#it's an old man joel brain rot day

[thriftedtchotchkes]

if they don't make these mods official right NOW 😤

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

before - part one

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

it’s summer in austin, and you and joel meet for the first time.

a/n: the joel miller brain rot is real and your advocate is here to help! masterlist will be up shortly, special thank yous and shout outs to @psychedelic-ink @allfoolsinluv and @gnollengrom for letting me scream about this fic in your dms 🤍 I have thought of little else for the last 48 hours

word count: 3.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI - this part is not explicit but other parts will be, masterlist has further warnings, but no real warnings for this part except a lot of fluff?? and banter?? and I’m obsessed kthanksbyeeeee

✨I no longer have a taglist - if you’d like to be notified of new works/chapters, follow @friskito-library and turn notifications on!✨

You meet Joel Miller long before the world implodes.

It’s 2001, you’re fresh out of college, relocated to Austin, Texas where your parents have taken over an old hardware store that once belonged to your grandfather. Nowhere else to go and nothing else to do for the time being, you spend most of your time in the store, stocking shelves and chatting with customers, learning the different things the store keeps on hand, what has to be shipped in special order. It’s not much, but it’s something to do; you’re just happy to be back with your family after four long years at college. Sure, you came home for holidays when you could, but it wasn’t the same.

It still isn’t the same, not really.

The house you live in is foreign to you, not the same roof you grew up under. The people are the same, your parents clearly happy to have you back, your little sister overjoyed to have someone in her corner again. Austin is nice, the weather warmer than you’re used to after four years in Michigan, but it’s a welcome change. Summer seems to go on forever, and your weekends are spent basking in the sun, finding new places to explore, wandering the shops that neighbour the hardware store and beyond.

And then one day, everything changes.

You’re stood at the end of one of the aisles, fixing a stubborn display of plaster tubs that won’t stay upright, when you hear the bells over the door chime, announcing the arrival of a customer. You don’t stray far from the display, calling out a good morning! and returning to your work. Your sister is perched behind the register, flipping through an old magazine, and you hear the tell-tale squeak of work boots on the linoleum, the sound now all too familiar to your ears.

The boots move in your direction, but you pay the sound little mind until it grows closer. Most people who come into the store know what they’re looking for, and your parents had been careful to keep everything in the same aisles and shelves they’d been on for the past decade, so as to not disrupt the regular customers. From the corner of your eye, scuffed, dark boots step a little closer, and your eyes drag over from the display, taking in the man before you.

You try really hard not to let your eyes linger everywhere, but it’s hard. He’s…well, he’s hot. Dark hair, dark eyes, patchy facial hair that really shouldn’t work as well as it does. Long legs covered in dark jeans, a t-shirt that’s definitely seen better days and is straining against his broad shoulders and thick arms. It’s a classic look you’ve come to associate with every guy who works construction in Austin, but right off the bat, you know there’s something different about this one.

“Hi there,” he says, his southern drawl not as intense as some other folks you’ve talked to, but still there, coupled with a little quirk to his lips, an almost-smile that makes you instantly desperate to see the full thing.

“Hi,” you breathe out, curling your fingers around the metal shelving in front of you, abandoning the plaster display.

“I’m lookin’ for a quarter-inch drill bit,” he spits, nearly stuttering the request out. You’re stuck still for a moment, absolutely enamoured by the man before you. And it makes your own lips twitch, the way his cheeks flare red and he drops his gaze after a moment, rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m also assuming you work here but I now realize you don’t have a name tag or anything so I’ll just—”

You clap a hand over your chest dramatically. “Shoot. Must have left the stupid thing in the back.” He lifts his head, eyes going wide, the almost-smile returning. “Follow me.”

He follows you like a little lost puppy a few aisles down from where you were standing. He’s taller than you, by nearly a head, those broad shoulders almost blocking out the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. You may or may not let your hips swing a little harder as you walk.

“Any specific brand you’re looking for?” you ask over your shoulder, coming to a stop in front of the pegboard that holds bits of all sorts of sizes. “Or just a quarter-inch?”

“As long as it fits in my drill,” he answers, and you turn to the board, scanning for the right size. You can feel his eyes lingering on you, and you’re basking in it. When you find the right one, you pluck it off the hook and hand it to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, shoving your hands in the back pockets of your jeans after he takes it from you. “If it doesn’t fit, just bring it back and I’ll make sure you get the right one.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and he looks between you and the little package a few times, tapping it against the flat of his palm. His lips part, like he’s about to say something, but then your sister calls your name and your head snaps up.

“Come on up to the front when you’re ready,” you say, feeling a little bold and touching his arm as you step past him, “and I’ll cash you out.”

He watches you walk away, too.

“I need coffee,” your sister declares as soon as you’re within view of the front counter. “You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” you reply, stepping behind the register, righting a cup of pens that’s fallen over. She slips down from the stool, flipping her magazine shut, and brushes past you, just as a now familiar deep voice reaches your ears.

“Thanks again,” tall, dark, and handsome says, approaching the counter with the drill bit and a tub of plaster from the display you’d been fixing in his hands. Your sister steps around him as he walks up, and turns to look at you over his shoulder, her jaw dropped, giving you two thumbs up. Your cheeks flare with heat, but you ignore it, taking the bit and the plaster when he sees them on the counter. “Are you new here?” he asks, and then rubs his hand up the back of his head, turning sheepish again. “Here being Austin, I mean. Haven’t seen you around before.”

You can’t help but grin back at him. “New-ish. Moved back at the beginning of the summer after I finished college. My parents took over this place after my grandfather died, and I can’t afford rent in the city, so here I am.” You ring up his purchase, tell him his total, and he fishes for his wallet, digging in the front pocket of his jeans. “For now, anyway.”

He presses his lips together as he pulls a twenty out of his wallet and hands it to you. “Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime.”

You punch in the right amount, letting the register drawer hit your hip as it shoots open. “Maybe you will.” You hand him his change, and as you press the bills and coins into his waiting hand, you offer your name with it.

“Joel,” he says by way of answer, and your chest puffs a little with the knowledge. “Miller. Joel Miller.”

Your grin widens. “Well, you have yourself a good day, Joel Miller. Hope I see you soon.”

He takes the bit and the plaster and takes a step backwards, walking directly into a display stand holding rolls of bright green and blue painters tape, sending it toppling to the floor. “Ah, shit, I’m sorry,” he grumbles, and you step around the counter, dropping to your knees, catching the tape as it rolls in a million different directions.

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him earnestly, righting the stand and getting back to your feet. “Now I have something to do.”

“You sure?” he asks, straightening, his cheeks burning red. “I’m sorry, again.”

“Don’t worry about it, again,” you laugh, gesturing towards the front door. “I’ll see you, Joel.”

“See you,” he replies, tacking your name onto the end, and you have to ignore the way the sound of your name on his lips sends a prickle up the back of your neck.

You watch as he walks out the door, the bell ringing again as he departs, getting into a pick-up truck that has definitely seen better days parked at the curb. He scrubs a hand over his face as he starts the engine, and then turns and looks at you through the glass, lifting a hand in a wave before he pulls away from the store. You lift your hand to return the farewell, and your sister walks through the door a moment later, two coffees in her hands, pushing one into your grip even though you said you didn’t want one. You sip it anyway.

“Who was that?” she asks, bumping her hip into yours.

“Joel Miller.”

+

He comes into the store nearly every day for a week. Always looking for something new, another drill bit or packages of nails and screws, a hammer, rolls of tape. He’s a carpenter, you learn, and goes bright red when you hint that must mean he’s good with his hands.

Your conversations are always brief, but sweet. He asks what you went to school for, admits he never got past a high school education, laughs when you tell him he seems to be doing pretty well for himself despite that. He shows up one morning with coffees for both you and your sister, and a box of doughnuts, earning a squeal from your sister and a bright thanks Joel from yourself. One afternoon, he’s in a hurry, having run out of drywall screws, cursing that he left his wallet at the job site, and you wave him off, all but pushing him out the door with a new box.

Then Monday rolls around, and you find yourself watching the door, waiting for the bell to signal his arrival. Every time the bell does ring, you jump, stepping out of whatever aisle you’re in, checking to see who’s walked inside. 

“I’m sure he’ll come by tomorrow,” your sister says when the clock hits two and there’s still no sign of him. “He’s probably just busy.”

“I know,” you say, brushing it off best you can.

The rest of the day passes like molasses, the minutes ticking by so slow you’re half sure the clock on the wall is broken. You even go so far as to check the batteries, earning a laugh from your sister. You curse yourself for flinching every time the door opens, doubly so when your father arrives to take over for the evening and you jump so hard you drop the stack of sandpaper boxes in your hands. “Sorry, honey,” he laughs, helping you pick up the boxes. “Long day?”

“Something like that,” you reply, putting the sandpaper on the right shelf before heading for the counter to grab your bag. “See you at home!”

Your father waves without looking, but calls your name before you can walk out the door. “Someone’s at the house, just so you know. Your mother’s home, of course, but I hired a guy to look at the back porch, asked him to fix the light in the hallway too.”

“Shouldn’t you be able to fix that yourself,” you joke with a smile, “since you own a hardware store and all?”

He just waves you off. “Get outta here.”

You laugh, pushing the door open, the bells jingling above your head as you step through. It’s just before dinner time, the sun starting to hang a little lower in the sky. The inside of your car feels like a sauna when you slide into the driver’s seat, and you blast the air conditioning, turning up the radio loud enough you can hear it over the noise. It’s a quick drive from the store to your house, and you’re too distracted by the song that’s playing on the radio to notice the rusty pick-up parked at the curb.

If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.

Your mother is sitting in the kitchen when you walk through the door, calling her hellos, and you dump your keys and bag before bee-lining for the bathroom. The house is all one level, one bathroom shared between the four of you, and you flick on the light, turn on the shower, strip down quickly. The warm water is a balm for the long day, the tension that had been sitting between your shoulders melting away beneath the spray.

You wrap yourself in a towel afterward, collecting your clothes from the floor before flicking the light off again. You’re still humming the song from the radio as you open the door, wiping a drop of water from your cheek and—

“Joel?”

“Shit!” he mumbles, dropping the screwdriver in his hand. He’s standing right outside the bathroom, balanced on a step-stool. Fixing the light; you remember what your father had said. You’re instantly flushed, starkly aware of the fact that you’re basically naked except for a towel, dripping water and your underwear is basically dangling from your hand. “I’m sor—fuck!” The stool wobbles and out of instinct, you grab for him, planting your hand on his stomach. He’s reaching over his head still, and the bottom of your hand meets bare skin, his t-shirt riding up slightly.

“You good?” you ask, pressing your lips together as he balances himself. You move your hand, carefully bending your knees and picking up the screwdriver from where it landed on the floor. “Here.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, taking it from you, jaw working as he chews the inside of his lip. His cheeks are as red as your whole body feels. “Sorry, I’m—”

“I should go!” you say quickly, and side-step him, bolting out of the bathroom doorway and straight into your bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you. Your clothes tumble to the ground as soon as you’re inside, clapping a hand over your mouth as the towel nearly slips off of you. “Oh my god.”

+

You open the store by yourself the next day, your sister claiming she has the flu, your father with a golf game he can’t miss, and your mother with ‘far too many things to do around the house’. You don’t mind it; it’s usually quiet in the mornings, with the exception of the week of Joel, where he’d shown up at nine o’clock nearly on the dot each day.

Once your father got home last night, you’d all but interrogated him. Turns out, Joel had stopped by the store late the night before, walking in just before closing, and he and your dad got to talking. When the subject of the creaky back porch and the broken hallway light came up, Joel had offered his services, and your father had accepted.

A minute after you’ve flipped the sign from closed to open and unlocked the door, a now-familiar pick-up truck pulls up to the parking spot outside the curb. You inhale sharply, nerves and embarrassment in your gut, and you turn away from the door, heading towards the counter, you back to the door as it jingles open.

Joel Miller calls your name. You nearly freeze, but continue your steps until you’re safely behind the counter. You hear his boots squeak on the floor as he approaches, but you can’t bring yourself to lift your head until he’s standing right in front of you, saying your name again.

“Morning, Joel.”

“About yesterday,” he says instantly, a hand reached into the space between you, landing in a loose fist on the countertop. “I had no idea that you were—that it would—” He blows out a breath, ducking his head before meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry, is what I’m tryin’ to say.”

“Y’know, I usually make a man buy me dinner before he sees me half-naked,” you say, the line rolling off your tongue before you can stop yourself. Joel balks, and you clap a hand over your mouth, nervous giggles pouring out of you. “Oh my god, that was cheesy, I’m sorry. And it’s okay, for the record. I should have checked the hallway before I walked out.”

He laughs, you laugh, and the idea sparks in your mind. Your hands move of their own accord, reaching for a pen and a scrap of receipt paper. You scribble out your phone number, accompanied by a little smiley face after the last digit.

“Here,” you say, pushing the paper across the counter, nudging his hand with your own. “Why don’t you take this, and maybe we can see each other someplace besides the paint aisle or outside my bathroom.” When he doesn’t answer right away, that sick feeling of rejection crawls up your throat, and you nearly snatch the paper back. “Or we could just pretend it never happened.”

“Can’t do that,” he murmurs, and his voice is so low and inviting you can’t help but lean across the counter slightly. His eyes dart to the clock on the wall and he curses under his breath. “Shit, I’m gonna be late.” He grabs the paper, folding it up and tucking it into the pocket on his t-shirt. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, nodding, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he touches his hand to yours, fingers glancing over your wrist before he pulls away. He steps backward again, eyes not leaving yours. Thankfully there’s no display in his path for him to topple over, but he only looks away when he reaches the door, that almost-smile you’ve been chasing since the first day you met spreading into a full-blown grin that sends butterflies shooting through your stomach. “Bye, Joel.”

“Bye,” he replies, your name a near-whisper afterward.

As soon as the door shuts, the tinkle of bells echoing, you slump across the counter with a squeal. The bells ding again a second later, and you shoot upright, schooling your face into a normal-looking smile and greeting the customer that’s just walked through the door.

+

It’s nearly ten o’clock that night, when your phone rings.

You’re lounging in bed, a book propped against your knees, Sheryl Crowe crooning out of your stereo. The robotic ring makes you jump, and you hit the answer button quickly, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, I know it’s late,” Joel says, and you smile, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Had a long day, and I almost didn’t call, but I really wanted to.”

“I’m glad you did,” you reply, letting the book fall shut on your lap. “What made your day so long?”

It’s easy conversation, the two of you chatting for a good hour. He talks about the job site he’s been working at, his brother that works with him, how his truck nearly broke down when he went to leave, making him late to get home. The call only comes to an end when you’re both making each other yawn, mumbling apologies every time.

“I should let you get some sleep,” Joel nearly whispers, his voice so soft through the phone you barely hear it. “Didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”

“I’m sure you can make it up to me,” you quip, rolling onto your side, keeping the phone pressed to your ear. “But I like talking to you, just for the record.”

“I like talking to you, too,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Just for the record.”

“Are you making fun of me?” you ask, faking shock. He laughs.

“Nah, I just like the way you talk, darlin’,” he says, and the pet name makes you shiver. “I’ll let you go.”

“You didn’t ask,” you say quickly, and he pauses, dead air on the line for a moment.

“What?”

“I said you could make it up to me,” you tell him, rolling onto your back, glancing out the window at the moon, big and white in the dark sky. “That was your opening to ask me out.”

Another pause, and you’re holding your breath, chewing your lip.

“Have dinner with me on Friday?”

You hum, beaming into the phone. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Joel barks a laugh, the biggest one you’ve gotten out of him yet, and you smile harder. “You’re trouble.”

