#if this doesn’t make sense i apologize

[dreamersbcll]

“Sam and Tara”

A The Last Of Us x Scream crossover for @dxcinhx

—————————————————————————-

Sam could not quite recall when the virus took over their lives.

It wasn’t a virus. Tara said that it was a fungal infection. It had originated from a faulty batch of flour and spread like wildfire across the world. Soon nations were ablaze and mayhem had taken over.

Luckily for the sisters, they were able to escape the cities before the bombs went off. Sam had packed two go-bags, threw Tara in the car, and drove upstate. She figured that the pair would have a luckier time lost in the wood rather than in a big city rampant with the infected.

Once they got safely into the woods, they parked alongside a couple of trees, finally letting themselves panic. Tara had a full-blown asthma attack, almost to the point that Sam thought she was going to lose her baby sister to a wrong decision. Luckily Sam had robbed a pharmacy before she picked up Tara, and had ransacked all the albuterol she could find. If she did her math right, Tara would be able to live for at least a year with all the medication Sam stole.

After she got Tara calmed down, the pair pulled out a map and began to make a plan. They were going to have to find somewhere to survive. It was late summer and it would soon be autumn. Upstate New York was bound to be chilly, and Sam didn’t pack enough warm clothing.

It took a couple of days and one perilous trip to a gas station for the pair to realize that they needed to go by foot. Sam figured out that California would be the safest place, or at least farther from the snowy states the better. She also knew that Sidney had a safe house for the sisters. The woman and her family were still at home for the summer. The pair would have a safe house if they could make it to Woodsboro.

If they started trekking now, they should hopefully make it to at least Utah by early November. That’s if everything went smoothly, and they found food and shelter as needed.

It was risky. It was unsafe. And it was downright stupid.

But it only took one look from Tara to know that it was the right thing to do.

And so the pair left. They trekked through mountains, hills, rivers, and endless prairies. Sam learned what it felt like to kill the undead. Tara learned how to kill. The pair learned together what kind of people they could trust and those they couldn’t- through a minor kidnapping incident and the death of someone they grew close with. Kirby Reed was a good friend to them.

Was.

They then learned they only had each other, and no one else could be trusted. Not even their old friends, except for the two they were walking to. That old nickname Chad had for them, ‘the core four’. That was the only group they could trust. Even if the twins couldn’t be found, Sam had to trust that the women in California would be their new group.

And they were so close. So fucking close.

They got to Utah, and all hell broke loose.

——-

She knew that they shouldn't have gotten themselves cornered in Salt Lake City.

Sam had heard rumors about the city. How it was overrun by FEDRA. When she took a watch while Tara slept, she listened to the radio, searching for a signal from Sidney. In the last communication Sam had with the woman while in a radio tower, Sidney had warned her about the city.

Ultimately Sam didn’t find another signal, but she stumbled onto a rebellion station. The city had been overthrown by some sort of resistance, and FEDRA was scattered.

Through the numerous broadcasts, Sam figured out that the resistance was hunting the remaining FEDRA members. What Sam didn’t realize is that they were hunting down outsiders as well.

So when the pair get stuck in an office building's secret hideout, Sam realizes there’s one way this could go.

One. Sam sneaks Tara out and gets her sister to pretend to be injured and seek help. Only then would Tara be safe.

Two. There had to be a second plan because Tara hated the first one. Option two was that the sisters' would hide in the attic until their food supply runs out, and hopefully, by then they would have hatched a third plan.

On the last day, they got insanely lucky. A pair of angels had stumbled into their nest. Sam had no idea how, but the twins had found them in Salt Lake City. A one in a millionth chance.

Luckily they were still in good shape, and perfectly capable of an escape plan. Chad had even offered to use his body as a shield, even though Mindy beat him up for the suggestion. The four hatched a plan: escape through the sewers.

So when nightfall hit, the four vanished.

——-

In hindsight, four twenty-something-year-olds in a pitch-black sewer system wasn’t a great idea.

But it worked somehow. Through the cover of the night, the four kids escaped, making it to the sewer system. There they stumbled upon a safe room underground, clearly meant for kids.

While Chad and Tara played a game of soccer against the concrete wall, the two sisters turned to each other. With one look, a lifetime of understanding passed between the two. Sam couldn’t find the words, but Mindy could.

“Do you think we will make it?” she asked softly, her eyes flickering over to her brother.

Sam stared at Tara, watching her baby sister giggle as Chad missed the goal completely. Even in the middle of an apocalypse, her sister could still be the light in Sam’s life. She didn’t know how Tara did it. Choosing joy and light each day, even though the world around them was falling apart.

She shifted in her seat, focusing on Mindy. “I don’t know. But I will die before I let Tara down,”.

Mindy nodded, and the pair looked away from each other. There was too much to say and not enough at the same time.

Eventually, they went to sleep, preparing to leave by nightfall the next day.

——-

The suburbs were a different story.

Honestly, Sam should’ve known that it was rigged to be a trap. The resistance would find them. After all, they were a group of kids, and Chad couldn’t whisper to save his life.

Unfortunately, they got separated. Sam ended up in a safe house with two dead bodies (killed by her own hand), while Tara was stuck in an abandoned car.

The twins were stuck behind a few cars, and as the townspeople moved in on them, all hell broke loose.

It turns out that the people of Salt Lake City had trapped all the infected underground in the tunnels, and when all the commotion and shooting happened, a hole opened up, letting all the infected roam free.

Sam’s brain went on autopilot, and she started shooting. Shooting the infected who attacked the car her sister sat in, picking them off one by one. The twins managed to pull Tara out and drag her with, them while Sam covered them with gunfire.

After a perilous half an hour, they escaped and marched their way to an abandoned motel.

That was the last night the whole core four were alive.

——

Sam should’ve checked Tara over. She should’ve revisited every mark on her baby sister’s skin and combed through every single hair on her head.

Maybe that way she could’ve stopped her sister from turning.

Mindy and Sam chose to let their siblings sleep in the queen beds, and they shared the couch. Tara had begged Sam to sleep with her, to cuddle her like they usually did. Sam refused, stating that she needed to be ready in case there was an attack.

If only she knew that would be her last night with Tara.

The two siblings slept on the couch, blissfully unaware of the chaos to come. Sam dreamt of a safe home with her sister, the two finally leaving their weapons behind and becoming soft again.

She was woken up by yelling. A man yelling. Chad. She and Mindy fell off the couch, guns in hand, blindly following the hollering.

Everything that happened next was a blur.

Chad was on the floor, holding Tara down, yelling at Mindy to find a rope. Sam held her gun out shakily, her heart falling to her feet at the sight of her sister.

Tara wasn’t Tara anymore. Her eyes were bloodshot and damn near black, and her mouth covered in dried-up blood. There was some sort of tendril coming out of her mouth. The fungus.

Tara was infected.

And Chad was pinning her down, as her sister struggled beneath him.

Within a minute, Mindy had rope and was tying up Tara's hands.

Sam’s world went sideways due to Chad’s sudden shift in timing. He misjudged how close Mindy was to finishing tying up Tara, and he prematurely let go of Tara's arms.

Suddenly her sister was on top of Mindy, trying to bite and claw at her. Chad started yelling for Sam to do something, anything, while Mindy screamed bloody murder.

The next thing Sam heard was the thud of her baby sister’s body hitting the floor and her gun going off. One bang, and Sam no longer had Tara. Mindy was safe, but Tara’s body lay limp at her feet.

Sam started hyperventilating, the world around her spinning. She touched the end of the gun, not even caring for the burning sensation running through her fingers. Her eyes were wild as she alternated between looking at Tara's body and Chad’s shocked face. Nothing was making sense to her.

“I- What did I do? What did I do?” she stuttered, her voice cracking.

Chad held his hands up, walking slowly to Sam. She shook, her mouth dry and her mind blank. There was too much input. The gun was heavy in her hands. Why wasn’t Tara moving? So much blood was flowing out of her body. Did Sam tell Tara that she loved her? Why was Sam holding a smoking gun? Did people normally have that much blood in their bodies? Why wasn’t Tara moving?

Inching closer to her, Chad reached out a hand, his face sickly pale. “Sam, hand me the gun please,” he slowly said, his empty hand shaking.

Sam slowly turned to Chad, her mouth feeling like cotton. Words. She needed words.

Why wasn’t Tara moving?

“What did I do?” she whispered again, inching slowly away from Chad.

He held his hands out, trying to close in on the gun. Mindy watched the whole thing play out, horror and Tara's blood splashed across her face.

“Sam,” Mindy shakily whispered.

“Give me the gun Sam. Sam. The gun. Give it to me,” Chad pleaded.

