#tess tube

[adokle]

Just Vanessa, Lewis and his associates that Venessa would know in varying degrees while being under Lewis' guardianship.

---

Feat. a younger Vanessa Lewis (VF), Lewis (based on Lewis from Vanessa's backstory), Jeff B. (Beta character from VF1), and Tess Tube (Before the whole working for Robotnik thing.) And now Nio (VF season 2)

[tricolorhichew]

I like Test Tube but LOVE the heavily ooc Test Tube featured in my boarding school au.

[lillaydee]

In Time Part 4

Rancher Joel Miller / Reader

You lost your dear Uncle. Your TV Star boyfriend dumped you. You needed a job. You got one at a ranch in Wyoming. Where you met Joel. A very grumpy man. Grumpy man has issues.

WARNINGS:

Grumpy Joel, Hurt Joel, Grieving Joel, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Mentions of Hostage Situation and Shooting, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 3

---

***Warning*** Description of a hostage situation and gun violence ahead

You were shocked, to say the least. You knew her mother and Sarah had passed in the same tragedy but to say she was the reason Sarah died?

“Ellie… may I ask why you think that?”

“I don’t think it, I know it,” she said, so matter of fact in mannerism you felt bad for her. Was she fed this idea, or did she really believe this?

“What do you mean?”

“My mom and I used to live further up the road from the ranch, she was a teacher at my school. Like Penny. Usually, Penny would take Sarah to school with her and back, but that day, Penny had to take a student to the hospital. But Sarah had a riding lesson that day, so my mom offered to drop her off on our way back.” She lifted the pop tart dejectedly at you, and broke a small piece off, staring at it. “We ran out of pop tarts. And I really wanted some. So we stopped at the store to get them.”

Her voice quivered slightly at this, but then she took a deep breath and continued. “When those men asked us all to sit together, there was this lady who had trouble sitting, she had a cast on her leg, and a crutch. So my mom helped her. The men yelled at this lady to hurry up and sit down and my mom told them she’s trying, please don’t scare everyone like that. And they just shot my mom and the lady. Just like that. I screamed for my mom, I wanted to get to her, but Sarah held me back. And one of the men turned his gun on me, and Sarah pushed me to the side. I fell. She got shot instead.”

Tears were falling off her cheeks, but her face was stoic. You were doing everything you could not to sob, not to lose it. This girl saw her mother and her friend gunned down in succession. You pulled her into a tight hug, more to comfort yourself than her, if you’re being honest. You were so close to losing it.

When you let go, she smiled at you through her tears. “He’s just sad, and he needed someone to be mad at. It’s not fair. Parents should never bury their children. And he had to, because his little girl tried to save me, because we were in a store full of armed fugitives because I wanted pop tarts, and because I wouldn’t stay still when she asked me to.” She wiped her face with her hands. “It was a lot worse when Tess and Penny first took me in, he’s much better now. It’ll be okay,” she said, looking very much resigned to the situation.

“Ellie, sweetie, it’s not your fault. Bad things happen, and we have no control over them. Please don’t carry this on your shoulders. You’re too young, you should enjoy your childhood. And he definitely shouldn’t be treating you like that.”

“I know, Doc,” she said, smiling. “I am aware, I am seeing a therapist. I have accepted it. But Joel is having a hard time, and I think part of me accepting what happened includes letting him vent. He won’t hurt me. Trust me. He’s a good guy. Still is. He takes care of me in his own way. He just couldn’t bring himself to see me the way he used to. Sarah was like a big sister to me. I followed her around like a puppy. I guess, seeing me around reminds him Sarah is no longer here. He’ll come around. I believe that. I have to.”

You felt yourself liking this girl more and more. How was she this mature? At her age you were still sulking when Benny refused to get you a real tube of lipstick, convinced that he didn’t love you anymore. And here she was, still a chirpy 14-year-old, despite everything she had seen and had to carry.

The pop tarts laid cold and floppy on your plates. You asked Ellie if she was still hungry. She nodded. You told her you have just the thing – a secret recipe. But only special people got to eat them. And it must be offered, never asked for. Capisce? She nodded heartily, her face lighting up.

You went to your small kitchen and took out a sourdough. You asked her to cut two very thick slices while you got your jar of secret ingredient and some berries from the fridge. You slathered the secret ingredient all over both sides of the sourdough slices, and toasted them on a pan, slathering some more while they were toasting. Once done, you left them to cool a bit, cutting the bigger berries into smaller pieces, before squirting some whipped cream on the toasts, topped them off with the berries and drizzled some of the secret ingredient on top. You took one, and gave her the other one, ‘clinked’ them together and took a bite.

Ellie’s eyes closed in a daze of sweetness, saltiness, sourness, and bitterness that all came from the same bite.

“OWHMAGHAWD…” she spluttered; her eyes still closed. “MMHMMM…. Uhuh... uhuh… yeah…” She didn’t manage to get a word out until the whole thing was gone. You reacted the same way the first time Benny made them for you. She only managed to speak after she had licked her fingers and plate clean. She took a deep breath. “What was in that jar? THAT was definitely worth the tears. Oh. My. God!”

“Hu’uh. It’s a secret. My Uncle Benny used to make them for me whenever I was sad.”

“Well, your Uncle Benny was a genius. That would certainly shoo sadness away. Fucking hell…”

“Hey, language!”

She rolled her eyes at you, before looking at you in contemplation.

“You said that thing must be offered, never asked for.” You nodded, raising one eyebrow at her while she finished her thoughts. “What would happen if one asked for one of those?”

“Then they will be banned from ever eating one again. Forever.”

“God your accent made that word sounds so cool! Fo Evah!”

You smacked her with the dish towel playfully. The two of you hung out for the rest of the day. You walked her back home, and by the time you got back, you were glad you could make her laugh, even if it cost you most of your jar of secret ingredient.

---

Something shifted in Joel when you acted the way you did to him saying those things to Ellie. Tess, Penny, Tommy, Maria, Bill, Frank, his parents, had all said something to him every time they saw him treat Ellie that way, and yet he never took heed. But when you put yourself between him and Ellie, as if you were afraid that he was going to physically hurt her, something that had never even crossed his mind, it gave him pause. Did you think he was capable of something like that? And then there’s the way you looked at him. You, this stranger who had known Ellie for less than two days, spent a couple of hours at the most with her, saw him as a threat, and looked at him with such disappointment at the way he spoke to her, despite him not raising his voice at her. He felt judged. You didn’t think of him as a good guy. The thought of it made him crumble inside.  

See, the thing was, everyone had always chastised him for acting that way to Ellie, but they knew him inside out, even Ellie. They knew he was just venting, that he had issues, that he was hurting. They knew he wouldn’t hurt her. They knew he was a good guy. They loved him anyway. But you? You didn’t know him from Adam. All you saw was a jerk who was endlessly rude to you, and a bully who targeted a 14-year-old orphan. You definitely didn’t love him.

Did he want you to love him? He shouldn’t care, right?

But he did.

So, he headed for your cabin, determined to apologize, and make things better. But before he could even get on the deck, he heard Ellie’s voice from inside, telling you what happened that horrendous day. He’d heard this before, of course, but what he hadn’t heard, ever, was Ellie defending him to you. Telling you she understood why he was acting that way, that she didn’t think he was a bad guy.

That floored him.

Ellie, of all people, was defending him.

He had never felt so low.

He had tried to be less harsh with her, but it was like the attitude took over, like he was on cruise control. He often regretted saying the shit he said to her immediately but didn’t know how to shift to reverse. He told Tess this once.

“You don’t reverse, Joel. You shift back to neutral, and then start over.”

He heard you and Ellie laughing and joking around inside. He shouldn’t get in your way.

He’ll have to figure out how to start over.

---

About two weeks into your stay at the ranch, you picked up your ringing phone to the yelling of a very excited Ellie. Look outside Doc! Welcome to Wyoming!

It snowed. Everywhere you see, it was white. You felt like a child again. You had never seen this much snow in your life. Benny hated the cold. So your vacations had never involved snow. You were so excited you had to force yourself to calm down and get ready for work before you launched yourself outside like a loose cannon. Get ready for work. You could be excited for the snow later.

But by the time you got to your office, you had changed your mind about snow. You really were Benny’s niece. It had started snowing again by the time you finished getting ready and had breakfast, flurries of wet snow pelting you like tiny arrows as you walked the hundred yards to your office. You walked in with snow all over your clothes, your boots, your hair, your neck, and some even managed to get inside your clothes, despite you wrapping up. Your distaste for it must have shown, Frank laughing himself silly helping you brush everything off and immediately putting the kettle on for you. You had to buy one of those for the office since they only had a microwave, and microwaving water for a cup of tea was a sacrilege as far as you’re concerned.

“How many more days of snow do we have?”

“Erm, first day of snow. A few more months of this, honey.”

“Fuck.”

“It gets better. You get used to it.”

“Fuck that. I’m staying indoors until spring comes.”

Frank laughed, pouring the hot water into your thermal mug and placing your teabag in it for you. He had taken the liberty of learning just how you liked your tea, even making himself one sometimes, whenever he wanted to feel posh, he said. You had to order more tea since he had taken to stealing them from you to bring home. You hoped they would arrive soon. With how cold it was there you were running out fast.

You stayed indoors that day, doing paperwork and checking the inventory. Thank God no one called in for anything. You had no idea how you would fare on your first full snow day if you had to go outside. You were pretty cool headed and mellow, but once in a while, when your grumpy side showed up, you could rival The Miller Grumpus.

Who, by the way, you had managed to avoid for the most part. You had breakfast and dinner alone at home and had lunch with Maria and Tess or Frank and Bill. You didn’t ignore him, exactly, but didn’t seek him out, or engage with him – you didn’t need to. But there was one thing you noticed.

He hadn’t said anything rude to Ellie since that day at the stable.

Somehow, he had just… let her be. You were checking one of the horses one time, Ellie giving Shimmer some attention, when Joel rode back in with Callus. He didn’t say anything to Ellie, who had frozen in place when he rode in. He simply took his jacket off, and began untacking the stallion without saying anything, and left after. Ellie was so flabbergasted she had to ask you if you saw that – if that really happened. Even you were shocked. Bill just looked stumped. Frank asked you about it the next day as if it was a juicy piece of gossip. And maybe it was. This just in. Joel Miller wasn’t an asshole to Ellie.

Before you went home that day, you went to the woodshed, wanting to bring extra wood home in case it got really cold that night. Snow was still falling, although not as bad as it was that morning. You were too absorbed by your squelching boots and snow on your neck to notice it was Joel who was chopping firewood in the shed. Usually it was one of the younger lads doing that, or Bill. You placed your thermal mug on one of the wood stumps by the door, and walked in, grabbing the carrier off the hook to fill. When you finally realized it was him, it was because he stopped chopping when you came in.

It was like you saw him for the first time.

God, he looked good – his jacket was off, and he was covered in sweat, his flannel sticking to his rather well-built body. You wondered what that body would look like chopping wood. Would the muscles flex? As soon as that thought entered your mind, you were horrified. Oh God, did you really just think Mr. Grumpy looked good? You turned your back on him and started filling the carrier, feeling a bit flustered at the thought that he was just standing there staring at you as you did that. As you pulled the third or fourth piece of wood down from the stack, the wood shifted slightly and another piece fell, almost hitting you in the shin. You jumped back.

“Here, let me do that for you.”

He walked towards you to help, and wedged the heavy looking axe he was holding on a stump without looking at it, having done it a million times before, and a clanging sounded. You both turned around to look.

Your thermal mug was on the floor, an obvious cut on it, rendering it useless.

You picked it up, the lid smashed to bits, half of the mug was cloven, the axe firmly wedged on the stump where the mug once sat.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t see it there.”

You knew he didn’t do it on purpose. But your eyes filled with tears without you meaning them to be. You had used this mug since you were in your teens. Benny bought it for you. You had your morning tea in this mug with him. It travelled around the world with you.

“Amelia, I am so sorry, I’ll replace it. I’m so sorry. Please believe me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know it was there.” He sounded sincere, apologetic, horrified.

You gave him a small smile and said it’s okay, Mr Miller. I know you didn’t mean it. You picked up the pieces of the lid, and quickly walked back to the cabin, not wanting him to see you cry, the wood left forgotten in its carrier.

You kept the pieces. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of them. And the next time you went to town, you couldn’t bring yourself to replace it.

When you left to go to work the next day, you saw that someone had filled your wood box, and stacked a bunch of wood next to it.

---

One whole week of snow and you sort of saw what Frank meant about getting used to them. You didn’t mind them as much, although you wouldn’t call yourself a fan either. With Christmas coming in a week, Tess had asked you if you were going anywhere for the holidays. You said no. Nowhere to go, really. She asked if you were sure. You could come with her if you’d prefer. Everyone was leaving, it seemed, save for a few local workers, none of whom lived on site. She and Penny were taking Ellie to Penny’s family, Tommy and Maria to Maria’s family, Bill and Frank to Frank’s sister’s, Mrs Adler to her son’s, so you would be alone. You didn’t mind that, though, you said. Some quiet time would be nice.

“With Joel,” she finished.

Apparently, his parents and friends were going on a cruise for the holidays. So he would be here. On the property. With you. Alone.

You chose not to respond. You asked if she could take you to town, instead, so you could do some shopping since they would all be gone for a week or so. You didn’t have a car, and you really didn’t feel like asking Mr Grumpy to drive you to town in case you needed something.

Maria and Penny joined you on that trip to town. You had a list with you, but somehow you felt off. Like you had forgotten something. What was it? What did you forget to buy? It felt important. Lifesaving, it felt like. But for the life of you, you couldn’t think what it was you needed.

You noticed that Penny was shopping for groceries too, so you asked her if she was bringing groceries back to her family’s. No, she said, laughing slightly. These are for Joel. You cocked your head slightly, wondering why she had to do his shopping for him. What, you asked, he couldn’t do that himself?

“He hasn’t stepped foot in this store since the hostage situation.”

Shit. You felt like an ass. Of course. His daughter died here. You wouldn’t be comfortable coming back either. Idiot.

