#tlou mini series

[nowinterss]

joel miller drabble (p2)

The clicker had been two inches from digging into the fucking meat of your shoulder, as Joel so kindly reminds you every few minutes.

The air between the two of you is stale inside your run down apartment, but you can feel Joel’s irritation kick up every so often. The incessant tapping of his boots against the patchy linoleum isn’t as quiet as he thinks it is. Cheeky bastard.

“You know, it really wasn’t that bad-“

“If you finish that sentence, I swear…” he drifts off, leaning over in the kitchen chair and resting his forehead into calloused hands on the matching table. His boot, caked in dried mud and speckled with blood from your undead assailant, taps aimlessly against the floor still.

“I’ll rip your fucking foot off, Miller.” You snap, slamming the cooler closed after you yank free a water soaked bottle of whiskey. An ice run would be necessary tomorrow.

He stops the tapping, thankfully, but levels you with a heated glare.

“You could’ve died tonight,” he growls.

“Could die tomorrow,” you sigh, worrying at your bottom lip while you twist the top off the bottle, “thing is, Joel, I didn’t fucking die.”

Now you’ve done it. He drops his hands from his face with a deep chuckle, sounding damn near sinister. Anybody else would be frightened by the display, but you’re the cat that got the cream, stomach heating up and coiling tight in anticipation.

He rests his hands, big and rough and begging to be on you, on his thighs, “that so?” He asks, it’s a trap, of course. Everything’s a trap between you and Joel Miller. It’s just hard to tell who the victim is sometimes.

You take a deep pull from the whiskey, hissing as it makes its way down your throat. Liquid courage, there’s nothing like it.

You step closer to Joel, watch the amusement spark in eyes before it shifts to a heated want.

“Wanna check, cowboy? See if I’m still breathing? If my heart’s still tickin’?”

Joel’s eyes heat once more, and you can just barely make out the slight twitch in his faded blue jeans. The muscle beyond the fabric is taut, presses so sinfully against the material you’re practically salivating and seeing stars already…

“Give me that,” he orders when you’re close enough, pulling you onto his lap and the whiskey from your hands in one fluid movement.

You settle automatically, relishing in the feel of him against you as you lean your head into the crook of his neck. You drink in the sight of his adam’s apple bobbing along the length of his throat while he works at the bottle, his swallowing loud against the shell of your ear.

“You done bein’ a brat?” He asks, “or is this what we’re doin’ tonight?”

You grin against his throat, run your teeth and tongue against the slight stubble and flush red at the low rumble that sounds in his chest, “m’always a brat, Miller. But if you want me to stop,” you whisper, pressing yourself flush against the aching hardness in his jeans, “by all means, tell me to stop…”

“Gonna send me to an early grave, sweetheart,” he groans, setting the whiskey firmly on the table and hoisting you up into his arms, “let’s go, see if we can’t get your heart tickin’ some more.”

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #tlou smut #the last of us drabble #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou mini series #tlou drabble #tlou series #tlou x reader #the last of us smut

[sapphicvalentines]

☆Baby, the stars shine bright☆pt1

pt1, pt2, pt3

inspired by the 'kamikaze girls',♡ always had unconditional love for lolita fashion and nothing else but when she met ellie,an auburn haired girl whos part of a gang with a dad's fashion sense ,her love for clothes begins to compete with her growing feelings for ellie

strangers to friends to lovers,love-hate friendship,ellie is into reader♡ but reader♡ shows no interest (in the beginning),opposite aesthetics,early 2000s

fluff,wlw

Frilly pink dresses,strawberry cakes,sunny days,classical music and tea times made you the happiest being alive but again,your happiness only relied on external things because deep inside you felt rotten. But at least it was better than feeling totally empty right?

Everytime you felt horrible about yourself you'd think of your parents. 

Your dad was rejected by his gang because he could never hold a gun properly (he would cry in vain after shooting someone) and your mother heartlessly cheated on your dad with her gynecologist right after you were born.

Your mom had crossed boundaries and you assumed it was hereditary when you started to gaslight your dad for money so you could build your dream closet.

"My best friend is in the terminal stage of this very rare, deadly disease."

You looked away, pretending to drop tears, not just because of the act but also because guilt was slowly enveloping you. You continued with your fake emotional tone, "She's so young, but she looks so tired and sick. Fortunately, the doctors found a cure."

This statement made your father stop crying and cover his mouth in surprise. He believed every single word coming out of your mouth.

"And they have to perform a surgery that will cost-" It was like a reflex; your dad burst into tears again before handing you 2000 bucks. It wasn't to save your imaginary friend from the disease but to fuel your will to live. You covered your smile with your hand before taking the money and thanking your dad, already imagining the kind of dress you would buy.

The next day, you woke up before your alarm went off, not wasting a second to go to your favorite place.

You walked all the way from home, which was in the middle of nowhere in the countryside, to the train station.

You wished you lived in Tokyo because then you wouldn't have to add the cost of the train ticket to your expenses, allowing you to spend all your money on dresses. But going there once every month prevented you from emptying your wallet every day, so it wasn't all bad.

Relief hit you when you arrived at the train station early. You took a seat, but then you heard people screaming and arguing from afar.

It was your dad doing his 'new' job after leaving his gang. You thought you were good at gaslighting him, but he was certainly better. He was selling fake luxury brand clothes to a group of oblivious people, arguing with him to get a 90% discount. No matter how stubborn you are, you don't think you could ever fool an entire group of people. It made you wonder how your dad believed all of your made-up stories in the first place.

Little did you know, the dress you bought that day would be the last one you bought with your father's money. Karma got both you and your father, almost bankrupting him. The old gang your father was in denounced his actions, leaving him with no job and no money to fund your wardrobe.

When you looked at the fake luxury clothes in your hands, you wondered how people even fell for this. It was just basic white t-shirts with a brand name; not even your alter ego could like this.

But to your biggest surprise, the scam your father had pulled off hadn't reached everyone's ears. Luckily, you soon received a letter that looked like it was written by an 8-year-old:

"Hi, I saw your big tracksuits when I was walking by the city, but there were too many people buying everything. I was wondering if you still have some left for me. Wait for me at your house at 8 am."

And so you did. You stood at your front door, waiting for the child to arrive. You convinced your father to keep his fake clothes for whatever reason, so you could continue what he was doing in secret.

All you had to do was sell fake luxury clothes to afford your dream ones. With no gang to ever snitch on you, you could set your own prices and stop depending on your dad's money.

You spotted a motocycle and squinted your eyes when the person riding drove towards your home

Was it one of the childs parents ?

The person drove closer blowing some dust before parking their motocycle next to your home, they didnt even wear a helmet for security

You realised she was a girl when the dust disappeared but she didnt look like a mother at all

You didnt realise you were staring that long until the auburn girl came up to you and told you to stop

"hey, I told you im looking for the seller where is he ?" her deep commanding voice made you remind the letter, it wasnt an actual child's writing,she was just writing like a child !

"he's not here, but I'm taking his role," the auburn girl said, looking you up and down inspecting your elegant lolita dress.She was blocking the sun, so you couldn't clearly see her facial features.

"are you messing with me?" You could see her features better when her face got closer to yours, attempting to intimidate you. She didn't believe in you, even though she had no idea those clothes were fake. She turned her face away to spit on the ground, and you noticed golden writing on her large jacket's sleeve.

This girl was definitely part of a gang, you thought.

"stop spitting," you retorted in disagreement with her behavior. It was obvious she was doing all this to let people know she's not playing around, but still...

She raised an eyebrow at you, a bit surprised. But before she could do or say anything, you carelessly opened the front door of your home, which was about to turn into a place of business.

#ellie williams #ellie fluff #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #mini series #Spotify

[writerreal]

writerreal's masterlist

fandoms: 

a/n: hello! i’ve been here on tumblr before, as a fanfiction writer (a couple of years ago), and i was all over the place with my style/prose and in-between a bunch of fandoms. i haven’t actually written anything in a long time so i might be a bit rusty, but i’m extremely excited to get back into the routine of answering asks and coming up with amazing stories for you guys. 

marvel

shazam!

doctor who 

supernatural 

the office 

the last of us (hbo)

hogwarts legacy

stranger things

teen wolf

things i’m not comfortable writing:

incest, rape, cheating, etc. (you might be able to talk me into other dark content, but these are definitely a no-no)

graphic smut; slight suggestions are completely okay, but other than that, i won’t feel comfortable writing it. 

if i think of anything else, i will add it here or - if requested - will tell you straightforward. 

important: 

just because you request something, doesn’t mean i will write it. i have the right to decline; please stay respectful. 

i would prefer we stay on the topic of writing. i am uncomfortable with the talk of politics; basically don’t ask my opinion on anything that’s not related to writing/fandoms, but i will gladly try my best on giving out writing advice. 

i am very protective of my mental health and i have no issue with keeping a safe distance with others that cross boundaries. 

i write m/f, f/f.

open to using you/your povs as well as third person pov and first person pov. 

gender neutral reader and female reader only. 

this blog is lgbtqia friendly and you will be safe here. 

suggestions: 

i do take suggestions on the fandoms I write for, so if you’re ever wanting to gush about a certain fanfic, please share. 

promoting:

i welcome promoting/self-promoting fanfics / original stories with open arms. 

with love, 

writerreal

#marvel #doctor who #the last of us #tlou #mcu #dw #the office #teen wolf #stranger things #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #blurbs #imagines #drabbles #one shots #mini-series #writing #creative writing #fanfiction writer #writerblr #writing prompts #writerreal #dc #shazam

[bugichor]

white lillies - dbf!joel mini-series

pairing: Joel Miller x Reader, Joel miller x You. word count: First chapter is just above 1k, it's just a taster as i get back into writing. Second part will be longer and fuller. summary: As his old best friend, Joel Miller comforts you at your late father's funeral. But comfort isn't the only thing on your mind… tags and warnings: dbf!joel; pre-outbreak!joel; age difference; pet names; mentions of death and grief; alcohol and tobacco use.

white lillies - chapter one

minors, please dni. this will be a very explicit work.

i also have a twitter where i'd love to interact with other pedro pascal and tlou stans. hmu.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fiction #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #ao3 #my writing #writing

[polaroidpascal]

hello and welcome to my masterlist !!

warning : most of these works are 18+ key : 🔥 - smut || 💖 - fluff || 🌧️ - angst read on ao3

fics are divided by characters and then by type !!

** the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the plot of tlou2 is based on the israeli occupation of palestine. i have included helpful links at the start of each fic and will include these resources here as well. i also have another link in my bio. this blog stands with palestine. **

mini-series

lunch box - joel miller x f!reader || 🔥💖

summary : you decide to make joel's lunch for work not realizing the day’s worth of... activity that follows (or: domestic life with joel “man whore” miller)

** can all pretty much be read standalone, although each one follows the events of the last. but it’s pretty much just porn with minimal plot 🫠 **

part 1 - lunch box || 🔥💖 || WC : 2.7k

part 2 - appetizer || 🔥💖 || WC : 2.6k

part 3 - coming soon… || 🔥💖

one shots

paradise city - guitarist!joel x f!reader || 🔥💖

summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd. WC : 7.9k fic playlist : https://spotify.link/ygrjpzupOHb

one shots

valentine's day - frankie morales x f!reader || 🔥💖

summary : you and frankie’s anniversary just happens to be on valentine’s day. even though you have to work, frankie makes sure everything is set up to go perfectly when you come home. WC : 6k

girl's night out - frankie morales x f!reader || 🔥💖

summary : after spending a night out for your friend’s birthday, you try to sneak back into the house without disturbing frankie. you thought he was a heavy sleeper, but your mischievous boyfriend never fails to surprise you. WC : ~3k

let me - frankie morales x f!reader || 💖

summary : after two weeks of frankie coming home knocking on death’s door from exhaustion, you decide to give him a break. WC : ~1.8k

one shots

the best critic - javi gutierrez x f!reader || 🔥💖

summary : when a nervous javi asks you to read his screenplay for the first time ever, you learn just how much praise affects him and how much he likes to express his gratitude. WC : 3.2k

series

coming soon… - dieter bravo x f!reader || 🔥💖🌧️

summary : coming soon…

#masterlist #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez fanfiction #javi gutierrez smut

[trulybetty]

Sunday Week In Review on a Monday

How is everyone doing? Did we make it through the last week? Those who got a long weekend I hope it was a good one! Yesterday was a clusterfuck and I had the mother of all naps - the type where you wake up and don't know where you are let alone what day of the week it is lol.

So here is Sunday's Week in Review, on a Monday edition! 💕

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

Strings IV

Sequins

First Sentence Game

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

A Girl Walks Into a Bookstore (Ezra) by @oonajaeadira

While I’m still undecided if I truly enjoy Prospect, I absolutely do love a good Ezra fanfic and this one doesn’t disappoint. It started as a late-night read last Sunday when I was the only one awake and once I started I couldn’t stop. It also seems to have popped up for a lot of other readers as I’ve seen it all over my dash since. @oonajaeadira master list is a joy to go through on Sundays at the moment. 

