Pedro Pascal Fan Fic - Blog Posts

Baby's Beats

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your Apple earbuds and enjoy!

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut, substances--RPF vibes but Pedge is just my fictional avatar for the glory that is Pedro Pascal...

Pedge's Jukebox

Baby's Beats (Spotify)

*Baby Pedge, who will not be caught DEAD singing karoake in public...unless he's bored...or lonely...or tipsy.... *Pedge who cannot help himself if the Xanadu Soundtrack starts, and will immediately begin dancing and biting his lower lip *Pedge who MUST have earbuds at all times, not just to eventually secure his Apple gig, but also to listen to tunes on the busy New York streets *Obviously spent a summer in Madrid as a go-go dancer and cannot shake those groovy 70's vibes...who would want to? *Listens to his favorite soundtracks to hype himself up for important auditions *Creates a different playlist for every theatrical and cinematic character he plays, in order to get in the right headspace *Enjoys a night of relaxation with a substance/beverage of choice, whether alone or partnered with the soundtrack of the evening *When dating or friendshipping, enjoys making a playlist for his beloveds, as something to remember him during work absences *Is VERY nostalgic when listening to music that moves him, and sometimes cannot do so in public without bursting into tears *Is happiest when on the dance floor, with friends, drink in hand, pulsing to the music and forgetting his troubles *Would be delighted to learn about his future dancing opportunities with "Happy Socks" and "Apple", but disgruntled to learn that he somewhat missed his musical cue on SNL 50 Special...#heyheyheyman

*thank you @kodaswrld for the cool dividers!

@lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

Baby Pedge

Oh man, Baby Pedge is the cutest. I've been thinking a lot about the start of any artistic journey and the many roads our dreams can lead us to. Delighted to see his recent appearance at Cannes with the beautiful Lux, and relishing the fruition of so many aspirations, finally realized. A reminder to all of us burgeoning artists that the moment of success is not always the moment most apparent to the crowd. But it's nice when we get to enjoy both...

Preview; RPF

You turned in his embrace, desperately trying to locate the chocolate depths of his eyes in the darkened room. “You didn’t ruin a thing, Pedge” you began. “As artists, we get to experience all of this together, wherever we find ourselves. Our victories. Our defeats. It’s one big tapestry, and it’s nice to find ourselves knitted together.” Even in the dark, you could feel the intensity of his gaze pouring into you. “Was tonight okay? I mean…do you need more?” you stuttered, eager to show your support in whatever way you could. The silence stretched out before you as your heart fluttered nervously in your chest. Perhaps you had said too much…Had the intimacy of the day somehow threatened your easy friendship? You heard a single tear patter to the pillowcase as Pedge caught you in an unexpected and passionate kiss. You held each other, attempting to hold time further still. “Today was everything I needed, and more” Pedge whispered. “Thank you for being my friend. I’m proud of you” he smiled, and your heart exploded in your chest with joy. “I’m proud of you, P” you whispered back, slowly starting to drift into a happy haze, feeling the hairs of his beard bristling at your neck and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist in comfort. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow, just rest” his voice echoed in the recesses of your mind before you fell asleep.

For anyone that enjoys RPF I hope you will check out my New York, New York Series and pair it with Pedge's Jukebox for the full immersive experience! I know RPF isn't for everyone, but Pedge is my avatar for para-social feelings, and I've been neglecting them for too long. Buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride!

Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book!

@lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

In Cold Blood; The Exposition

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Happy to Help" @itwasntimethatdidit40, before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: mentions of alcohol/smoking, huge spoilers for the Truman Capote classic "In Cold Blood" which is referenced A LOT, profanity, romance, common themes from 1959, slight misogyny, murder and mayhem! Enjoy....

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

A seedy and polluted haze drifted over the din of the L.A. basin as Tim Rockford inhaled a slow drag from another satisfying smoke. Just another day in the life of investigation, as the gears of inspection ground down to a wearied lull. Another night for Chinese Take out, thought the P.I as he loosened the strap of his gun holster and downed the first of several whiskeys. Rockford didn’t mind being a private investigator. If pressed, he’d go so far as to say, he absolutely loved it; the adventure, the intrigue, the search for truth amidst a grimy haze of innuendo and misdirection. 

But on tired nights, such as these, he also wondered if a soft, feminine body wouldn’t cushion the loneliness. Begrudgingly extinguishing the cigarette and flicking the light switch, he grabbed his coat, poised to enter the bustling Los Angeles night life before….

A phone rang. 

HIS phone rang, in the echoing and empty office building he populated with so many others. Who would be calling at this hour? He paused but a millisecond to lift the phone receiver, anticipating the tinny crackle of an undisclosed voice.

“Tim Rockford; Private Investigator for hire”. An eerie silence permeated the landline, as Rockford sucked through his teeth with annoyance. “Look Mack, I’m on my way out, so make it quick…”. The line immediately bristled to life as a tentative, high-pitched nasal voice cut through the auditory ether.

“Tim Rockford?” the voice nonsensically repeated, as though caught in an unexpected moment. Rockford cocked his head to the side with curiosity. He wasn't often contacted by a woman, particularly this late at night.

“In the flesh” Tim answered, with softening annoyance. What was this? Rockford had some Moo Shu Pork to order before this whiskey threatened his already cranky stomach lining. Maybe egg rolls were a good idea as a chaser, he pondered, waiting for the caller to get up their gumption. “What can I do you for?” he probed, shifting his weight impatiently. 

“Tim Rockford….in Los Angeles…Tim Rockford, Private Investigator?” the voice gained a little anonymous momentum, as Tim tried to wrangle his increasing disdain.

“Look doll, I don’t care if you’ve got the zorros, but make it quick will ya? I’ve got a plate of stir fry with my name on it….” Rockford admonished, wondering if he should take his raincoat off or not.

“Yes! Yes, Mr. Rockford, forgive my hesitancy. Um….are you familiar with Holcomb? Holcomb, Kansas?” 

Rockford froze with intensity, looking around the quiet, darkened room. Of course, he’d heard of Holcomb, Kansas. The recent catastrophic four person, Clutter Family murder had painted the newspapers over the last couple weeks, and the entire investigative community was alight. Who would do such a thing in a sleepy, unassuming town? It had all the markings of a robbery gone wrong, but what could have led to such unmitigated violence? Tim’s inquisition and sense of justice was immediately heightened, but he tried to play it off as the cool cat he was.

“Plastered all over the news, paper shaker. What’s it to me?” his stomach gurgled audibly as he waited with rapt anticipation. He wanted in. This was maybe the biggest crime of the decade, and chance had potentially dropped a prime opportunity in the palm of his hand.

Another dramatic pause of introspection gripped the receiver before the voice admitted, “We need help Mr. Rockford. This case is much bigger than anyone here in Finney County can muster. It’s only a matter of time before the Kansas Bureau of Investigations comes snooping into all our business, and we want someone we can trust. You know, a man of the people…” the voice confessed.

Score.

“Alright doll, how many smackers are we talkin’?” Rockford chewed his lip with anticipation. He had just finished a recent case and there were no prospects on the horizon. Well, unless you counted the secretarial search, but a hook as large as this one would necessitate two…no…four weeks of investigation, travel and per diem. Maybe even justicial glory for the taking.

“Well….we took up a little charity offering at the town hall yesterday. Managed to dig up about one hundred dollars…” Rockford rolled his eyes before draping a weary hand over his furrowed brow. One hundred dollars? That would barely cover two weeks salary, to say nothing of the cost of food and travel. He stalled momentarily, unsure of his footing as the caller placated.

“Please Mr. Rockford, I think you might be our only hope”.

Rockford held his breath, weighing the options. The pay wasn’t as enticing as he’d hoped, but the rewards would far outweigh any monetary reparations. If his moniker was attached to solving the crime of the decade, it was only a matter of time before Rockford P.I. was a household name.

“I can be there in about two days” Rockford’s gravelly voice betrayed a hint of child-like enthusiasm as the anonymous caller rattled off the important details.

“Oh thank you Mr. Rockford, P.I., sir. I can’t tell you what a boon this is for Holcomb, Kansas. We are just beside ourselves with worry” the voice pleaded as Rockford nodded with encouragement.

“Damndest thing I’ve heard of in a while” Rockford admitted. “I’ll get to work straight away. See you in a few days, Mrs.….?”….but the line went dead at the potential inquiry.

Hmmm. Not a good sign. But Rockford was already planning his next move. Grab every piece of newspaper clippings, roadmaps and literature he could get his hands on. Pack a suitcase for a few weeks in Holcomb, Kansas, hop in his trusty Ford Falcon tomorrow morning and start the arduous task of uncovering the truth in the “Clutter Family Murders”.

Now, all he needed was an egg roll, some Moo Shu Pork and a good night’s sleep. Finney County, Holcomb, Kansas….here I come.

The mellifluous voice of Frankie Avalon drifted from your record player singing the dulcet tones of “Why” as you teased your bouffant just a bit higher.

I'll never let you go Why? Because I love you I'll always love you so Why? Because you love me

You bit your lower lip, already smudging the dark red lipstick you had freshly applied. Who did you think you were, Marilyn Monroe? You were reaching for the stars, not trying to ascend to heaven with the height of your questionable hairstyle. Opting for a more humble approach, you shifted your pantyhose awkwardly as they began to ride up your ass. So much for new fashions. 

No broken hearts for us 'Cause we love each other And with our faith and trust There could be no other

You had already been to more interviews than you could count, and opportunities were starting to become scarce. For most employers money was tight, and you didn’t have an official secretarial certificate to fall back on. But you were talented, skilled, full of moxie, and today on this potentially mediocre Tuesday, that was all you needed. 

I think you're awfully sweet Why? Because I love you You say I'm your special treat Why? Because you love me

You nodded curtly at your beleaguered expression in the mirror, grabbing your coat and heading for the door.  You were determined to land this next employment, come hell or high-water, and were willing to do whatever it took. Well, ALMOST whatever it took, you noted, grabbing your thermos of coffee and heading for the bus stop. This Mr. Rockford P.I wouldn’t know what hit him, you mused, locking the door securely behind you and strutting forward confidently. At least you would try to look damn good...while you, once again, fell flat on your coifed face...

We found the perfect love Yes, a love that's yours and mine I love you and you love me I love you and you love me We'll love each other dear forever

Rockford had spent most of a sleepless night pouring over the many newspaper clippings he had accumulated about the Clutter Family Murders. Somehow the Moo Shu Pork remained relatively untouched. The trades could always be sensational, but the distinction of these reports was indicated by everything they DIDN’T say. This was a veritable bloodbath, which had done quite enough to set Tim off his much anticipated dinner. The main point of contention seemed to be the cause for such a grandiose and seemingly incomprehensible atrocity. The Clutter Family did not seem to possess extravagant monetary means. They were well-loved and admired by the town of Holcomb, Kansas; couldn’t have been more quintessentially traditional than apple pie.

What had gone wrong?

One newspaper clipping had stood out. Such was the descriptive narrative by a reporter named…Capote something…Rockford had all but obsessed on its picturesque description. 

“Until one morning in mid-November of 1959, few Americans-in fact, few Kansans had ever heard of Holcomb. Like the water of the river, like the motorists on the highway, and like the yellow trains streaking down the Santa Fe tracks, drama, in the shape of exceptional happenings, had never stopped there. The inhabitants of the village, numbering two hundred and seventy, were satisfied that this should be so, quite content to exist inside ordinary life-to work, to hunt, to watch television, to attend school socials, choir practice, meetings of the 4-H Club. But then, in the early hours of that morning in November, a Sunday morning, certain foreign sounds impinged on the normal nightly Holcomb noises on the keening hysteria of coyotes, the dry scrape of scuttling tumbleweed, the racing, receding wail of locomotive whistles. At the time, not a soul in sleeping Holcomb heard them-four shotgun blasts that, all told, ended four human lives. But afterward the townspeople, therefore sufficiently unfearful of each other to seldom trouble to lock their doors, found fantasy recreating them over and again-those somber explosions that stimulated fires of mistrust in the glare of which many old neighbors viewed each other strangely, and as strangers.”

Rockford issued a heavy sigh, dragging himself to his feet, pouring himself into the Ford Falcon and making a quick trip to the office. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with irritation and fatigue. Maybe a breakfast of whiskey and aspirin wasn’t TOTALLY out of order. He had started packing a small suitcase for the approaching trip, before realizing that most of his formative research and notes still remained at the office. Pulling into the parking lot of the building, his reliable Ford puttered to a smoky stop before Tim achingly lumbered up the stairs to his own office. Just ONE whiskey before the road. How many aspirin could you take on an empty stomach, he wondered before opening the door to find….

….the silkiest legs he had beholden in more time than he would care to admit.

The sounds of an imaginary saxophone seemed to permeate his now idling brain, as his eyes lugubriously dragged from the curving ankle up to the ironed skirt, and finally resting on the mischievous expression of an unknown female.

“Mr. Rockford, I presume?” you stood, outstretching a well-manicured hand into the dumbly, overstimulated countenance of a somewhat befuddled and handsomely disheveled private investigator.

“Ummmmm….” he stalled, simultaneously looking around the office to make sure nothing untoward lay in a public place. 

“I’m here for the secretarial interview” you immediately offered, as he kicked the door shut behind him, holding your hand tentatively in his surprisingly tender grasp.

A spark of acknowledgement flitted through his mind scape as he reconsidered the logic of a whisky chaser with breakfast. Damn. What a doll. Shame that I can’t investigate further, he lamented, dropping your hand with immediate chagrin and bustling about the office haphazardly.

“Look sweetheart, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m just on my way out with an important case. I’m sorry the agency wasted your time, but I’ve got little to no time for a person of your….skill” Rockford seemed to be bumbling with his words as he gathered the important documents and research loosely in his grasp. Your expression immediately fell with disappointment before morphing into a confident transformation.

“I’m not with an agency!” you piped up, starting to organize his desk, such as it were, and placing a smelly, used cigar in the nearby wastebasket. “I’m a go-getter, and a single gal of wit and resource. Looks like you could use all the help you can get!” you blurted out enthusiastically, grabbing the pile of papers from Rockford’s surprised hold and smoothing them into an organized pile. “Now if you’ll just show me where the typewriter is, I can get to work on notating this important case of yours” you insisted, nearly shoving him to the side and plopping down in the main office chair as it squeaked with impetulance.

Tim smiled ruefully to himself, opening the side drawer that revealed assorted contents of handcuffs, pencils, paperclips and aspirin. Well weren’t you a fire starter? Typical redhead. He winced with regret, massaging the back of his neck with discomfort. Get ahold of yourself, fella; no time for night time fantasies in the day. Just let her down easy and head towards the next steps of your future. “Look Miss….?”

“You can call me Red” you offered definitively, beginning to rifle through Rockford’s drawers in order to appear decisive, but gasping ever so slightly upon discovering what appeared to be a spare revolver in the lower chest. Clearing your throat immediately you sallied forth, brushing past his broad shoulders and beginning to organize the disastrously unkempt file cabinets in desperation. 

You could NOT lose this job opportunity. You would do whatever it took…and this Mr. Rockford could just get on board sooner rather than later. Rockford stood smiling behind you, with a knowing agitation. Maybe he could employ your services after the case, but it wasn’t going to be easy to throw you off of his scent. Maybe intimidation was the key...

“Familiar with the Clutter Family Murders?” he all but interrogated, reaching over to slam the file cabinet shut, a puff of air displacing your auburn locks and eliciting a fast flourish of your feather-like eyelashes.

“Of course” you lied. It’s possible you had read something fleeting in the local newspapers, but most of your attention had been focused on securing a new job as fast as was humanly possible. It had been a long trek to L.A. and you weren’t enthusiastic about returning to your mid-western roots, with your tail between your legs. Determined to make something of yourself in the City of Angels, you stared back at Rockford with what you hoped was a steely gaze of determination. Rockford’s glance lowered ever so quickly to the plump, reddish hue of your lipsticked mouth. 

Damn. “Look doll…I mean…Red…I don’t know the intricacies of this case, I’ve only just started. But based on the trades, the scene is about as colorful as that perky nickname of yours. Not easy fixin’s for the eyes of a lady, to say nothing of a doll….” Rockford bluntly stated, as a thin shade of embarrassment crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

Damn. “Mr. Rockford, I don’t know how many ‘dolls’ you’ve employed in the past, but I am no shrinking violet” you tried to quell the slight tremor that laced your voice. Probably just…the excitement of a new job opportunity. “I am more than capable of fulfilling any secretarial duties, whether the crime is polite or not” you nodded curtly, perhaps in an attempt to convince even yourself. Rockford gazed at you appraisingly with a degree of skepticism.

“I can’t pay you…much” Tim muttered, hesitantly considering the options before him. This was quite possibly the biggest case he had ever been invited to solve, and it didn’t escape him that he might need all the help he could get—even from a distracting broad like you. Your visage shifted ever so slightly with the changing balance of power.

“I’m very interested in gaining more experience” you blurted out a bit too quickly before confidently placing your hands on your hips. “I can type 60 words per minute and make a darn good cup of joe”. Almost as an afterthought you raced around the desk, grabbing your purse for the plaid thermos, unscrewing the top and hefting it under Rockford’s nose. Tim tilted his head to the side with cynicism.

“Travel per diem might be in order….” he considered, taking the thermos tentatively and sniffing with curiosity. This was better than whiskey. Or….better WITH whiskey, he sipped slowly at first, eventually draining the entire draught. Your mouth dropped with surprise at this new information.

“Travel?” you dumbly repeated, dropping the purse on the nearby chair and attempting not to sink down on top of it. What the hell? You had barely been in L.A one month and had yet to fully understand the transit system. Was your first job in this new life, already tearing you away from it? “Travel to where??” you doubled down, stubbornly unwilling to let go of this tantalizing opportunity just within your grasp.

“Holcomb, Kansas of course!” Rockford wiped his mouth with the back of a speckled hand, returning the thermos and now rifling through the drawers once again. Aspirin. Revolver. Binoculars….He begrudgingly thought better of actually retrieving the “breakfast whiskey”.

“KANSAS?!” the word escaped from your mouth like an accusation, trying to pin him down with incredulity and meeting his gaze with unadulterated surprise. “When?”

“That’d be now, sweets” Rockford offered, nodding curtly and lumbering out the door with a handful of files and assorted necessities as you looked around the office helplessly.  “Either way, thanks for the coffee, you’re a real doll. Meet you back here in an hour if you’re game. Otherwise, I’ll be seein’ ya…” his voice drifted down the hall as you stood with mouth agape.

He must be joking. Within thirty minutes of meeting Rockford P.I. you had a possible job, the promise of adventure and intrigue, and a questionable road trip with a man you hardly knew. What could possibly go wrong?

“Does that mean I’ve got the job?” you questioned, receiving no answer whatsoever and hearing a car puttering to life outside.

Well not if you just stand there, Red, you mused, gathering your things and taking one final glance around the office. “Catch you on the flip side!” you muttered to no one in particular, racing down the hallway and running towards the nearest bus stop. If you hurried, you could just make it.

Exactly one hour later, you felt ridiculous. Standing on the corner, with a small, humble suitcase, you felt like Little Orphan Annie. You bit your lower lip in frustration. If William could see you now, he would be laughing his ass off. You brushed the self-deprecating thought aside. Well, William isn’t here now, and it’s up to you. You heard the sound of the sputtering Ford Falcon before seeing it, as a smoky plume drifted into your peripheral view and Rockford P.I. loomed large before parking the car just beside you, the engine idling loudly.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come, Red” he smiled, opening the passenger door, and gesturing to the back. “Glad you packed light! Hoist it in the back will ya?” It seemed you had passed the point of no return, as you hefted your small suitcase atop boxes of newspapers, a small typewriter, baseball bat and other assorted mysteries. You hesitated just a moment before wiping down the dusted passengers seat and noting the myriad of cigarettes populating the nearby ash tray.

“How ‘bout it doll? Ready for an adventure?” Rockford asked rhetorically, before the engine roared to life in response. Your answer died quickly on your lips before settling in your stomach with a heaviness that betrayed the fluttering curiosity in your chest. Only one way to find out…

@littlemisspascal  @lizette50 @beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya  @schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @galaxyedging @joelalorian @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave  @copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @yorksgirl @quicax3 @shaunasflannel @shinyanchorobject

Dieter's Studio; Where is D?

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. Love this post, and inspired by the Trope-Off...

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

Art Studio

My Darling Dieter,

I love being included on your travels! yes, I've definitely heard of "The Bean" but didn't realize its erotic double entendre as you mentioned. I'm glad you were "flying high" on the Sky Deck without being intoxicated! Where is My Darling D? Yours, J

My Darling Dieter,

Raccoon! I couldn't be more enthralled! The Art Institute looks transcendent! No, I don't know much about Seurat and his method of tapping, but I'm excited to explore it with you when you get home! Sorry these pieces reminded you of me, and that you got a hard on in the museum... Love, J

My Darling Dieter,

Oooh, I think I'm starting to zero in on where you are! It's probably just as well that it's very windy, so you don't light too many cigarettes on your trip there. Enjoy lots of theater research for your upcoming one man show, and come home ASAP! I got a new loofah sponge I'm dying to try with you in the shower... Yours, J

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter's former PA! D has been doing lots of research for his upcoming one man show "Big D Energy; A Retrospective". I've been focused lately on my own health journey, as D continues to excel post-rehab, but he's intent on including me in his travels before returning home. Now that I'm living with him, I've ceased my official PA duties, other than sponge baths, and can't wait to hear more about his next adventures. I think he might be visiting places like the Art Institute of Chicago, featuring artists like Picasso, Seurat, Monet and many more. Where in the world is D?

"What Happened to Belen?"

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! Pedge and I have had a few ups and downs over here, but are managing okay! A couple WIP's, currently re-reading the Women's Rights book, "What Happened to Belen?" as recommended by Papi Pascal. Pedge's Bookshop has decided to tackle the important literature with Javier Pena at our side. Seems like he has plenty to say about it...

“Maybe…” you whispered, his face softening ever so slightly in response. The shift was incremental, but noted nonetheless. “You can’t always judge a book by its cover”, the words fell out of your mouth sloppily, but with sincerity nonetheless. He stood up slightly taller, considering your words and looking at the magazine centerfold once again. “Too true, hermosa, too true” he seemed to acquiesce. closing the magazine definitively and looking at you with a new appraisal. “What are YOU reading?” he pointedly asked, allowing his eyes to meander over the totality of your body, as though still looking at the magazine contents. You shifted with an annoying arousal that you couldn’t quite shake, noticing the buttons of his shirt dangling precariously open revealing a sun-kissed, tanned torso. Stupid PMS. “Uh…” your brain stalled like a sputtering car as he smiled sweetly at your unravelling manner. “Pena” he held his hand out, wiping it deftly across the backside of his jeans and extending it forwards into your halting grasp. “Javier Pena” he matter-a-factly stated, his Adam’s apple bobbing strongly in his throat as a small trickle of sweat cascaded down his sternum. Holy hell. It must be hotter in here than you realized.

