#emotions are just another tool to be used in this system

[maagicmushies]

Naruto is a bad ninja. That's like baby’s first Naruto criticism. This is supposed to be a manga about ninja, yet its main character is a loudmouth clad in bright orange who has never even heard of the word subtlety. There are even large stretches of the manga where he is one of the weakest main characters, so he’s even failing at the manga’s specific definition of a ninja. He is just horrible at it. But one thing that I never hear a lot of people mention is that Naruto is a bad ninja by design, he needs to be.

The Land of Waves Arc serves two main functions. The first is easing the reader or viewer into the world of shinobi on a very “scientific” level. You learn what chakra is, what the three main types of jutsu are, what chakra control is, how ninja rank works, what kekkei genkai is and so on and so forth. Everything that would be in a textbook to be studied by entry level ninja is in this arc. The second function is a look into the world of shinobi on a more “ideological” level in the second half. Ninja take on jobs, but rarely do they take on jobs for other ninja. They mainly take on jobs for local feudal lords or crime lords who wish to use these strengths for political purposes. In this way, Naruto’s ninja are sorta like mercenaries. Ninja are expected to kill the people who they have culture and shared experiences with for the sake of people who really couldn't care less about them. Their intelligence is their most valued aspect and emotions can compromise that so a trained ninja can’t even cry. As Zabuza says, a ninja is just a tool to be used by their employer and anyone who cannot do that, is a bad ninja.

One of the most genius things about this arc is that almost every named ninja we see ends up breaking a vital rule of the ninja code. Haku and Sasuke sacrifice their lives for loved ones, compromising their mission in the process while Sakura, Naruto and Zabuza are reduced to blubbering crying messes by the end. They all failed at being ninja because to be a ninja is to cast away your humanity, something that isn’t really possible. By the end of the first arc, the series has planted the idea that being a ninja isn’t something to be desired. Ninjutsu and throwing stars are cool, but this ideal of a “real” ninja is so cynical and cold that anyone who could pull it off perfectly would be as miserable as they are abhorrent. Trust me, we’ll get back into that. The arc ends with Naruto deciding that he’ll find his own ninja way. A way to be a ninja that is not synonymous with pain and cruelty.

Following the Land of Waves we go to the Chunin Exams, the stock tournament arc of the series. One thing that sets Naruto’s tournament arc apart from a more standard one is that winning isn’t the primary goal. Anyone who has watched the show or read the manga might say “Of course winning isn’t the primary goal, Shikamaru lost, yet was the only Konoha genin to promote”, but becoming Chunin isn’t even the main goal of the Chunin exams. The main goal of the Chunin Exams is to show off a nation’s talent, both as an advertisement to would-be employers and as a flex to rival villages to show what they have in store for them if they try to start a war. It was created as a form of deterrence, a ninja equivalent to broadcasting a video of your nation’s rocket capabilities. Ironically, this “mock war” ends up turning into a real war as Orochimaru uses it as a smoke screen for his real invasion. Naruto comes into the exams pretty unprepared as a fighter, but very prepared emotionally. He speaks to the demons inside of Neji and Gaara, desperately wanting to ease the pain that they’re going through. He can’t stand the idea of losing them, just like he lost haku so he talks to them like they’re people and not weapons and it resonates. The two would end up becoming lifelong friends with Naruto as a result and it had jack shit to do with his skill as a ninja. He succeeded with them because he was a person to them.

The Search for Tsunade arc is not too important for this analysis, but does introduce an idea that will become important later where Jiraiya purports that a real ninja is “one who endures”. This isn’t just fancy waffling but how the literal kanji for the word “ninja” can be broken down. That’s why, in Jiraiya’s eyes, being a ninja is not about being the most efficient or knowing the most jutsu. It’s about never giving up even when everyone else wants you to. It is what he has done his entire life and what he teaches Naruto to do. However, this is far from the only interpretation of “one who endures”. Sasuke’s flashbacks of how he remembers Itachi is massively important to our understanding of ninja because Itachi is the perfect ninja. Remember that “One Who Endures” thing? Yeah, Itachi takes that to the extreme because he thinks that it is a viable path for a shinobi to be hated by all. If that lets them do their job to the best of their ability, so be it. That’s why he handles the Uchiha coup like he does. He becomes hated by his entire village, the entire world and hated most of all by the person he loved the most. But Itachi got his job done. He did it so well that no one ever knew he was doing a job at all.

If Itachi is what lies at the end of all shinobi, if all of them got to be "perfect", we’d have entire clans and communities getting slaughtered by well meaning people just wishing to prolong the existence of the village by a couple of years. Itachi’s partner Kisame has a very similar backstory. In fact, you could argue that all of the Akatsuki are perfect shinobi. All young prodigies who were allowed to exercise cruelty because that’s what their job called for and simply got cut off by the people who weren’t able to handle the monsters that they created. It’s no coincidence that this group of ninja who were all able to be better ninja at the cost of their humanity all show some form of body horror or inhumanity in their design.

This pertains most to Sasori, one of the main villains of the Kazekage Rescue Arc. Sasori was clearly traumatized but no one in the sand cared because he was able to channel that trauma into his incredible skill with puppet ninjutsu. And then when he became more and more broken over time, creating human puppets and assassinating Kazekage, they tried to act as if they had no hand in that. However, just like Zabuza and Gaara before him, Sasori could not fully discard his humanity. He tried to replace so much of his human body with puppetry but he was never able to get rid of his heart, poetically. The same goes for Sai in the next arc, who has been trained from birth to kill off all individuality. Even before his big turn, Sai constantly laments over the fact that despite trying so hard, he can never get anyone to truly like him. It’s natural that as humans we crave connection and want to love. The more you try to act like this is a lie, the more you end up like a Sai. And no one likes Sai.

A similarly unlikable character would be Kakashi during the events of Kakashi Gaiden. Another ninja capable of putting the job above all his personal connections and he constantly disrespects his friends and own father. Sakumo Hatake was incredibly strong, but far from the perfect ninja I’ve been describing. He decided to abandon a mission partway, which saved his allies but inconvenienced his employer. The derision he faced was enough for him to commit suicide. In Kakashi’s eyes, his father was a coward, but to Kakashi’s best friend Obito? Sakumo was a hero. He might have been a bad ninja, but if caring about people you love makes you a bad ninja, then good ninja do not need to exist. Obito holds this opinion not as a villain, but as a rather heroic child with shocking similarities to Naruto. When he later fights Naruto, Naruto ends up appealing to Obito by empathizing with his beliefs about the ninja world. It sucks! His best friend’s life was ruined by a “perfect” ninja, he spent his entire life being hated and used because the ninja code for Jinchuriki was to roll them out as weapons during war time and then shamefully hide them during peacetime. Naruto knows why Obito would want to tear it down because he also wants to. They just have differing methods of how to.

The same goes for Sasuke when he rises up to become the final villain of the series. Sasuke recognizes the poison on the ninja world, what it does to people like him, his brother his best friend, Hashirama and Madara, every ninja in existence. That is why he wishes to forge a new path, killing off the ruling class and uniting all against him. It’s essentially what Itachi did, but on a global scale. Sasuke’s plan is bad and fails because it relies on embracing a ninja truth and the antithesis of the series - severing one’s bonds. Every single arc time and time again we come to learn that this idea of “severing bonds” does not work, it cannot work. The pit of loneliness you’re left in will kill you or warp you to a point where you’re no longer human. Naruto’s answer is forming an unbreakable bond between all people. Disrespecting and blurring the artificial line between class, between village, between civilian and ninja. The Great Naruto Bridge from the Land of Waves is a little cheesy, but emblematic of his final role in the story. Through his kindness he becomes able to link all together and he didn’t do this by being a good ninja. He did it by being a pretty bad one.

[sukibenders]

comfort and care

FEATURING: percy jackson x reader

summary: for the past few days, you've been noticing a change in percy's demeanor as of late. from the bags gathering under his eyes from lack of sleep to his more irritable nature, everything had screamed "wrong" to you. in your attempts to find some resolve, you set out to find ways to tend to his needs.

contents: sad!percy, poor boy is struggling (specifics aren't mentioned) and needs comfort, fluff, angst, mentions of lack of personal care (such as poor sleep and struggling emotional health), percy not being kind to himself (dismissing his feelings), concerned!reader, cute couple moments, reader takes care of percy, mentions of cooking but can easily be ignored or altered if you can't cook, percy calling you babe, i hope percy doesn't seem ooc in this.

note" thank you so much to everyone who showed support to my first percy x reader, as that really warmed my heart. this one came to mind when i thought about how little x reader imagines there are that involve percy receiving comfort and felt like our boy needed someone to be able to vent to. ergo, this came to be. hope you enjoy!

You first noticed it during one of your weekly Iris Messaging calls with Percy, a familiar routine the two of you had come up with when you both had to leave camp to return to your respective household during the school season. It had helped ease the long-distance separation, considering demigods weren't allowed electronic devices such as phones with the risk of drawing the attention of monsters, and allowed for you both to speak for hours and hours without worrying about racking up on a phone bill. It was a bonus that it allowed you to see one another, especially now.

While it was evident that Percy was attempting to hide any signs of fatigue, you had known him well enough to see past the feeble attempts and hesitantly brought the issue forward. "You look tired," you had said, eyes scanning over his frame through the hazy messaging system. "When was the last time that you slept?"

At the question, Percy let out a soft laugh, waving his hand in dismissal. "C'mon, babe, let's not weigh down our talk with boring stuff like my sleep schedule. Wouldn't you like to focus on something more interesting?"

To which you retorted. "I would like focus on making sure that my boyfriend is doing okay, taking care of himself. That would interest me just fine."

The inky haired boy let out a small sound that rumbled in the back of his throat, taking in your words and the unwavering concern in your gaze. A part of him practically leaned towards you (or more so you image), wanting to seek you out for as much comfort as he could gain. But another, more darker part of him, had drew him to a halt and left his previous wants to plunder into nothing more than wants rather than needs.

"It's nothing, really." Lie. "I've just been stressed with school is all." Another lie, well, partially. "You know I'm not the sharpest tool in the box." He was attempting to be humorous, in hopes of drawing away your concern on to something else. It didn't work.

Your burrows narrowed in a way he'd only seen when you get protective over things that you care about, and being on the receiving end of that look made him wince. "Don't be so hard on yourself," you said with a stern tone. "Besides, I don't like it when people insult my boyfriend. He's a genius in his own ways."

"Even when it's me?"

"Especially when it's you." A part of you warmed slightly when you notice a glint of gratitude sparkle in the inky haired boy's eyes at your defense, even if it was from his own self. But, even with that, it did little to provide any solution to the dilemma at hand as Percy had used quick thinking to find a way of branching to a new subject that, before you knew it, left little room for you to return to your concerns before you both had to call it a night.

That didn't mean that this problem was over, nor would your attempts to fix it be hindered.

It would seem so that you weren't the only one to notice Percy's shift as most of your friends had noticed it too. From Annabeth, who was ready to report any of her findings discovered during the pairs talks with one another to you or other members of the Seven dropping casual hints of concern (Jason had mentioned that he noticed Percy's hands tremble whenever they would drag across his face, Leo had noted that his jokes---which were usually funny---had either fallen flat or gave a vibe of uneasiness, Hazel had commented on the way his smile no longer reached his eyes and so on). You had used your family phone to call Sally who at the time was nowhere near Percy, thankfully, and had nearly broken down to you over the phone about her worries. She had done the best she could, but she was only one person.

It didn't take you long to formulate a plan, all that was needed was a way of travel to the Jackson's residence. It was lucky for you that a certain son of Hades had been open to the idea of helping as he dropped you off via shadow travel in front of the apartment complex. After a thanks of gratitude, the di Angelo boy left with saying "Tell Percy that I hope he gets better" before disappearing into the shadows.

You had already informed Sally and Paul of your plan, and the two had readily abided by it by taking Estelle on a trip around the city, leaving you and Percy to have some alone time. By the time you had gotten to your destination, a sudden bundle of nerves had crept their way inside you as you waited for Percy to open the door. What if he didn't want you here? What if it only made him more upset? What if you being here simply did nothing at all?

All your thoughts were put on hold when the boy himself threw open the door, a look of surprise marking his features as he took you in, as if trying to determine whether you were really there or not.

"Surprise!" You had said with hopefully enthusiasm, a conscious smile painting your face as you waited for a response.

Instead of words, a pair of strong arms circled you and pulled you into a muscular chest, body molding around yours as two became one in a matter of seconds. "You're here." Percy mumbled, though more as a statement than surprise even though your sudden appearance was one for sure.

"Of course I am, babe." You smiled into his chest, rubbing your hands up and down his back in a way that you hoped would bleed all the love and comfort from your heart that you wished give.

It didn't take long for him to pull you in to the shelter of his apartment, and even less before the two of you reached his bedroom. You both had fallen on to his bed, laying side by side facing one another with a little distance to allow you to look into each other's eyes. It was moments like these were almost anything in the world could be happening, right outside the window even, and neither of you would care. All that would matter would be the warmth of your bodies pressed together, fingers interlocking in a complex hold that neither of you wanted to be freed from, and the mingling of your even breaths dancing with one another in the faintly lit room.

"I wished you told me that you were coming. I would've cleaned up a bit." Percy joked, waving a hand in the direction towards his mess of a room before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

You let out snort, raising your hand to card your fingers through his messy locs. A smile pulled on your lips at the soft mewl that emitted from your boyfriend before he ducked his face into your neck. "I don't mind, I think my happiness at seeing you might overpower some of my observation skills."

Percy hummed. "Maybe I'm in luck then." You could tell that he was attempting to divert the conversation again, already knowing the reason for your abrupt visit. And a part of you was almost inclined to do so, wrapped in the comfort of your lover's embrace, physically after weeks of Iris Messages that left you only wanting more. But this social visit wasn't for you. As much as you wanted to lounge around all day, hearing Percy rattle off details of his days away or a spiel of jokes that would be sure to make you laugh.

But now was not the time.

"Percy," You whisper softly after a moment, thumb rubbing against the junction where his neck met his shoulders. He shivered, whether at the movement or your voice as the question he had been awaiting. "I've known you for a long time, like you've known me, and I can tell when something is wrong. Just as you would for me. And you and I both know that something is wrong. You haven't been yourself lately."

Percy didn't speak. His face remained hidden in your neck.

"You don't have to tell me right now as I won't force you. But I just want you to know that I'm here, and so are the others...if you ever want or need..." you pause, your hand stopping in its movements down his spine when you felt his body tremble beside you. "Percy?"

Labored breathing turned into harsh, muffled sobs that shook your heart with each one. Percy's usually tall frame clung to you as he pressed his face further into your neck, if that was even possible, littering the skin with a river of tears. The more he tried to speak, as if believing he had to explain himself, the more his words were choked by the sobs. You simply held him closer, pulling his body further into yours and caressing him from his back to his neck to scalp and back again, whispering comforting phrase from one's of love to one's of reassurance.

"It's all right," you whispered as he shook, running your nose along his temple. "You've been holding this in for a long time and now it's time to let it out. I've got you."

You both stayed like that until Percy's tears had run dry, until his heavy sobs turned into weak hiccups until his body stopped shaking and his breathing evened into one accompanied by an eased sleep. His body fell lacks at your side, his breaths tickling your skin every now and again. The collar of your shirt was dampened from Percy's tears, but you paid it no mind as you carded your fingers through his hair, soothing him even in his sleep because it was what he needed. What he deserved.

A thought had popped into your head when you felt your stomach growl in attention, your hunger taking focus as you realized, after looking at the clock on the bedside, how much time had past since between your arrival and now. Raising to your feet, taking precautions not to wake the sleeping boy, you slipped out of the room and towards the kitchen. Sally had been kind enough to offer to cook something before leaving, but you had simply offered to make something instead and leave one less thing for her to worry about.

You were an hour or so into cooking, the scents floating into the air and clouding throughout the apartment, when you heard hurried footsteps making their way down the hall. Glancing over your shoulder you watched as Percy slid into the room, his appearance ruffled from sleep but his eyes wide and alert as they scanned the room, searching for something. Or someone, more like it, as they stopped when they landed on you.

It seems as if a weight had left his shoulders as they dropped, no longer tense, and he easily made his way towards you. You were in his arms in less than a second, his face pressed into your hair as he breathe in deeply. "I almost thought it was all a dream. You being here."

You hummed, smiling into his arm. "Glad that I'm not?"

"You have no idea." You stood like that for a few moments, occasionally rocking back and forth to keep blood flowing through your legs when Percy spoke again. "Thank you. Thank you for...for..."

But you shushed him, shaking your head as you met his eyes. No words needed to be said, and he understood. His gaze drifted over to the assemble littering the kitchen counter with a raised brow. "Anything that I can help with?"

"Think you can handle it?"

This caused him to snort. "Please, I was raised by the Sally Jackson, learning how to cook was a given." He cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders confidently, moving closer the counter. "Now, chef, tell me what we're working with."

"Yes, chef!"

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

I love your lyrics critics!! absolutely love to see you tear apart T Swifts "genius writing"

here's a line that deeply bothered me from her new album

"I was a functioning alcoholic until nobody notices my new aesthetic"

bc like. yeah she probably is an alcoholic, from what we've seen but. treating alcoholism, addiction, mental health issues etc like an "aesthetic" is EXACTLY the kind of shit she does (literally seems to be what her chosen "aesthetic" for TTPD is) and it's so disgusting I'm shaking

Yeah- I am not sure Taylor Swift really understands the severity of the themes with which she plays.

The line "I was a functioning alcoholic until nobody notices me new aesthetic" just screams attention-seeking behavior. Not that it is a new phenomenon for Swift to be attention-seeking at all times, but I do worry about it.

Not to mention the broader context around that quote is :

I was supposed to be sent away But they forgot to come and get me I was a functioning alcoholic 'Til nobody noticed my new aesthetic All of this to say I hope you're okay But you're the reason And no one here's to blame But what about your quiet treason? ("Fortnight" 2024).

The surrounding use of "to be sent away" meaning that she was supposed to be forcibly institutionalized, and then "they forgot to come and get me" makes no coherent sense. She is saying that they were going to institutionalize her, until, what? They forgot?

Who is "they" and why did "they forget" the line goes nowhere in the song- and never reconnects with any thematic purpose or imagist-esque impression, thus rendering it incoherent. It's completely unconnected from the rest of the narrative- it's just sloppy writing.

Not to mention the first four lines are a guilt trip- saying, essentially, " I am mentally unwell, and it is your fault, I am an alcoholic, and it is your fault" but then pivoting into "but I'm so glad to see that you're okay"

This is the same conceit as her "Picture to Burn" (2006) and "Mr. Perfectly Fine" (2021). She can't even think of anything more original than the classic break-up fake-sadness-turned-gulit-trip trope.

It's an answer, too, to her song "Long Story Short" (2020).

But what I really want to talk about is the last line reading "But what about your quiet treason?"

In the word treason- she is essentially stating that her partner has betrayed her in some spectacular way- rendering the antecedent lines all the more sinister. She is saying that her mental and physical well-being is the responsibility of the other person, thus when she falls apart and they are to blame- it is a treasonous act. They were supposed to be the thing that "fixed" her, or "held her together." This is a poisonous message- it's a guilt trip.

Partners can be emotional support systems yes- but the way she writes this song fully objectifies the other person, as she never includes the other perspective in the song, it has the effect of rendering the other voiceless- furthering their objectification, stripping them of personal autonomy. The partner Swift is singing about becomes nothing more than her emotional crutch- that has failed to do what tools-like a crutch- are supposed to do. I just think there is something so odd about both claiming sever alcoholism, and throwing a bit of a pity-fit, while she is also clearly stripping another person of autonomy, and blaming them for running away from her, all in the same breath.

Like that song gives me a headache- not because it's sonically awful, but because it's told from the perspective of an abusive person.

[dykemcqueen]

not the person who sent the ask that received these tags but... i too am a lover of egotistical asshole self sabotaging suicidal codependent protags. tell more about bartimaeus?