“You’re the one having dinner with me,” you shoot back, and he laughs again, softer this time. “Goodnight, Joel.”

You can tell he’s still smiling. “Goodnight.”

NEXT

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: cruel summer | chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Pairing: No outbreak!Joel Miller/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 6/6

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Join a tag list

Summary: Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Author’s Note: This is the end! Thank you all so much for enjoying this little fic that I have loved writing. Requests are open if you have anything you wanna see in the future 🥰

Additional Tags/Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age gap (23F and 38M), mild/moderate angst (resolved!), alcohol consumption, discussions of family dynamics, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), slight fem dom?, dirty talk, pet names. Let me know if any are missing!

You don’t hear from Joel the next two days, save for the text he’d sent the night he dropped you off at your apartment with a broken heart. He said he’d fix this and god, you want to believe him. But silence doesn’t feel promising.

Your dad has called no less than twenty times since that night. You’ve let them all rot away in your voicemail graveyard. You don’t have the motivation to do much besides sit on the couch for your daytime crying and move back to your bed for your nighttime crying before exhaustion finally wins and you fall asleep.

There’s a knock at your door on the third day, but you don’t make any move to answer it. You hear the key turn in the lock and your mom enters the apartment.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says gently, setting down an armful of groceries in the kitchen before sitting beside you on the couch, smoothing your unwashed hair from your face with a gentle hand. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but I think I know the answer.”

Tears prick at your eyes. “It hurts, mama.”

“I know, baby,” she murmurs. She pulls your head to her chest. “Have you heard from Joel? Or your daddy?”

“No, I haven’t heard anything from Joel. Dad’s called a bunch, but I…I don’t wanna talk to him, mama. He was so mean.”

“You gotta think about where he’s coming from. You’re his only baby, his little girl. He’s having a hard time separating the baby he used to rock to sleep from the woman who can make her own choices. And he reacted with the heart of a dad, not the brain of a logical man.”

You sniff. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know. You don’t have to forgive him. I’m spittin’ mad at the man myself. But I just wanted you to know.” She presses a kiss to your head. “Now, help me put those groceries away. I have somewhere I gotta be in an hour.”

________

Joel nervously scrapes at the paper label on his beer bottle as he waits for his lunch guest to arrive. He’s been a wreck the past couple of days, trying to keep it together in front of Sarah while his mind wanders to you, your last words to him ringing in his ears.

I love you, Joel Miller. I hope you find it in you to not be a coward and love me back.

That’s exactly what he intends to do. He just needs someone on his side.

Which is why he texted your mom a few nights ago, asking if he could talk to her.

The woman in question approaches the table and Joel stands to greet her, holding an arm out for a handshake. She only rolls her eyes, pulling him into a hug that surprises him. When she seats herself, the waiter swings by and takes her order for a glass of Chardonnay before leaving the two of them to stare at each other.

“So. Joel Miller. You love my daughter, huh?” She asks. He swallows nervously.

“Yes, m’am.”

“And my husband was an asshole to you about it?”

He considers his response. “It..uh..could have gone better.”

She nods. The waiter drops off her wine glass and she takes a dainty sip. “Well. Tell me the whole story.”

So he does. He leaves out the more salacious bits, because your mom doesn’t need to know about what happened in her kitchen, instead focusing on how you drew him in with your sweet disposition and he was helpless to avoid falling in love with you. He tells her about bringing Sarah over and how you played with his little girl like she was the only thing that mattered in that moment. He talks about the trip to the aquarium. He mentions his stupid attempt at pushing you away.

“And I can’t do that again, m’am. I don’t want to. I told your husband that she’s the best thing that’s happened to me since Sarah was born, and I meant every word.”

The whole time, she stays quiet, sipping her wine. Occasionally, a small smile will pass across her lips.

“You know, my own daddy didn’t like my husband when he first met him. Thought he was a no good troublemaker. I think my husband forgets that he’s just as in love with someone’s daughter as you are with mine. And one day someone will love your little girl, and you’ll think they’re not good enough for her, too. It’s the curse of being a father.”

Joel nods, unsure of what to say. Your mom finishes her glass of wine before continuing.

“I think you should join us for dinner tonight, Joel. And I promise to change the gun safe code before you get there.”

________

Joel shows up at your parents house with a bottle of wine and enough nervous energy to power a small city. He feels like he might throw up as he waits for someone to answer the door.

Thankfully, it’s your mom. He hands over the bottle of Chardonnay he brought and she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“Chin up. You got this,” she says, patting him on the shoulder and guiding him to the living room.

Your dad is sitting on the couch, a glass of whiskey in hand as he staunchly refuses to meet Joel’s eyes. He takes a seat in one of the accent chairs.

“My wife says I owe you an apology,” your dad says. “And that I need to get my head out of my ass before I lose it up there for good.”

Joel has to fight back his laugh, biting his lip hard.

“I just want my daughter to be happy. And she’s right, she’s an adult now. I forget, sometimes,” he continues. “She used to ask me to check for monsters under her bed and in her closet. Hard to believe that same girl is about to graduate college. Become a doctor. Save the world. All the best things I always wished for her. And I also used to wish she’d find someone to love her. And I can’t begrudge you for being that person. So, I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Your mom shouts from the kitchen. Your dad rolls his eyes.

“For being an asshole. And ruining your date,” he grumbles. He drains the rest of his drink.

“Thank you, sir,” Joel replies. Your mom enters the living room.

“Excellent. Now, come on, Joel. Let’s talk New Year’s Eve plans.”

________

It’s New Year's Eve and your mom showed up at your apartment just after dinner with a garment bag and a stern expression.

“You are coming to the party, young lady,” she insists. “Now get in the shower.”

You do what she asks with heavy limbs. You still haven’t heard from Joel. Your dad’s phone calls have stopped. You’re not exactly looking forward to seeing him tonight.

When you get out of the shower, your mom is wielding your blow dryer like a weapon. You sit at your desk while she styles your hair for you. You do your makeup under her watchful eye, then slip into the shiny silver dress she brought for you.

“Gorgeous. Come on. Let’s go.”

She hustles you into the passenger seat of her car and drives to her house. There’s a whole line of cars parked along the curb, and you groan at the idea of having to mingle with their friends.

“Alright, in you go, chop chop,” your mom says, shooing you from the vehicle. You enter the bustling house, forcing a smile as some of your dad’s business colleagues and your mom’s friends say hello, pulling you into hugs and cheek kisses.

Your mom brings you a glass of champagne, pulling you along at her side as she talks with her guests. When the doorbell rings, your mom politely asks you to answer the door.

When you do, you feel like you’re hallucinating. Standing on the front porch is Joel, dressed in a suit, his wild curly hair slicked back and his face clean shaven.

Christ, the man can wear a suit.

“Hey, baby,” he says.

Seemingly out of nowhere, your dad appears beside you. “Hey, Joel! Come on in, can I get you anything to drink?”

You look between the two men, feeling like you’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone. Have you missed something?

Your dad shakes Joel’s hand, all smiles, and your questions only multiply. Joel squeezes your hip as he passes by, following your dad to the kitchen for a drink. You trail behind them, confused as hell as you watch them chat like they’re old friends and your dad pours him a glass of whiskey.

“Uh, Joel?” You ask. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he replies. He excused himself with your dad and you lead him upstairs to your childhood bedroom, his palm hot on your lower back.

In your room, you shut the door and take a deep breath. “Joel, what’s happening?”

“I fixed it,” he says, setting his glass down on your old dresser.

“You fixed it,” you repeat incredulously. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he says, stepping closer and slipping an arm around your waist, “I’m all in. No more runnin’. No more secrets. No more bein’ a coward. It means I’m yours, and you’re mine, and nothin’ is gonna change that.”

You blink at him. “But…my dad—“

“Met with him and your mom. Had some good talks. He just wants you to be happy, baby. He did threaten that he knew a good place to hide a body if I hurt you, though.”

“Why didn’t you call me? Or text me?”

“Because when I came back to you on my knees beggin’ for forgiveness, I wanted to have everythin’ squared away.” He drops down to one knee, then the other, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his as his hands grip your hips. “So, can you forgive me, baby?”

You smirk. “I could probably be persuaded.”

“Naughty girl,” he murmurs, trailing a hand up your calf. “You want me to earn it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, voice already breathy and your core clenching in anticipation. “I think you owe me a real thorough apology, Joel.”

He grins at you as his fingers reach the hem of your dress, urging it up your thighs until it’s bunched around your waist, exposing your panties underneath. He gently pulls them down your legs, eyes glued to your face as he does. He urges you to step out of them once they’re around your ankles.

Tossing them to the side, he lifts one of your legs and situates it on his shoulder, opening you up to his hungry gaze.

“Missed you so much, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. “Was goin’ crazy without you.”

“Less talking, more apologizing,” you demand, breathing already labored.

He huffs a laugh against your skin before angling his face toward your center, his nose brushing your needy clit as he licks a broad stripe through your folds, his tongue dipping into your entrance. Your head drops back against the door with a groan.

“You gotta be quiet, can’t have all those nice people downstairs knowin’ you’re gettin’ your pussy devoured, huh, baby?”

You bite your lip to hold your noises as he returns to his apology, licking and sucking and biting at you until you’re a writhing mess.

“Joel!” You whisper-shout, tugging on his hair. “Want your cock, baby, please?”

His lips are shiny with your essence as he stands, hands working his belt and fly open in quick succession. He presses a messy kiss to your lips as he frees his cock, an arm wrapping around your waist to lift you up, your legs automatically circling his hips. His hot length slides against your clit and you moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed in his kiss.

He presses you against the wall so that he can use one hand to position his cock at your dripping entrance, pressing his hips forward to drive himself inside you. Your arms cling to his shoulders as you gasp at the stretch.

“Christ, darlin’,” he whispers against your neck. “I’m not gonna last long like this.”

“Don’t care,” you reply, swiveling your hips in an attempt to get him to move. “Come on, baby, you’re not gonna make me cum standing still.”

Joel chuckles darkly, drawing back and slamming harshly up into you, the power of it knocking the breath from your lungs. He pounds into you harshly, his hands sure to leave fingertip shaped bruises on the skin of your hips and ass where he holds you to drag you over his length.

“Touch yourself, pretty girl, I need you to cum with me,” he demands. You slip a hand between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with little finesse as you work in tandem with Joel to reach your release.

It shatters over you in a consuming wave, your legs going tight around his waist as you lean forward to bite your scream into his shoulder. You feel his cock pulse inside of you as he presses in deep, his release warm as it fills you to the brim.

You slump against him, boneless in the aftermath. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder before gently lowering you to the ground, an arm looped around your waist to support you as you try to stand on shaky legs.

He tucks his softening cock away into his boxers, pulling his pants up. He locates your panties on the brown and kneels down to help you step back into them.

“Not gonna steal this pair?” You tease. He nips the inside of your knee in retaliation.

“Only because I’m not about to send you out in your parents house with my cum dripping down your thighs,” he replies, situating the fabric on your hips before pulling your dress back down over your thighs. When he stands, he pulls you into a deep kiss, his palms framing your cheeks. “I love you,” he says as he pulls back.

You grin at him, smoothing your fingers through his mussed hair. “I love you, too.”

________

You rejoin the party, your hand in Joel’s as he leads you to the kitchen for a drink refill. It’s nearing midnight, and your dad has turned on the TV in the living room to the ball drop in anticipation.

The man in question is in the kitchen with your mom, the two of them flushed from their drinks and the heat of the full house. Your dad gives you a tentative smile.

“Hi,” he says as the two of you approach. You release Joel’s hand to pull him into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers.

“I know. Thank you, dad,” you reply. You don’t miss the shine in his eyes when you pull back and kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he tells you.

The noise in the house starts to grow as the ball begins to drop, the countdown echoed in chorus by the party goers. Joel hands you a glass of champagne, pulling you into his side as he starts to join in.

“3…2…1! Happy New Year!!”

Joel tilts your face to his, planting a kiss to your lips, in front of everyone. When you pull away, your mom tugs you into a hug and your dad shakes Joel’s hand, both men smiling.

And you can’t help but think how amazing it is that one summer can change your whole world.

Tag list: @huffle-punk @telepathay @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @caatheeriinee07 @leeeesahhh @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @lovebandrry @str84pedro @daddy-din @missgurrl @paleidiot @mattmurdock1021

[moonlight-prose]

Tommy Miller. Please hit me with all the psychoanalyzing/breaking his ass down you've got because you're the queen of writing him imo. I'm ready 🍿

(thank you! 💖)

tommy miller thoughts & musings

note: the queen???? you're so fucking sweet my darling raven. i have been saving this for when the brain rot returns, but i have to be honest - the brain rot for this man never leaves. so here we go!

There's never been a man more devoted to the concept of love - even if it's muddled in his mind. He treasures his family. He'd die for them. That fact remained true the day he turned sixteen and realized how Joel stepped in.

How he helped in making sure the little brother who followed him around everywhere (both in awe and to be a constant annoyance) become the man he was today. Joel Miller. The legend he one day hoped to make proud.

The fact of death - of family and love - hardened in his mind in time with his heart. Something broke the night Sarah died. Fractured his soul at the sight of his big brother - his hero - lying in the blood of his niece, begging for her to live.

The imaginary concept of dying for his family...now suddenly a reality.

Tommy Miller is a man who uses humor to hide the dying light in his brown eyes. He's the first to offer a smile, a helping hand, the promise of hope. Because what little remained in his mind was barely enough for him. Yet he gave it away without question.

The lessons of his big brother live in his mind - a tether to the life he once had. This is his commandment; the rules he's set for himself to keep a piece of the old Tommy alive. Though the world may have gone to shit, he refused to go down with it. Even as Joel and him committed atrocities - destroyed the humanity in their souls - he fought to keep himself in tact.

Tommy Miller is a man who is scared of so much yet keeps it to himself. What's the fucking point of making a spectacle of his fears? Who would care to listen? He'd been on this shattered road for so long he forgot that he was human. That he deserved light and love and a chance to redeem the sins of his past.

He's afraid of dying.

He's reminded of it every day he opens his eyes.

But he won't reveal the real horror that is buried in the depths of his heart. The darkness he hates with a bitterness on his tongue. Oh how he wished he could spit it out like tobacco. Cleanse himself in the River Styx and resurface anew.

Tommy Miller is a man who is is afraid of dying.

Tommy Miller is a man who wants to die.

Tommy Miller...is a man who wants to love and be loved in the horrendous tumultuous landscape of hell he's found himself in.

He cares with his entire body. Loves with every part of his heart and soul. He gives and gives and gives, hoping that it would be enough to suffice for the broken parts of a hollow man. If you look close - inspect the makeup of who he is - you'd see the pain.

You'd catch a glimpse of the mania behind the curtain.

So he offers himself up on a silver platter (everything he believes you want) to deter you from pushing down the wall holding him together. He begs for more, silently fighting against the ache of need that sprouts deep. Yet assures you that he's fine. He's okay.

He's alive.

That's what he wants.

And that would have to be enough; knowing that to ask for more in this world, was to dip himself in the greed he knew couldn't be appeased.

Tommy Miller.

A man who gave the world too much. Yet managed to smile in spite of his grief.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Mercy

My entry for the Haunted Hoedown created by @inklore and @psychedelic-ink. Day 7- stranded au or slasher / summer camp au + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Major character death, stranded in the woods, post apocalyptic life, non con, mentions of previous experiences of non con, suicidal reader)

Summary: Stranded alone in the woods and left to die, all you can ask of Joel Miller is the mercy of a quick death. He is willing to give it to you, but he needs something for himself as well.