The Last of Us

Went a little old school today. Negotiating my health challenges, and hoping The Tumblr doesn't crash. Super excited about Season 2 of the Last of Us coming out this Sunday, but might need to watch after the fact. If you're looking for a fix until then, check out my "Crime and Punishment; Last of Us" hybrid I wrote for Pedge's Bookshop. I'm really proud of the series and it sets us at the doorstep of Season 2. Check it out!

Until then, "endure...and survive..."

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.” “Don’t be overwise; fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid - the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again.” “the most offensive is not their lying—one can always forgive lying—lying is a delightful thing, for it leads to truth—what is offensive is that they lie and worship their own lying…”

Pedge's Bookshop The Epilogue

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this RPF fic "Between the Pages and Us" by @andy-15-07 before heading into The Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, PTSD/anxiety attack,/nightmare, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", foreshadowing for LOU Season 2, pregnancy, not really smut but a lot of romance...Gosh, I didn't want this series to end, I think I was stalling a little...(series completion)

Series Masterlist

Words: 6k

Somehow you felt you had finally arrived. A lifetime of running, and you still had no earthly idea where you were going. But the events of the last few months had coalesced into a contentment that felt unbridled and dreamlike. You felt an odd pang of regret, recognizing the circumstances that had to occur to arrive at such a conclusion. But you almost didn’t care. Almost.

The often stoically minded Joel had softened himself for your benefit during this season of healing, and didn’t seem altogether bothered by the metamorphosis, however temporary it might be. He jokingly demanded all of his meals were spent in bed, so he could enjoy the luxury of having your supple body nestled beside him. A tenuous rapport had resumed with Ellie, particularly as she entertained a flirtation with a fellow commune resident named Dina. Under Joel’s feigned aloof tutelage, she endeavored to invite Dina to an upcoming dance to celebrate the Spring Harvest. But since her confession at the hospital, an unspoken apprehension had permeated the Miller household. It was as though the secret itself had tendrils of infection, moving into the nooks and crannies of an otherwise happy existence, and you found yourself wondering when the emotional dam might break.

There were so many aspects of life that were tenuous and fragile, and life could change at the flick of a switch. Sometimes, nearing the end of reading “Crime and Punishment” Joel’s baritone voice would trail off absentmindedly, as he read to you in bed. At first, you thought he had fallen asleep, but often discovered him starting darkly into the corners of the room, haunted by phantasms of the past you could never entirely understand. It often seemed that Joel was in an emotional prison of his own making, and his main solace in existence was the ever-present, anchoring support of his once again found family.

The both of you were still often plagued by nightmares, as you gathered bits and pieces of a life no longer lived. Joel’s stray, delirious comments about the horrors of the hospital, or impassioned plea to keep Sarah safe. Some of your nightmares were just as enigmatic; wrestling with Levi in a pit of snakes or running from infected that hounded you till you awoke in frightened disorientation. And Joel was always there. Grasping at your hands that were grabbing for purchase, shushing and pleading to remind you that you were safe. Somehow, his eyes would always find you in the dark, softly coaxing you back to the light. And you would hold one another, swaying from side to side or humming quiet melodies until the dawn arose. 

One recent commune expedition had brought back a guitar, and you were shocked to discover that Joel was a humble musical aficionado. It took quite a bit of convincing, but he had even started playing simple choruses, particularly at night when the stress of the day seemed to catch up with the entire family. Even Ellie seemed impressed as she took up the mantle of reading aloud, as you knitted in the living room. Though often besieged by Rascal the Cat and introspectively serenaded by Joel, it kept the nightmares at bay, with the dream-like quality of something from a book. And there wasn’t a moment you wanted to take for granted.

As the healing process continued there was thankfully a lot of work to be done. The Bookshop was nearing its final reveal, and as Joel’s health continued to improve, Maria was nearing her due date. Joel and Ellie had begun to take small trips to the Bookshop in preparation, and you had all but moved into the Miller residence full time. It was ridiculous to cite nursing duties, as returned to your teaching obligations full time. But the easy rapport and comradry you felt, not only with Joel, but with Ellie had started to wear away your well-developed armor. It was a new life. And part of you had to guiltily acknowledge Levi’s demise as a stepping stone to that contentment.

You didn’t know what to make of Levi’s final actions. It wasn’t a feeling of gratitude, but a sort of begrudging awareness that every journey has a price. Whether selling yourself to the highest bidder, or exacting emotional interest on a debt that required payment, there would always be a punishment for the crime. More and more, you wondered if that debt was housed in humanity or Divinity. Dostoyevsky seemed to have an understanding, but it seemed beyond your own machinations. All you knew was that you were currently reaping the benefits of a life well-lived, and whatever suffering the future held, you would encounter it; together. Levi was a distant part of your past that had reared its ugly head, and despite the current existential respite, a certain foreboding crept on the horizon. You just hoped you could be unafraid and meet it head on.

And so the days turned into weeks, and things began to resume a certain post-apocalyptic normalcy. School resumed, the spring harvest was well underway and the Bookshop was slated to officially open to the rest of the commune in a matter of weeks. In the interim, Tommy had successfully traded for more resources at Elk Creek and Joel was looking sturdier on his feet, even adding a beautiful mahogany coffee table to the cozy bookshop atmosphere. It wasn’t until Ellie came home one day after school that the darkening clouds of confrontation began to assemble.

“We’re havin’ a dinner” she began, under Joel’s watchful stare.

“What’dya mean ‘we’re havin’ a dinner’?” he parroted with suspicion, as you quietly prepared food in the background.

“I mean, Maria and Tommy came by The Bookshop while you were out and invited themselves over for dinner sometime” Ellie bluntly stated, shifting awkwardly. Joel cleared his throat authoritatively, mirroring her discomfort.  

“What for?” Joel questioned, his eyes narrowing skeptically.

“They said it was just to catch up on commune responsibilities, and see how you were doing. But you know how Maria is” Ellie observed. You felt the bristle of tension move through the kitchen as you stirred the evening stew.

“Maybe…you could invite Dina?” you offered, trying to lighten the mood before Joel and Ellie both vociferously objected.

“No (just) way (family)” their voices clashed aggressively as your eyebrows shot up with surprise. The kitchen deadened to an uncomfortable silence.

“I…kind of expected them to come by…sooner…” you trailed off, hesitant to voice everyone’s concern. Tommy’s presence in the hospital had been unrelenting, and you didn’t doubt their current intentions for a millisecond. But Maria was besieged with plans for the upcoming delivery and commune responsibilities. And Ellie’s confession…

“Just say it” Ellie proffered bitterly. “It’s my fault”.

“Absolutely (FIDDLESTICKS!) not” this time you and Joel cascaded in a heap of protestations. The silence awkwardly returned.

“Fiddlesticks?” Ellie coyly smirked, tilting her head towards Joel jokingly. You heaved a sigh of relief, chuckling under your breath.

“I TOLD you to tell ‘em” Joel encouraged, nodding his head defiantly. “Didn’t say it was gonna be easy though”. The pots of food bubbled precariously on the stove, much like the pressurized conversation. “Alright, tell ‘em to come over tomorrow night” Joel said definitively glancing in your direction.

“No bramble berry wine this time” you wisely observed, returning to your dinner tasks. This reunion was long overdue, and there was nothing to fear. Just time with family. Your newfound family. Nothing to worry about. But as you and Joel plated the prepared dinner, you couldn’t help but wonder; what newfound challenges were the three of you headed into this time?

Joel hugged you against his side tightly, nestled comfortably in the darkened bedroom. Ellie had already gone to sleep upstairs, and with your leg hung loosely over Joel’s legs you sighed contentedly as his mellifluous voice lulled you into a pleasant drowsiness.

“And yet he was ashamed, even before Sonia, whom he tortured because of it with his contemptuous brought manner. His pride had been stung to the quick. It was wounded pride that made him ill. Oh how happy he would have been if he could’ve blamed himself. He could have borne anything the, even shame and disgrace. But he judged himself severely. Vague and objectless anxiety in the present, and in the future a continual sacrifice leading to nothing—that was all the play before him. What had he to live for? What had he to look forward to? Why should he strive? To live in order to exist? Why? He had been ready a thousand times before to give up existence for the sake of an idea, for hope, even for a fancy. Perhaps it was just because of the strength of his desires that he had thought himself a man to whom more was permissible than to others. He suffered too from the question; why had he not killed himself? Was the desire to live so strong and was it so hard to overcome it? In misery he asked himself this question and could not understand. He didn’t understand that consciousness might be the promise of a future crisis, of a new view of life and of his future resurrection.”

Joel paused to remove his reading glasses and scratched at a small scar you had noticed, situated just to the side of his face. You delicately reached up to stroke it, but his head jerked away as his hand swatted your attentions to the side. It was uncharacteristically curt of him, and your body crumpled aside him with embarrassment. He turned to look at you apologetically, his lips tightening to a narrow line of reticence.

“I’m fine. Don’t need your nursin’ anymore…” he attempted to explain, but the words only seemed to seep into your skin with a heavy poison. You drew your body away from him in confusion as he dropped the book to bring you back to his side. “Wait. I didn’t mean that” he whispered, dipping his head to the crook of your neck, his beard bristling at the tender skin of your decoupage. You giggled quietly, pleased that the misunderstanding was short-lived. There were still many unseen scars that might never completely heal, but you were thankful to be with a man like Joel who didn’t shy away from the ones you also possessed. You didn’t have long to think about it, as Joel’s lips dragged achingly slowly across your neck and nibbled at your jawline. “Enjoyin’ the final chapter of ‘Crime and Punishment’” he teased, mumbling into your breastbone, as his hands found their way to your backside, squeezing gently.

“Oh absolutely…” you drawled, gripping him tightly against you and drawing your fingers across his back seductively. “It’s so visceral, I don’t remember the epilogue being so alluring when I read it in college” you joked, feeling Joel’s body titter with laughter against you. 

“Must be the company” he smiled, looking lovingly into your eyes. You reached up to stroke his face sweetly.

“What are we gonna do about the dinner?” you sighed, the sudden intake of air signifying his trepidation as much as your own.

“Don’t know” Joel bluntly stated, leaning back on his side of the bed and looking up at the ceiling. He took your hand, interlacing your fingers with his own as you both lay still in the quiet bedroom. “Maria doesn’t know….everything” he began, the bed creaking awkwardly under his shifting weight. “Nobody really does”. You held your breath tentatively, as though waiting for permission. There had been so many indicators of a tension unresolved; a type of secret that was infecting even the healthiest of relationships and desires.

“Something at the hospital?” you whispered, longing to press Joel further, but hesitant to force the matter. Joel’s head shifted quickly in your direction, as though telepathically imploring you to clairvoyantly understand. The moments passed laboriously slow, as an old wooden clock ticked loudly in the corner. You drew Joel’s hand to your heart, breathing quietly as you looked into his eyes. “You saved her” you recounted from Joel’s previous delirium, his eyes closing abruptly in remembrance. A pained look crossed his features as you waited patiently.

“That day…in the hospital….with the Fireflies…” Joel began, as though dragging the words through the mud with every suffering syllable. “We lost so much on the journey to bring her back…” he observed, thinking about Tess, and Sam and so many others on their meandering sojourn. “Ellie wanted her immunity…to help others. To save us all….” Joel opened his eyes once again, a newfound tear cascading down the side of his face as he turned to meet your gaze. “But if I had known I was deliverin’ her to death’s door, I never woulda stopped runnin’” he confessed, gripping your hand tenaciously in his own.

“But the raiders, they attacked you. You saved her. Even if she’s immune, there are others. Let others worry about it…” you remembered from Ellie’s description at Joel’s bedside. What part of the story were you missing? Your voice hung questioningly in the silence as Joel swallowed dryly under the heat of your stare.

“What if I told you….” he paused, shuddering slightly on the next inhale “…there weren’t no raiders at the hospital that day?”. You blinked confusedly, eyeing him with skepticism.  Joel sighed heavily, as though battling a silent war within himself. The clock’s ticking thudded in dull, oppressive strokes as you watched his shoulders tighten in immeasurable tension. He brought his hand tiredly over his face, rubbing at his temples and scowling with indecision. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. He looked like he was going to be sick, and you wondered if his wound had in fact healed properly, or if he were nursing another fever. He drew in a shaky breath to steady himself before muttering, “Can’t keep this secret anymore….s’gonna kill me. Or kill Ellie in the process…” his voice cracked, steeling himself for the long overdue confession.

“The Fireflies nearly killed her at the hospital that day” he whispered raspily, shaking his head from side to side. “Wasn’t gonna let nobody hurt my girl…not again” he said, almost to himself, as you tried to grapple with this new information. You bit your lip in consternation, trying to assemble the details as Joel laid them out.

“They tried to….extract her immunity, and apparently her life was a small price to pay for it” he pleaded with you finally, wringing your hand between his own in supplication. Your eyes widened with awareness as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. “So I killed ‘em. I killed them all”. You mouth fell open in surprise, finally processing Joel’s many enigmatic reactions over the last several months. He was a murderer. You were in love with a murderer. 

Joel seemed to sense your growing apprehension as he pulled back slightly in self-revulsion. “There aren’t no others. It’s just her that’s immune. And Ellie doesn’t know”. Your breath seemed to stop with trepidation, as he nearly collapsed back against the headboard with exhaustion. A myriad of thoughts were pummeling you into disorientation, but Joel was the anchor holding you in place. You gripped his hand more tightly, cupping his face with your other palm, watching his lips tremble apologetically. “Wouldn’t change a damn thing” he muttered over and over again, as you flung yourself into his arms. No one could know. For Joel’s sake. For Ellie’s sake. For your own. The only possible redemption resided in this secret confession, but that’s as far as it could be allowed. The only other thing that remained was to suffer in silence. And so that’s what you did. For the rest of the night, you held one another in the silence of that horrible realization. Ellie was immune. And she was alone. But there wasn’t a damn thing that could be done about it.

The next morning passed wordlessly as the Miller household was submerged in a state of tension. Ellie was appropriately worried about the upcoming dinner, but you and Joel held the suspension of disbelief, knowing the additional gravity of the situation. Maria was a bloodhound when it came to the truth, territorially motivated by the continued survival of the commune, and viscerally impassioned with the upcoming birth of her child. After Ellie’s hospital confession, the five of you held a special connection that seemingly surpassed that of bloodlines and family, but would that information be enough to leave things as they were? You spent the day, avoiding Ellie’s stare in class, and rushing home to prepare the simple dinner. 

Before you knew it, dusk was upon you as you observed Tommy and Maria slowly making their way across the blossoming field, leading up the Miller household. You felt your stomach anxiously lurch, suddenly wishing that you and Joel had discussed a plan of action. But for better or worse, the conversation was now imminent as Tommy and Maria approached the landing. Ellie looked like she was standing in front of a firing squad, pressing her plaid shirt staunchly against her rigid body. Joel make quick eye contact with you, as he crossed the living room and opened the door to their overt smiles.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Tommy immediately intoned, bursting through the door and embracing his brother strongly. Joel winced, ever so slightly, his abdominal wound mostly healed, but the surrounding muscles tender and sensitive. Maria patted her stomach empathically, rounding the corner and immediately catching Ellie in a somewhat stilted, but well-intentioned embrace. “I’m starving!” Maria enthusiastically exclaimed, though you secretly wondered if there were an ulterior agenda to the evening’s discussion. You finished setting the table, and enjoyed a round of placated small talk; recent trade at Elk Creek, the upcoming Spring Harvest Dance, preparation for Maria’s upcoming delivery. The banter began to die down as the conversation turned to more pressing matters.

“Joel, how have you been feeling this last month?” Maria began, innocently enough, but the shift in the mood was apparent.

“I hate to say it, but my resident nurse has proven real helpful…” Joel smiled, a tinge of distrust flickering across his eyes that only you were privy to, as he took your hand with encouragement. “I’ll be ready for patrols, as soon as you give the word” he offered, nodding succinctly, hoping to end the conversation there.

“About time to get your sorry ass back out in the field” Tommy joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “Try not to get killed this time” he teased, kicking his brother’s foot good-naturedly under the dinner table.

“And what about you, Ellie?” Maria’s voice gained a syrupy sweetness that immediately brought Levi to mind. What was her intent? “How have you been feeling since our….discussion at the hospital?” Joel’s hand immediately stiffened in yours, his head whipping over to Ellie watchfully.

“I’m ready for patrols too!” Ellie chirped, gripping the table energetically. “Joel can tell you, I’m real capable with a knife, or a gun…” she beamed, as Joel bit back a protective reprimand.

“Oh no, I think you’re far too valuable to risk out on patrol” Maria ventured, under Tommy’s imploring gaze. “It’s not every day you meet someone with immunity” she tried to observe matter-a-factly before Joel slammed his fist in to the dinner table abruptly.

“Goddamit Maria, now you know that’s not up for discussion!” Joel spat, his body becoming a taut representation of feral rage. Maria gripped her swollen belly protectively as Tommy shifted in his seat with embarrassment. 

“It’s just family, Joel” Tommy quietly intoned, nodding in your direction. “Right, Teach? Just hear her out for a sec’” he pleaded, drawing a hand to Maria’s back affectionately as Joel attempted to calm down. The water in the nearby pitcher was still sloshing from side to side as the table sat in relative unease.

“What do you wanna know?” Ellie muttered, her face becoming stoic and steely under Maria’s hopeful countenance.

Maria didn’t hesitate a moment, as month’s of pent up inquisition and curiosity tumbled out of her mouth haphazardly. “Well, you said you were immune, and there were others that shared that ability. But you haven’t found a way to share that immunity? Have you tried a blood transfusion? What about studying your DNA?”

“Maria” Joel growled as he fisted the tablecloth, threatening to upset the entire dinner table this time.

“Honey, can’t we just let sleeping dogs lie?” Tommy beseeched his wife, lowering his gaze to the floor with humiliation.

“I’m just asking a question, Tommy” she bitterly retorted. “Don’t you want your baby to grow up in a commune that’s safe, and protected from EVERY horror this world has to offer?”. She took a deep breath and rested her attention on Ellie once again. “Well, honey, what’ve you got to say for yourself?” 

Ellie’s face nearly curled in a snarl, sensing Joel’s brimming rage and your helplessness in the face of the truth. “It’s no use” she began, holding Maria’s gaze with an unflinchingly cold stare. “I’ve lost countless people that my immunity could never save. Riley, Tess, Sam….None of it made any difference. I was stupid to think the Fireflies could do better. But Joel will tell you. We tried everything, and when that didn’t work, the raiders came and destroyed everything and everyone that got in their way. I’m no damn good to the people I love. Just another god-forsaken human in this shit-show of an existence. And it doesn’t matter if that baby lives to grow old, he better learn to take care of himself, because he won’t be gettin’ any goddam help from the world around him”.  Maria’s face fell with disappointment, nodding slightly with acceptance as Tommy took her hand encouragingly. You bit back a sob, hearing Ellie’s bleak outlook on life in this post-apocalyptic hell. Joel could never tell her the truth about that day. She was already so alone, his apparent betrayal would only serve to isolate her further still. Ellie MUST be kept alive. Looking over at Joel’s graying visage, you wished it didn’t come at such a high cost.

“So that’s it” Maria muttered, touching her belly lightly, her eyes still lowered to the ground. “Joel, are you sure you’re not hiding anything else?” she asked one final time, fixing him with an interrogative stare. You held your breath with anticipation as the room caught Joel in a heated stare. Maria would NOT back down. Either her desperation was so intense or her maternal nature was in intuitive overdrive, it seemed only a force of nature would deter her at this point.

“Well, I guess you caught me…” Joel began, drawing your concern and Ellie’s questioning eyes in one fell swoop. This couldn’t be. You had to stop him from undoing the most difficult choice he had ever made in his life. 

“Teach and I are plannin’ on gettin’ married”.

Your mouth dropped open in surprise, squeezing his hand so hard you wondered if he would need to revisit the doctor that evening. “Joel, are you sure?” the words fell out of your mouth as Ellie reverted back to a teenager of 17 years, giggling and clapping her hands enthusiastically, and Tommy began to beam broadly in periphery.

“Still workin’ on the wedding present, but yeah, I figure if you can put up with me and Ellie for the last several months, ya might be worth keepin’ around for good” Joel’s mouth curled in a mischievous grin as you sat yourself firmly on his lap, hugging him assuredly around the neck for good measure.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Tommy exclaimed, clapping his brother heartily on the shoulder and catching Maria’s knowing expression.

“I told you there was something he was hiding” Maria slowly mused, sighing with relief, and giving Ellie’s arm a soft squeeze of approval as a peace offering. You looked into Joel’s eyes searching for the smallest amount of doubt or hesitation, but found none there. It was something beyond your dreams, that even seemed to quell your nightmares. It was home.

Rascal the Cat sniffed awkwardly at every visitor, as the The Bookshop’s normally quiet atmosphere radiated light and love, the residents of Jackson Commune pouring in throughout the day. Joel stood behind the counter, stoically surveilling, but approachable nonetheless. His arms were folded neatly over his broad chest with skepticism, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, watching families and children make their way around the neatly organized and homey Bookshop. You and Ellie were on social duty, guiding families to the appropriate sections, the corner wood burning stove currently out of use as the Spring season began to thaw everything around it. You looked over at Joel whose statuesque stare was already beaming at your welcoming and warm presence. You could never have imagined this chain of events that first day you walked into his bookshop.

The Bookshop Bell rang jauntily as Tommy sauntered in with a fresh bouquet of lavender, immediately catching your eye and heading towards you. You finished your conversation with a nearby family as Tommy caught you in a familial embrace. “How are the plans comin’ Teach?” you admired the small freckles dotting his cheeks and mischievous sparkle in his eyes that reminded you of Joel. You’d never had a brother, but you were pretty sure this is what it felt like.

“Gosh, I haven’t even stopped to think!” you admitted, brushing a stray hair out of your face and grinning at the children that were good-naturedly chasing Rascal around the biographies section. “Honestly, a wedding ceremony is the last thing on my mind! We’ve got Spring evaluations for the students and I’m helping Ellie organize the Harvest Dance. But at least The Bookshop is finally up and running, and Joel can get back on patrol soon. What about you? How’s Maria?”

“Oh she insisted I leave her alone this afternoon, and sends her regards” Tommy handed you the bouquet, sheepishly tugging at the back of his neck with humility. “She’s just about to pop, and I think I’m driving her more nuts than usual” he confessed, squeezing your arm affectionately. “Just wanted to say, thanks for all your help around the commune, and gettin’ my elderly brother to soften up a little. Welcome to the family!” he leaned in conspiratorially as Joel eyed him suspiciously from the corner. “Don’t tell everyone what a big ole softie he actually is…”. You knowingly smiled, catching Joel’s inquiring gaze that immediately spread into a shit-eating grin. You hadn’t seen that look in a while, and you breathed a sigh of relief enjoying the settling Spring recreation. Maybe everything was going to be just fine. Tommy headed over to the front counter as Ellie caught your attention from the Classic Literature Section.