This wasn’t real. She didn’t kill her baby sister. None of this was happening.

Why wasn’t Tara moving?

Sam knew what she needed to do. Right as Chad lurched for the gun, she cocked it and pulled the trigger against her temple.

At least she was free now. At least she was with Tara.

——-

As Sam’s lifeless body hit the floor, Mindy screamed, and Chad yelled.

The twins looked at the bodies of their family and looked back at each other.

Sam and Tara were no more.

[ghostdrinkssoup]

the thing that really gets me about mizumono is that will doesn’t even fight back. he saw alana mangled outside. he knows jack might be dead. he has a loaded gun in hand. but not once does he try to hurt hannibal. he doesn’t even shoot. will just lets him caress his cheek, fingers curling into his hair. there’s no resistance. when hannibal stabs him, will leans into it. he doesn’t want to escape. and it all hurts so badly because it’s not like will tricked hannibal into loving him; he simply persuaded him that he might love him back. because that’s what will thought hannibal did to him in s1, and only now does he realise that maybe it was more real for hannibal than he thought. or worse, that maybe he wants to be with hannibal regardless of whether hannibal genuinely loves him. that maybe it’s worth it to be close to him, even if his touch splits his stomach open

[huntingrays]

solangelo/valgrace au/prompt:

au where will solace is a famous singer who writes all his songs. he’s known for writing songs that are either personal to him or are inspired by experiences in his life. he’s been known to include easter eggs in every part of his releases, from lyrics to album names to music videos. he was known to encourage fans to search for them and discuss them amongst fellow fans.

recently, he’s been in a bit of a slump. he hasn’t had any inspiration to write any songs. with no love life and a quiet, uneventful life, he hasn’t had much to write about. since his songs are so personal to him, he doesn’t want to make things up to write about.

inspiration finally hits when a friend of his, leo, returns home out of the blue. he’d been living in another country with his girlfriend but, according to him, their relationship turned sour months ago and kept getting worse until it crashed and burned. now, he was back and ready to heal by spending time with his friends.

as their friend group is hanging out, will notices things he hadn’t put much thought to regarding jason and leo’s relationship. specifically, he notices how jason acts around leo. he sees the longing glances, the lingering touches, the way he can read leo like a book, the physical affection, the inside jokes, the way they bounce off each other, the playful bickering, all of it. he sees how hard his friend is pining and that they should cut the crap and get together. they would be a good couple.

with the return of his friend comes inspiration. each time he hangs out with the two, lyrics and melodies fly around in the head, ready to be brought into the world. he’s reluctant to write about his friends. it was a line he hadn’t crossed before. he wasn’t sure how they would feel about their perceived emotions being out in the public eye.

however, no other inspiration comes so he bites down his morals and writes a song. it was only one song, one that would never see the light of day. it was just to get back in the swing of song writing. it was only one song. but then one song became two. and two became three. before he knew it, he had a whole album inspired by his oblivious friends.

most of the songs were written from jason’s point of view about leo. he wrote them that way since he could see feelings from jason’s end but was unsure if they were reciprocated on leo’s end.

after a lot of debating, will decides to record and release the album. he figures his friends would never guess it was about them and, if they did, maybe it would cause them to finally get together. so, he records and released the album, which he titled ‘te amo’.

however, will forgot about his fans and the fact his friends weren’t public figures. so, while the fans were searching for easter eggs, they didn’t go in the correct direction.

they assumed the songs were about nico di angelo, a fellow artist and rival of his when it came to his career. they had similar levels of popularity and their albums often fought against each other in the charts. also, their fans seemed to hate each other. will didn’t have any ill feelings towards him, especially since he knew nico was friends with jason and leo as well.

the fans don’t pick up on who the inspiration is, but nico does. he goes to will and he’s surprised that nico not only picked up on it but noticed how their friends had been acting as well.

they decide they’ll work together to try and subtly get their friends other through music. to settle their fans, they start a (fake) relationship. meanwhile, they work together to write songs about their oblivious friends. nico writes from leo’s point of view and will writes from jason’s.

it wasn’t meant to be anything apart from helping their friends. however, along the way, will ended up catching feelings.

[napping-sapphic]

Love is so freaky and messed up to the point that sometimes i do wish and hope SO badly that no one ever has to suffer being in love with me specifically because it honestly sounds absolutely unbearable

[zprite-x]

DST Modern AU except the survivors are still from 1920s they just get moved 1 century ahead when they escape and have a huge gap of missing knowledge of what happened the past 100 years

There are of course consequences from social points and the mental toll of “I just spent 100 years in a place adjacent to hell”

[ray-elgatodormido]

Idk just some doodles.

Dynasty Warriors but I remind Koei that Lü Bu had a wife that isn’t Diao Chan. She probably wasn’t a buff 6ft+ Malay lady who crushes weaklings under her shoes but idc he’d totally be into that.

You can’t convince me he wouldn’t be enthusiastically doing whatever would make the women in his life happy.

[lusi-raul]

It’s so funny how Chayanne the egg is cursed with the 4th wall breaking no matter which admin plays him AHAHAHAHA. From being terrorized by Phil for being Cucurucho and Challulah, being feared by citizens prone to commiting illegal acts, being bothered by other members for cucurucho related stuff, being called “boss” by his egg siblings and now Etoiles teasing him because he beat him as the Code. Our little egg has so many part time jobs my gosh. He now also took on the role of babysitter for Tubbo lol. Anything to support his other poor foolish skull headed father. Give our poor little egg a break, justice for Chayanne.

I think all three admins who mainly play chayanne, QNPC01, 02, and 06 should all be considered main admins at this point. They all suffer the same fate of the non existent 4th wall, they are literally just the same egg lol. I have a headcannon that the difference in personality (def not admins wink wink), are just a result of the change in Chayanne’s environment.

When he is played by QNPC02 aka Challulah, he becomes much more mellow and less active mostly because those are moments when he is not with Tallulah. He doesn’t need to be as alert and vigilant since he doesn’t need to protect her. He doesn’t jump and run around because without Tallulah, Phil can speedrun his tasks better and doesn’t get bored as much. He also talks more because between both of them, He says he’s not good with words so Tallulah is the one who does most of the talking. When Tallulah is not around he has to carry the conversation more.

QNPC01 or Nussa is the og Chayanne admin and he is very much the little warrior we all know and love. He loves to cook and does the checkerboard potato crate pattern on the ground when he’s bored. QNPC06 is mostly the same but he just forgot how to speak Spanish anymore since he rarely had the chance to use it since Missa left. But Missa is back now and for sure he will teach his child Spanish again.

I think 06 has started to become Chayanne’s main admin and I am not complaining. He is doing such a good job specially because sometimes I forget that he’s not 01 until I see his username on the minimap ahaha. Even so, I’ll be lying if I say I don’t miss Nussa as Chayanne. I hope he comes back some time when he’s available. As much as I look forward to the new, refreshing, and angst loaded dynamic between Missa and 06, I wanted 01 to interact with Missa again so bad since Nussa was the one who Missa was with in the beginning and has all the memories of their time together.

[minyardapologist]

Some Andrew thoughts for tonight:

most of us already take Nora’s extra content with a grain of salt, but I want to talk specifically about Andrew and smiling/crying.

I think most of the fandom doesn’t agree with Nora saying he never cries or smiles, but in a lot of fanfics there’s the issue of making him too OOC, too feeling, too emotional too soon. His apathy and his quietness and disregulated emotions are so important to the story and to the character itself because that was all necessary for him to survive his formative years. Not taking him as he is, the complete apathy and all, and to fundamentally change his character’s emotional state is a disrespect to his character.

However: to go as far to say in his entire life he never experiences a smile or finally breaks a tiny bit is cruel imo. and making a human character so ostracized from their own emotions and to say that never shifts is unrealistic and unfair.

I believe that Andrew will give Neil the smallest of smiles, and it will be just for them. The trilogy itself is only a small time window in their emotional journeys, (the human brain isn’t fully developed until ~25) and they have so much room to grow. I’m talking about Andrew having enough distance from his past and pain to lay in his apartment alone and actually shed a tear, either for the pain he’s experienced or for the happiness? Tranquility? He has now. He will never be a sobber and he probably will never do it in front of Neil, but it will happen because he’s human and the dam will break eventually.

And he and Aaron will hug on multiple occasions because he knows deep down he can’t stand losing his brother to the unknown again.

I think I get what Nora was trying to say with that but I’d like to think I’ve given a better picture of what my understanding is of his character. Andrew won’t change as a person (and he doesn’t have to) but he will feel more eventually, because for the first time in his life it will be safe to.

