to logically know that’s what’s happened but you can’t think, can’t move. Feeling like the world has slowed down to a crawl and the ringing inside your head deafens you.

Joel winces, his ears ringing, and he lifts his head to look around, body tense with adrenaline as his instincts kick into action. He checks for any nearby danger and helps you to your feet, lifting you up onto his shoulder when you don’t respond to him, appearing to be in a daze. Joel’s hearing clears a little and you blink as he carries you out of your room. Joel hears shouting and his heart is pounding as the smoke makes it hard to see and he tries to keep you safe while also preparing to fight. Fucking Fireflies is his guess.

You’re being carried. You slowly start to realize that as you come to. All of a sudden your hearing comes back and it no longer sounds like you’re underwater. Alarms blaring and there’s the sound of gunfire that makes you jump. “Joel!” You scream, trying to look over his head to see where he is taking you.

Joel doesn’t respond. Just carries you up the emergency exit stairs that the staff and those who are in the know use when they come and go. The street is chaos, FEDRA firing back at the Fireflies and Joel sets you down. “We need to move. Can you walk?” He asks, wishing he had his jacket to drape around you and you are barefoot but he needs to keep his hand free in case he needs to fight.

Pulling your robe closed around you, you nod. Turning back your eyes widen when you see that half the building is gone. Rubble piled up and you can hear the screams from inside. Joel calls your name and you look back at him. “We need to go.” He grabs your hand and drags you behind him, ducking down when some shots are fired too close for comfort with the ensuing battle.

“We need to leave. Now.” He demands and drags you down the street into an alley he knows. The streets are filthy out this way but he doesn’t give a fuck about your feet, he’s more concerned with saving your life. His heart pounds in his chest as he escorts you through the back alleys he knows like the back of his hand until he arrives at his apartment building.

Your body is shivering, a side effect of nearly being killed and your adrenaline is making your heart race. “Joel…” you cling to his hand, feet cut and bleeding and you know you are probably bruised. “Where- where are you taking me?”

Joel doesn't respond as he pulls you along up the stairs until he reaches his place. Grabbing the key, he unlocks the apartment and pushes inside, dragging you in behind him. He locks the door once you're in and turns to you, his dark eyes immediately scanning your face and making his gaze trail along your body in search of injuries. "You hurt?" He asks with a bite.

“I- I don’t think-“ you shake your head and frown as you do an internal check. “Just my feet.” You tell him, looking down at the dirty and bleeding appendages. Joel reaches out and cups your face gently, eyes staring into yours and you know he’s checking to make sure you don’t have a concussion. “What- it was a bomb, right?”

Joel nods, "yeah. Fuckin' Fireflies. Bombin' shit like it's gonna make a goddamn difference." He snorts and shifts to kneel, patting down your legs until he reaches your feet. "Sit." He orders, pulling out the chair behind you. He has a first aid kit - as basic as it is - that Tess uses on him when he gets into fights with assholes who like to try and test him. He stands up and grabs the kit plus the bottle of whiskey he got from Bill when he was last there. He kneels back down in front of you when you're seated and he grabs the bottle of whiskey, "drink this. Will help the shock."

Taking the bottle you pull the cork and take a sniff. “Shit, this is real.” You huff in amazement, taking a swig and nearly moaning over the taste. “Doesn’t burn nearly as bad as that bathtub bullshit.” You hum, enjoying the warmth as it spreads through your body.

He chuckles, opening the kit to grab the alcohol wipes Bill had given him one day when he heard Joel and Tess were using booze to clean their wounds. You hiss at the sting and he winces, “sorry, sweetheart. Gotta clean it up.” He says and carefully dabs the skin.

You watch him carefully, amazed at how gentle he is with you. He’s not a cruel man, but he’s never exactly nurturing. To see him care for you so gently is amazing. “You’re good at this.” You murmur. “Clean up a lot of wounds?”

Joel snorts, “more than you know. My own…Tess’s…Tommy’s, well, I used to - you know.” He clears his throat and grabs the bandages, working on wrapping your feet so they are clean. “You in pain?” He asks, looking up at you for a second.

“Yeah.” You admit with a careless shrug. “My club was bombed. Of course I hurt.” You snort. “Although…..you probably hurt more.”

Joel shakes his head, “I always hurt. Gettin’ too fuckin’ old.” He admits, his eyes flickering up to you and God, you’re so gorgeous even after barely escaping your club being bombed. “Have some more whiskey.” He orders, already thinking about how he can get you to Bill and Frank’s, get you somewhere secure and safe.

You take another drink and close your eyes. Starting to freak out. The club was your home, that room was where you lived. Now everything you own is gone and you have nothing and nowhere to go. You take another gulp of the alcohol and start to tremble slightly. Trying to assure yourself that you will be okay.

“Hey. Hey. Eyes on me.” Joel says, noticing your hands starting to shake. You look at him and he reaches up to cup your cheek, “it’ll be okay. I got somewhere you can go. You trust me?”

“I can’t stay here.” You know that he’s with Tess, or as with her as Joel can be. Everyone in the club wonders why she hasn’t come and kicked your ass, considering she was just as feared as he was. Or maybe she was feared because of him. Either way, they were a thing and you weren’t a part of that. “I have to- I have to go.”

Joel shakes his head, reaching for your hand to stop you from standing up. "You have nowhere to go. You have no clothes. No shoes. FEDRA will find you and lock you up for soliciting or sign you up for the program to get you into their grip. You can't go. Let me - let me take care of you." He pleads, needing to make sure you're okay.

“Tess-“ you gesture around the apartment; the bed that he obviously shares with her. “I can’t stay here. You know that. It’s not right.”

Joel sighs, "Tess and I- it's complicated. She - she never got over losing her kid and her husband and I never got over losing my - look, we know the darkest parts of each other and I - she has seen me at my worst but I don't...her and I - it's convenient." He explains, trying to tell you that he isn't in love with her. He cares for her but he doesn't feel the same way she does. Not sure he ever could, honestly.

You frown slightly, knowing that there is more than just convenience between them. You look around the small space, convinced this is a bad idea, but you don’t really have anywhere to go. All your credits are gone. Joel might have even dropped the ones you had been trying to give him. “I can’t just wear the robe.” You murmur quietly. “Not here. This is her house and it would be disrespectful.” You don’t know if Tess knows, but you feel like she does. Still, you don’t want to flaunt the fact you fuck Joel.

​​Joel shifts to stand up, groaning as his knees ache, his body still hurting from the intensity of the blast, but he moves to put the first aid kit away and find you some clothes. He grabs one of his shirts and some briefs to hand them to you. “I’ll go to my neighbor. She’s around the same size as you. She’ll give me an outfit. Stay here and I’ll be right back.”

​​“Okay.” You nod, taking his clothes but deciding that you won’t put them on. Who knows when Tess will come back? The last thing you want is to have her come in with you wearing Joel’s clothes. Your entire body aches and you have to use the bathroom, Joel’s cum still crusted between your cheeks and leaking out of your body.

“Take a shower if you want. There’s enough water left. Not sure if it’s warm.” Joel says as he exits the door and makes his way down the hall to the young woman who lives with her boyfriend that he’s been working with. She looks to be about your size. They know him enough to know he wouldn’t be asking if he didn’t have to. The boyfriend opens the door, face set with suspicion like Joel knows his own would be. He nods and asks about some clothes and a pair of shoes. “This girl…she ain’t got a thing. Lost it all in the blast that just happened.” Joel explains and the girlfriend comes to the door, telling Joel she will be right back. She places some clothes in his arms, and he thanks her, making his way back to his apartment to let you get dressed.

The water is cold, but it feels good on your aching muscles. You are sore, much more than you would admit to Joel. You normally are after he comes to you and the blast just exacerbated it. Washing quickly so you don’t use too much water and stepping out to find that you look a little shocked and wary. Wrapping a threadbare towel around your body and stepping out into the apartment. “Joel?”

He closes the door behind him just as you step out of the bathroom. "I think these'll fit you." He says, walking over to you to hand you the pile of clothes he had procured from his neighbor's girlfriend. He notices how goddamn pretty you look fresh out of the shower but shoves that thought aside as he tries to figure out what to do next.

“Thank you.” You know that Joel doesn’t have to do anything for you. So for him to be helping you is sweet. “Why the fuck were the fireflies bombing the club?” You demand, dropping the towel to get dressed. It’s not like Joel hasn’t seen every inch of your body. “A lot of them go.”

Joel snorts, leaning against the doorframe and averting his eyes to the floorboards where his shit is hidden beneath. Just because he’s fucked you doesn’t allow him to be able to ogle your body freely when you aren’t together. “A lot of FEDRA officers go to the club. They don’t tell anyone, they blend in, but I notice them. They ain’t there to rat on anyone but they are there to enjoy the pleasures the rest of us indulge in illegally underground.”

“I know.” You snort, wondering if he’s embarrassed by your nudity outside your room. “One of them likes to brag that he gets his hydros from you.” You admit.

Joel snorts, “of course he is. They can never keep their fucking mouths shut.” He scoffs and shakes his head. “Clothes fit?” He asks and you nod, adjusting the shirt. “I’ll give them some free shit when I get something good.” He says more to himself than to you.

You bite your lip and wish you didn’t feel like such a burden. You wonder how many of the others in the club got out, or if they were arrested. “I’ll find somewhere to go as soon as I can.” You tell him quietly. “I won't be long, I promise.”

Joel shakes his head. "You ain't staying in the QZ, baby. I got somewhere you can go. Me and Tess...we are gonna get the battery and then we are leaving here. I can take you to a friend. He and his husband are good friends, they have a secure compound. You'll be safe there." He promises, knowing he can't take you with him.

You want to protest, to tell Joel you don’t want to be pawned off on his friends, but you don’t argue with him. Just shrugging slightly and you wonder why he cares. “If you think that’s best.” You murmur.

Joel nods, “you hungry? I have some jerky and some cookies.” He says, walking into the kitchen to open the cupboard to grab the small amount of snacks he has. “You ain’t a vegetarian, are you?”

You snort. “Hard to be anything here.” You remind him. “Expensive enough to keep your belly full. But no, I’m not a vegetarian. You don’t have to wait on me though.” You don’t want to be a burden on him.

Joel shrugs, feeling that he’s not really taken care of you in the past when it’s come to him fucking you until you can barely move. He’s never considered after care when he’s paying you and you’re there to be his toy and now that he thinks about it, he feels guilty. He wants you to be comfortable.

You realize that he’s not a man of many words and you accept that. “If there’s something you need to do, don’t let me stop you.” You urge him. “Did you drop the credits?” You ask. “I don’t remember a lot after the blast besides you protecting me.” Biting your lip, you smile at him. “Thank you for that, by the way. You saved my life.”