THE BARTIMAEUS TRILOGY by jonathan stroud is the greatest fantasy series for children ever written. it takes place in an alternate history london where magicians make up the ruling class. as was once true in real life, england is a massive colonial power with a baseless aristocracy that brutally oppresses the working class. the "commoners" believe that magicians have inherent power, but secretly all magicians are just educated in the art of summoning and controlling spirits (hatefully referred to by humans as "demons"). all western magicians of this period punish and abuse spirits into doing what they want, no exception, as has been the case in many places and in many time periods over the years. the spirits are just invisible, giving the magicians the illusion of power.

the series is about 3 people: nathaniel, a traumatized adolescent boy who rapidly starts sacrificing his morals for power and prestige in the cutthroat world of the magic elite; bartimaeus, an ancient all-powerful djinni that nathaniel relies on to do his dirty work; and kitty jones, a commoner whose friend is brutalized by a magician who is never brought to justice. it's actually also about a fourth person who died thousands of years ago, but that's a surprise tool that will help us later.

the story is about how these 3 lives intersectin a decade of political turmoil, as the commoners' oppression becomes untenable and foreign governments sick of the british empire's power seek to exploit its growing weaknesses. it's about how the power-hungry oligarchy cannibalizes itself, and how external political, cultural, and social forces shape the characters and their relationships.

it's about trauma and power and justice. it's about oppression and freedom and classism and colonialism and the many purposeful lies inherent in the system you believe you can't change (*cough* capitalism *cough*). it's about how connection to another person can change you. it's about recognizing who the real enemy is.

it's also, if you would believe it, riotously, insanely funny, mostly because bartimaeus—who narrates about 50% of it—is a sarcastic, irreverent drama queen who can never shut the hell up. he's been alive for 5000 years and he's made it this far by being avoidant and self-serving and bitchy and lucky. he thinks he's hot shit and he kind of is, but he's mostly just driven by a need to survive. he and nathaniel are friends but also not really. nathaniel is both scared of him and scared to lose him, and the series ultimately centers on their relationship, the wariness and abuse and dependence, and the way it changes as nathaniel changes. nathaniel also does go through severe depression, for that anon who was asking about lockwood.

the bartimaeus trilogy is tightly, deftly written, and one of the only kids' series that i think 100% holds up without caveats. there's a great balance of action, emotion, humor, character development, and plot, and the worldbuilding is insane—it's very smart and never overexplains anything. i can't recommend it enough. every character is written with such care and realism by a writer who Knows How to Write. it's so, so good. every fantasy fan should read it imo.

[fragmented-sike]

A Lifeline for DID/OSDD: The Journal that could Change your Life

Hey guys! We're incredibly excited to share something that's finally been released for a month now: the Pieces in Peace Journal. This journal isn't just another project for us-it's resource born out of necessity and a deep understanding of what it means to live with Dissociative Identity Disorder and Other Specified Dissociative Disorder. And to celebrate a month of being launched, we're hosting a GIVEAWAY where two (2) lucky winners will receive a copy of the journal along with free lifetime updates to the journal!

Why we created the Journal

Living with DID/OSDD can feel incredibly overwhelming. When I was first diagnosed, I felt so alone. I felt like a freak. I felt isolated and scared and confused. This is why I got online and found community here to begin with. The daily challenges of managing different parts of yourself, tracking moods, tracking time-loss, dealing with memory gaps, and trying to explain your experiences to others can make life feel chaotic and confusing. I've personally navigated these complexities for close to a decade now, as I was diagnosed nearly 8 years ago, and I know firsthand how difficult it can be to find the right tools and resources to help make sense of it all.

Access to care is a major issue for so many of us. Whether it's due to financial barriers, lack of knowledgeable therapists, or simply not knowing where to turn, many people with DID/OSDD struggle to find the support they need. That's why I created the Pieces in Peace Journal-to offer a comprehensive, supportive resource that can be used alongside therapy or as a standalone tool for those who don't have access to regular treatment. I consulted with DID specialists and took tools from my own extensive treatment history to create this resource to offer the community.

This journal is designed to help you navigate the multifaceted nature of DID and OSDD, providing structure and clarity amidst what can sometimes feel like chaos. It's a tool for self-discover, emotional regulation, and system collaboration-a way to bring a sense of peace and understanding to your journey.

In the Journal you will find:

Post-Regulation Tracker: Track your feelings and progress after using regulation techniques for better self-awareness.

Communication Log: Record interactions between alters to enhance system communication and understanding.

Distress Tolerance Plan: Quick steps and techniques to manage and reduce distress effectively.

System Collab Goals: Set and track collaborative goals within your system for cohesive growth and progress.

These sections, along with MANY others (over 100 pages!!), are designed to support you in understanding and managing your system. They're tools to help you keep track of your progress, set goals, and ensure that everyone in your system is working together toward common goals.

Why the Journal Matters:

This journal isn't just a collection of pages-it's a lifeline for those who feel lost in the complexities of DID and OSDD. Each section is thoughtfully crafted to address the unique challenges that come with living with a dissociative disorder.

How to Enter the Giveaway:

To celebrate the one month launch of the Pieces in Peace Journal, we're hosting a giveaway! Here's how you can enter:

Check out the Giveaway post on IG for ALL the details on entering. Reblogging here counts as an extra entry!

This giveaway is open internationally and ends on August 20, 2024

Thank you so much to everyone who has supported us over the many years we've been on Social Media. We used to have a tumblr under the name FrgmntdPsyche that we deleted many years ago, however we are back now and plan on staying. Thank you to all of you who have had interest in the Pieces in Peace Journal and have supported us in it's creation and release! We truly appreciate every one of you and hope this journal becomes a valuable companion on your journey.

Stay tuned as we continue to work on making more resources for people across many spectrums (CPTSD, Chronic Illness/Pain, ADHD, and more!), host more giveaways, and help as best we can to give back to an incredible community who has saved our life on more than one occasion. Join our Discord for even more support and a great little cozy community of amazing people!

[misty-metropolis]

People with complex dissociative disorders often have difficulty processing or expressing emotions. This can look like any number of things. For example:

Emotions being dramatically dissociated into individual parts, such that a host part feels limited to no emotion, but there exists another part who does nothing but cry, and a part who feels such incandescent rage that they are unable to function properly

Emotions being muted and difficult to parse from each other; alexithymia stemming from trauma / abuse

Emotions being largely dissociated, with random bursts of emotion that are scary and overwhelming

Emotions being very sharp and present, but jumbled and often in combination with each other. This may create an impression of being flaky, fickle, or difficult to please

Emotions cycling too rapidly to properly identify them or process how they are affecting individual parts or the system at large

This is a non-exhaustive list. Feel free to add on your own experiences.

For those who are interested, I also have some resources for emotion regulation, as well as some free strategies shared by my therapist, under the cut.

First, I know this has been said before but it really does work wonders, you need to pay attention to your vulnerability factors. Vulnerability factors are elements of your environment or internal experience that make it more difficult to self-regulate. A somewhat common community term for these is forks (in relation to the spoon theory). Common vulnerability factors include lack of sleep, hunger, and needing to use the restroom. Adequately caring for your body's physical needs allows for more complete emotion regulation and more energy to go toward emotion processing when it's needed. If you are sleep deprived, for example, and then become triggered, you're already expending so much energy just to maintain functionality that you're less likely to be able to prevent yourself from doing something you'll regret, like snapping at a partner.

I'm also happy to provide an overview of a few emotion regulation tools from Dialectical Behavioral Therapy.

Positive Psychology has a set of three emotional intelligence worksheets (link) that are a good jumping-off point for exploring where you're at in that regard and strengthening your emotional intelligence skills. The emotion regulation questionnaire (link) is a clinical tool that can also provide some insight.

First, there's the STOP skill. STOP stands for Stop, Take a Step Back, Observe, and Proceed Mindfully.

When you feel overwhelmed by your emotions, or think they may be at risk of controlling you, force yourself to freeze in place. This prevents you from acting impulsively and doing something you'll regret. Try to name the emotion(s) you're feeling as descriptively as possible.

Then take a step back and give yourself some time to contemplate the situation with a little space from it. It's not often that you have to make a split-second decision based on limited information, so don't try to force yourself to do so.

Take in as much information as you can about the events taking place around you. Ask questions of other people in the situation with you. Try not to jump to conclusions, or listen to your automatic negative thoughts, which are based on an outdated belief system.

Use questions like "what are my goals in this situation?" and "how can my decisions impact the outcome?" to guide your decision-making process as you proceed.

Then there's the Opposite Action skill. This is the one that I use the most in my daily life, as a person with Borderline Personality Disorder. Opposite Action encourages you to reject the impulses you feel when you experience a strong emotion, and to instead do something that is the opposite of that. A few examples (mostly dealing with anger, because that's where I use this skill the most):

When I feel frustrated or angry with a console video game, I want to throw the controller, so the opposite action I choose is to press the buttons very gently and deliberately, without force. (Consequently, I also notice more success when I do this!)

When I feel angry with my partner's behavior, I want to yell at xem or say something that will hurt xem, so the opposite action that I choose is to gently explain my feelings and ask them to explain what happened from their perspective.

When I feel ashamed of something that has happened to me, I want to isolate and hide from the world, so the opposite action I choose is to share my feelings (and the event, if I feel capable) with someone I trust and love.

The last skill I want to overview is Cope Ahead. This is a skill in which you practice ahead of time to figure out how you'll deal with a situation when it arises.

Step 1: Identify a situation that may cause you discomfort or strong emotions. I generally prefer to be more on the vague side, because details will vary and that allows me to get more mileage out of my cope ahead, but you should do it however is most helpful for you. Make sure you check the facts and carefully identify the emotions that might arise and interfere with your skills.

Step 2: Pick out your coping and problem-solving skills ahead of time. This is where Cope Ahead gets its name. You identify a situation and then decide in advance how you're going to react to it, allowing yourself to rehearse the possibilities and decrease the chances of acting impulsively*.

Step 3: Imagine yourself in the situation. Picture yourself going through it in the first person, not as though you're watching a film about yourself.

Step 4: Rehearse your reactions to the situation and any strong emotions it may bring up. Rehearse your thoughts and behaviors. Practice coping effectively until you feel like you can ace it. Do this in as many sessions as you need.

Step 5: REST! Do something that brings you peace to care for yourself after each session.

*Impulsive behavior is something with which many people with BPD struggle, and DBT was originally developed to treat BPD, despite its applications in other fields.

Sources:

DBT Tools (link)

Positive Psychology (linked above)

My therapist (can't link that one, sorry)

Also, I've taken DBT twice through and am licensed to teach it.

[sunnkix]

System tips! (Anti-Endos DNI)

How do I tell if I’m a system?

Okay, so! It can help to find out more about how different systems work, Pluralpedia on fandom wiki (I know, I know…) is a really great resource and it can really help to look at different system consciousness types, different levels of blurriness, etc. There are also absolutely some system symptoms, here are just a few I don’t really see many people mentioning:

- Making different accounts on social medias, chat apps, etc which interact with your friends and one another, especially if they have distinct mannerisms

- Being able to get into conversations with yourself

- Having conflicting ideas, pet peeves, etc

One really great tip is to just… try out the label and treat yourself like a system for a bit. This is what helped us figure it out! Another tip is to sort of talk to yourself internally for a bit. No, seriously! Like, ask a question in your head, for example; “What’s your name?” “What pronouns do you use?” et cetera! You hear a response, you’re probably a system! There’s more tips about this online that you can find, I’m not too experienced with this. Lol

I think I’m a system, now what?

The first thing you’ll probably want to do is to get the basics down. Get a count of how many headmates/alters you have. Have everyone write down basic info about themselves, name, pronouns, etc. You can do this on paper, but there’s also a really helpful mobile app called Simply Plural, it’s an organization tool.

Stay away from anti endo spaces, very important! It’s best to keep to the spaces that are explicitly pro endo and to stay away from the spaces that don’t give any disclosure as to where they stand.

Whatever you want to do! If you’d like, you could just relax for a bit with your new(ish) internal friends.

How do I communicate with nonverbal alters/headmates?

I’m adding this here because this was a question we had back in the day that we couldn’t find an answer to. Nonverbal peeps have all sorts of different ways of communicating, just like nonverbal singlets! Sometimes they can beam emotions at others, sometimes it’s physical sensations. They can probably write if you can bring them into front, so that’s also an option!

[chaisshitposts]

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 & 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐀 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

hello there! welcome to another blog for the nerdy manifesters who want to feed their logical minds. full disclaimer, these answers are solely based on the research I've done, and if you'd like to do your own research, you should! you are the creator of your assumptions and reality, after all. I will never stop encouraging others to find their own answers. while I was writing this, I had no idea someone had already talked about muscle testing on Tumblr, so, please do check out their post too!

what is muscle testing?

according to my holistic therapy, muscle testing is, "[...] a method of gathering accurate biofeedback on the body’s Physiological and Psychological state by stimulating the muscular system. The body’s cells know their entire history and what they require to regain full health. Muscle Testing is an elegant way to retrieve the knowledge imbedded into the cellular memory of the muscular system." ^1 when muscle tests are performed correctly, it allows the one being tested to have a direct conversation with the subconscious mind, aka the machine that controls the entirety of our body.

how does muscle testing work?

"Our bodies interact and move through the world by contracting and releasing muscles. A Tester will illicit either a contraction or release of certain muscles by applying gentle pressure to the muscular system. This testing unlocks the vast knowledge muscle cells by utilizing the binary contraction-release language of the body.

This simple, yet powerful process, is the first step of energy therapy, and it provides an accurate assessment tool of the client’s condition. This is a major part of Integrated Physical Emotional Clearing (IPEC) Therapy."^2

To better simplify what this means, everything that 'works' has energy flowing through it. You, me, your pets, the plants, and beyond. When doing a simple muscle test, you consciously may have a thought, or ask a question perhaps, and when the muscle test is performed, the subconscious will control your muscles in a way that gives an indication of 'yes', 'no', 'like', 'dislike' through a strong/firm or a weak/struggling muscle response that involves the muscles locking in place or stress causing weakness in the muscles. Energy therapy involves changing beliefs at the subconscious level with the use of energy, there are various energy therapy treatments, however, the one that I know about in a deeper sense is PSYCH-K. Again, I recommend you go and do some research of your own!

why would I muscle test myself or others?

muscle testing is just another application of holistic health, and there have been studies on how it can aid in decision-making, figuring out allergies, as well as what foods your body does and doesn't like. along with that, you are also able to test your subconscious' view on certain things that you are conscious of. bruce h. lipton details in his book 'the biology of belief' that DNA expression is not, "predetermined or unchangeable. Instead, the book details how DNA is influenced by signals emanating from outside the cell. The strongest energetic signals that cells receive are our thoughts, beliefs, and attitudes."^3 which is how we're able to manifest drastic appearance changes with our thoughts, feelings, etc, as well as completely eradicate health issues, pain, and other things of that nature with the use of our thoughts, beliefs, feelings, experiences, etc. the medicine you take for your colds is literally just energy, consider that.

how can I muscle test myself accurately?

there are various tests you can do. there are dozens YouTube instructional videos that can lead you in the right direction! however, my personal favorite is the sway test, which i will discuss a little further down. it takes trust in yourself, however, other people can muscle test you if you'd like a solid proof answer. even so, here are a few videos you can watch to better familiarize yourself with. please be advised, there are various ways to muscle test, I highly recommend that you do all of them and figure out which one feels right for you, your body will know.

The Finger Pad Test

Pendulums for Muscle Testing

7 Different Self Muscle Testing Techniques

how can I muscle test other people accurately?

How To Do Applied Kinesiology Muscle Testing

also, whoever you're testing or if you're being tested, your chin must be parallel to the floor while your eyes are looking downwards for the most accurate testing while your arm is being pushed down. the position of your eyes allows you to fully engage your subconscious without worrying about your conscious getting in the way of accurately testing others or yourself, it's been believed to assist in dissociation.

what are some benefits to muscle testing?

since muscle testing is apart of energy therapy, energy therapy has the ability to benefit all areas of life, including, but not limited to— relationships, family, individual growth, and overall well-being whether that be physical, mentally, or emotionally. if you find yourself struggling with certain thoughts or beliefs, muscle testing allows you to have a conversation with your 'higher self' aka your subconscious.

how does muscle testing correlate to manifestation?

when you perform muscle testing on yourself or others, you're able to connect with your 'higher self' aka your subconscious which uses about 95% of your brain on a daily basis, it knows when a lie is being said as well as the truth. after you've established what 'yes' and 'no' is according to your subconscious by making statements you already know the answer to (Examples: [My name is [insert your name]. I have [color] hair. My name is [fake name that's not yours] I have [insert wrong color hair]), you can then ask anything you want. You can also make statements and see if your subconscious agrees with you or not, that will then allow you to take the necessary steps you need/want in order to become your best self.

how can I do the sway test?

stand up with no distractions (no TV, no music, no outside conversation), feet should be shoulder width apart and planted flat on the floor. or if you are unable to stand, just sit up as straight as you can manage. then, lift your chin up so that it's parallel to the floor, facing forward, and focus your eyes down on the floor. once you're done with that, state "my name is [insert name]", notice which way you lean naturally, make sure you're relaxed, this'll be your 'yes/like/true'. you can do this a couple times to make sure. and then you state "my name is [fake name]," notice which way you lean naturally, this'll be your 'no/dislike/false.' once you've established that, you can ask questions, make statements, and anything else you want, you can even test supplements by holding them in your hand as well as holding certain foods. your body may lean forward, backwards, sideways, etc, it's all based on the individual. please be advised that at any point in time you can retest from your yes/no answers by making the statements above, as many times as you want, just to make sure your yes/no answers are the same. I would recommend that you do this after every question you ask, just to give yourself the satisfaction. but again!! do what feels right and what makes you feel that you're getting the most accurate answers.

what are some ways I can muscle test myself without fear of my tests being inaccurate?

practice whatever test you feel most comfortable with, or have someone else test you if you're unable to fully trust yourself. personally, I find that the sway test is easiest. you can also use a pendulum as a muscle test if you'd like, whatever suits you as the individual is what you should go with.

how can I use muscle testing to heal my limiting beliefs, trauma, and other detrimental things that have been holding me back?

muscle testing gives you a deeper insight on the beliefs currently settling in your unconscious/subconscious mind. truthfully, you'll find out things you probably would have never expected to be there in the first place, hidden away somewhere. who better knows you better than you?

is it an absolute necessity to muscle test myself when trying to create new assumptions/testing whether or not my beliefs have changed on a subconscious level?

nope, not at all! this is essentially the same thing as getting your palm read, your aura read, having a tarot reading, and other things of that nature. It's up to you on whether or not you want to try this out or if you think it'll work in your favor.

how can I use muscle testing and psych-k simultaneously to benefit myself to the max?

in my previous post I provided the instructions on how to do psych-k, and if you fully watch the video you will notice that the demonstration involves muscle testing before and after the psych-k treatment. you can do the muscle testing on yourself with various methods, and then you can figure out how your subconscious stands on your conscious belief/affirmation. if the subconscious likes the affirmation or views it as true, then you're golden. however, if it sees it as false, then the next step would be to ask your subconscious 'Is it safe and appropriate for [name] to balance for this goal?' If the answer is yes, then proceed, if the answer is no, you may have some underlying issues that need to be addressed before that. It's very rare for the subconscious to say 'no,' however.

after receiving a 'yes', you will then ask 'are all systems ready and willing for a balance of this goal?' once you've gotten your answer, you will go on to do PSYCH-K.

after performing the necessary steps to implement this affirmation/goal/ etc into your mind, you may do another muscle test and see where you stand.

what are some questions or affirmations/afformations, and belief statements I could use to muscle test?

I am a master at manifesting.

I can manifest anything I want right in this moment.

I am ready and willing for change.

My desires are already mine.

I am intelligent and capable.

and if you struggle to come up with your own affirmations or questions, check out this video and see if it'll help you!

notes

personally, I've only learned about muscle testing and psych-k within the last three days, and I've already had results. before I started doing this to myself, I did it to my brother and ma (they're my guinea pigs 🧍) and they both experienced some weird tingling sensations in their brains after looping a single affirmation. I decided to do the same for myself, but with self muscle testing. my manifestations are coming in faster than ever just because my subconscious now believes I'm a master manifester. plus, I used it to change another belief I had and I actually started crying like a lil' bitch. 🧍and I'll be honest, yesterday I muscle tested myself and asked 'can I enter the void right now?' and my subconscious said yes. so, there was an attempt on my end where I used the lullaby method, lulling myself to sleep with just the words 'I Am', and when I went to sleep, I didn't enter the void, but I had a dream. I can't entail what the exact details were specifically bc it's personal but it was about my family members who've hurt me in the past, with lots of rage and anger. and when I woke up, an affirmation immediately popped up in my head 'I forgive those who have hurt me and I'm ready to move on.' bruh. this isn't what I consciously wanted, but obviously my subconscious thinks I need to work on this matter before I can ascend and so, I'm gonna trust myself.

gotta be honest, I've read other people's posts where they have had their 'eureka!' 'aha!' moments and their little epiphanies... thought they were all completely bullshit and I was a hater, but gods-- that shit's real, and now I gotta make a change within myself, and it's time for you to do the same.

references + extra resources

Quoted Information

PSYCH-K

The recorded lecture about PSYCH-K (it's an hour long but I think the knowledge is worth it)

Rewrite Your Mind

[indigochromatic]

Another One Of Those Advice-for-New-Systems Posts

Saw one of these going around recently and got inspired. I wouldn't call this advice list the "evil edition", more like the... "do no harm but take no shit" edition X'D

Be on each other's team first, before anything else. Everything gets easier when you're facing it together.