[hms-lurking-latinist]

Are there any good Lieutenant Hornblower/Mutiny/Retribution fics out there focusing on the non-officers of the Renown? We see a couple of them (I am on record as being fascinated by Hobbs), but there’s a whole ship’s company and they must all have opinions. There seems to be a captain’s party and a lieutenants’ party among them and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s others who don’t care but just think discord among the officers gets us all killed (or is an opportunity…). In the film Matthews says, iirc, that a third of the men would follow the lieutenants (or was it two-thirds, I don’t remember the proportion) - I want to see him sounding them out! The captain will have had a steward - how does he feel about it? Heck I’d even settle for the other midshipmen, I’m almost certain they’d never have just Wellard on a ship that size. I’m not well-researched enough to do any of this justice myself but I bet someone out there has been.

[doubleappled]

The thing with the names

… is under the cut bc of s3 spoilers…

We’ve noticed how NYC chef calls Carmy “Bergazzo,” right, and how Shapiro then calls Luca “Lucas”? We see this?

And then we see Chef Terry at the end asking Carmy to call her by her first name the next time they’re together?

That’s something.

[kha0sd3m0n]

There’s something that hurts with the knowledge that even when Rae ‘shatters’ he breaks into pieces that aren’t technically *his*

Pieces of gods so heavily surrounded by trauma.

No piece of *Rae* was lost.

Just pieces of those who intertwined with him; against his will.

[wickmitz]

was once again glancing at the lackadaisy reddit and i genuinely feel a little crazy about how people perceive the wick and mitzi arc from retinue to sneakthief? or, honestly, their arc in general. to act as though wick is some patron saint greatly amuses me when it’s implied by mitzi and the comic that wick had either proposed a business deal himself or had been very amendable to talk about it after their kiss and / or other intimate acts last night … mitzi didn’t pull this out of her ass! she did not put this upon wick randomly. it was something they mutually agreed to do, and given how hard wick tries to wiggle away from the conversation without outright saying no ( aka giving excuses to stall ) i would even guess he essentially already agreed to such a deal, in the throes of passion, only for him to not fully mean it later. this doesn’t mean it was right at all for her to then steal from wick! this isn’t me excusing that! but wick isn’t some poor meow meow either in this scenario, even if he is the ‘lesser’ evil overall.

and tbh i also think the conversation was doomed from the start : wick was horrifically exhausted and was still too shaken up by rocky’s ‘joke’ to fully engage with mitzi, as well as finally having church’s warning start to weigh on him … and then there’s mitzi, who wasn’t faring any better! what with viktor out of commission, asa turning on her, mordecai threatening her, and then having spent most of the afternoon hearing her dead husband’s name be thrown around. in order to hurt her and scare her into obedience, mind you. like, neither were in any state to discuss business or romance!! so it’s no surprise it went poorly. especially when both of them were equally sore and testy during their date.

[thealiveshadow]

Looking at all of the takes this chapter, and I thought about this Tokyo Ghoul quote that Eto Yoshimura wrote in her book “Dear Kafka”

"That time, so that no one (not even Father) would notice, I secretly rewrote the summary.

What cannot change can only be broken. 

This is so to me, who left behind everything necessary inside the womb."

(There’s also this translation, which I think fits better into what AFO’s character, even if there are only a few words that were changed: “Then I, hidden from everyone (particularly father), stealthily rewrote the outline. Things that cannot be changed, can only be broken. From the view of I, who left all needed things in the womb.”)

And how this quote in a way truly summarizes, especially the last line, the way All for One thinks of himself and a way we, the audience, can view the way he thinks of himself. For example, the first line can be used in reference to how he changed the summary of the comic books him and Yoichi read together, in order to better fit his own wishes and desires. He doesn't accept the fact that Hero had defeated the Villain in the end, and decides to simply stop reading when the villain had won and become the Demon King, hereby rewriting the summary of the book to fit his own needs and desires. (So in that context, it should be "(not even Brother) would notice", but we'll let it slide this time for the sake of coherence) He then tries to LARP that twisted idea and that's how you end up with the current AFO, a man who thinks of himself to be the Demon King of comic books, and does what ever he possibly can to bring that reality of the summary of the comic books he rewrote.

I think the second line of the quote also is an indication of the way AFO thinks. To the core he doesn't believe that people cannot change, evidenced by the way he reacts when Lady Nagant is now fighting on the side of the heroes and when he starts losing to what he defines as a ''bunch of extras". He does not anticipate people to step outside of the lines that he drew around them and when they do go outside of those ideas and change (you know how people do) he throws tantrums and and refuses to acknowledge the fact that each person has their own autonomy and character, far beyond any neat little box he has put them into. And what he cannot change he wants to break. He wanted to break Yoichi by forcefully bestowing a quirk onto him, he wanted to break Tomura by grooming and manipulating him for the majority of his life into believing that he was simply born evil, and he wants to break all of the "extras" such as Stain, Jiro, Hawks, and Bakugou who go against the stereotypes he has placed them into, because to him these people can not change their so called "true nature", and therefore can only be broken.

Lastly, the third line, which I have been waiting impatiently to get to. I think this last line, truly shows the way AFO thinks of himself. In the chapter, All For One is shown to have cannibalized his mother as soon as he was born, and has been described as someone who simply took from others, without any regard, because he thought that anyone who could not give him *something* was useless. One could say that this is an indication of how All For One was evil from his birth, and therefore has no redeeming qualities. BUT this is My Hero Academia, good sir, where everyone is human. While framed in a horror like and grim way, it important to look past that and see the AFO/Yoichi backstory through the lens of BNHA's themes, which are all about humanizing villains and are against dehumanization in general. Imagine being newborn with a dead mother with no source of nutrition, and you have to eat her. You grow up with no one to protect your child self, no name, no sense of identity, no social security net, no one to help you differentiate between right and wrong, you are constantly being hunted for simply existing, and you are responsible for someone who is far weaker than you and have to find ways to protect yourself and him as well. So, of course you are going to grow up twisted, with disturbing ideals and cruel habits. But AFO and a lot of the MHA fandom doesn't see those factors, or refuse to acknowledge them. That's why I think this third line really displays AFO's mindset how he thinks he was evil from the womb. All things necessary to interact and engage with the world in a healthy way, such as the ability to show affection, to be caring, to be understanding, to have the methods of socialization, and have a acceptance of the autonomy of other individuals, and to be able to face and understand you own feelings in general, are abilities that have to be learned, they don't simply come to you in dream at night. But All for One does not think that, rather he refuses to humanize himself, and continues to play the role of the Demon King in the story he is trying to write, forever convinced that he was born like that from his mother's womb.

In summary, I think this quote from Eto Yoshimura really provides insight into the character AFO is and what he thinks of himself. He rewrote the summary of the comic books him and Yoichi read together, he doesn't believe that people can be changed, only be broken into what he wants them to be, and that he truly believes he has been evil from the very beginning, and any kind of "humanlike" trait he could have, was all left behind in his mother's womb.

[skoulsons]

I’m The Reason You Won’t Come Home

• gif by @maryjanewatscns

• title from Ethel Cain’s song “A House in Nebraska.” aka Joel and Ellie’s song.

Relationships: Joel & Ellie, Joel & Tommy, Tommy & Ellie

Word count: ~8.7k (I did not want it to go on this long)

Warnings: Minor depictions of torture and violence, some blood, death.

Authors note: This is straight sadness. Ever since I discovered tlou2 and his death, this has always been a thought. It’s nearly a year and a half ongoing, so I just sort of spit a year and a half’s worth of thoughts into…whatever the heck this is. I cried a lot writing this, but I’m also a sensitive wimp, so that could be why.

Summary:

The second he’s gone, she starts to break. She just told Joel last night about wanting to try and forgive him. To try and get back on good terms. To try for what they want to be; what they deserve to be. And she almost just lost him. But now, she has the chance to get them back home and to start that journey of reconciliation.

Some extra notes:

If you ship them I might just fill your house with mosquitos on a hot summer day and lock you inside

I wrote this in a combination of game and show canon, so there are moments, callbacks, and descriptions from both

I don’t think there’s anything that classifies as a tlou2 spoiler, but if there is it’s pretty minor

This is more self-indulgent than anything else. If something seems out of character, I apologize. Like I said, incredibly self-indulgent

I love physical touch and that is…very evident in this

Canon divergence from tlou2 in a few ways, obviously. One of them is there being no door at the bottom of the stairs as I genuinely forgot about it and I am….7.9k words in as I write this. so.