Until Now, Until You | Chapter 1 (Javier Peña) by @wildemaven

This was all the right levels of sexy and spicy and leaving you wanting more and I can’t wait to see how this plays out when the two run into one another again!

Leave off Your Wanderings (Joel Miller) by @oonajaeadira

This series is a total balm to my TLOU2 feels - this is the ending Joel deserved (and in my mind the official sequel to TLOU) and in the third instalment the autumn vibes are warm and cozy, and the build-up between Joel and Songbird is soft in all the right places. This whole series is a warm gentle hug and the writing is so good - definitely check this one out.

Hungry Hearts | Atlantic City (Joel Miller) by @atinylittlepain

I’m sad that this series is nearing its end, but that means I get to go back and read it again. Between flashbacks of young Joel with baby Sarah we’ve got Cherry and Joel reconciling in present day and never knew mini-vans could be so sexy, so check it out!

The Layover | Epilogue (Frankie Morales) by @goodwithcheese

This finale was bittersweet - it has been such a pleasure to follow this story, so much so that it was a highlight of my week. The story wraps up in a way that is perfect for reader x Frankie with them both on pace with one another. It’s done so perfectly that I read it more than once. I will be revisiting this story for sure.

Late Night Texts | Epilogue (Javier Peña) by @mvtthewmurdvck

Another fantastic story that came to a close this week *sigh*, this was just  the perfect ending. This story is a delicious rom com romp and I know will hold up to multiple reads. I don’t want to give anything away if you’ve not read it, but it’s a delight.

The Window (Dave York) by @wildemaven

This was a delight to read and Heidi crafts a great story of longing from a distance that has a soft ending that is all enveloping and lends itself to multiple reads. 

Bush Pilot (Frankie Morales) by @legendary-pink-dot

Oh boy, this one *fans self* this one was something else. Frankie taking you to see the sunrise but makes you see stars instead in the back of his truck. Oomph, all kinds of good spicy smut here that lends itself to a second read… or three ;) 

sam and diane, eat your heart out (Marcus Pike) by @chronically-ghosted

I could easily be biased as this was written based on the prompts I sent Taylor - however, Taylor blew it out of the park with our boy Marcus! This was spicy in all the right places and honestly, I would love to see more of these two. This is a take on Marcus Pike x Reader that I haven’t seen before and it will be on my perma reread list that is for sure! Also, peep the Cheers reference, *squee*

IRL | Part 2 (Javi Gutierrez)  by @grogusmum

I’ve had a hard time finding some good Javi G. fanfics, but this one here is so good in its characterization. The story of Javi meeting Reader for the first time since meeting online, is incredibly sweet and I had been waiting in anticipation for this second chapter since I finished the first. It’s also one of the few plus sized reader fanfics that nails it without going over the top and making the character a stereotype. I have this bookmarked to go back and re-read this week, because that ending has been living rent free in my head all week.

Private Dick (Tim Rockford) by @wardenparker

Speaking of plus size reader interpretations - this was one of the few that really resonated with me. I haven’t come across many Tim Rockford fanfics (if you have any others, please send them my way) - but this felt like a perfect interpretation - great at reading situations, until they’re too close to him, but he’s in a process of redeeming himself through his relationship with Reader.

Fics I’m Looking Forward to Reading…

My TBR List is still a work in progress, will share it when it’s done 💕

Light Me Up (Benny Miller) by @musings-of-a-rose

Thanks to Jess and Heidi I seem to be straying into Benny territory this week and have been recommended this story to dip my toe further in. I mean the opening premise alone is enough to have me excited to get stuck in!

Double Dealings (Javier Peña & Ezra) by @julesonrecord & @stardustandskycrystals

1920’s, New Orleans and the potential of two Pedro characters? I cannot wait to get stuck into this one this week over my morning coffee this week!

Posts I Enjoyed This Week…

@shirks-all-responsibilities reminding me of my grumpy Joel (Pedro) header for the mobile layout of my blog. Now has me thinking about making a seasonal one now! September is Halloween Eve of course! 🎃

@wildemaven’s early morning thot post that just took on a life of it’s own 🥵

@rhool’s live blog of the pilot of the Pedro show that never was ‘The Sixth Gun’ entertained me while I had a tame evening watching something Mr. Truly wanted to watch while sipping on a non-alcoholic beer lol.

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week…

The long weekend - didn’t do anything, no one slept through the night, but there’s something satisfying waking up on a Monday and knowing you don’t have to work.

Saturday’s interactions and posts were a delight to go through and helped my Saturday working go by so much quicker and made for a more enjoyable day.

This Week’s Song…

This recommendation came from @gnpwdrnwhiskey who told me it was Dieter x Bryony coded and it totally is. I’ve listened to this on repeat and I’m dying to revisit these two again, and have something up my sleeve 🎃

Hope everyone has a great week this week and Monday is treating you well! 💕 xx

#betty's sunday in review #Spotify

[vanillabourbon]

the first of many. | intro | ongoing tlou series

story summary. joel arrives at Jackson twenty years after the outbreak with a young girl that cares for him just as much as he cares for her. little did he know, he would soon meet someone else that would urge his returning sense of humanity one step further.

introductory chapter warnings. weaponry. alludes to suicidal thoughts and behavior. mentions of blood and violence. wounds. kinda sad ngl but let’s call it canon. pls let me know if i missed anything.

story pairings. joel miller x reader, tommy miller x platonic!reader

words. 11k (i went a bit overboard, hehe, but editing is going slow so pls ignore any obvious mistakes. this is the first work i’ve taken seriously so please enjoy :))

-

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

The mind and the body’s initial response is always denial – denial of things, of circumstances, and of situations that are too radical, too unconventional, to believe.

How could anyone believe the events of things as they were? Social and societal constructs had been dismantled in a matter of hours, as if the very fabric of everyone’s being had been tied together by a mere string. The justice and sovereignty in belief, in trust in the nature of things themselves, was apparently so fickle, so haphazardly constructed in the first place, that it took a rapidly spreading infection to displace and make known just how unsafe anything is from harm.

No one should be shocked, really. Least of all you.

In hindsight, which is the only perspective anyone can rely on at a moment’s notice, everything gave way to regret and humiliation. How had no one seen this coming? Everything up until that point in time suddenly seemed so obvious – so commonsensical. It was as if someone had balled up every bad thing and every imperfect thing until it could no longer withstand its own constraints and, instead, chose to flow directly toward the seemingly permanent. 

There’s always an element of impermanence in the seemingly permanent.

For whatever reason, now, only a day had passed since the events that led to an abrupt collapse in society as you knew it. You wanted to believe the best – that society and the nature of man would prevent anything from happening. You trusted that the condition of humanity would never outweigh the moral weight of integrity and righteousness. You told yourself that the militant responses of the government were out of necessity and that order and control would fall soon after – or, at least, eventually.

Whether you truly believed that or not no longer mattered.

You were being ushered through the city of Chicago by your older brother, trailing after your uncle, aunt, and two cousins in the wake of another riot. It was dark, darker than any time you had ever stepped foot through the streets of Chicago. And it was bare. Every skitter and harsh knock of a tin trash can sent your brother’s nerves into overdrive; his fingers dug into the flesh of your forearm, dragging you beside him with every step he took. His vice-like grip pained you, but you didn’t bother to tell him that.

You did exactly what he had instructed you before: keep quiet and avoid eye contact.

Military brigades sat empty in the torn and destroyed city streets. Fires engulfed and illuminated countless buildings – convenience stores, pharmacies, mini marts, miscellaneous retail stores. For a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a young boy, no older than your small cousins, ducking behind a fire hydrant. Tiny fingers braced against the stained red paint, gripping the rusted bolts as if a life depended on it. Maybe it did. But the boy was gone when you chanced a look back.

“Eyes forward,” your brother mumbled.

You didn’t bother to argue. You were far too consumed with wandering, catching stray remnants of the world around you in your peripheral. Anything and everything surrounding you seemed too fantastical, like a stupor you were unable to shake yourself from. The tall, familiar skyscrapers were in stark contrast to the now empty storefronts and abandoned vehicles.

Even though it felt like the end of something, it seemed like the start of something else. Of what, you didn’t know.

Regardless, you wanted to make no effort to distract or distress your brother any further. You’d never seen him so laser-focused, so adamant about one thing, in your life. It was clear that safety was his top priority, and the thought sent your mind and your heart reeling. 

Even if your brother hadn’t been dragging you toward Lawrence Avenue, you felt that your feet would have been bumbling about of their own accord. You were sure they weren’t moving because of anything you were doing. Your mind was elsewhere, eyes flitting to and from every glimpse of dark corners and shattered glass you dared to witness. Surprisingly, it wasn’t fear bubbling up and threatening to overtake your every sense; it was surprise, perhaps confusion. 

Your gaze would’ve gotten lost down a dark side road as you were marched by it, but you were torn from your daze. A slight stumble, the slip of a toddler’s foot, caught everyone by surprise. One of your cousins rested in an awkward heap a few feet in front of you, ground having scraped her knee and stray debris nearly slicing her palm as she braced herself. Among stray tires and pieces of burnt wood, she looked so small, so petite. Her face twisted in pain and sadness as she turned about, first to you and your brother as you approached then to her parents only a few steps away.

Without missing a beat, your uncle ushered your aunt forward, pushing her lower back and guiding her to keep going. He did the same with his young son before going back and reaching down, scooping up his daughter from where she lay on the pavement with one hand and reassuring her with the other.

Momentarily, his eyes flitted toward you and your brother. It was the first time he had turned to look at either of you since you started your trek. For a moment, you wondered if he was about to say something. 

But he didn’t. He only locked eyes for a second, maybe longer, before he was turning on his heels and picking up his pace to a light jog.

Only minutes had gone by before your family’s pounding footsteps were quieted by shouts and gunfire. A frighteningly sudden halt came when you all jolted to a stop. If things were still, you would’ve been gracious for the moment to rest your feet, for the chance to catch your breath and rock back on your heels to ease the pain from your soles. The act of running was starting to take its toll – stripping and coercing your composure and relief from their rightful place.

Calm felt so far removed. Even more so when the gunfire ceased and a loud, nearly automated voice came over a distant speaker: “ALL REMAINING CIVILIANS MUST REPORT TO ONE OF TWO EMERGENCY MEDICAL CAMPS.”

A tan army vehicle passed by your group just then. It rolled passed, and you all did a poor attempt at ducking into the shadows. Your brother’s grip tightened, if that were even possible, and dragged you to his side. Your breath caught in your throat until the back tire of the vehicle disappeared from sight, rolling down the road and toward the loud din still protruding from two streets over.

Whoever was among the shouting didn’t matter. It was clear that there were a lot of them, and that scared you. The streets had seemed so empty, so shallow. For a moment, you could pretend like your family was all that was left, that you all would make it to your aunt and uncle’s vehicle you’d left at airport parking. Maybe drive until you found a place safe enough to sleep. Wake to a world not burnt and bruised on every side.

It was a good dream. A pipe dream, perhaps, but a good one.

Your uncle was the first to move. He wrapped his arms around your aunt and cousins, driving them down a side street a few feet away. Your brother, a slight wild look in his eye, chanced a look around. For a split moment, he looked as if he was going to grab your wrist and keep running, chance a run-in with the military or with a group of people just as scared as the two of you. But he didn’t. He let out a low huff and dragged you toward the same side street.

Your aunt was huddled a few feet away, partially occluded by shadow and rocking one of your cousins in her arms. She was crouched, whispering, or pleading, something in a low voice. It was almost unnerving to watch her come undone.

Your gaze was torn from the sight when your uncle grunted. He was crouched right beside you, tying your other cousin’s shoes. Your cousin’s small hands were splayed across his back as she tried to balance herself.

“Danny boy, you’re with me,” he finally said. He looked over his shoulder and up at your brother. “We’ll run the rest of the way. It’s just a few blocks.”

You furrowed your brow, stepping forward quickly. Danny’s hand was still locked around your arm, but he made no move to stop you nor speak for himself. “Wait, what?”

Your uncle turned his attention back to the small white strings in his hands, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the small shoelaces. “I know we said we’d get the car checked, but it should run just fine. We’ll come back for them in five minutes, tops.” His head was nodding before he even finished his sentence. “Yeah, yeah. Five minutes. Tops.”

“You can’t be serious.” Since he made no effort to acknowledge you, or to look at either of you again, you turned to your brother. “Is he serious?”

Danny was chewing on his bottom lip then, staring down at your uncle with eyes that did not seem in the least bit alarmed. “You sure about the car?”

“Positive.”

“It’ll run?”