Trying to avoid being (or looking) cringe is a fool's errand. If you would have to bend yourselves into a conciliatory pretzel in order to make a person like you or a social circle accept you, those people are not worth your time.

When you inevitably get hit with episodes of anxious system-doubt, (it's a pretty universal experience, I promise), take a second to pause. What's the longest span of time you've had so far without any "system stuff" (comments in co-con, switches, notes left for you, etc) happening? Say it's a week. Take that time span, double it, and then tell yourself that you are not allowed to seriously, actually start doubting until that long from now (e.g. 2 weeks). "But I'm so sure I'm definitely just faking it!" okay, hey, alright--if that's true, it'll still be true in 2 weeks. You can wait to find out, it's okay.

Be kind to everything in your head anyways, even in the middle of a doubt episode, because that's equally important for singlets to do and not just limited to systems. "Just part of me talking to myself" is as worthy of respect and kindness as an autonomous system member.

Also, keep notes somewhere of Hilariously Plural stuff that happens to you. It'll be good reassurance, but even more importantly, it'll be really funny to look back on later.

Labels are tools to help you communicate your experiences, not boxes you have to sort yourselves into.

The magic question isn't about labels or validity or trauma. It's "What do we need? What do each of us need, individually? What support would help us?"

Don't get too caught up in online system communities. Especially 1) endless tilting-at-windmills debates, and 2) advice channels and feeling obligated to give advice and emotional support to everyone who looks like they might want it. (Note: it's not bad to give advice, but it can be very easy to make a habit of overextending yourselves to care for others instead of yourselves--quite often because your own problems are hard and scary, bc otherwise you would have solved them already, and other peoples' issues can feel a lot more tractable and easier to address.)

Do find people and communities where you feel safe to be yourselves, and where people get to know you for your interests and perspectives and senses of humor, not only for your demographic labels.

It's okay to not know everything or figure everything out right away. There will be changes, there will be surprises, and that's good and normal and part of being alive.

Have fun on purpose. Lean into having fun with being a system, even if fun moments are rare and fleeting at first. Make in-jokes, encourage each other's angsty poetry habits, leave each other notes (even if you share memories), end up with massive crushes on each other, daydream together, hold each other when one (or more) of you is sad. Find things about each other you're grateful for, that you admire and want to learn from, that you enjoy.

[nynyhaha]

Trouble Trio and what they sacrifice for their abilities

To make your hatsu stronger, you need conditions, nothing ever comes for free. In the chimera ant arc seeing the Spiders fight Zazan was like a breath of fresh air. AND it showed us their nen abilities! I think that the conditions they chose might say sometimes about their personalities.

Phinks

His ability is quite simple but it shows amazing potential. With each turn of his arm,his punch power increases so with enough time he should be able to produce a bigger impact that’s Uvo’s Big Bang!

His limits are time he has before someone attacks him and energy he has to put into it. He’s among the strongest Spiders physically, but he too can only do so many arm rotations before he gets tired.

It could actually be compared to simple physics where one kind of energy is transformed into another. Still,if you wanna do something really big you gotta have the patience for it and in an intense battle every second is precious,so I can see how the need for time could be a problem.

Phinks has a reasonable condition that doesn’t cost him too much but works very well. Very clear and straightforward. Good choice!

Feitan

actually needs to get hurt. It’s also stated that his ability is activated by rage, so it’s also necessary that he’s pissed.

It’s interesting that he’s willing to get hit just for the satisfaction of watching the opponent receive the pain back tenfold and as heat!(I don’t actually know the proportions,it’s some sort of transmuter procedure where damage equals an amount of aura)

Sure,in a serious fight against a strong enemy he’s likely to get hit at least once,but would you not prefer to be able to cause pain without feeling it? I’m talking about scenarios where taking damage in order to use pain packer is more beneficial than staying unharmed and fighting without it.

Using pain strategically is typically Feitan, meanwhile I still believe that he hates it.

Shalnark

Let’s start off with the fact that he too feels pain because of his hatsu, but after it rather than before. It’s as inevitable as in Feitan’s case which I think is very funny.

Their abilities are polar opposites : Feitan gets hit first and then can enjoy the show and lay back as he watches all the destruction. Sure, his arm won’t heal because of that, but at least he lot the anger out of his system.

Shalnark will suffer from muscle pain for days after, and he wasn’t even there to see it. His ability is as impersonal as it gets.

For him it’s about control.

He’s a manipulator and uses people like dolls. He makes them loose their free will and turn into machines. He knows how horrifying loss of agency can look. But he’s willing to do that to himself! Id even say his ability is even more ironic than Feitan’s, because he’s subjected exactly to the thing his victims are. Ofc it’s willingly but when he’s in autopilot mode, he’s his own tool.

He says that he doesn’t like his ability and uses it during emergencies. We don’t even know how strong it makes him, but it might enhance his strength up to Uvo-level.

Shalnark is a computer genius and a technology nerd, so for him the manipulation is robotic rather than emotional. He takes people and makes them to puppets,as if they’re not alive. But he himself thinks of his role in the Spider as a cog in the machine and there’s something sad and endearing about it.

He’d prefer death over working for someone he doesn’t like and being their tool,but he’s fine with being that for the Spider and Chrollo.

Makes me think how he rejected his humanity and how he and Chrollo both instrumentalised their existence. Will Chrollo ever come to realise that it’s wrong?

[captainuranium543]

Hi! I just wanted to know your thoughts on this post here: https://www.tumblr.com/yamishika/761491771751596032/something-that-has-been-bothering-me-regarding-the

Do you agree with this? Disagree with this? Was this just a light comedic moment? It def feels out of character for Jellal to a large degree. You have such great takes on Erza in general, that I wanted to check about this. I tried looking at your posts (now that I have better cell service) and didnt see this on your posts list. Apologies if you’ve covered it already. Thanks in advance!

the post in question^

thanks so much for this ask actually cuz I have been resisting the urge to yap about this forever and now I have an excuse ahaha.

honestly I completely agree, I've been saying it forever but as fairy tail has gone on Mashima has kind of stopped putting as much thought into it has he did early on. Early on the characters where the center of the narrative and honestly I think that's when ft is at its best because that has always been the best part if ft as a whole. The tower of heaven and the trauma Erza and Jellal faced along with countless others had so much impact on the story as late as season 6 because of just how massive a tragedy it was.

starting with Erza and Kiria, it feels especially disgusting for this to happen to specifically Erza because she has spent so much of her life being treated as less then human already. In the tower her purpose was literally to work herself to death, they needed sacrifices and lots of them. As soon as she wasn't useful to them anymore she would killed without a second thought and her life would only be another number added to the massive death toll of the r system project. she wasn't a person in there, she was a tool. Even after the tower she was still under someone else's control (on a leash you might say) with Jellal holding the lives of her friends over her head to keep her quiet, constantly taunting his power over her by spying on her with seigrain in the magic counsel. this is exactly what happens with Kiria and it feels genuinely horrifying to see it happen again but still its just played for fanservice and I find that incredibly irritating.

as for the Erza vs Jellal fight in the Aldoron arc, here we have a scene that is objectively horrifying to both of them. Erza and Jellal share INTENSE trauma associated with mind control and the loss of free will, and yet the scene is played for laughs and fanservice.

I do understand why Hiro did this, if they took the scene seriously it would probably set Jellal right back into his old ways again of avoiding Erza like the plague which he doesn't want because he's trying to push them closer together. I get that but its still feels like such a missed opportunity to give them some kind of emotional development which neither has had in so long. I'm gonna get into my own idea for the fight here so bear with me.

The fight begins and they intercut it with flash backs to the tower of heaven arc, or even further back to their actual childhood, showing how genuinely afraid of him Erza is right now while also trying to control herself and keep her "fight" instinct at bay because she doesn't want to hurt him. the fight from her perspective should be chaotic, rapidly throwing her between past and present while she desperately tries to hold onto a sense of reality and remind herself its not him.

now imagine this, at some point she loses control and really starts to spiral and he gets the upper hand. she's totally beaten and exhausted after trying to fight him and her demons at once and while she's on the ground he approaches her, lifts her up, and we get a call back to this scene.

throughout this fight we never really see Jellal's face, its mostly been from Erza's perspective and when we do see his face its a flashback to a different time while he was mind controlled. Now in the present jellal says something, idk what he would say exactly, but its something similar to the "it was the color of your hair" moment where it reminds Erza of something he said to her while he was himself. Erza finally snaps back to reality, she looks down at him and we finally get a clear view of his face in the present, and we see that he's crying.

that is enough to fully snap Erza back and finally give the fight her all, because its not just for her sake its for both of them. he would never forgive himself if he hurt her so she's going to have to be the one to do it even if it hurts because its the only way she's going to save him. and more than anything she wants to save him. (Again, call back to the tower of heaven, she was to late to save him then and it weighs on her to this day, she wont be to late this time.) anyway fight ends shortly after that she knocks him out and she's crying because obviously she never wanted to hurt him either she's just taking one for the team (like always but that's another rant). Just before Jellal passes out he looks at her and he thanks her for saving him (ONCE AGAIN CALL BACK TP THE TOWER OF HEAVEN but this time its not manipulation he's being fr showing us that its really him now). he passes out, erza gets up, looks back at him maybe one last time, says shes sorry, then goes off to go keep fighting. fight over

case and point I think this could have been sick as hell and i'm sad it didn't happen. its not that I have a problem with fanservice I just think it should be tasteful at least a little.

[gffa]

SO WHAT ARE JEDI HEALERS LIKE IN CANON? The subtitle of this project was literally, “Started making it.  Had a breakdown.  Bon appetite.” because Star Wars lore is a mess of about five distinctly separate continuities and hardly anything has been devoted to this particular niche of Jedi worldbuilding.  I spent a few hours hunting down sources, most of which were just one or two lines, at most a whole entire single paragraph! of information, and not much on how Force healing actually works. This is fair, primarily the Force is about the emotions the user puts into it, that’s the core, central theme of what the Force means to Star Wars worldbuilding, rather than nitpicking details about hard rules of how it works.  Further, the Force isn’t full of hard and fast rules on a bigger scale, it depends on the person, it depends on their mood, it depends on whether it’s a Tuesday or a Friday, because it’s about serving core themes, not about serving a system of magical rules. That said, here’s what we know of Jedi Healers specifically in canon, both as a group within the Jedi Order and as an ability of the Force.  This post will mix together Legends and Disney/Lucasfilm canon, as well as include RPG books that are not meant to be sources of canon, because the whole point of this is to give worldbuilders some tools to start with, should you want!  HAVE SOME FUN WITH IT, PICK OUT WHAT YOU LIKE, AND BUILD UP FROM THERE.  \o/ KNOWN JEDI HEALERS: - Rig Nema (Lucas canon, Disney/Lucasfilm canon) - Stass Allie (Disney/Lucasfilm canon, as a healer) - Barriss Offee (Legends canon as a healer, Disney/Lucasfilm canon as working with healers) - Mill Alibeth (Disney/Lucasfilm canon) - Nahdar Vebb (Fantasy Flight Games canon, as a healer) - Vokara Che (Legends continuity) JEDI HEALERS ROLE IN THE JEDI ORDER: Jedi healers seem to be fairly rare and they were regarded as fairly precious:

(Jedi vs Sith: The Essential Guide to the Force / Legends canon) Note:  In this instance “Old Republic” = prequels era, and while this snippet is Legends, Rhinnal has been mentioned in Disney/Lucasfilm canon in The Rising Storm.  In the FFG books, the Jedi established a chapter house on Rhinnal for many patients that was still in use and had been expanded during the prequels’ Jedi Order’s time.  So, the Jedi have Halls-of-healing-esque houses on other places beyond Coruscant. Jedi Healers were regarded as the most sensitive Jedi of all:

(Wild Space / Legends Canon) JEDI HEALERS’ STRUCTURE: Rig Nema was a Consular Jedi, which was a Jedi that devoted themselves to the study of a science or diplomacy, where she was a dedicated doctor.  Jedi specializing in healing seem to often withdraw from any combat duties, as well as they fall under this specialized role within Jedi career paths.

(The Visual Encyclopedia / Disney/Lucasfilm canon) In Legends, the Jedi Healers worked with the MedCorps Jedi, as well as the were in leadership roles in the Temple’s infirmary and on worlds like Rhinnal and H’ratth.

(The Jedi Path / Legends canon) Note:  The Service Corps are tricky, because Legends established them just after The Phantom Menace came out, before even the second movie of the prequels had arrived, much less TCW or anything.  Which means much of the content that came later had a tendency to contradict itself, as well as they do not exist at all in Lucas’ canon, and they are only mentioned in deeply obscure reference guides in Disney/Lucasfilm canon (and no mention of aging out--which further cannot work the same way, as TCW and Dooku: Jedi Lost establish that 14 year olds are young for Padawans and that 17+ isn’t rare for Padawans), but have never appeared in any book or comic yet.  All of which means:  Feel free to use them!  Source material is a buffet that you get to pick and choose from!  But be aware that some things are fundamentally incompatible from one continuity to another, and the Service Corps is a big one of those. Within the Jedi Order, there was a sub-order of the Knights who practiced healing arts, called the Circle of Jedi Healers:

(The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia / Legends canon)      “Seated on the Jedi High Council due to her invaluable role as a Jedi Consular, Master Stass Allie is gifted not only in diplomacy and Lightsaber combat, but also Force healing. As a member of the Circle of Jedi Healers and overseer of the Medical Corps, she continues to hone her healing abilities even while deployed as a general for the Galactic Republic in the Clone Wars.” (Complete list of Force Collection cards / Continuity status unknown, probably Legends as it started in 2013) Not all Jedi had to be dedicated healers to work with the medical clinic.  In Disney/Lucasfilm canon, Barriss Offee often spent time helping injured Jedi, because she found healing to give her solace.

(Stories of Jedi and Sith / Disney/Lucasfilm canon) Though, in Legends, Barriss was more directly a healer, working under Stass Allie in the Circle of Jedi Healers, where she specialized in disease rather than surgery.

(Star Wars Databank / Legends canon) Similarly, when Mill Alibeth finds her place within the Jedi Order, at Yoda’s suggestion that she use her abilities for specialized medical and spiritual assistance for war-wounded Jedi, she’s not necessarily Master Nema’s Padawan, it’s not so formalized as that, showing that there’s a lot of flexibility within the Jedi Order’s studies and paths.

(Brotherhood / Disney/Lucasfilm canon) JEDI HEALERS’ ABILITIES: While Jedi healers focus on medical training, they also train Jedi in the main components of Jedi philosophy, like greater control and insight.  When Mill Alibeth begins training with Rig Nema, she gains greater mastery over herself and the insight she has into Anakin in their meditation together:

(Brotherhood / Disney/Lucasfilm canon) In addition to Jedi healers being rare, it seems like it was taxing for them to directly use Force healing, because it drained them personally.  While much of Kylo’s ability to revive Rey seems to come from that they were a dyad (and this would not be possible with other types of Force Healing, so other Jedi could not do that particular thing), Rey does do some Force Healing, where she must calm herself and center herself to do it properly, and it takes energy from her to accelerate healing. It’s not much here, she doesn’t need to recover from it, but anything more significant and likely she would have.  So, Jedi healers have to be careful about how much they give of themselves when healing others.  This is also why Grogu collapses after healing Greef in The Mandalorian.

(The Rise of Skywalker novelization / Disney/Lucasfilm canon) Another Jedi healing ability is the Healing Trance, which would accelerate their natural healing process.  While in this trance, because their heartbeat and breathing slow, they can appear to be dead to others, and they’re unaware of the world around them.  Depending on the climate, they can last anywhere from a week to a month within this trance, without outside hydration being given to them.

(Jedi vs Sith: The Essential Guide to the Force / Legends canon) JEDI HEALERS WITH THE FORCE VS TECHNOLOGY: The Jedi Order of the prequels seems to balance between technology and the Force, that both have their place in healing.  In the episode “Voices”, Rig Nema relies on medical scans to show Yoda’s physiology, as well as a tank of dark liquid (either a bacta tank or a sensory deprivation tank, both would be useful for Jedi who need calm and no distractions to connect to the Force) to help him, but it’s balanced with his connection to the Force being plumbed, it’s not focused only on technological means.

JEDI HEALERS HAVE TO WATCH OUT FOR: In addition to being extra sensitive, Jedi Healers would be spending time in places that were soaked in pain and suffering, just by the nature of injured people’s anguish.  Not only would they face the difficulty of dealing with a patient’s pain directly, Force-sensitive means being psychic, as in that pain literally soaks into the walls around them.

(”The Jedi Who Knew Too Much” / Lucas canon / Disney/Lucasfilm canon) It’s intense enough in places that have a bad accident and those feelings linger, it’s a hundred times worse in places where people are always in pain or dying.  Jedi Healers aren’t just subjected to the person’s suffering that’s right in front of them, but the thousand patients before them that have left their emotional imprint on the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the pillows, the bed, the very air around them. HALLS OF HEALING/MEDICAL WINGS:

The Medical Center and Infirmary seem to be located about halfway up the left-hand side of the main ziggurat: "Medical center and infirmary, staffed by Jedi Medical Corps.” (Complete Locations | Disney/Lucasfilm canon)

“The Jedi Temple's Halls of Healing were beautiful. They had lofty ceilings and enormous windows that spilled golden light over the blue and green and rose-pink walls and floor. Imbued with the Force's most gentle aspects, with love and nurturing and peace, they were full of perfumed flowers and green growing things, with the music of running water and the vibrancy of life renewed. They were the perfect retreat for those who were broken in body and mind, a place where the ugliness of suffering was washed away.” (Wild Space | Legends canon)

It’s difficult to get a sense of the size of it in The Clone Wars, but it seems to be fairly big, given the diversity of what we see of it, there may be more hard scientific areas and more gentle healing areas, both:    - Obi-Wan’s transformation into Rako Hardeen is in an area with multiple cordoned off areas with doors that can be fogged over. (The Clone Wars | Lucas canon , Disney/Lucasfilm canon )

Likely the same area in the episode “Voices”, it seems like it’s in an area of the Temple that’s a hallway away from windows facing the outside. (The Clone Wars | Lucas canon, Disney/Lucasfilm canon)

 Anakin and Mace share a recovery room, which has a different style from the other infirmary rooms, done in different colors and with softer lighting, indicating that they have gentler recovery rooms versus the active medical problem areas It has a window looking out over Coruscant, indicating that it’s near the edge of the ziggurat, likely an area for less critical patients and meant to promote healing. (The Clone Wars | Lucas canon, Disney/Lucasfilm canon)

 Yoda is put in the infirmary in an area that looks to be the same area, but also has a separate area for a bacta tank, which seems to be at least possibly similar to the same area Depa was in when she was submerged in bacta. When Anakin walks into the room (and later he and Yoda walk out), we see what looks like sky through a window in the background of the outside hallway, possibly indicating this was near the edge of the ziggurat as well.  (The Clone Wars | Lucas canon, Disney/Lucasfilm canon)(Kanan: The Last Padawan | Disney/Lucasfilm canon)

[eugenedebs1920]

Pennsylvania Lt. Governor, Austin Adam’s, “The election was free and fair in 2016 when he (Trump) won, it was free and fair in 2020 when he lost, and it will be free and fair in 2024.”

As a previous sports player I can tell you. You can’t just love the game when you win. You are not going to always win. Losses are part of the experience. They’re part of life. Sportsmanship is a life lesson. You win some, you lose some. Either way, you’ll be out on the field ready to go next chance you get.

That is where Trump fails as an adult, as a role model, a politician and a leader. Being gracious in defeat. Defeat is inevitable, doesn’t mean it has to be often, but it is inevitable. To do that takes humility. A trait Trump lacks.