(A very big thank you to my beautiful friend @ellie-licious for beta reading and helping me figure out a specific part of this fic <3 and in general for being a great friend to me for many reasons. I love and cherish you very much brother and this is for you)

~~~~

Ellie wakes up on the floor, cheek pressed to the cold basement tile. She can see two blurry figures a few feet from her. One is limp, almost like a rag doll. The other is moving, struggling with the limp one. Sitting it up? She can’t tell. Ellie’s ears are ringing and her vision is blurry; her nose and eyes throbbing as her throat feels like sandpaper.

Tommy is the struggling figure across the room, attempting to wake up an unconscious Joel. Tommy’s working on sitting him up against the glass. Joel has a heartbeat, he’s breathing. He’s alive. But he’s hurt, bad. Tommy’s hands find Joel’s neck and then the sides of his face, tapping him and shouting to try and wake the older. Joel’s face is bloody. He has a slice over his left cheekbone, a gash across his jugular, a chip out of his ear, a broken nose, a cut on his right temple that stretches down to his jawline, fresh blood still coming from them. His hair had an even coating of blood through the strands.

“Dammit, Joel, come on! I need you awake. Come the fuck on, Joel!” Tommy yelled, patting at his brother’s neck for something. A cough, a groan, a twitch of his fingers or a pull at the corner of his mouth. But Joel gave nothing.

Ellie stirs slightly, groaning into the floor as her vision focuses more and her ears ring into her skull. She coughs some blood up, catching Tommy’s attention. He takes his hands back from Joel’s neck, placing steady hands to his shoulders to keep him in place against the glass before crossing the room to Ellie’s side. Tommy kneels on the ground beside her, placing a hand on the back of her shoulder as she comes to.

“Hey…” He says, a hesitant smile on his face.

“Tommy?” She asks, voice slurring as she speaks, eyes still trying to adjust to the man kneeling above her and figure across the room. Joel.

“Yeah, s’me. You okay?”

Reality rushes back to her. You’re gonna fucking die! Let him go. We didn’t think anyone was gonna show up! The hell did you expect? You want what I want, right? His face. The people. Didn’t she cut a guy? Wasn’t Tommy unconscious? She was kicked in the ribs. There’s blood on the glass. His blood. He was groaning. He was-

Ellie started to roll on her side, her vision rolling with her. “Joel….he was-“

Tommy cuts her off. “He’s okay for now. Can't get him to wake up though-“

“Where-“ is he. She places her palm to the tile, trying to push herself up off the floor, her ribs aching at the movement.

“No, Ellie. You need to relax-“

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy. I need to see him,” she bites, and Tommy knows arguing with her will go nowhere. She’s stubborn, just like her father.

She stands up, pushing past Tommy’s instruction for her to stay down. She holds onto his arms as she stands, steadying herself before walking alongside him. Tommy helps her take baby steps across the room, walking through pools of dried blood. His dried blood.

Joel’s back is straight against the wall, head hung slightly to the right. His legs are extended in front of him, both of his hands in his lap. Tommy lowers Ellie on Joel’s left side, Ellie kneeling down beside him, taking his left hand in hers. She interlocks her fingers with his, something that’s felt so lost between them the past four years.

She held his hand a number of times during that Winter. After she went back to him in that basement and they held onto each other, it was easier. And after David, it was almost frequent. When they’d be walking and a twig snapped, she reached for him. When they spotted a rabbit or a deer, she reached for him. Nights around the fire when the images and the words and the actions played on repeat, she sought out his hand. She’d scooch across the snowy ground to his side, sliding her hand in his without a second thought. He’d give her a tight squeeze immediately before letting his hand relax in her grip. She fell asleep like that one night, waking up to her hand still in his while his rifle rested across his lap.

But his rifle was resting against his pack before she fell asleep, at least six feet from where they sat. He had gotten up that night, releasing her hand to get his rifle to keep watch. But instead of staying up and watching over her, he settled back beside her, taking her hand in his again. She didn’t mention it that morning, and neither did he.

“Can-can you find a rag or something for me. And some water, too. He should have some in his pack.” Her hands moved to his jaw, turning his head side-to-side to check his cuts.

Any emotion in her voice is held off completely with Tommy in the room. He can’t see her like how she wants to be right now. She was almost killed. He was almost killed. And there’s a lump in her throat right now that she can’t have Tommy know about. She doesn’t want him to see her like that. She can’t break in front of him, not right now.

Tommy finds an old T-shirt and Joel’s water canteen in his pack and hands them to Ellie, her lightly soaking the shirt with some water as she starts cleaning the cut on his neck.

She pauses for a second, turning her head to the side, still avoiding Tommy’s gaze. “Dina and Jesse are on their way. Can you go watch out for them, please?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Tommy…” she called, turning fully to see him. Her eyes were red already. “Be careful.”

He offered her a gentle smile before heading up the stairs, pulling the door closed behind him. He stops before it reaches the doorframe. “Ellie? Let me know when he wakes, okay?”

“Yup,” is all she manages as he leaves the door ajar behind him.

The second he’s gone, she starts to break. She just told Joel last night about wanting to try and forgive him. To try and get back on good terms. To try for what they want to be; what they deserve to be. And she almost just lost him. But now, she has the chance to get them back home and to start that journey of reconciliation.

But he needs her right now, her thoughts don’t. She puts the rag down and grabs his left hand to hold it in hers, crying as she tries to wrap his one hand in both of hers, as tiny as they are.

“Joel?” she asks, her voice cracking as tears well in her eyes.

She hasn’t felt this small in years; especially not since their estrangement. Her voice feels like it jumps an octave asking for him now. She feels small, vulnerable, open. They haven’t been open since the night after they were home from her birthday trip. They watched Jurassic Park, but it wasn’t the same after that. Now, it feels like she’s reverted back to their old ways. Five years ago when they were on the road together, Ellie calling out for him so he could tell her what to do. The name she’d yell when she was scared and needed him to guide her. How she shouted for him against the raging current when they jumped off that bridge and he held her against him, shielding her from the rock face. How she screamed for him to help her when Sam had turned and was clawing at her on that motel floor. His name that seemed to offer so much comfort, protection, and security back then now holds years of heartbreak, fear, guilt, and shame.

“It’s me,” she whispers, tears streaming down her face as she brings the conglomeration of their hands up to her face, resting her lips against the back of his left hand. His hands are cold against her lips as her tears fall, soaking his wrist in salty streams. “Joel…” she pauses. What the fuck do I say? What does he deserve to hear? Will I even mean what I say? “You have to get up. You need to get up, Joel. Please,” she sobs, rubbing her thumbs back and forth over his hand as she struggles to catch her breath.

A few minutes of her crying passes before she clears her throat. She gives his hand a few reassuring squeezes. “I’m gonna clean your face a bit, okay? You’re still bleeding a lot and some of these cuts are bad.”

She squeezes his hand again before reaching for the rag again and dabbing more water on it. She gently uses her left hand to tilt his head up to work on the cut on his neck.

The water was ice cold and he unconsciously flinched when Ellie dabbed the t-shirt to his neck. She apologized every time, hoping he could hear her. She meant it. Even after the last two years of almost delighting in pushing him away and knowing he was hurt by how she was treating him, she regretted that now. She hated it now. Even if this was physical pain, her stomach still churned at the thought of knowing thoughts he’s probably had the past two years and how she hurt him mentally. She’s sincere over her apologies. She doesn’t like seeing him hurt; and now, she hates to be the one causing him more pain and discomfort.

She finishes cleaning the blood off his face, even cleaning some that got on his teeth. She ran the rag through his hair, soaking sections of it and wringing the blood out. He looked…better, but nowhere near good. None of the cuts should need stitches, she thinks, so that’s good. She places the rag and water beside her again, double checking his face over for any spots she may have missed. She grabbed hold of his hand again, carefully running her fingers across the calluses that litter his knuckles.

Tommy appeared at the top of the stairs, voice laced with concern. She would tell him if something happened. “Ellie? Anything?”

Ellie sighed, heavy and deep. Why isn’t he waking up? She cleared her throat, attempting to keep the emotion out of her voice. “No…nothing yet. Sorry,”

“S’not your fault, sweetheart. Just let me know when he wakes,” and Tommy was off to continue his watch for the other teenagers.

When. More like if, at this point.

And that’s exactly when he did. A heavy grown from the older man as Ellie eyes immediately locked on to him again, scanning his face. His hand moved in hers as his eyes fluttered slightly. His thumb rubbed over her fingers as she smiled, holding her tears in case this wasn’t quite it.

But his eyes opened and were trained on her immediately. She squeezed his hand tight again, offering him a small smile as tears dropped from her chin and fell to their hands. “Hey…” she whispered, keeping her voice quiet for him.

“El…” he tried, voice croaking at the attempt. She smiled at him. He’s here. He’s alive.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she confirmed, squeezing his hand again.

Joel immediately started moving and adjusting his position on the floor, but Ellie was quick to lay a hand on his chest, tears still on her face. “No, you’re staying here. You’re…in bad shape, Joel,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She sniffled, grabbing at his hand again. “You have to stay here til we can get you safely home.”

Joel’s left hand lifts from her grasp as he brings it up closer to her face, his eyebrows furrowing; uncertain that she’s actually here. She finds it again with her right and holds tight to it, pressing it against her cheek and smiling. “Yeah, it’s me. You’re not hallucinating, I promise. We’re not dead or in some afterlife.”

She was there, too. She was on that basement tile, face forcefully pressed into the ground. Forced to watch. Laid out right in front of him, every fear Joel ever dreaded resurfacing right then; mere feet from him. The fear of her dying again. He wasn’t concerned over himself, it was all over her and what they were doing. They tackled her to the ground, kicked her in the ribs and kicked her head later, giving her a bloody, and possibly broken, nose.

He had every right to think she wasn’t real. Everything told him they died. He had every right to believe he did die and, somehow, the darkness that he thought came after death was just a place that filled in the horrifying gaps. Those gaps being filled by Ellie being beaten and killed, all while he was unable to save her.