“Should.”

At that point, your chest started to heave. Slightly, but heave all the same. A thickness suddenly but slowly started to coat your throat, like someone had lodged a softball right between your esophagus and windpipe.

Danny might’ve been calling your name, but, if he was, you couldn’t hear him. In seconds, he was dragging you backwards until you were pressed into the wall of the closest building. It was some worn-down bar. Your shoulders dug into the brick. “You have to stay here. Okay? With Aunt Lorraine and the twins.”

And that did it – that truly jolted you. “No,” you protested, hands coming up to grip your brother’s forearms. Now it was your turn to dig your fingers into his flesh. Anything to keep him there and grounded, right beside you, where he belonged. “You can’t just leave me.”

“I have to. We can get the car. Skirt downtown and be on our way to Indiana.”

“What about the military?”

“We can get away from them.”

“How?”

“We can.”

“It’s the military,” you deadpanned.

For a moment, you could almost make out a brief glint of humor in his eyes. The side of his mouth perked up, threatening a smirk that always drove you crazy whenever he found hilarity in situations not in the least bit hilarious. But right now, in this moment, it lifted whatever burden was trying to settle like a rock in your chest. Your brother was still your brother. And, to you, he’d never leave you.

“We just can, alright?” He reasoned. “We have to.”

“Well, what happens when we get to Indiana? What if we can’t find a place to stay?”

“You let me worry about that.”

“But, that’s the problem, Danny. You don’t worry about these things.”

You finally broke eye contact then. Pools of tears were beginning to form, blurring your vision and making everything around you swim.

“Well, that’s why I need you, isn’t it? Gives me an incentive to actually come back for you.”

You scoffed, a slight sniffle leaving you as you did. “As if you’d ever leave me behind.”

“Hey, we need to go, kid,” Your uncle said.

Afar off, he had long since stood and was waiting for your brother at the mouth of the street. When you turned toward him, he looked away, chancing a quick look both ways before exiting the shadows entirely. He loitered there, clearly waiting for Danny to join him.

Your brother had completely ignored him, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. “Exactly. That’s why you have to trust me when I say I will come back.”

When you returned his gaze, his eyes were as earnest as you had ever seen them. He was telling you the truth and trying his hardest to make sure you believed him before he took off. You did, of course, but something was making every nerve in your body hot and every hair on your head stand. Something wasn’t right.

“I trust your word, Danny, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.” 

And something told you he didn’t mean himself and your uncle. 

He urged himself forward, pressing a hard kiss to your forehead. He stayed there for a few seconds, crushing you to his chest, before abruptly letting go. He determinedly strode down the street, meeting your uncle on the sidewalk with a firm nod. 

Before he disappeared, he turned once more to you and added, “I’ll see you again.”

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

If Joel could give voice to the crushing weight of a broken heart or the sudden unwillingness to yield to the innate response to keep going, he still wouldn't be able to properly identify it as true sorrow.

He still couldn’t quite pin it – anger, disbelief, pity … guilt. Everything had happened so fast, as they always do. But never to him. Calculations and planning, pure thought – the things he was used to and relied heavily on simply because they worked – were nothing compared to the devastation of unpredictability – of spontaneity, the unexpected. As cruel as fate could be, as cruel as life itself could be, there was very little possibility that it could bring about something like this – to take something so pure, so innocent, as a life. A child’s life.

A life for a life, he determined.

“Swear?” Sara had asked. Long ago now, it felt like. Something about a birthday cake, but the softness in her voice had sent Joel’s heart pumping with love and affection.

“On my life.”

A woman screamed somewhere to his left. His brow twitched, and, for the first time, he became semi-cognizant of his surroundings. A makeshift medical camp was teeming with victims, families, military and doctors alike, swarming and descending around him. White lab coats and camouflage armor were a hazy swirl as frenzied bodies wheeled grocery carts, gurneys, wheelchairs, beds – anything they could find – all through one Austin plaza. 

For one second, one split second, Joel could vividly picture himself and Tommy driving by here on the way to pick up supplies not even two months earlier. He had been laughing, then. Shaking his head at something his brother had said to diffuse his anger for having been late the morning of.

Joel had been clutching a juice box then, too. A ‘good source of vitamin D.’ It felt small and strange in his hand at the time. Foreign. An odd replacement to the coffee usually growing cold in his tired grip. But he had promised her. Even when she threw a smile over her shoulder and clamored out of the truck to bound across her school’s parking lot, he didn’t let the box go until he’d drunk it all. Even when the memory was fading now, lost to a couple of weeks and now permanently overwritten by the last time he’d dropped her off, Joel could still feel the box. 

Small. Strange. Like the last image of her now boring into the backs of his eyelids – curling and uncurling her failing grip in his t-shirt with every gasping breath.

Out of nowhere, a woman screamed again. Not loud enough to startle him from whatever depth he was losing his footing in, but still loud. Loud enough to draw the attention of nearby soldiers, who rapidly trained their weapons toward her. They didn’t shoot. They didn’t stand down either.

The woman was on her knees in the middle of all the chaos. A nurse unknowingly side-stepped a soldier and nearly tripped over the wailing woman. She didn’t notice of course. She just knelt there, rocking and shrieking. It took a moment for Joel to notice the small body she was clutching in her hands. A girl. Straight, dark hair thick and spiraling, down her mother’s lap and nearly sweeping the concrete. Her legs were dangling, bedazzled skechers limp and uncanny. There was a trail of blood leading from a misshapen wound – like indents left from teeth – on the girl’s left calf. 

He looked away.

“Joel.” A voice came. Hardly recognizable. Seconds later, Tommy appeared in front of him, hands gripping his forearms and eyes pleadingly searching Joel’s countenance with growing anxiety.  “Joel, c’mon now. Talk to me, brother. Say something.”

He did say something, though it didn’t quite reach Tommy’s ears. He was muttering, balancing himself on the perch of the old gurney beneath him and rocking himself slightly. 

“On my life,” Joel muttered, continuously, trapped in an earlier memory. An earlier conversation. With the only one who mattered.

“Alright, well,” Tommy started, dropping one hand as he scanned the surrounding area. “We need to get you something to cover that hand.” He turned his attention back to Joel, leaning down and pushing forward to take up Joel’s entire field of vision. “I’ll be back, you hear me? Don’t move.”

He was gone almost as fast as he came. At his words, Joel’s eyes dropped to his hand, the one he’d been unconsciously cradling in his lap. Blood dripped, unceremoniously, down the valley of his palm and onto the cracked pavement under his boots. He vaguely remembered lashing out at some guy before being ushered into the camp. In front of some convenience store. He had landed roughly, shards of glass impaling his skin before Tommy got the chance to haul him up and press him to keep running.

There wasn't a single part of him that felt it, though. The gaping wound – the whole ordeal – seemed like a hallucination, like something plucked from the deepest, most submerged part of his consciousness. Something hardly thinkable. Something vicious and unnerving. Something that simply couldn’t be true.

“Dad … Daddy!”

Joel jolted awake. A stray frosting tip fell from his fingers and rolled across the floor until it hit the edge of Sarah’s heel. His vision swam with exhaustion, drowsy eyes sweeping over the kitchen table. A half frosted cake, a bit lopsided and slightly whiter than the yellow version advertised on the box. A frosting bag filled with purple frosting resting precariously on the edge of the table, inches from his hand now numb from laying on it.

In sudden alarm, he turned back to a curious Sarah. “Baby, I –.” When she met his gaze, he just sighed, dropping his shoulders. “What’re you doing up? It’s late.”

“I saw the light,” she said simply.

She bent down, retrieving the frosting tip before ambling over to his side. He watched her every move, weighing every option that popped into his head about what her expression meant. Child-like innocence. Brief reminders of every year he’d spent enjoying her life right before his eyes.

The small gears were shifting in her head; he could see them from here. She was eyeing the cake, if he could even call the mound of crumbled blocks a cake. Her gaze momentarily slid toward him as she neared him. She stopped at his side, a small hand on his thigh indicating her intent. He pushed his chair back, hands easily guiding her up and onto his lap.

“What’re you doing?” She finally asked.

“Figured I’d try my hand at baking. Construction’s getting slow these days. What’d you think?”

His voice was casual, but he was anything but. He had worried his lip in the aisle of the supermarket just at the thought of buying the wrong cake decorations. The moment of truth had come too soon for him. If he hadn’t been so damn tired, if Tommy had gotten the supplies earlier and hadn’t caused the job to go until ten – 

“It’s pretty.”

Her voice startled him, laced with joy and, what seemed like, pleasant surprise. Her back was leaned against him, and he could just make out her face, angled slightly away from him. She was smiling softly at the poor imitation of whatever he’d bought. The only store left open had been out of cake mix, of course. A woman in the aisle with him explained how easily he could make something close to it with this. Easy for her was hell for Joel, but he couldn’t put a price on Sarah’s smile at that moment.

“Thank you. Tried real hard on it.” He was trying for humor, but he meant every word. His attempts were born from a real place – a place that desperately wanted to see her light up the way she did when he forced himself to sit through her favorite movie, when they decorated the Christmas tree early last year, and when he finally let her drive the truck on Tommy’s lap.

The two looked at the excuse for a cake. It was leaning now. A small portion protruding from where Joel attempted to make a flower out of a mold.

“Is it –,” she paused, cautiously, but hopefully, picking her next words. “Is it for me?”

“‘Course, babygirl. This masterpiece of a cake ain’t for just any eight-year-old.”

“I’m not eight yet,” she reminded him. “Except,” she paused again, frowning. “My birthday’s tomorrow.”

“You always wake up so early. Thought I’d try to surprise you by fixin’ it tonight.”

She stared a bit longer before nodding decisively and throwing an arm around his shoulders. She twisted in his lap, eyes and smile beaming up at him. “I would’ve slept in for you.”

Luck. It had to be luck. Joy, devotion, trust, unquestionable love. A child’s eyes swim with all of the above, and one child in particular, his child, was looking at him with all that and more. Her tightly-wound curls framed her small face and swept her tired eyes, but her expression remained the same. Joel’s heart twisted at the sight.

He cleared his throat, hesitant to speak with the growing lump in his throat. “You would’ve pretendin’ to, anyway.” He rose, maneuvering her until he was carrying her comfortably against his hip. “C’mon, now. It’s late. Gotta get to bed if you want your gifts.”

Abruptly, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, daddy.”

He smiled, part of him worried his eyes were growing wet. “Anything for you, babygirl. Happy birthday.”

Joel was torn from his stupor at the sight in front of him – the sight he’d been staring at while reliving a memory he felt fading almost as fast as he began to remember it. It was a boy, barely old enough to be a teenager. His tear-stained cheeks were nothing compared to the way his eyes rapidly and wildly scanned the area. His gaze hit Joel’s for only a second before he was moving on.

“Dad!” he was shouting. “Dad!”

The boy was turning in circles, looking every which way and shouting into the sea of unknown faces. Every so often he was jostled by complete strangers – unnamed faces covered in weaponry, medication, or grief. One man bumped into him so hard he nearly lost his footing. It didn’t matter. It didn’t stop his shouts or his turns or his wild eyes cutting through the masses of people.

“Dad!” 

“Dad … Dad!”

Joel turned suddenly, new reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose and hands gripping a cup of coffee – fresh seconds. His elbow was propped against the kitchen table he had been occupying for the last hour, mountains of papers and file folders splayed across the tabletop along with a black pen resting atop an unfinished tax document. With Sarah now in sight, his eyes briefly scanned the backyard through the patio-door window, where he’d last seen her playing soccer with Tommy. 

His brother, of course, now leaned against their fence with a shit-eating grin on his face as the woman he was talking to from his neighbor’s yard threw her head back in laughter. 

Of course.

Joel’s eyes turned back to Sarah, breathing in feigned annoyance. “What? Jesus, you keep calling my name like that you’re gonna dad me to death.”

She snorted. “If I wanted that, I’d do it more like this – Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Da–.”

“No, now that’s more like it.”

With a shake of her head, and a small smile, she wandered closer to him with a simple, “What’re you doin’?”

“Takin’ a break from you.”

She ignored him, stepping close enough to peer over the table. Normally, Joel would shoo her away with an obvious hint that she shouldn’t concern herself with whatever was his job. He didn’t like her looking or hearing about their situation in any way, good or bad. She was supposed to be thinking about soccer and school and zoos and the fair he and Tommy were taking her to later that week. Not any of this.

After a moment, he finally did; he abruptly moved forward, reaching and shuffling the papers into a messy stack.

“Nothing you have to worry about, honey, it’s –”

“Line eight E is repeated three times.”

He froze. “What?”

“Line eight, letter ‘E.’ It’s repeated three times.” For emphasis, she pointed down at the document closest to her.

Joel picked up the paper, letting the black pen slide off of it and land with a soft thud on the paper beneath it. She was right. There was no denying she was right. “Huh.”