When you got back to the ranch, there were a few packages waiting for you at the office. One was your much needed tea, one was something you ordered for Ellie, and one huge package for the chow hall. You made Tess promise not to open it. You were all gathering the next night to exchange gifts before everyone left, and since you didn’t know anyone well enough to get them individual gifts, you decided to get something you thought everyone would enjoy together.

That night, the ladies invited you to join them and Frank for a drink at the local watering hole, The Tipsy Bison. You were merrily laughing with everyone, enjoying the live band, feeling like you belonged. They introduced you around, it seemed everyone knew everyone there. You hadn’t been there long when Tommy, Joel and Bill came in. Tommy and Bill joined your table, while Joel went to the bar.

A lady from the group at the next table approached him and said a friendly hello. They knew each other, it seemed. He didn’t look like he didn’t like her company, his face less grumpy than usual. You turned your attention back to the table when Tommy asked you something, but you couldn’t help yourself from diverting your eyes back to them. The lady stood closer and closer to him, eventually touching shoulders with him, and caressing his arm and thigh.

Tess and Maria noticed. They used to be a thing, they told you. Not a couple, but they hooked up a few times when Sarah was still a toddler. She got impatient with his lack of interest with commitment and married someone else. She’s freshly divorced now, they said.

Why they thought you would want to know this, you have no idea. No idea at all.

The lady returned to her table not long after. From what you could gather, he was just not interested. Not even for a hook up, for old time’s sake. They went on gossiping about him, wondering if he had someone already. No way, the lady said. That man didn’t do relationships. His life was for Sarah, and now that she’s gone, she thought he’d be interested, but apparently not. You didn’t see her face, obviously, since you were not actually paying attention to their discussion, but she didn’t sound too happy about his refusal.  

Not that you were listening to their conversation. Or interested, for that matter.

You got up to get yourself another drink. The bartender, Andy, apparently, had heard of you. You and Frank had helped his father’s horse with an infected wound a couple of weeks back, one of your first house calls. You chatted with him a little, asking him how the horse was doing, how his father was, and his grandma, you believe? The feisty lady who kept trying to feed you more cake? He laughed, nodding along, telling you about her antics, always with the belief that everyone was underfed. You spent a few minutes chatting and laughing with him before taking your drink and paying, which he declined. You pouted at him playfully and made a show of putting the money in his tip jar. Joel was staring at him, his face like thunder. Okay, Mr Grumpy was back. When you got back to your table, the ladies at the next table were staring at you, eyeing you up and down. You ignored them, used to being stared at for being a new face around here. You sat back down, took a sip, and settled to enjoy the live band’s next set.

Everyone at the table was staring at you.

“What?”

They all shook their heads, looking at one another, a sly smile on their faces. You took a chip and ate it and began swaying in your seat as the band played a song, singing along every now and again.

You didn’t notice Joel’s eyes on you.

Nor the soft expression on his face when he saw you sway and sing along.

Joel didn’t notice his family’s eyes on him, watching you.

---

Part 5

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: crimson red paint on my lips | part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Mean Smuggler!Joel Miller/Smuggler! Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel Miller is an asshole.

You should have known better than to show up at his door with your lips painted red.

Author’s Note: This is a considerably darker characterization than my other Joel fics. I’d be open to writing more like it, so let me know your thoughts! I’m also open to other requests 💕

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: explicit sexual content (18+), explicit language, mean mean mean Joel Miller, considerable age gap (25F and 56M), degradation, pet names (but mean), rough oral sex (m and f receiving), spitting, choking, crying, v fingering, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, begging, did i mention MEAN???, alcohol use, no aftercare. Let me know if any are missing!

You’ve been searching for more pills in a drugstore that had been well picked over, a wall blown out with glass and rubble everywhere, when you saw the little gold tube on the ground. At first, you thought it was a bullet casing. You’d seen plenty of those before.

But picking it up and dusting it off revealed a seam on the tube and when you pulled it, the top popped off to reveal the creamy red makeup inside.

At twenty-five, you spent most of your life in a QZ, but there are some things you have a hazy memory of from better days. Your mom, sitting at her makeup vanity as a five-year-old version of you looked up at her in awe as she swiped lipstick across her lips. Glossy magazine ads where the women had their mouths painted in a rainbow of shades.

You pocket the tube and continue on, eyes scanning every crevice for missed treasure. You do manage to find one bottle of oxycodone, a pretty big score.

You hear your name being called from the front of the store and you make your way back to the exit.

Joel Miller stands amongst the rubble, arms crossed and face frozen in his permanent scowl. Just the sight of him makes your heart skip a beat, and you know it shouldn’t. He’s much too old for you and just thinks of you as some dumb kid. He told Tess as much when she argued that you should come with them.

When you’re within arms reach, he wraps his broad hand around your bicep in a punishing grip. “Been callin’ for you. You need to pay attention.”

“Was just in the back, sorry,” you reply, wincing at the pinch of his fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“FEDRA agents, we gotta clear out.” He pokes his head around the corner of the building before slamming you back against the brick with his body, his hand slapping over your mouth to cut off your sound of surprise.

The front of his body is pressed tightly to yours and you stare up at him, eyes wide with fear. Heavy booted footsteps echo nearby, the tell tale sound of overconfident FEDRA agents that play gods amongst men. Joel brings a finger to his lips, a command to be quiet even though you can’t make a sound with his broad palm over your mouth.

His forehead tilts to yours as he reigns in his own labored breaths, his eyes falling shut. You shift against him, just slightly, surprised to feel a tell tale hardness pressing into your tummy. Your heart rate kicks up even higher, and it has nothing to do with your fear.

Joel’s jaw clenches and his eyes snap open, piercing you with a stare so cold it sends a shiver down your spine.

When Joel deems the area safe again, he rips his hand from your mouth, eyes dropping briefly to your lips before he turns and stomps away without another word, not bothering to make sure you’re following.

When the two of you meet up with Tess, you hand her the bottle of oxycodone.

“Excellent job, kiddo,” she says with a smile. “See, Joel? Told you she’d be worth it.”

He only grunts in reply, eyes fixed on the ground, and you feel your shoulders drop. You don’t know why, but you’re desperate to prove to him that you’re worthy.

Of what, you’re not sure.

You decide to keep the lipstick for yourself.

________

Joel nearly wanted to strangle Tess when she showed up with you standing at her shoulder. He knew the older woman had a soft spot for taking care of you and making sure you knew how to fend for yourself, ever since you’d turned up at the QZ as a transfer from another city five years ago, twenty-years old with the same haunted stare he recognizes in himself.

But all he can think about when he sees you is getting you on your knees or pressed beneath his body, the scent of sex and sound of your moans drowning out the atrocities beyond the walls of his shitty apartment.

He breaks out the whiskey he keeps for quieting the noise in his head, slamming back two shots of it in quick succession. There’s a tentative knock at his door and he stands with a groan.

Nothing could have prepared him to find you on the other side of the door, a low cut shirt and tight ass jeans holding in your curves. But perhaps the worst part is the crimson red paint on your lips.

He reaches out and grabs you by the shoulder, yanking you inside the apartment and slamming the door. You stumble slightly, surprised at the sudden rough movement, but Joel can’t find it in him to care.

“Are you fuckin’ stupid?” He snaps.

Your mouth drops open in surprise, your eyes wide as you struggle to find words to reply. He steps closer.

“You do know there’s monsters out there, right? Worse than runners, worse than clickers,” he snaps. “And don’t think any low life FEDRA agent would come runnin’ for help if you were screamin’ for it.”

“I-I don’t…I didn’t—“

He’s toe to toe with you now, like he can’t help but be sucked into your orbit. Your eyes are watery as you blink up at him and, god help his soul, he’s dying to see those tears run down your cheeks so he can chase their salty taste with his tongue.

“You didn’t what, sweetheart? Use that fuckin’ brain in your head to make a better decision than showin’ up on my doorstep painted like a goddamn whore?”

Your hand shoots up, aiming to land a slap across his cheek, but he sees it coming. He grabs your wrist, yanking at your arm until he’s got it pinned behind your back. He forces you forward until your cheek is pressed against the discolored wallpaper.

“Let me go,” you growl, struggling beneath him. “You think I’m so goddamn stupid, then let me leave, I’ll never bother you again you fuckin’ asshole.”

Joel laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “That’s where you’re wrong, darlin’. Because you’ll still be out there, lookin’ at me with those big innocent eyes of yours, beggin’ for attention.”

Your breath hitches, and he knows he’s struck a chord. He’s not dumb, he knows you’re desperate for his attention. He sees it in the way your shoulders drop when he walks by you without acknowledging you, or doesn’t include you in the conversation he’s having with Tess.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you snap.

“Oh, honey, I’d love to,” he teases. You go still beneath you. Slowly, he releases the hold he has on you, stepping back. You turn to face him. “Get on your knees. You want my attention so goddamn bad? Show me how much.”

________

Joel Miller is an asshole. You knew this, it’s been obvious in every encounter you’ve had with the older man, but you still showed up at his door.

He’s right. You are a fucking idiot.

But like the strings holding you up have been cut, you drop heavily to your knees, staring up at him for instruction. Your heart is beating out of your chest as he stares down at you with disdain.

“Take my cock out,” he commands. You bring unsteady hands to his belt, fumbling with the buckle. Finally, you free the clasp and rush to open his fly, tugging his jeans low enough to reach in and free his length from its denim confines.

You’re surprised to find it already so hard, the thick length already an angry dark red.

“Don’t just stare at it, princess. Open your mouth,” he says, hand gripping your jaw with bruising fingers as he forces your mouth open. “Tongue out.”

You stick your tongue out and he slaps the head of his cock on it, the action so lewd your face heats with a blush. He laughs, the sound cruel but your thighs clench regardless.

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he says, voice low. He slides further into your mouth and you open wider to accommodate him. “Look at those pretty red lips stretched tight around my cock.”

He begins to thrust, shallow at first, before he picks up the pace, the tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. He only pulls back slightly, barely enough for any relief before pressing forward again.

You can feel the tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. Joel withdraws from your mouth completely, allowing you the brief chance to heave in desperate gulps of air. He tilts your chin up and you look up at him from under tear filled lashes.

He drags a thumb from the corner of your eye, collecting the evidence of his harsh treatment and bringing it to his lips as his eyes stay locked with yours.

“You see that, baby?” He asks, nodding to his cock gripped in his hand. “See all that red on my cock? You did that with your little whore mouth.”

You can’t help the tiny whimper that claws its way out of your throat. He smiles, the visage wicked.

“Get on the couch.” You try to stand, but he halts your effort with a hand on your head. “I didn’t say you could stand.”

You blink at him, confused. He only lifts an eyebrow.

You shift forward, planting your hands in front of you, crawling slowly towards the couch. You can feel his eyes on your ass, the whole experience humiliating but you can feel the wetness soaking your panties.

You seat yourself on the couch, waiting for his next instruction. He kneels between your legs, hands finding the button of your jeans with a deftness you could never dream of having. He urges your hips off the cushions as he tears the denim and your panties down in one motion. Next, those confident fingers curl into the hem of your shirt and shove it up only enough to expose your breasts to his dark gaze.

He shifts closer, the broad expanse of his shoulders keeping your legs open as he uses his thumbs to spread your wet folds open to him. You can’t help but clench in anticipation.

“Look at your desperate little hole, clenchin’ around nothin’,” he teases. He purses his lips, spit landing on your heated core and making you arch in surprise, a moan leaving your lips. “Christ, you’re fuckin’ filthy.”

He drags a rough thumb over your clit in slow circles, the sensation all together too much and not enough. Then two of his fingers slide inside of you, a pinch of pain at the sudden intrusion making you whimper. He curls his fingers as he withdraws his hand.

“Joel,” you whisper, voice watery.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” he replies, repeating his motions, faster this time. Again and again his fingers slide into your body, skimming a part inside of you that turns you into a whimpering mess, writhing beneath him on the couch.

“Please, Joel,” you beg, voice louder with this plea.

“Please, what?”

“More,” you beg. A third finger, the stretch painful and glorious, slides into your heat. And as delicious as the filled feeling is, your clit is pulsing with need. “More,” you cry again.

“Don’t get greedy,” he snaps, punctuating his words with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“Want your mouth, Joel, please?” You beg again.

“What makes you think a desperate little slut deserves my mouth?” He asks. God, he sounds so fucking mean but it just makes you tighten around him.

“I’ve been good, Joel,” you say, voice small. You whimper at another harsh thrust of his fingers. “Please.”

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks the sensitive nub roughly. Combined with the scratch of his stubble on your inner thighs and the dark look in his eyes as he gazes up your body, the taut thread of your release snaps, you pussy fluttering around his fingers as he keeps up his rough pace until your hips are writhing from your overstimulation.

“Thought you said you were bein’ good,” Joel says as he sits back on his heels. “But good girls ask permission to cum.”

You feel your lower lip tremble slightly, eyes stinging with a fresh wave of tears. “I’m sorry.”

He stands, sitting down heavily on the couch, his cock slapping against his belly. He wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you like a rag doll until you’re in his lap, the warm heat of him sliding through your wetness making you shiver.

“Make me cum,” he says, smacking one of your ass cheeks roughly. “Now.”

You reach between your bodies, holding his cock steady as you position it at your entrance. You slide down with a gasp, the size of him still holding a bite of pain despite the way he’d worked your cunt.

“No more sittin’ still.”

________

Joel’s eyes are fixed where his body meets yours, watching the obscene slide of your tight cunt over his cock with rapt attention. You’re a goddamn mess all over, cheeks stained with tears and lipstick smudged across your lips and chin. Your slick skin slides against him when you grind down on him with a whimper.

“Faster,” he demands. Your hands grip his shoulders for stability as you pick up your pace, bouncing desperately on his dick. He slides a hand around your throat, squeezing the sides roughly. He can feel your pulse intensify against his fingers.

“That’s it, just like that,” he groans. “You sure make a pretty little toy, baby.”

He feels your moan against his hand, the sound music to his depraved mind as he begins to thrust up, meeting each of your downward movements with a harsh smack of his hips.