He isn't usually a man to fluster but your praise makes his cheeks flush a little. "Uh, sure. We, uh, I shoved them in my pocket just before we got out of there." He says, pulling the notes out of his tatty jeans. Joel holds them out towards you, "these are yours."

You look at them and shake your head. “No, I gave them to you.” You remind him and when he opens his mouth to protest, you cut him off. “I won’t need them if I’m leaving the QZ.” You remind him. “Get whatever you need for the trip or extra food because you’re taking me.” You urge him.

He wants to argue with you but he doesn't. He takes the papers from you, knowing this will pay for the battery. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make sure you're safe." He promises, "Bill and Frank...well, you'll love Frank. Bill is a grumpy bastard."

“So he’s like you?” You ask teasingly, sending him a small smirk before you tilt your head curiously. “How did you meet them?” You ask, making Joel look a little embarrassed. “Tess was talking to Frank on the radio and we slipped out to see what they were like. If there was something there we could use. We set up trade with them. Smuggling shit.”

You nod and Joel shuffles awkwardly at the silence, reaching for the jerky and cookies along with the bottle of whiskey before he takes a seat on the sofa. “Yeah and if they get anything, Bill will send a signal through the radio.” Joel jerks his chin at the radio by the window. “80s ain’t good.” He says, “but I haven’t heard anything from them for the past week or so.”

“The 80s are bad.” You nod. “Besides making you feel old?” You tease and walk over to sit down beside him. “Hopefully you have that battery you’ve been talking about lined up?” You ask, taking the bottle and having a sip before handing it back to him. “What’s your plan?”

Joel sighs as he takes a sip from the bottle of whiskey. "Tess is meeting the asshole who has the battery to confirm we are getting it and we have the credits. Tess is out tonight and she - she should be coming over here." He frowns, glancing down at his broken watch and curses himself before he looks out of the window. "She can look after herself though."

“Oh, uh, I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” You tell Joel honestly. As much as you’ve enjoyed your time with Joel, you know that he’s not yours. You are just a toy to him, a sex toy to use and then forget exists until he needs to use you again. “If you’ve got someplace I can sleep, I’ll make sure I stay out of your way.”

Joel clicks his tongue, “like I said, me and Tess…it’s casual. We use each other. Besides, I wouldn’t want you anywhere else with this shit going down.” He says, his fingers twitching around the bottle. “You need to be safe.”

“It’s okay if it’s more than casual.” You tell him, reaching for the bottle again. “Really. I’m not judging.” You take another sip and look around. “I’m safe here? With you?” You ask, flirting with him slightly.

Joel snorts, “you’re safe from what’s outside. Safe from me? I don’t think anyone is. Not even me.” He confesses, glancing across the room to avoid your gaze. “You’re too good for the sins I’ve committed with these hands. Shouldn’t have even been allowed to touch you.”

“I like when you touch me.” You admit. “It’s not like I’ve never done horrible things. We all have.” You tell him. “It’s why we are still alive.” The things you’ve done are things others would look down on, before Outbreak, even now. You don’t care about that, you’re alive.

Joel doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the crooked floor boards. “I like touching you. A lot. It’s why I’ve always come back to you. I think about you, you know? When I don’t see you that day.” He admits, biting his lip as he struggles to get out anything emotional.

It’s almost physical, your reaction to his confession. Straightening up and feeling proud of yourself. Preening that Joel thinks about you when he’s not there. “I think about you too.” You admit. “Used to ask if you had sent word about coming.”

Joel's stomach twists and he turns to look at you. "I wanted to come more but shit keeps happening and the credits..." He trails off, frowning at the fact that he's spent quite a bit on having sex with you.

“I know.” You lean in, admiring the way his eyes are dark and seemingly boring into your soul. “But now, there’s no credits to exchange.” You point out. “When you want me again, take me.”

Joel knows that Tess could be back any second but he could never resist when you look at him like that. He swallows harshly and his dark eyes flick down to your lips, slowly leaning in to give you a chance to pull back but when you don't, he leans in to press his lips to yours.

This kiss is softer, sweeter than the kisses Joel had given you in the club. Raw and real, no agreement between you. Reaching up, you slide a hand around the back of his neck and move to straddle him. He’s still dusty and dirty from the blast, but you don’t care. You’re alive and so is he. That’s all that matters right now.

Joel sighs into the kiss, his hands trailing along your spine. He shouldn’t be soft. He shouldn’t allow emotions to seep into the hard shell he’s maintained with you but he needs to reassure himself that you’re alive and okay. He deepens the kiss, gripping your chin to tilt your head, and he slides his tongue into your mouth when you gasp.

Your eyes flutter closed and you melt against him. Rolling your hips slowly as the kiss deepens. Loving the closeness, the sweetness of the moment. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with him. It’s almost like you are a new couple, slowly feeling each other out.

Joel knows he can’t fuck you. You must be sore from earlier and from the blast, and he’s filthy, but your body moving on top of him and your tongue tangling with his has him groaning into your mouth, his cock hardening beneath you.

You moan into his mouth, enjoying the way his body responds to you and even though you know that he’s not going to fuck you, your cunt is dripping. Enjoying the celebration that you are alive and so is he. Slowly, your fingers slide up into his hair and you tangle your fingers into the longer locks. He groans again when you grind down onto him, making him thrust up into you. His hands sliding down to squeeze your ass in the tatty jeans and he loves the way you whimper in response.

“I love your hands.” You groan, breaking off the kiss to run your lips down his jaw. “Strong, hard.” You murmur. “Deadly. I know what they could do, but you only make me feel good.”

His hands squeeze your ass again, “love your fucking body. Fucking love your ass and your pussy.” He grunts, unused to giving compliments and especially receiving them. You rock down onto him and he hisses in response, “that’s it. Take what you want, sweetheart.”

You moan at his praise, surprisingly mild considering some of the dirty talk he has given you over the years. It makes this even more sensual and intimate. “You’re so fucking good Joel.” You pant breathlessly. “So good. Dream about you touching me.”

He chuckles, “the fuckin’ dreams I’ve had about you. Wake up hard. Didn’t used to do that. Gettin’ too fuckin’ old to be waking up with a hard on.” He snorts, leaning in to kiss along your neck, resisting the urge again to bite down.

You whimper, closing your eyes and your hips drag over his hard cock. “Bite me, baby.” You beg softly. “Always wanted you to. Always wanted to have you mark me.”

He groans, nudging his nose against your ear as you rock down onto his hard cock like he’s a goddamn teenager. “I can’t. The fungus.” He grunts and you shake your head, “don’t care. I don’t care. Please.” You whimper and how can he ever deny you when you beg so sweetly. He licks along the salty skin of your neck before he sinks his teeth into your flesh to mark you as his.

It’s better than you imagined. Just shy of breaking the skin, you know that he is marking you. Hard enough that the imprint of his teeth will last. “Fuck, Joel.” You whine, rocking your hips faster as your clit throbs. “More, baby, fuck.”

He groans into your skin, and wanting you to cum on top of him. He hasn’t done this since he was a fucking teenage boy and he feels like he’s gonna cum in his pants too fast like one with his teeth in your skin. His fingers dig into your ass and he rocks you a little faster, wanting you to cum.

“Joel.” You whine, closing your eyes and rolling your hips frantically, chasing the friction against your clit. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” You pant out, shivering when his teeth dig into your skin harder and he squeezes you. Encouraging you to cum and you let go. Body exploding in pleasure as you reach your peak with a cry.

Joel groans into your skin, withdrawing his teeth to lick along the mark he caused, his body almost vibrating with possessiveness as you shake above him, orgasm rocking through you. He pulls back to look at your blissed out face and he hisses, fingers digging into your ass to keep you rocking on top of him. He's so fucking close. He leans in to bury his face in your chest, breathing you in as he rocks once more and grunts, spilling into his pants like a teenager.

You feel his cock throbbing, groaning quietly when you realize that he’s cum in his pants. It makes you feel powerful, that this man can cum just from you grinding into him. “Fuck, fuck.” You whisper, fingers slowly untangling from his hair and stroking it gently back into place. “We’re alive.” You murmur softly, feeling tired and euphoric at the same time. “Thank you, baby.”

He closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted, and for the first time in a long time it's not because of booze. He caresses your back, inhaling deeply to calm his racing heart. "Shit. I need a shower." He chuckles softly, knowing that he's filthy and now he's got cum all over him.

“Shower.” You murmur softly and shift off of him onto the sofa again. “Maybe you will be able to sleep afterwards.”

Joel nods, grimacing as he stands up. He doesn't have a lot of clothes and cum stains are a bitch to deal with. He sighs and waddles to the bathroom, making you giggle. He turns his head to look at you, a slight glare at you until he can't hold back the smirk, "fuckin' laughing at me." He grumbles but grins when his back is turned as he shuffles into the bathroom.

You giggle again, looking around the apartment, interested in seeing what Joel lives like. You only ever deal with him in the club so this is a nice insight. Moving over to the bed, you yawn, feeling tired and you lay down when you hear the water start running.

Joel comes out with a ratty towel wrapped around his waist, seeing you asleep and curled up in his bed making his stomach twist. He hasn’t cared about someone this much in so long. He doesn’t really know how to act. He grabs a clean pair of threadbare briefs, deciding to redress in case he has to get up quickly and slides into bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you with a soft sigh as he closes his eyes.

You hear the door open, the darkness outside the windows telling you it’s still the middle of the night. A small groan, and a hand slides around Joel, bumping your back. “What the fuck?” The question is whispered but you don’t say anything and Joel just grunts and his arm squeezes around the hand. Your eyes flutter closed, too tired to really worry about it, although you know that Tess just came home.

When the light filters through the shitty blinds, you hear voices in the kitchen and blink through the exhaustion, your body aching as you shift to sit up. “I can’t believe you brought the fucking prostitute back to the apartment.” Tess hisses and Joel growls, “don’t fucking call her that. She’s a good girl. She was just trying to survive like all of us.”

Anxiety swirls in your stomach and you know that it was a mistake to let Joel convince you to stay. Wincing as you stand, you shuffle around the small half wall and bite your lip. “I’ll go.” You tell Joel, shooting Tess, a surprisingly young looking blond with a black eye and cuts all over her face, an apologetic look. “I don’t want to cause problems. Joel- he saved my life. From a bombing.”