A/N: It’s another Joel Miller weekend here at lokischocolatefountain. I have a husband!Javi locked and loaded, ready to go. But Joel demand my attention once again for the haunted hoedown. So Javi has to wait another week.

You were safe.

Well, safe from the men who had captured you. But other dangers awaited. If you were lucky, it would just be starvation, an encounter with a wild animal or a fucking heart attack. But you didn’t think your good luck would stretch that far. You were already that the raiders who killed and raided the belongings of the men who captured you did not seem interested in you. It was a goddamn miracle.

Ropes bound your arms behind your back and your legs to each other. Either the ropes were tied too tight or you had become weaker over the past ten days of captivity. They didn’t have much food to spare you. Only the small pieces of rotting meat that they fed to you on the condition that you suck their cocks.

It wasn’t as though you had a choice when tied up the way you were. There were other women held captive with you- younger, prettier, less willing to comply and more appealing to the men as they liked a challenge. You were one of the older models, beaten ragged by life both before and after the world fell apart. For them, a woman was a woman. No matter how broken you were, there was always more to break. No matter your age or how fucking crazy you’d gone from survival, you had a pair of tits and three holes. For most men, it was more than they could dream of. For you, separated from your group and all alone, it was the only thing you could barter.

Now there was no need for any of it. You would decay on the ground along with the fallen leaves and the blood you’d spilled when the men cut through your clothes. The last of the women after another one decayed just a couple feet away from you. Yours was a fate better than the girls who were taken away by the raiders. Experience had taught you that. The last time you’d been in the hands of such a group, you were younger. They used you to their heart’s content and then sold you to a man for a good price- a whole goat, a bag of rice, a record player and a couple of vinyls, and a leather jacket. Pretty good stuff. If you had to valuate yourself now, you’d probably go for a small fraction of that- maybe just the leather jacket.

You would no longer go for the same price. You no longer had the strength to kill the man who purchased you like you were just a thing.

You swallowed, your throat aching for water. But all you got was the piercing pain of a hundred jagged pebbles scratching your throat. One of the factoids from an old encyclopedia popped up in your head: It takes x days for dehydration to cause death. Unfortunately, your brain hadn’t thought to pay more attention to the number, leaving you with no information.

What you knew was that it took one day of dehydration to wish for death.

Daylight withered away and darkness descended in the woods, matching the darkness of your thoughts. In the pitch black night with no stars or even a sliver of the moon, whether your eyes were open or closed did not matter. In the times before, it was advised for women to return home before nightfall. As though danger only lurked in darkness. As though men did not behave atrociously in broad daylight. Shaking on the ground from the cold, dehydrated, near death, your biggest fear was still man.

It was why the snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves under a heavy footfall struck more fear in you than the sight of the infected ever did. Man.

Measured. Careful. Not infected. Man.

He could just be passing by.

It could’ve been delusions inspired by dehydration and starvation, but the footsteps sounded just a little louder as the seconds passed. He was getting closer.

Joel Miller didn’t know, but your body already played to his beat, your heartbeats responding to the sound of his footsteps. Pills from Atlanta passed on to him from his contact rested in his backpack, the currency with the highest value in the QZ. His hand itched to take one pill for himself. Just one. The nightmares of losing his child flashed before his eyes even before he could succumb to the weariness of the journey and sleep. A pill would help.

Don’t get high on your own supply.

He needed to be at his best state of mind since he was traveling alone now, his companion having been taken out by a clicker on their journey. But God was it tempting.

Darkness enveloped the woods. The moon and stars had abandoned Earth for the night, afraid that if they shone their light on the land, they’d see its haunting wreckage. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but it still played tricks on him. For a second, he believed he might have seen a figure move on the ground.

Leaves rustled and crunched beneath his feet. His hands immediate grabbed the gun he had at the ready, the muzzle pointed to the ground. It hit something— someone, he realized when it gasped.

“Please,” your low, shaky voice begged. “Please shoot me.”

He would’ve thought he misheard. Who’d ask to be shot when threatened with a gun? But such was the world in which they’d lived. Death was sometimes more desirable than whatever horrors life had to offer. Joel had survived, somehow. Violence and the sheer human instinct for self preservation kept him around until now, even a decade and a half after the collapse of society.

He brought a lighter close to the ground and lit it, the little golden flame illuminating your bloodied and bruised. He noticed that your arms were bound behind your back and legs tied together at your ankles.

Joel understood you didn’t have long. A day maybe. Longer if you were fed and hydrated. He himself was not interested in charity. If someone else happened by you and you were able to convince them to toss you a piece of bread… But you didn’t want charity. You asked for his bullet, not sustenance.

Bullets didn’t grow on trees.

“Good news. You’ll be dead by daybreak.”

“Please,” you whimpered in a low gravelly voice, mustering up all your energy to beg for this small act of mercy.

You hadn’t asked for his precious rations or water. Only that he finish you off with the weapon he pointed at you. He dropped his belongings somewhere in the vicinity, not bothering to dignify your request with a response.

Joel lied down on the ground in the vicinity in a sleeping bag, his pack serving as a pillow. Sleep did not come easy. He merely rested his eyes, his sense attuned to his surroundings even when he was meant to rest.

When the sun rose, he rolled his sleeping bag and set it inside a hollow tree before heading to the pond nearby. He returned, having washed up, ready to resume his journey back to the QZ. Curious about you, he went to the site where you were last night.

“Please,” you begged once again. “Before you leave. Please.”

He nudged you with his boot, your weakening body rolling to the side and giving him a good view. One bullet. But what a waste of a good body. He could help you in return for something for himself. There was a brothel in the QZ, of course. The oldest profession carried on right under FEDRA’s nose. They pretended to not notice. Sometimes, they’d conduct a raid and arrest some women under the guise of maintaining the law. An excuse for the FEDRA guys to have the women for themselves for the night.

Joel did not indulge in such services. He didn’t see the point in spending precious ration cards just to get off. His spit and left hand were enough for him to get by. But you were free of cost.

“Since you asked so nicely…” he drawled, withdrawing his knife from its holster. He sliced through the ropes that bound your ankles together. You didn’t know his intentions though you’d come to expect it from men over the years. If he wanted to take advantage, he surely would’ve gone ahead with it last night. Sure, Joel hadn’t intended it at first. But now that you were available…

Reliable contraception had died with the world. Too risk averse in this specific matter, he’s contented himself with the rare blowjob. Pussy was a delicacy he hadn’t had in a while. You didn’t protest as he tore your pants off of you, finding skin beneath.

“Be good and I might just kill you in the end, darlin’…” he promised and you spread your legs, cooperating, being good so he would consider it. You didn’t know when the next person would pass by this place. Even if someone did before you could die a slow death, there was no assurance that they’d kill you rather than prolong your miserable existence.

“Wha’s your name?”

“Joel.”

Joel. Joel brought a damp cloth to your face, wiping the blood and dirt off you. It was…strange. It felt as though you were being taken care of. It wasn’t the case of course. But it felt good to believe he was taking care of you. It was the first bit of humanity you’d experienced in a very long time.

The blade slipped under your half torn t-shirt, cutting up the fabric that had done a poor job so far of giving you any dignity. His large hand roamed your now naked torso. Calluses caught on your somehow soft skin. The sensation was the first pleasant thing you’d felt in a long time. You attempted unconsciously to lean into his touch, but your weakness kept you glued to the ground. Even the cold blade of his knife felt good. You’d gone mad, surely. This was definitely a stage of delusion caused by your dehydration and starvation.

He cupped your cheek and leaned down, capturing your lips with his. It was as though you’d forgotten to kiss. The men who took interest in you were less concerned with making use of your lips for a kiss. If Joel had put his cock between them, you would’ve known better what to do. It seemed he’d also forgotten. He wasn’t kissing you. He bit and sucked and devoured.

Your hands were still tied behind you. They dug into your back. But it didn’t hurt as much as Joel’s hand supping your tits. Even the animals who last had you under their control were gentler than this. But you weren’t too offended. It hurt. But there would be sweet death at the end of all this pain. So you embraced it fully, letting out nothing but a little whimper as a sign that you were at all affected by his touch.

Even in your state of near death, you could tell that he was a handsome man. Grey interspersed black curls on his head. Patchy beard hid rugged, sun damaged skin. His aquiline nose would’ve inspired sinful thoughts in you had you been further away from death. In a normal world, he would’ve been getting a drink at a bar and you would’ve noticed him.

Joel spit on his hand and rubbed it around on your dry cunt. With his thumb and forefinger, he parted your cunt lips before inserting his middle finger. Inch by painful inch, he penetrated your unwilling body that was attached to a very willing mind. There was no water left to be spared to wetten your cunt for the man.

“C-cut me,” you suggested, desiring the penetration to be smoother. If this was the last time you got to be fucked, it wouldn’t hurt to hurt a little to enjoy the last few minutes on the mortal plane. “Bl-blood.”

He seemed to understand your weak implication. You hissed as the sharp edge of his knife cut through the top layers of your skin. Red blood oozed out and he swept his hand over it, collecting the blood and smearing it over your cunt. He slipped a finger inside you, lubricating your hole with your own blood.

He knelt over you, his knees on either side of your body. Then he unzipped his jeans, the teeth of the zipper making a scratching metal sound. He was a good length, girth and veiny. He stroked himself as he stared at your bloodied hole.

Fucking a dying woman using her own blood as lube. Of all the messed up things he had done, this was easily on the top ten. Not that he maintained an actual list. Despite her decrepit state, she looked welcoming with her legs spread out and eyes on his cock. He bent your legs at your knees, your body pliant in its weakness. You were a thing of rare beauty in his journey. Nature had reclaimed its place, growing between abandoned cars and splitting into giant overpasses. This, you, were another part of nature to him.

Woman, all beautiful in your vulnerability, laid out to be claimed.

He guided his cock between your legs and forced himself in. Red lube you’d given up for him to use on you coated his cock, reminding him of the violence of his desire. He twitched inside you as he pushed in, a perverse sort of excitement stimulating him.

He brought the knife up to your neck and rested the blunt edge against your throat. You gulped. Your eyes widened. Your breaths quickened. Your cunt clenched around his cock and Oh God how divine you felt this way.

You’d asked for death, practically begged for it. But fear was not something you could prevent. Your wretched mortal body was programmed with the foolishness of wanting to stay alive.

“Been so long,” he muttered when he bottomed out inside you. Though you’d had many men inside you, it’d been long since any stretched you out so good. You took a deep breath and wished you had your hands free. You were overcome by a sudden urge to touch him. To run you hands down his sturdy arms and solid chest. It’d been so long since you wished.

“Good?” You asked, squeezing his cock. He smiled and bent forward to kiss you. Your lips, your chin, along your jaw. It was tender. Too tender for sex in the woods with your clothes torn off and your thigh bleeding into the soil.

He began to move, pulling out just a little before pushing back in. He savored it. After all, this could be his last chance at a cunt for a very long time. He grabbed on to your tits to use as handles, making you squeeze around him. Your lips let out a painful little whine, but he didn’t feel guilty. What bad did a little more pain do? You were going to die anyway. If you weren’t making use of your tits and cunt, at least he could enjoy them.

“So good…” he praised and you responded in kind, thrusting back weakly. “Yeah? You like that, cunt?” He asked, using the crude word in place of your name. He didn’t even know your name. But Cunt was appropriate for the purpose you served. You nodded. “I really struck gold in the fucking woods of all places, huh.”

“Good cunt,” he praised, the words shooting straight into said body part.

“Feelin’ good?”

You nodded, unable to say much else under the assault of the sensations. You didn’t have to for he claimed your lips once again in a kiss. He was better this time and so were you. Your lips stayed connected with his just like your pussy with his cock, devouring each other in desperation for a taste of something good in all the wretchedness.

Joel’s cock drilled into you. Merciless, fast, painful. All you knew before was hunger and suffering. With him, it had all disappeared. It was just Joel now. He consumed you, turning you from a discarded body passed from one raider to the other to Good Cunt. You liked the sound of those words on his lips.

“Just like that, Cunt,” he hissed as you milked his cock, your thighs cramping as your muscles contracted. Something pulled somewhere and you screamed in pain and your cunt tightened for him. Warm cum spilled inside you, the sensation a distracting relief in the midst of the pain.

Tears slipped down the sides of your face, cooling your skin.

“Did well. Did so well, Cunt,” he praised as he tucked himself back inside. He hadn’t felt so good in forever. Such a relief. Such an unburdening of stress and anxiety over his smuggling and its chances of success. He zipped himself up and bent over to retrieve his weapons.

“How do you want to go?” He asked, weighing the gun in one hand and knife in another as he looked down at your debauched body.

You made your choice, thanked him for his mercy and closed your eyes.

.

.

.

My Masterlist

[jolapeno]

hello my lovely @nerdieforpedro - this was sent to @undercoverpena-fics (so I've screenshotted and brought it to my main blog). i know this is for all fanfics, but I'm just going to look at one shots otherwise this will be mainly series haha and I'm also going to pick a fave from each person I've written so far just to keep things fresh.

-> there's nothing blue about you [javi p]

a newbie, but a goodie. old!jo, before she got here, used to write like this a lot and getting to stick my hands into my own brain and use paints to describe feelings was everything. it might not be for everyone, but it's one of my faves for sure.

-> fifteen hundred and one [frankie m]

smut rolls out of me when it comes to this man, but god, when i get the chance to write a friends to lovers, it always feels like it's with him too. this was so soft, so sweet that when i finished writing it i kicked my own feet. i love it.

-> be good, be quiet [joel m]

i was so torn for him because there's another i love just as much. but you lot, the brain rot this story gave me. i worked on it for weeks, and it's all i could think about. and even before i thought of posting, i was tweaking bits and then putting them back because i was just so obsessed with this version of him. still am.

-> cold lips, blue [din d]

this entire little series, not series brings me so much joy, but this particular piece i felt really pleased with when i finished it. i love when i get to lean into my weird, synonym and lyrical heavy writing because it's kind of my favourite? and this entire series is me describing things we see every day, that she hasn't.

-> take me to yours [javi p]

gosh, newbie-to-pedro jo writing javi, this one i still adore so much. i can see how I've improved, but also that same love is still there. I've learnt from looking at this list, and battling over whether to choose this one or in my room [javi p] that i really loveeee writing narcos-centred javi.

i hope this was okay, i wasn't sure how to format this or if my rambling was warranted, but it made me feel better about tooting and that's what matters <3

[thosewickedlovelies]

wildflowers  |  Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: A change in the air, small as a candle flame

Tags: No warnings tbh. GN!Reader, not an age gap fic. If any soap-makers are reading this, do not tell me if I’m wrong about the QZ’s capabilities

Words: 1,511

Note: hiii babes. I don’t really know what this is, other than my brain’s desire to say something about this man. A possibility, perhaps. Written after ep 3, although there’s no plot/canon references.

Masterlist

Joel’s knees ache with every step upward to his apartment. The staircase protests beneath his weight, as if the chipped paint of the railing and the grime and graffiti on the walls weren’t warning enough about the state of this place. Not that people had much of a choice about it. This building is no more derelict than all the rest in the QZ. Unless it’s FEDRA quarters, maybe.

Joel snorts, and then has to stop as a lance of pain through his ribs takes the rest of his breath away. Fuck. Bruised from that slip he took earlier, maybe. Damn sewer maintenance.

Joel can hardly remember a time before the ever-present pain. Had there ever been a point when at least one part of his body didn’t ache, or twinge, or pinch? Had he ever lived in a world where everything wasn’t as gray as this fucking staircase, where he at least had some distraction at home from the shitty parts of the world and his aging body?