But now, hearing her voice and the reassurance in we’re not dead wasn’t enough. He had to hold her. He had to feel her so he could know. His hand to her cheek, fingers through her hair, her tucked away against his chest, or her curled up against his side while his arm drapes across her. That was all for them and he needed it all now to know. To know that she was alive. That they were alive.

Joel frees a finger from her grasp and runs it back and forth over her cheek. Man did she miss contact. This used to be second- no, first nature for them, but it’s been so lost, even before their estrangement. But right now, it feels like it was never lost. “It’s me,” is all she can get out. A phrase from him that always brought her out of dissociation. Two words that grounded her; comforted her throughout Winter and settling into Jackson. Any uncertainty was always met with those two words. It became their thing.

She rests their hands back into his lap before reluctantly letting go. “I’ll be right back,” she whispers, quickly shooting up and running to the top of the stairs, checking behind her every step, the fear that Joel would disappear if she let her eyes off him.

She cracked the basement door open and peaked her head through. “Tommy?! He’s awake,” she called, and Tommy rounded the corner from the front door. Ellie offered him a grateful smile as he struggled to catch his breath, both from running and the realization that Joel was alive.

Tommy rushed downstairs with her, meeting Joel at his side. Ellie stayed a few feet back, letting the brothers have a few minutes. Tommy cleared his throat, trying to conceal his emotion. “Hey, big brother. She cleaned you up real good. How you feelin’?”

“Pain,” is all Joel could manage, though it came out clearer than either of them were expecting. “Fucking sore. Beaten…I was…,” Joel tried, his throat aching with every word.

“I know, brother. I know. But you’re alright now. Jesse and Dina are comin’ and then we’ll have enough people to get you safely home, alright? You’re gonna be just fine, Joel,” he assured, placing a hand over Joel’s heart.

“You were…hit…”

“Nah, it’s nothin’. Clinic at Jackson will get us both up ‘n runnin’ again in no time.” Tommy paused. “Just rest for right now, alright? Once they get here, we’ll get on our way home,” Tommy reassured, grabbing Joel’s hand briefly to offer a comforting squeeze. Ellie pressed a hand to his arm as he passed by, heading back upstairs to watch for Dina and Jesse.

Ellie kneeled back to Joel’s side, gathering his left hand in both of hers again. He brought his right over to them, placing it atop hers, rubbing his thumb in circles on the backs of her hands.

“You heard your brother; you need to rest. We’ll get you up and back home once they get here. I’ll be here the whole time.”

“I can’t rest.”

Ellie looks at him confused. “I know you’re in pain and that it’s probably hard to get real rest right now. You don’t even have to sleep, you can just ‘rest your eyes’,” she joked, freeing her left hand to use air quotes. “You love resting your eyes.”

“No, kiddo,” he said, struggling to form the right words.

The term of endearment strikes a chord in her. There was a small party at the Tipsy Bison one night and both of them showed up. It was a year into their estrangement and Ellie cursed herself every time she gave him the pleasure of even looking in his direction, let alone talking to him. Within an hour, Ellie was pissed. Some comment Seth made about her vocabulary. She cussed him out and rushed out the door, Joel right on her heels.

“Kiddo-“ his voice was gentle, never raised.

“Don’t! Don’t. What the fuck don’t you get? I said I’d come back here, but we’re done. You don’t get to fucking talk to me, especially using names like that. Keep your fucking distance,” she yelled, some Jacksonfolk trickling out of the bar at the shouting as she stormed off towards their his house.

Joel was left in the street that evening, soft flurries of snow coating his hair and beard as he watched her storm down the Jackson streets. He could see their his house from there. He intently watched every step she took, her right hand coming up to her face every so often. She was crying.

He never called her ‘kiddo’ after that. Until now.

“I can’t.”

“Joel, what the fuck are you talking about? Did I miss something?”

She did.

How the hell did she miss it?

The crook between his neck and shoulder; similar to Tess.

He had been bitten.

Her face drops immediately, her mouth slowly falling open as he pulled a fistful of his clothes to the side, showing it better. “I’m…not waking up again.”

Ellie’s breath is rapid now, hitching with every inhale. She’s reached a point beyond hyperventilating. She is choking, coughing, suffocating. Her whole body burns as she pulls her hands away from his, struggling to even know where to put them because she can’t think.

“Joel…” she whispers, almost as a warning. She’s fallen back to sitting on her heels now, an uncomfortable and unsure space between them.

Joel took a deep breath in, preparing himself. “They kicked and knocked you out. I didn’t have any strength…I couldn’t fight them. They pulled me up to my feet and forced me to stand. The guys took turns punching me in the gut…one of them also giving me this cut from my temple to my jaw. They were laughing at this point, like they were playing a game. They…” he paused, collecting his breath. He felt like he was running out. “They kicked you a few more times, they wanted you awake to watch. When you didn’t wake up…three of the guys left, mumbling something about infected.” He paused again to catch his breath. Even recounting it was almost too much for him. The anger in his eyes was raging remembering how they kicked her. “Few minutes later…they were coming back down the stairs with a runner. They had tied a rope around its neck like it was a dog. They teased me with it…threatened Tommy, too. I begged them not to. They…they gave the runner some slack and I tried to turn away, but two of them were holding me up by the arms…I couldn’t go anywhere. I turned my head and…” He motioned to the bite. It was two sets of teeth marks. He was bit twice. “They all laughed and pulled the leash back, shooting the runner in the face. The two guys let go of me and I fell…broke my nose. I’ve been in and out since then. I don’t know why or how I even woke up the first time.”

She waited, collecting what the hell he just told her. “...why isn’t the runner still here?”

He sighed again, closing his eyes briefly. Even in his current state, he’s dreaming of stringing them up by their insides, letting them hang from the cross beams of the mansion. “They knew you were immune. So, I guess in an attempt to…hurt you, they took away the evidence that I got bit. The blonde girl kneeled in front of me…said she wanted you to have hope I’d be okay. That we’d be okay.”

“What the fuck,” is all she could manage.

Joel coughed and her eyes grew wide. “Wait, it’s your neck…” she breathed in with no satisfaction. “You…you don’t…”

“Have a lot of time,” he continued, finishing her thought. “No, baby, I don’t.”

They stayed in silence for a while, unable to grasp what exactly reality was. This was never supposed to happen. She’s supposed to forgive him. They’re supposed to watch Curtis and Viper 2. They’re supposed to go back to Jackson and practice guitar together. She wants to learn to make those little wooden animals he loves spending so much time on, too, and she knows he’ll teach her. They’re both still needed on patrol. They’re meant to have more meals together. They’re supposed to have a future.

“Rehash whatever you need to. I won’t blame you. Do what you need to, kiddo.”

“You’re about to fucking die and you want me to rehash my feelings? You want me to fucking kick and scream and hit you?!”

“If you need to.”

“I’m about to lose you-“ she cuts herself off, a choked sob at lose. She should never have to say that. She never dreamed she’d ever have to say that.

Joel sighed, his eyes closing briefly. Why. Why like this?

She crawls towards him, burying herself against his chest. Don’t fucking touch me. It rings in her ears. It taunts her. She swatted his hand away and told him we’re done. She left him stood at Saint Mary’s, the same hospital he saved her life at. The place where he told her “we’re not done; we have a future,” was now where he was being told that they were done.

But then they talked on the porch. They had hope. He had hope she was coming back. That she wanted to try for them. They wouldn’t have to be done anymore.

And now they were done. For good. There was no coming back, not from this.

She pushes himself as close as she can against him, burying her face in his left shoulder as she clings to his coat and sobs. She sobs for their whole journey. Every moment together she wished she clung to him but didn’t. The nights during Winter when she couldn’t sleep unless she was right beside him. She cried for their nights in Jackson when she woke him up with her nightmares, crawling under the comforter with him. She cried for their quick goodbye hugs before he’d leave for patrol. She cried for when she would cling to his arm when they would meet other Jacksonfolk. She cried for the times he kissed her forehead or lightly rubbed her back when

She cried for their good days of practicing guitar, watching Jurassic Park, and living the life they never thought they’d get. The days she woke up to him cooking breakfast and they had orange juice. How he always gave her the slightly bigger portion so she’d eat more. The days when she helped him with little construction projects around Jackson. The days he’d visit her and Shimmer at the stables, always commending Ellie on how well she took care of him. Sometimes he’d help her out by brushing his mane. He needed the experience, she said.

She cried for their bad days of arguments, disputes, and going to bed angry. She always woke up to a note on her nightstand the mornings after. On patrol. I’m sorry about yesterday. I’d like to talk about it later if that’s alright with you. Be safe today. Love, Joel. They always reconciled, one of them cracking a joke at the end to lighten the mood. It was a miracle they were ever able to reconcile, considering how terrible they could both be at talking about their feelings. But they always managed in their own little way.

She cried for their estrangement. How she’d treated him the past two years; avoiding him at any cost. Glaring at him if he was in the immediate vicinity. Always finding an out if he approached her. She would go through Tommy to find out Joel’s schedule, all so she could work around it. She cried for how her smile faded even seeing him across town. The anger she harbored towards him those years, unable to see any hope or light at the end of the tunnel.

She cried for him. She cried for who he was. Who he is. All he ever did was protect her and ask her to be safe. His care for her was infinite and it nearly drove her insane. No one ever cared for her how he did. Every day, he did everything he could for her. Whether it be out on the road or in the security of Jackson, he never stopped caring. Never stopped protecting or loving. To show her a glimpse into Before; who he was Before.. To show her what having a family, a father, was like. He went above and beyond to give her the life she deserved, all because he wanted her to be happy. It was never about him.

She cried for the smiles she caught. The once-in-a-blue-moon toothy smiles where he truly laughed. His small chuckles or when he’d blow air out of his nose at some snarky remark she made. Sometimes he’d smile during their meals together. She thought it was weird at first when he told her “it’s not because of the food.” He was happy to just be with her. To have a sense of normalcy with this little girl. To escape from the horrors of infected outside the walls of Jackson and be able to sit at a wooden table and eat with proper plates and silverware for a full meal.