Tess stares at you and you realize there’s more between her and Joel than he let on. “Stay.” Joel insists and you shake your head, “I can’t.” He sighs and narrows his eyes at Tess. “You have nowhere to go. Stay here. We - we gotta go get the battery and then we will be back. Remember what I told you? About Bill’s?” He asks, ignoring the way Tess shakes her head.

“Look, I don’t want to cause issues, and obviously being here is doing just that.” You tell Joel. “I- I’ll be okay.” Joel shakes his head and looks towards Tess. “She’s the only reason we have the credits for the battery.” He growls. You shrug. “Doesn’t matter. I’m obviously not welcomed here and this is her space.”

Joel stares at Tess who sighs and turns to look at you. “Don’t go. Stay here. Joel clearly has a plan and there’s no changing his mind. Stay and we will get the battery then we will leave the QZ. Do you have any experience fighting or killing the infected?” Tess asks, crossing her arms.

You snort and shake your head, irritated at her idea that you are helpless. “I’ve survived this far.” You remind her. “And I’ve only been in the QZ for five years. I was pulling my own weight in whatever group I was in.”

Tess nods, looking at Joel again. “Fine. She can come. Just don’t be getting yourself killed. I don’t want to deal with a pissed off Joel.” She says as she pushes past you to grab her stuff to go and get the damn battery.

You look at Joel but he just shakes his head. Obviously no one is going to explain why Tess looks like she’s been worked over. “Stay here.” He tells you, handing you a bag. “Go through the apartment, take whatever you need.”

You nod and Joel sighs as he grabs his boots, getting ready to go shake down for the battery. He’s ready to fucking kill that bastard for putting his hands on Tess. When he’s ready, he stands up and walks over to you, his eyes pleading slightly, almost worried that you’re going to leave. “Don’t go. Let me figure this out. Get you somewhere safe.” He urges and when you nod, he stalks out of the door, shoulders set as he prepares to beat that asshole up.

Alone in the apartment, you sigh, looking around and deciding that you will pack up what you can. If they get the battery, then there is a good chance you will be leaving the QZ tonight. Not that you will miss it, but you wish you had a weapon. For now, you need to find some good shoes, not the worn sneakers you had been given by the neighbor. Opening the closet, you spy a pair of boots and smirk slightly. They are obviously Tess’s but they look like they will fit.

“I can’t believe you gave her my fucking clothes to wear.” Tess gripes and Joel snorts, “you wanted to come back and find her naked in the bed?” Tess rolls her eyes, “all those fucking credits you’ve paid her because I didn’t want you to fuck my ass.” Joel huffs, “can we not do this right now?” He asks as they enter the building to find the battery.

“Fine.” She goes to push open the secret door but finds that it’s blocked. “What the hell?” She huffs, banging on it again. “Do you smell that?”

Joel wrinkles his nose and tenses, gun ready as he pushes the door open with all his might. “Jesus Christ.” He hisses at the stench. Dead bodies. Men litter the floor, gunshot wounds in their bodies, and Joel glances around at the massacre. “Shit.” He grunts, back tense as he listens out for anyone hiding.

The next burst of movement, Tess watches as Joel grabs a girl and throws her to the ground, his gun pointed at her. “Point them at me!” A shout from down the hall catches her attention and she sees Marlene, leader of the Fireflies in Boston. “Not at her.” Tess scoffs. “Well if it isn’t the Che Guevara of Boston.” She snorts. “Looking a little worse for wear there.”

Joel keeps his gun pointed at the kid, unsure of if she is armed, and Tess sighs, “Joel.” She murmurs and his lip twitches as he shifts his gun towards Marlene.

“Asshole.” The kid hisses and it makes Tess smirk as she listens to the deal that Marlene makes. It’s a good one, especially since it would mean better equipment than what they could get themselves. Joel is on the fence, but she knows that he will do what she wants. “Think of your girlfriend.” Tess tells him. “The FEDRA vehicle will be nicer than what we’ve got.

Ellie lunges for the knife and Joel swings his gun back towards her as he steps on the weapon. 

“Joel!” Marlene hisses, shaking her head. “Ellie, no.” She instructs the little girl. “You are all that matters. Joel will take you to my people, you go with him.”

Joel shakes his head, unable to believe the turn this has taken. “Get your shit, kid. We wait until it’s dark then we leave.” He orders, letting go of the girl and kicking her knife aside. He glares at Tess and stalks along the hall, heading back to the apartment.

When the key turns in the lock to the apartment, you stand up. Watching in amazement as a kid is shoved inside and the door pulled closed behind her. “Hey! Assholes!” The girl, probably around thirteen, doesn’t notice you as she bangs on the door for a few seconds, obviously upset at being shoved in here. You wonder what the hell is going on and if she is coming with you.

Joel hisses at Tess as she tells she will be back and he shakes his head, unlocking the door and Ellie tries to escape but he pushes her back in and locks the door behind him. “Sit down kid.” He orders, his eyes finding yours and he walks over to you. “She’s coming with us” is all he says.

“Oh.” Your eyes slide up and down his body, noticing that he had gotten soaked in the rain. “Everything go alright?” You ask anxiously, but Joel just shakes his head. “No.” He grunts. “But we will leave tonight.”

He dries off best he can without getting changed and he sits down on the sofa. Ellie sits by the window, looking between you and Joel. “So are you two like, a couple? Ohhh you’re a throuple.” She guesses, figuring Tess is with you and Joel. “Cool. Progressive.” She says with a nod.

“No, no, nothing like that.” You promise, feeling your cheeks heat up. “What’s your name?” You ask, and she smirks, aware that you are trying to change the subject. “Veronica.” She lies and Joel snorts. “Really? Marlene called you Ellie.” He challenges and she rolls her eyes. You grin at her attitude and introduce yourself.

Ellie huffs, “is he always this fucking grumpy?” She asks and you snort, nodding your head. “It’s kind of his thing.” Ellie looks at Joel and shrugs. Joel closes his eyes and Ellie frowns, “you tired already?” She asks and Joel crosses his arms, “gonna be a long wait until it’s dark, might as well get some sleep.”

Joel shifts to lay down on the sofa, so you move towards the end, but he frowns at you. Making you wonder what you’ve done wrong. He covers his eyes with his arm and Ellie scoffs. “You know your watch is broken?” Joel tenses, but doesn’t answer and you are curious about the watch, never remembering him taking it off before but you don’t know if it was broken. Too busy obeying him.

Joel doesn’t respond as he closes his eyes and listens to the rain hit the window and he listens to you and Ellie breathing, trying to act nonchalant but he’s tense and waiting for something to happen. “So…you guys been together a while?” Ellie asks you, ever curious.

“Oh, no, we aren’t together.” You don’t know how you would explain your relationship to this girl, but you know that it’s not being together. “He’s helping me.” You tell her with a small smile. “He’s a friend.”

Ellie nods, a little smirk on her face as she reaches up to draw a smiley face on the window in the condensation. “Sureeee.” She says softly, not believing you. Not with how Joel was around you compared to how he was around Tess. She’s observant and she noticed in seconds how he behaved around you.

You huff and bite your lip, looking over at Joel and wonder if he’s just ignoring the conversation or if he’s fallen asleep. He’s still frowning, so you think he’s awake but you can’t be sure. That unhappy look might just be the normal set to his face in such a harsh world. “Why are you sneaking out of the QZ?” You ask her, sure that she should be in the FEDRA school or at least with her parents.

Ellie doesn’t look at you as she stares out of the window, “I gotta go west. It’s - it’s complicated.” She says vaguely. Marlene had told her to never tell anyone about why she needed to get to Colorado. Joel is listening but doesn’t let on that he is. Marlene didn’t exactly tell him why she had to go west to the Fireflies. He doesn’t give a shit honestly. He just needs to find Tommy and make sure you’re somewhere safe.

“West is dangerous.” You tell her quietly. “Raiders and slavers.” You send the girl a pointed look. “If someone offers you help, for nothing, don’t trust them. At all. Kill them. They will do worse to you, if they get a chance.”

Ellie tries to not look like she’s scared. She puts on a brave front but she’s never left the QZ. She only dealt with the infected that fateful night in the mall. She is terrified but she’s tough, sitting up a little straighter and she tries to convincingly say to you “I can handle myself.”

You don’t disabuse her of the notion, but it’s obvious she’s not able to handle herself out there. Not without someone. “Stay close to Joel and listen to him.” You advise. “He’ll make sure you get where you’re going.”

Joel listens, withholding the scoff at Ellie’s bravado and his stomach twists at your trust in him. He hasn’t had anyone trust him like that since…since Sarah. He almost touches his broken watch, the memory of the moment his daughter died, but he maintains his act and listens to you and Ellie talk a little more until the sun starts to go down.

During the talk with Sarah, you had been rubbing Joel’s leg. Not that you even realized it, just absent mindedly caressing him as you chatted with the teenager. Until the doorknob turns and you snatch your hand away as Tess comes into the apartment. “It’s time.” She tells you, lifting a brow at your guilty expression.

Joel pretends to wake up, wincing as he sits up and that’s not put on. He’s getting achy when he sits in the same position for too long now. Fuck, he’s getting old. He grunts as he sits up, looking at you, then Ellie, then finally, Tess. “Get your shit. We leave in ten.” He says, “I’m gonna take a piss.” He announces and walks into the bathroom.

Tess looks at you and rolls her eyes. “Did you pack up enough of my shit?” She asks, narrowing her eyes when she sees the boots on your feet, but she doesn’t comment on those. “Yes, I did.” You snort, picking up the backpack you had filled with necessities and even the gun you had discovered under the floorboard.

Tess huffs as Joel comes out of the bathroom and he rubs his hands on his jeans. “Get your shit, kid. We are heading out.” He says, “don’t wanna be later. The guards will be changing shifts soon.” Joel explains, grabbing his jacket and his backpack that he keeps ready to go. He walks over to the floorboards and takes his weapons out, the credits he keeps hidden. He packs it up and Tess gets herself ready. Once the group is ready to go, Joel brings his finger to his lip. “Everyone keeps quiet. No one says a word.”

The jacket you had stolen from the closet is probably Tess’s but you wear it anyways. Keeping your head down, you keep close to Joel and the girl, Tess following behind you. Feeling nervous about the idea of going out into the wild again, you take a deep breath as they take you along alleys and pathways, down to a sewer entrance. “Really?” Ellie snorts and Joel rolls his eyes as he motions for you to go down. You grab the flashlight and lower yourself down, descending into the darkness.

Ellie hesitates but Joel pushes Ellie inside of the sewer and she reluctantly gets down, wrinkling her nose at the smell. “Gonna get a whole lot worse from here, kid.” Joel warns her and helps Tess in before he heads down and pulls the manhole cover back over.