The door to his apartment opens, and the first thing Joel registers is the smell. It’s pleasant, sweet, like a sunny meadow full of wildflowers. What the fuck? Nothing smelled nice in the QZ- even all the flowering plants of spring couldn’t cover the stench of human hopelessness or the rotting world outside the walls. 

“Joel! You’ll never guess what I found last night!” You rush around the corner from the living room.

Carried by your passage, another wave of scent billows over him. Amidst dropping his keys and gear, Joel pauses for a fraction of a second, his eyes closing. Memories rise up, unbidden: a fat, tri-wick Yankee candle in his childhood living room, one in a rotation of his mother’s favored scents. The heady perfume of real flowers, the ones lining the fence of an Austin side street where he first kissed-

His jaw clenches, and he lets his pack thunk loud onto a dining room chair, hoping the sound will shatter the hold of his memories. 

Joel turns his head to you, raising his eyebrows. Well?

“Candles! That’s what the smell is- they were buried under some debris in an old corner shop, you know, the kind that were the first places to be looted when everything went to shit. Nobody went digging for a pack of scented candles then, but now…” Your eyes shine, proud and somehow…happy? 

Joel glances past you, to where a tiny flame dances brightly on the rickety bit of wood you call a coffee table. A little scented wax, about as useful as a bottle of perfume but more wasteful (firestarters being a valuable commodity), has brought you this much joy?

“I hope you plan on sellin’ the rest of the pack, unless you found somethin’ else to make the trip worthwhile.”

He doesn’t look back as he heads to the bathroom, intent on getting out of the sacrificial clothes he wears to work in the sewers.

You scoff, trailing after him to deliver your retort. “Obviously I did, no way I’m selling the whole pack. I need something to cover up your stink.”

Scowling, Joel pokes his head out around the bathroom door, only to see your mouth already open to finish him off. 

“And I’m not talking about the days you work sewage.” You smirk at him triumphantly.

A deeply resigned sigh is the only response you hear.

Joel has had two years to get used to you as a roommate, after the last building you both lived in collapsed unexpectedly (Or at least, unexpectedly to most. Joel had seen the signs, which was why he hadn’t lost as much of his stuff as everyone else. But he hadn’t been able to predict the exact moment it would fall). You’re…not the worst he could have gotten. Between your respective smuggling groups, you lived reasonably well (Joel still remembers the night that realization had come to light- it was the closest he’d come to genuine laughter in years). You’d even gone on the occasional independent run together. You don’t get in his way, but nor do you enable his worst impulses; although he’d never acknowledge it, it’s come to be something of a relief to have you around.

You’ve moved on from making fun of him, now listing other goods last night’s trip had brought in, interspersed with the occasional observation on the world outside or gossip about the people in your group.

Joel listens with half an ear, silent but not uninterested. When the last of his clothes are hung outside the window (where they’ll remain exiled until his next trip down below or until the smell fades), he turns to bathtub.

Shit.

For all their skill of stretching resources, their latest bar of soap had finally squeaked out its last gasp of bubbles yesterday. Their spare was still in its protective wrapping…somewhere decidedly not in the bathroom.

Joel sighs again.

The pile of spandex that was his underwear lies crumpled in the tub already. He’s motionless for a long moment, his ribs sore, his skin gritty.

“Hey,” he says, interrupting your musings.

“…Yeah?”

“I forgot to bring in the other soap. Would you mind…grabbin’ it for me.”

“Oh, sure.”

Silence stretches between you, as intangible and yet undeniable as the network connecting the mycelium. It’s there even as other sounds spring up- your quiet footsteps, the rustle of you rummaging through packaging. 

It thickens as you return to the bathroom door.

“Here.”

Your voice is closer than before. Just on the other side of a thin wooden barrier. No other sound breaches the silence connecting them, and Joel knows that it’s up to him to make the bridge.

The click of the doorknob is loud. Maybe silence is the wrong word for the thing connecting you, because it’s still present, undiminished despite sounds like that click, the whisper of the door opening, the beating of his heart.

The air on your side of the door is warmer without any windows open, and still laced with the scent of wildflowers. 

“Here you go.”

Your voice- it sounds like someone trying to sound normal, but failing in a way Joel doesn’t know how to describe. You feel it too.

Joel eases his body slightly further toward the gap, and reaches out his hand.

You try to keep your eyes on his face, or your hands. Try to keep your expression neutral, blandly amicable. But Joel sees the moment you fail. Catches your gaze flicker past the reach of his arm, to his very bare shoulders, chest, waist.

Joel hasn’t been a vain man in years. Decades. His reputation in the QZ is enough to keep most people from looking at him too long, anyway. But you….he’s seen you look at him. He’s let you look at him- in the silence of their shared apartment, on those rare, fraught ventures outside the walls. 

What you’re seeing now isn’t much more than what you’ve seen before. You’ve patched him up a time or two, and he you. All the same…

The look in your eyes strokes some dusty, long-forgotten part of Joel that wants to preen. 

It’s not a very overt look, to be fair. A tension in your jaw. A shadow of interest, a willingness to be interested, if it weren’t for something stopping you. Like you knew better than to entertain the notion that he would return your interest.

And Joel…feels bad about that.

What? 

Yes, that’s what that is, a twinge of regret- for being so closed-off, so unavailable, that you wouldn’t even consider that he’d be willing for a roll in the sheets. 

Your hands connect. Or rather, they both connect with the soap. The crude, QZ-produced chunk hovers between you, both of you holding onto it.

You swallow, your gaze finally tearing from the sliver of bare hip Joel had left visible beyond the edge of the door. Thick and strong as the rest of him, an intimate curve whose appearance sent your thoughts whirling like dandelion fluff. You force that careless smile back onto your face. 

Joel’s fingers are less than an inch from yours. He stares at them, their subtle, restless stroking motions against the waxy wrapping.

“Thanks,” Joel finally says.

“Sure.”

Something has shifted in your face. A cautious curiosity emerged, as if you recognize the presence of a new feeling seeping through the fracture in his thoughts; as if you’d felt it through the not-silence still connecting you.

Tentatively, you release the soap. Your invisible connection holds, unbroken despite that Joel now grips the soap alone.

He lifts it to his nose. His face wrinkles at its strange tang, too strong for it to truly be considered ‘unscented’.

“Maybe smellin’ nice ain’t so overrated after all.”

His grimace made you laugh; a grin breaks across your face, in a shade of teasing you’ve never used on Joel before.

“Well, you know where I’ll be.”

Joel watches you waltz back toward the living room, and breathes in the scent of wildflowers.

💕💕💕

[justagalwhowrites]

BESTIE I just need you to know I was like mostly? normal about Joel Miller before I started reading your fics and today I panicked trying to come up with a lockbox code to give my cat sitter and spat out Joel’s birthday I am (in the very best way) holding you responsible for this level of brainrot look what you’ve DONE

(Ily and your writing sm)

OMG BESTIEEEEEE

I love this so much! Thank you for letting me rot your brain about this insanely wonderful (and hot) old man.

Also I love Joel’s birthday because it’s my mom’s birthday (just the day not the year) so this year at her birthday dinner I was like “Happy Birthday to you and also Joel Miller” lmfaooooo she liked it a lot more before I was like “it was also the day Sarah died.”

Please keep joining me in the Joel Hole I need company down here.

LOVE YOU!!!

[vivian-pascal]

🌪️Asknado alert🌪️

Hi Vi! As a fellow scout I have a question for you!

If you had to be transported into the world of one Pedro character, which are you choosing?

hello there darling!!

hmmm this is a hard one!!

see if I were to be with Joel, Id have to adapt to surroundings that I'm unfamiliar with and constantly be on the run and be scared of infected or scavengers, but then again, I'd have Joel miller. THE man of all men. sexy, cute, handsome, strong, hunky. I would do absolutely anything to be with him. oh and I'd have amazing, gob smacking, brain rotting sex!!

if I were with Javi, I wouldn't really have to move around a lot but I wouldn't see him as often, since he's always on the hunt for escobar with Steve, but I'd be living a some what 'normal life' I mean I'd have to watch out for Javi and other girls since he has a reputation but I know that when he's with me, he'll never leave.

anywho, I'd have to go with the old man for me, I'll take Joel miller any day!!! but I am still truly and deeply committed to my man, javier pena.

[theflyingfeeling]

I don't know if you've already done this. I could find anything for this soooo...

Au where blind channel is in detention together

Soooo...kinda like The Breakfast Club? :D Except that I'm itching to combine this with the boarding school AU that's been rotting my brain for about a month now, I hope that's alright! 😁

Not knowing what else to do with their "problem child", Joel's parents send him to this uptight boarding school 🙄

Literally on the first day he gets himself in trouble by insulting the teacher's pet (Aleksi), who was more amused than offended about the whole thing to be honest

Meanwhile Joonas, Niko and Olli look at each other like 😏😏😏because boyyyyy does this newbie have a lot to learn!

What follows is a series of the most ridiculous fouls to get them in the same detention with Joel so that they can teach him how things are done around here: Niko is given a note because he kept interrupting the teacher's poetry analysis by constantly disagreeing (the teacher's ego didn't take it well), Olli fell asleep in the middle of his geography lecture (quite by accident though but it did the trick) and Joonas had failed to follow the dresscode by leaving his dress shirt mostly unbottened (another mishap really; Joonas and Niko had been interrupted mid-action in the men's room and Joonas didn't have the time to properly dress himself before the next lecture)

Tommi is not actually given detention (because he's a good boy!!), but he's Olli's math tutor and they had scheduled a tutoring session after the classes that day, so Tommi attends as well because he's a busy man and if Olli wants his tutoring (which he does, because he's secretly crushing on his nerdy tutor), he can solve math problems while cleaning the sports equipment storage (=the assignment they're given for the detention)

But why is the teacher's pet there as well? Why, he skipped class because he was helping out his friend Robin, the headmaster's son, with his French exam revision and they lost the track of time. Those French syllables can be extremely tricky for the tongue indeed.. 😇

"The first thing you need to know, my friend," Niko tells Joel, "is that the headmaster is corrupt as fuck. Stay in his good books, and you'll be good."

"If you think I'm here to please anyone, least of all that old fart-"

"Of course not, buddy," Joonas smiles. "You're a little rebel, and that's real cute alright, but there are a lot worse places mommy and daddy could have sent you to, so you better start making the best out of your time here. For example, I keep the headmaster stacked with Cuban cigars." 👌

"And you know why that preppy boy is here for skipping class but not the headmaster's son? It's because he's the headmaster's son," Niko adds.

"Actually," Aleksi corrects him, "Robin had a free period."

"Irrelevant," Niko shrugs. "The point is, if you know which strings to pull, you're gonna be fine."

"What about you?" Joel eyes Olli sceptically. His long black coat surely was against all the dress codes. "What do you do to deserve special dispensation?"

"The headmaster's wife likes me," Olli winks 😌

"And just for the record," Tommi clears his throat, "I'm only here because that dummy can't pass his math test." He points at Olli who attempts to hide his reddening cheeks behind the collar of his coat

"We know that, and we love you," Joonas reassures him

Nevertheless, they have to finish their task of tidying up the ball storage room, which soon turns into a game of basketball

...Which later turns into a wrestling match on the gymnastic mattresses 😳

And that's when the PE teacher walks in and gives them another detention for the next day for, umm, inappropriate behaviour, and because the sports equipment storage is even messier than it was before 😂

Joel is almost looking forward to it, because as it turns out, Aleksi might be the best wrestler out of them all.. 😏

[xomarauders]

okay i’m posting it now cuz i can’t wait :) enjoy!

—

“I can’t remember how you take your tea.”

Remus looked up, the book in his hands falling to his lap as he saw Sirius standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. His eyes were cast downward, and his shoulders were hunched inward, looking like a child who was waiting to be scolded by their mother. His bottom lip was tucked neatly between his teeth and Remus fought the urge to stand up and kiss it better. Sirius’ eyes were sort of glossed over and there was a melancholic look on his face mixed with pure agitation and confusion.  

Azkaban had taken a lot of things from Sirius; Remus knew that. The dementors were vicious creatures who toyed with the happy memories of their victims and twisted them into faux nightmares. Sirius had spent twelve years with them and when he finally escaped, the man who came out was not the same as the man Remus once knew.

There were still instances of the old Sirius that Remus’ heart would melt for whenever they happened to appear. Like the crunch of his nose whenever he was thinking intently and the way he bounced on his toes whenever he got excited. The way his eyes lit up when Remus read to him and the barking laugh that was rare to hear these days. Little things like that made it bearable for Remus to withstand the screaming he woke up to every night and the blank expression that resided on Sirius’ face most of the time. It was heartbreaking to see, but Remus would bear it in the hope that one day, the Sirius he loved would fully return to him.

“That’s okay, Sirius.” Remus said calmly even as his heart sank deeper into his stomach. How many other details had the dementors made foreign to the man in front of him? “Just a splash of milk. No sugar.”

Sirius let out a disgruntled sigh and his eyebrows furrowed more. His bony fists clenched at his side as he became frustrated with himself and Remus thought for a brief moment that the frail bones may break under the pressure. Apparently, Sirius’ impatience was still intact.

“Okay.”

He turned and left the room, leaving Remus alone with his book once more. He couldn’t be bothered to focus on reading now, though, and set the novel down on the small coffee table before him. The sound of dishes clinking softly together came from the kitchen where Sirius was attempting to make the tea and Remus wondered if he should go in to help or stay put. It was always like that now. The decision making that should have been simple but seemed near impossible now because of the circumstance. Remus knew what he would have done fourteen years ago but things had changed—they had changed—and Remus was walking on pins and needles, waiting for the inevitable breakdown to come.

“Here you go.” Sirius’ voice brought Remus out of his mind and he reached forward to take the tea from Sirius’ outstretched hand. He took a sip, feeling Sirius’ gaze on him and his heart broke a little bit more as the taste of sugar filled his mouth, but it might as well have been salt because of the bitter flavor it left.

“Is it right?”

Remus looked up to the hesitant eyes of the man he loved and the hopeful gleam that was hidden behind them and smiled the best he could. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

 * * *

“I can’t remember the lyrics.”

Remus had come home from the market to see his records scattered across the bedroom floor with Sirius sitting in the middle of them, head in his hands and tears streaming down his face. The record that was actually playing was instantly recognizable to Remus as Billy Joel’s “Turnstiles” and the track was “James,” making the whole scene that much more painful to bear witness to.

It would have been so much easier if James were here, Remus thought. James always knew how to handle the worst sides of Sirius, the two of them always having some sort of connection others couldn’t even comprehend and it jarred Remus not for the first time in his life that he ever believed Sirius could betray James Potter. How the war had twisted them, broken them down into fragments of distrust and paranoia.

“That’s okay, Sirius.” Remus said because what else could he say? What comfort could he possibly offer the broken man before him when he was partially to blame for it all? Remus had left him to rot in Azkaban just like everybody else did. He should have known better. He did know better.

“I miss him. I miss them both.”

Remus just nodded. There was nothing he could say that would banish the pain and anguish Sirius felt over losing James and Lily. He himself had yet to figure out how others dealt with such grief, how they woke up every morning claiming to feel better. All Remus felt was worse, with each passing day acting as a reminder that James and Lily Potter were gone from the Earth, taken in such a cruel and devastating way. The world had celebrated—the Dark Lord was gone! Let the light thrive! —but Remus had felt nothing but despair, a hole forever left in his heart. How could there be light with the two of them gone? They should have lived. Over him, Sirius, Peter and everybody else who had somehow survived that first war, it should have been James and Lily who made it out alive. But it wasn’t. Because fate or destiny or prophecy or whatever the fuck it was had made up its mind.