She cried over his gentleness. He was a violent man. He killed and tortured men for years and he was effective. But when it came to her, he was nothing but gentle. He always spoke softly, always held her as gently as his calloused, blood stained hands could manage. How any touch was feather-light and didn’t feel like it could come from someone known for notorious violence like Joel. But she was the exception. Her delicate, fourteen-year-old self brought out a side of him that he always believed was buried two decades prior.

She cried for missing his contact. They got so comfortable after Winter. Holding hands, hugs on the harder days, and the general proximity. They’d sit beside each other by the fire, and Joel would wake up with her head alarmingly close to him, some mornings on his thigh or shin. It became more frequent when they moved into Jackson. She was glued to his side any time they left the house; other residents of Jackson thought it was sweet. But, ever since the estrangement and shoving him away, she didn’t think they’d ever be this close again.

And through their estrangement, he was patient. He waited for her those years. He was heartbroken over it and she knew, but he was still patient, not knowing if she’d even come back or try to repair it. He stayed the whole time, still, patiently waiting. And if she never went back, he’d stay anyway, content with the time he had with her. He loved her too much to force it. She was alive, and that’s all that mattered to him.

And she was about to lose that man in mere hours.

She was draped across his lap now, face pressed into his neck as his was pressed into her hair. She sobbed into him, soaking his coat and button-up. His arms were wrapped around her, left arm cradling her head into him as his right was on her back, rubbing and tracing gentle patterns and designs through her shirt. She’d never be held like this again.

“Kiddo,” he spoke, breaking her concentration on the fabric of his shirt. “I’m startin’ to not feel too well.”

Ellie shut her eyes tight, tears spilling over immediately. “No. No, no, no, no, no. No, fuck. How much fucking time do you have? I still need time,” she pleaded.

“Time for what?”

“To just…just…be here. To be with you while you’re still…”

He gave her a look and she knew exactly what he meant. They didn’t have that time. His eyes would close soon enough, and it wouldn’t be Joel to open them again.

She wrapped her arms around his middle, sobbing into his chest once again. She was mumbling incoherences into his coat, wailing sobs coming out of her that didn’t even sound human. This was reality. She hadn’t felt it until now. She cried, she screamed bloody murder into his chest. He was dying. He was dead already.

He hugged her back as tight as he could manage. He was still injured, but injuries be damned if they ever stopped him from comforting or protecting her. She comes first.

“I need more time,” she weeped into his chest.

“I know, baby. But I don’t want you to see me like that. I don’t. I’d rather be gone before I have the chance to hurt you.” He kissed her head quickly once but held a longer one the second time, his eyes closing at the sound of her sobs at the lost contact between them. “Hey…” his mouth still in her hair, trying to keep himself from eating a mouthful of her auburn strands. “Baby…can you call for Tommy? I want to see him.”

She gave his shirt a few more shuddering hiccups before pulling away, stepping to the bottom of the staircase. “Don’t close your fucking eyes.”

She raced to the top of the stairs, skipping two or three at a time until she reached the door. It flew open, Ellie nearly collapsing to the floor as Tommy rushed to her side.

“Whoa, hey. The hell happened?” Tommy paused, his hand held inches above her shoulder. “Did he-“

“He wants to talk to you,” she said, adjusting herself to sit on the floor she just collapsed on.

Tommy rushed down the stairs as Ellie stayed on the first floor of the mansion, her knees bent in front of her as her forearms draped over them, tears spilling down her face. She hugged her legs closer to herself, face burying in the space between her kneecaps. Joel was dying.

Tommy kneeled beside his older brother, seeing the bite immediately from Joel’s clothes still being pulled to the side. Tommy’s face went still, hands flexing into fists.

“How-“

“They tortured me with a runner. Bit me twice.” Joel’s breathing was shaky now. Emotion or the infection taking over, he wasn’t sure. “I’m not feeling well, Tommy.”

Tommy couldn’t respond. There was nothing to say. His big brother was dying. The last of his blood, his companion for life, his construction partner. Nothing prepares you for that, not even the world they live in.

“I’m sorry, brother.”

“Dammit, Joel,” he whispers, turning away to wipe his face. “What…you want me to get her out of here? Head back home like nothin’ happened? Let you run around as some fuckin’ infected and risk seeing you again in that state? Risk her seeing you that way?!”

“No…no.” Joel pulled his revolver from his belt, holding it out to Tommy. “Before she’s back downstairs. Please, Tommy. She can’t do something like this. Please, she can’t. I can’t have her…” he hesitates, unable to finish that thought. “I don’t want her seeing me as an infected, neither. I don’t want you seein’ that. Please, Tommy, you have to.”

Tommy’s response was immediate and sure. “I ain’t fucking shooting you, Joel.”

“You’ve killed hundreds of people, Tommy.”

“Those are hunters, Joel! People we fucking stole from ages ago! People who were the object of our grief! You’re my brother!”

“So do me the mercy of shooting me in the head.”

There’s a silence. A hard, cold, unbelievable silence between them. Tommy paced back and forth in front of Joel, anxiously messing with his hands as he imagines how any of this would play out. Where do I shoot him? Forehead? Temple? Chin? Will Ellie hate me? Will Maria hate me? What if I can’t take it like Joel couldn’t? What if Ellie attempts because she can’t take it?

“Please, Tommy, don’t let me turn. I don’t want you to see that. I don’t want her to see that. Fucking…Tommy, please.”

Tommy faces him head on, his eyes red, expression clear. “Do it yourself,” he bites, turning towards the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, hand gripping the railing. Fuck, that was a bad call.

“I love you, baby brother.”

Tommy’s chin drops to his chest as he pulls himself up the stairs, the sleeves of his coat wiping profusely at his face. His head burns. He opens the door and Ellie is still there, hugging herself on the floor, knees brought to her chest as she weeps in front of him.

Tommy doesn’t say a word, only grabs his rifle from the back of the couch and takes watch at the front door again. Ellie watches him, confused. He’d say something, right? Right?

She fumbles getting up, throwing the door back open as she rushes back down to Joel.

The crown of his head is pressed against the glass behind him, eyes closed tight as tears pool down the sides of his face and into his ears, some falling and dripping off his jaw. She can see his shoulders and abdomen jump with each sob. He has never looked like this before.

He lifts his head from the glass, meeting her eyes as she kneels back beside him. He sought her hand this time, holding it tight. His eyes are red and there are wet streaks along his cheeks and jaw.

They sat there in silence, Ellie attentively playing with his fingers as he occasionally sniffed, trying to push those emotions far away from her to see. Joel cleared his throat and adjusted his back as best he could against the glass.

“Listen-“ he started, a gentle graze of his thumb over her hand.

“No.”

“Ellie-”

“Joel, stop…stop…”

“You don’t even know-“

“I know exactly what you want to fucking say. No.”

He freed his hands from hers, picking the revolver up from the floor beside him. He picked both her hands up again, placing the gun tightly in her grip. “It’s fully loaded. No Russian roulette, nothing.”

“Russian roulette?”

He laughed wetly. “Get Tommy to explain it to you.”

“I want you to.” He’d never get to explain anything to her after this.

He smiles briefly. She’s like a little kid asking to get her way, and he’d be damned if he didn't explain it.

“It’s a…dangerous game. You put one round in the chamber, spin it, place it against the body, and you fire at your own head. Your fate is up to chance.” He rubs his thumb over hers. “But there’s no chance with this.”

She gripped the revolver, staring at it. “…Is that why Tommy walked away? Did you ask him?”

He nodded. “He told me to do it myself.”

Well, why can't you?

And it’s almost like Joel can sense the question from a mile away.

“I’m afraid I’ll flinch again.” His voice cracks on again. “With the infection already startin’ to take root I…”

“Joel…I can’t fucking shoot you. I won’t.”

“I don’t want you to see me like that. I don’t want to feel whatever it is they feel. I don’t know if I’ll know it’s you and won’t be able to control what I’m doin’. I don’t want to give you another bite. I don’t want to give you something else that’ll keep you up at night. When you think of me, I don’t want that to be what you picture. I don’t want to tear you apart.”

Joel succumbs to a coughing fit and nearly coughs up blood as he leans forward, Ellie pounding on his back. Joel heaves as his head hangs above his legs, Ellie rubbing his back gently. It’s Riley all over again. Joel sits back up against the glass and exhales heavily as Ellie brings their hands back together. This is going fast.

Ellie hesitates, absentmindedly squeezing his hand tighter. “What if I forget what you look like? What if I shoot you through the face and that’s all I see from now on? What if I can’t remember your face? What if I try to draw you and all I see is a bullet hole between your eyes? What if I can’t remember your nose or your mouth or your eyes or-“

She was rambling and furiously wiping the tears away from her cheeks now. Joel brought his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks. He rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks multiple times, wiping from her nose to her ear lobes, and spoke. “What color are my eyes?”

She stared at him for a minute, eyes threatening to spill over again. She looked down to the space between them, avoiding his gaze. “Brown.”

“Hey.” He said firmer, forcing her to look at him. “What color are my eyes?”

She stared at him for a minute, keeping the contact. “Brown,” she said, still skeptical.

“Ellie, baby…what color are my eyes?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and exhaled. “Brown. Your…your eyes are brown. Your eyes are brown,” she breathed, almost relieved to say that back to him. “Your eyes are brown and your…your nose has a little arch to it. You have the scar on your temple and the one on your nose, too.” She hesitated for a minute, lightly laughing to herself. “You have these two little patches in your beard where you don’t have any hair-“

“Alright,” he rolled his eyes, smiling back at her. He brought her head towards him, pressing a kiss to her hairline before pulling her away again.

“Your hair is a mix of black and white. Your ears sit close to your head and you have these two little creases between your eyes, too.”

He smiled at her again. This is what he wanted. After how she expressed the fear of forgetting what he looked like, this is what he wanted for her. What she needed. For her to know she could remember him. That if she drew him, if she remembered him, she remembered him, not something else.