You get down and start shining your flashlight up and down the sewer, grimacing to yourself. It’s been a long time since you’ve had to do something like this and you haven’t missed it. “Come on.” Joel grunts when he hops down from the ladder. “This way.”

He escorts the group through the tunnel, stopping when he hears a noise, his hand raised until he thinks it’s safe to keep walking. He guides the women to the end of the sewer, glancing out of the grates and he raises his finger to his lips again, telling everyone to be quiet as he takes a second to listen for anyone outside before he works on pushing the grate free so they can exit the sewer.

“Holy shit, I’m outside!” Ellie cries out and the three of you groan as Joel grabs her and yanks her down right as the spotlight rolls around. “Don’t get us caught!” You hiss, knowing the FEDRA agents won’t be happy to catch you outside the QZ. Too many people have been hung lately.

Joel mentally curses Marlene and he shushes the kid. "Keep your mouths shut." Joel hisses at everyone as he lifts his head and he steps forward to check for any guards. "This way." He growls, stepping quietly through the outer fences of the QZ, his gun aimed as his heart pounds in his chest, his ears listening for anyone nearby.

Your heart stops when you hear the FEDRA agent yell at all of you to freeze. Instantly complying because you know that it will be worse if you fight them. You hold up your hands and look at Joel and Tess.

"Get down on your knees." The FEDRA agent growls and Joel follows his order, his hands in the air, and he curses softly. When the test stings his neck, Joel hisses and the agent moves on to Tess. Joel tries to bargain, offering the agent some more pills but he isn't having it.

“Well what do we have here?” You know that voice, you hate that voice. This guy is in the club and he has a sadistic streak. He gets his rocks off on hurting others, sometimes you. Rarely though, since he knows Joel sees you. “Baby, you aren’t running away are you?” He coos, stroking your cheek and you jerk back from his touch. “We could have so much fun together.”

Joel clenches his jaw, so ready to kill this motherfucker for touching you. He hisses under his breath and the guard pulls your jacket down, leaning in towards your neck until he pulls back rapidly. “What the fuck? Someone bit you?” He gasps, “you’re fucking infected?” The guard asks, grabbing the back of your neck to drag you to your feet. Joel doesn’t even take a second to react. Spinning around, he grabs the asshole to drag him to the ground and starts to hit. His fists striking his head over and over. The blood splattering over Joel’s face as he loses himself to the haze of violence that he’s learned to lean into for his survival since the outbreak. His vision goes dark as he focuses on hitting the guard, his only goal to keep you and Ellie and Tess safe.

“Joel!” Tess snaps, your eyes wide and fixed on the sight in front of you. Joel beating the man to death, his body limp and lifeless and you know that Joel isn’t going to let you be hurt. He’s going to protect you at all costs. You walk over to him and when he pulls back for another hit, you touch his shoulder.

Joel flinches as you touch his shoulder, the urge to lash out almost overwhelming him until the haze clears and he looks up at you. His knuckles torn up as he looks down at the lifeless body beneath him, blood and brain matter scattered across the ground. He stands up on shaking legs, wiping his hands on the guys jacket. “We need to go. Now.” He grunts, his voice rough with the lust for violence. Ellie stares, almost fascinated and enjoying the sight until Tess taps her and she shrugs her backpack as she waits for Joel to lead.

You aren’t afraid of him, that’s not what this is. It’s almost a fascination. You’ve only ever seen Joel in control. Control of you, control of the scene, of what happens. The violence tempered, but now you wonder what it would be like for him to touch you when he’s like this. Would it be as sweet or would it sting?

Joel is shaking slightly as he flings his shotgun over his shoulder, continuing to guide the group away from the QZ. Another life he’s taken. Another life that darkens his soul. He doesn’t think about it too long, won’t allow himself the distraction as he keeps his eyes and ears open to hear of any other threats.

You follow behind him, watching closely as he tries to compose himself, knowing that he might need a few minutes to himself. Tess noticed, the girl has also been bit, but it wasn’t by Joel. The scanner had shown red and she’s infected, although she had promised that she wasn’t and that she could explain. You don’t even know if Joel registers that right now.

**** 

Joel’s eyes widen when Tess shows him the bite, rearing back, he shakes his head. The guilt floods through him, knowing he didn’t protect her, didn’t love her like she wanted him to. He’s wasted her life and she could’ve been with someone who could give all of them to her. “I- no.” He shakes his head, refusing to accept that she’s going to die. That she’s sacrificing herself for the rest of the group.

Tess smiles, the curve of her lips bittersweet and her eyes flicker towards you and then back to Joel. “If you cared about me at all, just a little. Just a fraction of what I felt for you, listen to me.” She begs him. “That girl is important. To everyone.” She understands now how important Ellie can be to humanity, to winning this horrible war with the infected. “Get her to Bill and Frank, they will know what to do with her.” She promises. “They can get her out west. Joel-“ she doesn’t reach for him, but she wants to. “Stop denying yourself what you want.” Swallowing harshly, she looks back at you. “Take care of her, and she’ll take care of you. You love her, even if you won’t admit it and she looks at you like you’ve hung the moon.” She snorts. “And she lets you put it in her ass. Don’t waste more time. You might not have much of it left, old man.”

Joel would usually chuckle at Tess’s frankness but right now, he’s devastated that he’s losing his closest friend, his partner. He nods, eyes hardening as the mission becomes clear again and he grabs Ellie who screams, “let me go, you fucker” as she resists leaving Tess. He grabs your arm too as he passes you, dragging both of you out of the capital building and into the forest where you can hide from the infected. The explosion shakes the ground and Joel pushes both women down, covering you and Ellie with his body.

Your eyes close and you start to silently cry, hating that Tess has sacrificed herself for the three of you. You know that she was infected, that she would have turned, but it’s still a loss. Joel cared about her, he had to have after spending so much time with her. Comfortable or not, she meant something to him. Joel pops up, gun in his hand to watch if any infected come out of the now burning building.

“Let’s go.” Joel orders when he feels the infected aren’t rushing towards you. He walks a little faster, pushing you and Ellie to move in front of him just so he can still cover you both. He’s quiet when you get into the forest, replaying Tess’s words over and over again. His eyes shifting over to you. Does he love you? Had Tess seen something before he even saw it himself. You turn to look at him, eyes bloodshot with shed tears and yet you muster a smile for him. His chest tightens and he swallows harshly, not returning the smile as his thoughts are chaos.

The walk is quiet, glum until you reach a stream. It’s a good place to rest for a moment. Joel needs it, he needs a moment to process. You herd Ellie off towards a tree and sit her down. “I’ll go get some water.” You offer, taking her canteen and Joel’s and moving down to the water's edge.

Joel shakes his head, tears stinging in his eyes as he crouches beside the edge of the river. He sighs and grabs a stone, admiring the smooth surface and he decides to find more, stacking them up in a small memorial to Tess, one stone for each year he knew her. He isn't a praying man but he says a silent eulogy to her, wishing her soul peace after fighting so long. He hopes she is reunited with her son and husband. He sighs, wiping his hands on his jeans as he makes his way back to you and Ellie.

It’s tense, and when Ellie speaks, Joel snaps at her. You know that she’s afraid that Joel is going to blame her, that if it were for her, that this wouldn’t have happened. She’s wrong. “We are all at risk out here.” You remind them both. “Best thing we can do is honor Tess’s wishes and get you where you need to go.” You don’t mention the other part, not able to put it into words. “Right?”

Joel nods, “yeah. We need to keep moving.” Joel says, striding ahead, hands clasped around his rifle. He’s mourning Tess but he has a duty to you and Ellie. He needs to get you somewhere safe and needs to get Ellie west. Then he can find Tommy. He doesn’t say another word as the sun climbs higher in the sky, the journey to Bill and Frank’s is carved in his mind so he can let his mind wander slightly to Tess’s words about you. Does he love you? It’s been so long since he even knew what love felt like. He’s built an impenetrable wall around his heart and he doesn’t know how to let anyone in.

Ellie starts to talk. Joel sometimes answers, but pretty often, he’s locked inside his own mind so you chatter with the younger girl. Telling her about your own experiences after outbreak and what happened, why you’re so watchful as the three of you walk along the road. You’re cutting close to an embankment and Joel urges you away, but Ellie is curious. Making you shove down the unease since you are sure you know what he’s trying to steer you away from.

Joel tells Ellie to stay away, wanting to protect her from the horror that lies in the embankment. He pushes her along and Ellie is curious as ever so he explains briefly what happened before she keeps asking him a million questions. His eyes drift over to you, wondering if you ever saw anything happen like that before you found the QZ.

You shiver slightly, looking at the bodies and you close your eyes. Not a particularly religious person, but you say a prayer for those poor people in the ditch. “Fuckers.” You mutter to yourself. “Hopefully all of them got infected.”

You walk for hours, the sun beating down on your face as you walk along the dirt road, once used by hundreds of cars a day. Joel glances up as the sun is starting to set and he doesn't like being out in the dark. He searches the forest for a safe spot, something with a little height and there's a river nearby. "We stop here." He says, stepping into the forest so you are covered by the bushes and the growth.

You follow him quietly, kneeling down and opening your bag. You had packed up most of the food in the apartment, determining they weren’t coming back to Boston and it would be needed. Opening a bag, you toss it to Ellie and then hand one to Joel. “How is your hand?” You ask quietly.

He flexes his fingers, glad he soaked the blood off in the river but it will take a while for the skin to heal. “It’s fine.” He grunts, taking a sip of the water he got from the river earlier. He watches Ellie practically inhale her food and he sees you hesitate. “Eat.” He orders, not wanting you to get ill or make a stupid mistake before you get to Bill’s.

“Yes sir.” You quietly murmur, smirking at the slight use of his preferred name in the club. You open up the bag and take out some of the jerky before taking a sip of your canteen. Joel shoots you a look, but he doesn’t say anything, making you bite your lip.

Joel is pleased to see you eating and he hates how his cock twitches when you call him ‘sir.’ Always sounds so fucking cute coming from your lips. He clears his throat and opens his pack, chewing on the jerky as he watches you from across the clearing. He will set up a fire if the coast remains clear. If he hears anything at all, he won’t risk it.

You finish up and pack away the rest of the food and wipe your hands on your jeans. “You have a sleeping bag? Or a blanket?” You ask Ellie.

Ellie shakes her head, “no. I don’t.” Joel sighs, grabbing his pack. “You can use mine. I ain’t gonna sleep. Gonna keep watch.” He says and hands Ellie the rolled up sleeping bag. “Here you go, kid.” He says and looks over at you, “you have one.” He tells you, reminding you of Tess’s sleeping bag you got from her when she handed you her pack.