When he’s balancing on the edge of his release, he withdraws from your body, using that hold on your throat to keep you suspended over his lap, grabbing his cock in a punishing grip. He allows you to drop down onto his knees and you gasp, eyes wide as you look between your bodies and watch as he cums, hot and thick, across your lower belly.

You collapse against his chest, and Joel allows the brief contact while you catch your breath. After a moment, he taps your hip, urging you off of him.

When you’re sitting on the couch, he shoves himself back into his jeans before leaning down to grab your pants, tossing them to you. If you notice that your underwear is missing, you don’t say anything as you pull your pants on. He goes to the bathroom, coming back with a rag that you use to scrape his spend from your skin.

“Go fix yourself in the bathroom,” he says. Without a word, you do as he says, shutting the door with a quiet click.

While you’re in there, he finds a t-shirt of his and clutches it in a white knuckled grip while you do your business behind the closed door. When you emerge, face wiped clean and hair mostly in place, he shoves the shirt into your hands.

“Put that on.” You stare at the bundle in your hands, brow furrowed. “Now.”

You tug the large shirt over your head, slipping your arms through. It hits mid thigh and covers your tits.

Perfect.

“Get out. And don’t come back.”

________

The door shuts behind you, the click of the latch as loud as a gunshot in the hallway.

Joel Miller is an asshole.

And you shouldn’t have expected anything less.

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @liati2000 @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt

[jouste]

Tess Tube! The strange and mysterious specimen on level four has escaped and assumed the identity of a high level scientist! Using an all access security card, shards of glass, a full stomach, and prescription glasses, this organism is considered extremely sharp!

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 23

In the aftermath of the explosion, things are changing. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-22 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Depictions of injuries, mild violence. No use of Y/N. Whole fic is smutty and violent, Minors DNI.

Length: 3.5 k

The explosion knocked Joel off his feet. His head spun and his ears rang and his mind was singularly focused. 

It was akin to what it felt like the night of the outbreak. He got Tommy out of jail and shit went to hell. He raced home to find Sarah and then became singularly focused: get to you. 

Something on him hurt. He couldn’t really tell what, he was only vaguely aware of it and only that because it was making it hard to get to his feet. He was dizzy. It was hard to walk once he was standing. He caught sight of Tommy, backpack on his arm, far away. He looked at Joel for a moment and then ran. 

Get to you get to you get to you.

Everything was chaos but, for Joel, that was a benefit. There were no guards looking to stop him, nothing between him and you but rubble and bodies. Fuck, what if you were just a body… 

He fell to his knees when he reached you. 

Your eyes were closed, your body in an unnatural position on the ground. Your right arm was under rubble. There were little cuts peppered over your skin and a growing splotch of blood on your stomach. 

Joel didn’t know shit about medicine. He’d never learned first aid or any shit like that. All he knew was shit Tess told him to do when things went bad outside the QZ - shit he was sure you told her to begin with. He lifted your shirt, enough to see a hole in your stomach near your hipbone. 

Without meaning to, he remembered Sarah. There’d been nothing he could do for her, nothing. He’d only been able to hold her as she bled. 

It couldn’t be happening again. Not to you. Fuck, not to you.

He lowered his ear to your lips but he couldn’t hear you breathing. He took your left wrist and tried to find a pulse but couldn’t do it. 

“No,” he shook his head. “No, no, no, Baby you can’t…” 

He looked around, frantic. There had to be someone, anyone, someone who could do something. Joel spotted him then, Andrew at the edge of the scene, his eyes wide and a bag in his hand. There were other people with him, people who were vaguely familiar. 

“Andrew!” He screamed it. Your wrist was still in his hand, limp. Andrew spotted him quickly, frowning but moving for him. “Help me!” 

He wasn’t sure if Andrew saw you, if he realized the only thing left on this Earth that could make Joel this desperate was you but suddenly he was running, screaming over his shoulder and bringing someone else with him. 

“It’s OK Baby,” Joel’s hands moved to your face. It was almost like you were asleep. Your face was relaxed, peaceful. Like when he’d reach out and touch you in the morning when he woke.a few minutes before the alarm and spent the time just looking at you. “You’re going to be OK, you have to be OK…” 

“Jesus Christ,” Andrew fell to his knees beside him, looking at you with wide eyes. “You have to move, Miller…” 

Joel scrambled to obey, kneeling over your head, your face in his hands. A small woman he didn’t know almost immediately took his place, checking you over, her fingers pressing into your stomach and ribs. Wordlessly, she dove into the bag at her side and pulled out a scalpel and some tubing, cutting the tube down before plunging the blade in-between your ribs and forcing the tube in. Blood poured from you but you took a shaky breath, eyes still closed. 

“She’s got internal bleeding,” the woman said. “Blood was compressing her lung… We have to get her to the clinic now or she’s going to bleed out.” 

“Andrew!” Joel said, already reaching for the rubble covering your arm. The concrete and glass cut his hands but he didn’t care. Andrew scrambled around you and started pulling at the pile, too, until your arm was free. Joel didn’t hesitate. The second it was, he went for you, his arms sliding below your shoulders and knees, lifting you easily into his chest and started running with you. Andrew ran past him at one point, racing ahead to warn the clinic, apparently trusting Joel enough to get you there. 

When he got there, there was a gurney waiting, the one doctor who stayed behind ready to take you back. Joel kept moving with you but Andrew’s hand went over his shoulder, holding him back. 

“No,” he pulled himself away from him. “No, I’m staying with her, I can’t…”

“We’d be in the way,” Andrew said quietly. “It’s better for her if we stay out here.” 

He stood still, staring at the doors you’d disappeared through for a moment. He was covered in your blood, soaking in it and the feeling that he’d failed you again. If he’d held you tighter, closer, better for just a few seconds longer you’d have been further away. Scratched and bruised and shaken but fine. Instead, you were bleeding. 

“C’mon,” Andrew said, clamping a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. He led Joel to the waiting room and they sank into chairs. Joel glanced at the other man. 

“Shouldn’t you get back?” He asked. 

“I’d be useless,” Andrew shook his head, staring at the doors. “I’d miss shit, people’d get hurt. Can’t… if it’s her or Jess I can’t…” 

Joel nodded, looking at the door, too. 

He went back over it all in his head. Seeing you at first. It was always a shock to his system to see you when he wasn’t expecting it. His first instinct was always to go to you. Touch you, be beside you, forget just how much it hurt to be near you. He resisted it. It only took him seconds to regret it. 

The first explosion threw you forward and he was running for you before he’d really been aware of it, pulling you to your feet and trying to get you the fuck out of there. But he hadn’t held you tight enough and you’d gone back, like you had some kind of fucking death wish. 

He’d tried to get to you, he’d throw you over his goddamn shoulder and carry you out of there, he didn’t care. But he was stopped. First by FEDRA guards, who saw him trying to find a clear path to the building and all but tackled him, convinced he’d had something to do with the explosion. Then by Tess, who was doing everything she could to drag him away. He was still fighting to get to you when you emerged, helping someone out from the flames. 

If he’d just been close enough to you the first time. If he’d held you tighter, if he’d just thrown you over his fucking shoulder and dragged you away. If, if, if. 

He felt it when he held you, every time he held you. This drive to protect you, to keep you safe. It was like he was built for it, designed to make sure you were able to stay soft and kind so the world didn’t crush it out of you. But he kept failing at it. You were slipping out of his grip and he was never able to do the one thing it seemed he was made to do. 

More people were brought in, sometimes with a doctor or nurse, others with guards. The doctor who’d taken you back never emerged, though. That must be a good sign, he assumed. That he was still working on you. 

Joel had been sitting there for long enough that your blood on his clothes had started to dry. The hair on his arms were caught in it, pulling uncomfortably every time he moved, the little twinge sometimes the only thing reminding him that he was still alive. He was still watching the door when two FEDRA guards came in with another patient, leaving them with a nurse, when Joel heard them muttering as they left. 

“Fuckin’ Fireflies,” one muttered. “Not gonna stop blowing stuff up until shit in here is as bad as shit out there…” 

Joel’s fist clenched against his leg. He’d been so worried about you he hadn’t stopped to think what caused the fucking explosion to begin with. But Fireflies. The fucking Fireflies. The same group Tommy had been smuggling shit in for for years. They were the reason you were bleeding, the reason he’d almost had to watch you die. He ground his teeth. 

Your doctor came up from the back, looking exhausted. Both Joel and Andrew shot to their feet. 

“She’s going to be OK,” the man said. Andrew slumped against Joel in relief. Joel had to focus to stay on his feet. “She’s going to be recovering for a while. Her arm is broken, she had a lot of internal bleeding but we were able to save just about everything except part of her intestine that we patched, a lobe of her liver - which she’ll grow back over time - and her gallbladder which she can live without. All in all, she was very lucky. You got her here quickly, which made all the difference.” 

“Can we see her?” Joel asked quickly. 

“She’ll be unconscious for a bit yet,” the doctor said. “But yes, you can come back.” 

They followed him to your room. It was clear the clinic wasn’t used to this level of medical intervention. You were in an exam room that had been set up to keep you alive and the room was packed with equipment. Andrew took one side of the bed, Joel took the other. 

You looked pale but peaceful, the blood loss still washing you out. Joel wanted to kiss you, hold you, tell you not to worry about anything that he was going to take care of you. 

Instead, he took your hand. 

“You saved her,” Andrew said, looking down at you. Joel frowned. “If you hadn’t gotten her help so fast…” 

He watched you for another moment before looking to Joel. 

“I never thanked you,” he said. “For what you did to McCarthy. I couldn’t… He wouldn’t have paid with me. It would have been quick and clean. You gave him what he deserved.” 

Joel just nodded, still watching you. 

“Need to keep her safe,” Joel said. “Should have been there to do it before. Wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there before.” 

He still needed to keep you safe. Joel may not like FEDRA - fucking hated FEDRA really - but you worked for them. He couldn’t keep you safe if Fireflies were blowing up every goddamn FEDRA facility. It would only be a matter of time before they bombed the clinic, until they tried to kill you, too. 

He ground his teeth. 

“Stay with her,” he said. “I’ll be back.” 

Joel stalked out of your room and left the clinic, fists clenched, as he made his way to his apartment. 

Tommy was inside, pacing, his clothes covered in a thin layer of dust. 

“Joel,” he grabbed him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I was so fuckin’ worried…” 

“Did you do this?” He asked, his voice flat. Tommy stepped back from him. 

“Do what?” He asked. 

“Did you and your fuckin’ Fireflies blow up the goddamn building.” He said it through gritted teeth, straining to not hit him. 

He sighed. 

“Look, you might not agree with it - I don’t necessarily agree with it - but something has to give to make FEDRA…’ “I don’t give a fuck why you did it, Tommy!” Joel yelled. “You almost killed her!” 

His face fell, eyes going wide. 

“What?” He breathed. 

“She was there!” He shoved him back. “She was barely out of the building the first time, would have just been blown apart if she’d been just a few seconds later!” 

“But…” Tommy didn’t even move to defend himself. “She’s never… she should have been at the clinic… I asked her, earlier this week I asked her…” 

Joel shoved his brother again and he didn’t do anything to stop it. 

“She almost fucking bled to death in my arms, Tommy!” He shoved him again. “Almost had to watch her die, too, because your fuckin’ friends won’t be happy until everything’s blown apart!” 

He threw Tommy into the wall, holding him there with his arm in his neck. Tommy’s hands were up. 

“I swear, Joel, I’d never hurt her, you know I’d never hurt her…” 

“I trusted you!” Joel screamed. “Trusted you to look out for her and keep her safe and you almost blew her up!” 

He was panting for breath when he released Tommy from the wall. 

“Leave the Fireflies,” he said, voice calmer. “Turn them in.” 

Tommy shook his head. 

“I can’t do that, Joel,” he said quietly. “Someone has to put a stop to FEDRA, they’re out of control. I don’t want to hurt anyone but war comes at a cost…” 

“Then you need to get the fuck away from here,” Joel said. “Those are your fucking choices. If being in the goddamn Fireflies is that important you need to do it far from here. I will never forgive you if she dies because of you, Tommy. I will never forgive you.” 

“I wouldn’t…” he began but Joel cut him off. 

“How long you think it’ll be before they go after the doctors and the teachers, too?” He asked. 

“They wouldn’t…” Tommy shook his head. Joel pressed on. 

“They fuckin’ will,” he said. “They’ll go after everyone who has ties to FEDRA, even the good ones, you know they will. And she’ll be so busy tryin’ to fuckin’ save everyone that it’ll get her killed. Only goddamn reason it didn’t today was because I was there.” 

“Joel…” he said, but Joel cut him off. 

“Leave the Fireflies or get the fuck out of Boston, Tommy,” Joel said. “Because if she gets hurt at their fucking hand again, I will kill you. Won’t even feel bad about it. Decide what fuckin’ matters to you.” 

Joel stormed back to the clinic. He didn’t even stop to change out of the shirt that was covered in your blood. Jess was there with Andrew when he got back and he joined them, keeping sentry by your bedside until you woke up. 

***

Sunday, July 5, 2015 - Three Weeks Later

Folding laundry around your cast was a hassle. Doing a lot of things around your cast was a hassle. But it had to get done. 

Andrew and Jess had offered to help with everything, of course. They’d both been there when you woke up, as had Joel. It was almost strange, seeing Joel and Andrew in such a small space without trying to kill each other. 

“What…” you tried to talk, your mouth so dry it was hard to move. Joel had about jumped to his feet when you started talking, standing near your shoulder, his brown eyes running over you again and again, like he was waiting for something to go wrong. 

“There was an explosion,” Andrew said. “You had a fair bit of internal bleeding and a hemothorax, a concussion, a stomach laceration, your arm is broken…” 

You glanced down at your arm in its cast and frowned. 

“Joel saved you,” Jess said, smiling a little at the large man at your shoulder. Joel’s shirt was bloody. Your frown deepened. 

“Are you OK?” You asked, reaching the hand that wasn’t in a cast for him. 