So, Remus sat down on the floor next to Sirius, and they cried for their fallen friends.

* * *

“I can’t remember how she died.”

Remus cringed, closing his eyes and willing himself to keep it together. They were standing there, he and Sirius, in front of the smallest headstone in the cemetery—it was all Remus could afford—looking down at the name scrawled across it.

                          Hope Howell Lupin

                                1938 – 1979

She was only forty-one when the cancer had finally consumed her. It was almost ironic that Hope had survived the early stages of the war and all the attacks against muggles but was defeated by some chronic disease that had no cure—magic or otherwise. It pained Remus to sit there and do nothing as he watched her wallow away to nothing those last few months. She had grown thin and frail that Remus had taken to carrying her around like a small child everywhere she went. A part of him was glad that Sirius couldn’t remember. It was hard on the both of them. Sirius had adored Hope and she adored him in return. He was so starved for motherly affection and she was so happy that Remus had someone who loved him that the two of them became fast friends. The day she died, Sirius cursed every star in the sky for taking away such a woman. He screamed about how unfair life was that it had taken her away, that he would die ten times over just to have her back. At the time, all Remus could do was watch Sirius yell into the night as he tried to understand his own feelings. He was never truly able to.

“It was a brain tumor.” Remus said and he hated how his voice cracked. “Cancer. Terrible.”

Sirius nodded minutely and they were quiet once more. After everything happened—with James and Lily’s deaths, Peter being assumed dead as well, and Sirius being locked away—Remus thought his life was an embodiment of irony. He had lost everyone that was important to him in a matter of two years when in all reality, he should’ve been first to leave them all. The wolf inside of him was bound to kill him one day, and Remus was okay with that. He never thought he’d have to be the one grieving.

He would have rather taken the former option.

The feeling of Sirius’ cool fingers intertwining between his own pulled Remus from his thoughts and he turned to the man beside him. Sirius smiled, albeit a bit brokenly, and gave Remus’ palm a squeeze. All the walls Remus seemed to have put up broke down in that moment and he fell to his knees, pulling Sirius down with him. It was as if all the emotions he had been holding in for the past sixteen years came flooding to the surface, making him crumble.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Sirius whispered, delicate fingers running over Remus’ scalp.

“I’m sorry,” Remus stuttered, because he was. God, was he sorry.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. It would never be fine. But Remus nodded anyway.

* * *

“I can’t remember our last kiss.”

Remus almost missed the quiet admittance of Sirius’ latest lost thought. Usually he sounded frustrated or sad whenever he talked to Remus about the things he couldn’t remember but now he almost sounded ashamed for forgetting such a thing. They were sitting on the back porch because Sirius was feeling too claustrophobic to be inside at the moment, gazing up at the night sky. Remus’ eyes would always find the moon while Sirius’ tended to linger on Regulus. Neither of them mentioned it, though.

“It was August. 1981. The 31st, I believe.” Remus said. He remembered it perfectly, the way it down poured that night, as if the universe knew what was about to come. “It was our last night together before Dumbledore sent me off…off with the werewolves.”

He took a breath to compose himself. It was the last good night before everything went to hell. The last good night the two of them had together before suspicion and paranoia drove them apart. Remus often wished he could go back to that night.

“We made love. You had left the window open and so the rain came in and chilled our skin, but we didn’t care. I just kept kissing you and you kept saying my name, like some sort of mantra or prayer. And afterwards we just laid there, arms wrapped around each other and legs intertwined. I didn’t want to let you go. I really didn’t. I wanted to…to run away with you that night. Just run away from it all. But I knew that we couldn’t. So, I just kept kissing you. Trying to memorize the way your lips felt on mine just...just in case.”

The silence between them seemed to stretch on for ages after Remus finished speaking. It was a lot to say, a lot of emotions to unpack. Remus was never good at talking about his emotions, but Sirius deserved this. He deserved to remember how much they meant to one another, no matter how much it hurt now.

“Remus?”

“Yes, Sirius?”

“I…will you kiss me?”

He finally turned to Sirius, who was looking at him sadly, silent tears streaming down his face. The moonlight illuminated his pale skin, offering an almost celestial glow on his broken appearance. Silver eyes that had long since turned to ash stared at Remus with such longing sorrow and the werewolf felt his heart break. Even though he was damaged, possibly beyond repair, he was still the most beautiful thing Remus had ever seen.

Remus nodded minutely and leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against Sirius’. It was soft at first, hesitant, but then Sirius surged forward, hands reaching up to cling onto the back of Remus’ neck and pulling him forward. Remus brought his own hands up to curl in long locks of dark hair that crowded Sirius’ face, urgent and desperate, holding on like he would be taken away from him again at any moment. He wouldn’t let it happen. This was everything, Sirius was everything.

They were together again. Despite the odds, despite fate, they had somehow found their way back to one another. And Remus was not going to let go.

They broke apart, hands still holding one another close, gasping for the same air and looking at each other like they used to, back when all that mattered was their love.

“Was that like how you remember?”

“Yes,” Remus gasped, and he smiled genuinely for the first time in years, “Exactly how I remember.”

[of-tatooine]

mercy. | chapter 8 - water

droplets can drown you in waves if you are not careful enough.

                                                       FALL

If you could count the nights when you had a good rest without worrying about someone killing you, you would only find less than a handful.

Sleep - probably the most basic and underrated necessity of mankind, at least before the world crumbled down with infected who did not need an ounce of rest to survive - they only cared about feasting on your blood and flesh. Over twenty years of running and hiding and killing in this sad shell of a world you were thrown into, you considered yourself extremely lucky to get a couple hours of shut-eye that eased your overworked muscles along with your mind.

And on the rare occasions when you could finally lay against whatever surface to sleep on - it never came easy. The remnants of demons engulfed in bad memories and blood haunted you, both in your slumber and awake. Closing your eyes and letting your mind succumb to the darkness brought horrors almost every single time, imaginary but almost physical visions that distracted you temporarily from the actual nightmare that had become your constant reality.

As you would toss, images of what life used to be like flooded in your being - your parents, family, loved ones. The comfort of your own home, the warm domain that belonged to you. How peaceful you had been, when you received love and support from both patients and friends alike, even amidst the stress that your choice of life bestowed upon you.

Nowadays the one thing you received from others were bullets, and if you were lucky enough, fists fueled by pure hatred and sheer will to survive. As if the wretched universe had been punishing you for all the lives you had taken, all the fingers you broke and the throats you slit all this time.

As you would turn, only things occupying your troubled mind would be the last sparks in irises before you took their lives, the croaking, sickening sounds of the infected as you beat them to death - photographs of memories passing through your mind were all you could see in your dreams. Remnants of memories from the restless days when the Fireflies would work you on triple shifts, bringing in newly infected, innocent human beings to operate on in the means of finding a cure, with you cutting through their freshly-dead brains.  

Maybe, you should not be so lucky to doze off ever-so-peacefully, your body tapping out to exertion as the fading rumble of the engine lulled you.

Maybe you deserved all the pain and agony you had been enduring for so damn long, and then some.

"Wake up."

With a breathy gasp, your eyes shot open, hand instinctively reaching out to the empty holster on your thigh, but your tense body eased down the leather of the passenger seat when your orbs met the bright green ones looking straight into your soul. It was a rare occasion for her to ever wake you up - usually during your patrols of watching over the pair of them, the everlasting nightmares would not keep you in your restful slumber for too much, waking you up with loud gasps just like the one that lingered on your lips then. Thus, a small wave of surprise coated your worn-out orbs as you pinched the bridge of your nose, in an attempt to get yourself together with a low sigh. Sitting up more upright, you could swear you had seen the little girl's mouth twitch in a slight grin.

She liked you - you had not given her reason not to as you trailed along for the small portion of her quest, yet. Despite her reluctance and her childish swings of curses towards you in the beginnings of your acquaintance, it was a hopeful thought of yours that she had grown to be more tolerant towards your presence around the duo. After all, she had been old and mature enough to understand that you were there only for the means of her protection - not much else.

"He said this is as far as the car's gonna take us. Come on, let's get a move on," she would simply respond to you, her shoulder moving to adjust the backpack she carried, her voice echoing the inherent young innocence with a certain hardened vibration to it. Her little hands held the door open slightly, impatiently waiting for you to get up from your seat to which you had grown overly comfortable in. With a short-lived huff, you would step out of the stable car, whose juice had presumably ran out, and only then could you take a better look at your surroundings.

The remaining days of warm summer had been long gone as you cruised along the interstate 80 for what seemed like a couple weeks now - only stopping to salvage some leftover gas in the abandoned vehicles and to rest during the night. The car being the most valuable possession to your group besides your precious lives, you took turns keeping watch without even exiting the pick-up, opting to pull over in some corner to spend the night. It had not been an easy task, those long hours of night with the revolver in your hands as it got progressively cooler into the early days of autumn, scared to death some stray infected horde was going to hear the residual cracks of the engine.

It did not help that a giant of a man had been sleeping mere feet further, and a little girl had been snoring in the back, while you would be wide awake tugging on your long sleeves - the cold breeze called for one of your old jackets in your backpack to resurface.  

Thus, as you breathed in the fresh air of pine trees mixed in with the lingering crisp smells of previous rainfall, it was more than a welcome change of scenery. Overgrown trees adorned with the greenest of leaves surrounded the sturdy geography, faint sounds of water hitting stone below, along with an old, sturdy steel-construction bridge above that has managed not to fall apart yet.

"Where is he?" you would ask, the slightest hint of concern in your voice, as your gaze wandered around the hilltop to spot your lost driver - to which Ellie extended her hand in the general direction of the bridge, the simple answer giving you some sort of unknown comfort. "Down near the river, though he'll probably leave you here if you don't move your ass soon."

Him leaving you alone with her had been a surprise on its own, and you would not even think twice about it if he left you there to rot if you kept her away from his sight for too long. A man that careful and powerful would never trust a mere stranger with his  daughter, that much you knew and understood - and it made you wonder what made him change his mind. A hint of a chuckle on your lips, you would shut the rusty car door with a nod and adjust your backpack on your clothed shoulders. "Alright then. Lead the way."

The leftover humid air after rain came in a nice harmony with the gray skies that covered you, the soggy grass under your feet with each step taken. With a huff, you hop down the slight hill to reach lower ground, where Joel supposedly waited for you two. Operating purely out of instinct at that point of the journey, which told you to take care of Ellie as tasked by the man, you would wait patiently and extend your arms up to help the little girl take the jump. "C'mon," you would say as one hand reached up for her to take, upon seeing the slight apprehension that hooded the green eyes of hers. With a sharp nod thrown your way, she took you up on the generosity, grasping onto your hand as she dropped down near you, thanking you with a little crooked smile.

Walking side by side with your pistol in your hands should you come across any danger, the sounds of flowing water gently licking the stone soothed you. Over in the near distance,  your eyes would spot the flannel-clad figure of your other companion over at the end of the current where the river turned into a thin waterfall - the rust-colored concrete remnants of a dam, who had no doubt seen better days. He seemed to have a pensive stare, with one hand positioned on his hip - you reckoned he had been looking for a way past it, scouting for different routes to safely venture through.

Just like how he was always looking for a way out, a way to keep going. A way to survive.

"Y'know," came the gentle voice of your smaller companion, snapping you out of your stare to focus on her yet her gaze was fixed on the man in front of you as you advanced towards him in unison. "You aren't that bad to be around, after all."

One of your eyebrows rose up ever-so-slightly in surprise of the subtle compliment, a faint smile on your lips. You thought you would never see the day when she would display any sort of friendliness towards you, given her demeanor the first time you woke up alongside the pair. Though you did not have a clear enough idea as to why she grew somewhat accustomed to having you around without taunting you every second, you would relish and appreciate the kind vocal gesture. It was not often someone feigned to appreciate your efforts - it introduced a long-forgotten warmth in your body to belong and be welcome somewhere.

It was a comforting thought to let her words sink in, knowing that the duo knew nothing about you - and it was better that way. Your daunting past did not need to play a role in how these people liked you, all they had cared about was if you had been good to them and their cause. That was all that mattered, it seemed, at least to the girl whose innocence had been scarred but not beyond recognition.

"Thanks, Ellie. Means a lot to me."

And with that, Joel would turn over to face you both, hearing the footsteps coming closer to him along with the echoes of conversation. His hardened face seemed to light up a bit upon seeing the girl by your side, walking in her pink-hued raincoat, and it only added to your surprise to see his expression only fade a little bit when his eyes were set on you - his simple gaze making you holster your weapon as it diverted to the revolver.

His usual alarmed stance that he had whenever he saw you too close for comfort towards the girl seemed to have winded down, his head nodding towards the general direction of the structure. "Seems like goin' past this is the only way. C'mon, Ellie," he would address to her, yet you understood it was directed to you as well, judging by the familiar lack of his words.

"Whoa, what's that?" Ellie asked him, as you followed their steps up the rusty stairs, the steel in the deepest brown color under your military boots. With a little grunt, Joel took on the role of explaining the best he could. "That there is a hydroelectric power plant. It - uh, uses the river's movement and turns it into electricity."

In a curious voice, came her follow-up. "How's it do that?"

"Look, I know what it is, I don't know how it does it."

It put a smile on your face to watch the interaction between them, giving you a sense of normality that belonged back to the time when parents would get tired of their kids' overflowing curiosity, which made you chuckle internally. You could only hope Joel did not see the soft look on your face - it did not make any sort of sense to let your guard down for him to see the concealed side of you, even after the relatively long journey you had accompanied them for.

"Alright, alright. How do we get across?"

Working as a team of three had some perks. With your injured thigh being close to recovery, it had been your task to get Ellie across the pool of water to reach the crank wheel that operated the small bridge - although you could not put a finger on why Joel wanted her to be carried on a pallet when she could have easily swam across the ledge. Maybe it had been his fatherly instincts coming in to protect the little girl, maybe he wanted to test you again - it could have been anything at this point.

Without questioning it further, your thin yet muscular arms would hold the pallet still and drag her to safety. With Joel taking care of the other wheel, you all walked by your own towards the higher ground at the end of the bridge - though you would feel Joel's watchful gaze over at you with every step you took, stumbling only a little.

It did put a smile on your face to see Ellie raise her hand up your way, expecting a high-five after the teamwork you all pulled through. The survivor inside of you got silenced by the loving heart of yours - droplets of water leaking from all over your body, you would give her one, causing her to mimic the smile on your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, due to him lingering just a couple steps behind as he leaned against the railing, Joel would watch the interaction with a certain warmth to his amber green eyes.

It would only take a couple minutes of Ellie complaining just how hungry she had been and Joel promising her some well-deserved food after you all holed up somewhere safe to come across the huge, threatening gates further accessorized with barbed wire all over, all tied to tall metal towers that had the old FEDRA signs plastered over them. The sight alone made you curse under your breath silently - the military base had never been a good sign to come across in the middle of a forest, and by the looks of the gates it had been nearly impenetrable, halting your last-known efforts to advance.

"Goddamn it," Joel would voice your thoughts as he approached the vast steel doors, two hands gripping onto the handles with such force it made him grunt and the metal to rattle - as you and Ellie exchanged worried glances, scouting out for another way through... maybe deeper through the endless rows of trees, you would be able to make it out -

That was when you heard the cocking of guns, safeties pulled down in threatening clicks as figures rose up above on the tower, with their reticules trained on you lot.

"Don't even think about reaching for your weapons, tell the girl to drop hers. Now."