“Yeah.” You frown slightly, feeling a little morbid about sleeping in a dead woman’s bag, but it’s not like you haven’t done that before. Everything everyone owns came from someone who died. It wasn’t like they are making a lot of new shit.

Ellie doesn’t take long to settle down in the sleeping bag, going to sleep like someone who has nothing to stay awake worrying about. No regrets. No losses. She’s innocent and her ease of sleep reminds Joel of how much he’s lost of himself over the years.

“I wouldn’t start a fire this close to the city.” You murmur softly, still awake and watching Joel as he scans the area. “Not unless you need it. Too many wander around here, looking for easy targets.”

Joel’s eyes meet yours again. Fuck, you’re so pretty. He nods, “I wasn’t planning on it. It’s not too cold. And it’s better to keep undercover. You okay? You cold?” He asks, knowing he’ll offer you his jacket if you need it.

“No. I’m warm enough.” You promise, letting the silence fall between the two of you for another minute. “I’m sorry about Tess, Joel.” You whisper. “So goddamn sorry.”

Joel stares at the ground, unsure of how to respond when he is the one who got Tess caught in that situation. He should’ve paid more attention. He should’ve done something to save her. He shakes his head, “it’s over now. She’s at peace.” He murmurs, hoping that when the day comes that he dies - either killed or bitten - that he will meet Sarah again.

You don’t speak again, settling down and closing your eyes. You wish Joel would crawl into the sleeping bag with you, but you know he won’t. Instead you try to get what little sleep you can, your gun under your leg, right in finger’s reach.

Joel sits there, listening to the noises of the woods. Nature has crept back into places that humans drove them from. Boston was once a bustling city and now it’s a sanctuary for the infected and the animals that have braved the derelict city now that the humans have almost disappeared. He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on Tess’s death. She sacrificed herself when she was going to die anyway. Joel knows he should be devastated but she was his comfort, his partner. She wasn’t the woman he was in love with. He imagines if it was you in Tess’s place and his heart clenches at the thought, almost in pain at the mere thought.

When you wake up, it’s not even sunrise yet, but it’s surprising you had slept through the night. It’s not something you’ve done in a long time. Sitting up, you immediately look for Joel and frown when you don’t see him. “Shit.” You hiss, reaching for the gun. “Joel?” You whisper softly.

He’d gone for a piss when you wake up and he hears you whisper his name. “I’m right here, baby.” He says softly, not wanting to wake Ellie before he has to. He kneels down beside you, “you doing okay?”

“Yeah.” You’re relieved that he’s there and you reach up to touch him. “Just wanted to- I didn’t see you.” You admit sheepishly. “Freaked me out for a minute.”

He nods, understanding how you feel and he wishes he could show you more emotion. He reaches for your hand, squeezing it, and he offers you a tiny smile. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Gonna get you somewhere safe.” He promises, “we ain’t too far from Bill’s. We will get there before it’s dark.”

You nod, wishing that you could ask him why he was so willing to leave you behind, but you’re chicken. Tess was wrong, he doesn’t care about you. Not like that. He feels beholden to you. “I trust you, Joel.” You admit softly. “Have from the very beginning.”

He doesn’t deserve your trust. Too many people have died that he was supposed to protect. He lets go of your hand and decides to wake Ellie up, wanting to get to Bill’s sooner rather than later. “Come on, kid. Time to get up.” He says a little louder, smirking slightly at her groan of protest. Typical teenager.

It doesn’t take long to get cleaned up, you go with Ellie to the stream to wash your face and rinse out your mouths. Rolling up the sleeping bags and shoving it back into your packs before starting back out onto the road. “Need to find some pads or tampons.” You tell Joel.

Joel nods, feeling a little awkward but glad that you’re here to help Ellie if she needs that shit. If you need it, well, he’s just relieved that you aren’t pregnant. That would be a complication beyond anything else right now. “Bill probably has some in his place. Keeps all kinds of shit.” He says, keeping his eyes on the road ahead and his ears listening for anything or anyone.

You and Ellie talk, the younger girl full of questions and it’s only a few hours later that you are walking to the edge of a gated community. “Bill and Frank have their own town?” You ask in amazement.

Joel doesn't respond with anything other than a nod as he enters the code to open the gate. Noticing immediately the decline of the house, the flowers aren't watered and his heart sinks.

You frown slightly, not seeing anyone. You had expected someone to greet you. Either with a welcoming smile, or a shotgun. Who knows how Joel’s friends act. You stay close to Ellie, trailing behind Joel as he makes his way to one house and opens the door.

His chest tightens at the lack of activity around the house. Normally Frank would already be coming up to Joel, asking him what he wants to eat and Bill would be grumbling about limited resources but there’s no one around and they don’t go out anywhere. Joel sets his pack down, making his way into the house to see the flies picking at the leftovers of a meal that looks rotten and he knows. His eyes sting with tears again but he inhales sharply and shoves down the emotions. He’s lost too many people. “They - they ain’t - they are gone.” Joel announces, “let’s shower. Get some food from their pantry.” He says, knowing he can look at Bill’s truck to see if it’s working.

“Okay.” You frown slightly, looking at the air of abandonment around the house and you know that they just didn’t leave. You bite your lips, feeling bad for Joel and you follow him upstairs. “I’m eating!” Ellie cries, hungry after the walk.

Joel nods, “you wanna shower?” He asks you, knowing you must want to after walking so far. You nod and he tells you where to go. “House is safe.” He promises, “the entire place is secure.” Joel sees the letter on the table but he can’t open it yet. He closes his eyes for a second before he sees you exit the room.

You wait, hesitant and respectful. Honestly waiting for someone to pop out, but you don’t get that. Doors are open and it’s obvious that the house was taken care of, despite the thick layer of dust that is now coating everything. “Come on.” You jump when you hear Joel, finding him watching you with sad eyes. “They have hot water.”

He guides you up the stairs to the bathroom. “I’m sorry.” It seems like that’s all you’ve been saying to him lately and you reach out to start unbuttoning his shirt. You assume that he wants to shower with you. Maybe fuck you, and you’re completely fine with that.

He wants you to shower with him and he is tired of pretending that he doesn’t want you. He was going to leave you here safe and sound with Bill and Frankie and now you’re gonna have to come with him and Ellie across the country. He’s terrified for something to happen to you out there.

You strip his shirt off and pull your own over your head. The jackets and packs left downstairs. Now it’s just the two of you. Reaching behind you, you unclip your bra and drag it down your arms. “A nice hot shower is exactly what you need.”

Joel nods, toeing off his boots and he kneels down to take yours off, tossing them down and helping you take off your socks. He slides his hands up your legs to unbutton your jeans and drag them down your legs along with your panties. "You're so fuckin' beautiful." He murmurs, his stomach twisting as he looks up at you.

“Joel…..” your heart pounds at the way he is looking at you, wishing that you had the courage to tell him how you feel. “How do you want me?” You ask breathlessly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

"Shower, baby. Let's get under the hot water. Who knows when we will get another shower." He says, groaning as he stands up, unbuckling his jeans to push them down and his cock is half hard as his briefs hit the floor. "Get in." He orders, "make sure it's not too hot."

You groan when the hot water hits your skin. “It’s perfect.” You moan quietly, enjoying the heat. You always loved hot showers but they were expensive and you rarely indulged in them at the club. Turning around, you watch him step into the shower.

He steps in behind you and reaches out to pull you into his chest, his head resting on yours as he wraps his arms around you. The water covers your bodies and he closes his eyes, relishing in the feel of your skin against his, knowing you’re alive and safe with him. He doesn’t need to say a word, you understand him more than he knows and you wrap your arms around his waist. Joel doesn’t know how long he stands there until he pulls his head back and surges forward to press his lips to yours, wanting to feel more of you.

If it surprises you that he kisses you, you don’t show it. Just immediately opening up and moaning into his mouth as his tongue wipes against yours. You need this, you crave feeling close to him. Scared and unsure of what would happen next. Your hands slide up his back and tangle into his now wet hair.

He spins you around, pushing you up against the cool tile as the water hits his back and his hand slides up from your waist to squeeze your breast, loving the way you moan into his mouth and he cups your cheek with his free hand, keeping your lips on his while he pinches your nipple.

“Joel!” You gasp out, cunt clenching and you are already dripping. Your fingers tighten into his hair and you pull slightly, loving how he hisses into your mouth. You can feel him grow harder against your hip and you rock against it.

He groans and kisses along your jaw, his hand sliding lower until he’s cupping your cunt, loving how wet you are already and he’s barely touched you. He slides his fingers through your folds until he’s rubbing your clit, wanting to hear you moan his name again.

You whimper, closing your eyes and leaning back against the shower stall as he rubs your clit. “Fuck.” You pant out. “You’re so good at this, fuck you always know how to touch me.”

He watches you as he rubs your clit, loving the way your mouth falls open and he slides his hand back until he can push two fingers into you, wanting to make sure you’re ready for him. “Tell me you’re mine.” He murmurs, wanting to hear it from your lips.

“Oh god.” Your eyes roll back. “I’m yours baby, fuck, I’m yours. I’m always yours.” You promise breathlessly. “All yours.” Shuddering, your walls clench down around his fingers and you bite your lip.

He loves and hates hearing you say that. Knowing that he doesn’t deserve you. The things he’s done…he doesn’t deserve to touch you like this, to have you like this. He works his fingers a little faster, twisting his wrist so he can press his thumb to your clit. “That’s right, baby. Mine. Gonna - gonna keep you safe.” He promises, leaning in to bite along your jaw.

You whimper his name quietly. “Gonna keep you safe too.” You moan, knowing that you will do whatever necessary to watch his back and keep him with you. Obviously you can’t stay here by yourself, so you’re pretty sure he’s bringing you with him out west. “Give you comfort. A place to lose yourself.”

Joel nods, his cock hard against your hip as he pushes against you, seeking friction. “So good to me, baby. Can I fuck you?” He asks, wanting to make sure. He’s not in the club anymore. This isn’t an environment with already agreed consent. You need to tell him if you want him inside of you.

“Please.” You beg, needing the closeness, the familiarity of him. Needing the release of his control over your body. “You can always fuck me. Anytime, anyway you need, daddy.” You whisper the word and give him a moderately innocent look.

His groan echoes against the tiles as he looks into your eyes, seeing the devotion and it spurs him on. “Joel. Call me Joel, baby. We ain’t in the club. I’m gonna take real good care of you.” He promises, curling his fingers inside of you.