She lightly smiled back. “The corners of your eyes crinkle when you smile, too. Sometimes there’ll be three or four if you laugh hard.”

She noticed the small things in him. She had him perfectly pictured in her mind, down to the minute details of his eye crinkles. But she didn’t do it just so she could remember his face; it was because she loved him. Because she loved them- those little, physical quirks he’d nearly forgotten about himself.

He smiled bigger, just for that.

Her smile faded fast, reality coming back to her. “Your eyes crinkle when you smile…” she trailed off, looking down as she took his hands from her face and into her hers, placing them in their laps. She was never going to him smile again.

“C’mere,” he asked and she climbed back against him, contorting herself against his chest as her cheek pressed against his heart. Her right hand had a section of his flannel balled up into her fist, clinging to what she still had left of him. Her left was in her lap, fidgeting with his fingers.

They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, Ellie attentively playing with his fingers to distract herself from their fate approaching at a rapid rate. She crossed them over each other, intertwined hers with his, balled his hands into fists, and held his every way she knew how.

The longer they sat, the more labored his breathing became. She could feel him fading; dying. He could, too. It was getting harder to breathe. Deeper inhales were needed for almost every other breath. He was lightheaded; dizzy. His head was dropping more, like his neck muscles were giving out. The infection was getting far. It was a network at this point, vines emerging from his shoulder into his neck and chest; it resembled tree roots. He was sweating and getting hot. This was going way too fast.

“Babygirl…”

“No,” she whimpered into his chest, holding that ball of his flannel tighter.. “No, Joel. Please…stop.”

“Ellie, we’re risking it. I’m…I’m going, kiddo. I can tell.”

She curled herself tighter into his lap, bending her knees and bringing them closer to her face as they fell against his chest. He pulled his hands from hers, wrapping them tighter around her. She’s always been so small, and right now was no exception. She fit into him so easily, completely encapsulated by his embrace.

Ellie was trembling with sobs; a mix of hiccups, hyperventilating, and a wailing that any clicker could hone in on from miles away. She felt like she was falling apart. His embrace is supposed to offer her support and stability, not make her feel like they’re nowhere to be found. Security and protection, and yet she feels open, vulnerable, and exposed.

Her fist in his flannel moved to his arm, her left arm following as she held onto his forearms, trying to ground herself in his embrace and how she should feel against him.

He’s practically dead. Maybe that’s why; it’s barely him at this point. The infection is taking him from her. And that is as much of a reason she needs to go through with this. What feels terrible to her is a thousand times worse for him. He’ll be with Sarah. He’ll be free.

“Baby,” he started. He hadn’t called her that in years before today. And she had already lost count of the amount of times he’d used it within the last few hours. She’s never gonna hear it again. “Hey, look at me, please.” She pulled away and scooted off his lap slightly, her legs still draped across him. His hands found her cheeks, his hold noticeably weaker. He smiled at her.

This little girl. His little girl. He smiled at her; because of her. The little girl who attacked him (and Tess) when they first met. Who did nothing but cling to his side because he protected her. I need something smuggled out of the city. To you, she’s cargo. But then there was Henry and Sam, nights together on the road, car rides, Jackson (a glimpse into their future), a life threatening injury, and her life on the line. And somehow…it became more than a job. She became more than just cargo. Somewhere along the way, the fortified walls built up around him were torn down by her. He protected, provided, and cared for her. He nurtured her. He reassured her. He held her tight and called her “babygirl.” He saw more importance in holding her hand through a night sleep than he did in keeping watch over them.

Eventually, that cargo was hearing him sing and being taught guitar. That smuggler was stringing up lights around her makeshift home in their her garage. Somewhere along the way, two unrelated survivors of the world, brought together as a job, were walking hand-in-hand down the streets of their new home together.

At first, she seemed to just be a replacement for Sarah; her ghost following him everywhere. Those nightmares becoming more prevalent when Ellie entered the picture; a constant reminder of his failure to Sarah. But then Ellie wormed her way in with that terrible pun book, atrocious vocabulary for a fourteen-year-old, and non-stop questions which kept him awake (and annoyed) that did him in. She started to become her own person to him; an opportunity. A second chance at fatherhood. To feel and embrace the love that gave him the greatest twelve years of his life. To continue where he left off with it all. And motherfuckers be damned if anything was going to get in his way of loving his little girl again.

“I love you,” and fuck, he looked heartbroken and in love. This was the first and last time she'd ever hear him say it. Regretful.

She smiled back at him. It was always understood between them; they didn’t have to say it. She wanted to say it before he left for patrol or before she went…anywhere without him. But a quick hug, kiss on the head, and a “be safe,” was his way of saying it every day. For her, it was always a tight hug paired with, “If you die, I’m gonna kill you,” or a similar endearment. They had their ways, and that was enough.

But right now, he needed her to know for sure.

Joel took in another shaky breath. He was falling. “I love you…so much, babygirl.” His hold was so soft as he rubbed his thumb over her cheek again.

His face was enough to tell her everything. They got really good at the whole ‘silent communication’ thing. A certain look in his eye or the way his eyebrows sat was all she needed. And now, his eyes were gentle. He looked like he did when he gave her the tape of the space launch three years ago. He looked like he did when he heard Linda Ronstadt on that tape after so many years. He looked like he did when she’d treat him extra father-like to really sell it to other Jacksonfolk. His expression looked like…the same it always did when he looked at her.

Everything he ever did was for her. Trying to send her away with Tommy, shoving her away from him in that basement, massacring the fireflies, and every decision in between was made because he loved her, and that came before anything else. He didn’t need to expand on any of it; she knew now.

Her anger was palpable during the estrangement. Her trust was broken, she was betrayed, disappointed, and angrier than she knew what to do with. She didn’t hate him, though. She struggled for a long time, but it never turned to hatred. And the realization of that for her is as clear to her now as it may ever be, considering how easily she answers. Like they were never estranged.

“I love you, too,” she responds, the same expression on her face. I just heard him say his last words. He just heard my last words to him.

He pulls her head forward, pressing his forehead to hers. Her hands come up to his wrists, holding on to him. She slows her breathing to match his, earning one last sliver of comfort from him.

She pulls his hands away, placing them in the space between them as she leans to the side, picking the revolver back up. She fiddles with it in her hands, trembling as she grips the trigger. She pulls her legs off from how they’ve been draped across him and tucks them under her, sitting on her heels.

She loosely places the barrel of the revolver against his temple, Joel flinching at the familiar contact.

His right hand came up to her face, bringing her head down once more, kissing her hairline once and resting his lips there briefly. A second one, just for good measure. “I love you so damn much, babygirl,” he whispers, tears from his own cheeks hitting her forehead. He leans back, the crown of his head hitting the glass.

Ellie grabs at his hands in his lap, the two of them fighting for who can hold the other tighter. Both his hands come around her left as she pulls the hammer back. Tears drip off her chin into the mess of their hands in his lap.

He shuts his eyes tight as she exhales.

“I’m sorry. I love you-”

bang.

His body jumps against her, his hands immediately releasing her left as his head falls to the side.

“Joel?” She whispered, watching his face. She dropped the revolver, cupping his face upright. “Hey, Joel. Look at me. Joel, fucking look at me! Fuck..dammit Joel, fucking look at me, asshole. Look at me!” Every other word was a sob. “Fuck…you’re…why did I do this. Why did I listen to you, why did I…” she sobbed, pressing her forehead against his, gripping his neck tight. “Please…please, don’t do this. Come back, Joel. Please, please come back. Please…” she pleaded, tears spilling down her chin into his empty hands. “Joel…come on. We were…I was…I told Dina I was going to invite you over. Curtis and Viper 2…I found it. I was gonna ask you…fuck…fuck…I know you would…you would’ve said yes…” Her throat was burning up. She brought her hands around the back of his neck, bringing his face into the crook of her shoulder as she rested her chin atop his head, her right hand combing through his hair gently. “...We were gonna…we were gonna be okay.” she choked. Were.

The basement door swung open and Tommy stormed down the stairs, his beretta in hand as his arm was extended out in front of him. He was coming back to do it. Tommy stopped a few feet behind Ellie, Joel’s head still tucked into her neck.

“Ellie…”

Ellie was sobbing into Joel’s hair, Tommy at a loss of what to do, if anything, for her. “He was going fast…we…I had to.”

Tommy’s breath caught in his throat as he noticed the wound in his brother’s temple, blood still pouring out. Ellie was drenched.

HIs voice was quiet, completely different to how he sounded barreling down the stairs seconds prior. “I was gonna get my shit together…I-I would’ve done it, sweetheart.”

Ellie pushed past that. Can’t go back now. “We need to…wrap him up. Sheets, towels, something…”

Tommy acknowledged silently, walking back upstairs without another word.

Ellie stayed there, kneeling on that cold basement tile with Joel’s face tucked into her neck. He was heavy now as dead weight. Joel’s hands were still open in his lap, pools of Ellie’s tears still present in the creases of his palms. “You were alive three minutes ago and now we have to wrap up your fucking corpse…” She pulled his face away from her neck, holding it in front of her. His eyes were half shut. She opened his left eyelid slightly, checking for life. She had to be sure. Sure enough, nothing. The eyes that held so much light, gentleness, and love were void of…anything now. No crinkles in the corner of his eyes, and the brown of his irises even felt faded.

She stayed like that, studying his face. The second Tommy is back, Joel will be wrapped up, his face covered and his body wrapped up as he’s put six feet under, never to be unraveled again. She needed this now, to make sure she memorized everything, even through the tear-filled lens of her vision. Those patches in his beard, the arch of his nose, his temple and nose scars, the shape of his ears, the way the front of his hair curls on a good day, the brown of his eyes, and those crinkles she never once took for granted that sat so openly at the corners of his eyes.

She’d never see those crinkles again.