The revolver you had swiftly pulled into your grasp was then shakily placed onto the dirt, motioning Ellie to follow your movements as you shot her a little nod, your jaw clenched and your heartbeat quickening in just an instant. You should have known making your way through was not going to be that easy - it all seemed to be too good to be true from the moment you were woken up in the car. Too quiet, too comfortable for your liking - you knew something would always go south whenever things started working just a little too much in your favor, and you thought that the inevitable came in the form of strangers shooting you for attempting to trespass their walls.

Oh, you would have been lucky if that was the case.

"We're just tryin' to make our way through," Joel would explain in a raised voice, his hands over his head as you and Ellie followed suit. Meanwhile, your gaze would roam over the faces staring daggers into you, trying to recognize any potential familiar ones in the process. Squinting your eyes as you looked over to the left side of the tower, your sights would find the blond hair hidden behind the sniper rifle, looking too shockingly familiar, yet he seemed to look at you with the same analyzing stare.  

"They're alright."

"What, you know these people?"

"I know him. He's my goddamn brother."

To say you had been dumbfounded would be an understatement, but the better years of surviving had taught you enough not to show that on your features. Your eyes diverted from the tough-looking woman behind yet another loaded sniper rifle to the man who stood behind creaking, now parted gates, weapon swung across his back, his gray blues lighting up at the sight of Joel.

Everything seemed to fall into place, making a knot in your stomach. So, he had been the one thing they were looking for all along, trailing you along with them to serve the cause, driving and killing across the country to reach a long lost brother. It was evident that Ellie had been just as surprised as you, her face a mix of emotions, no doubt marveling at their sudden luck, leaving you to marvel at your lack thereof.

Out of all people in the damned world to search for, it had to be him.

The twisting knot inside of you gave such discomfort and anxiety through your whole body that you could not even watch as the two brothers reunited in what seemed to be a peaceful hug - then those eyes turned to your form, widening as they recognized you now, sending Joel a stare as if he was asking why the hell you had been accompanying them to begin with. Joel, however, noticed the lingering meaning in his brother's look and turned over to you - eyebrows furrowed in that dangerous stance of his, just like he had approached anything that smelled of trouble. Yet, you knew better than to reach your revolver laying on the ground with this many guns, big and small, still pointed at you.

Though you were fairly certain that the bullets could not possibly give you more fright than the stares the two brothers bore into you. It made your blood go cold as the atmosphere shifted from the warmth the cordial union of brothers provided, to something akin to ice.

With a defeated sigh, you had realized there was no other way out.

"How you doin', Tommy?"

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Lost Hope (Favored Ones, Part 27.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: "Don’t go chasing waterfalls...” - TLC

For those who might not catch my drift: chasing waterfalls = chasing the reader.

Part summary: Coming terms with yourself is something that is important. It’s something that you need to do in order to become the better version of yourself. Abby almost finished the process of coming to terms with all the things that were happening around her, something else made her thirst for revenge wake up again.

A/N: This chapter is from A B B Y ‘ S  P O V. Be aware of that. I won’t be sorry for it, I learned to understand and to love Abby, even if I was against her when I played the game. Lev is an amazing character too. And now Mel is alive, there’s a possibility to change how Abby’s story will continue from this point.

Warnings: Depiction of torture, bone breaking, depiciton of blood and manslaughter, anxiety, rage, anger, a bit of fluff at the end.

Word count: 4.8 K

Tagging:   @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme @davnwillcome @pickleriiick @jodiereedus22 @gladiosamicitias @tamkashi @eternallyvenus @avengerssstuff @fangirl-inthe-us @avery-miller @mikah-writes @mad-hatter-98 @sadiaafrin99 @flavorishy @gabymiller

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

Seattle, day three - evening:

The sea seemed to be serene and calm at the time their boat had taken off, it was quiet and the breeze was cold. This peaceful feeling could be simply also affected by everything they've been through so far. Even from the proximity they currently were from the island, they could still see Haven slowly burning down to the ground. Sometimes, the woman operating the boat would swear that she could hear the people screaming and guns firing. It was just the ghost of the sacred place haunting her brain, yet it was still there.

Lev, for the first half of an hour on the sea, was clinging onto the jacket Abby landed him. Then, the serene and gentle moves of the ocean made him fall asleep. The boy was now pressed into the small area between Abby's ankles, napping before they'd be back to the aquarium. The kid must've been exhausted - both emotionally and physically. That kid, who was now safely laying there squeezed into the tightest space he shouldn't be even able to fit, had killed his mother in self-defense. That kid watched his sister being shot to pieces. And he made it even though the despair, pain, and exhaustion.

It was weird to know that now, they were safe. No-one was after them. And as soon as they'd hit the aquarium, Lev, Owen, and Mel were about to leave Seattle for good in the search for the fireflies of Santa Barbara. Owen was asking Abby to join them while Melanie, with all the, despise she carried inside, had told her that once she, her boyfriend, and that Scars kids will leave Seattle, she will never want to see her goddamned face again. But now, things could change and maybe, for Lev, Abby could leave too.

That night, she had seen her family and friends being killed in the passion of the fight. For those who kids, she stood up to the only everlasting authority she blindly followed for the last couple of years - and Isaac was now killed, his corpse was rotting somewhere on the Seraphites island and Abby hoped that his body would be eaten by some wild animals to end his life in the shame he deserved. The time of WLF was coming to a sure end.

Abby's problem with the situation was as follows: soldiers were seemingly remorse-less characters lead by their general, Isaac for this instance, who just did what they were told. And for the most part, it was true. Yet, honestly, nothing hit Abby as personally as walking through the Seraphite settlement, following Lev's sister around. She, and the other WLFs, were used to seeing the best out of the best, the best warriors the Scars were able to train. And this hit different. These weren't the soldiers anywhere in sight - these were women and children, even men and other farmers who were not trained in combat - innocent people who were barely able to protect themselves were massacred ever since the WLF attack was started. That wasn't right at all. The things WLF has done on the island were wrong in every way possible.

It was all based around the battle of Seattle, which was going on for years now with occasional pauses, of course. Neither of the sides were good or bad in the situation. It was just a matter of habit - one side attacked, the other attacked back. One side overstepped the boundaries, the other reacted to this. It was this way for more than five years. Seattle was in this war ever before the time Abby and her friends arrived. And for that, she had never seen the true meaning of peaceful time in the city.

Abby wasn't looking around - the only things she saw were the ones directly in front of her eyes. She wasn't able to look behind her orders, she never needed to think about what she was doing, she just did what she was told. Until the moment she entered Jackson - and until the moment she met Lev and Yara. Jackson was a wild experience on its own.

Their small family was broken way before Jackson - Owen and Mel were now dating. And given the history of Abby and Owen, he was seeing her less and less. The final nail in the coffin being Mel's pregnancy. Nora and Whitney were taking every mission they could just to avoid her, the hospital being the last place Abby would ever see them. This left Manny being the last friend who remained by her side after Jackson was done. In the last few days, they were brought together after a long time in one way or another, but all Abby could thank was a weird coincidence of chances.

And there, there were the two siblings Abby met on her journey - Yara and Lev. At the moment, Abby had anyone except Lev - Yara was shot and killed by Abby's people during their escape from the island. It didn't matter that Abby tried to tell everyone about the kids not being any kind of threat to their cause. But it didn't matter - Yara was shot. In answer, Abby shot back at Isaac. Now, he was dead for real. She heard one of the radio communications over the WLF channel. She had done everything for the boy. Abby quite literally had sacrificed her whole known world for a boy she barely knew.

Even though all of what happened, Abby felt that every turn she made during their way revealing over the last three days, that every word and every choice set her on the right path. Now, maybe, she could get on the boat with Lev, Mel, and Owen, setting on her way to find the Fireflies again.

There was still the whole 'hunt Joel Miller down' matter. Abby was aware of the loose threads and unfinished business there was. It felt very unsatisfying, knowing she will most likely never get her revenge on the man. Her brain accepted the information some time ago. There was no climax to the whole hunt started by a piece of information given to her by an old Firefly named Eugene. The last four years were coming in vain. Was it even worth it at that point? Her family was broken to pieces, she had a kid to protect and once Lev leaves with Mel and Owen, she won't probably have any use no more. Well, if that would happen, she would travel back to Jackson. She would try to find Joel again. And Abby knew that once the guards on the gates will see her in the distance, she will be dead in the next minute.

It was more or less about coming to terms with how things were now. Before the mission to Jackson, she was sure that her life is already over. And she was sure that the only thing having the power to start it again was the murder of Joel Miller. The revenge murder if you will. That opinion was changed the moment she accepted Lev and Yara as her people. These two were just kids. Fucking kids in this fucked up world. And when Abby could keep them safe, why wouldn't she keep them safe? Joel Miller killed her dad and this was something she couldn't come around - but even if the old man wasn't dead, Abby tried to reconsider the things happening in the last few weeks, more importantly over the last two days.

Now, she wasn't out solely to revenge her father. She now had someone to protect. There was someone she needed to stay put for. It was a small family, it was sure as hell a broken one, but it was her family. No matter what Joel fucking Miller was doing, he was her last priority now. To be honest, Abby was just glad she's alive. And she'd be even more glad once she'll finally get out of Seattle - one way, on Owen's boat, or another, getting killed by the Jackson citizens. Abby was ready.

With the last remnants of her energy, she made sure the boat stays put before she started to wake Lev up. - “Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up.” - She whispered with a soft smile, nudging Lev’s shoulder as the boy started to massage his eyes. - “We’re at the aquarium. Come on. Let’s get dry.” - Abby arched her eyebrows, showing Lev another assuring smile. All she was trying to do was to keep Lev calm for now.

For sure, the boy will be freaking out for one way or another, but they didn’t have time for panic attacks at the moment. Slowly, they both walked back to the aquarium's back entrance, beaten up like two dogs. And Abby was fine with that. They were finally safe inside the building.

With a yawn, she was about to unlock the door leading to the improvised surgeon room, only to be met by the resistance of the wooden door, which never had happened before. Naturally, it piqued her interest. She tried to press harder, but it didn't lead anywhere. Mentioning for Lev to hide behind the corner, Abby started to smash her way inside. It took a few big blows with her shoulder before the door moved at least an inch. After a while, the barricade finally eased and fell on the ground. It was the damn ventilation shaft. Why in the hell had this fallen on the ground? Just as she furrowed upon thinking about the shaft, Lev noticed something else. His palm tugged Abby's top as his head motioned in the direction of a dead dog laying on the ground.

"Is that..." - Lev whispered with fear in his voice, walking closer to the animal. He was afraid of the WLF dogs ever since he had seen the first one. Why? These dogs were trained as weapons. WLF trained the animals to sniff unknown human scents, reacting to it in a matter of seconds - they tracked the enemies down, attacking immediately. And honestly, dogs were one of the most useful combat advances aside from grenades they had come up with. But when Lev became Mel and Owen's friend, as much as he became Abby's friend, they tried to show him that the dogs weren't just murderous animals. Alice, the German shepherd Mel was treasuring a lot, was laying there, stabbed to death.

"Yea." - Abby said simply, walking to the dog. Someone else was in the aquarium. Lev saw the act of Abby kneeling down to the dog as a goodbye ceremony. But this wasn't the situation in which Abby was showing her grief for the animal. Gently, she pulled her palm down under the dog's fur to feel the warmth of the body. To feel it a bit better, she closed her eyes, realizing that the body is almost cold. Whoever had infiltrated the aquarium was there a long time ago.

And given the dog was most likely stabbed to avoid attracting the attention of Mel and Owen, these two were in danger too. Abby gulped with her mouth dry, realizing that maybe, they arrived into the aquarium too late. Quietly, Abby tiptoed to the surgeon room, watching if the room is safe to enter before walking in to find herself some weapon. - "You stay behind me, okay?" - Abby looked the boy into his eyes, having a serious expression on her face.

"I want to help." - Lev rebelled against Abby's demand, but the woman just rolled her eyes. - "You will keep the watch over the perimeter with your bow. You see something we don't know, you hold them at gunpoint, you shoot, okay?" - Abby put her palm on the boy's shoulder, smoothing it. Yeah, he was good with a bow, and plus, she felt that he'll be safer behind her back. Nothing would get to Lev without it going through her first. With that, Lev felt some sort of usefulness, calming down.

Both of them took a second to adjust to the surroundings, peaking both their senses, preparing for whoever is awaiting them deeper inside the aquarium. When they felt ready, they moved to other rooms - they slowly searched every room. They walked through the improvised bedroom, the bathroom, some supply cabinets before they were about to enter the big room with a whale hanging from the ceiling. An iron, watery stench hit Abby's nose. It was a smell she knew perfectly - the cold smell of blood.

For a moment, she couldn't find the source. And she barely had the time to find it - because another human sped up against her, trying to take her down. Abby almost tried to stab the woman but stopped herself when she realized the woman's pregnant. The woman was Melanie. Mel who was pretty obviously freaked out. Abby stepped aside from the crying woman and pointed her palm towards Lev, letting him know that it's okay and that he should put his bow down.

One quick glance over was all to give Abby a bad gut feeling. Melanie was there, freaked out, tired out because of the hysteric crying. The gut feeling was telling Abby that she knows exactly from whom the blood stench is coming from. Yet at the moment, she had to deal with hysteric Melanie.

"It's me, hey, I'm here." - Abby tried to fidgeting, significantly smaller woman. But Melanie pushed her off while pointing her finger at Abby.

"Who the fuck you think you are?" - Melanie asked with her voice raspy from the crying, her widened eyes going from Lev to Abby and the other way around. - "This is on you, on both of you." - Mel straightened up. Abby didn't have any idea about what Melanie was talking about, but she straightened up, reminding the woman of her height.

"Every fucking time I hear 'Abby has a problem', I know it is going to bite me in my ass. And guess what, Abigail. This time, it bit everyone in the ass. Manny's dead, Nora's dead, Leah's dead, Whitney was murdered... And I can continue." - Melanie walked in a small circle, entwining her fingers in her short hair. - "Or did you get my point? Huh?" - Again, Mel pushed Abby. This time, she pushed her so hard, that Abby slipped and fell down.

"I don't know what you're talking about..." - "The whole fucking Jackson trip. That's what I'm talking about." - Melanie took in a deep breath. Lev had sat down a bit far away from them, just listening to their fight. On Abby's body language, there could be seen that her throat had clinched a bit. Jackson? How would all of this tie to Jackson? And... How could she fucking know that all of these people were killed? Sure, these people were in Jackson, but also could be just a coincidence. These people could be in a bad place at a bad time. That was all. The whole mystery.

"You were so focused on yourself that you ignored everything that was going on, weren't you? Am I even surprised?" - "Can you just fucking tell me what you're on about?" - Abby fired back, prooving Mel's point perfectly. She didn't even know that all of their friends were getting killed, she didn't know what was happening with her own fucking people. Funny. - "The girl from Jackson is here, taking out every last one of us. It's like waiting for her to check your name on the list while she stands above your corpse. And... And guess what, Abby, she's after you. And she isn't alone." - Melanie giggled. It wasn't an amused giggle. It was a sound full of despair and fear, it was a borderline cry for help.

"Why are you alive then? She's here for me, not for all the others. Maybe... Maybe she wasn't the one who killed the rest. Because you're alive, so..." - Just when Mel looked into her eyes, Abby connected the two dots. You spared Melanie's life because you took another one. At that, Abby's lungs stopped to work. She was gasping for air, turning on her side, when she saw the view hidden behind the table. She couldn't see Owen, she could see gallons of blood on the ground.