“Hey Teach, have you ever heard of a book called something like….The Miserables?” Ellie grimaced, skeptical at its existence.

“Les Miserables?” you pondered, glancing at the backroom. “Uhhh…does the musical count?”

Tommy lumbered up to the front counter as Joel finally melted from his stolid, sentry-like visage, relaxing under his brother’s sunshine countenance. “You old dog” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, looking around The Bookshop appraisingly. “I hate to say it, but….you done good. This is just what the commune needs, and seems like you got the best part of the deal” he watched you and Ellie disappear into the backroom, laughing together. “Ya gonna get her a ring?” his eyes twinkled sweetly, reaching over for Joel’s unfinished coffee and taking a swig, wincing at its potent bitterness.

“Not sure you noticed but we’re kinda in an apocalypse right now?” Joel huffed, defiantly placing his hands on his hips, and matching Tommy’s mischief. “HOWEVER, if you’ll put me back on patrols I can get to bartering for it” he gruffly stated. “Already got a wedding present. Do you want me build a city hall and get the appropriate paperwork while I’m at it?” he grabbed the coffee from Tommy’s hand and downed it in one gulp amidst Tommy’s chortling.

“I’m just glad to see you so happy again” Tommy acquiesced, looking around The Bookshop and nodding with encouragement. “Wasn’t but a few months ago, I was starting to think my brother right near lost his mind. Damn, you had me wonderin’ if you were joining up with the raiders, or vying for the Fireflies”. Joel’s eyes flashed a dangerous shade of black before his face returned to a jovial skepticism. “But all that time, you were just fixin’ to get married” Tommy teased. “How’s about some brotherly advice? Doesn’t seem near appropriate for this soon to be dad askin’ about Playboy magazine” his ears tinged a slight shade of red. “How’s about Home and Gardens? Or Women’s Health?” he balked, chewing at his lower lip. Joel heavily clapped a hand on his back looking over at Ellie affectionately.

“We’ll get you fixed up” he surmised. He hadn’t but circled the counter when a young man came running down the commune square, flinging open the door to The Bookshop with the telltale ringing of the doorbell. 

“Tommy, come quick! Maria already went to the infirmary after her water broke…and is screaming bloody murder! I ran as fast as I could…but you might nearly be a dad already!” he gasped between bouts of coughing and sputtering as the color completely drained from Tommy’s face and a tavern-like cheer went up in The Bookshop.

“Holy hell” Tommy muttered, standing still in paralysis, like a man sleepwalking until Joel shoved him towards the door.

“Ellie, get this man over to the infirmary before he damn near falls over” Joel beamed, gesturing for Ellie, and sending the three of them towards the door in a bumbling, talkative heap as you sidled up beside him. 

“Come on ‘Uncle Tommy’ you look like you’re about to lose your lunch!” Ellie joked, grabbing Tommy’s arm and driving him forward. “Say, do you know why one Father’s Day gift wasn’t better than another?” Joel rolled his eyes as Ellie wheeled Tommy out the door. “A tie. It was a tie” she guffawed, pulling Tommy down the street and towards his future, bright and beautiful.

The Bookshop twinkled with congratulations and laughter as families plotted on what to barter for their upcoming “purchases”. Taking Joel’s hand in yours you eyed the three of them stumbling down the commune square towards the infirmary and grinned with satisfaction.

“You know she would do anything for you” you mused, leaning against Joel’s body and sighing with contentment.

“I feel the same way” Joel agreed, smiling tiredly. “But she’s near grown up now. Won’t need me no more” he introspected wearily as Rascal the Cat looped himself around Joel’s ankles.

“Well, some of us still need you” you nuzzled his shoulder fondly as Joel turned, backing you up into one of the nearby bookshelves.

“Joel…” you whispered shyly, looking around The Bookshop with chagrin and remembering your first meeting with nostalgia.

“M’I not allowed to kiss my ‘soon-to-be-wife?” his cheeks flushed brightly as he gazed lovingly into your eyes.

“Fine by me” you smirked, digging your hands in to the front pockets of Joel’s jeans and eliciting a low, chuckle from his towering figure that was caging you in. “You know, it’s okay if that was a red herring or something” you deflected, admiring the swirling depths of feeling in Joel’s nearby shining eyes.

“How’s that?” Joel mumbled into your clavicle as you gripped him possessively around the neck, crumpling your body against him and blushing.

“Oh you know what I mean…If that was just to detour Maria, or if you have second thoughts, I’m not going anywhere” you mumbled before Joel pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

“Not havin’ second thoughts” he blunted stated before planting a searing kiss on your imploring lips that seemed to deaden the chaos in The Bookshop to a single pin prick of loving light. It was quite some time before the sound of the surrounding atmosphere trickled back into your hearing, as your eyes remained closed in a dizzying haze of romantic ebullience. Your eyelids finally fluttered open as Joel watched you keenly, placing both hands aside your face. He looked like he was about to kiss you again before his eyes darted up to the small metallic indentation in the bookshelf just above your head. “Well I’ll be damned” he whispered, digging a small bullet out of the corner and holding it in front of your face with some confusion.

“Expect the unexpected” you drolled, fitting your hips against his playfully.

“Come with me, Teach” Joel teased, pocketing the bullet and pulling you into the backroom. “Rascal, mind the store” he called behind him, meeting the cat’s quizzical expression. “Was gonna save this for our weddin’ night, but sounds like someone needs a little assurance” Joel said over his shoulder as he rummaged around his work space in the back. You enjoyed the fragrant smell of wood chips, coffee and tattered books, silently cataloguing the many resources you had yet to organize.

“S’just a start” he reddened, presenting a chiseled, hand made set of bookends labeled ‘His’ and ‘Hers’ in his outstretched hands before you threw yourself into his embrace.

“How long have you been working on this?” you giggled, seeing his copy of “Crime and Punishment” nearby at this desk.

“‘Bout as long as I’ve been workin’ on weddin’ vows” he grimaced, shaking his head from side to side. “Probably need to set the bar low, Teach” he self-deprecated, shrugging sheepishly.

“Is that your next homework assignment?” you taunted, picking up the book and turning to the most recent dog eared page. Joel took the book from your hands, clearing his throat timidly.

“Just tryin’ to learn from the best” he mused, reading aloud;

“How it happened, he did not know. But all at once something seemed to seize him and fling him at her feet. He wept and threw his arms round her knees. At the same moment she understood, and a light of infinite happiness came into her eyes. She knew and had no doubt that he loved her beyond everything and that at last the moment had come. They wanted to speak, but could not; tears shone in their eyes. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other. What terrible suffering and what infinite happiness before them! But he had risen again and he knew it and felt it in all his being. He knew with what infinite love he would now repay all her sufferings. And what were all the agonies of the past? Everything, even his crime, seemed to him now in the first rush of feeling an external, strange fact. Life had stepped into the place of theory and something quite different would work itself out in his mind. Under his pillow lay Sonia’s Bible, it was the one from which she had read the raising of Lazarus to him. He did not open it now, but one thought passed through his mind; “Can her convictions not be mine now? Her feelings, her aspirations at least…”. He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it; that it would cost him great striving, great suffering. But that is the beginning of a new story-the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world to another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.”

Joel’s raspy voice trailed off, now lost in the curious expression of your eyes that danced with a newfound light. “A new story…” you whispered quietly, drawing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tender kiss.

A new story.

My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter (iii)

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. Love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the @auteurdelabre Trope-Off (Dieter Bravo/Pen Pals)...

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU! Workplace vibes...

Dieter's Art Studio

My Darling Dieter,

Oh silly muffin! I was so excited to receive your postcard and hear more about your spiritual sojourn! I know you are doing research for your reawakening, but I still miss you terribly and our intimate spongebaths. Be sure to keep all your sketches limited to postcards and not the originals....Yours, J

My Darling Dieter,

Racoon! Your travels sound absolutely amazing, it will be just the thing to take your mind off of awards season. YOU are the true gift! My Darling, is it just me or are some of these pictures a bit....erotic? I definitely recognize the artist, but I can't quite put my finger on it....Love, J

My Darling Dieter,

Oh my! My neighbors are fantastically scandalized as they keep intercepting your postcards and complaining about their content. I told them IT'S ART!!! Although, I'm not 100% sure if these images are being displayed in their purest form. Sweet D, I think you've taken some artistic liberties... Yours, J

My Darling Dieter,

There is something about these pieces I can't stop looking at. I find myself drawn into a void-like, dreaming state, thinking about you Mr. Darling D. I think they might be flowers of some kind! But I find them very erotically charged! I can't seem to concentrate on anything else! Are you coming home soon? Who is Georgia? Should I be jealous? Love, J

My Darling Dieter,

Need you. Come home now. J.

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter’s PA. The year has been a challenging one, as Dieter has successfully checked himself out of rehab and has embarked on a spiritual journey of artistic expression! I am sad to report that his holiday special, Cliff Beasts 6 1/2; Hannukah Hijinks, was completely snubbed by the Oscars this awards season, so we indulged in many a sponge bath to recouperate. I myself am experiencing some health challenges, and can't accompany D on his exciting embarkation, so he's promised to send postcards from his travels as I attempt to figure out "Where is D?". He keeps mentioning Georgia, so I think he might be in Atlanta, but it's anyone's guess. I've just received his most recent postcard and he's promised to be home any minute! Gotta go! Where will D be next?

*I'm afraid D has taken HORRIBLE liberties with the classic artwork of Georgia O' Keeffe, but I would encourage anyone to view their work in New Mexico and research their stellar artistic contributions and creative friendships with the likes of Frida Kahlo, Ansel Adams and Agnes Martin.

Pedge's Cinema The Trailer

Concessions Stand @iamasaddie is getting us ready for a true snack! See some of the fics we are going to be covering with Javi this awards season...

Triggers: profanity, alcohol consumption, lite flirtation, disastrous attempts at Italian, easy peezy we're just getting started...

Words: 2.6k

The landlady handed you an archaic looking key that was easily the size of a small brick. You half expected her to give you bottles that said “eat me” and “drink me” in Italian, but she merely snickered tossing her hands up with exasperation. “Idiota americano!” she muttered, not wholly under her breath, closing the ornate door behind her, leaving you alone in the somewhat crumbling apartment.

Guess you didn’t need Google Translate after all.

You looked down at your myriad of belongings, heaped into two large suitcases, and the somewhat dilapidated but charmingly rustic Italian apartment that smiled before you. You had arrived. After about 15 hours and one too many espressos, you found yourself at your Italian residence, anxious to start your teaching internship, yet even more enthusiastic about taking a shower. Finding yourself in your mid-forties, embarking on a summer adventure of this scope seemed an implausibility, as you rubbed at your lower back wincingly. As you shuffled slowly down the narrow hallway, you were exponentially grateful for the study abroad program at the college you had recently gained tenure at. Things were finally starting to amount to professional and personal solidity, so why did you still feel so lost? The bumbling taxi drive hadn’t helped, as you felt for the stale bag of airplane peanuts in your pocket. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. You’d been working with students your entire life and we’re finally exploring the international ways to bring creative techniques to life. But maybe your artistic eyes were somehow bigger than your metaphorical stomach. What were you even doing here? You opened the first door on the left, expecting it to be the water closet and were greeted by the imploring eyes of….a pigeon.

A bona fide pigeon. You blinked back and forth at one another curiously until an unexpected shriek from you caused your temporary flat mate to flutter haphazardly around the room, seeking immediate solace through the nearby open window. Sigh. Expect the unexpected. And, no toilet paper. Obviously. You felt around your pocket for the discarded cocktail napkin. Score. You could do this. Your path might not be clear, but you had earned your summer of adventure. All that remained was to take full advantage of the opportunity, and try to enjoy yourself in the process. Besides, weren’t pigeons a sign of Italian good luck? Maybe they needed to poop on you first. Heading him off at the pass, you quickly locked the window for good measure, taking stock of your surroundings. The shower was a dubious looking pipe that awkwardly found its way to a free standing bath tub. The ceiling of the water closet hovered about two feet above you, as you finally expressed gratitude for your diminutive stature. Finally, being short was working to your advantage, once you figured out how to use the faucets. You returned to your quest, shuffling down the hallway to the first door on the right, finding a queen sized, decorative bed frame showcasing the boudoir and more open windows. Luckily, there was no flora, fauna or fowl this time, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the picturesque view. Dragging your fingers lazily across the veil-like linens you gazed at the idyllic panorama before you. As though mirroring your cinematic dreams, the small Italian town stretched out before you, a winding fantasy of artisan shops, coffee, clotheslines and cobblestone.

What a view. Maybe you weren’t so lost after all.

Savoring the afternoon air, you sat cautiously on the pillowy mattress, a very thin layer of particle dust billowing in the sunlight. But nothing could stop you, as you nestled into the linens for your first nap. Any pigeons were welcome to join you.

A blurry feeling of disorientation greeted you, along with a melodic Italian argument, punctuated by puttering vespas. You blinked lazily at the dusky horizon, propping yourself up on your forearms. Your stomach immediately gurgled in response. You had given yourself several days to acclimate to your new Italian environment, before attending classes and symposiums, but hadn’t really considered what your first order of business would be. The stale bag of peanuts was holding little appeal, so you willed yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to tidy up. The apartment was slightly dilapidated and breezy, but the summer charm was already beginning to work its magic. You laid out your wardrobe on the bed before enjoying a luxurious shower, gazing forebodingly at the ceiling, as though it were about to crash down upon you. Just some getting used to. You looked around the small kitchenette, but only found a teaspoon of dried coffee grounds and what appeared to be some dried olives in the cabinet. Tomorrow’s task; find the nearest farmer’s market.

You had gone to inordinate lengths to make your phone internationally ready, but were already encountering difficulties. Other than a smattering of musical terms, you weren’t seriously proficient in Italian and were looking forward to honing your skills, as Duolingo had proven only conceptually effective. But that’s what this entire experience was about! Dipping your toes into the adventure of travel and mystery. You had tried to research this area of town, but could only find the local cinema listings which seemed to feature at least one movie in English. Clutching your chatty stomach with annoyance you slipped into a silky blouse and comfortable jeans. Stop overthinking and head out the door! Grab your Alice in Wonderland sized key and start exploring, woman! Smiling to yourself with chagrin, you checked for your Euro, passport and key, took a deep breath and closed the front door behind you. Ciao Bella!

It had been several decades since you had been to Italy, but your memory did not disappoint. Floating down the cobblestone streets, you were once again thankful to be wearing sneakers as you gazed at the nonnas bringing in their dried laundry and shouting at one another across the way. You were sure you stuck out like a sore thumb as you used your cell phone as a divining rod to arrive at the local cinema art house, patting yourself on the back. Surprised to discover your very limited geographical intuitions had actually served you, as you noticed the only English Film available blazing against the darkening sky;

PADDINGTON 2.

Alright, it wasn’t “La Dolce Vita”, but you were determined to give your stale packet of peanuts a run for its money, if this Italian cinema had anything resembling the Western definition of a snack. As per usual, the Italians were eons ahead of the United States, offering a sampling of pasta, wine and confections, which you unabashedly stocked up on. You sheepishly entered the small movie house, balancing an array of popcorn, snacks and wine, the latter of which was offered from a soda-like dispenser. Your international travels were already getting off to a GREAT start. You gazed around the room appraisingly, surprised to discover that you had the movie house COMPLETELY to yourself. 

Bellisima.

Indulgently plopping down in the absolute center of the room, you nearly squealed like a little girl when the projector clicked to life and the room darkened in response. This was only partially stifled when another figure peripherally entered your vision and began ascending the stairs. You weren’t overly concerned. Having visited Italy nearly 20 years ago, you had received more than your fair share of attention, but now, at 45 you were fairly certain you could blend into the background. It wasn’t until the curious stranger sat in the seat next to you that you glanced sideways with slight annoyance. Your heart immediately dropped at the sight of the standard Italian god that greeted you; well coifed, colorful, a curly mop of hair gelled into submission and a potent, but not disagreeable cologne that mixed with the heady smell of buttered popcorn. You weren’t sure why he had selected the seat immediately next to yours, but were momentarily distracted by his matching box of indulgent snacks. His face broke into an immediate grin as a handful of popcorn fell into your lap with his jostling.

“Popcorn, principessa?” he muttered, jamming a handful into his own mouth and licking the butter from his fingertips playfully. In another lifetime, you might have been irritated, but there was something immediately disarming about this man’s demeanor. You stalled, at the realization that he might not be Italian after all. Thankful he couldn’t view your blushing cheeks, you sputtered, 

“Oh I’m all set!” before wondering if he spoke English, and then realizing he was in the same movie as you. “Uh…par…parlare inglese?” you bumbled, spilling some Golia licorice into his lap in turn and grabbing at them haphazardly before flushing a dark shade of pink. “Scusi…”.

“Si!” he blurted out before wiping his hand embarrassingly over his face with chagrin. “I mean, yes!” He awkwardly grabbed your hand, shaking it emphatically and spilling still more popcorn over the floor and both of you. You both laughed good-naturedly as the movie was preceded by several Italian commercials you didn’t understand.  Settling into the gravitas of the cinematic experience, you quietly chewed your snacks, attempting to be demurely polite, but quite frankly you were starving. You were also immediately charmed by your unexpected movie date, as he uproariously laughed at the smallest jokes, nodding in agreement at the the most poignant dialogue. The snacks eventually discarded in satiation, you hadn’t expected the well of emotion towards the end of the movie, but that was nothing compared to your seat-mate. He was sobbing vociferously, his body quaking with emotion, when you finally reached over to tentatively pat him on the shoulder comfortingly.

“I…fucking…LOVE…this…movie…” he sniffled, between big gulps of air as you smiled knowingly to yourself. God, European men were so much more beautifully emotive than some of their Western counterparts. No wonder you had found yourself currently single in the States. You chanced a quick look at his left hand and found his wedding ring finger unoccupied, but internationally, did that even mean anything? Come on, woman, this isn’t “Only You”; get a grip. Just enjoy your new friendship and move on. You swiped at a few stray tears of your own before the lights gradually increased, leaving you both alone in the lightened movie house.

“Is that not the BEST movie you have ever seen? Without cinematic film star, Nicholas Cage, of course…” he oddly presumed, staring at you with saucer shaped eyes of warmth, a slight tinge of red dotting his cheeks at the corners.

“Uh…well, yes. Quite good, Much more emotional than I was anticipating” you admitted, shuffling your feet awkwardly.

“I feel the same way. It made me want to be a better man. I would even place it above towering films of cinematic greatness like “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”….or maybe even “National Treasure 2”” he observed dryly, taking in your inquisitive expression.

“National Treasure 2?” you repeated dumbly, blinking with curiosity at the tenure of your conversation. Who the hell was this guy?

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly bore you with my encyclopedic knowledge of the greatest actor, and my personal friend, Nick Cage” he blushed shyly, rubbing at the back of his neck with humility.

“You know Nick Cage?” you brightened, stumbling upon a fellow afficianado. You worked with artists all the time and loved discussing the creative process. That was the exact reason for your internship.

“Do you know him as well?” he turned his body to more fully face you, the fragrance of cologne intoxicating you slightly in response.

“Oh…certainly not. But I know OF him, he’s quite talented, and eccentric I believe…” you started before he launched into a cinematic info. dump.

“I find his artistic choices to be quite outlandish, but in a very stylized and curated execution…” as he began to wax theatrical for the next 20 minutes. You tried to remain focused on his discussion points, but you were equally distracted by his animated and appealing aesthetic, as much as the lateness of the hour. It wasn’t until you stifled a yawn and shivered slightly that he paused in his information monologue with a look of lamentation. “Oh, principessa, you are quite tired of my ramblings. Please, may I walk you home?”. He stood impressively above you, holding out his hand in inquiry.

You cleared your throat with some embarrassment, as the wine fueled evening crawled up the back of your neck with a seductive tickle. “Oh, certainly mister….?” you inquired, stumbling ever so slightly to your feet as he grabbed you protectively around the waist.

“Javi! You can call me Javi!” he intoned. You weren’t sure, but you thought he brushed a small, affectionate circle at your lower back, turning you towards the exit and guiding your steps. You weren’t one hundred percent sure it was a good idea to lead this stranger right to your door step, but you were even less sure you could make it there on your own, the inefficient osmosis of popcorn and wine happily buzzing inside you. Jet lag didn’t help. But the streets of Italy were warm and inviting, as children continued to play late into the night, and old men sat smoking cigarettes and drinking grappa.

You wrapped your arm warmly around his as he gripped you solidly around the waist. The combination of wine, jet lag and cobblestone streets was proving a challenge, but your newfound friend didn’t seem inconvenienced. If anything, he kept chirping about his favorite movies and inquiring about your own theatrical tastes. It was like something out of a movie, and you decided to give in to the romantic idealism, however short lived it might be.

“This is me” you blinked lazily, arriving at your apartment and happy to return to your queen sized bed. And doubly grateful for your new and unexpected friendship. Javi.

Javi beamed, a dazzling smile dotting his face as you unlocked the door hesitantly. “What time can I call on you tomorrow?” his question immediately poked you in the stomach as you nearly tripped over your own doorway.

“Wh-what?” you sputtered, butterflies immediately erupting in your abdomen and cascading into your fluttering heart. He looked back at you curiously, as you swayed slightly in the night air. “Uh…noon please” you found yourself saying, equally delighted and confused at the surprising turn of events.

“Excellent, we can continue our cinematic discussion, and I will bring my screenplay for your perusal” he stated matter-a-factly before leaning in confidently and kissing you just to the side of your lips, which curled in delight. You blushed at the welcome bristle of his beard as it tickled your face, before he pulled back slightly and inhaled pointedly. “Buona notte, principessa” he whispered before purposefully turning and jaunting down the cobblestone street, his arms swinging happily from side to side, as he disappeared round the corner as quickly as he had entered your evening.

You stared after him, not entirely convinced he wasn’t some sort of cinematic illusion himself. It wasn’t until noon the next day, as you blearily considered the friendly knock at the door that the realization began to dawn on you. Squinting into the sunlight, you gulped dryly at his reappearance, two espressos in hand, as he stood once again, on your doorstep. He seemed to lustfully drink in your disheveled head of hair and naked legs which peeked from beneath the large white t-shirt you had haphazardly settled into before bed.

“Javi?” you rasped, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and smiling dopily. It seemed your cinematic dreams had temporarily come to life.

“Buongiorno, principessa!” Javi beamed, shoving the espresso emphatically into your hand and downing his own in one shot. “What movie are we seeing today?” he beamed, removing his glasses and smiling broadly.

This might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship….