You can’t just love your country when you win. You can’t just be the president of the people who voted for you. You can’t say you’re American, then do all you can to tear down the core of our nation.

This is why anyone with moderate knowledge of history and/or political science would call Donald Trump a fascist. He claims every news organization is “fake news”, except which ones? OAN, NewsMax, and a branch of his campaign, Fox News. That gives away the game right there! So the press is fine as long as they aren’t critical of you? Your policies and actions are fine to be covered, as long as they’re not controversial. That’s part of a fascist political stance. Ask any of those reporters Putin had thrown out a window!

If you have any background studying nineteenth century through twentieth century Europe and Asia it’s clear to see the similarities in the rhetoric, the perceived problems, and the way to fix them. For too long, centuries, fear has been used as a tool to subdue the masses. Whether that’s fear of a military or police state, fear of invasion from a foreign enemy, fear of higher taxes, fear of immigrants. Fear is a powerful emotion. It grips your chest to where it’s hard to breathe but you could jump over a small building at the same time. It’s a natural instinct. All things feel fear at one point or another. It’s a survival tactic. Fascists, and many politicians, use fear as a tool to sway their population or voters towards them. Using such a raw and visceral human instinct.

That fear is often about a thing, a movement or a group. Far too often in modern society this fear, which transmutes into anger, is directed at those different than the majority of the population. Mostly directed at immigrants. From WWII to the genocides in Africa. An enemy is created for the people to extrapolate their anger upon. Donald Trump is a master at this. This is fascism

Before a single vote was cast in 2016, Trump was telling his supporters at rallies that, “The only way we’re going to lose, is if they cheat”. Coincidently he did win, and no fuss was made, no recounts ordered, no lawsuits filed. In 2020, when he botched the pandemic response, made an ass of himself, and us, on the  world stage, when he wouldn’t condemn racism or white supremacist groups and told them to “stand back and stand by”, when he had added nearly $8 trillion to the deficit, when he had broken every rule, every norm, all etiquette and ethics, there was no way he would “win in a landslide”, as it was said.

The American people were sick, broke, couldn’t work, dying by the thousands, stuck at home, frustrated. For him and his supporters to have the slightest doubt that he had the chance of losing is preposterous! Of course he had a chance! He dropped the damn ball numerous times!

His continued lies about the election system is the most damaging thing a “leader” has ever done to our democracy. He has sown seeds of doubt, that, just like weeds, will take a long time to eradicate. For over 200 years we have been the symbol for free and fair elections, the model for the peaceful transfer of power. Now, because Trump lost, we’re all the sudden not!? We’re a 3rd world country!? Or as Trump puts it, we’re the world’s garbage can!? That’s fascism too!

Na tho! It’s him that is garbage. It’s him who can’t be trusted. It’s him that is poisoning the blood of our nation. It’s him who is thin skinned, yet always putting others down. And it’s us.

It’s us who are going to show the world that we still are the America we portray ourselves to be. Leaders! Thinkers! Good, honest people! Kind! Compassionate! Empathetic! Strong.

Let’s show this wanna be dictator and the rest of the world who we are! Let’s show our dignity and self determination. Let’s vote Kamala Harris as the President of the United States of America!🇺🇸



[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

'Til Death Do Us Part║ ⓛⓘⓜⓘⓣⓔⓓ ⓢⓔⓡⓘⓔⓢ

| 'Til Death Do Us Part | fourth and final part of the Whistle in the Dark limited series ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x married!fem!OC

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  20.2k 👀 | CONTENT: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, deranged Horny Demon Hours shit, cuckolding!, erotic gore, feticide/miscarriage, acts of service: extreme mode, bodily fluids in places they shouldn’t be, torture, brutality, inappropriate use of handheld tools, mental manipulation through violence, menstruation-centered erotic acts, cumplay?, kidnapping, the vibe of the pottery wheel scene from Ghost except violent, discussions of verbal/emotional/physical abuse, so much blood from multiple people, bloodplay, lots of things with a knife, WHAT!TOWN?!Joel

| SYNOPSIS: The tangled web of Matthew's deceit and manipulation have ensnared you and crafted a dismal end.

Please be aware that this installment in particular might be potentially triggering for SA/DV survivors who have dealt with the legal system and its many, many failings for the most vulnerable populations. Please read with care. 💜

You hear the dull rumblings of voices. The cadences vary from deep to soft to rushed and even some hazy amalgamation of all those things. Your head is pounding. Everything sounds like you’re underwater. Your lungs hurt like you’re underwater, too, like you’ve been submerged too long and haven’t taken a proper breath in ages. You’re stiff. You’re sore.

You’re alive.

The voices are becoming clearer - or maybe just louder - as they try to speak over one another. You can make out the sound of someone’s pitched, anxious whispering before a flurry of responses – 

“ —don’t give a flyin’ FUCK what any of ‘em hafta say.” “—protocol that can’t just be ignored.” “—obviously not what’s goin’ on here, Joel.”

Your head is throbbing with indecision over whether or not you want to try moving a limb. You manage a twitch of your fingers on your nondominant hand. That goes okay, so you chance some movement from the wrist up. Instant stiffness and discomfort. You whimper. The voices continue.

“—takin’ the law into your own hands–”

“—fuckin’ makeshift town at the end of the world. Ain’t no fuckin’ laws anymore, Tommy.”

“—always been a weak spot for you, Joel.”

The overhead lights sear your vision when you finally work up the strength to open your eyes. The blinding rush acts as some sort of sensory accelerant, a deluge of sensations hitting you from all sides at once now. Almost all of it is painful and prickling. Your eyes snap shut. You’re hyper aware of the fabric laying against your skin, rubbing and gritting against you even though you are still. The dull, tired thrum of your heart beats in time to some lost song. The escalating volume and tension of the argument happening at the end of your bed – what you assume is a bed, anyway – makes your head feel worse. 

Sound comes easier and clearer from one side of your head, the side that Matthew didn’t pummel.

Matthew.

Nebulous recollections leap into your consciousness, sharp and clear. The memory of him striking you makes you jerk. His taunts, his promises of your death and possibly his own if things didn’t go his way…

Matthew was going to kill you and then probably himself, all while Joel watched. The stimulus to cry comes over you, but no tears come. Exhaustion won’t allow it.

You hear a voice directly above you. “Baby?” It’s Joel, but he sounds off. He sounds worried. But Joel didn’t worry. That wasn’t like him. He just handled whatever came his way and moved on. This antsy, apprehensive voice belonged to a different Joel.

The sticky accumulation of grime and dried spit made it hard to move your mouth to respond. You wince at something wet and warm being gently dabbed against your lips.

“Hold still, honey. Just a minute now,” he soothes.

You peel your eyes open with immense effort and wait for the blurred shapes to come into focus. 

Tommy. Maria. Joel.

Hushed, sniping whispers shoot back and forth. You blink away the haze and take in your surroundings. It looks like the clinic. If you had any energy left for humor, you’d laugh at the irony of it all. The last time you were here was when you and Joel were treated for injuries you sustained on patrol together. It was the same day you’d walked home after being patched up only to discover Matthew and Natalie together in your bed. Your thoughts turn to ruminations of how this could’ve been avoided if you’d just told everyone the truth about Matthew right then and there. Maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe you wouldn’t have put people’s lives in danger.

“M’sorry,” you wheeze. It hurts to talk. You wonder how long you’ve been out.

“Don’t you dare,” Joel warns, stern and unwavering.

“Take it easy,” Maria calmly suggests. You aren’t sure if she means you or Joel. Probably both.

“Been through the wringer,” Tommy adds quietly. “No need to push yourself too much.”

You move your moistened lips back and forth a few times to prime yourself for speaking. “Where is he?”

The room is quiet as if they were all hoping it would take longer for you to arrive at that question.

“He can’t hurt you,” Joel insists. “Locked up. Can’t hurt nobody. Not anymore.”

“He’s being held at the correctional center until a clear narrative of what happened can be established,” Maria supplies, sounding almost clumsy in her terse delivery.

“He-He came into—was too fast–couldn’t–”

Your explanation is cut off with a cough. Your mouth is scratchy and dry. Joel helps you to sit up straighter, drawing a hissing groan of pain from you, and tilts a cup of what you assume is water onto your lips. You gently sip in small increments.

“How long?” Your voice is thick with sleep and pain.

“Been here a few days is all,” Tommy answers. “Been comin’ and goin’ but mostly just sleepin’. Got you some medicine onboard to help with it all. Been worried. ‘Specially this one.” He juts his chin towards Joel, who scowls in their general direction.

You’d grimace if you could stand the discomfort of it. You’d roped Joel into your bullshit just like you’d dreaded. Your mind warpspeed shifts to Ellie. Ellie. You startle in your weakened state. Joel seems to understand.

“She’s okay. Knew somethin’ was up before she even made it through the door. Smart kid.”

A heavy sigh of relief escapes you. With the situation as dire as it had been - and still is - Matthew only managing to harm you was the best case scenario. You maintain a neutral face as Joel fills in the blank spots in your memory. How Ellie had come back home to gather some clothes for her sleepover. How she’d felt something was off when she sensed the unnatural stillness of the house. How she spotted Matthew hovering over your unconscious body and thought he’d killed you.

Your heart wrenches at the thought of her seeing you like that. Ellie didn’t deserve this. She didn’t ask for this. You’d brought pain onto her and Joel both. As Joel recounts how she’d run to Tommy’s for help, your lungs feel like they’ve shrunk. Apparently Matthew had been taken by surprise at her appearance, forgetting that she even lived there.

Leaders in the community spoke with Tommy. Spoke with Ellie. Even spoke with Joel and Natalie’s dad, after it came to light that Joel had sparked something in this entire collapse. Matthew had scrambled like a coward once Ellie outpaced him and went running for help. He was apprehended within the hour, and you were whisked away to the clinic even sooner.

Ellie showing up to get those clothes had probably saved your life. Your stomach gnaws and shreds itself with that piece of knowledge. This is exactly the sort of thing you’d wanted to avoid, and here you’d put so many through so much unnecessary hurt in such a short span of time.

Your stomach only felt all the more gutted as you listened to Tommy and Maria explain that interviews had been going on all while you’d been unconscious and Matthew had been in a retaining cell. Several of Matthew’s “conquests” had heard of all the news with his newly pregnant partner and the inappropriate conduct with a minor. They’d been called upon to share their testimony as to whether or not Matthew had ever suggested or carried out violent and abusive behavior towards them. They all truthfully attested that he had never been anything of the sort.

Joel shot Maria a nasty look when she volunteered the information about a few of them floating the idea that you had probably injured yourself and somehow lured Matthew to talk with you so that you could claim he’d done all this damage to you.

An idea that you were so desperate for revenge and to ruin his life that you would concoct an elaborate sort of story where such a thing would’ve happened. It was just the natural outflow of the groundwork he’d laid over the weeks about how you were supposedly physically aggressive, how you’d put hands on him before, how you weren’t the same person behind closed doors, how he’d finally put his foot down and left you.

It wasn’t just the town gossip Angelica that had been feasting on the morsels of lies that Matthew had been steadily feeding to sources that were sure to pass along such salacious information. Unfortunately for you, Matthew had always been a manipulative smooth talker, always ten steps ahead of you. He’d been setting the stage for this sort of situation, smart enough to assume at least a few of his past lover’s responses to the questions would lean towards this bastardization of events. So before anyone had even testified yet, he’d already fed the story to the leadership council. He fabricated some story about how you’d asked him to talk, and he felt sorry enough for you to agree to it.

Joel tries to shut the conversation down when he sees the tears brimming along your lashline, but you shake your head and insist on hearing it all. You have to know what you’re up against, and as Maria continues, you realize just how much of a monster you’re facing.

As it stands, his account of events is the sole firsthand statement on the situation, and it’s just as pernicious and artful as you would anticipate from a man like him. By his version of things, you’d begged him to talk to him, and he’d pitied you enough to oblige, meeting at Joel’s house as planned. When he came upstairs to find you, he discovered your intentional, self-inflicted injuries along with an already disrupted room, all meant to signal a struggle had taken place. You’d taunted him for walking right into your trap, insisting that Joel would be home soon and would react to protect you once he saw the scene you’d created. You’d laughed in his face about Joel fighting for your honor, willing to kill to protect you. All of it an elaborate ruse you’d arranged just so you could physically assault him and threaten his life. 

He’d enacted just enough self-defense to prevent you from fatally attacking him, avoiding your blows whenever possible because he didn’t want to fight back and hurt you somehow in the process even though it would’ve been in his right to do so. Ellie’s surprise appearance was “an intervention from the Lord above,” or so he’d thought at the time. When she discovered him standing calmly over your unmoving body, he realized she’d fallen right into your plan as well, running off thinking he’d been the perpetrator in all of this. Fearing that she was running to find Joel and bring him back to the house - just what your masterplan had been all along - he’d fled.

He didn’t deny the large kitchen knife he’d had on his person in the house, claiming he’d gone to grab it at some point when he’d finally managed to subdue your attacks. It was the only self-defense he had if you woke up and started attacking him again. His entire narrative was one of self-defense, of fearing for his life, of fleeing on foot once he feared either Joel or his brother Tommy were going to return with Ellie and retaliate for the perceived attack.

You feel frozen to the spot as you listen. The icy sense of dread crept through your veins as it all sunk in.

The boxes from unpacking had been strewn about and a mess as you’d tried to work through them. Coupled with the upturned items in the bedroom, it presented a space in disarray.  It backed up his version of events.

His body was riddled with defensive wounds from his fight with Natalie’s dad. Even with the word from John that he had in fact had a physical altercation with Matthew, it made it impossible to determine when and where his injuries had been sustained since no one else had seen Matthew between that encounter and his encounter with you. It backed up his version of events.

For all the ways he’d wronged you, he’d shown love and tenderness to a constellation of lovers, all of whom had truthfully testified that he had never once laid a hand on them, been verbally aggressive, or shown a hint of a temper. It backed up his version of events.

Your history of coming from a violent upbringing, of how you’d grown up in a world where it was normalized, was perhaps the source of your “continuation of that cycle” simply because “you’d never known anything else.” It was a particularly cold-hearted blow, and it backed up his version of events.

The knife in his hand, the weapon for his own protection if he were put in a dire spot because of your insistence on physically assaulting him, could’ve easily been used to murder you. But he didn’t. He’d had plenty of time to do it if that had been his intent, so why was he instead just “hanging around”? Why, if he had gone there to assault and murder you, hadn’t he just done it? It backed up his version of events.

He was not striking you, harming you, or aggressively engaging with you in any way when Ellie came home. She’d only seen him calmly waiting with your unconscious form. Her insistence that “it obviously didn’t seem right” fell on deaf ears. She’d only been telling the truth when she testified that she didn’t personally witness any attacks from either party.  It backed up his version of events.

With a “beautiful baby on the way” and the path to “finally making decisions for a better life,” the legitimacy of his motive was questionable at best. You on the other hand had been left “bitter and jilted” by his decision to break things off and move on with someone else. He had everything to live for, everything going for him. You’d lost everything and been “left behind.” It backed up his version of events.

Each intricate, sinister lie entwined delicately into the next, so well explained and proactively contradicting to your version of events - the truth. Each fictitious strand clung to the next until a tapestry of deception had been woven, blanketing any hope you’d ever have in refuting each of the claims. He’d gotten ahead of the narrative, all because you were drifting in and out of consciousness from the battered state he’d put you into, no less.

He’d already won. He’d already won, and you hadn’t even had a chance to speak a word of truth.

The strict orders from medical staff to “take it slow” were laughable. A handful of residents were calling for your own stint in a retaining cell until all the investigation had been completed. That handful grew over the next several days while the council continued gathering all the information about the situation, getting witness accounts starting from when you got back from the patrol trip. It was a lot of information to go through and determine what was true and what wasn’t, what was embellished or glossed over.

You never strayed from the truth when you gave your piece to the Council, but it felt like it didn’t even matter. It had already been whittled down to a “he said, she said” situation. You wanted so badly to keep the faith that Council was simply doing their due diligence in getting all the facts prior to making such a huge decision as whether or not Matthew would be asked to leave Jackson…. or perhaps you. After you’d been placed on house arrest in lieu of a retaining cell - thanks to Maria’s shrewd intervention - you knew you’d truly lost.

It didn’t matter that Maria had convinced them – lied on your behalf —  that you weren’t medically stable enough for the holding cells and would require frequent medical supervision. It didn’t matter that she’d gently coached  you on the importance of delivering your official testimony without the visual of Joel next to you. It didn’t matter how she’d pressed the importance of not reacting to anything too abruptly unless you wanted to paint yourself as the violent, volatile assailant that Matthew had claimed you were.

None of it mattered. You’d been abused for so long. You’d been through hell with Matthew. You’d lost so much. He humiliated you. He beat you. He intended to take your life that day. And yet, here you were, sat in the same room with said man who looked deceptively forlorn and stressed. You had to watch and calculate every action and reaction of yours today so that you were a believable victim, a credible picture of a woman wronged, the embodiment of the innocent hostage to an opportunistic man. Nevermind the fact that the man in question had nearly killed you and would attempt it again if given the right opportunity and was only a glance away from you this very moment.

There wasn't a large number of people present for the hearings. The town Council. Founding residents. Longtime respected pillars within the community. All were called upon to hear your official testimonies of your version of events. Matthew went first. He tucked his body into itself, looking smaller and more unsure. He didn’t look at you. You couldn’t look away.

“I-I was trying to do the right thing, is wh-what I thought. Ya know, talk to her even though I knew she wasn’t too happy about me ending our relationship,” he sniffs pathetically. “I just.. I didn’t think, even after all she’d done to me, I didn’t think she’d do this. I mean, the whole set up. Framing me? Trying to trap me into a place where I’d lose everything because - I don’t even know -  I guess that’s what she felt I’d done to her?”

He shakes his head and laughs humorlessly at his hands that he fidgets back and forth nonstop. All a carefully curated and executed display from a master manipulator.

“I’m not gonna sit here and say I’m proud for all my actions. I know messing around with somebody who’s close to 18 doesn’t mean they’re an adult yet. She was the only one I’d ever — I never went after somebody just because they were younger. It was a stupid, stupid decision. I was just– I was just so lonely.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, mouth opening and closing like he can’t quite believe things had “gone this far.” When he shifts in his seat, you notice several others in the room readjust their own posture, maybe out of discomfort or maybe just subconsciously mirroring Matthew’s body language. You keep your teeth clamped together to stop from worrying your lip so hard it bleeds.

“After all the constant verbal takedowns and abuse from her—” he glances your direction for only a moment, just long enough for others to follow his line of sight and see he is talking about you, to you “—I was just broken. I-I wasn’t even myself anymore. I started making choices that aren’t me. I started getting with any woman who’d have my company. I was desperate for it. Desperate for anything other than the hell that was waiting for me at home.”

He shakes his head again, producing big tears to gather and fall down his face. He hitches his breath and sniffs louder now.

“I made bad choices, and I own up to those. But the idea that after finally being man enough to leave that type of situation…. To finally make a home and start a family with somebody who loves me and cares for me… It just doesn’t make sense. Why would I throw all that away? What, because she was with someone else? Of course not!” he laughs in that same humorless way again.

“I just only hoped he wasn’t gonna get it bad like I did all those years. I hoped and prayed she’d find peace with him - with anyone. If she could find some peace, maybe she wouldn’t need to do all of that, you know? To find whatever it is that she’s looking for, because god knows I’m not it.”

He pauses to wipe the palm of his hand roughly against his cheeks to clear away his tears. “I wished for so long to be able to be the guy to help her. I didn’t know why I wasn’t enough, I just knew that I never was.” He hangs his head in his hands for a moment before looking upward as though seeking divine guidance. 

“I just ask that the council please take into consideration her upbringing. The day I met her, she was getting beat to death by her own damn flesh and bone. Her father and brother were set to kill her. Can you even imagine that? That type of evil? How can someone coming from that know any better? She needs help. She doesn’t need to be kicked out of this place. I know what she’s done is horrible, but please, if there’s anything that can be done to-to, I don’t know- to rehabilitate her or therapy or something. Please don’t send her out those gates to die. Please. I may have decided to break things off with her, but I still care for that woman so deeply. Please.”

You feel close to retching. He’s made a strong case for himself all while casting a shadow of doubt and fault in your direction. You can feel the eyes of every Jackson resident called to attend the hearing falling squarely on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at them anymore. What if you don’t convey the right emotion? What if your efforts to not empty the contents of your stomach onto the floor right now somehow read as guilt or remorse? What if your nerves and body language and facial expression and sounds and posture are interpreted as some admission of wrongdoing?