"And how do I know? She told me. She looked me dead in the eyes and told me she's here for you. And this, my dear, I think is your last stop. Because there are at least three people somewhere out there in Seattle, looking for you. And one of them is your man, Joel fucking Miller." - Melanie grinned and threw the map to Abby's legs. - "I took you a little souvenir so you can finish your suicidal mission once and for all. I'll take Lev with me and we're leaving. And you're... You're not welcomed." - Melanie hissed, looking at the boy. Abby was falling deeper and deeper into the initial shock, realizing that indeed, every word Melanie had said was true.

This was her fault. Everything was her fault. Which was pretty ironic, given the circumstances leading to this moment. Just an hour ago, Abby allowed herself to let the thing go. After four years of the rage eating her alive, she, for the first time, saw the hope around her. There was Lev for whom she wanted to do better than she was doing up to that point. Abby needed to be better for the new family she found. Just for this to happen, bringing the whole family dynamic to the ground. Joel Miller, once again, was the source of her problems.

"Mel, no, please." - Lev picked himself up, trying to plead for her taking Abby with them. But the more Abby watched the blood, the more she realized this wasn't a thing she could let go. It would find her anywhere. It would haunt her down any time. Melanie shook her head, telling Lev what she wanted to without words. - "Then I'm going with her." - Lev said and backed to Abby, who was still panicking and laying on the floor.

"You'll get yourself killed, kid. You're not going anywhere. End of the story." - Melanie told the boy and left to the upper quarters, slowly smoothing her belly. Lev was still standing there, watching as Abigail picker herself up, walking to the dead body. Shivers were running up her spine and cold sweat slowly leaked down her back. First, she saw the dried footprints in the blood and the pipe which was covered in not only blood but in the rest of what seemed to be Owen's brain. Trying to brace yourself for what she was about to see was dumb. At the moment she saw what that Jackson girl had done to him, Abby just threw up on the ground next to him. It was more or less only water, but there were things coming out of her. Melanie was right. This was all Abby's doing.

"That fucking bitch." - She muttered out, sitting on the other side, looking at the dead body. When they've captured you, you were sure one of the toughest nuts to crack. But if she'd suspect someone coming after her, it would be the Tommy man who they captured alongside you. Which happened. The Tommy man shot Manny in his face. But you? Such a fragile, scared girl? No. Abby would never suspect you'd be able to do such bullshit. She wouldn't ever think that there was a scenario in which you'd track her down, killing her friends one by one until you'd bump into her.

"Do you... Do you want to follow her?" - Lev asked silently, sitting next to her on the ground. It wasn't close enough to disrupt her personal space, but close enough to reassure her that he's there. Next to her, ready to go after the people he didn't know, fighting for a cause that didn't include him at all. Now, she was his people. In fact, she was everything that Lev was left with. And if Mel thought he'd leave Abby behind just like that, she was naïve, to say the least.

"This has nothing to do with you, kid." - "She, whoever she is, killed one of my friends. Now, it has something to do with me. I'm a part of this now." - Lev told Abby back with his head clear. This one kid was courageous. And ready for another battle. Of which Abby was hella sure. But even if she chuckled, looking down on her palms, she didn't want the kid to come. - "Listen. This... This is very personal to me. This is something that drags for the last couple of years. And it involves me, my family and something terrible. The only one who can put end to all of this is me. And I won't let you drag yourself into shit that doesn't involve you. I want you safe." - "Abby..." - "It makes me strong. You're my people now. Even Mel is... And I need to keep you both safe." - Abby whispered with tears of anger in her eyes, catching Lev's hand to hold it for a moment. She didn't know that Mel was standing above them, listening to every word that was said.

No matter what happened in the aquarium, no matter what the relationship she had with Abby and what she thought about her... This was everyone's cause now. Most importantly, you didn't seem to be the type to leave the things behind. Sure, now, you felt something resembling a closure after killing Owen. But how much time would pass before you'd feel the need to find Abby again? To find Mel and her baby? The time would come.

For that, it would be better to track you down when they had the chance, ending all of this for good. And even if Melanie hated Abby with everything she got now... Abby was right. Melanie was now her people - just like Abby was hers. No matter how she'd try to fight it, Mel didn't want to see the woman get killed because of the heat regarding Abby's stupidity. It didn't feel right to send Abby on a suicidal mission. This needed closure. Plus, honestly, Melanie needed Abby around once the baby would be born. She, the baby, and Lev needed a guardian. A literal watchdog.

"She's out of her mind." - Mel said silently, making both the people sitting on the ground looking up to her, standing in front of the quarters. - "I don't know what the girl was through, but she was off. It was like a blackout or something. She's dangerous. I'm terrified of her." - Mel said honestly, walking the stairs down. - "Can you go up and pack some things for me?" - Melanie smiled at Lev. Abby looked at the boy, sending him off upstairs. - "And you, come here. I don't wanna look at the..." - Melanie breathed out, still being shaken by what happened.

Mel wasn't over it at all, not a fucking chance. Her partner was brutally murdered. And she witnessed every second of it. Every. Fucking. Second. Yet... This world didn't offer them enough time to seek closure within themself, it didn't give them the time to grieve properly. Not until everything was said and done. Abby nodded at the pregnant woman's request, picking herself up from the ground.

"Listen." - Mel said quietly while leading Abby through the aquarium's interior. - "You're a fucking selfish asshole and dear Lord, I just want to punch you sometimes. And what happened between you and Owen at the boat last night peaked all of those feelings. But... How do you say it? Even if I didn't choose it voluntarily, you're now my people. That's something I have to deal with and it will take months, maybe years. But the fact is that I need you because I cant take care of myself out there once the baby will be born. This concludes in a fact - I can't let you get yourself killed while going after these people." - She stopped, looking Abby in the eyes. And with an expression showing gratefulness, Abby smiled back at her. - "We're not friends, at least not for now. Not a fucking a chance. But we're coming after them together because I'm scared of them coming back for us." - Melanie whispered. And without anything foreshadowing it, Abby hugged her, finally starting to cry into Mel's clothes.

There was too much pressure for Abby to handle - you and your people, Owen's death, Yara's murder, the whole conflict at the island proving to her as a bunch fo brainwashing lies which Isaac spoonfeed each of them, resolving in everyone's death. Melanie's cold honestly was something Abby needed bad. Melanie didn't like her, not at that point, and she was straightforward about it. At least someone was honest with Abby the whole fucking time.

"They will pay. Every last one of them. I swear." - Abby let Melanie go, carefully maneuvering her palms around Melanie's belly. - "That's the spirit." - Melanie grinned back. This was noticeably out of Mel's character. Abby honestly never seen her wishing death upon anyone except the Scars - which was excusable because the foundation in that behavior was based on Isaac's brainwashing program. Now, she was willingly after someone else, who was just a part of Abby's fuckery. Yet as Lev told Abby, this was now Melanie's cause too. The woman had the right to feel outraged towards the Jacksoners at that point. They killed her baby daddy.

No-one was left behind. Abby, after observing the map, knew the theatre which was marked as the 'hideout'. She knew precisely where the location was. Each of them set on the way during a stormy night, clothed up to stay warm against the stormy weather. Their way through the city was quick because no-one was really there. Everyone was on the island, fighting the dispute they've been told that is the main center of their existence. When Abby or Mel didn't know where to go, Lev showed them the safest way and otherwise. They kept an eye for each other and Mel was helped a lot, so they'd be sure that nothing happens to her or the baby.

It was two hours from the moment they've left the aquarium when Abby saw the theatre in the distance. It was lit up, so someone was definitely out there. The feeling she carried in her chest was fucking heavy. So fucking heavy. She wanted to shoot each of you dead, but on the other hand, she knew this could go extremely bad. Melanie was pregnant and Lev was just a fucking kid. And for a reason, now she found out there are reasons to be happy for even if she didn't murder Joel, it felt foolish to come there to kill you. It was too much of a risk. On the other hand, she promised Mel that she'd see you suffer for what you've done. There was no point in stopping.

"Now, we have to find our way inside." - Mel noted quietly upon arriving to the building. They've just tried the main door, gently, to find out if it was blocked. Of course, it was. You weren't that dumb. - "I think I have something." - Lev looked at both of them, waving at them. It was an escape staircase. That kid had eyes of the falcon because to spot it in the darkness was kind of amazing.

It was the final moment before the big climax Abby had dreamed of for so long. And she almost had to laugh at the pathetic thoughts she had. She was afraid to enter the building. Who knew what waited for them inside? Will any of them walk out of the building alive? Will any of these three people survive? Or will all of the Jacksoners be killed in bloodshed? Well, there was only one way to find out. And with that, Abby opened the window which was pre-opened by a bright yellow cable leading onto the rooftop. And so, she stepped on her final journey towards the presumed saving of her damned soul.

[networkingdefinition]

Hamsters Quotes

Official Website: Hamsters Quotes

• A squat cannot be performed on a Smith machine any more than it can be performed in a small closet with a hamster. – Mark Rippetoe • Adrenaline kicks you in when you’re starving. That’s what nobody understands. Except for being hungry and cold, most of the time I feel like I can do anything. It gives me superhuman powers of smell and hearing. I can see what people are thinking, stay two steps ahead of them. I do enough homework to stay off the radar. Every night I climb thousands of steps into the sky to make me so exhausted that when I fall into bed, I don’t notice Cassie. Then suddenly it’s morning and I leap on the hamster wheel and it starts all over again. – Laurie Halse Anderson • And then the turbines generate electricity that goes into the whole town.” “You mean they aren’t powered by giant hamsters on wheels? I was misinformed. – Michael Grant • At school, our classroom had a small rodent zoo consisting of two rabbits, three hamsters, a litter of baby gerbils and a guinea pig. At first, I’d thought the teacher was raising snack food, which impressed me, being the first sign of intelligence she’d shown. Soon, though, I’d figured out the animals’ true purpose and left them alone, though I would never understand the appeal of petting and coddling perfectly good food. – Kelley Armstrong

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• But I just felt at one point that I was on a hamster wheel, you know? Just doing movie after movie and thinking so much about career related things and I think missing out on hanging with my friends and family as much I needed to. – Woody Harrelson • DNS is kind of the hamster under the hood that drives the Internet. – David Ulevitch • Even as a child I was fascinated by death, not in a spiritual sense, but in an aesthetic one. A hamster or guinea pig would pass away, and, after burying the body, I’d dig it back up: over and over, until all that remained was a shoddy pelt. It earned me a certain reputation, especially when I moved on to other people’s pets. “Igor,” they called me. “Wicked, spooky.” But I think my interest was actually fairly common, at least among adolescent boys. At that age, death is something that happens only to animals and grandparents, and studying it is like a science project. – David Sedaris • Girls were nice to me in the same way that they would be nice to a hamster. I fantasized about wild encounters with females but knew they’d never happen unless my own involvement could somehow go undetected. – Joel Achenbach • Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup-they all die. So do we. – Robert Fulghum • Have you noticed how the Republicans and Democrats try to copy each other at their conventions. Like at the Democratic convention John Kerry’s daughter told a story about how he once gave CPR to her hamster. At the Republican convention the Bush girls are going to tell a story about how when their hamster was bad, their dad built them a little electric chair. – Jay Leno • Haven’t had your fill of interesting events?” “Never. They are the spice of life.” She held up her half-finished hat. “How do you like it?” “It’s nice. The blue is pretty. But what do the runes say?” “Raxacori-Oh, never mind. It wouldn’t mean a thing to you anyway. Safe travels to you and Saphira, Eragon. And remember to watch out for earwigs and wild hamsters. Ferocious things, wild hamsters.” – Christopher Paolini • He was not used to the smell of dragon breath, which is best described as a combination of the stench of burning rubber and the stink of old socks, with overtones of a hamster cage in dire need of a cleaning. – Angie Sage • I always find cardio the most monotonous. Running on a treadmill shows me why hamsters are so crazy. – Luke Evans • I always see to the dogs first and leave the cats and the occasional birds and rabbits and hamsters for later. It isn’t that I play favorites, it’s just that dogs are needier than other pets. Leave a dog alone for very long and it’ll start going a little nuts. Cats, on the other hand, try to give you the impression that they didn’t even notice you were gone. Oh, were you out? they’ll say, I didn’t notice. Then they’ll raise their tails to show you their little puckered anuses and walk away.- Blaize Clement • I can’t shut my brain off. It’s like a hamster wheel.” ~ Justin – Richelle Mead • I could keep trying to do the same kind of comedies. You know how it’s going to go, and you can get an audience with it, but then I feel like a hamster on a wheel. – Vince Vaughn • I do not mean to be the slightest bit critical of TV newspeople, who do a superb job, considering that they operate under severe time constraints and have the intellectual depth of hamsters. But TV news can only present the “bare bones” of a story; it takes a newspaper, with its capability to present vast amounts of information, to render the story truly boring. – Dave Barry • I don’t believe in happy endings. Children have got to face death sooner or later. Granny and Grandpa die, dogs die, cats die, gerbils and those frightful things – what are they called? – hamsters: all die like flies. So there’s no point avoiding it. – Raymond Briggs • I don’t believe in reincarnation, and I didn’t believe in it when I was a hamster. – Shane Richie • I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries. – Graham Chapman • I feel so agitated all the time, like a hamster in search of a wheel. – Carrie Fisher • I got ham but I’m not a Hamster – Bill Bailey • I know what the intimidation level of high school is. You’re on a hamster wheel, running, running, running, trying so hard to fit in. It’s all about how you deal with what you’re given, feeling OK with being the odd man out before you’re finally successful. – Drew Barrymore • I love running cross-country…You come up a hill and see two deer going, ‘What the hell is he doing?’ On a track I feel like a hamster. – Robin Williams • I love watching him think,” Maeve told Lily. “You can almost hear that poor little hamster running and running on its wheel. – Jim Butcher • I voted against Gerald Nabarro in my first general election, but my defiance made no difference. If you had put a Conservative rosette on a mustachioed hamster, it would have been elected. – Jeremy Paxman • If anybody felt worse than I did, it was Amos. I had just enough magic to turn myself into a falcon and him into a hamster (hey, I was rushed!) – Rick Riordan • If the sun were made of hamsters, the earth would be incinerated. – Michael Schumacher • I’m done with men. I have a hamster. That’s all I need. – Janet Evanovich • It’s fine to be on the hamster wheel, running and running, trying to grab the brass ring or whatever you define as success, but your relationships, that’s really all that matters when it’s all said and done. – Katie Couric • It’s for the hamster that I’m gonna buy! This is so perfect! (after opening a hamster wheel at Christmas) – Gerard Way • I’ve lived here … my whole life. It’s where I lost all my baby teeth. Where tiny hamster, gerbil, and bird skeletons lie in rotted-out cardboard coffins beneath the oak tree in our backyard. Also where, if some future archaeologist goes digging, they’ll find the remains of a plush toy: a gray terrier named Toto I buried after the accident. – Jennifer McMahon • Lissa knelt down, compassion on her face. I wasn’t surprised, since she’d always had a thing for animals. She’d lectured me for days after I’d instigated the infamous hamster-and-hermit-crab fight. I’d viewed the fight as a testing of worthy opponents. She’d seen it as animal cruelty. – Richelle Mead • Most of us are animal lovers. We insist that we love all animals equally – the hamster, the weasel, and the zebra – but if pressed, we will admit to being either a cat person or a dog person. – Nicole Hollander • New Rule: Gay marriage won’t lead to dog marriage. It is not a slippery slope to rampant inter-species coupling. When women got the right to vote, it didn’t lead to hamsters voting. No court has extended the equal protection clause to salmon. And for the record, all marriages are “same sex” marriages. You get married, and every night, it’s the same sex. – Bill Maher • No matter if you’re a man, woman, cat, hamster, you will get lost in Matt Bomer’s eyes. I don’t know what they are made of outside of dreams and rainbows and amazingness but it truly doesn’t matter. And when he sings. It’s like God gave with both hands and then grew a third hand and graced him with more. – Channing Tatum • One of my producers said this business is like a hamster on that little wheel thing that goes around and around. You may have a great day and get great ratings, but then you’ve got another show to do – whatever moment of success or happiness you have you’ve got to keep grinding it out for the next day. – Sean Hannity • Privately, I consider religion to be a load of bollocks, but when you have a sobbing five year old wanting to know what happened to her hamster, you develop an instant belief in anything that dissolves some of the heartbreak off her face. – Tana French • Some of my best friends are Venture Capitalists, but let’s face it, a hamster with Alzheimer’s could make those kind of numbers. It’s great work if you can get it. – Scott Adams • Some Poor grad student pressing on the flanks of a hamster and out comes a doctorate on the other side – Robert M. Sapolsky • Sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree, But it was eaten by a newt, And now I have no cuddly fruit, O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree! – Clive Barker • The hamster called. He wants his home back. – James Patterson • The Hamsters really kick ass – Slim is one of your greatest guitar players – Walter Trout • The kid makes you sick. He looks the part, he walks the part, he is the part. He’s six-foot something, fit as a flea, good-looking – he’s got to have something wrong with him….Hopefully he’s hung like a hamster! That would make us all feel better! – Cristiano Ronaldo • The real slums are another matter. The bad parts of Tondo are as bad as any place I’ve seen, ancient, filthy houses swarmed with the poor and stinking of sewage and trash. But there are worse parts – squatter areas where people live under cardboard, in shipping crates, behind tacked-up newspapers. Dad would march you straight to the basement with a hairbrush in his hand if he caught you keeping your hamster cage like this. – P. J. O’Rourke • The thing is, we have to let go of all blame, all attacking, all judging, to free our inner selves to attract what we say we want. Until we do, we are hamsters in a cage chasing our own tails and wondering why we aren’t getting the results we seek. – Joe Vitale • The wheels are turning, but the hamsters are all dead. Make it idiot-proof and someone will make a better idiot. I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig, you get dirty; and besides, the pig likes it. – George Bernard Shaw • The world’s tragedy is that men love women, women love children, and children love hamsters. – Joanna Trollope • We sometimes feel like hamsters on a wheel, covering the same musical ground we did 20 or more years ago. – Bent Saether • Well, I’m an uncle now … don’t know if I’m a good one. My nephew asked me the difference between a hamster and a gerbil and I told him I thought there was more dark meat on a gerbil. – Bobcat Goldthwait • What if hamsters fought in the American Revolution? – Colin Mochrie • While I liked hamsters, too, the Habitrail cage was expensive. Even I could see that the interconnecting boxes, tubes, and spheres could easily bankrupt a family and lead to addiction later in life. Because, how would you know when to stop? How could you stop? An entire city could be built with a Habitrail. – Augusten Burroughs • Why shouldn’t it be that way for the rest of us? Why not just go with it? Just walk the dog and send the tweets and eat the scones and play with the hamsters and ride the bicycles and watch the sunsets and stream the movies and never worry about any of it? I didn’t know it could be that easy. I didn’t know that until just now. That sounds good to me. – Joshua Ferris • With boys you always know where you stand. Right in the path of a hurricane. It’s all there. The fruit flies hovering over their waste can, the hamster trying to escape to cleaner air, the bedrooms decorated in Early Bus Station Restroom. – Erma Bombeck • Wondering where Ranger was now, when I needed him. Why wasn’t he here, insisting on locking me up in a safe house? Now that my hamster’s cage was clean, I’d be happy to oblige. – Janet Evanovich • Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. I’ve never met a Daimon yet I couldn’t take. (Wulf) Guess again, little brother. You just met one, and trust me, he’s not like any you’ve ever met before. He makes Desiderius look like a pet hamster. (Acheron) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You ignorant little slug!” the Trunchbull bellowed. “You witless weed! You empty-headed hamster! You stupid glob of glue! – Roald Dahl • Your Mother was A Hamster and you Father Smelled of elder berries. – John Cleese