“Joel.” Your moan of his name echoes in the shower. Seemingly louder than normal even though you’ve screamed his name before. Your hips lurch forward when he pulls his fingers back, craving them inside you. Loving how he stretches you out.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me. You gonna cum on my fingers like you’ve done before? Always so good for me.” He murmurs, pressing his thumb against your clit a little harder. “Cum for me, baby.” He demands quietly, yet his voice is like steel.

Your legs are shaking, The fact that you are pinned to the wall with his body is the only reason that you are still standing. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” You cry out, feeling the tension curling even tighter in your stomach until it snaps. “Jooooooeeeeellllll!” You wail his name, feeling the white hot pleasure race down your spin.

He loves the way you wail his name, thighs trapping his hand as he tries to work you through your orgasm, loving the way you shake and clench around his digits. “That’s it. That’s it. Jesus, you get so goddamn tight.” He hisses, pre-cum smearing on the skin of your hip.

You pant, not even able to respond because you are so breathless. No one has ever made you feel as good as Joel has. “Just for you, baby.” You manage after a few moments, moaning when he finally slips his fingers out of you. “Fuck me.” You beg. “Pussy, ass, whatever you want. I just need you inside me.”

He wants to make you cum around him. Pushing you back against the tiles, he grabs your leg and rests your foot on the edge of the bench that is kept in the shower, spreading your legs for him. He grips his cock and slides the head through your folds until he notches himself at your entrance and starts to slowly push into you with a low groan of your name.

It’s so slow it brings tears to your eyes. Feeling him slowly fill you up. Chasing away the emptiness inside you. It’s exquisite and all you can do is moan his name like it’s the only word you know.

He can’t say anything. Not wanting to be dominant over you, he only wants to touch you right now. Assure him that you’re alive and that you are here with him. He groans as he rocks into you.

Joel is so different this time. There’s no harsh demanding thrusts, the pace makes you ache like you never have before. Feeling every ridge of the length slowly pulling out and then rocking back into you. It’s enough that you wish you could stay locked in this moment forever.

His hands trail over your body, his hand squeezing your tit and he leans in to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth with an intensity that should terrify him. His fingers pinch your nipple and he wants you to cum for him.

You let Joel set the mood. Following him where he wants to lead you and moaning every time he bottoms out inside your cunt. “Joel.” You pant softly. “Please- I- fuck, I love this.”

He cups your cheek, bringing your eyes to his. “I love you.” He murmurs, knowing that he should be struggling with saying those words to you but it’s true. You’ve seen the darkest parts of him and you still want him. He loses himself when he’s with you in the best way possible.

You sigh in relief, so scared of saying those words. “I love you too.” You promise. “I love you, only you. Always you since the first time I met you.”

He murmurs your name, loving how you confess your feelings. He already knew but to hear it has his chest tightening. “Fuck, I- I want you to cum for me.” He pleads gruffly, his hand sliding down to rub your clit as he pushes his cock deep inside of you.

“Joel, baby.” You whimper his name again. Your eyes flutter closed and your hips chase the friction against your clit. You’re so close, chest heaving and you feel yourself come apart with a loud cry of pleasure while stars burst behind your eyes.

He grunts as your walls flutter around his cock, gripping him, and he hisses as your nails dig into the back of his neck, making him twitch inside of you as he tries to work you through your orgasm. “That’s it baby. Fuck. I- gotta pull out.” He murmurs, knowing he can’t get you pregnant. It’s a deathwish. You hate that he has to pull out, wishing you had that condom. When he rocks his hips back, you wrap your fingers around his cock and start to pump. “Cum for me, baby.” You beg, leaning in and pressing your lips to his jaw. “Cum for me, my love.”

Joel hisses at your touch and your words, his cock twitching in your hand, and he grunts, turning his head to press his lips to yours as he starts to cum, spurting over your lower stomach and hand as he paints your skin with hot seed.

“That’s it, baby.” You murmur softly, stroking him through his orgasm until he’s just pulsing in your hand. “Fuck, you look so good like that. I love you.”

He pants against your lips, kissing you softly as you work him through it until he's starting to soften in your hands. "I fuckin' love you. Gonna keep you safe." He promises, knowing he'd risk his life to keep you safe. He rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he cups your cheeks, silently praying he can keep his vow.

[godspeedmajortom]

I’m fascinated by how variations of Sea Power's “Want to Be Free (Remix)” provide a musical theme for death and endings that follows Harry and his foils throughout Disco Elysium.

The first place you hear it is as “The Field Autopsy” while inspecting the Hanged Man’s body. It's barely recognizable as the original song, though. It's sluggish and muddy and bilious. The piano melody has been lowered and sustained to an ominous funereal organ and combined with deep strings. A lilting viola line in the lush layers of the original "Want to Be Free" is isolated here and contrasts with the low organ, rising like the stench off a corpse. If you do the autopsy first thing as Kim suggests, Harry – freshly, grotesquely awakened from his apocalyptic bender – is not in a much better state than a corpse himself.

The music underscores a visceral scene of death and decay, our introduction to the Hanged Man, the first of Harry's foils. Both Harry and Lely are agents of state-sponsored violence as a cop and mercenary, respectively. They bear similar physical scars from the neglect of the systems they grew up in. They both desperately want to escape the horrorshow of their lives, using drugs and dark fantasies to cope with the terrible things they see and do but finding little more than self-destruction in the nihilism. The Bloated Corpse of a Drunk taking the Hanged Man's place in Harry's first night dream makes their connection explicit: you should be dead, Harry. This may as well have been you.

The next place you hear a variant of "Want to Be Free" is in the washerwoman's shack in the fishing village. “Live With Me” is wistful and melancholic. The gentle piano and cooing vocals evoke the wind and waves on the bay, an escape calling outside the salt-rimed shack. But this is a place of death, or at least its potential, as the return of the high viola from "The Field Autopsy" reminds us. This is where Ruby hid when Harry's arrival made her fear for her life, where she contemplated killing herself if things got even worse. This is where Harry can end up if no one vouches for him at the RCM tribunal finale, where his wounds will grow infected without medical care, where there is little left to do but return to drinking and wait to die.

But true to the song title, the shack also offers Harry the possibility of learning to with himself as he emerges from his bender. Here is a mirror free from the damage and trauma of attempting to destroy himself where he can reflect on who he was and who he wants to become. He can choose to keep or let go of his past coping/defense mechanisms like his facial hair and The Expression. He can choose to embrace or reject the self-defeating fantasy of fascism. The shack marks a midpoint of the game, when the hangover has worn off but before the case is closed. So "Live With Me" scores the balance between potential endings: abandonment or acceptance, relapse or recovery, death or life. Harry breathes in the sea air, breathes it back out, and takes another step.

I didn’t realize this until a recent replay, but “Live With Me” also plays when you visit the Working Class Woman to notify her of her husband’s death. Since this is an optional sidequest, I understand why they didn't create original music for it. But they didn't reuse "Rue de Saint-Gislaine", the song for the rest of the Capeside Apartments (including the Smoker on the Balcony's apartment when you talk to the Sunday Friend). The Working Class Husband is another mirror for Harry who has met his end, and "Live With Me" plays to mourn him.

Victor Méjean died from an accident while inebriated, a fate that also could have befallen Harry on a previous drinking binge. The striking thing about Victor's death is how easily he could have been overlooked and forgotten. He died at the end of a pier in a fenced off, abandoned part of town. His wife wasn't concerned about his days-long absence. It's only by virtue of Can Opening and Jamrock Shuffling that Harry will know about or find him. Victor literally and figuratively died slipping through the cracks – of the rotted boardwalk, yes, but also of any sort of social safety net. This is what happens to alcoholics in Revachol. This is what will happen to Harry if he continues drinking and hasn't built his own personal safety net with Kim or Cuno to prevent the RCM from abandoning him. As Harry informs Billie of her husband's death, it's only natural for him to think of his own possible endings, and the soundtrack reflects that.

The final version of the song you hear is “Burn, Baby, Burn” blasting from Sad FM on the boat ride to the Sea Fortress to find the Hanged Man's killer and Harry's last dark reflection: Dros, The Deserter. Dros shares Harry's penchant for clinging to political ideology to give meaning to his life and obsessing over women he can't be with. He lives in bitter isolation, refusing to move beyond the failures of the past, his personal shortcomings and the evils of the world alike. He's emblematic of yet another possible outcome for Harry: not literal death, but despair-induced stagnation that leaves one living like a ghost in the mortal realm.

By the time Harry gets in the boat to the island, his fate at the end of the game is set. The RCM (specifically Jean) has all they need to decide whether to accept or abandon their prodigal lieutenant-yefreitor. Should his former partners leave him, Harry can return to the shack and the circle of drunks who have also given up on life. Or he can return to the island, where he would take Dros' place as the creepy old man haunting the fortress, scaring children, and staring at the mainland with longing and resentment. But even if Harry returns with his unit to Jamrock, simply resuming his old life will not keep him from returning to the depths of despair. The RCM broke him; the RCM will not save him. Neither outcome helps Harry become a person he truly wants to live with.

"Want to be free/It will last forever/Eternally," croons the boombox on the boat. The lyrics echo the self destruction that Harry sought before the game's events: freedom forever from pain, the ultimate release of death. At least that's what the Ancient Reptilian Brain would see in those words. But there's tension in the lyrics as the desire for freedom and exhortations to "burn, baby, burn" repeat. The bridge offers an alternative vision of verdure not consumed by the disco inferno: "And the trees are green and overhanging/Feather-light, free, and everlasting." Perhaps a less moribund future exists for Harry, even if only in the next world, as a new person.

[corroded-hellfire]

Okay following Honeymoon, I have some questions...

When do we find out?

How do we find out?

Is Eddie with us when we do? If not, how do we tell him?

How to we tell everyone else?!?

All your questions shall be answered! @munson-blurbs and I had a great time exploring this happy time in this little family’s life 💜

Warnings: pregnancy, mentions of Eddie’s breeding kink, age gap, older!eddie

Words: 4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The day after you and Eddie returned home from your honeymoon, Ryan and Luke begged to stay home from school. At dinner last night you had told them all about it—well, the appropriate parts anyway. Now, their excuse was that they missed you both and wanted to spend the day with you.

“How about this,” Eddie said as a counteroffer, “you go to school for two days, then you can spend the next two days after that with us.”

“But…today’s Thursday. We only have two more days of school this week anyway,” Luke had said.

“Well, look at that. Sounds like it was meant to be.”

The boys huffed for a bit but then they started to notice the two of you acting a little off. You’re making sure their lunches are packed before they’ve even finished breakfast. Eddie practically has their outfits picked out for them and tells them to get changed before they’ve even swallowed the last of their oatmeal. He also shoves a glass of water into your hand and gives you a look that neither kid understands. 