“‘Sometimes it’s good to have a second pair of eyes,’” she quoted him, turning and strolling to the cabinet to retrieve a bag of chips. He’d told her that when he let her replace the axle nuts on her bike tire. She’d sworn the nuts wouldn’t rotate until he came over to help. The sentiment worked then, and it was working now. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself, Dad.”

He gave her a look, brows furrowing, but her back was turned. She busied herself pouring chips into a bowl. He tried for humor again, responding, “I’m never by myself. I got Tommy breathin’ down my neck every day. He’s all the help I need.”

The only indication of her response was a slight shake of her head, curly hair brushing, back and forth, between her shoulder blades. A quiet huff, something close to a laugh, escaped her.

“We’re also out of milk.” She threw a reply over her shoulder casually, very obviously avoiding turning around.

For a long moment, his eyes were still trained on her. It took a mental connection, a moment of realization, for his brows to lift slightly. His gaze slid over to a purple sticky note hanging diagonally on the refrigerator. Her frilly handwriting, turned cursive upon entering middle school, etched out ‘Get milk from the store!’ in large letters.

“That’s what the note on the fridge is for?”

She remained silent but finished making her snack, ambling back to his side and taking a seat in the chair beside him. There was no need for her to respond, but Joel’s nerves went into overdrive at any and all underlying insinuations. Was she worried about something? Worse yet, was she worried about him?

“Where’s all this coming from?” he continued.

She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. “You just work so much. More than usual. I just thought – Least I can do is help you some.”

“You really wanna help out around here, maybe you can finally get a job,” he tried, verbally poking fun. “Pick up a few hours.” 

“Oh, ha ha.”

She briefly smiled at him, but the act ended as soon as it began. It was clear something was bothering her. Worry was etched between her brows, and it was then Joel realized that’s how she’d been looking at him all month. Eyes wide and deep with concern; brows furrowed with a tight smile that didn’t seem quite as natural anymore. His heart nearly broke, and he cleared his throat to hide his upset.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I work a lot, and I’m not … around as much as I used to be. I’ll do better. I will. But there’s nothing you need to be worryin’ about.”

She only nodded before adding a soft, “I know.”

“Good. So you also know I love you, babygirl. Not much I wouldn’t do for ya.”

“I know.”

“That all?”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I love you too, dad.”

“That all?”

“Well, I wouldn’t wanna ‘dad you to death.’”

“Oh yeah,” he teased, leaning forward to swipe a few chips from her bowl. He flung one towards her, grinning when a laugh erupted that she couldn’t quite contain. Popping the rest of the chips in his mouth, he warned, “Stop playing with your food.”

The sound of laughter, even from a memory, felt jarring, too rich and too pure for the dark scene unfolding around him. He was long-since aware of his eyes growing wet, and, for once, he didn’t care. Couldn’t bring himself to fear or worry about it. He just stared – from the shrieking woman to the shouting boy to the wide, suddenly imposing, city landscape in the distance. It all felt void, lacking meaning in a meaningless world. 

What was to be gained from this? What did any of them gain from anything?

Someone ran by, bumping into Joel’s gurney and swearing a harsh apology in the process. Or maybe just swearing. He couldn’t quite place it, and he didn’t try to. But the action was enough to remind him of his being; his body felt weightless as he drifted from distant memories to distant memories, deliberately failing to grasp one long enough to replace the bitter nightmare threatening to replay itself, over and over again. Maybe if he’d twisted the other way. Or took a chance on running. Or held her a little tighter. Or –

The gurney suddenly felt rough where his hands were gripping the edge, knuckles white and blistering. Now he could sense pain from his open wound. And maybe that was the point. To sense, to feel, something other than what was threatening to send him spiraling. The recent events were still forming pictures in his mind. Consolidation taking its time as depictions kept reordering and restructuring themselves. Building and tearing down again. It was like his brain refused to settle on any one experience.

Because they were all wrong. It was all wrong. It shouldn’t have happened. Not like this.

Emotions had yet to hit him like a brick wall, and, quite frankly, he didn’t want them to. Not now. Not ever. Sensations were returning, sporadically. There was only one he settled on. He vaguely remembered Tommy slipping a handgun into the waistband of his jeans earlier, telling him he might need it before hoisting him to his feet and pushing him to run. To run like his life had depended on it. Even if he was forced to leave his entire life – a child – lying on the cold ground behind him.

That was the sensation he focused on: the hard lick of metal curling its cool touch against his lower back.

-

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

Waiting is just as agonizing as not. You still couldn’t quite decide if you wanted time to go faster or to go slower. You were, however, determined to maintain as much control over the situation as possible. If Danny could manage a calm head, so could you, for his sake and in his absence. You made sure your aunt was comfortable, reassuring her with a few pats on the shoulder after she’d sunken to the ground. Your cousins kept near her, staring up at you with pure curiosity.

You wondered if they understood, or just how much they understood. For their sake, you hoped they hadn’t a clue. If their silence was any indication, you were sure they were fine, probably more so worried about their mother’s – your aunt’s – tear-stained cheeks than anything else.

You tried your best not to glance at the street entrance every minute, but your head was on a swivel. Time itself seemed to stand still. How could you not wish you could do the same? Stand still, as if holding your breath might make it easier to hear your brother’s footsteps come back to you. His footsteps – loud, heavy, familiar.

That’s what you were thinking about when your uncle stumbled through the mouth of the side street he’d left you in. A purple bruise was forming on the lower left side of his jaw. A streak of blood ran across the chest of his gray shirt. Most disturbing of all, he was completely and utterly alone.

“We’ve got to go,” he said.

He hurried right by you, taking long strides towards his family. After checking his wife and daughter, he crouched and busied himself zipping his son’s jacket.

“Where’s Danny?” You asked.

The question hung in the air – thick and unanswered. He ignored you. Easily. His eyes remained pinned to his son’s body as his fingers fumbled, first with the jacket and then with the cuff of his son’s jeans. 

“Where is he?” You were still calm, then. With no answer, you pulled back and stepped cautiously toward the end of the street, looking down where he’d come from. When no one else came by, you returned to your place a few feet away from your family. “Where’s Danny?”

All action and thought cease to exist when laughter brings forth pure, adulterated delight. Especially for a six-year-old child. Laughter and millions of innocent giggles bubble over and make it easy for small feet to run freely. Untamed footsteps can easily fall in line with grass and get lost to rows and rows of trees.

Lost. So, so lost.

You stood in the middle of a clearing. At some point, your laugh had burned down to a chuckle, then to silence, when you realized how far you’d made it alone. Your brother had teased you, playfully giving chase about a mile back, and you had wonderfully ran and leapt over branches and small creeks. Even climbed over a small boulder. You only came to a stop when your echoes seemed too quiet for two.

“Danny?” You called to no one in particular. “Where are you?”

It only took a moment for the beautiful chirps and snaps of branches to seem daunting, not tranquil. Terrifying, not serene. The stillness of it all threatened to suffocate you and evoke fear where you didn’t think it previously possible. You wanted to back away, but your foot had already nearly slipped on a slick mud spot.

Your eyes bounced, wildly, from one tree trunk to another. An unfamiliar feeling coiled up your back and settled at the base of your neck. The sun was starting to slink toward the horizon then. Which way had you come from? What would happen if you didn’t make it back home? What if Danny had gotten hurt, and you hadn’t both to hear him or stop for him? Had you left him somewhere?

“Danny!”

There was no answer. Only the distant sound of water trickling over rocks and another quick snap of a tree branch waving in the wind. Hot tears trickled down your face as you dropped down, sitting and pulling your knees under your chin. You were lost, but, above all, you had lost your brother.

“Hey, little sis, look what I found!” You nearly jumped out of your skin, twisting around to see Danny stepping around a bush and joining you in the clearing. He looked up to proudly present you with a small frog, cupped carefully in the palms of his hands. “Wanna name him?”

For a moment, you stayed right where you were. A soft cry escaped your lips, but there was an early sense of relief flooding every part of your small frame. You still hadn’t relaxed your furrowed brows or the frown that wound tightly on your face. Fear had gripped you, and you were beginning to realize it was the hardest thing to shake.

It only took Danny a second to realize you were crying, and only a second longer to bound over to your side and drop to his knees. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He set the frog down on a dry patch of grass before fixing an intense stare on you. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, sucking in a breath and releasing a broken sob. “I – I thought you were gone.”

Danny’s shoulders dropped a bit. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He reached out and set a hand on your shoulder. “I would never leave you, okay?”

You nodded, and he dropped his hand. He let you take a few breaths and calm down a bit before he stood to his feet. 

“I think we should go back now. It’s getting dark.” He stuck out his hand, pulling you to your feet when you slipped your hand into his. “Do you remember our secret handshake?”

“Yes.”

An easy grin graced his features once more. “Good, you can show me when we make it back home.”

He moved to leave, but you pulled him back. Your hand fell from his and pointed down at the frog. “What about the frog?”

“What about him?”

“He doesn’t have a name.” He stood back and looked at you expectantly. “I think we should call him Rex.”

Danny nodded, pretending to be lost in thought for a moment. He tapped his chin with the tip of his finger before smiling down at you. “I like Rex. It’s cool.”

Your smile returned, and you skipped out of the clearing, grabbing Danny’s hand as you went. That’s how it was, and that’s how it should be, when an older brother is so near – when another’s presence soothes the quiet that only loneliness can bring about. Your tears had dried and a glimmer of tranquility returned to the noises in the air and the stillness of the environment. A feeling of safety returned soon after, too, and the discomfort of fear had fallen without your notice.

His word was enough: I would never leave you.

You half expected him to scare you like he had when you were children. To step around the wall and stumble towards you, completely oblivious to your worries and concerns about his whereabouts. You would berate him, maybe smack his arm or chest for sending your nerves into overdrive, but you would most likely pull him into a hug and look him over for any bruises. You kept glancing in the direction of the street, waiting for an arrival that would never come.

“Where’s Danny?”

“Honey,” your aunt tried, giving your uncle a sincere look that read: Please answer your niece.

He ignored her too, setting his hands firmly on his son’s shoulders and giving him a nod. He looked at his son intently, probably trying to reassure him with just one look. With the state the world was currently in, words were starting to fail. All anyone could do was offer some sense of familiarity in gestures and in looks.

But that wasn’t enough for you. It never would be.

In desperation, you moved to grab at your uncle’s shirt. “Where is he? Where’s D–.”

Your uncle stood abruptly, whipping around to face you. You were nearly chest to chest as he leered down at you. “He’s not coming back.”

Your response was immediate, taking a step back as if someone had punched you squarely in the chest. “Wha– What?”

A long, silent moment went by. You could just make out the screaming crowd now nothing but a soft, inaudible sound to your ears. Your uncle dropped his gaze. He looked almost guilty for not being able to offer you the reprieve you were obviously searching for – the answer he just couldn’t give you.

“He’s not coming back, kid,” he said, softer this time. “I– I’m sorry.”

He turned, picking up his son and grabbing his wife’s arm to hoist her up with him. Your aunt held her daughter close to her chest, unable to meet your eyes. There was another moment of silence between you all. They stood there, uncertain. Your uncle refused to meet your eyes for longer than a second, flitting his gaze from you to the street behind you. It was the sound of another military vehicle that finally made him straighten his posture and look you in the eye.

“You need to get out of here. It’s not safe out in the open.”

He turned to jog further down the street, in the opposite direction of where you’d all entered originally. That’s when your aunt offered you a sincere look. “Come with us.”

You made no effort to move. Your feet were cemented to the soiled street; Your eyes still glued to your uncle’s distressed countenance. His words were the only thing you heard: He’s not coming back.

“C’mon, Lorraine. We need to go.”

“We can’t just leave her here, David.”

The military truck came louder now just as the backdoor to the bar slammed open. A man stumbled through the door and landed in a heap of tangled limbs on the ground. A low growl escaped him as his hands fisted the concrete, and he doubled over, twice, in obvious pain. His brown hair was awry, fingers caked in something you couldn’t quite place. The back of his shirt was ripped in various places, and his veiny flesh was exposed; skin long since too inhumane to not deserve the look you gave him. Your eyes blown wide and jaw slack.

The man’s head snapped up, wild eyes looking directly at your aunt.

“C’mon, Lorraine!” Your uncle shouted louder, backing away and pulling his son tighter to his chest. “We gotta go now!”

Your aunt stayed there, frozen in fear. You took a step back, foot catching in a small puddle and sending the man’s horrid attention barreling toward you. The break in harsh scrutiny was all your aunt needed. She took that moment to hug her daughter close and sprint after your uncle. Their retreating footsteps hit like lead to your chest, every step sending you reeling backward as your chest heaved with something closer to alarm than fear.