You can’t stare at your hands any longer if you want to avoid appearing like you’re hanging your head in defeat or regret or fault, so you settle for pushing through the queasiness and scanning the faces of the Council in front of you. A few faces remain stony or neutral, but just as many if not more have softened or, worse, looked away from Matthew at the discomfort of seeing a grown man weeping so openly. If it isn’t seen as an authentic act, that would have to mean he was some brutal, manipulative monster to fake such a moving display of grief and pain - a monster they’d allowed to live right under their noses this whole entire time. Admitting that’s who he really was would be in part admitting their own fault at not keeping Jackson safe.

The lie is working.

Midday break is called, and the air in the room feels like every particle of oxygen is dampened and weighted with the inevitability of your downfall. Matthew was going to walk away from this situation unscathed, and then he was going to kill you. 

You just have to sit and wait for him to kill you. 

The tremble in your hands is such that you can’t get a firm enough grip on the doorknob to get into the private adjunct room where you’d be spending break. Ellie reaches around you and turns it quickly, giving you a gentle nudge inside with Joel following closely behind. The door is no sooner shut than you double over a bin and start heaving. Joel doesn’t make a face or comment on the odor. He just helps you get straightened up before taking out the soiled container. The smell of your ruination lingers as you collapse into a nearby chair and break into sobs.

Joel returns with food you can’t imagine stomaching and water you reluctantly sip. He doesn’t speak, just pulls you close against him.

“He’s gonna kill me, Joel,” you shake out. “They believe him. He’s gonna walk away from this, and then he’s gonna kill me.” The last few words dissipate into a hitched octave, full of fear and defeat.

“No he ain’t,” Joel corrects sternly. You can only shake your head and cry, at a loss for words in this surreal situation.

“They can’t actually be buying that story!” Ellie argues. “Nobody would believe that shit! Right, Joel?”

When Joel doesn’t rush to corroborate her assessment, Ellie seems to deflate a bit. “You-you’re not serious. People think he’s innocent?”

Her tone of comprehensive disbelief is as fitting now as ever. You can’t believe this is happening, but at the same time you also know deep down this was always the only way this would go.

“We know the truth, Ellie,” Joel sighs. “People are weak. If there’s anything I’ve learned in my life, it’s that you can’t count on people to do the right thing.” He finally pulls back to look at you. Your face crumples when you catch his apologetic expression. He’s as powerless in this situation as you are.

“But what about all those times she saved your life on patrol? And taking up for everybody’s shifts and covering people’s asses? How the fuck is that a bad person? Somebody that would plan something awful like that? Like, what? There’s no fucking way!” she sputters.

You blink unfocused at the floor, unsure of what to say or do. You want to comfort Ellie, but you don’t want to lie or get her hopes up. You know how this story ends.

“I don’t even give a shit if you did do something bad to him. Fuck it! I don’t believe him. I believe you. And he deserves every bit of what he gets, and then some!” Ellie asserts in a passionate appeal.

Despite everything, you smile to yourself. Ellie and Joel might not be blood, but they are certainly family in the way that it counts. And these two staunch supporters were in your corner, so you must be doing at least one thing right.

Joel cups your face in his hands and directs your attention to him, all  fiery eyes and steely expression. “No one is going to hurt you. He’s not going to hurt you.”

He says it with such firmness and conviction, you want to believe him. You brush away the fat tears slipping down the curve of your cheek. It’s silent again in the room, and Joel goes back to just sitting with you and holding you. He’s quiet and a little detached. It’s probably for the best. If he starts distancing himself now, it might make it easier on everyone when this too good to be true dynamic comes to an end.

The end of break comes and goes without anyone arriving to collect you for the afternoon session. Ellie points it out, the first person to speak in what seems like forever. Just as Joel starts to get up to see what the delay is, Tommy scoots into the room. He gives you a sympathetic, curt bow of his head and glances at Joel.

“Listen, I think there’s some funny business goin’ on with Matthew. I don’t know exactly what the hold up is, but I’ve seen a few of the higher ups come and go outta his room.”

“What the fuck is that s’posed’ta–” Joel starts as the door opens again.

Maria and another Council member squeeze into the ever shrinking room. It’s one of the members who had looked away while Matthew forced himself to cry. The air feels thinner with all the crowding and news of Matthew’s odd behavior. Somehow you still hold enough space for worry that they will be able to smell the remnants of your vomit from earlier.

“Alright, folks, sorry for the delay. Looks like we’re gonna pick up tomorrow morning from where we left off today. The, uh, other party isn’t in much condition right now to carry on, so we’re gonna adjourn for right now,” the Council member explains.

You don’t even have to turn to Joel to know his nostrils are flared and fists clenched. No one says anything, and the palpable tension in the room hangs awkwardly in the space.

“He put forth a request for additional time to collect himself after the ‘emotionally draining’ testimony that was given this morning. Given his disposition we all saw and the fact that it’s not our intent to put anyone into a position of distress during this process, Council has granted his request on a one-time basis,” Maria adds.

You bite back a scathing remark. You have been nothing but distressed. You just didn’t have the luxury of letting your emotions run wild lest you portray yourself as some volatile, unstable person - the type of person who would do all the things Matthew has charged you with. You can’t afford the negative attention that a big show of emotion would likely garner, so you just do all that you can: keep it calm and keep it moving.

You wish that you’d been able to get the first word. You wish you’d been able to get ahead of the narrative so that it benefited you - benefitted the truth. You wish that you could also be seen as brave and raw and moving if you cried in front of everyone. But Matthew had got the drop on you and delivered his “authentic devastation” to a panel of sympathetic ears. His inability to control his emotions was not a point of instability or weakness in their consideration like it might be if the roles were reversed.

Maria catches your eye. Her frown morphs into a tight lipped line, like she wants to say something to you but can’t. She looks at Joel for a moment before focusing on her counterpart.

Tommy clears his throat to dispel some of the charged climate. “Alright. Thanks for lettin’ us know. You need any help gettin’ him back to the retainer, Cliff?”

The Council member shakes his head. “Appreciate you offering, but I think they got it handled. He’s pretty out of sorts at the moment. Don’t think it’ll be much trouble getting him back.”

Tommy nods an acknowledgment and turns to Maria. “I’ll see to it she gets back to the house.” He tips his head your direction. Maria gives a quick thanks and heads out behind the other Council member, giving a tepid, short goodbye.

The walk back to Joel’s house is a disjointed, hazy blur. You’re inside, although you don’t have a clear notion of when that happened. Joel helps you out of your jacket as you stare blankly ahead. You hear Tommy murmur something to Joel that sounds something like “she alright?”

“Hey.” Joel’s voice is grounding and firm. You blink a few times and lock eyes. He’s grasping your arms like he’s holding you up. He might be. You’re not entirely sure at the moment. Every ounce of energy has been zapped from you. It all feels like a waking nightmare.

Low words are exchanged, and Ellie leaves the three of you in the kitchen. You settle clumsily into one of the chairs at the table and rest your head in your propped up arms. Joel and Tommy continue a conversation you drift in and out of.

“Considering he’s goin’ back to a retaining cell, there’s not a whole lotta reason people are gonna find to assume he’s just fakin’ it all. Ain’t the most lavish of places ‘n all that. Council meeting space is a lot more comfortable than that, so ya can’t say he’d be in some big rush to get back there,” Tommy reasons.

“Piece of shit just wants everybody to sit with his bullshit statements from this mornin’. Sleep on it and get his lies all embedded in their heads,” Joel scoffs.

“I don’t doubt that,” Tommy agrees gently. “I’m just sayin’ that you gotta keep in mind how things look, is all.”

“Are they going to ask me about his testimony?” you rasp.

The two brothers turn to you in sync. Joel is the first to pull a chair up next to yours. Tommy opts to stand at the end of the table with one hand mindlessly picking at the tablecloth.

“What do you mean, honey?” Joel asks softly.

“He talked about stuff. Today. And if I’m supposed to… defend myself, or whatever, I just– I want to know what sort of questions they’re going to ask me,” you explain.

Tommy and Joel exchange a look. You lick your dry lips and force the words out.

“Am I– Do I have to talk about my–about my dad and brother?” you choke out in a whisper.

Tommy scratches the back of his neck and looks away in much the same way as others had done to Matthew this morning when the discomfiting outpouring was too much. “I, uh, I reckon they might wanna follow up on some of what he shared, yeah. To get your side of things.” His expression pinches into an uncomfortable frown.

Your face falls when he confirms what you already knew: you were going to have to speak publicly on the most horrendous times in your life, and for no reason other than Matthew had purposefully brought it into the fold. You wrap your arms around yourself and rest your forehead against the table as you begin to cry for the millionth time today.

A strong hand from either side rests on your shoulder and back. Joel rubs small circles while Tommy gives a supportive squeeze. The tears flow freely as your fate comes into the clear. You were never going to be able to pull off being more believable than Matthew. You were never going to be able to remain composed enough to make it through this. Matthew was going to win, and then he was going to kill you.

“We’re gonna figure somethin’ out. I promise you that,” Joel vows.

“I can have Maria come by later to get a better idea of what we’re workin’ with exactly come tomorrow mornin’,” Tommy adds.

Joel pulls you against his side and wraps his arms around you. “Do you trust me?”

You blubber that you do, but it’s a mess of tears and snot as you try to explain that you’ve underestimated Matthew too many times to not have learned your lesson by now.

“Not this time,” Joel disagrees. “We’re gonna stay a step ahead of him. No matter what.”

You let him herd you into the bedroom that he’s completely rearranged so you’re not reminded of what happened here not that long ago. You’re sure Matthew prides himself on leaving you with that particular mental scar, the sacred comfort of you and Joel’s shared bedroom now tainted with memories of one of the scariest moments of your life. Joel had offered to move you both into the guest bedroom across the hall, but you declined. It felt like giving in, giving Matthew another win.

Now you aren’t so sure it really matters.

You settle into the cold bed, trying your best to focus on the scent of Joel on the sheets, and let your eyes flutter shut when he presses small kisses to your temple before going back downstairs to talk with Tommy.

The mellow sunlight filtering through the window suggests you slept longer than intended. Your muscles are sore. Your movements are stiff. How long had you been asleep? The whole hearing process must’ve truly exhausted you. Surely Joel would’ve woken you up if Maria had already arrived.

The smell of eggs wafting up the stairs leads you to the curious sight of breakfast on the table. Panic sets in once you register that you not only slept through the afternoon and the entire night, but you’d also missed Maria’s visit and advice. You hadn’t prepped at all. Joel assures you he’s got it covered and asks you to just take a breath and eat something.

You aren’t sure you can eat, but he coaxes you into some bites. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept. He promises you that he talked with Tommy and Maria and feels confident he can lead you in the right direction. You have no choice but to trust him. Ellie stays home today at Joel’s request. You ask how he managed that given how passionate she was yesterday. He shrugs and gives a noncommittal answer. You don’t press him. In all truth, you’re grateful that she won’t be present for today’s proceedings.

Prying eyes follow your every step to the Council building on Main Street. You refuse to meet any of them. You’re ushered by a standoffish attendant into the same small room where you sat for break yesterday and wait to be called into the main room.

You mention to Joel how odd the attendant was acting. He agrees but doesn’t seem all that surprised. Just as you’re getting the sense that Joel isn’t saying everything on his mind, the same Council member from yesterday enters the room.

“Cliff,” Joel greets curtly.

Cliff nods back in lieu of social niceties. “So it seems that Matthew was going through something more than we realized. We have reason to believe that, uh, that he has left Jackson indefinitely.”

Your shock propels you out of your seat. “What?!”

Joel stands quickly beside you and echoes your disbelief. “Who the hell let him leave?!” he thunders.

Cliff puts his hands up, palm side out, as if to allay the sudden uproar. “We’re gathering information as quickly as we can. We were alerted just this morning about all of this.”

“He tried to fuckin’ MURDER HER, and you’re tellin’ me you don’t know where he is?!” Joel bellows at a slowly cowering Cliff.

“We are doing everything within our power to sort this out, and I assure you that you aren’t the only one who is invested in getting to the bottom of this!” Cliff asserts with a put-on bravado.

“How do you know he left? Who let him past the gates? Who saw him?” Joel demands, rounding on Cliff.

“I’m not able to answer every single question you have, Joel,” he sputters. “I already told you this is a fast developing situation, and we’ve only just started piecing things together. It’s best if everyone just keeps a level head, alright?”

Joel doesn’t look much satisfied with Cliff’s offerings. “Keep a level head? KEEP A LEVEL HEAD?”

“Joel!” Maria barks through the door as she rushes in and shuts it behind her. “Enough! You’re so loud I can hear you down the hall!”

“What kinda establishment you got here, huh? Fuckin’ would be murderers just waltzin’ outta their cells as they please and nobody is any the wiser?” he spits.

You wrap a hand around Joel’s arm, and it thankfully seems to calm him a little.

“Joel, she just brought the letter to us a few hours ago. We’re trying to keep a hold of the situation, and you going off isn’t helping,” she chides.

“What letter? Who?” you choke out. You cling to Joel’s arm to steady yourself as the realization that Matthew has escaped starts to sink in.

Maria’s face softens as she turns to you. “Rachel. Rachel Harmon. She discovered a letter on their kitchen table early this morning. It was addressed to her with a portion written to the Council.

“The dipshit stupid enough to get knocked up by that psychopath?” Joel snips.

You give his arm a gentle squeeze. He glances down at you. You give a small shake of your head. Not now. He understands and chews the inside of his cheek against his molars.

Maria shuts her eyes and sighs, exercising some self-control in the charge of Joel’s anger. “His pregnant partner, yes,” she firmly corrects. Her eyes shift back to you. “I know it has been a difficult process, but if you could look at the letter and possibly verify whether it is his handwriting…”

“You manage to fuck up the VERY SIMPLE TASK of not letting a fuckin’ wannabe murderer escape, and now you’re askin’ his latest victim to help you? I don’t fuckin’ think so!” Joel thunders. He puts himself between you and the others.

“With all due respect, Joel, that’s not your decision to make,” Maria snips back in the same level tone as before.

“I’ll look at it,” you agree. Everyone turns to look at you as you stand there, shaking and trying to hold it together. “I can tell you if it’s his or not.”

“No. The reason Rachel can’t verify his handwriting — the fuckin’ father of her baby — is because Rachel doesn’t fuckin’ know him. Nobody does in the entire godforsaken place,” he finishes with a scowl thrown towards Maria and Cliff. “She knows him better than anybody – and she’s been tryna tell y’all the truth about him – but y’all wanna play this pretend court of law bullshit where there’s supposedly some kinda due process. As if she didn’t end up black and blue from that prick. Y’all seemed to forget all about that with his little waterworks yesterday, huh?”

Cliff looks appropriately chastised. Maria fixes Joel with a stern frown. “If you’re done showing your ass, we have work to do.”

You tug at Joel to get his attention. His angry face meets yours and deciphers the resignation written into every frown and troubled wrinkle.

He huffs and glares at Cliff and Maria. “Bring the letter.”

Cliff volunteers himself to fetch the letter, probably in an effort to excuse himself from Joel’s wrath. Maria holds steady and suggests everyone take a seat and take a breather. You slump into the chair. Your adrenaline is shot. Your mind feels like all the crucial cogs have hit a rut and won’t turn the gears. All the backup machinery of your mind is trying to keep up with things well beyond its capacity. When Cliff returns with the letter, it takes a moment to focus on the document placed before you. Your eyes adjust to read its contents.

𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕,

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠" 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎. 𝚆𝚎’𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎, 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜.

𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎. 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗’���� 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑.

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜𝚘𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜. 𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛, 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗.

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎.

𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚠

Your stomach bottoms out as you scan the lines of text. “That’s his writing,” you confirm with a feeble shake of your head. You can’t understand how he escaped or why. It didn’t make any sense. This wasn’t like him. Your tongue feels thick and heavy as you try to find the words to express these concerns.

“Doesn’t explain how he managed to escape,” Joel clips.

“We believe his, uh, emotional difficulties yesterday were enough of a distraction to the attendants that they didn’t notice him taking the key off them,” Cliff explains with a notable pink flush on his cheeks.

“So you got swindled, and now a murderer is on the loose?” Joel sneers.

“Joel, if you can’t keep it civil, then I’m going to have to ask Tommy to see you out of here,” Maria warns.

“You want to keep things civil, but you can’t even keep one asshole in a cell?” he bites back. “You’re tellin’ me nobody noticed he was gone in the middle of the night? How in the fuck did that happen, huh? Somebody sleepin’ on the job?”

Cliff adjusts in his seat and sits a little taller. The rosy flush morphs into a deep red and spreads down his neck. “He, uh, he arranged his bedding to look like—”

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Joel snorts in disbelief. “He bundled up some blankets to look like a body? Like in the fuckin’ movies? And you fell for it?”

Cliff clears his throat and can’t quite meet you or Joel’s eye. Maria huffs, clearly exasperated by Joel’s condescending ire.

“Sounds real fuckin’ convenient, doesn’t it? That he managed all this by himself?” Joel challenges in a low, dangerous voice.

“Watch it, Joel,” Maria cautions. “If you’re suggesting there’s some sort of foul play or outside help, you’re dead wrong, and I’d be careful going around making such bold, suggestive claims.”

Joel laughs without a trace of amusement and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. Maria’s jaw clenches tight with annoyance. Joel had told you before how his and Maria’s relationship was rocky at best, and this entire situation was just oxygen to a flame. You respected Maria greatly, but it felt good to have Joel stick up for you so fiercely.

“We’re done here. Until y’all get your shit together, don’t come botherin’ her. I’m walkin’ her home, and I’m gettin’ a rifle from the patrol station. You have my word if that asshole shows up, I’m shootin’ him dead on the spot.” Joel’s nostrils flare, hands slamming onto the table as he abruptly stands.

Much to your surprise, neither Cliff nor Maria take him to task on any of it.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go home,” Joel says softly to you, extending his hand for you to take.

True to his word, Joel obtained a firearm and made no attempt to downplay his intent to use it if necessary. He kept by your side, gun ready at all times, as the days pressed on. Tommy stopped by a few times a day, sometimes with updates and sometimes with nothing. By the time day three rolled around, you hadn’t learned anything that made sense of the ordeal.

Matthew had managed to steal his cell key from an attendant, leave his cell with a decoy blanket body in place, get into his and Rachel’s house to write and leave the letter, sneak into reserves and stables to gather up supplies and a horse, and, perhaps most daring of all, getting past the main gates. All without being seen or caught.

It wasn’t that he was incapable of such deceit. It’s that he left when he was already winning. That’s what bothered you the most. He was winning, and Matthew would never forfeit an opportunity to get the best of you and put you in your place. When you’d mentioned this to Joel and even Tommy, neither seemed too concerned with this crucial piece of the puzzle. Joel himself had said that you knew Matthew better than anybody, and it was starting to wear on you that even he wasn’t taking your concerns seriously. He insisted you just needed to keep a low profile and rest. Your pure exhaustion meant you didn’t put up much of a fight to his insistence.

Rachel gave her account to the Council regarding her and Matthew’s previous discussions around leaving Jackson. She tearfully recounted the few times he had spoken to her about “needing to get out of town in a hurry,” but she “never thought he meant like this.” You believed he’d had these talks with her, but not in the context of starting a new life somewhere else. You knew with every fiber of your being that he had spoken about leaving Jackson in a rush in reference to murdering you and either taking himself out with you or fleeing before facing the consequences, whichever came to be the right choice at the time.

It was coming up on five days since Matthew left. You provided your testimony yet again to the Council but didn’t share anything you hadn’t already. It was just under 15 minutes when they’d called everyone back into the room to announce you were considered absolved of any potential wrongdoings as it was impossible to confidently confirm which party had committed what actions. You were given a stern warning that any “untoward behavior” would result in immediate cause for dismissal from Jackson. You agreed to the terms, knowing that you had never been and never would be a problem.

Despite your partial exoneration, it felt like a hollow victory. You still fret to Joel about when Matthew returns and in what capacity. You’re worrying yourself sick with the looming fear of his return. If he was able to evade watchful eyes and escape, he was more than capable of getting back inside the settlement and doing god knows what. What if he didn’t find anything out there? What if he decides to come back and stay? What if he changes his mind and insists that you should be made to leave Jackson instead of him?