“Is this what they’re gonna be like now that they’re married?” Luke mumbles to Ryan as they’re zipping their coats up. Ryan just shrugs and rolls his eyes before grabbing his backpack.

“Have a good day at school!” you call from the front door as the boys walk towards their bus stop on the street corner.

“We love you!” Eddie adds. Ryan gives a half-hearted wave in return. 

As soon as the boys are set at the bus stop, talking with their friends from the neighborhood, you close the front door and you and Eddie practically race each other to the bathroom. 

“Okay, so I bought seven tests,” Eddie says as he fishes out the bag from the pharmacy that was stored underneath the sink. 

“Jesus, Eddie,” you say with a chuckle. “How much do you think I can pee?” 

Eddie shrugs and starts to open the first pregnancy test. “I bought seven. Ya know, like the number of kids I want to have. Ow! Don’t hit me, that was a joke!” He sets the first test down on the counter and picks up a second box. “Technically, you’d only need to have five.” Eddie smirks and raises an eyebrow as he turns around to look at you. The glare you’re giving him tells him that you’re not impressed. “Don’t find that funny, babe? Huh, maybe you are pregnant, and the hormones are already raging. Before you hit me again, that was another joke!” 

You grab the two tests Eddie’s already taken out of their boxes and head over to the toilet. Your husband is just casually leaning against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Are you really going to watch me pee?” you ask. It’s not like you’ve never peed while he was in the same bathroom before. But now he’s just staring at you as you push your pajama pants down and it’s making you bladder shy. 

“I need to know if I’ve knocked you up or if I have to try again before I leave for work,” Eddie says. 

“I don’t need supervision, y’know.” You make a shooing motion with your hands and Eddie gives an overdramatic roll of his eyes before stepping out into the hall. 

You take a deep breath, then another, before unwrapping the tests from their foil packages. You could be carrying Eddie Munson’s baby right now, you think, and your hand trembles with excitement and trepidation. This is what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw Eddie interacting with his boys, sweet and patient and silly. And now, you might be having his baby. 

No sooner do you place the used tests on the sink and flush the toilet does Eddie barge into the bathroom. He’s wide-eyed, gaze immediately shifting to the white sticks. 

“Are you pregnant?” He asks, unable to read your facial expression. “Shit, you’re not, are you? It’s okay, we can keep at it—”

“Eddie,” you interrupt with a wry smile, “it takes ten minutes to get a result.”

“Well, how long has it been?”

You glance at the watch on your wrist and set the alarm, letting out a terse laugh. “About thirty seconds.”

Your hands are still shaking as you wash them. You hear the water running, and you can feel it on your skin, but you’re almost numb to it. Trying to play it off, you remain on autopilot as you dry your hands with a towel, but when you bring your thumbnail between your teeth and start to bite, your husband picks up on it. 

“What’s wrong?” Worry creases his brows, and he takes your free hand and laces his fingers with yours. 

“I…we just got married, Eds. And now we might be having a baby? It’s a lot, and I’m kinda scared…”

Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead, cupping your cheek with his calloused palm. “We just moved into a new house, so we have the room. Money won’t be too much of an issue—especially with all the checks we got as wedding presents.” When you still appear unconvinced, he changes his tactic to appeal to your emotional side. 

“I know it’s a lot at once. But I know you want a baby, too. How many nights have we stayed up talking about it?” There have been too many, spent with Eddie brushing his fingers over your stomach and talking about how he can’t wait until the most beautiful woman is having his beautiful baby. Not to mention the countless times he’s been deep within you, begging you to let him get you pregnant. “And you’re not in it by yourself. You happen to be married to a man who’s raised two pretty great kids, who—believe it or not, were babies at one point. And you know they’ll want to be our little helpers. Everything is going to be fine, sweetheart. No matter what the test says.”

He wraps you in his arms and you both slide down and sit on the bathroom floor together and cuddle up. You rest your head on Eddie’s shoulder, and he puts a hand on your knee. 

“Y’know,” he says, “the boys are going to lose their minds if you are pregnant. They haven’t stopped talking about when they’re going to get a new sibling.”

You smile. “Think they’ll help change diapers?”

“Maybe Ryan. You’d have a better chance of getting Luke to eat Brussels sprouts.” Eddie chuckles, placing his hand on your stomach. “I can’t believe we might’ve made a little souvenir on our honeymoon.”

“I don’t think I’d have symptoms that early if we made a souvenir,” you point out with a giggle. “This was definitely more like a pre-wedding gift.”

“Huh. So, Maybe-Baby Munson was technically at our wedding with us.”

“If I’m pregnant, then, yeah. Most likely.” Your fatigue could be jet lag, your missed period could be from wedding stress, your nausea could be from Eddie’s cooking attempts, but all three of them together? Could it all be a coincidence?

The two of you are so caught up in each other and the conversations you’re having that you don’t even realize how much time has passed. The shrill ring of the alarm you set startles you, and you jump in your husband’s grip. You manage to push yourself up from the floor on shaky legs, and Eddie stands up beside you. 

“I…” you trail off, wringing your hands nervously, “I can’t look.”

“Well, I can,” Eddie says, to the surprise of neither of you. He steps towards the counter while you take a step in the opposite direction, closer to the shower. 

Eddie picks up the first pregnancy test and beams down at the little white stick. He picks up the next one just to be sure, and the confirmation of the first positive has his impossibly wide grin getting larger. The excitement has Eddie’s heart pumping so loud in his chest he’d be surprised if you didn’t hear it. His hands shake as he slowly sets the tests back down, as if they're precious cargo. 

He turns to see you not even facing him. You’re staring at the shower wall, hands still nervously fidgeting in front of you. Taking the few steps to close the distance, Eddie slides his arms around your middle and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Hey, Mommy.”

Those two words have broken any semblance of composure you had. The tears are instantaneous, hot and thick as they roll down your cheeks. 

“I wanna see,” you say, slipping out of Eddie’s arms to look at the positive pregnancy tests yourself. The two pink lines on each of them staring back at you feel surreal. As if this is just some joke and someone scribbled on them with a pink marker. “Holy shit, I’m going to be a mom.”

You turn to Eddie and practically leap into his arms. He catches you with a chuckle and squeezes you just as tightly as you’re squeezing him. A few moments pass like that—both of you just holding one another as you take this new information in. You know it’s not going to sink in for a while; how could it? This was something you’d never thought would happen in your wildest dreams. The man you used to wait to see just for a few minutes a day between him coming home after work and you leaving for your apartment is now the father of your baby. It makes you dizzy with excitement.

Eventually, you both release the other from your crushing grips. Eddie cups your jaw with his large hands and presses a soft and sweet kiss on your lips. It conveys all the love and happiness that is swimming throughout his body. His hands slide down from your jaw, down your chest and stomach, coming to a stop on your lower abdomen.

“Can’t believe our baby’s right there,” Eddie muses, gently pressing his palm against your stomach. There are a few moments where both of your hands explore the area of the body that will be growing the most over your pregnancy. Eventually, Eddie tugs you in closer to him so your chests are pressed together. He dips his head and captures your lips with his own.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby daddy.”

Keeping your pregnancy under wraps until the second trimester was easier said than done, especially around the boys. Your morning sickness was enough to draw suspicion, and while Luke was satisfied with the reassurance that you hadn’t contracted scurvy, Ryan wasn’t as easily swayed. You’d been tempted to let him in on the secret just to ease his worries, but your own anxieties about first trimester complications took over. 

Now a few days into your twelfth week of pregnancy—with a prenatal scan under your belt—you’re ready to share the news. 

“Luke! Ryan! Come to the living room for a sec!”

The boys nervously trudge onto the carpet. Ryan’s twiddling his thumbs, and before you can reassure them that they’re not in trouble, he blurts out, “It was Luke’s idea to flush the remote down the toilet!”

Luke gasps, blindsided by his brother’s betrayal. “You said it could be a science ‘speriment!”

“Boys…” you start, already feeling a headache brewing behind your eyes. 

“Hang on, babe, I wanna hear this,” Eddie interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches his sons implicate themselves. 

“And then Ryan told me that if I ate apple seeds, a tree would grow in my tummy, and I got scared and that’s why I keep hiding the seeds under my bed,” Luke hurries to explain, cheeks turning pink as he says it all in a single breath. 

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Well, that explains the mystery smell.”

You try to refocus their attention, clearing your throat and sitting up straighter. “Boys…you know how I haven’t been feeling well lately?” You wait for them to nod before continuing. “Why do you think that is?”

“Daddy’s bad at cooking?” Luke ventures, earning a head shake from his dad and a stifled laugh from you. “It is scurvy, isn’t it? I knew it!”

“No one has scurvy! If I hear that word one more time, I’m banning all pirate movies from this house,” Eddie exclaims, obviously eager to reveal the news. 

You put a hand on his knee to silence him. “And I know you’ve noticed I’ve been a little more emotional too.”

“Like when you cried when I made a sandwich the other day?” Ryan asks. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the way you’d been overwhelmed with sadness at the thought of him growing up and independently making lunch.  

You don’t want to start bawling again, so you wordlessly hand over the panel of ultrasound photos. 

“What’s this?” Luke’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He points to your name in the top left corner. “Did you take this? It looks like a weird bean.”

Ryan scoffs at his little brother. “No, it’s one of those pictures that people get when they’re having a baby. Wait…” The oldest Munson son looks up from the paper clutched in his grip to the two of you on the couch in front of him. His wide-eyed expression has you giggling and a warm tingling sensation bubbles up in Eddie’s chest.

Luke is still confused, however. He keeps staring at the black and white image as if he’s trying to find Waldo. 

“Whose baby is it?” he asks.

“Mine and your dad’s, silly goose!” You lean forward and lightly dig your fingers just above the little boy’s hip—his most ticklish spot.

“You guys ready for another brother or sister?” Eddie asks.

His father’s words have Ryan breaking out of his trance. He launches forward and wraps one arm around your neck and one around Eddie’s. Both of you can sense that he’s too emotional to speak, so Eddie just pats his back while you rest your head against his.

“Yeah!” Luke answers Eddie’s question. “I’m gonna bring them to my basketball game on Friday!”

“Um,” you say with a chuckle as Ryan maneuvers himself to sit on the arm of the couch next to Eddie. “The baby’s gonna need a little more time than that, sweetie.”

Luke shrugs as if this is only a minor inconvenience. “‘S’okay. I have another game next week.”