“Fine,” he muttered. 

“That’s a lot of…” 

“All yours,” he said gruffly. 

“Oh.” You looked back to Andrew. “What about everyone else? How many dead? When is it, how long have I been here?” 

“You’ve been out of surgery about six hours,” he said. “But last count I heard was 37 dead.” 

You tried to remember the last thing that happened. You remembered flying through the air, the heat and the pressure and the sound. Just before, someone warning you that they hadn’t cut the gas line yet… His voice had been familiar. 

“Anyone we knew?” You asked. 

“Don’t have all the names yet,” Andrew said. “But your former student, Tim, wasn’t too far from you. He didn’t make it.” 

“Oh,” you said again, tears welling up before you could stop them. Tim. It had been his voice. Of course he’d have known about the gas. He worked in engineering as well as his duty as a guard, he built things. He liked science. He had a girlfriend he loved. He had a life that he’d made for himself here. And now he was gone. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You started trying to sit up. “There must still be a lot going on…” 

Andrew looked at Joel and the both gently held you down. 

“You’re healing,” Andrew said. “You just had a head injury and you lost a lot of blood. You’re not in any shape to be doing anything medical to anybody. You need to stay put.” 

They’d made you stay put for weeks. You were finally going back to work tomorrow, starting with just teaching this week and ramping up to teaching and the clinic the week after. You were ready for it, tired of sitting in your apartment and staring at the wall, feeling like you weren’t getting a damn thing done. 

It’s why you’d wanted to do your laundry yourself. Just to prove that you could. Even if folding it with your cast was a bitch. 

There was a knock at your door and you frowned. It was Tommy’s knock, you’d know it anywhere. 

He’d been avoiding you since you got hurt. You hadn’t seen him even once - a true oddity. You’d seen him at least once or twice a week since you’d become friends again, him always saying he wished he could see you more but accepting that he couldn’t because of your work schedule. You knew he had to be avoiding you on purpose. You opened the door. 

“Hey, Kid,” he half smiled at you. 

“Hey,” you smiled back. “What’s going on? Long time, no see…” 

“I know,” he said. “Mind if I come in? I won’t be long.” 

“Sure,” you frowned, stepping aside. He came in, looking around like he was memorizing your space. Your frown deepened. “What’s going on, Tommy?” 

“I’m leaving,” he said, turning to face you. 

“What?” You breathed. 

“Going out west, with the Fireflies,” he said. He sounded pained as he said it. 

“No,” you shook your head. “No, you can’t… That doesn’t… Tommy, your life is here…” 

“I know,” he nodded. “But I can do more out there, make a difference. Hopefully be a part of putting an end to all this.” 

“But…” you started to protest, but he cut you off. 

“Come with me.” 

“What?” You laughed after a second. 

“Come with me,” he said again. 

“Tommy…” 

“I know you don’t think you can love me,” he said. “But that’s OK, you don’t have to. We can just have fun together and we can do it out there, we can make a life that way. You’re my friend, you’re my best friend, and the lab out there… you can really do great work out there, I know you can.” 

“I can’t…” you breathed. He took your face in his hand, his fingers tangling in your hair. 

“Yes, you can,” he said. “I promise you, you can.” 

“My life is here…” you began but he cut you off. 

“You mean Joel is here,” he said. But you shook your head. 

“Andrew and Jess are here,” you said. “The clinic that I helped build is here. My students are here. I can help people here, Tommy, and I can do it right now. I don’t have to wait until I somehow manage to invent the impossible cure, I can make things better for people today. Right now. I can’t just leave, even if I’d want to just hang out with you for the rest of my life. I can’t just leave this place. This is where I belong right now. I have to stay.” 

His eyes searched yours, pleading and sad. But you stood firm. 

“When do you go?” You asked softly. 

“Next week,” he said. 

“Will I get to see you again?” You asked. He pressed his lips into a grim line. 

“I don’t think so, Sweetheart.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded. He pulled you close, pressing his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. 

“I’m going to miss you,” you breathed. “You have no idea how much.” 

“I’m going to miss you, too,” he pulled back from you, taking his hand from your face. “I should go. Lot of shit to get done before I leave.” 

You nodded, a lump in your throat. You held the door open for him as he left, watching him walk to the stairs at the end of the hall. He turned back to see you again, one last time, a bittersweet smile on his face. 

“Here’s lookin’ at you, Kid.” 

A/N: And so comes the Tommy split, the thing that forces him out west to begin with and makes it so he and Joel not talking makes just a smidge more sense IMO.

I hope you all enjoyed this entry! We're getting closer and closer to meeting Ellie and the trip across the country, just a few more plot points I want to set up first but it's coming.

I do have a taglist so if you're interested in being added, please let me know in the comments below.

Thank you as always for reading and letting me know your thoughts and feelings! I love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer

[pettyprocrastination]

Tess and Joel having their will-they-won’t-they going on until one day Joel walks in on you and Tess making out against the wall and goes ‘hey >:[ ’ because he’s secretly wanted Tess for a while and thought he was obvious wants to kiss her too

big thank you to @madhyanas and @thesadvampire for being my lovely readers and @alwaysbethewest for listening to my senseless rambles about this amazing woman

pairing: Tess Servopoulos x Fem!Reader

warnings: Mention of death, foul language, mention of violence because its TLOU lmao

____

Nostalgia was a deadly thing. 

Tess learned this when she began smuggling six months after outbreak day. 

Military bases were strict on what was allowed and what wasn't; everything vital- medicine, spare clothing, food- was kept under lock and key with the threat of execution if anybody even thought about taking it. 

It started out of desperation. Sneaking extra pills to the parents whose daughter couldn't speak two words without her body shaking with a wet, rasping cough, snagging formula for the fifteen year old who had to take care of her four month old brother because her parents got gunned down on outbreak night and she’s all he has left, an act of kindness because Tess-Theresa was somebody with a bleeding heart. 

But overtime, it began to dry out. 

People didn’t stop asking- God no, they relied on her. But as time went on she began to set up prices. You want extra rations? Sure. Drugs? That’s fine. But it won’t come for free. She doesn’t slip past the guards every other month and risk getting bitten for charity. 

There were others, of course. Who slipped from the shadows after every sanitation shift whispering promises of “I can get you good shit, I’m reliable” to those far too exhausted to question them before slipping ration cards into their pocket. 

Which she didn’t mind. The QZ was big enough for more than a few businesses to take place beneath the glazed over eyes of FEDRA. 

As time went on, it wasn’t the necessities that people wanted from her. They got themselves used to living half starved, eating whatever rations they could buy with their credits earned from burning bodies and cleaning up rubble from every Firefly attack the week before and washing it down with water that always tasted a little bit like iron. 

They began to ask for small things. Weird things. 

“Can you find this book for me?” “I had this toy as a little girl, and I want it for my son, you think you can get it? I’ll pay whatever you want.” 

Things that weren’t necessary. Unneeded to survive in a world where the threat of death- be it by public execution of feeling your own body  turn against you and meld into the fungal-fueled cannibalistic hive-mind you’ve been running from for the past twenty years. 

But people didn’t want to survive anymore. 

They wanted to live. 

Hobbies, trinkets, CDs that skip on the same song every time because your kid scratched it a few weeks back but you don’t bother with getting a new one. 

Domesticity became a drug that nobody could say they weren’t addicted to. 

Anything that could give them a shred of the normalcy that they once had and took for granted before the world began to consume itself alive, rot and all. 

That’s where you came in. 

Tess wasn’t sure how you did it. What routes you used or what nights you snuck out from the QZ only to return the next morning with only a few bruises and a bag full of oddities to show for it. 

She asked you once, after seeing you proudly display a stack of vintage playboys on your rickety dinner table that you claimed were already set up for a buyer. 

All you did was smile. 

“You’re gonna have to take me out to dinner first if you want me to spill all my dirty secrets.”

But there was an agreement. A sharing of stock and profits each week that came with an understanding. Protection in the shape of the shadow that followed her everywhere and hardly spoke whenever you were in the same room. 

That’s why, when she first found the aged tube of lipstick, she thought of you. 

It was essentially useless. Most likely years past its expiration date and its label was rubbed off through years of sitting in a building covered in rubble and dust that kept it hidden from wandering eyes until she found it on her latest run with Joel. 

Somebody would buy it. A overworked mother in the QZ who spent her days working in the sun and the rot of the sanitation zone before going back home to a husband that ached just the same but still held her in his arms because they were all they had left. She’d shell out her hard earned money because it would give her a moment of relief where she could pretend she was still a housewife with three rambunctious young boys and a husband that despite his hemming and hawing loved it when she kissed him goodbye each day before he left for work. 

When she hands it to you in a trade-off, off-handedly mentioning “maybe you can pawn this to somebody” after you trade her hunting equipment that's old enough to have gone dull but still sharp enough to be sought after, your eyes go wide and you snatch it from her hands. 

“No fucking way.”

 Tess watches the look of shock on your face melt into pure joy at the plastic tube you held like a trophy. Realization dawns on her and she nearly laughs at your reaction to something so small.  “You used this shit?” 

“Are you kidding me? This was my fucking staple! I had one in my car, my bag, and in my bathroom back home.” You turned over the small tube with a smile she hadn’t seen before. Not one of that smug confidence you always wore, but one that held memories of the life you once had. 

“Crazy how small stuff like this gets through the cracks, right?” 

“You should keep it.” 

She shouldn’t have said that. Tess doesn’t keep merchandise, she sells it. She scrapes everything for a profit that's written down in a notebook so she can keep track to know who shorted her so she can get even but God- something about that look of pure unadulterated joy on your face made her speak out of turn and suddenly you looked at her like she had grown a second head and her face felt hot. 

“Oh, god. No I- I couldn't, really.” You attempt to hand it back to her but she holds her hands up in surrender.

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. You had seen Tess send Joel out to scare those who ripper her off on bad deals countless times. Where he’d break their bones until they coughed up the money that was rightfully hers to the point where sometimes you’d look over your earnings in the dead of night just to make sure you didn’t have too much out of fear of the same happening to you someday.  

But she insists. A scarred hand pushes against yours and her eyes lock onto yours before skirting around the room. “Really-'' Her lips pull into a tight smile and the room feels tense, but maybe that was just you. She had that effect. “I don’t think anybody else would want something like this.” 

A lie. But one you accept nonetheless. 

You nod, fingers curling around the tip of red lipstick and feeling that smile, the type you can’t help, grow on your face again until it spreads to Tess and you're both smiling like schoolgirls that have shared a secret on the playground. 

“I uh. Thanks. I appreciate this.” 

Tess wonders what you were like before the outbreak. 

Were you always outgoing? The boisterous laugh that echoes in a crowded room and a smile that pulls people in even if they don’t want to. Did you wear this color- this deep crimson in the darkened corners of a restaurant while smiling at a stranger at the bar, pulling them closer until they are sitting next to you and offering to buy you another drink because they just can’t stop looking at you in that dress.

She imagines you putting it on in your bathroom mirror, back before the world began to eat itself alive. The counter of your sink is messy, but organized in a way that only makes sense to yourself. There’s a song playing from the hall and you absentmindedly sing-mumble the lyrics as you get ready for the day. A pet, maybe a dog- you seemed like the type, weaves between your legs and you reach down to scratch behind their ear before painting your lips red in the mirror. You’d pull back to check if any lines were out of place, running a finger along a smudge that dipped over your cupid's bow before pulling back and smiling at your reflection. 

There’s a small scar that begins at the side of your chin and swipes up to the corner of your lip. Has it always been there?

“You should put it on.” 

You whip your head towards her as if she has spoken another language. A silence settles over the two of you, she can hear the FEDRA guards outside shouting orders and the shuffling of feet from the floor above you both. 

It’s too close. She’s teetering over a line she hasn’t crossed with anybody, not even Joel. 

But where he holds her at arm's length, you welcome and challenge her further every time. 

“Really?” 

“Why not?” she shrugs. “It could be pretty.” 

Tess wonders if you were married. 

If there was somebody who wore your lipstick stains each night with a grumble as they wiped at their face, only further smearing your declaration of affection as you laughed by their side before kissing them again and again until they were rushing to unlock the front door and tug you inside behind them. Somebody you fell asleep with, curled under their arms and woke up to with bad breath and messy hair but you mumbled “g’morning” and kissed them just the same. 

Somebody you loved. 

Somebody you had a life with. 

Somebody you watched get ripped from your arms when the world turned to shit on September 26th, 2003. 

But none of it mattered, really. Who anybody was before the outbreak. Those people, the mothers and fathers, the soft spoken girlfriends and sweet neighbors who worked a 9 to 5 and went on date nights each saturday died when the cordyceps took over every body they found and the military gunned down each man, woman, and child in sight that couldn’t fit on base. 

“How do I look?” 

But she sees it- just for a moment. In your painted lips, ever so slightly smudged in the corner of your lips and the look in your eyes that makes her chest tighten in a way she hasn’t felt in years. 

Tess sees somebody she would have watched run the crosswalk on a saturday morning, a mess of hair and a crooked smile would just barely glance in her direction before vanishing into the crowd onto the sidewalk but would refuse to leave her mind for the rest of the day. 

When Joel returns to the apartment, he eats in silence as Tess tells him their next run will be in two weeks. Until then they have a stock of pills to sell and some additional supplies you handed off to last them for now. 

He says nothing about the faint red smudge on the corner of her mouth, nor the one peeking out from the collar of her shirt. 

[adriellej]

All I am is yours

Warnings: None really, except maybe a little description of being at a NICU in Denmark, don’t know if that could be upsetting for someone.

Pairings: Harry x Tess, besides that, none, just Harry appreciating his little daughter

Word Count: 1,1K+

A/N: Thanks to Sara I had this idea! I work at a NICU as a nurse, and honestly, I love it even when it’s tough to see them with all the tubes and cords attached to them.

GIF found on Google, all credit to the owner!

A little explanation on the medical words I use, and what we do for the babies. 

Feeding tubes: they all get feeding tubes because they are not strong enough to eat on their own. It goes through the nose and down into the stomach. They eat every 2-3 hours. We teach the parents to be able to give them food on their own during the day and evening - we take the night shift. 