~~~~

Tags: @not-so-mundane-after-all @sentientmasstransit @memelovescaps @tloubraininfection @tlouobsessed @fieldsoftulips @bejeweledmp3 @swol-bear @cassianendor @bluestar22x @elliiewiilliiams @longl0ngtime @dilf-din @therebedragcns @joelxmiller @scootkiddo @astrasomnium @fallenstar07 @novemberrain-writes @hooptedoodley

[upsidedog]

do you think max walked home the night of the snowball

while that’s heartbreaking and a likely possibility, i actually think max road home with her mom. susan was happy to do max’s hair, so i don’t think it’s a stretch to guess she was excited about the snow ball as a whole.

i imagine in private max would timidly bring up that there’s a school dance she’s thinking about attending with her friends, susan lights up and immediately goes to ask neil if it’d be alright if she bought max a new dress for her school picture day. of course the moment they get to the store susan makes a b-line for the formal pants and sweaters.

when max was little she loved stuff like this, when her mom would look at her all knowing like “we are so much smarter and better than all the controlling, silly people in our life.” like when max’s dad accidentally lost her skateboard and said she couldn’t buy a new one because he‘d build it to make it up to her, of course that promise never came to fruition and until he forgot about it her mom bought her a ever cooler deck, that she’d painted a dragon on the bottom of that max could hide in the garage under the halloween decorations. “our secret” she said. or when her grandma said max had to wear a dress for the family picture but she didn’t say anything about dresses tucked into pants. “loophole” her mother insisted. susan’s always been an expert at working around the people in her and max’s life like it’s a game, but it’s not fun anymore. it’s too high of stakes.

like after the snowball, it takes a few “i don’t know why i’m smiling so much”es but eventually susan pries enough to get max to admit that there might be a boy, that might be really sweet, that she might like and maybe even also kissed. susan wants to know everything, max wants to tell her, for a second it feels really good, like her mom is her mom and not a ghost of her that occupies the same space. that is until they get home and it’s over and susan stiffens up and says “don’t let the boys find out” there is no wink or quip or playfulness. just a “seriously.”

[communistkenobi]

(continuing discussion of the gap between show's perception of Starfleet + what is presented)

I know there's a lotta Trek to work through and I completely understand if you choose not to, but I'd be really curious to see your opinions of first two reboot films—there's this fascinating continuation of it in line with 21st-century American history/politics, but the director and writers are clearly unaware of it. The cinematography of Starfleet in reboot Trek is distinctly more fascist when compared to The Motion Picture and the plot is. Distressingly on the nose.

(TLDR w/o big spoilers: in the first movie, Starfleet is described as a "peacekeeping armada", the Federation essentially experiences 9/11, with increased militarization and eugenics the main plot point of an ostensible Wrath of Khan reboot, and what is an attempt by a 'fleet admiral to provoke a war with the Klingons in the process of his further militarization of Starfleet. Also he attempts to blackmail Khan into helping him Build Weapons and Khan gets radicalized into becoming an anti-Federation terrorist. And then there's the racism)

I definitely wanna watch the reboots! I remember watching the very first one when it first came out but I had no investment or knowledge of Star Trek at the time so I don’t remember having any strong feelings about it