The man shrieked, scrambling to his feet and running toward you. For a moment, your eyes slid to your aunt and uncle’s distant figures just over his shoulder. A part of you half-expected them to chance a look back, to answer their curiosity about you and your wellbeing. But they didn’t. They didn’t spare a single look, even when they turned sharply and disappeared around a corner.

A deep pain began to throb, harsher now, from the spot Danny had been gripping your arm. The man was within arms length now, hand reaching out to grab that same arm – the arm Danny had held protectively in place.

Your body reacted quicker than you did. You weren’t sure you would’ve reacted at all, if not for the slightest inkling, the slightest hope, that Danny was still out there, somewhere close. Who would come for him if you didn’t?

With a surprised yelp, you turned on your heels and sprinted toward the street entrance – toward the street Danny disappeared down not even thirty minutes before. Gnashing teeth and a horrible stench followed you closely, squirming and throwing itself at you like an animal. You had made it only a few feet in the street before the man tackled you to the ground. Pain erupted from your knees and elbows as you fell with a sharp cry.

A hand pulled your hair, clothes, arms, just about everything fingers could find purchase. You twisted sharply, coming face to face with the man. His teeth came dangerously close to your face and, on instinct, you brought your forearm up to his neck, pushing him away with as much strength as you could muster. You gritted your teeth, but a scream soon ripped from your throat as his upper body pushed further and further down on you. Closer and closer until – 

A shot rang out, and the man’s body went limp.

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

The finality of acceptance had still escaped Joel. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to take anything in that moment as truth, no matter how outlandish it might have been.

Two white coats rushed by, stopping mere feet away. Even among the chaos, their conversation was easy enough to overhear.

“I have a dad asking after his kid.”

“Everyone’s asking after someone.”

“Yeah, but she was here when they arrived. Apparently lost her in all the confusion.”

“Take him to triage. A lot of missing kids there. We just revived one.”

Joel looked up at the new truth being presented to him – a truth that was far easier to accept than the one bombarding his current experience. His feet were carrying him away from his spot of refuge before he could even think. In fact, he wasn’t thinking. He was scanning for her. Curly hair. Eyes looking for him as much as his eyes were looking for her. 

We just revived one.

If there was a possibility she was here, he was willing to take it. He had already accepted that possibility as fact without his own notice. His heart was elated and his chest was rising just at the thought. It was easier, fairer. And in no way was he preparing, or thinking to prepare, for the inevitable crash that always took place when attempting to deny reality.

“By nine, Dad.” Sarah hopped out of the truck, slamming the door behind her. She went to Tommy’s side, hand clamping down on the opened window and eyes boring into her Dad from where he sat in the passenger seat. “You said nine.”

“I know, I know.”

She opened her mouth to add something, but the bell cut her off. She huffed in resignation before pointing at the two of them, each in turn. With a growing smile, she waved and ran towards her school, throwing a quick “Don’t forget the cake!” over her shoulder.

Just as Tommy pulled out of the lot, his eyes slid over to his brother, and his face twisted into a wide grin he couldn’t hide even if he tried. “Jesus, that kid loves you to death.”

At that, Joel couldn’t hide his own smile, even if the weight of Tommy’s words felt heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah, I know.”

A content quiet fell between the two as Tommy maneuvered out of the school lot. Once he was back on the road, his eyes drifted toward his brother a few times before he shook his head. He always did that when something was on his mind but didn’t know quite how to approach it. Especially when it was Joel he was trying to approach.

“I tell you what, Joel. You gotta cut back.”

Joel was no stranger to the topic Tommy was attempting to bring up. He knew he was working like a madman again, picking up projects and stumbling into the house late at night often long after Sarah had put herself to bed.

Still. He acted oblivious. “What do you mean?”

“Sarah, man. You gotta cut back. Spend more time with her. I know you mean well. You want to provide for her, protect her. I respect that, Joel. Hell, everybody sees and respects that. But she’s still young. Still needs you. It won’t be like that always. She’s got a bright future ahead of her. Nothing’s going to take that from her. From you. Nothing’s going to change that. You don’t have to work so damn hard just to keep it that way.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but he offered his brother a brief nod when he glanced in his direction. They both knew he was right.

“Besides,” Tommy continued with a teasing grin, “you need to get a hold on her before she gets too much older. If she’s anything like we were, they’ll be hell to pay.”

Joel grunted. “Nu uh, my Sarah’s too smart. I ain’t worried ‘bout nothing.”

“You say that now.”

“And I’ll say it then.” Joel nodded decisively. “It’s like you said, she’s got a bright future ahead of her.”

“I know, brother, I know. All I’m saying is that you should make the most of it now. These years will be gone before you know it.” Tommy turned to look at him, more intensely this time. “She’ll be gone before you know it.”

The children were many, but the number that resembled her were few. The child they had revived was a boy no older than four and had been revived for reasons unbeknownst to Joel. The inevitable crash of secret humiliation and embarrassment at his own deception led him to a corner, away from the frenzy and uproar in the camp. Two soldiers stood, with their backs toward him and weapons drawn, with their heads on a swivel. But they paid no attention to Joel. Even with the cool metal resting in his hands, safety off and finger poised at the ready. They still paid him no mind. He might as well have been a dead man.

Should’ve been, anyway.

On my life. Not yours, babygirl.

With that thought, he was ready for anything that might come after. Truth be told, he was more than ready. He wanted to pull the trigger, so he did.

But he flinched. Even before the bullet had left its chamber, a part of him was wholly certain that any shot or amount of lead was not meant for him. It was a destiny he was never meant to share, no matter how much he wanted to.

–

Chicago, Illinois. September 2003.

Four pairs of hands were on you and hauling you to your feet before you could reassess your situation any further. The body slid off of you as you were pulled to your feet; its weight made a sickening noise as it thumped to the pavement at your feet. You were being dragged to an armored truck filled with people – men, women, children. Greedily, you scanned the faces for the only one that mattered. Maybe they’d got him. Maybe they’d saved him, too.

There were a lot of people, but none resembled Danny.

Finally, something broke – anger, bitterness, nauseous … mostly anger. You dug your heels into the pavement, nearly sending one soldier tripping over his feet at your sudden protest. You took the moment of surprise as an opportunity to rip your arm free from his grasp, shoving him away and clawing at the hand still clamped firmly around your other arm. You tried desperately to free yourself, scratching and pulling like your life depended on it. Like Danny’s life depended on it.

“No!” You shouted. “No! Get off me!”

Your doorknob rattled before your brother let himself in, closing the door softly behind him as if he hadn’t already made a world of noise just by entering.

“Jesus,” you started, sitting up in bed, “don’t you know the first thing about knocking?”

“I’ll knock when you stop stealing my sweatshirts from my room.”

Childishly, you stuck out your tongue and crossed your arms. “Fair.”

Without missing a beat, he took three long strides toward your window and looked out, smiling down at something. Undoubtedly his friend’s car, waiting for him in the driveway. “I’m heading out.”

“When are you not?”

“Just open the window for me when I get back, alright?” You got up to join him by the window as he opened it. “I won’t be too late this time.”

“I’m starting to think you like asking for trouble.”

He turned to smile at you – soft, mischievous, winning. Your brother could just as easily ask to leave the house, but he preferred sneaking out. He was defiant just to be defiant, doing so in a way that still made him agreeable and likable. Roping you into his mischief was like a sibling rite of passage, as he put it.

Despite yourself, you smiled back before watching him clamor out of your window. He crouched on the roof, turning to flash you one last smile. “Don’t forget my knock.”

“Three knocks.”

“Always three so you know it's me.” He winked.

“You say that like anyone else would be knocking on my window at one in the morning.”

“You’re right. Because you’re lame.”

“Go before I push you off the roof.”

He grinned widely before turning and inching his way toward the edge. He immediately stopped when you called his name.

“Danny,” you said softly. He looked over his shoulder. “If anything ever happens, don’t be afraid to call the house. I’ll come get you myself if I have to.”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m serious, Danny.”

“Relax. I know my fearsome sister will always come to my rescue.” He gave a mock salute before jumping down to the lawn. He ran toward the idle car before turning back toward you, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “Three knocks!”

When the soldier had recomposed himself, he walked back toward you and yanked your arm, much harder this time. Your outburst drew the attention of the others on the vehicle. A mom pulled her child closer to her, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was still out there, missing, and not a single person seemed to give a damn.

“Get off me!” You screamed again, voice breaking as a tear slipped down your cheek. In frustration, you sent a swift kick that the soldier sidestepped easily. “Get off me!”

One soldier finally let you go as the other wrapped his arms around you, pulling you off your feet and carrying you the rest of the way to the awaiting vehicle. Your struggle was rendered useless as he carried you with ease, tossing you onto the truck like you meant nothing. You probably didn’t, not to him and not to anyone. But you knew you meant something to Danny, and you weren’t going to go down without him. Not without a fight.

You pushed off the bed of the truck, attempting to scramble off of it and back onto the street. “Danny!” You shouted, pushing a stranger out of your way and making a quick jump for it. “Danny!”

You were sure you were still calling his name, even when the butt of a gun connected with the side of your forehead.

–

Austin, Texas. September 2003.

The sound of a weapon firing draws a lot of attention. Namely from uniformed soldiers who were to make sure all civilians had been thoroughly searched and weapons properly confiscated before entering the medical camp.  The mistake was sure to cause one of them trouble, which is probably why they tackled Joel with such ferocity. He was on the ground and surrounded by military and medical personnel before he could blink.

Tommy was shouting his name again, parting the crowd roughly as he clawed his way to his brother. White bandages gripped in his hand. He was searching for him, relentlessly, before catching sight of the commotion. All the while, Joel was calm. The realization hadn’t dawned on him yet; the adrenaline of the deed he was trying to commit had not yet worn off. He was delusional with the loss of will – his volition having been stripped from him through no effort of his or anyone else’s. 

For a second, he let himself believe he was dead. Like some instinctual force hadn’t just caused him to flinch.

Someone hoisted him to his feet; all while someone, most likely Tommy, was shouting, “Don’t shoot him! Don’t shoot him!”

A doctor stepped forward. She flashed a light in his eyes. “Sir. Sir? Can you hear me?”

A trickle of blood slid past his peripheral. It dawned on him that the commotion around him was real – it was happening – and his unfocused eyes finally snapped toward the soldier gripping his arm. His unfeeling expression hidden under his helmet felt familiar. Too familiar.

“Joel,” Tommy warned. He knew his brother well enough to predict his intent. He stepped forward, cautiously, trying but failing to shoo the soldiers and doctors back. He momentarily looked between the wound on Joel’s head and the discarded gun on the ground. He hesitated, partially, but hesitated all the same. “He ain’t sick or nothing.” Tommy turned from the doctors back to Joel. “Joel, listen to me, brother. Let’s get you patched up, alright? Let’s ge–.”

Joel was swinging before he knew what he was doing. He lunged, kicked, and swung wildly, nearly ripping himself from the awkward grip now three soldiers had him in. They were strong; non compliant. They wrestled with him for a moment before another doctor ushered him away.

“Here,” the doctor was saying, “bring him over here.”

 “Careful, I said he ain’t sick,” Tommy butt in, grimacing at the hold they had on his brother. “Joel, calm down. Everything’ll be okay, Joel. Just — Just calm down.”

The soldiers were dragging him to a nearby gurney. A few medical personnel were preparing a syringe somewhere off to his right. He sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight, and every single thing he was doing was an indication of that. Somewhere, deep down, he could hear his brother. Calling for him to stop. Calling for him to settle down before they did something to him. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Maybe they should do something to him. Put him out of his misery. Or subject him to the same fate they subjected her to. It was a cruel thought that they’d spare him – that they’d do everything in their power not to hurt him in the way they hurt her.

They were wrestling him onto his back when his mouth finally caught up to his actions.

“My daughter!” He shouted. “My daughter. You took her.” He leered in the face of the nearest soldier, tears glistening in his eyes. “You took her.”

A needle was being pressed into his skin when a third voice spoke to him, calmly. Another doctor. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll find her. I’m sure, wherever she is, she’ll be alright, if she’s not already.”

His next protests were weak as his body suddenly relaxed. His eyes fluttered just as Tommy came into view at his side. Tommy just stared at him. Horrified. Guilty. Sad. They both looked at each other, eyes mirroring one another and telling stories neither one of them were ready to say aloud.

–

2023.

The consequence of grief and sudden loss might be unique to the individual, but it is imminent for all individuals. No one can measure the actions or reactions of another. Neither can blame be given or taken away. The repercussions of any event are often cyclical, far outweighing descriptions or explanations. In any one situation, one might fall and another might rise. Or perhaps one and another might both fall. 

With loss, it’s typically the latter.

Joel’s gruff appearance was unmistakable to the people in the Boston QZ. Unsurprising. Like the rumor that swirled around about him after the day’s shifts ended and the people could return to their nightly rituals of whatever placated their poor souls — beer, pills, sex. The former two either stolen or traded for rations.