You sleep to get away from reality, but your dreams are plagued with nightmares of Matthew above you, choking the life out of you. You can hardly eat. Joel seems so calm somehow. You don’t know how he manages it. It might just be a show of strength to make you feel safer, but all it’s done is make you feel more frustrated. Why doesn’t he seem concerned? Why doesn’t he have the same energy about “staying one step ahead of Matthew” that was so fiery just a short time ago? A week out from your gift of grace from Council, you can’t take it any longer. Matthew has been gone for almost two weeks, and you want to tear your hair out.

“Why don’t you listen to me?” you whisper. Talking any louder guarantees you will break into a fit of tears. You’re afraid. You’re sleep deprived despite sleeping almost constantly. You’re hurt that Joel seems so detached and unbothered from the situation.

Joel’s head snaps up from his task. He frowns in confusion. “What do you mean, honey?” He sets his things aside and moves towards you. 

You take a step away and hug yourself, shaking your head. “I-I keep telling you that something isn’t right, but you don’t seem bothered at all. I feel—I feel so alone, Joel.” So much for not crying. The hot pinch in your eyes spills over as you bury your head in your hands. 

Joel is quick to snatch you up into a tight embrace. “No, baby. You’re not alone. You’re not alone.” 

He rocks you side to side and shushes you. You can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t on the same page as you. A sickening thought tears through your mind, one you hadn’t felt since that day when Matthew gave his testimony.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “Are you… Do you want me to go?” Your eyes go wide in dismay. Of course. You’ve been so distracted with everything going on that you didn’t even stop to consider the obvious: Joel wants out. This is too much for him. Too much for Ellie. This isn’t what he signed up for, playing personal bodyguard to you 24/7. He wants his life back. You can’t even blame him. Why would he choose this? Why would he choose you?

You’ve already accepted it before Joel can reply. You feel completely numb. Matthew was right. All those times he tried to tell you that no one would want you, and you decided to believe otherwise.

“What?” Joel scoffs. “What the hell? No, I don’t want you to leave! What the hell are you— Why on earth would you—” He shakes his head like he’s offended you’d even suggest such a thing. He’s gobsmacked into silence as he searches your face for some sort of clarity.

“But you—you’ve been so distant with all this Matthew stuff. A-And I just, I know it’s too much–I’m too much, and—” You ramble and try to control the flood of tears cascading down your face and neck.

“No. No, honey,” he says flatly. He shakes his head again like he can’t understand how you’d come to that conclusion. He sits you on the couch and pushes himself between your legs. He cradles your face so that you’re eye to eye with each other.

“I’m in love with you,” he states with conviction. Not a hint of reluctance or hesitation is in his voice. You can’t understand it.

“What?” you choke.

“I said I’m in love with you. I love you. It scares the hell outta me, but I do. I love you. I don’t want you to leave, not ever,” he continues. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead to yours.

“You? You love me?” you repeat.

He nods firmly a few times and pulls back to look at you. “Yeah. I do. I really, really do.”

“I–Joel—” you break. “I-I love you, too, Joel. I love you so much. I’ve loved you for so much time now. It’s been so much time, Joel. I never said it. I thought I was going to die before I could tell you—thought he was going to kill me before I could—”

Joel cuts you off with a deep, biting kiss. Your breath comes ragged and frantic with the reciprocal admission and overwrought nerves. You can’t stop crying, and you’re not even sure you know why you’re crying or what you’re crying about at this point. Everything has come to a bottleneck, and there’s no stopping the outpouring  deluge.

Joel draws back for a moment to catch his breath. He considers you with a contemplative gaze for a moment before speaking. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied that I wasn’t pickin’ up on how alone I was makin’ you feel.”

You swallow and ask a question you aren’t sure you want the answer to. “What’s b-been keeping your attention?”

Joel’s lips form a thin line. He holds your searching eye and finally nods. “I haven’t been honest with you. Been waitin’ until it was the right time. I guess now is the right time.”

Your mouth turns down at the vague explanation. “Joel, I don’t know what—”

“Tonight,” he interrupts. He sounds resolute, like he’s finally decided on something. “Tonight I’m gonna show you. Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

You aren’t sure how you’re supposed to sleep after all of that, but you try anyway.

You’re quiet as the horse carries you and Joel through the dense wooded areas outside the settlement. You’d exited through the cover of a passage at the edge of the barrier you didn’t even know existed, but you didn’t ask questions. You just sat quietly and waited to see what Joel was going to show you, what the answer to all your questions was going to be.

The moonlight slipped through the branches, the dapple of a dull glow lighting the path forward, wherever that may be. You hug close against Joel and rest your head on his shoulder as the horse meanders further, past the dam, past the typical patrol points. You hold on tighter at his instruction when he turns off into a steep, obscured ravine. It levels off at the bottom, and you’re beginning to wonder just how far into the outlands this clandestine destination is. Joel slows the horse to an ambling gait and veers into an overgrown pocket of woods.

“This is it,” he announces calmly as he dismounts. He assists you off the horse, and guides it into a concealed alcove already housing three other horses. The only indication that this is even frequented by travelers is a dug-out firepit some several yards away. You start to ask where you’re going now when he points out the telltale edge and turn of a man made structure in the compact stretch of greenery and woodlands. You’re almost a stone’s throw from the camouflaged house before you recognize it, hidden in the distance to anyone not already familiar. He holds firm onto your hand as if you’re one surprise away from being scared off completely. He guides you through the entrance of the house after brushing aside well-placed bits of facade and coverings.

You have a million and one questions, and a singular unknown has been halfway answered when your eyes adjust to the dimly lit interior. Two of the horses must belong to Tommy and Natalie’s father, John, who each sit on aging furniture in what you think was once a sort of living space. They offer a quick greeting, one that you’re too flummoxed to return. They don’t seem surprised at your unannounced arrival. You realize Joel must’ve already looped them in. You know it’s all in due time, but it’s difficult to not grow impatient and nervous as to when exactly all your questions will be answered.

“I’ll holler if we need anythin’,” Joel informs the pair before grabbing a flashlight from a crooked end table and leading you down a dark hallway to the left. He stops in the middle of it, checks over his shoulder that you’re out of earshot, and runs his eyes lazily over your features. “You doin’ okay?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I guess I’m alright. Just sort of feel, I dunno–” You aren’t sure why you’re whispering, but it feels appropriate for conversation in the mysterious, dark hallway of the secret, hidden house. “I trust you – I do – but I’m just getting more and more nervous with every—”

Joel grazes his thumb across your bottom lip. “You don’t need to feel nervous, pretty girl. Not anymore. Never again. I told you I got you, and I do. So now I’m gonna show you, okay? Can you let me do that? Just hold on for a little bit longer for me?”

You swallow down your fear and concede to his plea. “Yes. Okay. I can. I mean, I will.” A deep, grounding breath, and then, “ I’m ready. I trust you.”

Joel shoots you a lopsided grin. “There’s my girl. Pretty thing.” He leans down to give you a quick kiss, and you chase his lips when he draws back. “Plenty of time for that soon enough.”

He walks you to the end of the hallway and stops short of the solid paneled wall. He runs his hand down the edge of the decorative molding, stopping on some unseen point and pressing into it until a soft click sound is heard on the other side of the wall. “Hold onto my shoulder on the way down, okay? Don’t want you fallin’.” He nudges the bottom of the wall, and the entirety of it swings forward, revealing a small opening and staircase.

“Ready?”

Your eyes go a little wide, jaw a little slack, but you just nod and grab onto his jacket as you both descend into the murky space. You duck your head a few times whenever Joel does. He’s clearly been here many, many times to be so well-acquainted with every low hanging beam and jutted bit of framing. You reach the bottom and pause again. He raises a hand to the side, flicking some other out of sight thing, and a camping lantern washes light over the room.

The damp air fits the visual of the area, but it lacks the musk of an unused space. Evidence of human movement and activity are visible here and there despite it being mostly bare. “Hidden basement? Was it always here? This has always been here, or–?”

“Yeah. Came up on it by surprise a long time ago now. The work of some doomsdayer, probably. Took us a long time to find it. Got real good use out of it lately, too.”

You scan the room for some indication of what he could mean. A long folding table lines one wall, filled with random supplies and curiosities. Odd pieces of furniture are scattered here and there. A closed door leading to who knows what. Rolled work blankets, tarps, and crates lie in organized piles.

“Is it some secret outpost or something?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel fiddles with your hand in his. Buying himself some time before–

“Why’d you bring me down here?”

He continues across the space with you and hesitates outside the closed door near the back of the basement. He waits until you meet his gaze before saying anything. “Listen to me good now. We’re gonna go in there, and I need you to promise me if you need to get outta there you’ll say somethin’. No judgment from anybody if you do, alright?” His stare could bore holes into your head with the intensity of it.

“O-Okay,” you agree. You don’t know what’s inside that would potentially be too much for you, but you know he wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t think you needed the preemptive permission of an out. He nods, searches your face with an inscrutable look, and leans down into a soft kiss. He slots his mouth against yours in a slow rhythm, siphoning the jittery anticipation from you with each pass and pull of his tongue against yours. Your weight slowly gives way to his clutch, and you give and give and give your anxieties over until you feel significantly calmer.

He pulls away, appears content with your pacified demeanor, and rests his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ve got you, honey. Just remember that.”

 He eases the door open, pushing it wide so you can see inside without having to enter. There’s already a few sources of light, but Joel flips something that powers a long row of bulbs. Matthew’s panicked eyes lock onto yours, a frenzied recognition taking over, and he strains against the rope bandings that hold him in place. He’s bound to a chair in much the same way as the first time Joel tied him up during your first time together. His muffled pleas and screams aren’t entirely intelligible past the wad of fabric shoved in his mouth. You let out a soft gasp at the sight of him, a little roughed up but mostly just looking terrified.

“This hopefully clears up why I wasn’t seemin’ too concerned with whether or not he was comin’ back to Jackson,” he supplies quietly.

“You-You mean…” You glance up at him, dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

He nods his head and watches you carefully, searching for some sort of upset or anger or disgust at seeing your ex-husband being held captive and worse for wear.

“But that day at the meeting! You were-You were so upset! You… was it all…..” You struggle to verbalize a logical train of thought. Joel had been pretending to be just as in the dark as you actually had been all this time. An apologetic frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“After that first day of the hearing, I knew we couldn’t count on those people to do the right thing. I told you I was gonna protect you. Keep you safe. I already failed you once. I wasn’t gonna fail you again.” He fixes you with a soft, remorseful look.

“Joel,” you choke. “You-You went and–after it— but, how?”

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself like he’s been waiting to finally tell you the truth, to impart this secret he’s been keeping from you for your own good. “He’s pissed off enough of the guys in Jackson that finding a few helping hands wasn’t too grand of a task,” comes his simple explanation. He glances over to Matthew with a look of pure disdain. “Had a few that owed me a major favor. Knocked his dumb ass out and took him out the back. Tommy already took the supplies, and I met him with the horse at the back passage. John lugged him on the horse here.”

You blink slowly, trying to absorb all this new information and connect it to what you already knew - or thought you already knew. You’re in such a state of shock that you don’t catch Matthew’s increasingly desperate, stifled calls for help. Joel rolls his eyes and shuts the door so the conversation can proceed in peace. 

“But the letter,” you sputter. “How?”

Joel looks at the ground and knocks the toe of his boot against it a few times before looking back at you. “Might be for the best if we don’t get into that.”

“No, Joel,” you say with a tremble. “I want to know. I deserve to know.”

He shakes his head in agreement and reaches out for your hand, which you readily place in his. He hesitates a few times before speaking. “I- I  don’t want you to be- I don’t want you to be afraid of me, honey.” His head lists back and forth, his eyes locked on where your hands are clasped together. “Done some bad things in my life. Not proud of all of it, but not really too sorry for it, either. I just… don’t want you thinkin’ I’m somebody you gotta be afraid of.”

With what seems to be a great amount of effort, he looks at you again. You hold his stare, a steady and unconditional hope and confidence meeting his look of insecurity. “I trust you,” you remind him firmly. You gather his hands together in yours and press them against your heart. “I trust you more than anything. I trust you with my life. I’m not afraid of you.”

He wavers for a moment before steeling himself. “I threatened to hurt Rachel and the baby. That’s how I got him to write that letter,” he admits. “Had to get him to talk, and quick, and I knew threatenin’ that would get him to write whatever I told him to.”

Your brow pinches together in an unasked question: how could you leverage something against him that he doesn’t actually care about?

“Yeah, it’s a little more’n what it sounds like. I–” he pauses for a beat before starting again, once more sounding uncertain of himself “–I don’t want you to see me different, when I tell you. Don’t think I could take you feelin’ scared of me or scared that I’d do anything to you – ever.”

You could understand his reluctance to bare these dark parts of himself. You’d spent most of your life in the long shadow of fear, the torrents of violence delivered by the mouths and hands of men you should’ve been able to trust. It was all too predictable that Joel would just become another perpetrator in the long line that existed before him, fitting into the established pattern. 

Except Joel wasn’t like anyone you’d ever known, was unlike any man you’d shared space with. He jumped the circuit that had been assigned to you - the circular loop of pain and fear - and became the break in the sequence. The disruptor of the inevitable. The arm that links to yours instead of bending it backward until compliance is yielded. Joel had decided that the cycle of your suffering stopped here, and god help anyone who got in his way.

“Scared? Of you? Joel, the only thing that scares me is whether or not I can ever be for you what you’ve been for me.” The words slip out gently, like they aren’t all sharp edges patched together with threads of hope. He moves to cut the conversation from its trajectory, but you press on before he can stop your moment of timid confession. “I don’t want pieces of you, Joel. I want it all. Just like you say you want all of me. So– I’m asking you to-to trust me with the truth, the way I trust you with the truth.” You level a firm, probing gaze and watch as his reservations abate.

“I’m not stupid, Joel. I-I know what him being here– I know what it means.” You straighten taller, pushing and pressing yourself to show the faith you have in yourself and in Joel - in the two of you. “I know that he’s– I know he’s not going to-to live. I know he’s not going to survive this. He’s not going to walk out of here.”

“That ain’t up to anyone but you,” he corrects. Before you can ask what he could possibly mean, he clarifies. “Told ‘em it wasn’t anybody’s decision ‘bout what happens to him but yours. Weren’t too happy with me about it. Wanted to kill him the first night – especially John – but ain’t nothin’ gonna happen that you don’t want to happen.”

The weight of his words settles slowly, a viscid cloud that ripples and sweeps through you. Matthew’s far off, muted cries for help are the only sound other than the pounding pulse in your ears. He took your life and bent it to his will, and now he was at your mercy. His fate lies in the palm of your hand because Joel stopped others from taking that decision from you. Because Matthew had hurt you more than anyone. Because Matthew had taken the most from you, wanted to take everything from you, it should be you to decide what happens.

Because Joel wanted to give you something you’d never had before: the power to dictate your life.

Your lip quivers with the comprehension of it, the magnitude of the gift he’d gently laid at your feet, as if it weren’t the most profound gesture anyone had ever bestowed you. Your lungs pull for the inhale that will balloon your chest against the constricting cage of your ribs. You have to get it together. You have to let him know he can tell you anything, can tell you everything, all without the fear that it will be too much and be the reason you walk away.

“Because you love me.” It’s not a question. It’s an answer. An explanation of why this man in front of you would do all of this.

“Because I love you,” he echoes. His lips press into a tight line. Consideration. Resolution. And then–

“I said I would—” He falters again, searching your face for the fear he so dreads will take hold and fester in you, the fear of what he is capable of, even if it’s done with the intent to shield you from harm. You give his hand an encouraging squeeze. “I told him I’d  drag her here, blow her brains out, and rip his kid from her stomach. Make him hold it until it didn’t move anymore. Kill off the future of him if he didn’t write what I told him to.”

You gulp back a gasp. “A-And would you have…? You would’ve done that?”

“Didn’t need to,” he replies instantly, skirting the question.

You press his hand firmer against your chest. “Would you have done that, Joel?”

“Yeah,” he finally admits. “If it meant gettin’ Matthew away from you, if it meant protectin’ you, then yeah, I would’ve.”

You gently nod, swallowing down the ebbing jolt of his confession, and bring his palms against your cheeks. You pivot to kiss them each in turn before looking up at him. “These hands are for– they’re for loving me. And protecting me.” You tilt towards him to emphasize your belief. His shoulders sag with relief, your sanction of his ill deeds loosening the tight nieve of guilt around him.

“And I know whatever happens in there–” an aside glance back at the door and back to Joel “–it’ll be okay. I’ll be okay, because you’re with me.”

He gives you a pointed nod and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I got you. I’ve always got you from here on out. I need you to understand, honey.”

“I do. I understand.”

 “Then let’s get to it, sweet girl.” 

With that, he opens the door again and drags in a heavy blanket from the other side of the basement. The distinct clink and clatter of metal can be heard even through the thick fabric. He motions for you to follow him into the room and close the door. You push it shut and watch as he hauls a cushioned chair from the corner of Matthew’s room and sets it up a few feet away from him, dead center.

 Matthew’s eyes dart wildly between the two of you. You jump at the unexpected slap Joel lands against Matthew’s head. “Shut. The fuck. Up.” Matthew quiets down instantly and stills. “I’m gonna tell you this one time: do not speak unless spoken to. You will listen to her. You will answer whatever question she has. You will not lie to her. If you lie to her or start gettin’ outta line, I will gladly set you straight.”

He rips the fabric gag from Matthew’s mouth and throws it on the floor. His breathing is audible and strained without the obstruction. Joel wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you down onto his lap, sitting in the armchair he’d arranged directly across from Matthew.

He leans forward, hugging you against him. I’m here. You’re not alone. Take the power you should’ve always had. Get answers to the questions you deserve to have answered. His hands splay wide across your chest and belly, an anchor to him. He runs his nose along your neck and hairline,  presses his lips gently against your ear. “Go on. I’ve got you.”

Matthew has been sitting silently as instructed, waiting on your permission to engage. Something turbulent and mirthful stirs in your gut. You can feel it spreading through you like a beast intent on carnage. It takes a few moments to recognize the feeling for what it is: power. The expression “drunk on power” finally made sense. The feeling of confidence, strength, and command makes your head buzz. It occurs to you that while this is your first time wielding such authority, it is likely Matthew’s first time experiencing the other side of things, not having any control over what’s going to happen next.

“How do you feel?”

Your question catches them both off guard, although Joel doesn’t show his surprise other than tensing for a split second underneath you. Matthew’s eyes squeeze shut, his frown deepening as he shakes his head side to side. He takes your line of questioning as a sign of possible mercy – all that understanding and patience you’ve been leached of your entire life.

“I’m fucking scared!” he croaks. His voice sounds weak and tired. “Every time they come down here I don’t know if it’s gonna be the time they kill me! Please just tell them to let me go! I’ll fucking go, I will! You’ll never see me again, I swear it.” He leans as far forward in his chair as he can manage, his desperation for your leniency coming off him in spates.

“What about Rachel? And the baby?”

Again, they both show their surprise at your choice of question. Matthew’s face flashes an answer before he can speak: what about them? Of course. Why should he care about the woman he’d impregnated out of spite? She was nothing more than collateral in this entire thing. His rooted seed in her belly nothing more than a guarantee of his lineage, a point of ego.

He works his expression into more of the calculated veneer he’s perfected over the years. “I-If you would– Listen, of course I care about them both, of course I want to take care of them both—”

You don’t bother listening to the rest. His words slacken to a halt as you turn your head towards Joel. “He’s lying to me, and you told him not to,” you say softly. Something eager and electric sparks in his eyes. “Yeah, I think he is, baby. I don’t like that one bit. What do you think?”

Matthew stutters but keeps himself from speaking, rightfully afraid of Joel’s correction.

You rest your hands atop his where he cradles you against him. “Do you remember in the cabin when you told me not to feel bad when bad people get what they deserve?”

He holds back a smirk. “I do.”

“Do you remember what I told you I liked seeing and wanted to see again?”

He doesn’t downplay the depraved grin spreading across his face. “I think I do, but I sure would love if you reminded me anyway.”

You turn to face Matthew and swallow down the delight at his anxious urgency to understand what is happening. Your expression is cold, unfeeling. “I liked it when you cried, Matthew, and I like it when Joel makes you cry—” you turn to Joel again, whose face has darkened and acidified, the drip of a lethal edge pooling at the verge  “—so, I want you to do it again. I want you to make him cry, Joel. Make him cry for me.”