*Thanks @dornish-queen for the cool footage!

@littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pena's Pose

Thank you @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! I don't often like reposting my own work, because it messes up my dashboard. I guess Pedge and I run a tight ship, much like Pena himself, but occasionally he decides to let loose. Don't forget to check out our Afterglow Series that focuses specifically on intimate topics. Pena particularly enjoys "Workplace Benefits" and don't forget to listen to Pena's Playlist for the fully immersive experience. Narcos was absolutely amazing, definitely check it out if you haven't seen it yet....Pedge is heading to bed....

Friendly Frankie

Ooooh, @auteurdelabre told me they are working on a SECOND coloring book for us!? I'm not even done with the first! An embarrassment of riches! I don't write for Frankie very often, but when I do...I seem to be gushing about it. If you're looking for something saucy, don't forget to check out my "Moody Frankie Fic". Coulda used him last night....Pair it with Frankie's Favorites for the full experience and enjoy :)

Pedge's Bookshop The Confession

Grab a Pastry! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "A Baker's Dozen" @avastrasposts before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, implied PTSD/anxiety attack, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", sexy time snuggles, discussion of death/murder/suicide, nightmare, surgery recovery...This is the second to last installment of the series, which should place us at the ready for the LOU April release...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.5 k

The long trek home had taken just under an hour, including pauses for water and grumbles as Ellie rambled continuously.

“Hey Joel…” Ellie’s voice distractedly interrupted from the sidelines, as Joel huffed and puffed at his very own doorstep. “What’s the fastest mode of transportation?”. Joel gripped the porch stairs doggedly, as perspiration dotted his forehead and your fingers dug into the side of his hip supportively.

“Shut the hell up….” Joel growled, his patience long since evaporated as he stubbornly made the slow journey from the infirmary to his community residence.

“Guess it’s not you…” Ellie muttered under her breath, before shouting quite loudly, “The bullet train!” she guffawed, as Joel took several halting steps up the porch before yanking the front door open huffily. His heavy laden feet nearly caught the lip of the doorframe as you both lurched into the living room, eventually depositing Joel on the tattered living room sofa, with as much gentility as an avalanche. You knew it was important for Joel to hold on to his stoic self-belief, but his current physical limitations had all but depleted whatever reserves Joel housed. He was completely exhausted, and you were keen to help him start the healing process as soon as possible.

“Looks like you finally made it home, old man!” Ellie’s voice was a bit strained as she attempted to ignore her own insecurities about Joel’s fragile state. You smirked, knowing that her prodding was probably the best medicine for his combative soul. Maybe when things quieted down, you could offer the rest and relaxation Joel so desperately needed in contrast. “You seem barrel-y able to contain your excitement…get it? Barrel?” Ellie plopped down beside Joel on the couch eliciting a wince from his heated and pained expression.

“Jesus, Ellie I’ll be lucky if my stitches don’t rip, will ya give me a minute?” he grumbled, looking down at his abdomen tenderly, hesitant to examine the wrappings beneath his perspiration soaked flannel. It wasn’t everyday that a commune resident was recovering from surgery, let alone a gunshot wound, but after a week in the infirmary, Joel was nearly crawling out of his skin. Determined to go it alone, he had stubbornly refused a cane or wheeled transport of any kind, but had quickly ascertained the difficulty of his aspirations. Even with the commune’s significant stock of penicillin, it was going to prove a difficult month. He might have already done some damage, and he wasn’t even in his own bed yet. Joel gritted his teeth even harder.

“Sorry” Ellie finally quieted with a defeated tone. You reached up tenderly to wipe the sheen of sweat off his brow, as Joel closed his eyes tiredly, laying back slightly against the sofa. He was feeling every bit his 57 years, as a few stars dotted the periphery of his darkened vision. This might be something that tenacity alone couldn’t mend, and he would be grateful for all the help he could get, once he caught his breath. You watched Ellie’s countenance drop as the gravitas of the last week started to catch up to her. Joel remained unaware, so you offered a tight lipped encouragement from the other side of the couch. You would all get through this together. Some things just took time.

“I could go to the Tipsy Bison and get your favorite whiskey?” Ellie ventured, sitting up with the possibility of a task at hand. Joel smiled tiredly, his forehead already relaxing from the daunting escapades of the day.

“No way in hell they’ll give it to a kid…” his words slurred a bit as his body sank further into the couch.

“Wanna bet?” Ellie popped up jauntily from the couch, excited to put her pent up tension to beneficial use. “I’ll just tell ‘em we need it…medicinally…” as she headed out the door with confidence. You smirked with relief, glad to finally have Joel at home and resting for the entire month. The bullet hadn’t nicked any major arteries, and had avoided his organs, but the muscles were going to take at least a month to begin the mending process, and outside of antibiotics, there weren’t very many painkillers that the commune could offer. You were about to expand your expertise from teaching to nursing, and didn’t mind one bit. Joel’s breath steadied evenly in his chest as you delicately stroked his forehead and scalp soothingly. Content to stay there for the rest of the evening, you watched his face carefully for the next 15 minutes before his body jerked awake with newfound adrenaline. His eyes flashed with temporary disorientation before clasping your hand and holding it tightly to his chest.

“Had the worst nightmare…Somebody shot me, and Ellie wouldn’t shut up” he drawled, closing his eyes again and massaging your hand with affection. Leave it to Joel to be joking and taking care of other people, when he was the one in pain.

“Oh that would never happen…” you relaxed into the side of his body, tilting your head against his shoulder with ease. “Ellie is so soft spoken…” you teased, noticing the graying dusk of early evening begin to shadow against the living room window. “Think we can get up the stairs to bed, mister?” you questioned, giving a light kiss to the edge of his broad shoulder before catching his beleaguered and mischievous expression. 

“Thought you’d never ask, Teach.”

Certainly, this wasn’t the time to be indulging particularly fantasies in the bedroom, but you couldn’t help but eagerly anticipate the closeness this might provide for you and Joel. It took another 30 minutes to hesitantly ascend the stairs, but you finally deposited Joel in his bed and began removing his boots amidst his protestations. 

“Will ya quit babying me? I’m fine…” Joel complained, starting to unbutton his flannel and gaze curiously at the wrappings across his abdomen. Your eyes greedily took in the hair peppering his broad chest and belly button, up until the area shaved from surgery. You gulped hungrily, wrenching his boot off and depositing it at the foot of his bed.

“Are you going to be this ornery the entire month?” you accused, not altogether surprised. You had interacted with many a stubborn man, but Joel seemed to take the cake. The stauncher the patient the harder the fall, you surmised, batting Joel’s hand away and exploring the wrappings yourself. There was a bit of spotting from the arduous transport, and Joel was due for dinner and a round of penicillin. “How much are you going to argue if I suggest a sponge bath?”. Joel’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers, as he grew immediately self conscious of his body and glistening skin. His cheeks reddened slightly as he considered the possibility.

“I mean…I don’t…complain about everything…” his visage gained a boyish quality as he bit his lip and started fumbling with the nearby blankets. You smiled appreciatively. Score. Most men were big teddy bears, after they raged against the dying of the light. You peeled the wrappings back as Joel pouted bitterly.

“Alright, let’s get some food in you so you can take your medicine, and then we’ll make sure someone is set and cozy for bed” you offered, before Joel desperately grabbed at your hand, looking deep into your eyes.

“I….’preciate it” he managed to get out reservedly, as his eyes finally softened in the darkening room.

“My pleasure” you countered, leaning in for a tender kiss before heading downstairs to the kitchen, and stopping at the door way. “DON’T…” Joel paused mid exploration as you leveled your eyes skeptically in his direction “…paw at those wrappings until I come back, understand?”

“Yes’m” he quipped, though you weren’t entirely sure if he were joking. With or without Joel’s help, you were going to relish your new role as private commune nurse.

The days passed slowly, but delightedly as you nursed Joel back to health. The surgery had preceded your normal Spring Break, but in an unexpected turn of events, the commune had allowed you and Ellie to assign reading and creative projects on a weekly basis. With your permission, Ellie had even assembled class for a few hours once a week to help the students’ progress. You grinned, imagining Ellie’s lack of diplomacy as she regaled you with her first foray into instruction, accidentally making one student cry over math permutations and counseling another on the finer points of dealing with bullying. Apparently her first admonition was to just ‘punch the sucker right in the nose’, but having thought better of the ramifications for an eight year old, eventually encouraged them with subtler points from “Crime and Punishment”. You chuckled sweetly, rolling your eyes as Ellie sat on the edge of Joel’s bed, recounting the school day's events. 

“That’s my girl…” Joel nodded curtly, looking helplessly around the room and picking up his copy of “Crime and Punishment” once again. Within the week, he had caught up to Ellie’s literary progress and both of them were nearing the completion. Mostly absorbed with Joel’s recovery and the ongoing school year, you hadn’t yet broached the tender topic of Elk Creek or any of the unresolved questions that Ellie’s previous confession had elicited. 

She was immune. But how far did that immunity extend? How long would it last? And most importantly, was there any way her immunity could be duplicated? You didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, and alongside the immediate concern of Joel’s well-being and emotional wellness, you couldn’t perseverate too long. But if the three of you wanted a future together, there were some tough conversations ahead. Maybe you could help in more ways than just soup and sponge baths.

“How’s The Bookshop holdin’ up?” Joel asked for the umpteenth time, shifting awkwardly in the bed and grumbling at his limitations. He hated feeling helpless, and it was taking every iota of his strength to remain sedentary in the recovery process.

“Pretty good. Think we’re about ready for openin’ whenever you are” Ellie guessed, drawing the blanket between her fingers appraisingly. “Rascal might even host if you’re not feelin’ up to it” she joked, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back smugly. 

“It’ll be a cold day in hell ‘fore that happens” Joel’s drawl intensified as he sat up taller, attempting to hide the momentary discomfort of shifting positions. Recovery was hard enough, but with no pain killers, you didn’t envy Joel’s challenging position. You were glad to help in any way that you could, watching Ellie’s face falter with hesitation.

“Shit, I forgot to feed him after class today” she observed, shrugging guiltily before standing up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…” she playfully punched Joel’s outstretched foot before squeezing your shoulder warmly and heading downstairs.

“Maybe sweep the floor while you’re there!” Joel called after, before grinning sheepishly in your direction. “Builds character…” he joked, settling further back in the bed, and patting the space beside him. “Back to our reading nook?” he tantalized, grabbing the pair of glasses he used for reading and lovingly fingering the pages of “Crime and Punishment”. You all but squealed with delight, being careful not to jostle the bed too wholeheartedly and delicately placed yourself in the crook of his embrace, resting your head softly on his shoulder. Draping your leg tentatively over his you sweetly placed a hand near his abdomen, willing the recent wound to continue mending. This wasn’t the moment for sexual intimacy, but sharing this last week with Joel had offered a tenderness your past relationships never could. You sighed contentedly as Joel returned to his reading selection.

“Don’t give Snake Eyes that goofy accent again” you chided, giggling quietly to yourself as Joel looked down his spectacles at you with skepticism. 

“Don’t like my Russian accent darlin’?” he teased, rocking you slightly and grunting with the effort. Joel cleared his throat and began again as you relaxed into him. 

“He seemed hardly to know what he was doing. He could not stay still or concentrate his attention on anything; his ideas seemed to gallop after one another, he talked incoherently, his hands trembled slightly. Without a word Sonia took out of the drawer two crosses. It’s the symbol of my taking up the cross, he laughed. As though I had not suffered much till now! Well, now I am going to prison and you'll have your wish. Well, what are you crying for? You too? Don't. Leave off! Oh, how I hate it all! But his feeling was stirred; his heart ached, as he looked at her. Why is she grieving too? he thought to himself. What am I to her? Why does she weep? Why is she looking after me? I am a murderer. He trembled, remembering that. And the hopeless misery and anxiety of all that time, especially of the last hours, had weighed so heavily upon him that he positively clutched at the chance of this new unmixed, complete sensation. It came over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and spreading fire through him. Everything in him softened at once and the tears started into his eyes. He fell to the earth on the spot. Raskolnikov at that moment felt and knew once for all that Sonia was with him for ever and would follow him to the ends of the earth, wherever fate might take him. It wrung his heart…”.

Joel sighed heavily, looking down at your resting face, expecting you to perhaps be asleep, but a single tear was cascading down your cheek as he reached down to wipe it away. “My reading’ that bad darlin’?” he coo’ed, wondering at your emotion. Your voice came out more raspy than you intended, but the moment was upon you. “Joel…Can you tell me what happened on the way back to Elk Creek? How did…?” your voice stalled with hesitation, finally motivated by desperation and curiosity. “How did Levi die?”.

Joel swallowed dryly, taking off his glasses and setting the book down. “You sure you want to know?” he began, gripping your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. You nodded solemnly, your glassy eyes radiating in the late afternoon sunlight. Joel nodded once and continued. “It was the damndest thing. The whole trip he was like a mockingbird in a lonely meadow. Jabbering on and on, and asking questions about us. Not hardly makin’ any sense. Didn’t think I could feel sorry for that man, but he seemed right emptied out. Like he couldn’t think of anything worth living for” Joel paused, shaking his head with confusion. “Had to bite my tongue multiple times to keep from suggesting a quick exit, until….” Joel's breath hitched violently in his chest as he squirmed slightly with the memory of it.

“Until what?” you whispered, terrified to discover the revealing truth of that fateful day.

“Never thought I’d see a man more lonely than me” Joel observed, hugging you all the tighter against his side as you snuggled in for warmth. “Made me realize what my life could look like without you and Ellie at my side. We had our backs up against a wall, and Levi’s men were scattering left and right. And I saw it. Whatever flicker of rage or passion or fight he had left, just evaporated right in front of me. He ran headlong into the swarm of infected and that was the end of that”. The proceeding silence hung in the air morosely as you considered Joel’s words carefully. Death by clicker. What a way to go. Seemed counterintuitive to think of Levi as any kind of Savior. But maybe realizing that himself, Levi executed the only action that made any sense.

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’” Joel muttered under his breath, almost to himself as you shivered coldly. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until that very moment and it wasn’t a few minutes later you were drifting into a heavy sleep, weighed down by the confusion and exhaustion of the last several weeks, held firmly against Joel’s side protectively.

You couldn’t reach him. Struggling through a maelstrom of acidic fog you coughed and sputtered in the fluorescent glow. Where the hell were you? The entire bog seemed to reek of a sulphuric bitterness, you couldn’t escape. The books were crumbling, your willpower was waning. Weighted down by a nearly paralytic heaviness, you reached forward as a hand grasped yours firmly. Drawing it towards you, you saw the deteriorating and skeletal face of Levi, his bony fingers, interwoven with yours, pulling you down and down and down. The sticky atmosphere was muffling your cries as you sank further and further into the quicksand of ever increasing doubts…

Joel. Joel. Joel….

You jerked awake, finding yourself in the twilight of dusk, particles of dust floating through the air in hazy delicacy. Thank God. Joel. You turned to look at him in solace, but were crestfallen to see his own tumultuous sleeping expression, perspiring under the heated upstairs oppression. In sleep, his fingers twitched nervously at his sides as you swallowed dryly. “Joel?” you rasped ineffectively, his lips pursing in unknown words and nightmarish phrases. You tenderly reached up to touch his shoulder, remember your first encounter in the Bookshop. You didn’t want him to needlessly suffer, but PTSD was an exacting beast. You tried to gently rouse him from his torment, wondering where Ellie was and if you should call the commune doctor, when Joel’s eyes flew open wildly in horror. He immediately grasped his chest with terror, his breath hitching violently in his chest as you timidly placed your hand over his.

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…” you breathed steadily and soothingly as his eyes shakily found yours in the darkening upstairs bedroom. “You’re safe. With me. We are safe. Together”. You felt the strength of his heart beating powerfully against his ribcage as his mouth struggled to draw in one shaky breath after another. “Easy, easy…” you felt like you were coaxing a stallion or nursing a wounded animal. There were so many nightmares to choose from, how could you help one another escape?

“Ellie told you” Joel’s voice creaked out of him, as though on a wiry hinge, textured with gravel and broken glass.

“Told me what, honey?”

“Told you ‘bout the Fireflies…” Joel closed his eyes, trying to steel himself against a barrage of memories and unbidden images.

“She finally told us, in the hospital…” you began, before Joel sat up abruptly.

“The hospital…” he gasped, moving stiffly, attempting to get out of the bed.

“You’re not in the hospital anymore…you’re here with me…” you grasped him fervently around the chest, hesitant to rip any more stitches.

“You don’t….understand…”. He seemed almost delirious as you looked helplessly around the room for support.

“Will you lay still for me? Please? Let me get you a cold washcloth…” you negotiated, feeling his heartbeat ticking heavily and strongly against your forearm.

“They’re dead. All of ‘em.” his voice rumbled against your arm forebodingly as you paused in your struggle with him.

“Who, Joel? The infected? The raiders?” Joel continued to struggle against you, as you carefully straddled his hips with as much force as possible. “Honey, you’re gonna rip your sutures if you keep wrestling like that, can you please breathe for me?” you were reaching a point of desperation, amazed at Joel’s strength, even in repose, but determined to bring him back into the land of the living.

“I’m a murderer” he spat, writhing beneath you forcefully as you pushed down on his shoulders as hard as you could. You tried to ignore his words, recognizing his feverish incapacity, but startling nonetheless. The apocalypse had included so much death, what could he possibly be referring to? “In the hospital…I saved HER. I killed them all…”. He wasn’t making any sense; you had to get his fever to break.

“Joel, lie still!” your voice echo’d through the house authoritatively. You absentmindedly wondered if Ellie were within earshot as Joel immediately stilled in awareness of the edge in your voice. His pupils narrowed to a focused pinpoint as he grasped your face emphatically with both hands.

“The Fireflies” he wheezed, perspiration now dripping down the sides of his temples profusely. “They found out about Ellie’s immunity…and they tried….to kill her…in the hospital…” his words were a bit jumbled and halting, but the force of his desperation seemed to cut through the oppressive heat like a knife. This wasn’t an ongoing fever dream. Something about this was real. You gulped back tears of acknowledgement. “So I saved her….” his eyelids started to grow heavy with effort as his arms relaxed by his side. “I saved her…and killed me…”. His eyes shut with exhaustion, as his body finally stilled amidst the disheveled sheets, your body still atop him. His breathing eventually resumed an even pace, though his face seemed cemented in a pained expression of distress. You sighed with relief, checking his bandages, and wiping his forehead lightly with the sleeve of your shirt. But as you laid down next to him, the impact of his words hit you like a ton of bricks.

A murderer.

You could dismiss it, like his drunken admission. Another feverish nightmare, punctuated by an ill-advised confession. But. There was something about his words that seemingly rang true. And if it WERE true, who would know? And to what lengths would you go to protect the ones you loved? You gazed longingly at his profile, listening for sounds of Ellie in the empty house, but none materialized. 

It was just you, Joel…and the deadening silence of his confession.

@littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @anelva

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

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Pedge's Bookshop The Wound

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this literary collection from @obscurexsorrows "Recommendation" before heading into the Bookshop...

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", hospital environment, death, wounds, blood, spiritual concepts

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Your heart throbbed painfully in your chest, gripping your windpipe with a searing knife-like burn and you felt the icy pinpricks of the wintry air stab at your cheeks as Ellie raced behind you. Did you even dismiss the class? You suddenly realized you weren’t wearing your winter coat, having run out of the classroom blindly, and were still several hundred feet away from the infirmary.

Joel was hurt.

And truthfully, there wasn’t another substantial thought in your mind as your boots gripped the recent snowfall tenuously. What had Ellie said just a few moments ago? Only ten men had returned, and Levi wasn’t one of them. You didn’t have an iota of care for that man, but it only added a cloud of concern and fear to the already tense situation. What had happened?

Would Joel be okay?

You barreled through the infirmary doors, immediately feeling the shift in temperature and tone as pure chaos descended. There were men sitting on the floor, covered in blood and dirt. The limited pool of the commune’s medical resources were already strewn haphazardly around the small building as your eyes took in the scene before you. Every eye seemed to emanate guilt and anxiety, as you searched frantically.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

Stopping abruptly you were greeted by the doleful countenance of Tommy who was locked in heated conversation with Maria. You and Ellie rushed towards him, ignoring the subdued voices contrasted by medical yells of urgency. “Where’s Joel?” you bluntly questioned, interrupting Maria mid-sentence, immediately noticing the blanket of blood covering Tommy’s jacket. “Is that his blood? What happened? Did Levi do this?” the questions poured out of you like a tumult as tears streaked down your face. You were crying. When had you started crying? You didn’t care.

You had to get to Joel.

“He’s dead”.

The world stopped for a moment, tilting on its axis, as you stopped breathing.

“Levi is dead” Maria quickly clarified for Tommy as a small cry escaped your lips, unbidden. Your knees buckled slightly as the group steadied you with supportive hands.

“Where’s Joel? Tell me what happened to Joel…” you croaked, pleading with Tommy helplessly.

“It was a mess. An absolutely ambush” Tommy’s eyes glazed over tiredly. “Levi’s men scattered everywhere when we found the infected. Or THEY found us…” Tommy shivered slightly as Maria gripped his arm tenderly. “It’s my fault…” Tommy’s voice cracked in defeat as Maria shook her head defiantly. “I had the sightline, and I stood up, and Joel…” he swallowed harshly as you looked to Ellie who was uncharacteristically silent. “Joel got shot”.

Your breath came out in haggard rasps, looking desperately around the building. “Where…is…he?” you hyperventilated, prying yourself out of their grasp and meandering shakily. Ellie gripped your arm, heading towards the only examination room that existed as voices blurred around you. All of your senses were somehow merging into a myriad of confusing sensations and images. The people around you took on a bizarre, inhuman quality; their features distorted into a hall of mirrors. Sounds were amplified as though blaring through a sieve, and your skin was a heightened maelstrom of sensitivity and dulled awareness. Moving with the unadulterated force of a bullet you plowed through the separating sheaths of fabric until you found him.

He looked so small.

Your spirit was immediately arrested as all your senses came rushing back with the precision of a scalpel. Smell of iron. Cotton clean. Rusted blood red patches of cloth thrown on the ground. Joel was curled into the fetal position on a low cot, gripping his stomach protectively as Tommy and Maria followed unsteadily behind you. A slew of medical attendants were coming and going, and you immediately noticed a solitary bag of medicine precariously connected via IV. Resources were extremely limited, so the situation must be as serious as it looked. Joel’s shirt had been ripped open, giving you a clear view of the gauze that had been quickly wrapped and immediately soaked in his blood. It was a gut wound, and you knew from books how excruciating those could be. It was a miracle he was even conscious at all, and you wondered what IV the commune had access to.

“The prospects are good, but you know we don’t do surgeries very often…” Maria’s voice held a small quiver, possibly considering her own health concerns. The Jackson Commune would have a limited supply of antibiotics, penicillin and other medicines, but it was obviously for emergencies only. Living and dying had always been a messy business, but the apocalypse reduced everything to one or the other.