The rumor didn’t spread far — not past a block, maybe a sector at most. It was a cautious one. A woman told of her inability to toss a child’s body to the flames during her shift. An unforgiving job. A thankless act of service to the QZ that meant discarding the ones killed at the hands of those in authority — by Fedra. Infected. Suspected. Guilty (or not). Didn’t matter. Her story was one that stoked plenty of bitter, angry people who already hated the QZ for their wrongs and misdoings.

But it was Joel who stoked their feelings too — feelings of fear and avoidance. Wordlessly, he had tossed the lifeless child into the awaiting flames with as much absence of emotion as he always displayed. Unfeeling. Unapproachable. Never spoke a word but was somehow enough all on his own – enough to cause others to steer clear, to look away whenever he came around. 

The only one that could tolerate him, that could placate him, was Tess. Something she could use to her advantage and soak in the pleasure of.

Nearly a thousand miles away, you were pacing wordlessly outside a freezer in the back of a restaurant in downtown Chicago. A bitter cry had long-since been muted by the sounds of grunts and a flurry of punches before a familiar face stepped out. He didn’t say anything, even when he walked right by you and wiped his hands on a dirty rag.

You did as you always did — followed at his heels. “I don’t trust this guy, Dallas. He’s lying.”

“You never trust anyone.” His face was serious, but his voice carried humor. You rolled your eyes.

“And for good reason. He’s been lying since I found him by the old medical camp near Lincoln Park.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

He turned to look at you, eyes boring into yours for a few seconds. You were dropping your gaze before the intensity of it all could get too thick. For a moment, your attention bounced around the small kitchen. Your ears caught the quiet voices of your group outside — a good mix of men and women. 

Dallas turned fully, tossing the rag on the floor and standing in front of you with arms crossed over his chest. “What were you doing near the old med bay?”

“I told you.” Your voice had a dangerous edge to it. You shifted your weight to your other foot and finally met his gaze again. “I ran an errand.”

Unconvinced, Dallas nodded. “You were looking for him again, weren’t you?”

He commanded and barked orders well. You usually followed them — usually. But even he wasn’t stupid enough to mention his name aloud to you. Your sibling’s name was never spoken again after you revealed to Dallas that dark night twenty years earlier. But Dallas knew this was about him. He could tell in the way a muscle in your jaw jumped, and you looked away briefly. 

He chuckled. Dark. Low. “Look, I get it. You haven’t been back here in years, and I figured the thought of finding him’s been tempting you since Arizona. But you keep putting the group at risk, and I’ll have to abandon you.”

You snorted. “As if you’d leave me behind.”

“Watch me.” 

He was grinning, a certain humor in his tone that wasn’t in the least bit light or airy. There was nothing indicating that he wasn’t as serious as his darkened eyes meant to be. Something twisted in your stomach, heart plummeting, as your smile dropped at the thought. Only a moment went by before you forced the feeling away, choking the thick emotions down until the only thing you could feel was cold metal being pushed into your hand.

“If you don’t trust him,” Dallas muttered, stepping closer to you as he pressed the gun into your limp palm a bit firmer, “then end it.”

You swallowed quietly, taking the weapon and testing its weight without once looking up at him. You could feel him hovering over you. His heat dripped off of him and pooled at your feet. Deep. Menacing. Unforgiving. His request wasn’t the first time, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. But this time, this one time, some part of you felt off. Something tugged at your lips until you unknowingly frowned down at the tigger your finger hovered over. 

Maybe it was the mention of him. Maybe your emotions were too high and your willingness finally waning. Maybe it was the sister waiting back at the old medical camp, looking for the brother you helped kidnapped and now held hostage in some worn-down freezer. 

“Is this really necessary?” You asked. “If he’s really lying, we can still use him.”

“And have them get to him? He’s a damn liar, sure, but he’s a traitor first. He knows what we did.”

“Yeah, but he did the same to them.” You finally looked back up at him, gun held loosely at your side. “For us. Remember? What else did we expect? For him not to turn on us, too?”

Dallas was quiet for a moment, a long moment. But the way he was peering down at you, with hooded eyes and clenched teeth, didn’t change for a second. “I’ve never stopped to question you. We are the only two here. I never left you.”

You knew what he was referencing. Suddenly the group just beyond the thin white door separating the kitchen from the dining area seemed too close, too imposing. Every person in your group was a new face. Their voices were still unfamiliar and discomforting to hear. Your old companions were either dead or dying, snitching to Fedra for brownie points or taking their chances on their own, and Dallas was all you had left...

 He measured the look on your face before leaning in further, adding, “Now’s your chance to prove your loyalty to me.”

Your eyes snapped up at him, mouth now partially agape. Everything you had done leading up to this point had been erased by that measly sentence. Your actions, however gruff and unforgiving, were whittled to nothing before your eyes, and you were made out to be a fraud. Weak. Someone incapable of returning the favor of protection or dishing it out in the first place. The thought made you sick.

With a low huff, you spun on your heels and walked determinedly back to the freezer. You threw open the door to find your old partner, Brett, tied haphazardly to a chair surrounded by two of your guys. At the sight of you, his eyes were blown wide and head shook furiously from side to side. He was shouting something: No. No. No— please, no. But you were already gone, doomed to proving what you had already proved time and time again.

It only took one steady aim before you pulled the trigger.

Your men stood, jaw slack, as Brett’s body fell with a sickening thump. Your knees suddenly felt wobbly as adrenaline seeped from your body in waves, nearly doubling over as a pain hit your chest. You sniffed, waving the barrel of the gun between the two men before pointing it in Brett’s direction.

“Clean this up.”

Perhaps — for you and for Joel and for anyone else — the mind and body’s first instinct is denial. Perhaps sorrow cannot be given a true voice. Perhaps acceptance is far more brutal than the precious time one can spare living a half truth. Whatever the reason, manifestations of pain and suffering matter little when grief goes unnoticed and the heart unattended.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x platonic!reader #the last of us #thelastofus #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #fanfiction #joelmiller #tommymiller #tlou #the last of us tv show

[ellieluvr420]

Ellie was 17 when she first met reader and it was in an abandoned house with Joel (before she stopped talking with Joel). reader is actually from our reality and she shifted to tlou reality because she's obsessed with ellie (by using shifting methods). Reader is such a flirt. Flirt with everyone which confuses Ellie into her thinking reader doesn't have a crush on her because she acts like that with everyone. Reader quickly got popular in Jackson because of her personality. (By the way I'm only writing this just Incase someday you wanted to start a new series and wanted an idea, because I really want to see a story like this made by you! I love your writings sm)

HA i love this idea i think this could be a rlly funny like mini-series of reader just confusing the fuck out of #useless lesbian ellie, adding this to the list of future ideas! thanks darling <3

[insanermin]

FREE PALESTINE.

✮ about me: nermin, she/her, 19, lesbian. huge animal crossing enthusiast, genshin impact recoverer... currently obsessed with tlou. mdni!

requests are open! feel free to dm me, always here to listen <3

✮ ellie williams.

✧ one shots:

hate my guts, of course you do.

oh god, can you make my heart stop?

✧ series/mini-series:

and still i answer you call when she doesnt answer at all part 1, part 2

and it taste like cherry lip gloss on your lips

✧ drabbles:

make sure you got a will.

sleeping with ellie

loser!ellie headcanons

more to come soon ⋆｡°✩

#masterlist #ellie williams #ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie the last of us 2 #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie fanfic #ellie williams fanfic

[nowinterss]

joel miller drabble

He’s the shell of the man you imagine he must have been before you found him. Cold and distant… mean, even. Just how you like them.

“S’not your damn fault,” you tell him, albeit mistakenly. You close your eyes as soon as the venom soaked words pour out from your chapped lips. Damn it.

His eyes harden and shift down to glare at the laceration across your forearm, “I say it was?” The question bites you, his tone bordering feral, Southern drawl prominent.

“No,” you sigh, wincing when he presses the alcohol soaked cloth he holds against your bleeding wound. He’s settled between your legs, assessing the damage Robert’s men gave you. “Give me that,” you order, yanking the vodka from the table next to the two of you and taking a generous swig.

“If you had just listened-“

“Save me the lecture, Joel.”

He rolls his eyes, looking pointedly, again, at your injury.

“When I save the lectures, you get hurt.”

“We’ve been at this for what? A year? Little over?” Joel nods at you, “you should know by now, s’just a bit of bad luck.”

“And vodka’s s’posed to help with that?”

“Seems to help you most nights,” you bite back, “fuck, that hurts.”

“You’ll manage,” he smirks.

“Not with you manhandling my arm like that… are you trying to maim me?”

He chuckles a bit, just a ghost of the sound, really. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t bleed out. You sure it didn’t nick an artery?”

“I’d be dead by now, Joel,” you groan. Another swig. “Robert’s a fucking asshole,” you hiss, “can’t wait to get my hands on that fucker.”

“Not if I get to him first,” he growls, finally tying a pathetic piece of cloth around your arm. He rubs at his chin, settling back onto his ankles and saving you from his close proximity. Salt and pepper traces of a beard litter his face, matching the mess of curls on top of his head, he’s actually kind of pretty. “And I don’t drink vodka,” he points to the bottle, “I’m a whiskey man.”

“So your accent suggests,” you nod, hopping off of the shoddy kitchen counter of your shared apartment.

“Rations aren’t looking too bad,” Joel tells you, watching you get up and pace the length of the room. “Could use them, try and get Robert to see some sense,” he smiles, looking at the exasperation on your face. The fucking tease. “Yeah, figured as much.”

“He fucking had his men shoot me,” you spit.

“I told you never to go alone,” he points to you, “you should have taken me with you.”

“I wanted to see the battery for myself,” you shrug, “m’glad I did, too. We would’ve been fucked, Joel. Fucked with a capital F.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten shot,” he shakes his head, “you should have taken me with you,” he tells you again, more stern.

“Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve… what does it matter, Joel? Damage is done, douchebags shot me. It’s all the same.”

“And what about the day you don’t come back? They nicked you this time, sure. What about the day it isn’t some dipshit behind the barrel and they don’t miss?”

You stand in front of him, rivulets of daylight pouring through your moldy kitchen window and torn blinds. The kitchen smells like mildew, alcohol, and home.

“Careful, cowboy. You almost sound concerned,” you whisper, mocking him because the way he gets mad just does something for you.

“I am,” he admits. “Running out on me to score some extra pills? I get that. Hustling on the side for extra booze? Fine,” he waves his hands dismissively, “but you went straight to the source of all of our fucking headaches, without me, and got hurt. You got a death wish I don’t know about?”

Your stomach tightens a bit, alcohol mixing with something far more intoxicating.

“No,” you whisper.

Joel’s eyes glaze over, eyeing the rise and fall of your chest, the seemingly uncomfortable flush of your cheeks.

“Good,” he grunts. “Let’s go pay Robert a visit.”

#tlou #the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #reader insert #nowinterss #tlou drabble #tlou mini series #the last of us drabble

[sapphicvalentines]

☆Baby,the stars shine bright☆pt3

pt1,pt2

inspired by the 'kamikaze girls',♡ always had unconditional love for lolita fashion and nothing else but when she met ellie,an auburn haired girl whos part of a gang with a dad's fashion sense ,her love for clothes begins to compete with her growing feelings for ellie

strangers to friends to lovers,love-hate friendship,ellie is into reader♡ but reader♡ shows no interest (in the beginning),opposite aesthetics,early 2000s

wlw,fluff

wc:4k

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆

Her name is Ellie. She's been with her gang for a year now, and her favorite activity is driving through the city with her friends at night. She revealed she only has one parental figure, not her biological father but a father figure, which explains her taste in fashion.

Ellie somewhat resembles you more than your dad when you think about it. Both of you are the same age and spend most of your time doing things you enjoy, although she's more of a night owl while you're a morning person. Her favorite color is black, whereas yours is pink. She enjoys hanging out with people she bonds with, while you prefer solitude.

"Last Christmas with Joel, we decided to try decorating our house with cool lights, so we bought them and spent the evening displaying them all over the facade. We even got a little Santa with his reindeers and placed them on the roof. It looked really cool. But the next morning, everything was gone," Ellie admitted, implying she was just as reckless as you, but you disagreed.

"That's not just bad luck; you're just cursed."

Thieves weren't uncommon in the area, but catching them was difficult, as you were learning the hard way. That's why Ellie offered you a hand, claiming she had nothing else to do, although she felt bad for you. She didn't say it aloud, but she appreciated that you didn't accuse her of stealing your purse, and she would never forget that.

That is all you managed to get from her as you wandered around your isolated village looking for the thief that stole your purse.