“When is the baby gonna be here?” Ryan asks, dimples out and on display as a sign of his excitement. He still has the ultrasound photos in his hand and keeps sneaking peeks at them.

“The doctor said I’m due October 7th,” you tell them as you rest one hand against your belly. There’s hardly a bump yet, but the instinct has been strong to protect the baby in you. It was a conscious effort to not draw any attention to your midsection by holding it in front of the boys—though you doubt they would’ve noticed anyway. 

“Aw, man!” Luke pouts, dramatically flopping down onto the living room carpet. “That’s forever.”

“Don’t worry, bud,” Eddie says as he slips an arm around you. “We have lots to do to get ready for a new baby.”

“Yeah,” you agree, snuggling into your husband’s side. “You have to learn how to change a diaper!”

That has Luke pushing himself off of the floor and heading for the kitchen. “Nope, I’m out.”

“Okay,” you say to the boys as the sound of Wayne’s dilapidated truck chugs into your driveway. “Grandpa’s here.”

“Remember,” Eddie says, ducking in towards them and lowering his voice as if Wayne would be able to hear him from outside, “we’re gonna act nonchalant.”

Ryan frowns, looking up from where he was smoothing down his blue t-shirt that has the words BIG BRO emblazoned on it in bold black letters. 

“We’re gonna act no-chocolate? What?” 

Eddie shakes his head, fighting back a smile. “Just means we’re gonna act cool, okay? Calm. Natural, like this is just another Sunday he’s coming over to have dinner.

“And not like we have the most awesome secret to tell him!” Luke projects his voice around the small kitchen and both you and Ryan shush him. The youngest Munson—as of now—pinches up his face and sticks his tongue out before looking down at his own t-shirt. It’s green and has MIDDLE BRO splayed across the front of it. 

There’s a knock on the front door and Eddie goes to answer it. Ryan is bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. He’s constantly had to stop himself from telling every single person he talks to about the baby. It warms your heart to see the pure joy this is giving him, though. 

The groaning of the front door opening and the thud of it closing again lets you know Wayne’s inside the house. Two heavy treads make their way into the living room, and you hear Wayne release a content sigh as he takes a seat. 

“Where my boys at?” Wayne asks.

In the kitchen, you give both of your sons a thumbs up before nodding your head in the direction of the living room. Excitement—and hormones—well up in you as you watch the boys leave the kitchen. You trail behind them, eager to see Wayne’s reaction to the news. 

“Grandpa!” Ryan crashes against him on the couch and inhales the familiar scents of menthol cigarettes and oil stains as he buries his face in his neck. 

“How’s my Ry?” Wayne asks, hugging his grandson with one arm and ruffling his honey brown hair with the other. 

“Hey Grandpa!” Luke calls. “What do you think of my shirt?”

Eddie groans and drops his head into his hands. He has to remember to have a conversation with Luke about what “nonchalant” means. Stepping over to your husband, you pat his shoulder while you fight a smirk on your face. 

It doesn’t seem to click with Wayne right away, though. He sits back on the couch and his brows furrow together in confusion. 

“Middle?” he says, wagging his finger in front of Luke’s shirt. “But you don’t have a…” Wayne drops his hand back down to his lap, mouth hanging open. His eyes go from Luke’s t-shirt to Ryan’s, seeing if his clothes are sending the same message. When his suspicions seem to be confirmed at what he sees there, Wayne’s eyes roam over to where you and Eddie are. His eyes are misted over, and it takes everything in you not to let the hormones breach the floodgate. 

“Is there gonna be another Munson to chase after?” Wayne asks, the emotion causing his voice to waver. 

Both you and Eddie nod in confirmation, matching grins on your faces. But neither of you gets a chance to speak before Luke pipes in.

“Yeah, but not ‘til October. And that’s so far away!” Luke throws his arms in the air to show his exasperation. 

Wayne stands up from the couch and immediately envelops Eddie in a giant bear hug.  “I am over the moon for the two of ya,” Wayne says, opening his arms to you. “Congratulations.” Luke tugs on Eddie’s arm as Wayne wraps you up in his warm and fatherly embrace. 

“Is that gonna hurt the baby?” Luke asks, eyeing the show of affection with hesitancy. Eddie swears he could melt right here and now at the concerned look on his youngest son’s face—concern for you and your new baby. 

Eddie has to clear the emotion out of his throat before he speaks. “Nah, bud. Baby’s nice and protected in there, don’t worry.” 

“Yeah,” Ryan seconds as he steps up beside his dad and brother. “You just have to be careful once they’re born. Don’t wanna drop them on their head like Dad did to you.”

“Ryan,” Eddie starts, but needs a moment to reign in the laughter that wants to come exploding out. “That’s not funny and it’s not true!”

Wayne huffs a small laugh and speaks softly so only you can hear.

“You know, Eddie was dropped when he was a baby…”

You stifle a laugh as you look over at your husband. He’s jumping around the middle of the living room with the boys, the three of them fighting like they’re ninjas. 

“That explains a lot.”

The last group of people you’ve been waiting to tell is the Harrington family. 

Your shirt is a bit oversized; there’s no evidence of a bump just yet, but you’re still paranoid about showing. 

Danny, Theo, and Natalie burst into the room, excited that Ryan and Luke are there to play with. Steve shushes them softly.

“Amelia is asleep,” he reminds them.

“Pretty sure she’ll sense that I’ve come over and awaken from her slumber,” Eddie jokes, causing Steve to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, Munson, she almost wet herself in excitement when we told her you were coming by.”

“Really?” Eddie asks.

“No.”

“I don’t like your attitude, Harrington. Think I’ll just head down the hall and wake up my favorite four-year-old.”

“I will tackle you before you reach the bathroom,” Steve threatens. 

Natalie rolls her eyes—looking identical to her father as she does so—and puts her hands on her hips.

“Boys,” she complains. 

The Harrington kids drag Luke, Ryan, and Eddie into the playroom to show them their new video game. Steve dutifully follows, claiming that he’ll supervise gameplay, but you and Nancy both know that the day will end with the grown men battling it out over Mario Kart. 

“You’re pregnant!” Nancy excitedly whispers as soon as the two of you are alone. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and it catches you off-guard. 

“What?” You’re not sure whether you should play dumb or not—the reason for this playdate was to tell them the news. “How did…how do you know that?”

She shrugs. “I’ve gone through this four times. I have a sixth sense for it now.” She’s beaming from ear to ear as her reporter instincts kick in and she begins launching questions your way:

“How far along are you?”

“Any morning sickness?”

“What other symptoms are you having?”

You answer them one by one, excitement pulsing through you with each reply. There’s beauty in being able to enjoy this journey with others, especially someone who’s been through it before. 

You take a deep breath, finally relaxed now that the nervous energy has dissipated. “Okay,” you smile, “now we can tell Steve.”

“Munson told me before the pee stick could dry,” Steve calls out from the other room. There’s a whine from Danny, to which Steve responds, “no, it’s my turn to be Bowser!”

Nancy can sense your flusteredness, and she puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she says with a laugh, “Steve called Eddie first with each of my pregnancies. He probably knew before I did.”

You giggle at the thought of Steve tripping over his feet to let Eddie know about a new baby before even celebrating with his wife. “I’m so glad I’m not dealing with the two of them on my own.”

“Us mamas have to stick together.” She reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water. “First tip: no matter how much water you’re drinking, it’s never enough. Gotta stay hydrated.”

“You and Max might be my lifelines for motherly advice,” you admit, cracking open the cap and taking a swig. Nancy, of course, is right; you hadn’t realized how thirsty you were until you started drinking it. 

“You already have plenty of experience.” She gestures to the room where the kids are. “They adore you, and your baby will, too.”

“You think so?”

“Call it mother’s intuition, but I know it.”

[andmaybegayer]

For a different project I was reading about developments in induction heating technologies and realized I had a small misunderstanding about how induction stoves work.

So, the classic misunderstanding is in why steel works on an induction hob but aluminium doesn't. Most people assume this is because you need a magnetic material in order to induce a current, but if you know your physics you know this isn't true. You can induce a current in any conductor, and indeed inducing currents in aluminium is something that happens in industry all the time.

So then you get to my understanding of why you can't use aluminium and copper, which is that they're too good at conducting electricity. Induction generates a voltage that pushes a current through the material. Aluminium and copper are much better conductors than steel, so the generated potential is lower and the overall current is lower as a result of material interactions with the field, so you don't get nearly as much heat out of induction on aluminium as on steel. This was what I thought. This is also wrong, although it's closer.

The actual answer is one step deeper. Induction hobs have to operate at pretty high frequencies, usually 24-ish kHz, both for audible noise reasons and, crucially, because they rely heavily on the skin effect. Interestingly this makes that first wrong explanation kind of more correct, I'll get to that in a moment.

The skin effect is a thing that happens when you have an alternating current in a bulk material; the AC signal sets up magnetic fields that force current to flow in a thin layer closer to the surface of the solid rather than flowing evenly throughout the material. This increases the effective resistance of the material, since you end up with a reduced effective surface area through which current can flow. The skin effect gets more pronounced at higher frequencies, and it's part of why you'll see bundles of smaller cables used to conduct high power AC: each cable has its own skin that can carry more current than the same quantity of material in one bulk cable.

In the right kinds of steel and iron, 24kHz is enough to generate a current carrying skin only a few tenths of a millimeter thick, which has a high enough resistance to generate the heat needed for cooking. Ferromagnetic materials have very high magnetic permeability, which causes them to experience much stronger skin effects. Copper and aluminium, between their high conductivity and lower magnetic permeability, have much weaker skin effects, their skins at 24kHz are much thicker, and so you just can't kick up enough resistance to the current to generate heat, it just spins around in there getting kind of warm but you'd have a hard time actually cooking with it. Indeed, non-magnetic stainless steel also won't work on induction hobs, because it also has a much thicker skin effect.

So you have the "real answer" being a fun hybrid of the two incorrect explanations.

The main side effects I take away from this are twofold.

1) you can absolutely make an induction hob that will heat copper and aluminum and non-magnetic stainless steels, you just need a high enough frequency to generate a strong enough skin effect to generate heat. Panasonic makes one that uses 60+kHz induction under the brand "Met-all".

2) if you physically constrain the current by having a really thin piece of metal, you can induction heat it anyway. When I read this, I stopped, took out a piece of aluminium foil, and stuck it on my induction cooktop. It almost immediately got incredibly hot and I pulled it away before anything bad happened. Turns out you could definitely melt and maybe even vaporize aluminium this way. So don't do that. Apparently people do this with lightweight titanium cookware too, which would not be able to sustain the necessary currents in a large bulk solid but can if you thin the base of the pan out enough.