  [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

  jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

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jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'y', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_y').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_y img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

[equitiesstocks]

Hamsters Quotes

Official Website: Hamsters Quotes

• A squat cannot be performed on a Smith machine any more than it can be performed in a small closet with a hamster. – Mark Rippetoe • Adrenaline kicks you in when you’re starving. That’s what nobody understands. Except for being hungry and cold, most of the time I feel like I can do anything. It gives me superhuman powers of smell and hearing. I can see what people are thinking, stay two steps ahead of them. I do enough homework to stay off the radar. Every night I climb thousands of steps into the sky to make me so exhausted that when I fall into bed, I don’t notice Cassie. Then suddenly it’s morning and I leap on the hamster wheel and it starts all over again. – Laurie Halse Anderson • And then the turbines generate electricity that goes into the whole town.” “You mean they aren’t powered by giant hamsters on wheels? I was misinformed. – Michael Grant • At school, our classroom had a small rodent zoo consisting of two rabbits, three hamsters, a litter of baby gerbils and a guinea pig. At first, I’d thought the teacher was raising snack food, which impressed me, being the first sign of intelligence she’d shown. Soon, though, I’d figured out the animals’ true purpose and left them alone, though I would never understand the appeal of petting and coddling perfectly good food. – Kelley Armstrong

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Hamster', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_hamster').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_hamster img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

• But I just felt at one point that I was on a hamster wheel, you know? Just doing movie after movie and thinking so much about career related things and I think missing out on hanging with my friends and family as much I needed to. – Woody Harrelson • DNS is kind of the hamster under the hood that drives the Internet. – David Ulevitch • Even as a child I was fascinated by death, not in a spiritual sense, but in an aesthetic one. A hamster or guinea pig would pass away, and, after burying the body, I’d dig it back up: over and over, until all that remained was a shoddy pelt. It earned me a certain reputation, especially when I moved on to other people’s pets. “Igor,” they called me. “Wicked, spooky.” But I think my interest was actually fairly common, at least among adolescent boys. At that age, death is something that happens only to animals and grandparents, and studying it is like a science project. – David Sedaris • Girls were nice to me in the same way that they would be nice to a hamster. I fantasized about wild encounters with females but knew they’d never happen unless my own involvement could somehow go undetected. – Joel Achenbach • Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup-they all die. So do we. – Robert Fulghum • Have you noticed how the Republicans and Democrats try to copy each other at their conventions. Like at the Democratic convention John Kerry’s daughter told a story about how he once gave CPR to her hamster. At the Republican convention the Bush girls are going to tell a story about how when their hamster was bad, their dad built them a little electric chair. – Jay Leno • Haven’t had your fill of interesting events?” “Never. They are the spice of life.” She held up her half-finished hat. “How do you like it?” “It’s nice. The blue is pretty. But what do the runes say?” “Raxacori-Oh, never mind. It wouldn’t mean a thing to you anyway. Safe travels to you and Saphira, Eragon. And remember to watch out for earwigs and wild hamsters. Ferocious things, wild hamsters.” – Christopher Paolini • He was not used to the smell of dragon breath, which is best described as a combination of the stench of burning rubber and the stink of old socks, with overtones of a hamster cage in dire need of a cleaning. – Angie Sage • I always find cardio the most monotonous. Running on a treadmill shows me why hamsters are so crazy. – Luke Evans • I always see to the dogs first and leave the cats and the occasional birds and rabbits and hamsters for later. It isn’t that I play favorites, it’s just that dogs are needier than other pets. Leave a dog alone for very long and it’ll start going a little nuts. Cats, on the other hand, try to give you the impression that they didn’t even notice you were gone. Oh, were you out? they’ll say, I didn’t notice. Then they’ll raise their tails to show you their little puckered anuses and walk away.- Blaize Clement • I can’t shut my brain off. It’s like a hamster wheel.” ~ Justin – Richelle Mead • I could keep trying to do the same kind of comedies. You know how it’s going to go, and you can get an audience with it, but then I feel like a hamster on a wheel. – Vince Vaughn • I do not mean to be the slightest bit critical of TV newspeople, who do a superb job, considering that they operate under severe time constraints and have the intellectual depth of hamsters. But TV news can only present the “bare bones” of a story; it takes a newspaper, with its capability to present vast amounts of information, to render the story truly boring. – Dave Barry • I don’t believe in happy endings. Children have got to face death sooner or later. Granny and Grandpa die, dogs die, cats die, gerbils and those frightful things – what are they called? – hamsters: all die like flies. So there’s no point avoiding it. – Raymond Briggs • I don’t believe in reincarnation, and I didn’t believe in it when I was a hamster. – Shane Richie • I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries. – Graham Chapman • I feel so agitated all the time, like a hamster in search of a wheel. – Carrie Fisher • I got ham but I’m not a Hamster – Bill Bailey • I know what the intimidation level of high school is. You’re on a hamster wheel, running, running, running, trying so hard to fit in. It’s all about how you deal with what you’re given, feeling OK with being the odd man out before you’re finally successful. – Drew Barrymore • I love running cross-country…You come up a hill and see two deer going, ‘What the hell is he doing?’ On a track I feel like a hamster. – Robin Williams • I love watching him think,” Maeve told Lily. “You can almost hear that poor little hamster running and running on its wheel. – Jim Butcher • I voted against Gerald Nabarro in my first general election, but my defiance made no difference. If you had put a Conservative rosette on a mustachioed hamster, it would have been elected. – Jeremy Paxman • If anybody felt worse than I did, it was Amos. I had just enough magic to turn myself into a falcon and him into a hamster (hey, I was rushed!) – Rick Riordan • If the sun were made of hamsters, the earth would be incinerated. – Michael Schumacher • I’m done with men. I have a hamster. That’s all I need. – Janet Evanovich • It’s fine to be on the hamster wheel, running and running, trying to grab the brass ring or whatever you define as success, but your relationships, that’s really all that matters when it’s all said and done. – Katie Couric • It’s for the hamster that I’m gonna buy! This is so perfect! (after opening a hamster wheel at Christmas) – Gerard Way • I’ve lived here … my whole life. It’s where I lost all my baby teeth. Where tiny hamster, gerbil, and bird skeletons lie in rotted-out cardboard coffins beneath the oak tree in our backyard. Also where, if some future archaeologist goes digging, they’ll find the remains of a plush toy: a gray terrier named Toto I buried after the accident. – Jennifer McMahon • Lissa knelt down, compassion on her face. I wasn’t surprised, since she’d always had a thing for animals. She’d lectured me for days after I’d instigated the infamous hamster-and-hermit-crab fight. I’d viewed the fight as a testing of worthy opponents. She’d seen it as animal cruelty. – Richelle Mead • Most of us are animal lovers. We insist that we love all animals equally – the hamster, the weasel, and the zebra – but if pressed, we will admit to being either a cat person or a dog person. – Nicole Hollander • New Rule: Gay marriage won’t lead to dog marriage. It is not a slippery slope to rampant inter-species coupling. When women got the right to vote, it didn’t lead to hamsters voting. No court has extended the equal protection clause to salmon. And for the record, all marriages are “same sex” marriages. You get married, and every night, it’s the same sex. – Bill Maher • No matter if you’re a man, woman, cat, hamster, you will get lost in Matt Bomer’s eyes. I don’t know what they are made of outside of dreams and rainbows and amazingness but it truly doesn’t matter. And when he sings. It’s like God gave with both hands and then grew a third hand and graced him with more. – Channing Tatum • One of my producers said this business is like a hamster on that little wheel thing that goes around and around. You may have a great day and get great ratings, but then you’ve got another show to do – whatever moment of success or happiness you have you’ve got to keep grinding it out for the next day. – Sean Hannity • Privately, I consider religion to be a load of bollocks, but when you have a sobbing five year old wanting to know what happened to her hamster, you develop an instant belief in anything that dissolves some of the heartbreak off her face. – Tana French • Some of my best friends are Venture Capitalists, but let’s face it, a hamster with Alzheimer’s could make those kind of numbers. It’s great work if you can get it. – Scott Adams • Some Poor grad student pressing on the flanks of a hamster and out comes a doctorate on the other side – Robert M. Sapolsky • Sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree, But it was eaten by a newt, And now I have no cuddly fruit, O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree! – Clive Barker • The hamster called. He wants his home back. – James Patterson • The Hamsters really kick ass – Slim is one of your greatest guitar players – Walter Trout • The kid makes you sick. He looks the part, he walks the part, he is the part. He’s six-foot something, fit as a flea, good-looking – he’s got to have something wrong with him….Hopefully he’s hung like a hamster! That would make us all feel better! – Cristiano Ronaldo • The real slums are another matter. The bad parts of Tondo are as bad as any place I’ve seen, ancient, filthy houses swarmed with the poor and stinking of sewage and trash. But there are worse parts – squatter areas where people live under cardboard, in shipping crates, behind tacked-up newspapers. Dad would march you straight to the basement with a hairbrush in his hand if he caught you keeping your hamster cage like this. – P. J. O’Rourke • The thing is, we have to let go of all blame, all attacking, all judging, to free our inner selves to attract what we say we want. Until we do, we are hamsters in a cage chasing our own tails and wondering why we aren’t getting the results we seek. – Joe Vitale • The wheels are turning, but the hamsters are all dead. Make it idiot-proof and someone will make a better idiot. I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig, you get dirty; and besides, the pig likes it. – George Bernard Shaw • The world’s tragedy is that men love women, women love children, and children love hamsters. – Joanna Trollope • We sometimes feel like hamsters on a wheel, covering the same musical ground we did 20 or more years ago. – Bent Saether • Well, I’m an uncle now … don’t know if I’m a good one. My nephew asked me the difference between a hamster and a gerbil and I told him I thought there was more dark meat on a gerbil. – Bobcat Goldthwait • What if hamsters fought in the American Revolution? – Colin Mochrie • While I liked hamsters, too, the Habitrail cage was expensive. Even I could see that the interconnecting boxes, tubes, and spheres could easily bankrupt a family and lead to addiction later in life. Because, how would you know when to stop? How could you stop? An entire city could be built with a Habitrail. – Augusten Burroughs • Why shouldn’t it be that way for the rest of us? Why not just go with it? Just walk the dog and send the tweets and eat the scones and play with the hamsters and ride the bicycles and watch the sunsets and stream the movies and never worry about any of it? I didn’t know it could be that easy. I didn’t know that until just now. That sounds good to me. – Joshua Ferris • With boys you always know where you stand. Right in the path of a hurricane. It’s all there. The fruit flies hovering over their waste can, the hamster trying to escape to cleaner air, the bedrooms decorated in Early Bus Station Restroom. – Erma Bombeck • Wondering where Ranger was now, when I needed him. Why wasn’t he here, insisting on locking me up in a safe house? Now that my hamster’s cage was clean, I’d be happy to oblige. – Janet Evanovich • Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. I’ve never met a Daimon yet I couldn’t take. (Wulf) Guess again, little brother. You just met one, and trust me, he’s not like any you’ve ever met before. He makes Desiderius look like a pet hamster. (Acheron) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You ignorant little slug!” the Trunchbull bellowed. “You witless weed! You empty-headed hamster! You stupid glob of glue! – Roald Dahl • Your Mother was A Hamster and you Father Smelled of elder berries. – John Cleese

  [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

  jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'y', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_y').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_y img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

[sugarcoated-lame]

oh my god 😵‍💫 @sebsxphia

if they don't make these mods official right NOW 😤