You felt like a desperate mother searching for her lost child in the middle of nowhere. You could laugh at how desperate both you and Ellie looked, asking every single person you came across if they'd seen your precious item. But, with the luck you had, you were nowhere close to getting it back. Everyone gave you the same nerve-wracking answer: "sorry, I didn't see anything around, but if I do, I'll tell you right away".You were losing your patience by the minute, and Ellie could feel it.

"They all sound suspicious repeating the same thing",you sighed as you ranted. Yes, you were to blame, but no matter who it was, you were going to make them pay, a million times the price of your bag. There was no way you could let them get away with this.

"It's not like theyre actually going to say they stole it"

Both of you stopped walking, not only because you were tired but also because you had searched pretty much everywhere in this village. The clouds were hiding the sun, darkening the ground beneath, like your aura losing its brilliant colors and giving room to the darker ones brought by despair.

The only thing you could do was cry, but you were even too tired to shed tears. "I'm done."

Giving up was an option, but it wasn't part of Ellie's nature. "Maybe they don't live in this area."

"I dropped it in front of my house, and it's a small village in the middle of nowhere. How is it that out of nowhere, a thief popped up to get it?" Despite replaying this scene countless times, the lack of clues wasn't getting you anywhere. You started to wonder how someone could even do this to anyone; you wouldn't wish that upon your worst enemy.

It was just a purse, but you carried your wallet and your ID card with it!

It was becoming a serious matter

"maybe because thieves dont come out of nowhere, you're not thinking hard enough"

"are you saying I'm like a thief magnet or something ?"

ellie looked at you up and down not knowing if she was supposed to act surprise at your remark"how much did your purse even cost?"

she made you answer your own question confirming you were indeed a thief magnet,by dropping you purse you had actually dropped 5000 bucks on the ground !

who the hell puts that much money for a bag? Ellie thought

"that's not bad luck,you're just stupid," you could tell she had been restraining herself from saying this for so long, but you couldn't blame her.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

One more thing you would have never guessed about Ellie is how intelligent she actually was.

The thought of taking the train to go to Tokyo to find anyone selling your precious item, where you can target a big crowd of people, hadn't crossed your mind until Ellie brought it up.

You assumed your brain was badly functioning from the lack of reward after working so hard to find the thief. You have been walking around for what seemed like a lifetime to find nothing but more exhaustion enveloping you.

It made you wonder how the freckled-faced girl in front of you looked still full of energy.

Maybe she was just excited to beat up someone; after all, it might be just another normal day for her.

Most of the time, you'd find yourself enlightened walking around Japan's capital city, but under those circumstances, your mood couldn't get any better.

"It kinda looks similar," Ellie pointed at a purse displayed in a convenience store. She was trying her best to help you after gave her a precise description of your purse. Unfortunately, she has a very poor imagination.

"Not even close."

The weather became cloudier as you and Ellie wandered around, looking at everyone suspiciously. It was going to start raining, but Ellie had spotted places where you could stay since you didn't have an umbrella.

You only accepted when you came across a cute coffee shop.

🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆🫖☆

With Baroque paintings displayed on the rock walls, the smell of menthol perfumed the whole place, and jazz played softly on speakers, you couldn't help but already fall in love with this place.

Ellie sat across from you, repeatedly trying to light up her joint, ignoring the 'smoking is forbidden' sign in front of the shop.

Silently, you sipped the hot tea, letting the aroma amplify once it touched your tongue. You didn't need much to be happy. Certainly, you didn't need Ellie to smoke in front of you, blowing some of it your way. The poor girl failed to catch your attention away from your tea, feeling ignored.

You kept silently drinking your tea, cherishing your daily tea time, closing your eyes to quiet your worried thoughts for a moment. The motorcycle girl took out her joint and lit it up again; the flicking sound was starting to annoy you.

You opened your eyes to her taking a puff from her nose

"stop that"

even though you were slightly annoyed she managed to get your attention back to herself

"man im just trying to lighten up the mood"ellie said after blowing the smoke out of her nostrils proudly.

You liked the smell of cigarettes, and though you didn't smoke, you could tell she was, in fact, not smoking one. That's why you refused when she proposed you take a puff.

Instead of convincing you, she tried to impress you by taking another puff with her other nostril.

"Seriously, do you get paid to be a clown?" you asked, trying to annoy her, as you lifted up your cup to drink more tea.

"I thought about it, but I'd lose my job if they ever hired you," you almost choked on the tea, making Ellie laugh so hard she put a hand on her stomach. You had just confirmed what she had said as she watched you cough, almost coughing your lungs out.

"Was it the weed that was making Ellie stop taking everything personally?

"I'll charge you with attempted murder," you said, rolling your eyes at the girl in front of you.

After a while, Ellie's rambles attracted all your focus away from the taste of the tea and the jazz music playing, but you weren't complaining as she was interesting to listen to. The reason she bought a jacket similar to the her other ones was that her gang was organizing a festival, and it was coming soon, she wanted to look brand new. All she needed was to find a local designer to write the name of her gang. The money she had came from her dad and giving guitar lessons, which surprised you; you didn't expect her to be an artist.

A new side of her was shown to you as she kept rambling. You noticed how she scratched her neck every now and then, the way she would speed up her speech when she gets excited, and when she'd stutter a bit when you were keeping eye contact. She stopped talking after realizing she's been the only one talking, but you truthfully didn't mind.

"so when's the last time you killed someone ?" you asked making the girl in front of you confused

Ellie discovered a new side of you too; you were more of a listener than a talker, and for a person like her who likes to ramble, it was a win for her.

"I said I'm from a gang, not that I'm a local serial killer," Ellie explained. The Ellie you would have just met would have answered defensively, but her tone was rather sarcastic. She was bearable when she didn't take everything personally.

It was true that many gangs out there have blood on their hands, killing their opponents but also innocent citizens. But Ellie didn't share the same values and joined a gang you've never heard of before.

"I joined Dina's gang after trying to run away from home. I didn't know how to fight at the time; she taught me everything. I owe it all to her." The more you talked, the more questions you had. The conversation easily switched from carefree to serious.

The deadly gangs you would hear about were the ones targeted by Ellie's gang, which is motivated by values of respect and loyalty rather than free violence. That is why you've never heard of it, because most gangs are like the ones your father was once in.

This also explains why ellie is still following you around helping you to find your stolen purse,but this also makes you wonder....

"why did you run away?"

Suddenly, Ellie realized she had been oversharing quite a lot, but it's not her fault that you have such a trusting aura!

Getting better at reading Ellie, you realized you touched a sensitive subject and looked away from her, back at your now-empty cup of tea, trying to change the subject. "i'm still wondering though..." You recalled the letter you received from Ellie, the one with childlike writing.

"how did you discover where I live?" You didn't forget how Ellie mentioned she would meet you at your house instead of you going up to hers, but maybe that's because, in this case, you would have thought it was a trap and you wouldn't come there. You thought about this, but it still doesn't unravel the mystery of her knowing exactly where you live, which was kind of unsettling.

"wasn't hard. I just followed your dad after he was done selling in Tokyo." The casual tone in her answer just made the whole thing even more unsettling. You wondered if it was just the weed and hoped she was lying.

"you mean you stalked my dad?" You asked, hoping you were the one hearing wrong.

"how is that stalking? I just followed him to your house, but not like that..." Ellie tried to explain rationally but made things even worse, confirming you had been hearing perfectly.

"girl, did you drop out of kindergarten? That IS stalking. Why would you do that?" You were absolutely at a loss for words. More confused than upset, you knew Ellie didn't mean to harm anyone, but her way of using rational thinking was still questionable.

Ellie sighed,she didnt know how to explain this while sounding sane"first of all shut up I didnt drop out,I just wanted to know where I could get clothes from him thats all"

thats all ?

"you were literally going to beat me up when I showed up instead of him",you said raising your eyebrows,you werent even upset you just wanted to tease her

"no-omg-okay maybe.. but everything turned out fine"the auburn haired girl stuttered as she scratched her neck again,you noted she'd do this when nervous

"i should call the cops on you wtf"

ellie looked up at you,with a stupid smirk on her face"you need me you cant do that"

You played along, pretending to be upset as you got up and started to leave. However, Ellie felt bad, interpreting your sarcasm as seriousness, and grabbed your arm as she started to apologize for stalking your dad.

"I was just going to pay for the tea," you said, but Ellie got up instead, doing it for you.

You hadn't expected her to take your playful act seriously, but it was kind of hilarious.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

It was true that you needed her help to catch whoever stole your bag. She knew how to fight, and she did look scary to people. You could already imagine the scumbag surrendering and giving back your precious item... but then again, this looked way too easy.

After your tea time and Ellie's smoking session, you went for another round of walking, looking for your purse.

"She's probably wearing a blue frilly dress like you, because your bag is blue. I guess she wanted to match."

"I've never seen another lolita girl in my hometown," you might not have any clues, but you might have a lead.You told Ellie it might be an average mid-30s man who happens to know the worth of your purse but Ellie was reluctant.

However, you finally decided to file a report of your stolen purse to the police, hoping they would do a better job at catching the thief. After doing so, you walked outside where Ellie was leaning on a wall, smoking again. She remained calm despite the fact that you didn't catch the thief.

"You know what? I'm convinced we're living in a simulation, and that none of this is real. We might be aliens sent from Mars, or maybe we're re-experiencing past life memories, or maybe we're just in some deep coma we have to wake up from."

Although you didn't smoke, you seemed more high than Ellie. "never try smoking."

How was she still happy enough to make jokes despite how awful this situation is making you feel?

"maybe its a life lesson,I should stop buying expensive things from now on"

"oh c'mon its really not that deep,you dont like your purse anymore or something?"

"It's not that-"

"if you can buy one you can buy another one",ellie walked up to you after tossing her joint on the floor giving it a few stomps to put out the burn

"do you think money grows on trees or something ?"

Ellie looked you up and down, from your embroidered white headband to your 'Alice and the Pirates' frilly dress and your white platform boots. She didn't see your outfit as just a simple ensemble, but rather a bag full of gold, ready to be converted into money.

"hell no, don't even think about that," you said firmly. No matter how difficult things could get, you would rather be killed than sell any of the clothes you own. It was like reselling Christmas gifts; you grew emotionally attached to those priceless dresses.

"I knew you'd say no. I was just joking," Ellie said before both of you went on to another activity:getting money to buy a similar purse. Cleaning people's shoes, betting on the three shell games, pickpocketing... You realized getting money in Tokyo wasn't that hard, but none of these options appealed to you for now.

You had to find something that would certainly get you money.

Ellie walked beside you, looking around too. You wondered if she was joking around because she was high or just letting her guard down. Either way, you didn't mind her being this way.. She had stopped spitting and approaching you like she was going to headbutt you after you got to know each other better.

"how about this?" ellie stopped and pointed at a building as she looked at you with a smirk

"I have enough trouble as it is, adding more isn't something I'm interested in," you replied. Wasn't it obvious that you've never been into criminal activity before? So why was she thinking about robbing a whole bank?

The sigh that escaped Ellie was one of pure disappointment, though she was half-joking. But that changed once you stopped by an eating contest.

"Spicy food contest, winner gets $100," both you and Ellie read on a large poster placed on a table. A few chairs were arranged around the table, and your eyes followed some people seated in front of a chef's hat. Only two chairs were unoccupied. You looked at Ellie, unsure if she would agree, but she instantly read your mind.

"I've eaten spicy food before, it's no big deal."

Your energy shifted to competitive mode; there was no way you could consider losing, but if you did, you hoped Ellie had your back."what kind of spicy food, though?"

"just trust me, it's a piece of cake," the auburn-haired girl said before stretching her arms and neck as if she was preparing for a fight. She wasn't considering losing either.

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

Already 2 minutes in, Ellie's face was red from the spiciness. The contest consisted of eating a whole plate of different spicy foods under 5 minutes. From noodles to chicken wings, Ellie felt like her tongue was on fire!

Milk wasn't enough to calm down Ellie; she felt like drinking a whole river.

You, on the other hand, were handling it pretty well; your grandma used to give you a bottle of Tabasco to punish you as a kid, so this was nothing compared to what you had experienced.

Maybe pain does make you strong?

"Time's up! Everyone, open your mouth!"

With luck and a little bit of courage, your plate was entirely empty with no crumbs left compared to other contestants. Some even tried to cheat by hiding their food under the table, but it still didn't stop you from winning!

The man who organized the contest congratulated you and rewarded you after cleaning up the table. Ellie looked at you in absolute shock; she also felt kind of humiliated after what she had told you, but at least you got what you came for.

"It's just spicy food, no big deal, yeah?" You couldn't help but tease Ellie about it. The confident look on her face vanished from the moment she started to eat the spicy chicken; she wasn't even looking at you, embarrassed.

"shut up, I was close to beating you." You just laughed at her words; her face was still a bit red from eating. You counted up the money you had, only a few bucks, and you could buy yourself a new purse!