“Please, can I touch him?” your voice drifted out of you as though from another country, as the only doctor in the commune raced into the room to check Joel’s vitals.

“Make it fast, Teach…taking him in any second…”.

As though moving through quicksand, you found yourself outstretching your hands towards Joel, afraid to touch him. As though he were made of glass and could easily shatter at any moment, you touched your fingertips lightly to his face, watching his eyelids sluggishly flutter open. What pretty eyelashes, you obscurely thought, now mostly unaware of every other flurry surrounding the room.

“Hey Teach” Joel choked, his fingers twitching quietly over his abdomen, as you circled your thumb over his patchy beard. Dirt and grime had seeped into every crinkle, highlighting his sun-kissed wrinkles, but his eyes held the youthful fear of a young boy. “Tommy tell you I need an extension on my homework assignment?” he smiled tiredly, closing his eyes once again.

“Absolutely unacceptable” you whispered. “The moment you get out of surgery I’m subjecting you to a pop quiz”. You joked tenderly, reaching for Ellie’s nearby hand and pulling her into the conversation. “You don’t want this one to surpass you, right?”. Joel’s eyes shot open with a new awareness, immediately flooding with a host of tears.

“Sarah” he rasped before closing his eyes once again. Tommy lowered his head solemnly as Maria’s eyes widened in acknowledgement. You squeezed Ellie’s hand with encouragement.

“Go on honey, he’s just confused” you offered, catching the intensity of Ellie’s stare as she hesitantly stepped forward. Joel’s eyes fluttered open again with confusion.

“Tell ‘em…” Joel mumbled, his fingers quivering softly in front of him as you brushed a feather-light kiss over his lips before they took him down the hallway.

“Ellie, please…” he continued “Tommy already knows. Please. You gotta tell ‘em” his words started to slur slightly as you gazed helplessly around the room looking to the doctor.

“We gotta take him” the doctor stated, gesturing to the volunteers in the room who grabbed Joel’s cot by both ends gently.

“I’ll be here Joel…” you called after him, leaving the group standing impotently silent, the din of chaotic voices suddenly cascading in from the foyer.

“What did he mean by that?” Maria asked, looking to Tommy for understanding as you gripped Ellie around the shoulders bracingly. Tommy kept looking at the floor as Ellie maintained a tight lipped reservation in response to your probing gaze.

“He’s got to be okay” Ellie stated desperately, rubbing at her forearms with anxiety.

“He will be” you lied. In this moment, you were hanging on by the thinnest of threads, but were determined to offer whatever confidence you could muster. “He’ll be fine because he has to be”.

The group stood poised in silence until Maria broached the subject once again. “Tommy…what did he mean?” Tommy refused to meet her eyes, but glanced quickly at Ellie for confirmation. You gripped Ellie tightly around the shoulders, uncertain as to how to support in the best way possible. You knew he was medicated and nearly delirious, but his words seemed sincerely motivated.

“I…” Ellie halted, looking around the small room, as though expecting a myriad of clickers to come cascading through the doorway. “How much did Joel tell you about our escape from the Fireflies?” she muttered, nearly under her breath. You held your breath with nervous anticipation. This was it. This is what Joel was trying to protect. WHO he was trying to protect…

“Not much” Maria offered, a tinge of betrayal spiking her tonality. “Tommy won’t tell me any of the details, just says I should keep my mouth shut…” she grumbled, looking to Tommy with slight annoyance. Tommy and Ellie knowingly locked eyes, as you observed her clawing and voraciously itching at her forearm, as though trying to tear it off. A cry of anguish from the foyer jostled your group out of its tumultuous reverie, as Ellie shook her head with defiance.

“Just leave me alone…” she muttered, wrenching herself out of your grasp and heading for the exit. Maria breathed a sigh of frustration, clutching her abdomen protectively.

“I pushed. Pushed too hard…” she observed, throwing her hands up in supplication. “Damn it. Tommy why the fuck do you ever let me talk out loud!” she tried to jest, contemplating sitting on the floor and finally giving up with frustration. “I need to take a walk…” she grumbled, heading out the door before slapping Tommy across the back of the head, eliciting a small smile of acknowledgement. Tommy’s eyes stayed locked to the floor.

“Women” he smiled, one small tear falling to the floor and dotting his dirtied boot. You grabbed his hand lovingly, nodding your head. Emotions were running high, including your own. You genuinely believed that Joel would pull through, besides which you couldn’t stew any longer in your own anxiety.

“You’ll be here?” you asked, watching Tommy shuffle his feet awkwardly.

“Not going anywhere” Tommy stated matter a factly, before giving your hand an exhausted squeeze.

“Okay, let me talk to her…” you offered before casting one final glance in the direction of the surgery room, willing Joel to sense your telepathic concern.

Joel. Fight. Fight like a motherfucker. I can’t lose you. Not yet. Fight. We need you. I need you.

You turned on your heel and headed out the door, knowing the one place Ellie would go for solace. Trudging through the cold and rain which had turned the previous snow to a dirtied sludge, you were quite a distance from The Bookshop. Finally alone with your thoughts and overwhelming emotions, one reality bubbled to the service with stark clarity;

….Levi was dead.

You weren’t exactly pleased, but wondered at his unexpected demise. Is it possible that Joel had something to do with it? You batted the thought away with annoyance. But with Levi’s death came the completion of a chapter of life that had long since ended. You were thankful for the closure, and desperately wanted to talk with Joel. IF he was able. You winced painfully, shoving those intrusive thoughts out of your mind as quickly as they appeared. Nearing the Bookshop you already saw the telltale signs of the woodburning stove and pacing tom-cat. It just wasn’t Rascal this time, it was Ellie. You approached cautiously, the bell at the door muffling a somber sounding ‘ding’ as you pried the door open tentatively.

“Can I come in?” you ventured, spying Rascal the Cat who was similarly peeking its head from behind the bookshelves. Ellie didn’t respond, just continued her cyclical pacing around the room in a flurried fashion. You shut the door behind you, backing up against it so as not to frighten her unduly. Ellie made another loop around the totality of the Bookshop as Rascal eyed you both suspiciously. Whilst obviously aware of your presence, Ellie seemed undeterred from her meditative flurry as she muttered something under her breath.

“Endure and survive, endure and survive, endure and survive….”

It took you a couple passes to gather what she might be repeating as she continued to scratch at her forearms, so you decided to take up residence in the foyer armchair, wrapping the quilt around yourself protectively. You were thankful to be distracted by your care for Ellie, otherwise you might have crawled out of your own skin waiting for the surgery to be successful. After a few minutes you decided on a different tactic.

“Have you arrived at the confession yet?”.

Ellie’s circular path halted, placing her behind a bookshelf, effectively hidden from your sight. You had struck a chord. Maybe if she couldn’t immediately make her own confession, you could arrive at via literary resources.

“Of course, Rascal tries to make his confession multiple times before he finally succeeds with Sophia…” you continued as Ellie’s mantra resumed, albeit at a slower tempo.

“Endure and survive, endure and survive…”.

“When Rascalonikov finally confesses, he moves from a place of human isolation to Divine consummation. Much like Lazarus, he begins to participate in his own rebirth; his own moral resurrection, rejoining the community via his own suffering and eventual redemption…”. Ellie quietly stopped pacing as Rascal the Cat nearly bumped into her calves and stared at you with a fixed intensity. “Just don’t tell Joel, I don’t think he’s read to that part yet…” your voice finally wobbled with emotion, allowing the smallest thread of reality to seep into your periphery.

Rascal the Cat slowly began stalking in the opposite direction, as Ellie attempted not to trip.

“And when he eventually does, a lot of it is steeped in anger and bitterness…”. Ellie remained undeterred in her pacing, but the words dulled to a non-existent roar. “That’s one of Dostoyevsky’s main points, regardless of society’s aversion to it, the true human of conscience can’t escape their own Divinity. Morality becomes it’s own punishment…and salvation…”. You were just winging it here, but how many lectures were born out of spontaneous desperation? Pouring your fervor and anxiety into the one beneficial thing you could helplessly do, was less of a decision and more of a reaction. Rascal the Cat had finally ceased his opposition and trotted merrily behind Ellie in her slowing circle of perseveration.

“If you had the power to save Levi’s life…would you?” she rasped, Rascal plopping down on the floor lazily and beginning to play with Ellie’s tangled shoestrings. Your mouth fell open dryly as the pit of your stomach dropped to the floor abruptly. An unexpected bout of tears immediately sprung to your eyes as the room stilled with a newfound, pulsing heat. You grasped helplessly at emotions you obligated yourself to, contrasted by the confusing substantiality of what was. Waiting for your response, Ellie delicately walked towards you, seating herself at your feet and looking out the main foyer window pensively. “If somehow you had the power to save, even the worst of these…would you do it?”.

You closed your eyes with consternation, Joel’s small, pained form seared into the recesses of your mind. Could both seeming dichotomies be true? Were punishment and salvation so inexorably entwined that humanity could never distentangle them?

“I think…” you cleared your throat from the emotion-filled rasp that greeted you. “I think…I somehow hated Levi enough to WANT him dead, but would do almost anything to keep him alive. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. But that doesn’t make it any less true…”. You collapsed back into the chair with exhaustion as Ellie laid her head against your leg with a restless, contentment. Rascal jumped into your lap, settling himself for a catnap as the snow began to drift lazily across the cold, foyer window. And that’s how you stayed, until the bell rang loudly at the Bookshop Door with Maria’s rushed entrance. You didn’t know when you had all fallen asleep but the specks of whitened snow were now dotted against the darkened, evening sky.

“Joel’s out of surgery!” Maria’s voice jarred you from your tumultuous reverie, as adrenaline kicked your heart into a flurry of activity.

Joel was awake.

Running into the infirmary, ghosts of the previous chaos hung lightly in the air, as you noticed a handful of men, sleeping quietly in corners or speaking in hushed tones. Piles of bloodied rags and emptied IV bags were piled haphazardly outside of the walkway, as Tommy barreled towards you and Maria. “He’s asking for you both” Tommy sighed with relative relief, holding Maria’s hands and stifling a wash of tears. “They removed the bullet, and if we can hold off infection, he should make a steady recovery” his voice trembled with emotion as Maria nodded her head with encouragement. “It’s good that we’re both the same blood type” he smirked with chagrin. “‘Seems only fitting if I got Joel nearly killed out there, that I should have something to do with his recovery”. You smiled with gratitude, grasping Tommy’s forearm and then heading tentatively into the make-shift recovery room.

Seeing Joel’s skin in a grayish hue, but his otherwise serene expression, dotted with a slight sheen of perspiration was a mixture of solace and concern. But he was safe. Ellie took your hand shakily as intently watched Joel’s chest rise and fall in steady breath. The four of you stood poised at Joel’s bedside, somber and quiet. It was quite a bit of time before Ellie’s voice tentatively emerged.

“I have to tell you…” she whispered, barely audible, as Joel’s eyelids fluttered sweetly in medicated sleep. Maria pursed her lips stubbornly, determined to protect the fragility of the moment.

“Tell us what, honey?” you swallowed, not taking your eyes off of Joel. None of you wanted to disrupt the intimacy of your connection. You were alive. There was something about death that made living all the sweeter. Ellie slowly reached down and peeled back the sleeve of her flannel revealing the puckered and veined laceration of an apparent infection. Without meaning to, you dropped her hand reactively, bringing your hand up to your mouth with revulsion. Tommy closed his eyes and dropped his head to the ground, while Maria gasped in quiet surprise.

“Ellie, are you?…When?…” Maria’s voice was pinched and cautious as Tommy shook his head quietly, holding her fixedly in place.

“Let ‘er talk first…” Tommy’s voice graveled, as you grabbed her hand again in forced solidarity.

“Are you sick? Are you infected?” the words tumbled out of your mouth as Joel stirred slightly in the bed.

“I thought I was…” Ellie’s confession now poured out of her without hesitation or limit. “But I’m immune. Joel knows. He’s known for a while. That’s what we were trying to do with the Fireflies. We were trying to find a cure”. The words hung awkwardly in the air as Maria’s brow crumpled in disbelief.

“That’s what you’ve been hiding?” Maria looked to Tommy doubtfully as he remained stoically in place. Ellie swallowed dolefully, her eyes widened to saucer-shaped orbs of apology.

“There are others” Ellie blurted out, as Joel stirred once again, his fingers quivering at his sides helplessly, unbeknownst to you and the group. “I’m not the only one, but it’s dangerous for anyone to know. There’s no cure. At least none that we could find. We got out of there as fast possible once raiders descended on the hospital. Joel saved me. He might have saved us all” Ellie reflected, looking back at his stilled form on the gurney. “I’m sorry Maria” her voice broke with defeat. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up…for you…and the baby. But no one can know…” her shoulders sagged with overwhelm before Joel’s voice rumbled low and quiet against the stillness.

“Hey Teach…” he smiled tiredly, reaching a hand out towards you and Ellie as you both quickly moved towards him. “When’s that pop quiz you promised me?”. The five of you laughed with relief before Joel winced in relative pain, clutching his abdomen tenderly. You made quick eye contact with Maria and Ellie in knowing acknowledgement of discussions yet to be traversed. But not now. Now, was the time for healing and rest.

“Come on Joel” you sighed with reassurance. “Let’s get you home”.

Happy Pedro Hours Bouquets of Pedro!

Gosh, I wanted to do so much more for Valentine's but here we have arrived. I DO enjoy writing for Din, as per @beefrobeefcal Christmas Prompt. But I currently have my hands full with Pedge's Bookshop "Crime and Punishment" Series completion and Din deserves our full attention. I'm not sure if it's Platonic Love or not, but I always found Din to be ace-coded, so I enjoyed some beautiful @auteurdelabre coloring + a bitty poem to celebrate this Pedro Boy. Hope you are enjoying Valentine's and all things Love! Thanks @happypedrohours for the fun activities!

Platonic Love

Come, my love, and wrap the tendrils of your soul around mine Anchor yourself to the port of my storm Reach out for me, with the Divinity within, as I reach within for You I do not tether myself to you anymore Than we are already inexorably linked I do not entitle myself to a Love already realized And if we must lie together, let’s do so quickly, As though racing towards a reality already observed Reveal yourself to me, as I already know you, So that I may better divine myself Let us layer our bodies on top of The unspeakable euphoria and horror we must endure Let us divorce ourselves from ourselves, Taking one another without judgement or force Shed your armor and step into my ocean I will encase you, enhouse you, as unto myself, Forever relinquishing and forever devouring

*thanks @dollywons for the cool dividers

@joelmillerisapunk @i-own-loki @oliveksmoked @inept-the-magnificent

Pedge's Bookshop The Talk

Bookshop: As per your recommendation, Joel is our shop owner. I think there's something appealing in a man who says little, but obviously feels so much. I just finished reading Pedge's rec for "Crime and Punishment" and it's a doozy. Joel has a lot...or very little say about it.

Triggers: spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", "Last of Us" canon, profanity, gun, sexually threatening situation, cat allergies...

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

“Now, just because Teach is comin’ to the house more often, don’t mean that she’s like…your mom or somethin’…”.

Ellie winced awkwardly hearing the stilted words fall out of Joel’s mouth in his decidedly Southern drawl. This was easily the most uncomfortable conversation she had ever had. What topic was he going to broach next, the birds and the bees? Watching the reddish tint creep up Joel’s neck, now reaching to the tips of his ears, Ellie saw a rare opportunity to rib him a little.

“Just one question…” Ellie somberly muttered, casting her eyes deceptively downward to the bookshop floor hearing Joel’s gruff affirmation in response. “If your condom breaks, does that mean I get a little brother?” Ellie’s mouth turned upward in mischief, watching the crimson hue completely drain from Joel’s chagrined face as he froze in temporary emotional paralysis.

“Maybe we can call him Rascalnikov for short?” Ellie teased as Rascal the Cat quipped its head to the side in curiosity. Joel’s face registered a millisecond of recognition before he exhaled the breath he had unknowingly been holding, chuckling softly under his breath.

“Fuckin’ teenagers” he muttered, his shoulders quaking slightly with laughter. “Look, unless you want an earful, just get home a little later tonight, okay? Me and the Teach are gonna have some adult time…”

“…Discussing literature?” Ellie interrupted, kicking at Joel’s booted foot playfully.

“…Discussing LITERATURE, among other things” Joel continued wryly. “But this is all real new, and we don’t want to rush into anything that…”

“…Makes us extremely uncomfortable” Ellie continued to jest, rolling her eyes clairvoyantly. If Joel was determined to drag this conversation out, then she was going to have her fun with it. Ellie was actually excited to form more of a connection with you. In your conversations you had already formed a connection, and your response to her had been so welcoming and inclusive. Besides the sharing of clandestinely housed secrets, in you, Ellie had found a mentor, a friend and a teacher. Someone who understood the darker parts of humanity, maybe even of themselves, but didn’t shy away from it. And Ellie desperately needed more people like that. But she wasn’t done humiliating Joel while his soft underbelly was exposed.

“You know there are lots of ways you can be intimate with someone, without risking a pregnancy…” Ellie continued watching Joel’s jaw lock with embarrassment. “I’ve been reading some VERY educational material here at the Bookshop that Maria and Tommy should DEFINITELY have read…”.

“Jesus Christ” Joel wiped his hand over his face with annoyance. “Are ya done yet?”

“Oh I’m just gettin’ started” Ellie razzed before acquiescing to his point.

“Just…nothin’s changin’. It’s still you and me” Joel’s eyebrows pinched in the center of his forehead with real concern as Ellie considered his words carefully.

“All jokes aside…it’s okay” Ellie hesitatingly pondered. “I like Teach a lot, and so do you. But things are gonna change. Things always do. We’ve just gotta make it our business to change with ‘em.” Ellie nodded her head curtly as though agreeing with herself. She had already lost enough in this world to know how temporary things could be, and knew that life was meant to be lived. Hesitate for even a millisecond and your entire existence was a flash in the pan. Ellie wasn’t going to go out quite so easily.

“How’d you get so smart?” Joel mumbled, kicking back at Ellie’s foot good naturedly. 

“Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain?”

Joel stalled in confusion, squinting his eyes skeptically.

“His goal was transcend-dental-MEDICATION” Ellie paused triumphantly as Joel brought his hands to his hips with defiance.

“I’m leavin’”. Joel grabbed his winter coat heading for the door huffily.

“Atheism is a non-PROPHET organization” Ellie called after Joel as he stalked past her gruffly shooing Rascal the Cat out of his way deftly.

“Be home by 10, BUT NOT BEFORE!” Joel reiterated, flinging the bookshop door open, a hefty bounce in his step she hadn’t previously noticed.

“Hope you get an ‘A+’!” Ellie managed to get in before the bookshop bell sounded cheerily and Joel was out the door and headed home. She smiled to herself victoriously, looking around the Bookshop happily.

Good for you old man, she chuckled, heading into the back room to grab another stack of books. The store was nearly assembled, and despite Joel’s grumblings she knew that he was anxious to open it, not just for the rest of the commune but for the admiration and encouragement of his favorite customer; Teach. All that remained was a special exhibit featuring the Book of the Month, “Crime and Punishment”. Options were still limited, but the display would include a dirtied copy of “Anna Karenina”, “The Master and Margarita” (which was unfortunately in Russian), and a collection of short stories featuring Chekhov. It was somewhat miraculous they had the options they did, so Ellie was smiling as the bookshop bell rang upon her re-entrance to the main lobby. “Forget your condoms?!” she chided, now hearing the tell-tale hissing of Rascal as her stride was abruptly halted in revulsion.

Levi.

What the hell was he doing here? She looked around the Bookshop noting her avenues of escape, and was continually grateful for the wide open window transparently showcasing their interaction. However, the backroom now forebodingly loomed behind her. She resumed her confident path to the front counter, pocketing a nearly dried out ball point pen. “What do you want, Levi?” she spat, mirroring Rascal’s aggressive reception.

“Ain’t got to want something to visit the commune bookshop” Levi retorted, dragging his dirty fingers along the display shelves and kicking at the cat with annoyance.

“Well, we’re actually closed, so why don’t you come back when you learn how to read” Ellie responded sweetly, gripping the pen abrasively in her small hand. This felt terrifyingly familiar, and she wasn’t going to lose the upper hand. No one was coming to save her, and she was all too ready to take care of herself.

“Well ain’t you got a mouth on ya?” Levi judiciously appraised, picking up the showcased copy of “Crime and Punishment” and tossing it unceremoniously back on the table. “You remind me of the Teach, when we first met”. Ellie bristled noticeably whilst battling her own curiosity. Levi was no friend of hers, but knowing more about the Teach and her background was an interest she couldn’t deny.

“I’m surprised she didn’t run circles around you” Ellie bantered, watching Rascal bob and weave like a feline prize fighter, ineffectively batting a small paw at Levi’s boot.

“Can’t say she didn’t” Levi offered, his hands outstretched plaintively. “But surely you know, sometimes circumstances force our hand. Most people would be willing to do whatever it takes to survive”.

“Endure and survive” she almost whispered.

“I like that!” Levi feigned enthusiasm, now drifting behind one of the tall bookshelves, his voice eerily echoing in the Bookshop. “Endure and survive!” he re-emerged, peaking out from behind a different bookshelf, now several paces closer to the front counter.

“What do you want, Levi” Ellie growled, shifting a few feet closer to the doorway and trying to situate herself nearer the exit. 

“I’ve got my eye on you…and Teach” Levi threatened, contrasted by his all but beaming countenance, as he edged closer. Rascal latched his serrated claws onto Levi’s tall boots, but found him undeterred.

“What is that supposed to frighten me or something?” Ellie countered, gripping the pen harder in her now sweating hand. She could go for the eye, or the jugular if she had the right angle. Maybe Rascal could prove a worthy distraction.

Levi reached to the side, donning a small revolver that he brandished in front of him like a toy. Ellie’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers. Leave it to her to bring a ball point pen to a gun fight. What could he possibly gain by shooting her in broad daylight? He couldn’t be serious. Levi was many things, but crazy wasn’t one of them. Before Ellie had a chance to register what was happening, Levi slid the gun across the counter proffering both hands before him in surrender.

“Thought I’d lay all my cards on the table, before you had a chance to doubt my intentions” Levi drawled, leaning on the opposite end of the counter and ignoring Rascal’s hissing and caterwauling. “How old are you anyways?”.

“Too young for you” Ellie bluntly stated before greedily grabbing the gun and pointing it in Levi’s direction. His eyes shifted darkly eyeing the barrel of the loaded gun and licking his lips slowly. “‘Sides I don’t date psychopaths” Ellie joked, waving the gun towards the door. “Get out of her Levi, before we both do something we’re gonna regret”.