CPAP: CPAP is short for a continuous positive air pressure machine. It’s connected to them through their nose, they have them on at all times, except for when we move them around sometimes. It unfolds their lungs by putting constant pressure into the lungs. They don’t necessarily all get this, but a lot of them do. 

Electrodes and Pulse Oximeter: The electrodes are three cords that we put on their chests in order to see their heart rate, it’s essentially a simplified EKG. A Pulse Oximeter is a cord that we wrap around one of their feet or hands. It measures the amount of oxygen (saturation) in their blood, and it can also measure the heart rate - therefore pulse. 

Skin to skin: So we don’t pick up premature babies like we do mature ones when they get upset. Usually not until they’re week 33-34, so we mostly put a heavy hand on them, to make it seem like they are still in the womb, it gives them comfort. We do condone skin to skin though! This part is very important to also give them comfort, get to know their parents, and help them grow and stay warm. They are also wrapped closely to give comfort.

I think that’s it, sorry it got a little long, I just wanted to make it a little easier for you to understand my work and what I’m talking about in this little piece.

---------------

Harry had barely slept for the past few days. The noise from the machines, the alarms going off, and the constant disturbance of people in their room kept him up. Tess was getting all the rest she could. She had just given birth to their beautiful daughter. The only thing was that Jesse decided to come out a little too early and be born prematurely - which caused them to be stuck in the hospital. 

He looked down at his daughter, the tubes and cords were making her seem even smaller than she already was. He put one of his hands over her tiny body, feeling her chest rise and fall. She stirred a little and stretched her arm up in the air, only for it to land on her cheek grabbing at the CPAP machine connected to her. A big smile slowly grew on Harry’s face as he took all of Jesse in. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up in his arms and hold her close, but he had to settle for a hand on her body. 

“You are my everything, Jesse Quick,” His heart fluttered at the sight of her. “All I am is yours to keep from now and till forever,” He smiled down at her. He looked over to his wife, who was using the time Jesse slept, to sleep on her own. She was sleeping so soundly, and Harry was overwhelmed with joy. He had so many feelings inside of him, so much love for these two. It was hard for him to contain himself, and it was hard for him to express himself, but Tess knew him. She knew how he felt, even when he didn’t.

There was a knock at the door prying his eyes away from his wife and daughter. 

“Oh, Harrison you are awake,” The nurse smiled at him as she walked over to them. “Last time I popped my head in you were all sound asleep,” She laughed and Harry gave her a smile back. 

“Yeah, her monitor started beeping. It woke me and I had to check on her and make sure she was okay,” He responded as a yawn threatened to break free. 

“Have you slept much during the night?” She asked as she started to unpack Jesse to take her temperature. Harry had become fond of their nurse. She had been there from the beginning and was in the delivery room when Jesse was born. 

“Not really,” He said, and the yawn he tried to hold back escaped. His body decided to emphasize he didn’t sleep at all. “But it’s okay Lily,” He continued quickly after seeing their nurse’s expression taken over by concern. 

“You do need your sleep, but now that you’re awake, do you want to change her and lay with her while she eats?” Lily asked as the thermometer started beeping. “She could use the warmth, she’s a little bit cold,” She continued as she looked at the temperature. 

“Yes, I would love to,” Harry quickly answered. He’d always choose time with Jesse over sleep. He could sleep when he got old. Lily stepped aside to let Harry take place before Jesse’s bed. He fumbled a little bit with the diaper, it was all so new to him. 

“Okay, so the diaper under her before you open the old and toss it,” Lily gave him a reassuring smile. “We wouldn’t want there to be a mess so we have to change the entire bed,” She laughed lowly, causing a chuckle to escape Harry’s lips. He lifted Jesse’s tiny body from under her hip to put the diaper under her. He took the small squares of cloth to clean her from the poop she had made. “Good, now if you lightly dap at her bottom you can close the diaper,” She guided him and he did as he was told. 

“Very good Harrison, you’re slowly getting the hang of it,” She praised him for his work. Harry felt foolish for not being better at it, and even more foolish for being so happy from her praise. He was a genius with 7 PhDs, but changing a diaper was difficult.  “Now if you take your shirt off and get settled in the bed, I’ll get her ready for you,” She gave him a big smile and Harry pulled his shirt over his head. 

He laid down in the bed and put some pillows under his arms, as Lily was starting to take Jesse off the monitor so she could move her a little easier. 

“I’m thinking we lay her on her stomach on you, helps her breathe a little easier and gives her more warmth from you,” Lily informed Harry as she moved Jesse towards Harry. Jesse was starting to get upset and made a bunch of noises. She slowly turned Jesse to lay on her side on Harry, laying her right cheek on his chest, before she turned her body to lay on her stomach. Her legs were curled up under her, and she quickly calmed down as she breathed calmly on his chest. 

“She’s starting to know your scent, and you for that matter,” She continued and gained a goofy smile from Harry. Lily started to swaddle Jesse with small blankets and a rolled-up cushion under her feet. “I know you’ll get really warm from this, but it’s the best to do for her,” She continued to inform Harry of what she was doing. It gave him a sense of understanding, why she did what she did for Jesse. “May I?” Lily gestured to take Harrison’s hand in hers to guide it over Jesse’s body. 

“Of course,” He smiled and let her. 

“The weight of your hand will give her some extra comfort,” Harry’s hand covered Jesse’s entire body, and he was yet again reminded how small she was. Lily put on the syringe that fit her feeding tube and checked for air in her stomach before pouring milk into the syringe. “Here you go, just call for me when you’re done,” She gave him the syringe in his free hand and left the room. 

Harry looked down on Jesse. Her lips were a little pursed from her cheek being squished by his chest. He could clearly hear her breathing from the machine. 

“I can’t wait to see you properly Jesse,” He sighed as he gave her something to eat. She started to lick into the air, her tongue popping out once in a while, causing him to chuckle at the adorable girl. He looked over at Tess, who was still sound asleep. “I can’t believe we made such a beautiful miracle, my love,” His hand leaned over to Tess’ hand and he squeezed it. 

“You’re going to love your mom. She’s quite amazing, caring and so very loving,” He whispered. “But you Jesse Quick, you are one of a kind,” A tear formed in the corner of his eye, his life was truly complete.

Tag list:

@hiddenwritingsintheworld, @sarawritestories, @brianllamawrites

[comicaurora]

I know it been a while but I've been percolating and here's my definitive head canon of the squad's hug qualities, in order:

Worst: Falst. Classic inaffectionate cat in that he thrashes and has claws

Erin: the second you spread yout arms he puts on the "mom, you're embarassing me in front the academics" face

Alinua: loves hugs deep down but decades of isolation have made her extremely nervous, being hugged by her is mostly awkward. Kind of a hug pillow princess

Kendal: doesn't fully experience the whole "physical affection" thing, so his hugs have a certain coldness to them. But it's the thought that counts, and it's good to know he's trying

Tess: full of heart but squeezes super hard. Leaves you feeling like a tube of toothpaste, but definitely a well appreciated tube of toothpaste.

Best: Dainix. "Nurse but for your emotions" is his nature and his dream job. A hug from this guy is somehwere between a cat in your lap and a weighted blanket. Similar emotional impact to the first 10 minutes of Up, in a 60th of the time. Cloth mother and wire mother rolled up into one. Hug so good you'll forgive your estranged father

"hug pillow princess" is the worst thing I've read this week

[stars-n-spice]

Some New Ocs! - WIP

Been wanting to make an Ocean's 11 inspired heist group and a clone squad based on a deck of cards for a while now and finally got to it, lol.

Introducing: Auro's 10 (Name pending) and Deck Squad!

I guess these are first-draft headshot designs for now. I don't know if they're concrete or anything, but I'm pretty satisfied with how they've turned out so far!

Also,, just now realizing that they're both groups consisting of 10 members AND they're like,, casino-themed. Lmao.

Anywho! Some miscellaneous information/lore about them (at least what I have so far) under the cut!

Auro's 10

Heist Group - their motto? be gay do crimes. Don't have an allegiance but they aren't exactly pleased with the Empire

Reluctant found family - forced to work together and gradually become used and fond of each other (they don't want to admit it though)

Danu Felis (he/him) - "The Leader" - Former Cathar Jedi - Based off Danny Ocean

Chae Oro (they/he) - "The Demo Expert" - Nautolan Mandalorian - Based off Rusty Ryan/Basher Tarr

Aure'yela Dava (she/her) - "The Financier" - Pantoran - Based off Rueben Tishkoff

Ishani Pazel (she/her) - "The Charmer" - Twi'lek - Based off Tess Ocean

Keox [Redacted] (she/her) - "The Pick-Pocket" - Human - Based off Linus Caldwell

Yobit (they/it) - "The Guy-in-the-chair" - Reprogrammed Super Tactical Droid - Based off Livingston Dell

Lucky (he/him) - "The Pilot" - Former clone pilot - Based off Turk & Virgil Malloy

Amon Lavull (he/they/she) - "The Inside Man" - Clawdite - Based off Frank Catton

Vatnuoi Djalu (they/them) - "The Greaseman" - Lasat - Based off Yen

Tacui Beno (he/him) - "The Muscle" - Dowutin - Based off Bruiser

Danu and Chae have a hate/love relationship - they do NOT get along but unfortunately they actually have impeccable chemistry (somehow) to the point where they can practically read each other's minds

Keox doesn't have a last name because she's an orphan that Chae forced Danu to let onto the team (he's still traumatized over losing his padawan)

Danu and Lucky don't get along because of Order 66 - however this is one-sided because Lucky has amnesia and has no recollection of it happening (his plane crashed during it and he sustained injuries as a result)

Deck Squad

Don't know their armor/battalion colors yet but as you can tell they're based off the cards in a deck (plus Uno + Wild Card)

Probably will deal with the number "52" since that's how many cards are in a deck - 52nd Battalion or something, idk

Probably specializes in recon/undercover missions or something idk - I'm just picturing them all dressed up in a casino

Queen (she/her) - Commander

King (he/him) - Also a Commander (idk if it works like that but bare with me)

Diamond (he/she) - ARC Trooper

Spade (he/him) - ARC Trooper

Club (he/him) - ARC Trooper

Ace (he/him) - Pilot

Wild Card (he/they) - Pilot

Uno (they/he) - Trooper

Jack (he/him) - Trooper

Joker (they/them) - Trooper

The Main Deck (Queen, King, Diamond, Spade, & Club) + The Special Deck (Ace, Wild Card, Uno, Jack, & Joker)

Space and Ace are tube twins!

Wild Card and Uno are also tube twins!

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Clouds - Wanda Maximoff x OC

warnings: strangers to lovers, paniked flyer, scared/comfort

word count: 4.1k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1451146701-clouds-bailey

vibe: “Ha ha,” She rolled her eyes playfully. “You brought this on yourself really, could’ve left me to suffer in silence the whole plane ride.” 

“And miss the chance to see that smile? I could never.” The red head cood as she tucked a stray hair behind Bailey’s ear, the soft touch sending sparks all over her body.

Masterlist

“How long is this flight again?” Bailey asked her sister over the phone as she dug through her purse for her kindle with shaking hands. 

“Seven hours,” her sister said between bossing around someone on the other end of the phone. “You would think it’s this florist's first wedding.” She scoffed. 

The silence was deafening when Bailey didn’t answer with something sarcastic or mean. 

“B,” Tess said, “did I mention how much I love you for doing this? I know how much flying scars you, but I really needed you this weekend. This wedding wouldn’t be the same without you.” 

Tess was marrying her fiance Josh in London where they met six years ago. And despite Bailey begging on her knees for them to get married in Toronto, closer to home, Tess wanted the romantic get away. 

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Tess encouraged. “And I stocked the wine bar for you in your hotel room.” 

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Bailey laughed a soft, nervous laugh. “I should go, the flight attendant keeps giving me dirty looks.” 

“I love you, try to relax. I’ll see you soon.” She cooed and ended the call. 

“Try to relax,” Bailey mocked with her head down. “Easier said than done when you’ve reached talking to yourself status…” she sighed and turned to look out the window. 

She made an exaggerated play of turning off her phone, mentally giving the stewardess the bird. She might be terrified but she was terrified with attitude.

Bailey settled back into her seat, fastening her seatbelt and wishing they were in the air already when she felt weight in the neighbouring  seat and a brush of pressure against her arm.

"I'm sorry, did I disturb you?" the red head smiled apologetically to her as she adjusted her position, "I forget how little space you actually get in these tin cans."

Bailey glanced over, her eyes meeting the most perfect shade of green she’s ever seen and almost stumbling over her words because of them. “Tin can?” She asked. 

The woman grinned and looked over at her. “That’s practically what these are.” She said gesturing to the plane. “Giant metal tubes with wings.” 

Unease filled Bailey’s stomach as the woman grinned. “Great.” Bailey whispered.

“Oh,” her seat-mate said, “you’re a nervous flyer. I’m sorry.” Her hand covered her mouth apologetically but her green eyes sparked with the hint of a smile. “Please feel free to ignore me.”

“It’s fine, honestly,” Bailey grimaced, swallowing past the knot of nausea and hoping her face wasn’t as green as she felt. “If I could have been anywhere else but here I would have been.”

She fiddled with the rings on her fingers nervously, twisting one way and the other in hopes that it would soothe her some. 

“I imagine you must have a pretty good reason to get out of your comfort zone then?” her neighbor asked, her voice laced in a curious tone. “I’m Wanda, by the way.” She added reaching a hand out towards Bailey. 

She reached a hand out in response and as soon as the red head’s hand closed around hers a sense of comfort hit her nerves. 

“Bailey,” she answered with awkward smile as she reluctantly pulled her hand back to her lap, “and yeah, its my sister’s wedding.” 

“Well I think it’s very sweet of you to get on a plane for her, Bailey.”

“It might be fuelled by more guilt over missing it than sweetness but,” Bailey offered the sarcasm up expecting Wanda to miss it. 