His smile is infectious. “Thought you’d never ask.” When he tilts you closer to his face and kisses you gently, it’s your turn to be surprised. “I love you.” A tender reminder, something free in the way he says it now that it’s already been said before. Like he wants to say it as many times as he can. Like you’ll understand how much he means it the more you hear him say it.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

You both ignore Matthew’s break in protocol as he rushes to explain his sincerity. Joel is in no hurry, knowing that his leisure only works Matthew into more of a frenzy. He walks calmly to the blanket he’d brought in earlier, unwraps it,  and studies the contents for a moment. Opting to forgo anything in the selection, he saunters over to an ever distraught Matthew. The glint of a small blade from Joel’s back pocket catches the light.

“NO NO NO,” Matthew starts chanting, an octave higher reached with every utterance.

You flinch when Joel swings his arm up, barely stopping the momentum of it in enough time for the sharp edge of the blade to tamp directly against Matthew’s cheek. The room is quiet again. A slip of crimson trickles between the bulge of his flesh and the blade. His jaw trembles with the effort of keeping still so as to not deepen the cut.

“The only reason you ain’t laid out and bein’ beat to death right now is because of her, so I suggest you count your fuckin’ lucky stars that she’s the one callin’ the shots,” Joel growls. His fingertips are white from where he grips the hilt of the blade so tight you can practically see the itch to drive it further in.

Matthew’s eyes lock onto your face. Like the rabbit whose leg has been snapped in steel teeth, he feels the walls closing in around him. Something about your presence makes this all the more real somehow, you think. You drop your gaze, suddenly feeling uncertain if you only liked the idea of Matthew suffering and might not be fit to actually witness it. As if sensing your thoughts, Joel flicks the blade closed and returns it to his pocket.

“Now listen real close,” he drawls. Matthew’s face pouches out in little pockets of flesh between Joel’s stretched fingers where they grip his skull. The dig of Joel’s thumb into the new sliced divide of flesh triggers a string of pained gasps. “My girl wants to see you cry, so you’re gonna give her some tears. If ya can’t squeeze ‘em out during some heartfelt somethin’ or other, I’ll just hafta think of somethin’ to motivate ya.” 

Joel watches you from the corner of his eye, waiting for you to take the lead when you’re ready. He senses your uncertainty at commanding the situation just yet and continues.  A fractured cry pierces the air as Joel wedges his finger deeper into the cut. “Lucky for me, I’m feelin’ real creative today.” 

Matthew shakes his head, although you’re not entirely sure which part of it he disagrees with. Joel doesn’t seem to notice or care and continues on. “So how about you start bein’ honest and start from day one. I wanna hear all the fuckin’ mistakes you made and all the shit you took for granted. And god help you if ya start lyin’ or fakin’ some crocodile tears.”

You find Matthew’s eyes again, settled with a defeated acceptance, and he looks scared enough that you think he might actually just tell the truth for once.

“W-When we met– the first time we met–” he sputters. He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s closing himself off from his current predicament, as if he can separate himself from the lies he’s told and his obligation to now recount the story in truth rather than through his lens of manipulation. “When I saw you, I just– I did think they were raiders. Your dad and brother. I did. But. I just thought– I knew I could catch them off guard and take them both out. I just–”

His eyes slip towards Joel, a mistake warranting censure. Joel grips his head in one hand and forces his focus towards you again. “You’re tellin’ her, not me. So keep your eyes on her when you’re talkin’.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to kill you, too, or see if maybe you could be useful to me in some way,” Matthew confesses in a bungled rush of words.

“What do you mean?” You swallow down a sick feeling and aren’t sure you want to know the answer. He’d been a liar since the very beginning, and it took you so long to see it. You’d been such a fool for so fucking long. Knowing the extent and depth of the deception only magnified the hurt stemming from this level of betrayal.

“He means he kept you around for a warm, wet hole to stick his dick in,” Joel snarls.

“It wasn’t just that!” Matthew pleads. His eyes nearly slip back to Joel, but he recovers at the last moment. “I swear! If-If it was just that I could’ve just raped you! You were already so beat down it wouldn’t have been hard!”

Your stomach sinks hearing him share this alternate version of events, something so perverse from what you’d always remembered it as. “Am I supposed to be flattered by that, Matthew?” Your voice breaks ever so slightly. You hate showing weakness, especially under the circumstances.

At least Matthew looks appropriately chastened. “I’m telling you the truth! You said you wanted the truth, and I’m doing that! PLEASE!” His lip trembles with unfettered panic. “Maybe I wasn’t some-some knight in shining armor like I had you believe, b-but if I didn’t actually want you I would’ve just dumped you sooner! You have to see that I’m telling the truth about that! I did like having you around!”

“Having me around for what?” you bite back. The look on Matthew’s face says Joel’s assertion about being a “warm, wet hole” wasn’t very far off. “So that’s really it then? Just somebody to use? Somebody to make you feel good? To be, I mean– to be, what? Forever in your debt? Someone who-who was so fucking–” you cut yourself off before the heat pinching in your eyes forms tears. You shake your head side to side to collect your resolve. “Someone who was so fucking grateful to be out of their situation that they wouldn’t even notice all the fucked up parts of their new one?”

Your voice has grown shaky and hoarse at the effort of holding back tears. Matthew’s face twists into something akin to an indignant sneer. “You can’t blame me for every little thing, you know. You didn’t have to follow me around like a lost puppy. You were plenty grown enough if you wanted to—”

The sneer morphs into a grotesque contortion of pain as Joel drives his knife straight into Matthew’s lower thigh and twists. The shocked scream erupting from him is almost as jarring as the brutal drive of the knife springing up blood through his pants.

“Let’s try that again,” Joel drawls. He yanks the blade from Matthew’s leg. The claret drips fall like a quiet rain against a window, and it makes you feel unfamiliar with yourself when you register the sort of calm it brings. The gentle pitter patter of rain against the pane. The soft spill of Matthew’s blood onto his clothes and the floor. Something contentious and changing, something ready to cleanse away the before. 

You sit up straight on the edge of the chair and grip the arms, looking on in revulsion and enthusiasm. The ire churning in your gut unfurls into licking flames of white heat. “A lost puppy you were more than happy to keep on a leash,” you warble back. The edges of your vision blur in equal, indignant fever. You shove yourself up from the chair, legs shaking with the surge of emotion you no longer attempt to subdue. Hot bands of wet splinter over your cheeks, a fit pair with the jagged breaths you pull in. “How many?” you snap. “How many women were you with after you told me you loved me and cared about me?”

Matthew’s mouth hangs open as if it awaits the strangled sob in his throat to dislodge itself soon. “PLEASE,” a gasp of a prayer for your mercy.

“Ain’t a quick learner, are ya?” Joel laughs to himself, calm as ever while he jabs the flat side of his hand directly against Matthew’s windpipe. 

He sputters and coughs before quickly choking out an answer. “I don’t–cough–I don’t know. I have to think!” He tilts his head back, his eyes chasing an answer along the ceiling somewhere. “I-I’m think–jesus christ I don’t know. It has to be….” He trails off with a small rocking motion as he tallies his indiscretions. “I think thirteen,” he finally decides.

“Can you even name them?” you challenge. He makes it through the first handful quickly, but his memory is hazy from when he’d finally given in to the practice of unabashed, serial infidelity. With a promise of “help” from Joel to remember the rest, Matthew manages to focus and list off names that amount to a grand total of seventeen. Seventeen others he’d sought out and prioritized over you, over his commitments and promises to you.

“Why?”

Matthew squeezes his eyes shut tight again in anticipation of the response to his truthful but less than palatable answer. 

“Because I could.”

He waits for the strike or the blade to come and peels his eyes open when it doesn’t. You can see Joel’s entire frame taut beside him, fuming at the gall and arrogance. You signal for Matthew to continue answering.

“I-I knew you’d never do anything about it. I knew you were too scared no one would want you. I knew you wouldn’t ever think of crossing me.”

A physical pain roosts in your chest. He was right. You never did anything about it - not until Natalie. Even after Natalie, you remained boxed in by your own fears of having to present yourself as enough for somebody else, as if anyone would want you. You’d never crossed Matthew because he was something rather than the terrifying prospect of nothing. But none of that mattered when he made you feel so alone anyway. It didn’t matter when he isolated you from even knowing yourself.

“Joel, can I have your knife please?”

His eyebrows shoot up, hands deftly placing the weapon in your open palm. “Gonna show me some techniques, baby?” His smile falls a little when he sees the fearfulness pulling at you again. “Or are you gonna let me join ya?”

“Together,” you agree.

Matthew thrashes in his bindings. Pitiful calls for you to just wait and hold on a minute fall on deaf ears. Joel kicks his chair to the ground and gives a hard push with his boot to position him onto his back. You motion towards the gag, which Joel shoves back into place. You brace yourself over Matthew’s feet and remove his shoes and socks. The sinew of his muscle flexes as he tries in vain to get away from you. Joel kneels behind you and steadies you in his arms. Matthew’s neck is craning, eyes bulged with horror, as he watches helplessly.

“Can you…..?” you trail off, not sure how to ask what you want to ask.

Joel follows your line of sight to the arch of Matthew’s foot. He holds you in the cradle of his arms, back to chest, as he places his hands over yours and the knife clutched there. “I’m right here. You go on ahead, sweet girl.”

He guides your hands forward, releasing his grasp on one side to hold Matthew’s foot in place, and you hold your breath as you both plunge the blade into the soft bend of Matthew’s foot. His screams become clearer through the bunched fabric in his mouth. Your stomach turns at the high pitched agony. Joel frames your body closer to his and talks close to your ear. “You’ve got it, honey. You’re doin’ it. I’m right here. You just keep goin’. I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

The glittery silver disappears into reddening, wet flesh. Before you can pull it back out, Joel turns your wrist to the side and slows the extraction to a brutal crawl of blade against bone. Your hands shake as you enact the most ruthless savagery you’ve ever rendered. Joel’s hushed whispers of encouragement feel nauseating and thrilling. When the blade finally works its way out completely, you release a hard, shaky exhale.

Matthew is sobbing and writhing, his torment discernible even through his restraints and gag. Joel is unphased, passing praising kisses against your neck and cheeks. “Did so good. So proud of you.”

“I did okay?” you shake out.

He leans forward so you can see each other’s faces fully. “Did perfect, sweet girl. Perfect.”

You take a deep breath and center yourself. “Can you help me do it again?”

Joel grins, a sort of fervid vestige of a bedlamite, and says of course he’ll help you do it again and adds that he’ll help as many times as you want, baby. After you repeat the same measured, excruciating puncture on Matthew’s opposite foot, Joel asks a question you’ve only just decided the answer to. 

“How many times you wanna cut him, honey?” He nuzzles against your earlobe, ever patient and calming. You know if you said you wanted to stop all of this and just walk away, he’d do just that. It makes you want to do it even more.

“I-I think that, um,” you mumble hesitantly. You try to block out Matthew’s heaving shrieks. “I think that some smaller ones for the rest. I think, maybe, fifteen smaller ones should make it–”

“–seventeen,” Joel finishes with a sinister chuckle. “Knew I had me a clever one. You’re really somethin’ else, sweet girl.”

You almost chicken out as you start to feel ill inflicting your twisted punishment, a slice into his flesh for each time he strayed from you. Joel as always helps you through it and steadies the blade to create fifteen superficial but sizable slits across the expanse of Matthew’s body from bottom to top. By the final cut, his eyes are far off and fixed on a spot above your heads. Joel jerks the chair upright and wrenches him out of his dissociative escape.

“Wake up, prick,” he snaps. A smack of his palm against the side of Matthew’s head gets his eyes focused on you again. Somehow there’s still the resonance of hatred in his gaze, a burning, putrid animosity held for you. The vitriol that comes into the centrifuge of his sight on you makes goosebumps ripple over your skin.

What feels like hours has in reality only been minutes. The encumbrance of violence has tired you quickly, and you briefly wonder how on earth people can maintain rabid, cruel tendencies for years, even decades. How they aren’t shriveled into a heap after 5 minutes of it. Then you remember, some people thrive on it. For some, it’s the only thing that swells their blood. People like Matthew who can’t seem to stray far from it without it coming back tenfold in its consuming appetite for destruction.

Your stomach burns and clenches. This is not the path you are meant to travel. There’s something decidedly wrong about it all, and you wish you could focus more on Matthew finally getting what’s been a long time coming. Instead, you avert your eyes from his, away from the splinters of torn tissue you’d carved into him.

“Hey.” Joel’s soft voice calls you from your freefall. You look over to find him already watching you, carefully pinpointing each minutia of emotion you can’t keep from breaking through. “C’mere.”

You readily shrink into his middle, his arms coming up to cage you into him. A few deep breaths of him block out the heavy, stale air of the room that’s whirling with the metallic daub of fresh blood. You let him guide you to sit in the lounge chair in his lap. You slump against his warm, broad body. Your head lolls to the side. You feel like you could just shut down right now and sleep for four months straight.

“Lemme help you relax.” The words barely register until the paired action of his hand skimming underneath your waistband catches you up immediately. Your body tenses as you turn your head to look at him. A soft, playful smile graces his lips. His fingertips dip down lower. Your lids flutter closed. Why did this feel so good in such a gruesome environment? How did this feel so germane after all the atrocities you’d just committed against another human? Nevertheless, Joel’s touch is a calming weight, settling over you in an instant.

“Gonna take these off, honey.” The scratch of denim and cotton against your legs is the beginning of your body fully switching over into corporeal awareness instead of the tumultuous sea of your mind. A whiny choke gets caught in your throat when you feel Joel’s hands against your bare skin.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. He spreads your legs across his lap, knees hooked over his thighs. Your curiosity gets the better of you when you wonder what Matthew’s face looks like. 

Cold. Callous. His eyes keep flashing to the cradle of your thighs, spread and displayed.

“Messy baby,” Joel hums with a spark of humor. You aren’t sure what he means until you see the bright blood on his fingertips. “I like you messy,” he grunts, cupping your pussy against his palm. 

“Joel,” you start to protest. As you stare at the menstrual blood glistening on your inner thighs, you realize the gut cramping and sick feeling you’ve been experiencing over the past hour could only partially be blamed on all the torment you’d been inflicting on Matthew. 

“Knock it off,” he warns, sounding stern and resolute, when you squirm against him. You whimper and give in immediately. There’s not much fight left in you when it comes to Joel, not with all the pinpricking blooms of revenge taking to you so steadfastly. He groans against you as he sinks his fingers inside your entrance. His other hand has skirts underneath your top, toying lazily with your hardening buds.

“Gonna let him watch just like that first time,” he husks. His excitement is palpable against you, seeping into you like an osmotic, erogenous stimulant. You can feel him thick and ready beneath you. You lift yourself higher for his fingers to go deeper. He wordlessly complies and drinks in your feeble moan.

“God do you remember how fuckin’ smug he was that day? Now look at him.”

You heed his invitation and focus your hazy attention on Matthew. His eyes are glossy and bloodshot. His nose is dripping. There are patches of bright new blood and auburn, oxidizing blood all over his body. There’s a mixture of dried and fresh tears streaking his face.

“Pathetic piece of shit,” Joel laughs under his breath. He hooks his fingers into you and moves his hand back and forth in quick motions, his palm pressing firmly against your clit. Your legs clamp together reflexively, but Joel pries them back open. You pin the weight of your shoulders against his chest, arching up from where you sit in his lap.

“Give it to me. Come on, baby. I can feel it. You’re right there–yeah, come on–there you go.”

A white heat scorches through your lower belly just as you reach your peak. You’re a writhing mess against Joel, who holds you loosely against his chest. A warm pool of wet gathers on his hand and fingers, bright red mixed in with your slick. Your chest feels hot and prickly as you catch your breath. Already so awash in your afterglow, you list to the side where Joel props you gently against the back of the chair. 

The entire front of his pants are flecked in smudges of scarlet. He twists and turns his hand in the light, admiring the catch of it against the mixture of fluids. He smiles to himself, stands, and saunters to Matthew, whose eyes grow larger the closer Joel gets. Thick bright red blood coating his hand is all the more evident when he flexes it into a fist.

“Bet you thought so many times about seein’ blood pour outta her,” he muses in a dangerously calm voice. “Bet you wanted to be the one to make that happen. Crack her in the skull. Cut her open. Shoot her. Huh?”

Matthew is still as a statue. You find yourself hanging onto Joel’s every word as well, mesmerized and head crooked to the side to witness whatever was going to happen next. Dissatisfied with his question going unanswered, Joel takes his clean hand to grip around Matthew’s sweaty, grimy hair and yanks him to the side. “HM?”

“Yes!” Matthew coughs and begins to cry again. “Yes, I thought about it!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Joel's entire broad frame is rigid with fury. “You wanted her blood so bad, you can have it.” The high pitched impact of Joel’s drenched hand across Matthew’s cheek practically echoes in the enclosed space. Fresh tears carve a clean line through the smear of your blood on his face. Joel slaps him again. Again and again and so many times you lose count. His face is covered in you.

Matthew had wanted you dead. He’d wanted your blood on his hands. He felt that’s what you owed him. Joel saw to it that the “debt” was repaid, just not how Matthew had envisioned it. It was a due reward for what he’d craved, and it sent a surge of righteous anger through every nerve ending in your body. Joel pauses for a moment to check in on you.

You bend your head slowly in approval. “More,” you whisper.

The million kilowatt, manic grin that brightens Joel’s entire face makes you smile shyly in return. There was something akin to pride there, something that made him swell with it just from you taking control of the situation and taking ownership in this act of vengeance. He loosens some of the restraints binding Matthew to the chair and frees his arms and legs.

With every ounce of energy he has available, Matthew lunges at you, an ineffective movement with his injuries slowing him down. It’s a stumble and a longshot. You’re not even sure why he attempted it. Joel doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. In fact, he looks like he was hoping Matthew might do something so incredibly stupid just to have a reason to further maim him. He snatches him up and sends him flying into the closest wall, crumpling into a heap. Just when Matthew manages to brace himself against the wall and sit upright, Joel’s boot slams square into his back, knocking the air from his lungs.

He twitches and gasps for breath that doesn’t come. He still hasn’t caught his breath when Joel finishes stripping him bare, a constellation of slices and gashes and bruises across his body. Joel kicks him again into the middle of the room, pins him to the floor with a knee between the shoulders. The deft movement of his fingers is mesmerizing as they work over the freshly tied knots around Matthew’s elbows and wrists. Alleviation doesn’t come when Joel stands, fully clothed with a hard foot planted into Matthew’s naked back. Something about this exhibition sends a wave of heat between your thighs.

“If you try that shit again, I won’t be as patient. You understand?”

“Yes,” Matthew sputters against the ground.

“Now, keep your arms out in front of you just like that, and if I so much as see ‘em twitch I will get to flayin’ you with a blunt knife, startin’ from your fingertips.”

Matthew makes a noise that you think can only convey a distraught understanding. You inspect the loops and knots across his body, never truly trusting that it’s enough to keep him contained. Before you work yourself up with worry, Joel walks past you to the pile of tools, plucks one of them up, and returns to your side with it. A flash of light catches against the head of a hammer.

“Let’s show this bastard what puttin’ his hands ‘round your neck gets him.”

Just like he had with the knife, Joel braces himself against you and positions you over Matthew’s outstretched hands, cupping the handle of the tool in your grasp. A visible tremor shakes Matthew’s entire body, but he doesn’t dare move his arms despite knowing what’s coming. To his credit, he doesn’t scream too loud with the first several blows of the metal tool against the delicate bones in his fingers. They bend in unnatural contours after each strike, bits of stark white peeking through gnarled, ripped sinew and flesh.

The shrill din in your ears drowns out his suffocated gasps. Even when Joel helps you stand again, your knees stuck in a tremulous lock, you barely make out his instruction to drive your foot down as hard as you can. His arm curls insistently against your ribcage, holding you upright, coaxing you into delivering the violent stampede of your sole into Matthew’s already ruined appendages. The faint, sickening crunch with each strike, the soft gurgle of blood and liquid as his bone tears through where it hasn’t been crushed already. You start to feel lightheaded and sick when Joel finally pulls you away and sets you in the chair again.

Sound comes slowly back into focus, but you don’t hear what sorts of things Joel is saying to Matthew as he crouches over his pitiful, slumped body. You can only imagine it’s the adrenaline keeping him going right now. Your expression pinches when you see Joel free Matthew of all the ties he’d carefully formed not too long ago. Or maybe it had been longer than you thought. This entire room existed in a vacuum as far as your mind was concerned. It felt as though nothing existed outside these four walls. All that existed was here and now in this moment of wrath and retribution.