The look in Levi’s eyes flashed a momentary dejection, as the cat finally abandoned its attack and slunk off to the back room in defeat. “Ya gonna shoot me, before you even know what I have to say?”

Ellie slowly cocked the gun, relishing the clicking metal beneath her fingers. “Fuck around and find out, Levi” she breathed deeply, focusing on what Joel had taught her about marksmanship.  

“Yeaaaaah” Levi’s honeyed voice almost smothered her with its poisonous sweetness. “You’d do it, wouldn’t ya? But I know somethin’ you don’t. You think you’re so special, like you’re the only one with passion or desperation?” Levi inched closer as Ellie backed up. “Nothin’ special about the will to live.  Saw it in Teach. Saw it in Joel. See it in you…” Ellie held her breath, considering her options. She’d killed before, and she could do it again.

“Go ahead. I like my girls fightin’” Levi stretched his arm towards Ellie as her foot unexpectedly caught on the lip of the rug. Without even thinking, the pull of the gun slammed back violently against her hand as a bullet grazed past Levi’s shoulder and lodged itself in the nearby bookshelf. Ellie’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead, a mixture of bravado and shock as she flung the gun back on the counter towards Levi’s surprised expression.

“I’ll be damned” Levi sighed, slowly taking the gun and returning it to the holster disappointedly. He sounded almost disheartened as he regarded Ellie with a newfound clarity. “Guess I have my answer” he sulked, giving one final look to the Bookshop before heading towards the door. “Maybe you’re not like Teach at all…” he appraised, casting one final look back before jerking the door open swiftly and ducking out. Ellie gripped her chest anxiously, as Rascal the Cat poked its head out from the backroom, meowing with uncertainty. 

“It’s okay, he’s gone” she muttered, rounding the corner and laying a finger to the bullet lodged in Joel’s fine workmanship. A small party of men went running down the main thoroughfare, ostensibly in search of the ruckus as Ellie winced with embarrassment. Maybe she would just keep this little altercation to herself. But one thing was quite clear; Levi was a threat to more than just her, but also to the lives of the entire commune and the people she cared most about. As far as Ellie was concerned, Levi couldn’t leave soon enough. She plopped herself down on the floor unceremoniously as Rascal sidled up next to her with encouragement, purring softly.

In this moment she was assured of her resolve, and had never felt so certain of anything. She would protect, and she would kill. She would do whatever it takes to keep her future lodged safely in the palm of her hand.

And she would do it, by any means necessary.

Pedge's Bookshop The Patrol

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet series, "A Girl Walks Into a Bookshop" by @oonajaeadira before heading into the store!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", alcohol, lots of talking, ambush, gunfight, nightmare, descriptions of death/loss, injury, blood..

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Joel listened to the steady thrumming clip-clop of the mare’s hooves, watching his breath perspire and evaporate in the cold wintry air. Truthfully, his mind wasn’t on the approaching task of securing the spring resources for the Jackson commune, or divining the nebulous intentions of the visiting posse on their tentative, circumstantial union. 

He was thinking about you.

The smell of your hair in the morning as it cascaded around him like fluttering wings. The soft, open part of your lips as you slept soundly in his bed. The crinkle of your nose as you awoke in the approaching day. And he wondered if the soft hums you made in your sleep in any way would mirror the sounds you would make otherwise. He shifted his body, suddenly contrastingly hot against the morning air. Breathing deeply, he refocused his eyes on the surrounding nature before him. Tommy rode several paces ahead and the group had already made good time on the second of their three day journey. The trip had been relatively uneventful, as they ventured to meet the tradesman at Elk Creek

The only wild card was Levi.

Joel’s body stiffened at the mere thought of Levi’s presence and his suspiciously friendly demeanor on this forced expedition. It was quite bad enough that Levi had unceremoniously revealed your previous employ as an escort. Joel did not judge, having made some nebulous choices in the name of survival. But Levi’s insidious and stubborn attempts to ingratiate himself, not only to the Jackson commune but to the Miller Family in general, set Joel’s teeth on edge. As though telepathically summoned, Joel heard the telltale percussivity of Levi’s aggressive galloped approach.

“Man of few words” Levi quipped, slowing his steed’s gait and sidling up alongside Joel’s unwilling stature.

“Let’s keep it that way” Joel retorted, gripping the leather a bit tighter and unsuccessfully attempting to rein in his own hostility.

“Can’t ignore me forever, Joel” Levi countered, spitting needlessly to the side and sucking his teeth with annoyance. 

“Watch me” Joel muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Levi to hear and chuckle at sardonically.

“I like you Joel. You remind me of myself” Levi laughed as Joel gritted his teeth violently, swallowing hard. He would NOT be baited. “You might not like it, but I knew our girl way before you did. I know her in a way that you never will”. Levi’s words stung unexpectedly, as Joel was forced to consider the mutual anonymity that so many post-apocalyptic relationships were forced to endure. 

“I know her” Joel countered, craning his neck slowly and meeting Levi’s gaze. “And more importantly, she knows me. I’m someone she can trust, and that’s something you never were and will never be”. Joel returned to his stoic disposition as Levi paused appraisingly, regarding him with a look that bordered on admiration.

“You’ve got convictions is all” Levi reasoned, nodding his head curtly. “Something I never could afford” he rationalized, shrugging his shoulders with nonchalance. “Man’s gotta believe in something” he offered, almost as an afterthought. Joel quietly wondered if that were true. He thought on some of his own “convictions” and whether they were admirable or not. He refused to be drawn into a moralistic conversation with a man like Levi. What could possibly be gained? All that remained was to tolerate his presence, get the supplies, and get the hell back to the Jackson Commune, content in your arms once more. He didn’t know how he was going to incorporate Levi into this plan, but he didn’t have to. You were his future. You and Ellie, and THAT was all that mattered.

“Can’t say I’ve got many beliefs myself” Levi droned on, seemingly bored with his own conversation. “The only moment truly yours in the one in front of you, so I take advantage of every opportunity” Levi reached into a side pocket, removing a flask and taking a swig before offering it to Joel.

Idiot. Joel rolled his eyes skeptically before adding Levi’s shortcomings to the long list he had already assembled.

“More for me” Levi joked, taking another sip and pocketing the flask once again. “Can’t say I ever met a vice I didn’t like. What about you? You enjoying your time with the Teach?”.

Joel’s breath hitched in his throat abruptly, as he caught Tommy’s skeptical gaze from several paces ahead. This was no time for an altercation, but he nearly crawled out of his skin at the mention of you from someone so vile. 

“Don’t mean anything by it, just noticing. Teach bailed me out more than a few times when I thought I was SOL. She’s real dependable like that. It’s good you have each other”.

The contrast of Levi’s final statement sat in stark opposition to the rest of his potential diatribe. Joel inadvertently furrowed his brow with consternation. Was Levi trying to make nice? Was this yet another facade of friendliness, or ulterior motives? Or was Levi simply observing things as they were? Perhaps even as he wished them to be…Joel immediately felt his rancor flare up with a protective spirit.

“If you even think of touchin’ her…” he threatened, pulling up on the reins forebodingly. Levi followed suit, pausing slightly and allowing the group to cautiously move past. He felt the eyes of Tommy boring into him from several paces ahead, who had also stopped and was turning his horse towards them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Levi stated matter-a-factly, his face a staunch pallor of apathy. “Care more about my own self interest. Just sayin’ is all”. Joel started cantering again, only more perplexed than ever. Tommy turned back to the trail with trepidation, keeping an eye on the tenuous conversation. 

What was Levi’s game?

“Just see that you make yourself useful” Joel admonished. “There isn’t a world where you and I are friends. But, take it from me; any man so fixed that he can’t see beyond himself, may as well be alone.”

Levi finally settled into a quiet resolution, as though seeing Joel for the first time. “Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’…” Levi acquiesced, gazing fixedly at the horizon and moving ahead of Joel to join the rest of the group. Tommy took the opportunity to hesitantly double back next to Joel before questioning.

“What the hell was that all about?” Tommy cautioned, keeping his voice low and secretive.

“Don’t rightly know” Joel confessed, narrowing his eyes in skepticism at Levi’s receding figure. “Just know we can’t trust him. He’s more harm than good”.

“I’m surprised you didn’t deck him again” Tommy admitted, clicking his tongue encouragingly to his own steed. “I know I can’t trust HIM, but can I trust you?”.

Joel whipped his head around with surprise looking into Tommy’s doubtful expression. “What the hell does that mean?” Joel raised his voice before noticing some passing glances from the rest of the posse. “What the hell you on about?” he gritted his teeth conspiratorially, in a hissed whisper.

“Come on Joel, you’re a loose canon, always have been” Tommy kept his voice low and without threat, but there was an edge of candor that only a brother could inflict. Joel swallowed hard, begrudgingly admitting to himself the truth of Tommy’s words.

“You should talk” he grumbled, increasing his speed as Tommy hastened to catch up.

“You listen to me, Joel because I’m only going to say this once. You’re my brother and I love you, but there’s more at stake here than just you or me. I’ve got a family to protect and a commune to lead, and if Levi gets me one step closer to that goal, I’m willing to do whatever it takes” Tommy paused, hesitant to say more. Joel bit his lower lip, reflecting back on his own choices and the lengths a man will go to secure the future that he wants and protect the people he loves.

“S’not like family, Tommy” Joel growled. “You’ve always been an optimist, I’m just sayin’ you can’t trust someone just because they’re strong”.

“Will you give me a little credit, Joel?” Tommy unexpectedly lashed out, lowering his voice once again to avoid too much attention. “I’m not the little brother you left all those years ago” he accused huffily. “You take care of your family the way you see fit, and I’ll take care of mine”.

Joel swallowed the taste of bile, as memory after memory cascaded unbidden into his periphery. Holding Sarah as a baby, flashing on her small form cradled in his arms as she breathed her last. Coming upon Ellie, speckled with blood and terror. The feel of a gun housed securely against his shoulder blade. The smell of iron and gunpowder pervading his senses. He felt his chest lurch forward violently, attempting to stave off another panic attack, as your face floated serenely before his eyes; holding you passionately in the flurries of snow. The smell of dried flowers and bramble berry wine. The tears sprung to his eyes as he quickly took in Tommy’s guilty countenance.

“YOU are my family Tommy” Joel gravely whispered, feeling Tommy’s intense gaze at his shoulder.  “You and Maria…Ellie…and Teach…if she’ll have me” his voice trailed off timidly, not trusting himself to proceed further. Joel didn’t know much, but he had lived lifetimes of forced apathy, violently displacing himself from the power of his own emotion, and the people he loved had always paid the price. Now that he had a second shot at anything close to love, he was hanging on to it with both hands, even at the risk of strangling it. Somehow, he had to keep holding on, whilst simultaneously learning to let go.

“I don’t know what I’m saying” Tommy backpedaled, drawing his hand to the back of his neck with chagrin. “Sometimes I feel crazy, like Maria and the baby…it’s all slipping right through my fingers” he chuckled sheepishly, receiving a nod of encouragement from Joel immediately. 

“Maybe we’re more alike than I thought” Joel joked, reaching out to playfully punch Tommy in the gut. He felt the watchful gaze of Levi from afar, but didn’t pay it any mind. He couldn’t control the future. Hell, he couldn’t even predict the future. The only thing he could control was himself, and even that he wasn’t so sure about. He would have to keep relying on his instincts and let life do the rest. All he needed to do was get home to you. 

Home.

The group continued to make good time until they set up camp near the rendezvous point. Elk Creek had always been a great resource for trade and bartering, and Tommy was intent on getting an early start on the Spring gathering. They managed to find a cave that was interconnected with a quarry, setting up the first watch before settling in for the night. It was a large group of about 25 men, so they decided to risk a few campfires. In the seven years of the commune’s existence the Elk Creek Run had never proven to be dangerous until the recent events that necessitated the support of Levi and his disheveled band of journeymen. Wary of future altercations they decided to go on the offensive. Perhaps renegades would be hesitant to attack seeing a small militia of this fortitude.

Levi sat alone, his back against the rock, shadows eerily dancing and silhouetted against the quieting campsite. Hunched over protectively, he observed the friendly banter between men, casting a jealous glance towards Joel and his brother Tommy as they laughed by the fire. What made them so different from him? Why were their desires so much more noble than his? Levi knew desperation when he saw it, and survival in the apocalypse had only heightened the corruption and self-interest that already existed. It was just as well he was already well-versed in the art of self-protection. He’d always survived by his wits; card-shark, con-man, go-between. Any opportunity observed was an opportunity seized upon, and it didn’t matter who he had to manipulate, so long as Levi ended up on top. He hunched down further, bracing himself against the stolid rock face. Truth be told, the freedom of this ongoing anarchic existence provided Levi with a strange dichotomy of liberation and oppression. He was loathe to admit it, but it turned out that even hyper-independence had its own special distinction of isolation. Even tentatively joining the commune and engineering a shaky reunion with you had proven ineffective. Eventually, that same self-salvation seemed to destructively twist in on itself. Levi had long since passed the point of no return regarding his own apathy, but a spark of bitterness pulled at whatever heart strings remained, particularly when he looked at Joel Miller. 

They were the same. Weren’t they?

He gazed down at a small spider stretching itself across the gritty soil, unperturbed by the nearby flickering flames. Levi shivered slightly, repulsed by its alien exoskeleton. He leveled a heavy boot on top of its delicate filaments, his eyes shifting to another moving target to his right. An undulating centipede was crawling its way towards his arm, before Levi grabbed a large rock, hefting it sloppily forward. Looking over at his foot, a myriad of spiders suddenly cascaded from the original, pouring forth like an overwhelming quicksand of darkness. He hardly had time to register a horrified expression before feather-light touches of legs tickled his neck and shoulders from behind, spiders crawling like enigmatic tendrils as he stood shakily to his feet. Right before uttering a scream to high heaven Levi…

…jerked his head upwards from an unexpected stupor, breathing heavily, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The camp had stilled even more, though gazing several feet ahead, he saw Joel clutching his firearm fixedly, staring at Levi’s halting expression. Levi clenched his jaw with discomfort, scrambling for his flask of whiskey and downing the dregs in one terrified gulp.  Just a nightmare. Inwardly he scowled, abhorrent to admit his temporary lapse. Settling back in  for the night, he skulked forebodingly in the corner, reflecting on his future options. Maybe he could get Maria on his side. She was a shrewd leader, but similarly found herself with her back against the wall. It wouldn’t be possible to pull the wool over Joel’s eyes, but maybe Tommy was in Maria’s pocket. Nor would Ellie be dissuaded, and the Teach…Levi flashed on your angelic visage, his jaw pulsing with resentment. He felt certain that your shared background would ingratiate him and alienate you, but such was not the case. Somehow you had already managed to sway the commune to your side, and Levi was impressed. Reflecting on your smiling face, he caught the smallest micro expression of violence seeping into your countenance. As though temporarily vindicated, the expression expanded into one of sheer maniacal terror a broad, gaping grin splitting your mouth into an appalling void. A quiet, looming scream seemed to emanate from beyond his body. Was it your voice? Was it his? His body felt immobilized in quicksand as he struggled to escape his sleep paralysis. It wasn’t until a bullet grazed the rock face behind him that Levi sprung into an adrenaline fueled aggression. 

“Move!” Joel’s voice split the darkness, as Levi took in the chaotic, fire-lit reality that mirrored the nightmarish hell his mind had just escaped. Men were screaming and yelling as they ran purposelessly around the campsite, looking for shelter or solace of any kind. Levi’s head whipped around to the tell-tale shriek of an infected, grabbing at the gun in his holster and running towards the small remaining group of men, hunkered down in a small rock protected abutment that were motioning him in. Sliding into place with a dusty fury, Levi quickly clocked around 50 infected pouring out of the quarry, as though mimicking the spiders in his recent nightmare.

“Jesus Christ” Tommy muttered, reloading and looking around the disintegrating campsite. “Where the hell are your men going, Levi?” he all but screamed, watching several picked off by the nearby infected. Levi’s heart twisted violently in his chest. Everything was falling apart, and there was nothing that he could about it. The men wouldn’t follow his lead, they were as self-motivated as he was. The men of Jackson Commune were a stolid and well-led bunch, but they were about to find themselves significantly outnumbered if something wasn’t done. Joel shoved his way to the front of the group, picking off five infected in quick succession, and reloading his firearm as well. 

“What are you gonna do about it, Levi!” Joel bellowed, looking helplessly at Tommy and shoving Levi to the side. Levi closed his eyes tiredly feeling the knot tighten in his chest poisonously. 

“Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’” he droned, a dry smile passing over his lips as Joel looked on incredulously. “Tell Teach that she owes me one…” he quipped, holding his firearm lovingly and taking a deep breath before barreling forward suicidally.

“Son of a bitch” Joel muttered, trying to provide cover for Levi’s ill fated martyrdom but quickly realizing its futility. Levi managed to take down another 5 infected before vanishing in a dusty clump of writhing bodies and blood curdling screams. Tommy leveled another 3 infected from where he stood, as Joel reloaded as quickly as possible.

“Get DOWN Tommy!” Joel yelled, rising to his feet and shoving Tommy into the dirt before a searing knife-like explosion bloomed across his abdomen painfully. Tommy’s eyes widened in distress, viewing the steadily blossoming pool of blood flower across Joel’s stomach as he crumpled to the ground in anguish. Joel gritted his teeth stubbornly, his firearm clattering helplessly to the dirt, a flurry of hands and concerned voices darkening around him. He was thankful for the twisting exhaustion that deadened his entire body as he focused on your image with each labored breath. 

Home. Home.

It would only be a matter of time before he saw you again, whether in this life or the next. His mouth tiredly curled into a smile before darkness finally took him. 

Home. Home. Home.

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox 

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pedge's Bookshop The Storm

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Taste You" by @hellishjoel before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, this series will feature MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", lite smut, ex-type character, spiritual concepts, injury

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.3k

You drew a tentative single finger down the perspiring glass of water before you. The town hall cavernously echo’d, as your leg tapped nervously under the elongated table before you. Tommy shuffled his papers awkwardly as Joel placed a firmly solid hand atop your thigh, squeezing gently as you attempted to take a deep breath. This had been YOUR idea. Maria swallowed dryly, pausing to look at a non-existent watch and then softly chuckling to herself in defeat. Everyone had assembled except the least desired member of the discussion; Levi.

Once again you questioned your motivations, but with the administrative transitions coming up  and the anticipation of Maria’s pregnancy, it was more important than ever to solidify the safety and maintenance of the commune’s existence. You just never counted on it including Levi. Initially you had reasoned that his temporary presence might be nothing more than an inconvenience; a temporary setback when your past haltingly caught up with you. You had spent more than a few sleepless nights, wondering if his appearance was the harbinger of disastrous revelations, and indeed, it had culminated in more than a few protestations. The worst had occurred; and The Miller Family at large was all too aware of your questionable background and salacious past. But if anything, it had seemingly solidified their undeserved respect and acceptance of your assured position in the community. Tommy was overjoyed to provide Maria with extended resources, and Maria was holding her skepticism of Joel at bay with her repulsion of Levi in comparison. Ellie had all but started a campaign for your continued administrative duties, and Joel. Joel was the most surprising of all.  The layers of armor and emotional barriers had finally started to dissipate, as your own vulnerabilities came to light.

Not so with Levi. 

His moral apathy hung like a weight around his neck, dragging him and his posse to the forefront of patrol responsibilities, as they begrudgingly ingratiated themselves into town life. It was only a matter of time before the uncomfortable social bomb detonated, and you were hopeful that casualties could be limited, so you had suggested this clunky and currently stalled discussion to get a better idea of Levi’s intentions. Joel shifted with discomfort in his seat, as he glanced sideways and offered a perfunctory smile. His only motivation for being here was YOU, and offering whatever support or encouragement he could. Levi had set his teeth on edge from day one, but since that tumultuous altercation at dinner, Joel had managed to stifle whatever aggressive tendencies bubbled just below the surface. You appreciated his stolid presence, but felt the tension shifting between Maria as well. There were so many things unsaid, and you weren’t sure if voicing them would bring any clarity or unification. You just knew that things could not stay they way that they were. Finally, the door swung open as Levi strode confidently and loudly into the echoing chamber, fresh from patrol. Grabbing a nearby chair, he grabbed the available glass of water and downed it in several quick swallows before wiping his hand sloppily across his mouth and heavily sighing.

“Hey Teach” he smirked, squaring off against Joel who sat across the table and staring into Maria’s eyes as though questioning the barrel of a loaded gun.

“Thanks for joining us, Levi. I trust you and your group didn’t encounter any unexpected difficulties on patrol this evening” Tommy began, attempting to assuage the growing tensions.

“How could I? You’ve got me on such a tight leash I’m starting to feel like the commune bitch” Levi joked, casting a teasing glance in your direction before Joel cleared his throat menacingly. Levi paused appraisingly. “Nothing to write home about…” he begrudgingly jested, leaning back in his chair as though settling in for an interrogation.

“Tommy and I wanted to get a better idea of your long term intentions for commune residency” Maria engaged, setting her papers before her as though back in a courtroom atmosphere. “Joel tells me your patrol participation has been…satisfactory”.

Levi drolly smiled, crossing his arms smugly behind his head. You vaguely imagined him tipping over backwards, he seemed so pleased with himself. “High praise indeed” Levi sarcastically observed, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

“Your arrival was…well-timed” the words curtly exited Joel’s mouth. “Figure the same will be true for your exit” he quipped, his jaw ticking angrily beneath. You took a deep stilling breath before attempting to join the conversation.

“I for one, am very grateful for Levi’s support” you chose your words carefully, feeling Joel bristle beside you. “Nothing is more important to me than the people of this commune, and if Levi has anything beneficial to add, I think we should put it to the test”. You surprised yourself with the assertion of your tone, but encouraged by Maria’s staunch reinforcement. Levi’s eyes deceptively narrowed at the directionality of your challenge, and he sat up as though answering  a dual.

“Don’t matter to me” Levi nearly spat, knocking the table slightly with his body weight and relishing the small jump it elicited from you. “World’s been endin’ for a long time now. I’m just scopin’ out the best place to land” he licked his chapped lips defiantly. Maria nodded definitively, though Joel was shaking his head in silence. You felt as though you were poised between a rock and a hard place. Desperately wanting to protect Joel and the commune, but currently at the mercy of your own desires and insecurities. 

Tommy broke the tension deftly, “Alright, it’s a deal. One week from now we have our next scheduled resource rendezvous. Joel, you and I can lead a patrol at dawn, and Levi and his group can watch the defensive flank. What’dya say Levi?” Tommy stood to punctuate the offer, holding out a circumstantially forced hand of agreement. Levi stood to mirror him, spitting into his hand and grasping Tommy’s firmly in his. Joel gripped the table forcefully, a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode at any moment. Levi smiled with awareness, enjoying the mounting tensions of the moment. He feigned a two finger salute, “Be seein’ ya!” before striding back out of the town hall, and slamming the door behind him. The room audibly breathed a sigh of relief upon his exit.