“At least it’s not because you’re in love with her fiancé?” Wanda raised an eyebrow. She was incredibly pretty and a rush of nervousness caught Bailey by the tongue. 

Is she flirting with me?

“He’s not my type,” Bailey said, hoping that she hadn’t read the room… plane…wrong. 

“Well then,” Wanda’s soft laughter filled the cabin and it blanketed the short circuiting nerves Bailey couldn’t control. “Lucky me.”

As the last passengers boarded and took their seats, Bailey smiled back, blushing slightly, feeling more calm than she had been in the days since she'd booked the flight.

Turning back to her kindle, (What? She didn't want to come across as desperate) she switched off whilst the cabin crew performed their safety ritual and the plane started taxiing to the runway.

The seatbelt signs lit and the Captain's voice filled the cabin as the plane's engines gained in momentum and volume.

Bailey felt her whole body tense, gripping her seat rests and closing her eyes. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..." she chanted under her breath.

Her eyes slid closed as she tried to suck in any air she could to keep herself calm but the cabin air was thick with pressure making it hard to do anything. Bailey felt soft fingers curl over her own as she breathed and a warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla wash over her as Wanda leaned in. "You gotta breathe Bailey," Wanda whispered. "We're almost up in the air." 

Bailey's eyes opened and flickered over to the woman with the beaming smile. 

"There she is." Wanda rasped, "Breathe in... and out... there you go."

“How thanks you do that…” Bailey stammered, flushing at Wanda’s tinkling giggle. “No. I mean….thanks. I don’t know how you managed to calm me down but you did.”

“Maybe I’m magic.” Wanda smiled, her nose crinkling sweetly as she wiggled her fingers in Bailey’s direction.

“You sure are something,” Bailey murmured in response, trying not to kick herself when she realised she’d uttered the words out loud.

“How about you let me buy you a drink to calm your nerves a little more?” Wanda nodded her head towards the back of the plane, where the hostess had begun her journey down the aisle with the drinks trolley.

“Oh, you don’t-” Bailey began, breath hitching in her throat as Wanda’s hand fell atop hers once more. 

“Please?” She whispered with a soft bat of her eyelashes that did nothing to coax the words out of Bailey’s brain which she was sure had finally short-circuited. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Whatever you want, really.” 

“Thank you, again.” Bailey smiled bashfully. 

Wanda smiled as she reached for the button to call the flight attendant, “Anytime, beautiful. We are gonna be together for a while here, if I can do at least one thing to make your flight even a little more bearable, I will.” 

She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks yet again at Wanda’s  compliment. What was this woman doing to her? It had rolled so naturally from her lips in that sweet voice almost like she’d called her that a thousand times before. 

“I’d like that,” She finally responded, a soft smile on her face as she settled back in her seat. 

Bailey watched Wanda flirt with the flight attendant, her smooth voice and pretty smile won a favor and the attendant was quick to bring them back two drinks. Their fingers brushed momentarily together as Bailey took her cup and pressed it to her lips. 

"Are these doubles?" Bailey could smell the whiskey brimming in the cup. "Are they even allowed to do that on a plane?"

"Probably not but uh..." Wanda peered over her shoulder to wave her fingers at the woman who had served us, "Amanda there was easily swayed."

"You're very good at making people feel comfortable," Bailey said, downing some of her drink and letting it warm her chest. 

"Are you comfortable now?" She asked her as she sipped on her own drink. 

"A little yeah, it's going to be a long seven hours though." Bailey admitted. 

"How about we play a game?" Wanda shifted in her seat and curled a leg up beneath her. "Twenty questions, first person to not answer one buys the next round?" 

"Alright," Bailey smiled, "Why are you going to London?" 

"Quick on the draw," Wanda laughed. "uh..."

She took a sip of her drink before turning back to Bailey, "it's a long story," she began. "and not one I can get into in a public place. Looks like the next round is on me." 

"Don't worry," Bailey replied.

"So," Wanda continued, "question two, what do you do?"

"As in?" Bailey prompted.

"Your choice," Wanda replied.

"Okay, well, I've just finished grad school, and I'm moving to Washington next month to start my job."

"Washington, DC?" Wanda asked. If Bailey wasn't mistaken there was a hint of hopeful in her tone.

She couldn't help the smile that formed on her face as she nodded. "Yeah, are you from there?" 

Wanda grinned over the edge of her cup. "Not from, but I frequent there often for work. Was that one of your questions?" 

Bailey laughed softly, "I guess so."

“Ok, my turn. Have you ever been to London before?” Wanda’s head tilted adorably as she waited for Bailey’s answer.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve got a fair bit of time after the wedding though. I wanted to make the most of my trip so I thought to explore a little.”

“An excellent plan,” Wanda hummed agreeably. “I would have done the same.”

“How about you?” Bailey asked. “Is this your first visit to London?”

“Oh no,” the redhead smiled, reaching over to rest her fingers delicately on Bailey’s arm. “My brother lives there so I’ve stayed with him quite a few times.” She leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially, her closeness sending a thrill down Bailey’s spine. “I don’t much care for his wife though, so this time I rented a little apartment.”

"That would have been smart," Bailey scrunched her nose up. "I'm in a hotel downtown."

"Less cozy," Wanda noted, "Did something happen to you that made you so scared of flying?"

"Oh were getting into it now," Bailey laughed, a little uncomfortable. "No, never. I don't do very good in tight spaces, and being in one suspended in the air..." Heat flushed her cheeks as Wanda leaned across the arm rest to listen, her pretty face cupped carefully in her hand, laden with rings and red nail polish. "Do you and your brother get along?"

"We're twins, it's always been just me and him for as long as I can remember and we're mega close, and then he met his wife. She doesn't understand the connection we have, the way we can tell what the other is thinking just with a glance. So that's had a bit of an effect on our relationship. That and of course the fact that he's now relocated to London so she can be near her family." Wanda explained.

"I'm sorry," Bailey replied. "That must be so hard." She reached out and placed her hand on Wanda's. "What about your parents?"

A flicker of something sadder shines in Wanda's eyes for a moment before she recovers and smiles leaning back into the chair again. "We lost them when were were teens." The smile falters for a moment. Bailey's hand curls over Wanda's again and she offers her a soft smile. 

"I'm sorry."  She whispered. 

Wanda shook her head softly but still gave Bailey's hand a squeeze. "It was a long time ago." She sucked in a soft breath before regaining that same smile.

Bailey gestured to the passing hostess, indicating for a refill on their drinks, but she kept her attention on the attractive woman before her.

“Your turn,” she murmured with a soft smile.

“Ok,” Wanda said, her expression fond and a little grateful. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m a photographer,” Bailey replied. “Mainly architecture, but I stray into the realms of portraiture when I need to bolster the bank account.” She grinned and lifted up her hands, setting her fingers as if she were putting Wanda in the centre of a frame. “Just as I thought,” she hummed. “Pretty as a picture.”

"That whiskey is sinking in," Wanda laughed. 

"Do you like to read?" Bailey looked down at the forgotten kindle in her lap. 

"Do you consider dirty smut romance reading?" Wanda cheeks blushed. 

"I think I just fell in love," Bailey swooned. "Tell me everything."

"I can't give away my secrets just yet." Wanda winked. 

Bailey chuckled, "fair enough." She said running her hand over the kindle. "I don't think I could get through life without this thing attached to me." 

"Why's that?" Wanda asked looking over at her. 

"It's just nice to be able to hide away in a fantasy world sometimes." Bailey said softly, "to put a pause on real life for a few minutes or a few hours."

"I understand," The red head mused, reaching a hand to her lap, fingers hovering just above hers before she dragged a fingernail across her hand. "Reading has been a refuge for me as well many a times in my life. Especially soon after we lost our parents. Books and my brother are all I had left." 

Bailey turned her hand over and laced her fingers tentatively with Wanda's. Sparks lit up at her nerve endings when she closed their hands together with a smile. 

"Maybe we can give each other some reading recommendations some time?" The brunette asked. 

"I'd love that," She answered green eyes sparkling with hope, "and not just because that means you don't wanna forget me the minute we make it to that terminal."

"I don't think I could," Bailey smiled. 

"Who's question-" Wanda started but the plane jumped and whiskey spilled from their glasses onto their laps. 

Bailey's heart pounded in her chest as the plane leveled back out and she found her hand trapping Wanda's in a death grip. "I'm sorry," she apologized and pulled their hands apart. 

"Why don't we watch a movie? Take our minds off things, we can share headphones?" Wanda wiggled an ear bud at Bailey who nodded. "Alright, your pick."

She could feel Wanda’s gaze on her as she scrolled through the selections, shaking her head at the choice, flicking rapidly from one  to the next.

"What are you in the mood for?" Wanda asked, a clear effort to keep the brunette's mind on her. "There's usually something good on these flights. What about a comedy?" 

The plane lurched again as another gust of turbulence took hold of it. Bailey couldn't help the squeal that erupted from her lips. She felt all color drain from her face as her chest heaved harshly. 

She felt Wanda’s fingers curl into hers and closed her eyes, taking in a trembling breath. 

“You’re ok, we’re ok Bailey. Just breathe, I’ve got you.” Voice soft and calming just inches away from Bailey’s ear. 

“Just focus on your breathing, I’ll choose for us.” 

Bailey did just that as she willed herself to shut out any noise other than Wanda’s voice and focused on the soft brush of her thumb against her skin as she breathed.

Wanda picked a rom-com, Sleepless in Seattle and once it was going she turned her focus back on Bailey. "How you doing?" She asked in a soft voice and Bailey counted herself through each stuttered breath. 

"I hate planes," she laughed nervously but stopped when Wanda wound their hands together once again. "A little less with you around." 

"Don't flirt too much, it'll go to my head." Wanda joked and cuddled in tight to Bailey, settling the warmest feeling over her almost as if she had covered her in a blanket. "Have you ever seen this one?"

Bailey knew what Wanda was doing, distraction had never seemed to work before but when the red head looked at her like that, the world faded into a dull roar. It made Bailey feel invincible. 

"No never," she answered honestly. 

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Wanda feigned shock.

Bailey let out a breathy stuttering laugh, "book worm remember?" 

"Right," Wanda smiled softly, her eyes raking over Bailey's features. "You okay now?" 

She nodded and gave a small smile as Wanda leaned closer over the armrest, giving her hand a soft squeeze. "Y-yeah," Bailey stuttered out softly taking the headphone Wanda held out for her. "Thanks." 

"Anytime," Wanda whispered softly.

Once her breaths had calmed and her heartbeats had settled Bailey lifted Wanda’s arm, her hold on her hand unfaltering she reached her free hand under to lift the armrest completely. 

“Hey,” The red head whispered, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “you stole my move.” She finished with a smile. 

A giggle slipped through the brunette’s lips before she settled her head comfortably on her shoulder. Wanda leaned down a touch, reaching for the blanket tucked into the pocket of the seat in front of her and settled it over them before resting her cheek on Bailey’s head.

Sleep found Bailey easier than expected and when the stewardess gently shook them awake she had a soft, comforting smile on her face because of it. Wanda's hair was messy and her cheek was warm from where it had been rested on Bailey. 

"Oh I hope I didn't drool on you," Wanda said in the cutest sleepy voice as the stewardess set the food on their trays. It looked about as delicious as airplane food could but her stomach rumbled all the same. 

"My sweater is soaked," Bailey teased with a smile.

“Look at her she’s all comfortable and she’s got jokes now,” Wanda teased back. 

“Ha ha,” She rolled her eyes playfully. “You brought this on yourself really, could’ve left me to suffer in silence the whole plane ride.” 

“And miss the chance to see that smile? I could never.” The red head cood as she tucked a stray hair behind Bailey’s ear, the soft touch sending sparks all over her body.

Bailey indicated to the screen, "so yet another time I've not watched Sleepless in Seattle," she smiled. "Seems I'm destined never to watch it."

Wanda traced her thumb along Bailey's cheek, following the crease which had formed during her rest on the red head's shoulder. Bailey's breath hitched at the touch, her gaze drawn to her companion's and she realised she was biting her bottom lip.

"That's ok," Wanda murmured, "I'm sure we could find it if we get chance to Netflix and chill."

“I’m still not convinced I’d see the whole movie,” Bailey smirked slyly. “I think there’d be more chilling than actual Netflix.” 

It was Wanda’s turn to blush at Bailey’s obvious flirting and the brunette popped a bite of dubious-looking chicken casserole into her mouth to try and hide her satisfied grin.

The pair continued their conversation over their meals, with Wanda suggesting some restaurants and pubs that she thought Bailey might appreciate during her time in the UK.

“You know, though,” Wanda said, gesturing with her fork, “most of these places are far more enjoyable with company. It’s a shame you don’t know anyone over there other than  the bride-to-be…”

Bailey’s heart pounded a little faster in her chest at what she thought Wanda was trying to imply and her breath hitched as she waited for her to finish her sentence.

“Maybe our calendars will align and we could enjoy a glass of wine and some food?”

"Get me through the landing first?" Bailey asked and Wanda nodded. "If we survive, I'll buy you dinner."

"Sounds like a rigged bet," Wanda smiled as their trays were taken and the seatbelt light popped on. The warning to prepare for landing came over the cabin and Bailey exhaled a shaky breath. "Hold my hand?" She asked her. 

"If it'll make you feel safe," Bailey winked at her and linked their hands together as the plane dropped into a lower altitude. Bailey sucked in nervous breath and Wanda gave her hand a little squeeze. 

"Fish and Chips." Wanda said quietly, "highly underrated, that's where you can take me."

"So confident," Bailey said between soft murmurs of counting her breathing. 

"No ketchup though, vinegar on the chips."

"You don't like ketchup?" Bailey laughed nervously as the plane rumbled and the wheels dropped. 

"Can't stand it," Wanda smiled. Bailey knew that she was just trying to distract her from the way the plane swept through the air getting closer to the runway but it was working and each silly remark from her pouty lips was enough to make everything else in the cabin fade to nothing.

“Well now I’m terrified to know your feelings on Ranch.” Bailey laughed. 

Wanda squeezed her hand gently with a grin as the wheels hit tarmac. “Let’s save that conversation for the third date.” 