Joel’s hands are warm against your face. “Hey there,” he says softly, quietly, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s bent in front of you, eyes traveling across your expression and taking in every indication of your wellbeing. “Remember if it’s too much, we can–”

“No,” you grit out. The resolve to see this through gives another wind of life. “Keep going.”

Joel’s eyebrow ticks up. “You sure about that? You were lookin’ a little pale back there.”

You shrug. “Not used to this. That’s all.”

He gives you a sympathetic grin and rubs his hands along your bare thighs. You’d forgotten you were only half-dressed. “You promised you’d tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not if I’m with you.”

His whole face softens, tender and visceral in the way it reaches out to you and pulls you closer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You rest your hands over his where his thumbs rub small circles. “So tell me what we do next. Help me finish this.”

And with no pretense, he ushers you up from the seat and slowly over to where Matthew lays quietly on the floor. “You wanna know what I told him?” he breathes into your ear. The wet of Matthew’s eyes glisten from where he looks up at you. The fabric gag is in his mouth again, although he is entirely unbound. You wonder what it is that Joel said to have him not daring to move again. “Told him he had to come first or I’d start breakin’ the rest of him, piece by piece, bone by bone.”

“Come first? What do you–”

“Hold onto me,” is the only warning you get before Joel is crouched behind you, reaching a hand between your legs and pulling you backward against him. Your body naturally falls open, limbs askew, as you lean into him. His fingers are thick where they breach into your bloodied entrance, still wet with your earlier release.

You quickly figure out he’s working you at such an odd angle with a distinct purpose. The pleasant but unmistakable friction against your g-spot has your legs shaking in anticipation.

“Better get to work. She’s already gettin’ close,” Joel taunts.

To your horror, Matthew drags his mangled hands across the soft length between his thighs in some warped deference to Joel’s warning that he has to reach climax before you do. The gag in his mouth isn’t substantial enough to drown out his anguished sobs. A harsh pinch to your nipple snaps your attention back to Joel. “You focus right here, sweet girl,” he husks. “You show me how good I make you feel, huh?”

You squeak out a moan when he rolls your other nipple between his nimble touch. “Ohmygod,” you breathe.

“Mmmhhmmmm,”  he chuckles low against your temple. “ Mmmhhmmm, yeah, there she is.”

 His fingers work you faster and harder until you’re right on the cusp, closed off the rest of the world with just Joel’s voice goading you to finish. You come with a hard jerk and grab onto his solid forearm as he positions you over Matthew. It comes out of you in steady spurts, the debauched splash of your fluids landing onto Matthew’s bare body and into the valleys and gashes you’d carved into it.

He seizes up, eyes slipping into the back of his skull. You don’t have a moment to consider the acidity of it in his open wounds, how it must make it burn and aggravate the already sensitive gashes, before Joel’s hands are everywhere on you. His voice is urgent when he says he has to have you right now. You say yes because even though your body can’t take any more of it, you want whatever he’s willing to give. You want all of him, to be swallowed whole by his want, to cave into the summon of his body and his mind.

The metallic clink of his belt and rough shove of fabric. You’re practically floating. He lines himself up and pushes in, already panting and sounding close. You cling to him where you can as he begins thrusting. The split of him stings in all the best ways, and you welcome the anchoring sensation of it. “Feel so–hhngg god- feel so fuckin’ good,” he chokes.

Your feeble moan only encourages his steady pace, filling you and spreading you and molding you to him. “I want it inside,” you whimper.

Joel gives a pained groan at your request, his hips stuttering for a moment at the visual. “Yeah? Want me to come inside you again? You like that? Like being full of me?”

You make some unintelligible noise that you hope conveys your affirmation. His gravelly moan works you towards another climax, but the roll of his hips begins to falter. You know he’s close. His body drapes over yours and pushes you both closer to the ground, nearer to the strung out stare that Matthew has in between squeezing his eyes shut tight as they’ll go.

“Oh fuck, please, Joel.” You want to be marked by him, want to be hued by the color of him spilling over into you, the tones and shades of him bleeding into you and staining into one flush of congruency. “Please, I need you,” you cry out.

He empties into you with a ragged moan as you clutch to him and find purchase with your other hand against the erratic rise and fall of Matthew’s chest. The warmth of Joel surrounds you and spills out of you with each sloppy thrust until he’s laying a path of lax, wet kisses along the column of your throat. “Love you. I love you.” He says it over and over like a mantra, breathless and in reverence that you’re his.

And you love him back more fiercely than you might ever be able to put into words. You look down at the man who’d wronged you all the while feeling the protective presence of Joel behind you. This is how it was meant to turn out, you think. A bookend to the first time you and Joel came together. A thought about that first time strikes you.

“I wanna do it like that first time,” you whisper with a turn of your head.

Joel hums in approval and gathers you closer to him. His hand slips lower in silent understanding, cupping your sex as he drags himself out of you. The mixture of his cum, your slick, and your period blood rush out of your entrance and into his curved palm. Joel flicks it, and you watch as it lands with a wet slop against Matthew’s face. Far from the fearful retreat you’d dwelled in so long, a righteous indignation swells in your chest. You lean into it with Joel’s help, letting him guide you into this new side of yourself, one that’s safe to explore and execute with him by your side.

You don’t feel the need to slap Matthew more than once with the handful of fluids. Joel is only satisfied once he’s struck him several times more and spit in his face for good measure. You aren’t sure if Matthew has finally given up or if the blood loss is starting to catch up with him. His responses are coming shorter and weaker.

Joel gets himself situated again before helping you get dressed. You’re sure it’s a sight to see, all the blood and grime and fluids covering you and your clothes. When you tell him you want Matthew brought outside, Joel gives you a dubious look but doesn’t question it. You look on as Matthew hobbles naked up the stairway, down the hallway, and past a curious John and Tommy who follow along outside. You glance around for what you need, finding it on the most level table in the front living area, and head into the cool night air.

No one asks about you and Joel’s disheveled, bloodied state. All eyes are on you for direction. What happens to Matthew is your call, just like Joel said. He holds Matthew at gunpoint, almost comical in the level of overkill. He’s bleeding, naked, and struggling to stay upright. Even if everyone understands he’s not going to survive, you and Matthew both know that the last thing he can keep is his pride and die alone without anyone around to witness such a pathetic ending.

“I know that you are probably going to die out there.” You look up the side of the steep ravine and off to the side where darkness and wilderness lie in wait. Everyone shifts at the insinuation that you will give Matthew the gift of privacy in his defeated, lonely death. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t asked for my forgiveness. So, I’m offering you the chance to make that right.”

Matthew whimpers, not yet free to die alone and away from prying eyes.

“Beg,” Joel snaps –  a singular, harsh warning.

Matthew meets your eye. He looks genuinely remorseful. “I never–I never deserved you.” You give him the time he needs to power through. He’s already lost enough blood to make just speaking and holding himself upright at the same time physically taxing. You can’t imagine the mental toll. “I know if you told them to kill me, they would.” He pauses to glance Joel’s direction. “I could’ve become a different person. A better person.” He sputters and coughs again. “ You could’ve done that for me - helped me get there.”

Tears flow. Real tears. Sincere tears from a monstrous man. A man who seems to have finally come to realize things could’ve been different if he wanted them to be. He sniffs and coughs and whimpers.

“I can’t ever change how I was—” he pauses to take a wheezing gulp of air “—I can’t go back and undo it. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, fat lines of tears splashing off his face.

“I know your heart is– it’s the biggest– you have so much love—”

He pauses again and steadies his labored breaths.

“If anyone had enough heart to forgive someone like me, I know it’s you.”

He holds your gaze, steady and unwavering. He means it.

“Please, please. Forgive me.”

You look at the brutalized, broken man before you, weeping and begging for your exoneration. You glance at Joel who is already watching you with a pensive expression. You look back down at Matthew. He hasn’t looked away from you as he awaits his fate.

“You haven’t earned my forgiveness, and you never will.” 

Your scathing verdict hits colder than the nighttime air. Matthew’s eyes bug out, wide and terrified. You think you hear Tommy laugh. “Put him in the pit,” you command. You jerk your head towards the unlit firepit at the edge of the dense treeline.

John and Joel happily cart Matthew, flailing and fighting with the vigor that is somehow miraculously still fueling his will to live, as Tommy trains the gun on him. They heave him into the hollowed out recess and await your next decree. Matthew is screaming and clawing at the walls. You think if he weren’t so badly injured he would be able to easily get himself out. His current state, however, renders him confined to the small circular space. Your hands shake as you reach into your pocket for the item you grabbed on your way out. A silent mass butts up against your back and steadies your hand. Joel.

“I got you,” he reassures you quietly, softly.

He holds the package in place in your left hand and guides the match in your right hand across the raised pattern of the strike pad. A flash of white settles into a warm orange burn on the end of the match.

“I’ve got you, baby. Go ahead.”

You lean over the pit, over Matthew’s desperate calls for you to not do this, and drop the flame. John grabs something from the side and hands it to Joel. Accelerant. He concentrates the first few spurts onto Matthew’s body before dashing a smaller amount over your flame. He pulls you both back as the fire swirls and shoots and swells from the pit. You close your eyes and lean back into Joel as you all stand and listen to the agonized screams coming from the bottom of the cavity.

Joel pulls you closer to him, pulls you down with him to rest on the stump nearby. The sounds of Matthew’s demise come slower and slower as the blaze consumes him. You turn your body, cradling into Joel’s embrace, and nestle your head against the crook of his neck. It blocks out some of the noise. He dips his head and fills your mouth with the slip of his hot tongue. You drink him in, open wider for him, let him into whatever space of yours he wants. It’s all his. You’re both each other’s. The kiss slows until it’s just lips grazing back and forth. A quiet comfort. A soft soothing. A safe embrace.

“Did I do okay?” you ask in a hush. Joel hears what you’re really asking: Did I do the right thing?

“You did the best you could with what you had, darlin’.”

You nod, mulling over his sage take on your decision to end Matthew’s life. “And was my best good enough?” The last bit comes out in a sort of choke, your emotions getting the better of you.

“You are good enough,” Joel is quick to emphasize. “And it’s high time you started livin’ the life you deserve.”

“I only want that if it’s with you.”

“And I’m up for the challenge of makin’ up for lost time,” he replies with a soft smile.

The tortured cries have died away, lost into the high pitched sound of the wet spots being scorched from the insides of the logs.

“But what about Rachel and the baby?” You fiddle with the button on your shirt. Even though they were better off without Matthew, you still felt the guilt of leaving her with the burden of birthing and raising a child on her own. When he doesn’t respond right away, you turn to Joel. His body is tense with the knowledge of something, another hidden truth.

“Tell me,” you urge him in a hush. “We’ve made it this far. You won’t scare me. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

He pulls you closer, some form of self-soothing perhaps, and relents more of the endless dedication he holds for you. “He has no business havin’ a bloodline.” He’s quiet for a moment, weighing something in his mind. Finding the right words. You wait for him, just like he always waits for you. “Won’t be too long now before she turns up to the clinic to find out she’s lost it.”

Lost it.

Lost it?

“You… what does—”

“She won’t know any different. Prolly chalk it up to the stress of everythin’. And she wasn’t hurt in the process, neither, so don’t go thinkin’ I’d–”

“Who did it?”

Joel finally looks at you. “Somebody in the greenhouses owed me. Got a knack for medicinal herb stuff.”

“So–So, what? They made her take something–”

“Nobody made her do anythin’,” he’s quick to correct. “It was mixed in with her food rations. Had the main dose of it prepared in a cafeteria meal she had, too, just in case.” He shrugs. “ Wanted to be sure.”

You swallow hard, not letting the mix of emotions bleed through to your expression. You don’t want Joel to think you don’t trust him, that you’re scared of him, scared of someone who was capable of such a thing - not after everything you’d been through.

“So, you– whoever it was, they gave her something to make the pregnancy fail?” You already know the answer, but you want him to say it.

“Yes.”

You nod, awash in your thoughts and mixed feelings over this splintered arm of a fucked up situation. Joel is unmoving beside you, waiting in anticipation of your blessing or reprimand. 

“No part of him exists anymore,” you say. It’s a plain observation, but you both sit in the spoken impact of it. “No part of him exists anymore, and the world is better for it.”

Your body feels weak and raw, but it’s unlike the weight of stress and danger that’s been plaguing you for so long. No, it’s the fragile heap of newness, the tentative foray of new life. Joel holds you close, coddles you, as you both stare wordlessly into the blazing fire. He watches you from the corner of his eye, only shifting when you meet his gaze. Thoughtful. Quiet.

“You ready to go home?”

Home. You smile at the thought of it, the house you now share, but know that home is truly wherever you and Joel are together. He grins back in understanding.

“Yeah,” you softly sigh, content and sleepy. “Let’s go home, Joel.”

Thank you thank you thank you for all the love and patience with this series! I've poured so much into this to get it right and tell the sort of story I feel deserves to be told. I am so proud of it (and that I finally finished it!), and I hope that it can heal parts of you as it did for me when I was writing it.

Many thanks to @jupiter-soups and @ghoulettesinspace for beta'ing and helping see this story come to a close.

Thank you for reading. I love you all. 💜

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

tagging: @csarab615 @maryrhodalouandted @wrathofcats @fckyeapedrothots99 @spookyxsam @purplesucksbutts @untamedheart81 @electriclasso @pedroficrecblog @ladyscarlettdixon @fan-of-encouragement @blackvelveteen1339 @defijones @ploddingalong @clickergossip @akah565 @rose-with-few-thorns @miraclesabound @elegantmusicdragon @amneris21 @oldmanfromthewoods @sabbs118

@bowie-sunbaenim @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @uudelally @urlocalcr4ckwhor3 @drunk-and-capable @vickywallace @gaiahypothesims @lilipads @ashleyfilm @hiddenbabynyc @marvelouslyme96 @sleepyinspiration @reneerocks3617 @biast @sweetly-yours-and-mine @voguementhols @imperfectspatula @h0neyb3ars @whatsliferightnow @fuckthatbazinga @bigbutchenergee @mysticalsuitkryptonite @weepingkittybear

cont'd in comments

[juju-or-anya]

Season one from Eloise’ perspective must have been so scary. Imagine one day all of your sisters are children (the concept of teenagers being separate from children comes in the 20th century) and the next your older sister is in the marriage mart. The marriage mart was never a tangible thing to you before because your brothers do not have the same pressure to marry. But now your sister will soon have a different name. She will move away. She may marry someone awful who uses her as a baby machine until she dies. And all you can think about is your mother almost dying in childbirth. Then your brother arranges her marriage with some old creep. And when that is finally over a prince starts courting her and he might take her to another country entirely. I just don’t get people who say she was being a brat. As if they wouldn’t be scared and emotional.

Additionally, it is crucial to remember that young women like Eloise and Daphne were kept completely in the dark about fundamental aspects of adult life, such as marriage and sexuality. This lack of information and preparation not only exacerbates their fears and sense of vulnerability, but also leaves them defenseless against the challenges the future holds. Education on these topics was practically nonexistent, and open dialogue was virtually unheard of. These young women were thrust into an unknown world without the necessary tools to face it with confidence and security.

For all these reasons, it is completely unjust and simplistic to label Eloise as spoiled. Her behavior is deeply influenced by fear, concern for her sisters' well-being, and a lack of control over her own future. It is a human and understandable reaction to an overwhelming situation filled with uncertainties. Eloise not only faces fear for her sisters' well-being, but also the existential terror of an imposed and unknown future.

Moreover, Eloise is acutely aware that marriage, in many cases, means sacrificing everything she loves and everything she is for her husband. This often means giving up her freedom, her thoughts, her desires, ambitions, and passions to become the perfect wife and mother, a submissive figure to her husband. This is a daunting and suffocating prospect for a young woman with her own aspirations and dreams. The imposition of these expectations is an immense and unfair burden that obliterates any possibility of self-determination for women like Eloise.

It is truly appalling that society expects her to stop being herself to "mature" and to willingly accept a fate she sees as a gilded cage. The social pressure to conform to a role she does not want is immense, and her refusal to marry, seen as foolishness and selfishness, is actually a form of resistance against an expectation that nullifies her individuality. To dismiss her struggle and fear as a mere childish tantrum is a profound misunderstanding and lack of empathy towards her situation. It is utterly despicable to expect her to sacrifice her essence and her dreams to fit into a mold imposed by a society that does not value her true self.

For those who criticize Eloise, it is essential to remember that she lives in a society that forces her to fit into a rigid and oppressive mold. Criticizing her behavior is to ignore the immense pressures and unjust restrictions she faces. It is easy to judge from a position of privilege and freedom, but for Eloise, reality is a constant battle to maintain her identity and desires in an environment that systematically denies them. Every moment of resistance on her part is not a display of immaturity, but of incredible bravery and determination.

Furthermore, we cannot ignore that the lack of preparation and education about adult life is a deliberate strategy to keep women in a state of submission and dependency. Criticizing Eloise for reacting with fear and resistance is, in essence, supporting a system that perpetuates ignorance and oppression. It is an act of extreme cruelty to expect a young woman to meekly accept a fate that dehumanizes her and reduces her to a mere object within a marital contract.

People who dare to judge Eloise should first attempt to understand the magnitude of her struggle. It is easy to call her spoiled from the comfort of a modern context where women have more rights and freedoms. But in her time, resisting marriage and the destiny imposed by others is a sign of exceptional strength. The real foolishness and selfishness lie in those who cannot see beyond their own prejudices and understand the validity of her fears and resistances. Eloise's struggle is not just personal; it is an act of defiance against an oppressive social structure that seeks to extinguish her spirit and aspirations.

In summary, any criticism of Eloise must be reevaluated in light of a deep understanding of her context and the terrible pressures she is under. Her apparent rebelliousness is nothing more than a natural and justified response to a system that tries to strip her of her humanity and her future. Let us defend Eloise not only for what she represents but also as a symbol of all women who fight for their right to be themselves in a world that often denies them this.

[chemkin-c-chickin]

Listen, I like researching things. For people doing romance in the Planet of the Apes fandom, here's some interesting but kind of scary Ape social group facts!

1. There is an Alpha Male and Female. No, they are not a king and queen.

2. Chimps operate on a complex social and political system. Alpha male takes priority over mating rights but it doesn't mean lower ranking males won't try to sneak off with a female.

3. Females try to mate with as many males aa possible to reduce the chance of her potential baby getting killed by a male

4. Alpha males don't just act lazy. They patrol, get food, make friends with lower ranks, basically makes sure everybody likes him by doing favors.

5. Males fight for dominance with violence. Females do not, instead the lower ranked girls do favors for the alpha female like groom her or share food so she'll have their back

6. Sex is 99% political. It is used as a tool to gain favor and status

7. 'Courting' can happen in a number of ways depending on the region and troop. Mostly commonly, when a male wants to mate, he will uhh.. "reveal himself" and shake some tree branches. Or he'll just start beating the female up and make her submit. Most rarely, a make and female will leave the group to mate in privacy.

8. Chimps are emotional and are one of the few mammals understand and actively seek revenge. Example: a couple went to a sanctuary to give the chimp they hand-raised a birthday cake. Only for their chimp. The other individuals saw this chimp get special treatment so they went over and beat the shit outta that chimp.

9. When a younger male tries to rile up the others and goes 'Yo lets jump the old alpha! I'll be new alpha!' And everyone else collectively goes 'We don't like you though. You were never nice to us' one of two things will happen. A. The young male will be ignored and he will have to try and apologize to the alpha by grooming him or getting him food or something in order to stay on the troop. B. The alpha and the other males will jump the usurper and cripple him. Horribly.

10. Despite the violent tendencies to humans, themselves, and other primates, chimps are capable of great tenderness and love. Jane Goodall once released a chimp back into the wild. This male chimp hopped up on the cage and gave Goodall a hug in gratitude before he went on his way. Another video I saw was a female chimp at a sanctuary or zoo who had her baby taken away for surgery. She thought the baby died and when the keepers gently coaxed her into a room where they had her baby bundled up in blankets, she prepared to grieve... until she saw the little hand moving and scooped her baby up and held it to her chest in what I can only describe as sheer relief and love.

Thats all I researched so far. Horrifying but also so deeply fascinating!

PSA Chimps are not pets. They are wild. You will never domesticate one. They either belong in a reputable sanctuary with other chimps or in the wild. Same goes for all primates.

Bonus!

Cornelia, Caesar's wife in the second movie onwards, is probably older than him. When choosing a female to mate with, males will go for older females because they are more experienced and just the fact that they're older means their survival and social skills are better compared to younger inexperienced females.