“Are we really doing this?” Joel muttered under his breath. Maria’s gaze held a steely resolution, as Tommy sat down defeatedly. 

“It’ll be okay” you encouraged, taking Joel’s hand fixedly in your own, under the table. Perhaps the ends could justify the means. You were loathe to articulate the unspoken truth, but you no longer had the luxury of painting reality in any other light. The truth might be a bitter pill to swallow, but in the face of insurmountable odds the only thing you really risked losing was yourself. You flashed on a Dostoyevsky quote that the devil might not exist, but man has thus created him in his own image and likeness. But if you could save the commune…if you could save Ellie…if you could save Joel…it was worth it. However, the weight of your discussion settled over the table with a heavy foreboding.

Had you just made a deal with the devil?

Joel’s whiskers teased the sensitive skin of your neckline as you bumped precariously against one of the bookshelves. “You know, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have to keep revisiting the Arts and Recreation section…” you breathed, eyelids heavy with longing, as you temporarily paused his ministrations.

“Feels pretty recreational to me…” Joel teased, grabbing the lush shape of your backside, and caging you against the oaken wood.  The corners of you mouth hiked upward as you drew your hands lazily up and around his neck.

“I AM sorry about this upcoming patrol” you apologized, halting Joel’s salacious attention and watching the incredulity flood his features.

“Just protocol” Joel chastised, touching his nose lightly to yours. “We need the supplies, and if Levi can help us get it, we’ll use him in the process” he wisely advised, tightening his grip. 

You smiled cautiously, “Please watch yourself around him, Joel”.

“Always do, ‘xcept when I’m watchin’ you…” he joked, pulling you in for another kiss. You were about to admonish him when Rascal the Cat signaled an approaching customer. The doorbell chimed distinctly as Joel rounded the corner, deftly tucking you behind the bookshelf clandestinely. “We’re closed…” he began, before subtly bristling at Maria’s appearance. “Oh…uh…Maria….Everything alright?” Joel’s hand stayed behind the bookshelf, motioning for you to stay quiet.

“Sorry to bother you Joel, I had some commune business I wanted to run by you without a bunch of watchful eyes” Maria judiciously observed, clearing her throat authoritatively. You secretively held your breath, stilling your pounding heart. Should you announce yourself? You still felt a little unsure of your new administrative position, and Joel seemed content to keep your presence known only to himself. Perhaps you could do more good from the shadows…

“I hate to ask it, but…I’ve been talking to Ellie” Maria began, looking apprehensively around the room, as though expecting her to show up at any moment.

“Now wait just a goddam minute…” Joel retorted, leaving you behind in the back of the bookshop and moving towards Maria purposefully. 

“She just wants to join patrols, Joel. She’s old enough, and capable as hell, and you know it” Maria countered, shifting her weight awkwardly. She was getting closer and closer to a due date, and the pressure of that responsibility might be motivating her decisions unexpectedly.

“Don’t make it right” Joel stated matter a factly, nodding his head succinctly. You were already hesitant about Joel’s patrol participation, and weren’t keen to add Ellie to the mix. The last thing you needed was Levi influencing them both.

“I know you’re protective of her, but she watches you like a hawk. She only wants what’s best…” Maria chimed in as Joel folded his arms skeptically across his chest.

“Can’t do it” he argued. “S’not time yet”.

Maria sighed with defeat, placing her hands on her hips with a slight defiance. “Well,…you’re gonna have to explain that to her yourself, because she won’t leave me alone otherwise”. Joel nodded knowingly, anxious to drop the matter as quickly as possible. 

“’S’good training for your little one, whenever they arrive” Joel offered, widening his eyes sympathetically. He might complain about the responsibilities of faux parenthood, but it was apparent in all of his actions and words that Ellie was his pride and joy. He wasn’t easily going to let her out of his sight. You smiled affectionately.

“Ellie’s a lucky kid” Maria downshifted, heading away from the Bookshop Counter and within your diagonal sightline, though you were still relatively hidden behind the bookshelves. “I can see why she’s so special…” Maria seemingly taunted, fingering the nearby psychology section and drawing her words out precisely.

“What’dya mean by that?” Joel interrogated, a slight bite nearing the edges of his tone subtly. “What’d Tommy say?”.

“Oh nothing…” Maria toyed again, pulling out a copy of Sigmund Freud’s “The Interpretation of Dreams” and placing it back on the bookshelf in one motion. “Just seems like I can’t get a straight answer around here. From Levi, Ellie…YOU” Maria’s voice sounded neutral and passive, but there was an air of interrogation in it. Maria was a leader through and through, and if she seized upon something that raised a red flag, she reminded you of a dog with a bone. She wasn’t easily going to let this go.

You peeked from behind the bookshelf quizzically, watching Joel’s neck tick with discomfort. “Are you accusin’ me of somethin’?” Joel growled, his hands perched confidently on his hips. Maria turned quickly, with a judicious appraisal, bringing her hand to her stomach protectively. 

“You’re family Joel” she soothed, watching his shoulders relax infinitesimally, but still recognizing his guarded stance. “Tommy won’t ever betray the brotherhood” she smiled, rubbing a small concentric circle around her abdomen. “I just want you to know that…whatever you’re hiding, can’t be good for Ellie. It can’t be good for you or anyone else that loves you…” you shrank quickly behind the bookshelf, wondering if Maria somehow telepathically sensed your presence.

“The past should stay in the past” Joel lowly intoned, so quietly you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

“Maybe…until it drags itself into the light” Maria responded, stepping closer as Joel inched back. “You don’t have to suffer alone, Joel. Rid yourself of whatever you’re holding back. I know Ellie will thank you for it…”. You heard the stifled intake of air, as Joel responded to Maria’s firm grasp of his forearm. Rascal the Cat bumped up against your calve as you tried to shoo him away. Maria nodded curtly before departing out the door, a cascade of wintry air barreling inside juxtaposed by the no longer friendly chime of the bell. You picked up Rascal and slowly approached Joel who remained locked in introspection. Placing a soft hand on his shoulder, he still jumped at your light touch as Rascal scampered down onto the floor, heading to the foyer armchair.

“She’s right you know…” you murmured, tucking yourself into his side as he drew a tentative arm around your waist. “You’re not alone in all this” you encouraged, watching Rascal blink lazily atop the cozy quilt.

“S’not my secret to tell…” Joel rasped, his brows furrowed in concentration. “But…the time’s comin’. Comin’ for a reckoning…” he cautioned, swaying lightly with you enclosed in his grasp. You darkly pondered his meaning, looking forlornly around the nearly completed bookshop. 

“Gonna have to start letting people in soon” you remarked, smiling at Rascal and pointing to the perpetually “closed” sign in the doorway.

“Soon” Joel nodded gazing down at your face affectionately and pressing his lips lightly to yours. “Very soon…”

The rest of the week passed quickly, as you prepared for the upcoming patrol. You couldn’t calm the horrendous gnawing sensation that was eating away at you from within, but you knew that this was the next necessary step in finding solutions. You and Ellie commiserated more than a few times before the fateful day when Joel, Tommy, Levi and others would head back to Elk Creek to pick up the much needed monthly supplies. It was time to put this shaky union to the test. 

You were spending more and more time at the Millers, so it came as no surprise when Joel invited you to spend the night. His eyes twinkled mischievously when he confessed that he had already “talked to the kid”. While you giggled tremendously imagining the comedy of that situation, he had led you upstairs, inviting you into his bed. The night was filled with cuddling, laughter and kisses as you discussed your dreams for the future Bookshop. You were already excited to introduce your students to a new town library and Joel was already suggesting your next literary venture once “Crime and Punishment” was done. Currently it was the coziest Book Club for two, but there was a world where you could expand to officially include Ellie and other commune members who were interested.

While the ease of your rapport wasn’t surprising, Joel’s modesty was, blushing a bright red as you pushed your ass back against his hips. You felt him stiffen in more ways than one, as he chuckled shyly. “Can we wait a little darlin’?” his Southern drawl already had you melting under his touch as you turned your head to meet his gaze. “Wanna take my time with you, and if we…get together now, I’m not gonna last nearly as long as you deserve”.

You gulped with arousal, twisting your body to meet his and collapsing back into him. “Don’t need any more than this, Joel. But I hope I can motivate you to come back from patrol as soon as possible” you tantalized, grinding your hips against his as he inhaled quickly through his mouth.

“Don’t have to tell me twice” he teased, smashing his lips into yours for another passionate kiss. And so the night passed sweetly, encased in one other’s arms, housed in your den of solace. It wasn’t until the early morning hours that you awoke to Joel’s bristling beard at the nape of your neck signaling the start of the dreaded patrol. Entangled in one another’s embrace you tried to soak up every freckle, every wrinkle and every smile on Joel’s face, memorizing his visage as though wondering if you would ever see it again. Eventually you both begrudgingly lumbered down the stairs, meeting Ellie who had already prepared a hearty breakfast for Joel’s exit. You had expected the interaction to be more awkward, but Ellie was mostly focused on Joel’s safety…and arguing for her future participation when she was a bit older. You smiled tenderly at the easy conversation and teasing tonality. Please. Please. Let this be the start of my next story. Not the tragic ending of a narrative just begun. You caught yourself staring at Joel longingly, and trying to keep your thoughts focused on possibility, not tragedy.

And then he was gone. Grabbing his winter coat and supplies, you had all decided to keep the goodbyes short and unemotional. Joel would be back in three days. There was no purpose in histrionics or dramatics. Just another three days, and Joel would be back in your arms, and the commune would have more supplies and more resources for the long respite till Spring.

Three days.

Tapping your pencil nervously against the school desk you looked around at the cornucopia of students taking an impromptu test on agriculture and harvesting techniques. Ellie looked up tentatively to lock eyes with you. Three days.

You had a faint recognition of the Biblical telling of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Surely nothing else had felt nearly as interminable.

Two days.

Gone were the times of cell phones and emails. No news broadcast that allowed you to focus your attention on outlooks or predictions. Just Maria’s solemn face in the town meeting hall as you wordlessly nodded in her direction. The hours ticked by, as slow as molasses. You and Ellie had spent several hours, trying to wrangle the remaining refurbishment of The Bookshop before Joel’s return. Every evening, you had methodically read and re-read the confession of Rascalnikov and thought of Joel. Wondered where he was. Wondered at his safety. Wondered if he were thinking of you. The pages of your book started to fray and tatter slightly at the corners as you wore them down doggedly.

One day.

You were hesitantly happy for another day at school, desperately trying to focus on the current curriculum of World History and corresponding literature. You had already begun tantalizing the class with the promise of an upcoming field trip to the “soon to be opened” bookshop, with library options galore. You bit your lower lip in a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. Joel. Joel. Come back. Joel. You felt nearly crawling out of your skin. Where was Joel? Drawing your focus meticulously back to a description of the Civil War, it wasn’t until you heard the flurried footfalls of Ellie across the outer deck that your heart lurched with foreboding. Ellie flung the door open, pausing heatedly as the entire class craned their necks with curiosity.

“Come quick Teach, the patrol is back!” Ellie shouted, though your countenance immediately fell from enthusiasm to concern noticing the tear streaks lining her face.

“What happened?” you croaked, dropping the chalk to the ground quietly as the classroom collectively held its breath.

“Only ten men came back…there’s no Levi, and barely any supplies. Just come quick, Teach…it's Joel.

Joel is hurt.”

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox 

@wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya 

@schnarfer @devineconjuring @mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog 

@joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk @sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

Pedge Bookshop Art

Oooh, this was fun! A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful Coloring Book! I hope you will check out Pedge's Bookshop, as this rendering is based on the integration of "Crime and Punishment" themes that closely resemble "The Last of Us".

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.”

“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”

“Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice.”

“Break what must be broken, once for all, that's all, and take the suffering on oneself.”

Happy reading! This fan art took a little over a day. I've never used my i-pad for coloring and writing, so this was a fun adventure

Pedge's Bookshop The Dream

Bookshop: As per your recommendation, Joel is our shop owner. I think there's something appealing in a man who says little, but obviously feels so much. I just finished reading Pedge's rec for "Crime and Punishment" and it's a doozy. Joel has a lot...or very little say about it.

Triggers: y'all I was in a MOOD for this one, spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", "Last of Us" canon, injury/violence/murder/abuse/nudity, spiritual concepts, nightmare scenario, crying...geez...maybe read this later...

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

Joel stared resolutely at the stairwell, heading into the hallway and was met by the flickering fluorescence of the hospital corridor. His head was pounding with a dull throbbing, which he was all but oblivious to, as the steely taste of iron permeated his senses. He had to get to Ellie. It might already be too late. The childlike paintings and mildewed toys added a bizarre foreboding, as he carefully and quickly moved down the hall with the gun concretely nestled in his shoulder. He had lost count of how many bodies fell under the weight of his quick precision, as he continued, unblinking, towards the main Operating Room. Only stopping for a moment to reload, he quietly entered the darkened environment, quickly observing three individuals.

Without a moment’s hesitation he dispatched the surgeon, hearing the scalpel clatter helplessly to the floor. On the operating table, he saw the delicate feet of the small body, limp and lifeless. The nearby nurses were screaming for mercy, but it was hush under the din of blood rushing to his ears. 

Ellie. 

He gestured for the nurses to step aside as he neared the table with an almost sacred anticipation.

Sarah. 

Joel froze in longing terror as the angelic face of Sarah stared up into his face, arms outstretched and reaching for his touch. An unbidden cry escaped his mouth as the nurses vanished like phantasms and a burgeoning circle of blood blossomed across her abdomen. 

“You let me die” Sarah neutrally observed, blood now covering the expanse of her surgical gown, as Joel dropped to his knees in placation.

“Babygirl, I tried, I tried…” he whimpered, drawing both hands to his face in abject horror, opening his eyes to see the unfeeling and lifeless face of the surgeon on the floor before him. The surgeon’s eyes opened gravely, a strange smile spreading across his face, much like a Cheshire grin. His body began to convulse with laughter, a maniacal mirth dripping from the tones of his otherwise melodious voice. Joel reached behind him for the hunting knife housed in his belt, stabbing the surgeon in the chest. But the surgeon continued to laugh, tendrils of infection now spreading around Joel’s wrists drawing the knife forward and back repeatedly.

Joel fearfully looked up, noticing that Ellie was sitting up on the hospital gurney, watching him voraciously. He ripped the knife from the vice-like grip of the surgeon, and scooped Ellie up in his arms. “Let’s get out of here…” he muttered, stepping over the body of the doctor and heading for the hospital doors. Reaching the hallway, Ellie was no longer in his arms, but a row of doors opened on either side, each one housed with a familiar face.

The occupants held an eerie awareness, staring unflinchingly at Joel as he walked down the hall towards a silhouetted figure at the end of the walkway. He saw his brother’s visage gazing skeptically, and Maria perched in another doorway, holding her stomach. On the left hand side was Tess, covered in infected tendrils, and to the right Marlene had a gaping wound in her abdomen, and was fingering a hand held revolver at her side. Joel quickened his pace as he walked towards the lit figure, hoping against hopes that Ellie had somehow escaped from this medical nightmare.

Nearing the hooded figure he breathed a sigh of relief seeing your face revealed to him in an almost ethereal glow. You were standing before him otherwise naked, but he couldn’t look away from your eyes. They were radiating with a compassionate warmth, glistening with tears and awash with empathy. Joel fell to his knees helplessly, reaching out for your supple form and gulping back his own tears.

“I couldn’t save her, I couldn’t save her…” he repeated over and over again, sinking lower and lower still into the floor. Returning to meet your gaze he was horrified to see the looming figure of Levi towering behind you, dragging a foreboding palm across your bare midriff.

“Get away from her…” Joel growled, reaching for the knife once again, but finding himself completely devoid of weapons other than his own fists which balled aggressively at his sides.

“She was mine first” Levi drawled, twisting your head to the side and licking a long stripe of lust across the upward turn of your neck. Joel saw blood red as he lunged for Levi’s legs, tackling him to the ground in a feral rage. Tendrils of infection blossomed out of Levi’s mouth, but Joel paid it no mind. He was pummeling Levi again and again, oblivious to his own well-being, a creature of violence and murder. Again and again, his heart pounded in his chest, no longer aware of Ellie or Sarah or you…only focused on the singular goal of overwhelming vehemence. This was beyond choice. Beyond awareness. There was a road of destiny and Joel was fated to follow it. At some point, he looked down at his own bloodied and mangled hands, only to discover that he was beating the wooden floor, splintered and shattered, but all that remained was his own self-destruction.

Your beautiful silhouette was now poised at the opposite end of the hallway, as Ellie and Sarah stood at your sides. Joel shakily stood to his feet, feeling the blood drip onto the wooden floors. The hall occupants were continuing to stare in judgement, as a great chasm began to deepen at the center of the walkway, but Joel was paralyzed with indecision. He was completely rooted to the spot, unable to move and unable to articulate a single word. His body was a frozen skeleton of rigidity and helplessness as his hands hung like weighted anchors at his side. He opened his mouth to scream, but floating and delicate bands of infection cascaded forward, tickling his throat and wrapping themselves around his neck and jaw.

He tried to scream your name until…

Joel awoke, covered in sweat and gripping the sheets desperately. His chest heaved with a heaviness he hadn’t allowed himself to fully feel in years. Muscles aching with the imaginary weight of nightmarish terrors, his face was covered with the dry salt of tears long since cried. His throat was raw and dry with the winter’s chill, as he sat upright, feverishly clawing at the back of his neck.

He had to tell you. There were so many things you didn’t know about Ellie, and the unquestionable things he had done to protect her. What he would do to protect you. What he would do to anyone that threatened the people he loved. He didn’t know how you would respond. He just knew you were a kindred spirit. A companion in his solace of suffering. A beacon of hope in a world that grew increasingly dark. For so long, he had questioned his capacity to love and be loved, but in that moment, he knew that it didn’t matter. Maybe suffering was the spiritual bond that engages man to Divine Love itself. Joel sank back on the bed, willing his heart to stop pounding as though racing out of his chest. Maybe he didn’t know how to love. But if suffering was his key to eternity, he was assured that he could follow his heart all the way to wherever it led….

Crime and Punishment The Lecture

Grab a latte! Time for a sweet treat before you head into The Bookshop! Check out "Bookends" by @djarinmuse, it will absolutely hit the spot...

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, discussion of murder/violence, alcohol consumption, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", spirituality/religion/existentialism

Series Masterlist

Words: 4k

It had been weeks since you had seen Joel, or risked an inopportune meeting in The Bookshop. After your enigmatic encounter over Winter Break, you had oscillated somewhere between embarrassment, irritation, desire and confusion as to whether your presence would be wanted. What had started as a literary deconstruction had quickly turned into a personal one, and you couldn’t be sure how welcome that journey would be. Granted, there was a lot of preparation to restart the school term after the holidays, but truthfully, it was just easier to ignore everything your conversation had unearthed. That is, until class resumed.

Avoiding Joel had been easy; there were always patrols and commune business to aide your self-imposed isolation. You had to admit The Bookshop would have been a valuable resource for your curriculum prep, but you had done without and could do so again. If you were being truly honest with yourself, it wasn’t the books you were really missing. But the renewal of the school term loomed large on the horizon, and here you stood at the doorstep. A cornucopia of ridiculous age gaps-tremendous potential—and Ellie.

Ellie was one of your brightest and most ambitious students to date, but after the mysterious dinner, culminating in unspoken desires and tenuous subtext, you were more concerned than ever. Not only did you want to help Ellie explore her intellect and agency, she wasn’t one to shy away from difficult conversations. You found yourself at a strange crossroads of desperately wanting to offer guidance, but shrinking inward at the possibility of transparency and vulnerability. Some teacher. And yet, here you all were, poised to begin the exciting class term, bright, smiling faces beaming up at you—-and Ellie.

She sat transfixed by the melting, winter’s landscape, watching a solitary red cardinal, flitting colorfully from tree branch to tree branch as you waxed philosophically about the semester’s objectives. Perhaps the door had already been closed, and your friendship was an opportunity that had died an early death. You attempted to plow forward, unfazed, but concerned nonetheless. It was a strange dichotomy to recognize your own inability to survive alone, but still be so paralyzed by the fear of letting anyone in. At least, as a teacher, maybe you could instruct the next generation how to avoid that alienation, short of exampling it yourself. 

The day passed relatively quickly, as, much like the cardinal, you flitted from desk to desk, attempting to help each student with their diverse and varied projects revolving around history, agriculture, science, medicine, home arts and more. You had quite nearly forgotten the conundrum as students bolted out the door in the late afternoon light, hunched over your desk, perusing assignments and projects, until a familiar voice juxtaposed itself.

“Hey teach, got a second?” Ellie’s direct lilt tickled your ears curiously, as your eyes shot up to meet hers.

“Oh! Ellie, I’m so glad you stayed behind” you fibbed ever so slightly, simultaneously intrigued, and terrified at the line of potential conversation. Ellie seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief, gazing behind her conspiratorially, assured she was out of earshot.

“Did uh…did something happen between my…between you and Joel…at dinner, or something?” Ellie whispered in hushed tones, a tinge of concern passing over her countenance at the possible overstep.

“No! I mean…maybe. I…” you sighed heavily, swallowing hard. What DID happen? It was so bizarre to experience a moment of deep meaning, without any true understanding of what the significance was. “Why, what did he say?” you shifted gears, suddenly anxious as to her approaching answer.

“Nothing!” Ellie immediately confessed. “I mean, you know Joel. Just grumbling and silence mostly. He keeps asking about you, and how you’re doing, and moping around the house…even more than usual” Ellie smiled dolefully, picking at the edge of your school desk. “He’s been telling me more about the book…” she quipped, slinging her pack over her shoulder heftily, “…and mentioning that I should ask you about it…”.

“Oh, is that so?” you brightened slightly at the admonition that Joel seemed as unnerved as you, but as yet undeterred. Maybe you hadn’t ruined the entire prospect.

“He says you have a special understandin’…about a woman’s ways. Or…good at holdin’ secrets…I didn’t really ask what he meant…” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders good-naturedly, noticing the reddish tint at the top of your ears.

“Yeah, there are some secrets that should probably stay hidden” Joel’s words echoed in your mind acerbically, as you wondered if the sentiment were true.

“I guess…” Ellie picked at her nails awkwardly, looking around the room for hidden solace.

“Is that what you wanted to ask me about?” you ventured, truly desirous to help Ellie with whatever challenge she might be encountering. 

“Oh! I just remembered who Mr. Marmelade reminded me of!” she chirped, as her demeanor immediately darkened at the confession. Perhaps Ellie was finding herself as conflicted as you were regarding transparency and community.