A bright shade of pink spread over Bailey’s cheeks. Her stomach flipped at the promise and Wanda’s ability to turn her from a shaky mess to a melting puddle with only a few words. “Third date?” She choked out. 

Wanda shrugged. “I’m being optimistic.” She winked.

"So far so good," Bailey smiled, "and it looks like we've failed to die so I owe you at least one date."

"Where are you staying?" Wanda asked. 

"Kensington," Bailey replied, "the wedding's at Fulham Palace so it made sense to stay somewhere close and central. The whole wedding party's booked in there for the big day on Saturday."

Wanda stood, passing Bailey her bag from the overhead locker before retrieving her own.

“A lovely part of London,” she nodded, looking impressed. “I’ve never been to Fulham Palace but I’m sure it’s going to look beautiful all decorated.”

Bailey gazed thoughtfully at Wanda, warring internally with herself before deciding to take the bull by the horns.

“Would you…would you like to see it in person? I have a plus one and…never mind. I know it’s lot to ask and we’ve only just met and-“

Her ramble was cut off by a gentle finger on her lips.

"I have the perfect outfit," Wanda smiled and Bailey felt it down into her toes. She couldn't believe she had even had the nerve to ask but she felt lighter for doing so. Wanda stood staring at her, eyes dancing around her face like she wanted to ask her something but they were pushed forward by the flow of the traffic and off the plane. 

Bailey lost her in the crowd as they entered the terminal and swore to herself when she realized she hadn't gotten her number. 

"Shit," she swore she could feel her heart breaking. She had really liked Wanda. She wandered around in a panicked circle, searching the crowd for a fleck of red hair or that pretty, tantalizing smile but came short. "There goes the girl of my dreams..." Bailey rolled her eyes, trying to compose herself as the disappointed emotions bubbled up. 

"What's wrong?" Wanda's voice floated over her and Bailey turned to see her standing the middle of the packed airport. 

That smile drowning out every other bit of noise around them, the bodies became blurred and the voices hushed as Wanda stared at her.

“Thought I lost you there for a second,” Bailey laughed shyly. 

“I’m not going anywhere love,” Wanda said, reaching for her free hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, I was promised a date and I’m not missing a chance to see those pretty eyes again.” 

Bailey smiled brightly as butterflies swarmed her insides and warmth flooded her body at her words. Her capacity to both calm her and make her blush astonished her. She never thought she’s be grateful for a being on a plane but she felt damn grateful now and if it was next to Wanda, she’d get on a thousand more because she knew she’d be okay. 

The sound of her sweet voice and gentle brush of her knuckles pulled her from her thoughts. 

“There you are,” she cooed, “Let’s go find a cab pretty girl, we gotta get you to your sister so I can whine about missing you and wanting to kiss you again.” 

“Again?” The brunette questioned in a whisper. 

“Can I?” Wanda answered, green-eyes glinting with desire as she bit the corner of her lip. 

Bailey had barely nodded before she pulled her flush to her and her lips found hers in a tender kiss. She felt her smile into the kiss and she all but melted against her as she hummed, “even sweeter than I’d imagined.” 

The brunette flushed, her lips still tingling from their kiss as Wanda led them through the sea of people. She was really gonna have to thank her sister for wanting a London wedding.

[bluejaybytes]

📦6, 16 🤝4, 10, 20 💓6, 14 for. molly.

6. What is something your character is proud to own?

Eyeliner Parker stole from Tess for her. None of them really own much because they have to smuggle everything they want in and it's been years since they've really had the chance, so the one (1) little tube of eyeliner Tess brought in for herself (Which Parker then promptly stole both to fuck with her and to give to Molly) is basically the only thing of note Molly actually owns for now. Tess willingly let her have it after it got revealed as having been stolen (All Molly knew was that Parker had it and was giving it to her, it's only later that Tess is gonna give Parker a firm punch in the arm for stealing her shit, before promptly telling Molly she can keep it)

16. Is your character willing to ask for things?

Yeah, but if she doesn't get a response or if it doesn't happen, she's not bringing it up again. She'll ask for something once and just hope the other person gets it for her, but if they don't, then she's 100% going to pretend like she never said anything. Doesn't want to be a burden, after all!

4. Is your character upfront about their feelings?

A good bit, but at her core she tends to very much be a people pleaser, so while she's open about her emotions, certainly a lot more than the people around her, she's not always willing to be upfront about them, especially if they're negative. She wants to be though, and she's trying to work on it!

10. Is there a habit your character has that they learned from someone else?

It's not necessarily any specific habit, but Parker's attitude absolutely rubbed off on her at least a little bit. Her willingness to cause trouble, while still very low, since she doesn't actually want to inconvenience people, is higher than it was before, and she's more willing to just look the other way when Parker is causing trouble. She would've looked away before, but the difference before was that she was a bit too timid to do anything, as opposed to now, where she's willingly let it happen. Also, skipping work. She keeps skipping work and it's entirely Parker's fault. Rest in peace Molly's notable work ethic

20. What would it take for your character to get into a fight?

A lot, but it's happened. Twice. Once in the direct aftermath of Parker's desertion, when one of the other soldiers is being shitty about it. They're being callous and cruel, saying how it's a good thing Parker ran off, because she was weighing down the entire camp anyways, and frankly Molly should've expected this, given her poor behavior and terrible attitude! To which Molly's response is to punch them square in the nose. She's literally JUST gotten dumped in the most cruel and heartbreaking fashion she can POSSIBLY IMAGINE and absolutely can not stand someone giving her shit for it. She's actively in grief over this she's not going to listen to someone imply she was stupid for ever having loved her.

The second time is... the same person. Doing basically the same thing. When all of the remaining soldiers left the outpost due to being overrun by sanitized soldiers, they, being led by Tess, had managed to board the Deepsea Metro, and while they were always somewhat suspect of it, felt like they had really no other choice, as it was the metro, or going back into the overrun sewers they just came from. However, things go very bad after not just one of the soldiers in their group leaves for a test and never comes back, but after the soldier Molly already had a problem with gets physical with the conductor, to which Tess has to intervene. They get extremely heated with Tess, accusing her of leading them all to their deaths, and that she's incompetent, unwilling to do what needs to be done, and the reason why one of their squadmates has almost certainly just died. And frankly, why did anyone expect any different of her? She's always been the lowest ranked elite, the only reason she's even here rather than missing like all the others is because they didn't trust her enough to not instantly die on the scouting missions they went on, and left her on babysitting duty instead! Hasn't she proven, time and time again, that she's incapable of true leadership, even from the beginning? Fuck, just look at who she associates herself with! The only people who ever willingly spent time with her weren't even the other elites, they were some fucking nurse and her old traitorous ex- to which Molly then promptly punches them in the nose for a second time. She was already beyond enraged that they were dragging Tess's name through the mud as is, but bringing up Parker again was the final straw, causing her to lash out once again.

...so really the answer is "bring up her ex to her face"

6. How well does your character act under pressure?

She's... mediocre. For as timid as she comes off, she's actually pretty okay in high pressure situations, albeit definitely not the best there is. As a medic, she's been trained to handle high pressure situations, so that's where her skill with them comes from, but still, functionally it's not a particular strong suit for her overall.

14. Is there a secret thing your character longs to hear?

The thing is is that what Molly thinks she wants to hear, she really just... doesn't. She wants to hear why Parker left her, why she'd break off a relationship of several years out of nowhere and never even mention how she'd been feeling in the weeks leading up to her desertion. But... even if Parker told her, would it matter? It's not going to change anything, and Molly is just functionally tormenting herself by mulling over it as a whole. Even when Parker does talk to her about it, as little as it is, telling her that she didn't leave because she didn't love her anymore, that she actually did still love her when she left, it doesn't make things better! It actively makes things worse! Hearing that Parker still loved her but her... whatever it was that made her so endlessly terrified that she couldn't bear to even talk to Molly about it just twists the knife even further, that clearly her version of love was always at odds with Parker's version of love.

[pedritomosquito]

Unmute (Ch 1)

Summary: Joel's journey to find Tommy is interrupted by a girl who needs help. A whole lot changes for both of them when she ends up tagging along.

Pairing: No Pairings, just Joel & Ellie

Word count: 3,339

Warnings: SA recovery, Ellie was SAed, canon-typical gun violence, Mute character

A/N: My first tlou fic! I live for Joel and Ellie. I wanted to watch how Ellie's character would grow into the one we know and love if she started off mute. Heed the warnings, loves! Have a safe read 🥰

Joel had no one. 

He swore to himself he would never get attached, that the world was different now and he couldn’t afford to. 

Yet Tess was gone. And hours later he found that Bill and Frank were too. 

If he swore he wasn’t attached, then why did he feel the void inside him growing?

The only thing left was getting to Tommy. He needed to believe Tommy was alive. It was naive and uncharacteristically optimistic of him to assume that nothing had happened to him; that his radio silence didn’t mean he was gone too. 

Joel had to believe Tommy was alive or the last part of himself that remained would die too. 

Now he had a car and a mission.

He’d driven through the night, wanting to put as many miles behind him as possible. Each hour he would pull over to fill the truck’s tank, bleary eyed as he cut through Bill’s supply. He’d only made it this far west of the Boston QZ a couple of times, but he knew his next stop would be a gas station on route 70. It was an interstate rest stop with enough abandoned cars and pumps to find some gas to siphon.

The gas pedal meeting the floorboard cued Joel to realize he fucked up. The truck was only rolling along at twenty miles per hour.

“Shit,” He muttered.

The quality of gasoline seemed to deteriorate by the day now and fuel gauges could never be trusted.

He pulled off of the road, coasting down the embankment and into the trees. He had enough momentum and fuel to drive just far enough into the woods, out of sight.

He hung his head, hands braced against the steering wheel. Maybe this was a sign. His eyes wandered to the rifle sitting beside him.

He exhaled the idea, shoving the door open instead. 

He’d passed a sign only a minute before that said the rest stop was seven miles away. That meant he was probably six miles away now and a two hour walk each way. 

Grabbing a backpack and slinging the strap of the rifle over his shoulder, he set off back towards the road with a gas can in hand. He trailed alongside the fractured pavement, staying hidden in the treeline. 

The gas station was just as he remembered it. One large building created its center with a food court and bathrooms. Sixteen gas pumps sat in clean rows of two outside. The overgrowth of weeds and vines had crawled further across the rooftop, fingers dipping into the boarded windows.

The pumps were long emptied, so Joel headed over to a derelict Nissan Pathfinder. Bigger car, bigger gas tank. He pried the metal cover off and unscrewed the gas cap. He pulled out the tubing from his backpack and threaded it into the tank. It came back wet with fuel. 

He was setting up the can next to him when a gunshot roared, whistling through the steel of the car.

“Fuck,” he darted behind the SUV for cover. He peered through the crosshairs of his rifle as two more bullets flew past him from different directions. He could just barely make out the barrel of a gun sitting in the gap between a couple of wood boards. He fired and was satisfied by the unmistakable sound of bullet finding flesh.

There was shouting inside and then a barrage of gunfire pelting the car, still from two different angles, one of them new. He calculated at least three men, one already down. He leaned out, firing at a shadow. Another hit.

A long moment of silence followed. A lone gunman finally replied with several shots. Joel couldn’t get an angle on him and ran for cover behind another car.

It was a clear and easy shot through an uncovered patch of a glass door.

The glass shattered and the man’s body hit the floor before the last shard had even fallen.

The quiet pause lasted this time and Joel carefully advanced toward the doors in smooth, long strides. He kicked open the door, sweeping his rifle over the room. 

Sets of tables and chairs were strewn about, some overturned. Moss leached along the cracks in the black and white floors, now coated in dirt. The bodies of the three men became fixtures, like they had already become part of the ground itself. 

Between a pair of toppled tables, he made out the toe of a green shoe. He tightened his grip. 

“Don’t you fucking move,” he warned, circling in a wide arc. 

His eyes landed on a naked girl under the table, tucked tightly in a ball. 

Sarah’s age. 

His grip faltered. 

She wore only torn remnants of a shirt and she desperately tried to cover the rest of herself with her hands. Her eyes were blown wide in terror, the dirt on her face streaked with tears. 

She looked him dead in the eye and gave him a tiny nod. 

Please. Do it.

His brow furrowed.  

“Are you bit?” He asked lowly. 

She shook her head. 

He eyed her suspiciously for a moment. He wanted to be distrustful–needed to be, really–but her fear was so genuine it was almost overwhelming. He averted his gun’s aim off to the side.

“Stand up,” He directed quietly.

She stayed frozen, her face beginning to crumple.

He followed her train of thought.

“No, no, I’m not–” He tried to explain but couldn’t find the words. “I just gotta see if you’re bit.”

She hesitantly unlaced her arms from around herself and emerged from betweens tables, getting to her feet.

Joel had turned his head away from her, just his eyes reluctantly scanning over her. 

He noted a full spectrum of bruises across her skin, mostly around her wrists, neck, and legs. Some dried blood blotted the inside of her thighs. She turned around slowly, showing him her back, before returning to face him. She slipped her arms around herself again, her eyes never leaving the filthy linoleum at her feet.

With decades between Joel and life before the outbreak, he liked to consider himself fully numb at this point. The child in front of him was making him waver as outrage swirled uncomfortably in his stomach. He glanced at the dead bodies around him and wished he’d made them suffer more. Death was far too kind.

He shrugged off his flannel.

“Put this on,” he said as he held it out to her.

She looked between him and the shirt fisted in his hand. She slowly stepped forward but hesitated when she reached for it. 

Joel nodded in encouragement. 

As her fingertips brushed the fabric, it was like a visceral need shot through her. She quickly grabbed it, spinning away from him as she shoved it on. It was just long enough to cover her completely. She began to work on buttoning it up.

He wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with this kid now. 

“Where did you come from?” He asked. 

The girl just continued to fumble with the buttons.   

“You from the Pittsburgh QZ?” He tried. 

Her eyes bounced up to him for a moment. 