"wanna go for another round then?" The auburn girl stayed silent and responded with a violent side-eye. You understood you had to find another way to get money rather than eating spicy food...

☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°☆°

Ellie convinced you to bet the $100 you won on the three shell game after refusing multiple times. It turns out she didn't lie when she said she was good at seeing through those scams.

"I used to learn magic tricks when I was 10," she told you, and you didn't need to know what for after she got your money doubled up. Only a few bucks were left, and an idea popped up in your mind as you and Ellie kept walking in Tokyo: "why don't you bring your guitar and play here?"

The thought of playing in front of everyone was making Ellie nervous, not because she was bad or anything, but she didn't want to come across a potential enemy of her gang. She had to keep her tough image, especially in the streets.

"uh, I'm still learning, and I never practiced in front of a big crowd," Ellie lied, but you kept insisting.

"come on, are you really that bad? You said you've been playing since you were a child"

Despite your insistence, it didn't have the same effect on Ellie as it had on your dad.

"It doesn't mean I play like a professional; plus, there are many other ways to get money," Ellie kept giving you reasons, but you finally stopped insisting. In fact, you didn't need to get money anymore to buy a new bag...

You finally found it!

Ellie noticed the change in your expression and wondered what was going on, so she followed the direction of your gaze.

There it was, shining bright like a diamond, as blue as the sky, begging to be back in its place. It was an average man with a long beard in his mid-30s, carrying it as he walked in front of you.

Ellie turned her head to look back at you, silently asking, 'Do you want me to take care of him?' But you didn't want to leave this to Ellie. You felt rage building up inside you along with a sense of relief; you had to make him pay.

You ran towards the man who was walking in front of you, hoping to catch him before he disappeared again. The sound of your platform boots approaching made him turn his head in curiosity before you jumped on him. Both of you fell hard to the floor; his head hit the ground while his hands were still clutching your purse.

You snatched it out of his hands, not caring about hurting him. You were more hurt than he was after what he's done. The look of pity on his face made your blood boil. He even had the audacity to reach for your purse again!

"It's mine, you fucking dumbass bitch. Try to ever steal from me again and I'll slit your throat open until you bleed to death. You can have fun stealing other people's bags in hell." You spat on his face after stomping his stomach, releasing all the anger you've been carrying.

This man needed to be humbled.

You've always been told to fight back. If someone hits you, you should hit harder. And if the person hitting you still has the audacity to hurt you, you didn't hit hard enough.

The man finally stopped trying to get back your purse as he was busy spitting blood. You stopped hitting him, considering that was enough karma for him.

You had to let him know you weren't a person to mess with.

Despite your brilliant and cute clothes, a wise soul and a strong character were hidden within, one that despised being bothered.

You walked away from the man, making sure your purse still had your personal belongings, unaware that your scene had attracted the attention of the people around. You approached Ellie, who was once again at a loss for words.

The girl also walked up to you. "how can you even run in those?" She pointed at your shoes.

"practice, I guess," you shrugged your shoulders before taking Ellie's hand. You didn't know where to go, but you definitely didn't want to stay in the eyes of the people who had witnessed you beating up a 30-year-old man.

You began to walk, dragging Ellie with you, but she stopped. "wait."

You were met with confusion and dropped her hand

Was she scared or something?

Ellie was also bad at reading people, but you made things even worse for her. You were like a book with covers that didn't match the atmosphere of the story, but the side of you that you had just shown got her hooked.

Suddenly, you heard the sounds of motorcycles roaring nearby. You had attracted a whole gang!

They were all girls wearing the same jacket as Ellie's, no helmets, no weapons, but they were still radiating an intimidating yet powerful energy. Their motorcycles stopped just behind Ellie, and you felt the girls' intimidating gaze on you. You looked at Ellie, wondering what was happening.

Ellie didn't even need to turn around to know that it was her gang. She kept looking at you.

"why don't you join me?"

#ellie fluff #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #mini series #ellie the last of us #Spotify

[drunktuesdays]

rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better. i was tagged by @cant-not, a woman i am currently learning is a russian nesting doll of blogs

last song: i'm often not cool enough for this kind of question, because the reality is that the actual last song i listened to was "don't take the girl" by tim mcgraw because i was talking to niko vivathewilddog about melodramatic mpreg, and i listened to it five times today. but the last "cool" song i added to my liked songs on spotify was "you just didn't like me that much" by leanna firestone which is legit a great song

last show: hmm....the last show i finished was probably tlou? or interview with a vampire? does that count? i really don't know the difference between this question and the one underneath it. i honestly don't remember the last time i made it to an actual series finale bc tbh i have the attention span of a gnat when it comes to tv, and i WILL abandon things so easy. even things i like......why...

currently watching: i'm usually caught up on yellowjackets, succession, and 911. i've been halfway through abbot elementary, the bear and only murders in the building for months on account of my previously mentioned terrible attention span. i'm also watching lost with the gc for the first time, and i'm having the time of my LIFE.

currently reading: i literally just finished the first fifteen lives of harry august by claire north last night, and i just started the city we became by nk jemesin. i'm also mostly through my annual reread of an insane million word harry potter fic where harry has a twin brother named connor potter, and i cannot explain why i love it, and will not be defending unless you've read it, in which case, PLEASE hop in the dms.

current obsession: i'll echo laura with nyt games--i still play wordle most days, and i also play the mini and tiles. del dadvans got me back into the sims, and i've been working on a [redacted] household i cannot talk about because i've lost my mind. i'm also moving soon, so i guess my number one fandom is looking at apartments i hate and trying to imagine being happy in them..... is that cool.........................

im tagging @vivathewilddog @dadvans @lakemermaids @thevaudevillescene @immoveableobject @eggtrolls @anairbri @onlyposersfallinlove @bropunzeling

#that was so hard...coming up with 9 people.....

[dufrau]

okay bit of a crackpot theory here and idk if this has been asked before but was nancy an asymptomatic carrier in my piece of land? i just reread the series and robins run in with the vines at the start of the apocalypse seemed to have slowly stayed in her system and bit her in the ass later. and nancy in her own origin fic was attacked by vines in the forest and it burned her skin. could it be possible that the upside down disease/illness could of stayed with her but instead of effecting her slowly, it infected other people somehow? did nancy potentially start the apocalypse?? maybe???

Oooh I love this ask so much because it lets me explain my apocalypse in self indulgent (vague) detail!

LORE DROP!

I'll say that wasn't my intention to have Nancy be infected all along, but it did occur to me that it was possible and that it was a possible interpretation people might come to, and I wanted to leave it open to interpretation.

This is why Nancy doesn't have like a tester like they had in the show, because I don't want us to know 100% whether Nancy is a carrier or whether Robin is already a carrier when she gets there.

The outbreak in this AU is meant to be less literal than TLOU. It's not as simple as a zombie apocalypse. It's not as simple as getting bitten, although that will certainly do it. (Also for the record, bitten people turn into demogorgons but like, human sized ones. Not the giant ones from the show. So vaguely clicker levels of dangerous. But there ARE giant ones also. Whether those are people who got bitten a long time ago and grew more monstrous over time or something else entirely is also up for speculation.)

I imagine this outbreak as being more eldritch and unexplainable and more insidious, this is what the descriptions of people's behavior changing is hinting at. A sort of Flaying like in the show, that works slowly or quickly and nobody really knows how, but a connection to the greater hive mind of whatever the Upside Down is in this world that makes people want to feed it, in whatever way. Eventually flayed people will turn, but often they die before that can happen due to their own violence. (This is vaguely inspired by part of the book The Passage.)

I will say, since it's never specified in Into Dust, that Barb was attacked and bitten and dragged into that little pocket of Upside Down, to turn or to be absorbed into the organism of it. To help it grow, one way or another. It was just a little mini outbreak. There were probably others that nobody lived to tell about, or that like Nancy nobody believed them when they tried to tell. The government ABSOLUTELY knew though, by the way, and they covered it up.

I think of the vines as being sort of spore spreaders and incubators, seeking out life to turn and consume. And I think the actual Outbreak Day outbreak happens somewhat similarly to the show where it's the result of a spoilage of some important food staple (not beans, clearly) that some vines got into that results in a sort of mass turning event.

I will say for certain that Nancy does not cause the apocalypse. She's just the first living witness to it. It's brewing, somewhere under the surface, until finally it breaks free. Even if she's infected, she's not contagious in any traditional way.

So maybe Nancy has been infected all along or maybe never at all or maybe she infected herself at any point over the years in all of her chopping and burning of the vines around her property and she's asymptomatic or just hasn't developed symptoms yet. Maybe she's dying too at the end and she just doesn't know it. And Maybe Robin has been infected since the night of the fire, or maybe that happened more recently. And maybe EVERYONE is infected, by now, and they are all just ticking time bombs. Or maybe not.

They don't know, and I think it's a better story if we don't know either. Because if there's one moment you can point to and say "that right there, that's where your fate was sealed, that's when you were doomed" it makes it harder to appreciate the moments after that, which are what really matters in this story IMO.

Thank you so much for this ask!

#fishvibes? #ronance #ronance tlou bill & frank au #LORE DROP #this was so much fun to answer tbh #asks

[dilf-din]

❀ masterlist ❀

My blog is always safe for minors! I don’t post/interact with smut!

Safe Place to Land — Frankie Morales x reader (ongoing)

Masterlist

The Last of Us

Masterlist

Joel Miller

Daisy, Give Me an Answer — (Joel x f!reader)

Do-Si-Do — (Joel x f!reader) (pre outbreak)

The Mandalorian

The Betrayal — (Din x gn!reader)

Silver Spring — (Din x gn!reader)

Drunk Din — (Din x gn!reader)

Come to Bed — (Din x f!reader)

Feel it in My Body (Know it in My Mind) — (Din x gn!reader)

Suddenly — Din x florist!reader COMPLETE

Chapter 1: Spring

Chapter 2: Summer

Chapter 3: Autumn

Chapter 4: Winter

Poe Dameron

Snowfall — (Poe x f!reader)

Mini series:

Emergency Contact — (Poe x f!reader) part 1

Hand Under my Sweatshirt, Baby Kiss it Better — (Poe x f!reader) part 2

Rogue One — When All the Ash Settles

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Rebelcaptain — COMPLETE MASTERLIST

Running From The Daylight (Vampire!Jyn)

Tethered (to The Story We Must Tell) (RCSS ‘23)

When You Call, I Come Running (febuwhump ‘24)

Let Down Your Guard, Lover (Open Your Door) (fluffbruary ‘24)

Love me Tender (Drabble)

The Bear

Forever Winter (If You Go) — (Carmy x f!reader)

YEEHAWGUST — TLOU, Rogue One, The Mandalorian

Masterlist

Luke Skywalker

Luke x reader (bed sharing prompts)

#about me #masterlist

[sunglassesmish]

over on twitter they had the same idea regarding tlou s2. but jensen said it (whatever that is) would start on his birthday and it would raise more questions. did i remember that correctly? s2 of tlou isn't starting anytime soon i'd say it's just misha's tags on instagram, he really went all in, tagging writers, producers, developers, and it's on hbo and that was always jensen's go to for his spn mini series... will jensen ever react? god, this man drives me nuts. 😫

jensen said the announcement would be made on his birthday if i remember correctly and i saw an article from about 20 minutes ago about how season 2 was greenlit so it’s weird timing…. i’m just extremely clowning but if i’m right i’m gonna just put on my blog that whatever i say comes true 😆

#anon #ask

[thelightsandtheroses]

Congratulations on your 1 year anniversary Lolabee! 🖊 May I ask how you got into writing your first fic for the Pedro fandom? ❤️

Hi Cee, thank you so much for taking part in my sleepover!

This is a great question …

So I lurked in the fandom for about a month before setting up my tumblr and then about another month or so before I started to write anything. I had been thinking about writing something for Joel from the moment I started watching TLOU and it just grabbed me and sent me into that Pedro state of mind, I mean how could I not?

On a more serious note, I’d been suffering from a lot of writer’s block and anxiety and so writing again, even just having ideas, was huge for me.

My first fic was called Into the Fire which was a Joel fic and the idea behind it was that Joel wasn’t the only one who ends up ‘losing someone’ to the Fireflies so it’s about Joel and the reader connecting after their respective siblings leave the QZ with the fireflies. I liked the idea of this shared experience bringing them together and this similarity, but also the differences, between them.

There was a *lot* of backstory and subplots in my head that I didn’t feel confident enough to write at the time but ended up as Your Hand In Mine with a different setting (Jackson not the QZ, etc. but if you read between the lines and know the YHIM backstory you can see hints at elements of that) and I did end up extending the fic into a mini series with a few other standalone but linked oneshots.

Lolabee’s 1 Year of Fic Celebration

#fuckyeahdindjarin #lolabee’s 1 year of fic sleepover