“Okay, so the Pittsburg QZ,” he deduced from her glance alone. “I’ll bring you back there if—“

He’s interrupted by her outright panic, frantically shaking her head, tears welling in her eyes. 

Goddamnit. He sighed. 

“FEDRA wants you,” he assumed in defeat. She fiddled with a sleeve regretfully. 

The rumbling of an approaching car cut them off. Joel pushed the girl back into her hiding spot behind the tables and crouched down beside her, training his gun on the door. 

The engine cut off and the footfalls of several people crunched in the gravel. 

“Pat?” A voice outside called as it approached, “Shawn?”

The door swung open and Joel fired, striking the man through the chest. Chaos descended upon the room. 

The back door burst open and Joel pivoted, shooting the intruder and covering the girl. He immediately returned his aim to the front door at the sound of a gun cocking. 

Joel managed to fire once before ducking behind the table as bullets sprayed back at them. He left the girl’s side, moving further back and using a booth as cover to divert the gunfire. 

He leaned out and took three more shots. Over the explosions of gunpowder, he didn’t hear the fourth man enter from the back. 

A boot collided with Joel’s head, knocking him and his gun to the floor. Joel reached for the weapon but another pair of hands gripped the barrel. 

They both grappled and fought for possession, the heavy weight of the man pinning Joel to the ground. The man wrenched the gun up to his neck and pressed it tight down against his throat. Joel tried to push back, to allow any bit of air to slide into his lungs, but the man’s weight was too much. 

His hearing started to fade. Black ash plumed in his vision. 

A muffled gunshot rang in his ears and the weight above him suddenly shifted, collapsing onto the floor next to him. 

He saw a blurred figure in his green flannel, crouched off to his side, gun still pointed at the man now lying on the floor. 

She instantly turned as the man at the front moved towards them and she fired a clean shot. His body thudded onto the tile. The chaos was gone and the only sound in the room was the wounded man’s frantic breathing. 

The girl stood slowly, shaking, the gun still in her hand.

Joel sat up and watched wordlessly as she walked forward. 

Shattered glass popped like thin ice under her worn rubber soles with each step.She came to stand over the bleeding man. 

His fingers twitched feebly to reach the pistol laying by his side and she kicked it away. 

She raised her chin as she raised her gun, hands shaking but certain as she looked down at him. 

And she fired. 

The kickback made her startle and her cheeks were soaked with tears, but she kept her eyes on him even as the gun fell from her hand. 

When she moved, she made her way over to one of the other men and leaned down. She reached out and searched through his pocket for a moment before withdrawing. The quiet sound of metal jingling echoed in the room.  

Finally Joel staggered to his feet and picked up his rifle, strapping it to his back. The girl returned to him and said nothing, simply holding out a pair of car keys.

He looked at her, but the girl refused to bring her eyes up from the floor.

He carefully took the keys dangling from her fingertips. 

“Okay,” He nodded, “Let’s get out of here.”

—--

Joel aimlessly fidgeted with the steering wheel, rolling his grip on it. The girl was an unexpected obstacle–cargo with no real destination. She was undeniably an extra weight to carry and ultimately just an extra mouth to feed, but he still didn’t see any other options. 

She sat quietly in the back seat, pulling the hem of her shirt down as far as she could. 

He pulled up behind Bill’s truck, throwing the gear into park.

“Come on,” He said a bit begrudgingly, “I think I can find something for you.”

She hesitantly got out of the car and trailed behind him over to the truck. 

Joel rifled around in the backseat for a minute. In one of the bags, he found an extra pair of Frank’s jeans. Although Frank had become much smaller as his health deteriorated, Joel knew the pants would be ten sizes too big all the same. He found the first aid kit and pulled out the bandage scissors. He knew he'd have to sacrifice his belt for the cause as well and began to undo the buckle, sliding it off.

The snapping of twigs brought his attention back to the girl. He saw her slowly backing away, eyes flitting between the belt in his hands and an escape route.

“Shit, no, I’m just–” Joel rushed to explain, pulling the folded jeans out of the car into her view, “For you, see?”

He held it out toward her. This barely seemed to calm her down. He slowly walked to the hood of the car between them, a neutral ground, with one hand up in surrender. He carefully set the peace offering down. 

“Put ‘em on,” He offered gently before walking back to the truck.

A minute later, the girl appeared to the side of him. He pretended not to be unnerved by her stealth. 

The ill-fitting pants at least got the job done as she stood fully clothed before him. Her sleeves and pant legs were rolled a hundred times over, bulky and unraveling. 

He placed the bandage scissors on the tail bumper.

“Trim them,” He nodded towards the pair of dull blades.

The girl regarded him suspiciously before quickly swiping the scissors and finding a rock to sit on. She busied herself with cutting the denim and flannel. 

Joel popped the hood of the newly-inherited car, inspecting it. It was newer and had better fuel efficiency than Bill’s truck, so he made the decision to switch out the supplies. He started carrying loads between the cars, stocking it up.

The girl returned in clothes that were at least no longer a tripping hazard.

Joel just nodded in approval and reached to take the scissors from her. She stepped back and hugged them close to her chest. Watching her cling to them like safety–he couldn’t bring himself to take them away. It would be good, he reasoned; she would be less of a burden if she had a way to defend herself.

He sighed in defeat.

“I better not find those in my back,” He muttered.

She slipped them into the pocket of the oversized jeans and silently picked one of the bags from the backseat. She slung it over her shoulder and walked it over to the other car.

 ——-

Joel cranked the key in the ignition, the engine turning to life. 

The girl climbed into the passenger seat, curiously scanning the space around her. She poked at the air vent and spun its dial experimentally. She found a square button on the dashboard and pushed it. The glove compartment fell open into her lap, making her jump. 

Joel watched, feeling impatient, even if admittedly a bit amused. 

“Never sat up front before?” He assumed.

She looked in his general direction for a moment. She picked up papers that sat in the compartment and froze when she saw a small black pistol beneath it.  

“I’ll take that,” Joel immediately reached over and plucked it out, unloading the cartridge and barrel in two swift motions before tucking the gun in the side of his door. 

She pushed the glove compartment shut and reached up to the rear view mirror, tilting it. 

“Don’t touch that,” he said, adjusting it back to its proper position. 

Her hand slowly reached back up as she still stole a look at him. She extended a singular finger and gave the mirror a tiny, gentle poke. 

“Christ,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes and a sigh. “Seatbelt,” he directed. 

The girl glanced at him and looked around a bit blankly. 

“It’s—“ Joel started to reach toward her but froze when she flinched, leaning away from him. “Ok,” he backed off, re-calculating his explanation. He pointed to her far shoulder instead. “Behind you?”

She looked and found the strap, running it between her fingertips and then looked back to see him demonstrating with his own seatbelt. 

“You just pull it across, and buckle,” he explained as it clicked in. 

Her face grew troubled, looking between the buckles and the latch in her hand. Fear crept into her expression again. 

“You just push the button to undo it,” he assured her. 

This assuaged her doubt a little, but she continued to side eye him distrustfully. Faster than he could object, her hand flew down to the red button next to him, jabbing it hard before jumping away. 

Sure enough, Joel’s belt popped out, just as he said it would. 

He caught the latch as it slid back across him, looking at her with his eyebrows raised.

She seemed satisfied, buckling her own seatbelt and staring straight ahead through the windshield.

“Okay,” Joel concluded, beginning their drive out of the forest and to the main road. 

As much as Joel thoroughly enjoyed having a quiet commute, he couldn’t help but wonder about his passenger. It had been two hours of silence and sunset was nearing.

“You got a name?” He finally asked, watching the endless country road feed itself to the tires of the car. 

More silence. 

“Or a reason you got the aim of a sniper?” He got no response so he continued. “Or why you don’t talk?”

Nothing. 

“Do you know how to talk?” He prodded. 

He looked over and saw her offended expression. 

“Well you’re not giving me a lot to go off of here, kid,” he reasoned. 

She adjusted in her seat to look out the window.

“Fine,” he gave up. “That’s enough for today,” he decided, pulling off of the road and into the woods, “We’ll stop here and get back on the road in the morning.”

It occurred to him that the girl had no idea where he was headed or why. It didn’t seem to matter to her. 

He found a patch far enough into the woods for his liking and dropped anchor. He started to set out a sleeping bag, tossing the girl one as well. She caught it easily and Joel detected a bit of light in her eyes as she admired the rolled bedding in her hands. Simple pleasures.

Daylight had just about faded when Joel finished warming up a couple of 20 year old chef boyardee’s. The girl looked confused when he pushed a can towards her.

“You’re no good weak,” He said simply.

She hesitantly took the can, her face unreadable. 

He started to eat but was quickly distracted by the sound of the girl, who was eating like she hadn’t been fed in days. He realized that might actually be true–lord knows when she’d eaten last.

“Slow down,” He commented despite knowing he’d probably be ignored. And he was.

—-

Joel laid his rifle down beside his sleeping bag, ready to get some rest. He looked over at the girl and saw a half-shredded book he’d never seen before in her hand. There was almost a slight pull at the corner of her mouth, something like a smile, as she read by the lantern light. 

“Where’d you get that?” He asked, his voice startling her. 

She closed the book and slid it into the sleeping bag, nodding towards the car. 

Joel just hummed in response. 

He reached to turn off the light and the girl flinched hard, her grip on the sleeping bag white knuckled. 

He paused, debating why he always felt so guilty when she was scared, why he cared at all. 

“Listen,” Joel began, trying to articulate his thoughts as cautiously as he could. “What those men did to you. It was wrong, okay? I don’t want… that… from you. I will never want that from you. Understand?”

The girl just stared at the dirt. He couldn’t be sure in dim lantern light, but it seemed like her eyes were pooled with tears. 

She suddenly turned over, facing away from him. 

Joel cursed himself for being so bad at this. He tapped the light off with a small sigh and laid back, looking up at the weave of leaves looming tall above him. 

“Ellie.”

Joel’s head shot up, looking at the outline of the girl through the darkness. He surely didn’t hear that, did he?

Her voice was small but definitely there. 

Ellie. 

Her name was Ellie. 

He rested back down on the sleeping bag. 

“Joel.”

Ch 2

[killed-by-choice]

“Tess Roe,” 21 (USA 1973–1978)

“Tess” was 21 and pregnant with her third baby when she was subjected to extreme negligence by an abortion facility.

Tess didn’t know that her pregnancy was ectopic, a diagnosis that should have been obvious with a competent pre-op exam and ultrasound. She was estimated to be 4 to 6 weeks pregnant and underwent a surgical abortion by sharp curettage (or D&C). The facility didn’t notice anything was wrong, and nobody ordered a pathology report for the remains. Had the remains— or lack of them— been adequately examined, the absence of a corpse should have been an indicator for a possible ectopic pregnancy. But Tess wasn’t warned.

Nine days later, Tess bled to death.

Her autopsy confirmed that she had an ectopic pregnancy, which the abortion facility had entirely failed to notice. Her left Fallopian tube was ruptured and she had suffered severe internal bleeding before dying. All of it was preventable.

As Dr. Wendy Recant, the director of surgical pathology at Michael Reese Hospital, said to the Chicago Sun-Times after another death caused by the same circumstances, “It would be the grossest kind of malpractice to miss one ectopic pregnancy and one woman went home and bled to death.” Yet many others continue to experience the same negligence at abortion facilities today. A few other examples are the deaths of Tia Parks, Brenda Vise, Angela Satterfield, Gladyss Estanislao, Laura Sorrels, Janyth Caldwell, Yvette Poteat, Nancy Hopper, Sherry Emry, Josefina Garcia, Lynette Wallace, Claudia Caventou, Barbara Dillon, Doris Grant, “Denise Roe,” “Ella Roe,” “Elsie Roe,” “Kate Roe,” “Leizu Roe,” “Lia Roe,” “Lihua Roe,” “Shayna Roe,” “Skye Roe” and “Tanya Roe.”

(Tess is Patient 9)

[samobservessonic]

Okay, I promised that I’d do a post about this background StC character and how I might’ve based an OC on her! She’s called Tess Tube and the wiki said that she’s probably based on a rough collie. My OC was based on an Irish setter, but close enough

I looked it up and it turns out that these stories were reprinted in a later StC issue in 1999, so I probably did read them and just don’t remember them

Now, the oldest upload I could find of my OC, Connie, was from 2004, so this checks out. Like, I genuinely thought I based her on Sasha from All Dogs go to Heaven 2, who was my fave character in that series. Anyway, you can see Sasha here (and I should rewatch those movies):

So right, here’s some cringe old art of my OC:

The ear style makes her look more like Sasha, but she literally has the same green camo with a crop-top and long trousers that Tess does, so it's hard for me to believe that I didn't base her on Tess as well There isn’t a moral here, but I had fun making up stories about that OC as a kid and that’s what matters. So I guess I’m here to apologise to Tess Tube for turning her into my OC and then forgetting that she exists and was possibly who I based that OC on?

[the-other-bird]

Random thoughts of episode 2 after first watch

- I love Ellie's and Joel's interactions

- definitely prefer tendrils over spores. During the game I always wondered how the heck you need masks in one plays but not everywhere.

- the fact that in this prologue and the prologue of the first ep scientists make it very very clear that there isn't a cure or vaccine and that their won't be one, convinces me again that Dr Jerry McFirefly had no idea if sacrificing Ellie would actually lead to a vaccine

- so Tess' love for Joel was unrequited because he wasn't able to open up enough and make himself vulnerable enough. It's a huge contrast to Tommy in Jackson, it couldn't be bigger. Have to listen to the podcast I guess, since they apparently talk about her losing a husband and a son. So we probably have either friends with benefits or non sexual very intimate friendship. Also: I said this before but I'm pretty sure that Joel (and many people in a apocalypse there) would be absolutely paranoid about creating a child. My weirdest HC about the world is definitely that doctors who can perform like vasectomies or tie tubes are in high demand.

- Tess wants Joel to hand Ellie over to Bill and Frank to get her where she needs to be! Interesting. I can't wait to meet Bill and Frank next episode and I'm scared for Frank.

- the clickers are awesome and scary and dangerous