“I’d love to hear about it, if you want to tell me” you tentatively opened the door of conversation relishing the avenue of opportunity. Maybe you wouldn’t be the one to teach Ellie the art of authenticity, perhaps it was the other way around. A moment of silence stretched before you as Ellie seemed slightly at war with herself, weighing her options. She finally pulled one of the wooden stools forward, hunching over your school desk secretively.

“Alright…when Joel and I were traveling here, we met lots of people on the road to Jackson” she began, a weight noticeably lifting from her shoulders. “I’d never really been much out of the Boston QZ, and everything was…one big adventure!” her eyes lit up momentarily with the remembrance. You smiled in solidarity, reflecting on some of your own adventures and discoveries. There was a lot of life to be lived, even in this apocalyptic atmosphere. You nodded encouragingly. “But…not all of it was good…” she paused, her face shifting with discomfort. “Plenty of challenges, and some friends…but most of them didn’t make it out alive. Not like us.” Ellie stated bluntly, her chest collapsing slightly with the heaviness of the reality. You turned your eyes downward, listening carefully and nodding your head. Most of these kids had seen more tragedy than any young life deserved, and you wished you could ease their suffering, ANY suffering around you.

“There was this one town…” she began, her gaze blurring slightly with the memory “…and we were in the Kansas City QZ. There was a heap of trouble there, and people shooting. And an army, like a bona fide ARMY of infected. But we met these two guys…” Ellie stopped, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. “Uh, we met these two guys Henry, and his younger brother Sam…and they were real great” she finished, her eyes glossing over with an emotive sheen. You pursed you lips thoughtfully, curious as to Ellie’s question, and hesitant to hear the story’s conclusion. Holding the silence tenderly, you cautiously waited, joining Ellie in the palpable feeling of loss.

“And…I couldn’t…” her eyes filled with tears, defiantly willing her emotion to stay hidden “I couldn’t help them” she finally admitted, wiping her tears away quickly as the they cascaded down her cheeks unbidden. “I couldn’t save them” she whimpered slightly before stilling completely in silence. You smiled tenderly in the stillness, nodding again in affirmation. You wondered in that moment if you didn’t have the same feeling of helplessness right now. Each human’s life was so uniquely distinctive. But how can any of us truly help one another, if not by simply living and dying in existence, together? You paused, weighing your words carefully as you proceeded forward.

“That’s a lot like the Marmeladov Family, don’t you think?” you ventured quietly, watching Ellie’s eyes round out plaintively in the silence. She dragged her hand sniffily under her nose, closely returning your gaze. “Rascal wants to help them, but things go from bad to worse until…”.

“They don’t make it, do they?” she rasped, her eyes a darkened hue of anguish.

You tilted your head to the side empathetically. “Some of them do, and some of them don’t. We just can’t save everyone, all the time…”. Ellie breathed heavily, the weight of truth settling around her like a comfort-less blanket. “But that’s part of what it means to be truly human. Acknowledging one another, and our own inability. Feeling helpless, and yet still trying.”

“Do you ever feel that way? Helpless?” Ellie’s voice had nearly disappeared, the boisterous laughter of children echoing from the nearby stoop in contrast.

“Oh my God, when do I not?” you nearly laughed with incredulity. “All of us feel the weight of inability, every single day. You. Me. Joel…”.

Ellie pulled back skeptically, “Joel isn’t helpless! He might be annoying, but he does all kinds of stuff. Taught me to shoot. Knows how to hunt. You think Joel is helpless?”.

“I think…Joel is human, honey” you smiled, his face immediately reflected in your mind’s eye, full of sensitivity, wonder and depth. “I think we’re all HUMAN. Dostoyevsky hit the nail on the head, whether you’re living in the 1800’s or at the tail end of the world…” you surmised, not censoring yourself as one might, in the honesty of the sentiment. “And the unique privilege for us to be alone, together. To try against all odds, to ease one another’s suffering, whether we achieve it or not, is the Divine gifting of every individual. Every human heart”.

Ellie smiled ruefully, sitting a bit taller, and slinging her bag over her shoulder more definitively. “Okay, teach. Thanks for the talk” and with that, she was quickly exiting the room, purposefully headed to…wherever she was headed next. “Oh! And will you visit Joel sometime soon?” her voice surprisingly caught you from the doorway. “If Rascal the Cat is his only companion, I’m gonna have to sit through more of his mumbles and grumbles about you for the rest of my life, and it’s drivin’ me NUTS. Put him out of his misery already?” she smirked, hefting her book bag one last time and leaving you with your own muddled but increasingly optimistic outlook.

Standing outside of The Bookshop, you weren’t rightly sure how you had arrived at Joel’s doorstep once again. Almost hoping he were unavailable you noticed Rascal the Cat currently eyeing you smugly, seated indoors on the cozy quilt. Surveying The Bookshop from the foyer window you saw the familiar crackling fire, pot of coffee and burgeoning selection of books you and Joel had begun to categorize by Dewey Decimal system. The hand-made mahogany chair sat otherwise in solitude, before you hesitantly entered The Bookshop to the characteristic bell.

Your eyes widened at the growing selection of literature Joel had procured. This was turning out to be your own personal Library of Alexandria, assuming that Joel didn’t completely bar you from entry. Ironically enough, his deep throated voice boomed from the back room, “We’re closed!” his broad frame entering the main room confidently before he halted in his steps.

“It’s you” he whispered, his entire countenance momentarily dissolving in a softened visage before stoically snapping back to attention. “You’re okay, teach” he grumbled, shewing the cat out of your chair and headed towards the wood burning stove. “Coffee?” he rhetorically asked, before grabbing your favorite mug and pouring you a cup. You buttoned your lips tightly, anxiety creeping into every fiber of your being. Don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up…You sat quietly in the mahogany chair, gathering the quilt around you protectively. Maybe if you just didn’t speak, you could rely upon yourself to be the person the Miller Family deserved.

“Awful quiet over there, teach. We didn’t scare you away, did we?” Joel’s voice melodically intoned, but it was betrayed by an undercurrent of real concern. He handed you the mug of joe as you noticed a slight tremor in his fingertips, before he placed them confidently astride his hips. “Ellie said you had a real nice talk” he shifted awkwardly from side to side, a vision of forced neutrality.

“We did. I was so glad she decided to confide in me. Thanks for the support…” you encouraged, taking a timid sip of the potent beverage. Joel’s face lit up in recognition temporarily, hopeful at your re-established rapport. “S’no trouble. It was a hard journey here and…well, I’m not much for talkin’. At least not always sayin’ what I mean…” he trailed off, rubbing humbly at the back of his neck. “Sorry I ruined…the dinner” he added, almost as an after-thought. 

Your mouth parted slightly in shock. “You didn’t ruin anything. I was just surprised” you confessed. “Maybe too much bramble berry wine. I’ll know better for next time!”

“Next time?” Joel immediately pounced on the inflection, his eyebrows shooting up in delighted anticipation. You stalled, momentarily unsure of yourself.

“Well, we’re only halfway through the book! You didn’t think you were gonna get off that easily, did you?” you teased, hungrily taking in Joel’s playful expression. He breathed a sigh of relief as Rascal the Cat intertwined itself amidst his ankles.

“Sure thing” he sighed. “Still not the best student though, teach…I’ve been a little…distracted” he gazed down at the orange tabby nuzzled against his calf. 

“Worried about Ellie?” you ventured, Joel’s acknowledgement immediately catching yours, as he nodded curtly. “Well, like you said, she’s a good kid. This is what growing up is all about. Questions, doubts. Discovering what it means to be human. Spirituality…”.

Joel shook his head emphatically, “We’re not religious, teach. If you knew the people we met on the road here…”. 

You cut him off gently, “I’m not talking about religion, I’m talking about the human spirit. That’s what Dostoyevsky is talking about; the way we live, the way we die, and all that’s in between. Ellie’s just coming to terms with what it means to just…be”. Joel looked at you pointedly, his gaze once again taking you apart, piece by piece. You felt oddly naked, sitting before him, completely swathed in the comfortable quilt.

“I just want her to be happy” Joel finally whispered, wistfully searching through the window’s haze.

“Me too” you smiled, joining the intentionality of his search. “We just have to remember that there’s a lot more to life than just…happiness”. You shared a long stare with Joel in the quiet of The Bookshop, punctuated by purrs from Rascal the Cat, as unexpected snow began to drift in the outside flurry.

“Who said, that, Dostoyevsky?” Joel smirked, stepping slowly forward and drawing the quilt up around you sweetly.

“Me” you grinned dolefully, pouting with chagrin.

“Birds of a feather” he smiled, drawing your chin between two calloused fingers, with a small but tender pinch.

The winter days continued to pass quickly, though the snowfall didn’t seem to ease up. You continued to meet Joel at The Bookshop, organizing the sections of languages and science. The technology section seemed particularly bare, and currently obsolete, but perhaps someday mankind would be able to have a resurgence of technological growth, and you wanted to ready the next generation as much as you could. Sometimes you stopped by The Bookshop to find it cold and empty, with news of an ongoing patrol reaching your ears, and stoking anxiety in the cavernous depths of your heart. Was Joel okay? Should you check on Ellie? How long would he be gone? But those moments seemed to be few and far between, and you shoved them out of your mindset as much as was possible. Unwilling to upset the tenuous balance of your ongoing friendship, you gave both of them as much distance as the three of you seemed to thrive on. It wasn’t until several weeks later that Ellie approached you again, as the classroom dissipated.

“Got a minute, teach?” she hesitantly asked, drawing your attention to her fidgeting fingers and anxious demeanor.

“Of course, Ellie, you know I’ve always got time for you. How are you and Joel doing?”

“Don’t know. Joel is still out on patrol. Has been, all week…” she mumbled, as you bit your lower lip. You knew about Monday’s patrol, you just hadn’t realized its duration. “Got the whole Miller Mansion to myself…” she almost whimpered, adopting an immediately confident and armored appearance.

“Oh, honey, you can always come to my place if you want. Or I can come to you? Joel wouldn’t want you to be all alone…” you concernedly offered.

“It’s okay. I’m not scared” Ellie unconvincingly added, fidgeting with her pack once again. “Just…real quiet…at night. Rascal the Cat doesn’t say much” she joked. “In that way…just like Joel”.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve got someone” you commiserated, starting to pack up your papers for the evening’s work, secretly worried about the ongoing patrol, but unwilling to telegraph it, for Ellie’s sake. “Did you need help with your homework?”

“No, I just…started reading more of “Crime and Punishment”…Joel left his copy, and I was real bored…and I’m reading more about that Squid-Guy…” she sheepishly recounted, shrugging her shoulders awkwardly.

“Svidrigaylov” you joked with your best Russian accent.

“Yeah, Snake Eyes, Joel calls him. Seems like a real sonnafabitch…” she joked, immediately catching your eye as you both mouthed… “LANGUAGE”. Chuckling with one another easily, Ellie paused considering her next words carefully. “Joel said…you were real good at keepin’ secrets?”

You looked at Ellie cautiously, Joel’s enigmatic words reflected back at you, and wincing slightly at their double meaning. “Your secrets are safe with me” you finally promised, sitting back and awaiting Ellie’s response. Ellie took a deep breath before beginning.

“You know I told you about Henry and Sam, who we met on the road?” she started, her fingers idling spooling a loose thread from her well-worn winter’s sweater. You nodded somberly, the periphery of your mind drifting to Joel’s whereabouts. Ellie needed him. Was he okay? Where was the patrol? What if things somehow took a turn for the worst? 

“Go on” you encouraged, shaking your head of the clouding, fearful cobwebs.

“Well, we met other…people. Some of them not so nice. There was a man…who pretended to be…He called himself a preacher, and he was anything but. Unless he was preaching a gospel of…shit” Ellie pursed her lips, caught between her own indecision and need. “He was a real bastard…and his flock! He lied to them…manipulated them. Used them” Ellie stopped, struggling with the memory of it. Your eyes narrowed in comprehension. No way in hell would Joel let anything happen to Ellie on his watch. What had happened? Is this the secret everyone was so reticent to share? You would never doubt Joel’s intentionality, and whatever he had done, you KNEW it was for a good reason.

“What happened, Ellie? Did Joel hurt him? Did Joel…kill him?” you tried to make the statement neutrally, as though speaking to a wounded animal, as Ellie’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers.

“It was me” she croaked, almost inaudibly. “I did it. I killed him”. Her face took on a strange detachment, eyes clouding over with disassociation. “Everything was on fire. He was gonna……so I did it. I killed him…before he killed me”. Your eyes quickly flitted to the open doorway, ensuring that no one was standing within earshot. 

“Who knows about this?” you whispered, drawing your arms across the desk and taking Ellie’s hands carefully in yours.

“Just Joel” she cried quietly. “He found me after”.

You nodded your head solemnly, still anxious as to where Joel was. No wonder he was so protective of her, and who could blame him? No child should have to endure what Ellie had experienced.

“Joel said it was self defense but…” the pallor of her face immediately paled “but what if it wasn’t?” Ellie’s voice sounded nearly strangled in her throat as a wave of tears threatened to pour forth.

“Honey, if Joel said it was self defense, then that’s what it was. You know you can trust him” you assuredly stated, rubbing Ellie’s hands together and rising from your desk. “Humans will do whatever they must, in order to survive, and it sounds like you did just that” you humbly offered. “Come on, let’s get you home, I’m not letting you spend another night with the memory of that Squid-Guy” you tried to jest, Ellie tiredly grinning. “Maybe we’ll take a little break from ‘Crime and Punishment’ for a while?” you questioned, hugging her around the waist and nodding together. What the hell kind of apocalypse were you living in, that children had to ask these kinds of existential questions instead of basic math? In that moment, you vowed to protect Ellie in the same ways that Joel had. He would come back. He had to. But if someday he didn’t, Ellie would NOT be alone.

Trudging through the never-ending snow you arrived at the Miller Household later than evening, a fresh stack of books procured from The Bookshop, and a fresh pot of stew enjoyed with the fire. Ellie had quickly retired to her bedroom, the result of a string of nightmarish evenings while awaiting Joel’s return. Rascal the Cat sat curled at your feet, as you perused the reading material recently found. It was a strange cornucopia of items; “Jane Eyre” (though it seemed to be missing several pages), a collection of poetry by various authors, “In Cold Blood” by Truman Capote. You had just begun to rifle through the many options when your heart lurched at the lumbering figure leading up to the doorstep. The orange tabby mewled affectionately, as you heard the heavy stomp of boots hit the landing before some mumbled profanities and the sound of keys dropping to the stoop. You sat up curiously, anxious for Joel’s possible arrival as the door flung open in a wintry bluster, Joel tripping slightly over the lip of the frame before he shut the door. You immediately smelled the sweet fragrance of whiskey as Joel stumbled backwards into his own home, shaking the snow off the shoulders of his winter jacket, his head lolling sideways to catch your surprised gaze from the living couch.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Joel slurred, his eyes half mast as he removed his winter jacket halfway, catching his arms at the elbows. “You here to save me, teach?” he hiccuped, stumbling forward slightly and bracing himself heavily at the back of the couch.

Holy hell.

Crime and Punishment The Argument

Grab a latte! What is Frankie doing here? Lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Routine" @endlessthxxghts before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, references to murder/violence/prostitution, argument, alcohol consumption, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", this chapter got a bit more angsty than I predicted, with just a little bit of passion...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

“So are you guys like, boyfriend and girlfriend now?” Ellie bluntly stated, as she peeled carrots at the kitchen sink.

“The hell?” Joel stopped what he was doing to look at Ellie incredulously. “Who told you that?” he huffed, attempting to appear nonchalant as he returned to the stew boiling on the stovetop.

“Nobody. I just was wonderin’…” she mischievously retorted, returning to the task at hand. 

Maybe Joel had rushed things a bit. Looking out the kitchen window, he nervously dragged his hands down the front of his jeans, awaiting your dinner arrival. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn plaid. It was true, the easy friendship that had developed between the two of you was all Joel could think about recently, but maybe including Ellie in the discussion had been premature.

“‘Sides, we need to talk about your school work, or LACK thereof…” Joel deflected quickly, glancing over at the decorated dining room table, nodding in affirmation at the dried lavender placed front and center.

“Jesus, haven’t we talked about ‘Crime and Punishment’ enough this last week?” Ellie scoffed, gathering the carrots clumsily for the stew and shoving them towards Joel abrasively. “I think the school teach has caught your eye in more ways than one…” she muttered sarcastically, skulking out of the kitchen and leaving Joel with a slightly petrified look on his face. 

Yup, too soon.

Joel didn’t have a moment to overthink the situation, because a knock at the door quickly followed.

“I (Don’t) got (get) IT!” their voices collided in the hallway as Ellie raced to the front door, a wintry draft blowing inside quickly.

“Hi Ellie!” you chirped nervously, holding a bottle of bramble berry wine bartered from the Tipsy Bison. “I come bearing gifts!” you shoved the wine enthusiastically in her face and quickly withdrew it. “Wait, are you old enough to be drinking?” you immediately questioned as Joel’s presence loomed large in the background.

“‘Spect she’s old enough for most things, if she took her head outta her ass” Joel mumbled with a pout.

“LANGUAGE!” you both exclaimed, giggling slightly at Joel’s chagrined expression. 

“Come on in, teach, or winter’s comin’ in with ya!” Joel reprimanded, heading over to the fireplace and stoking it happily, now that his back was to you. He could do this. It was just a date. Not even a date. A literary discussion.

“Thanks for invitin’ me on your date, I LOVE three wheelin’ it” Ellie bantered, setting the wine on the table and heading into the kitchen snootily. Joel whirled around with annoyance, proffering the fire iron awkwardly, “Get the NICE glasses from up top, if you can reach ‘em!” he huffed, catching your smirking expression before he softened his tone. “Figure you can have a small glass, if you behave” he muttered, setting the fire iron down and picking up the nearby book.

“Couldn’t put it down, teach” he shrugged sheepishly. “Brought Ellie up to speed, we’ve got LOTS of questions”.

“Glad I can be of service” you grinned, pulling out your own copy of “Crime and Punishment” and waving it brazenly. “Things are starting to get interesting!”

“Can I take your coat?” Joel offered, striding towards you and reaching for your scarf before drawing his hand back tentatively.

Quickly disentangling yourself from the winter wear you handed it to Joel shyly as your hands brushed accidentally in the transfer, but Joel didn’t pull away. The crackle of the fire wasn’t the only electricity in the room, as you were poised magnetically, both holding the coat and scarf in tandem.

“That’s a real pretty color” Joel rasped, admiring the burgundy sweater you had donned in anticipation of your literary date. You swallowed dryly at the ongoing eye contact, desperate to look away, but seemingly incapable. The flickering fire highlighted the sharp outline of his jaw and dark pools of tumult hiding behind those hypnotic brown eyes. 

Damn, Joel was an attractive man. 

You had certainly noticed it before, but the cascading dip of his lower lip was pulling you into a sensuous warmth, broken only by…

“Are you guys gonna kiss??!!” Ellie’s voice pointedly shot from the hallway, as you both dropped the jacket to the ground.

“Damn it, Ellie what’d I say about interruptin’?” Joel quipped, picking up the jacket and rubbing at his lower back with the effort. “Have a seat, teach” he gestured to the dining room table as Ellie smiled brightly with affirmation.

“Joel’s been catching me up on the book. I like it. There aren’t many puns though” she teased, pulling out a chair for you and grabbing the bowls for dinner.

“Puns?” you questioned, inhaling the soft fragrance of the dried lavender, and fingering the tablecloth lightly.

“If it’s not a dad-bod, what is it?” Ellie’s voice drifted in from the kitchen as Joel paused in the hallway, irritated.

“A FATHER figure! Get it?!” 

Joel rolled his eyes good-naturedly, opening the bramble berry wine for the three of you before sitting at the head of the table. “I think we need some more nicknames if we’re gonna keep ‘em all straight in the book” he offered, grabbing a nearby napkin and draping it across his lap.

“Alright, Luzhin is pretty easy, but the Sridya…Scridya…”

“I jus’ keep callin’ him Squid-guy” Ellie jested, setting two bowls down and returning to the kitchen for more.

“Svidrigaylov…” you pulled out your best Russian accent, as Joel burst into an easy grin.

“The Snake…” he hissed playfully. “Don’t trust either of ‘em one bit” he judged, as Ellie returned with her own dinner plated, sitting between you.

“Rub a dub, dub, thanks for the grub!” Ellie chaffed, digging in to the stew and closing her eyes rapturously.

Joel huffed affirmatively, mirroring her enjoyment as you joined them.

“Alright, do I need to worry about any spoilers? Ellie, this stew is really quite good!” you praised, opening your book casually to remind yourself about the talking points. Joel beamed clandestinely from the side as Ellie chomped away.

“Caught’r up on everything I know so far; the murder, the family, Sonia…” Joel rattled off the list expertly.

“She the prostitute?” Ellie surmised, grabbing for a biscuit at the center of the table.

“Ellie!” Joel snapped, his eyes darkening quickly.

“What?” 

“Yes, she’s the prostitute” you broke in diplomatically. “Without giving too much away, I can see your character analysis is already pretty astute. Joel, I’m still curious, what makes you distrust the other two characters? They both present themselves as legitimate and upstanding citizens…” you reached for a biscuit as well, curious as to Joel’s conclusions.

“Somethin’ about that Luzhin always seemed too good to be true. Ellie knows how I feel about it, but don’t trust anybody who claims to be in the light when their actions are mostly in the dark. Take the Fireflies for example…” he shoveled a few bites of the stew into his mouth wholeheartedly.

“I thought you said Tommy was with the Fireflies…” Ellie retorted, drawing her hands into her lap placatingly. “I know…knew some people who thought they were…okay…” she trailed off, suddenly losing her appetite.

“Well, sometimes it’s hard to tell from the start, what someone’s intentions are; you know that” Joel instructed, taking a sip of bramble berry wine and registering his delight, toasting you ceremoniously. Joel really was a good father figure. You wondered how it came so easily to him, when by all accounts Ellie didn’t seem to actually be his daughter.

“I guess” Ellie pondered darkly. “We ran into all sorts of people on the road” she mumbled, pushing her plate away suddenly. “'Crime and Punishment' seems like a walk in the park, compared to…everything else” Ellie looked out the window vacantly. You often caught her with a similar nebulous expression in class before drawing her back into discussion. Joel and Ellie were really two peas in a pod. You didn’t want to press the matter, and looking over at Joel he gave a quick nod of dissent, beckoning you to move on to another topic.

“That’s true” you began, sipping your own wine hesitantly. “It’s not every literary classic that begins with a murder within the first few chapters. The two sisters, Alvona and Lizaveta are the first in a series of tragedies listed in the book…”.

“That nightmare unsettled me right quick” Joel agreed, still gazing at Ellie concernedly. “Thought she was nearly come back from the dead” he shivered slightly, returning to his stew.

“And there is a big thematic extrapolation about Lazarus when Rascal goes to see Sonia” you concurred, slowly re-engaging as Ellie rejoined the conversation. “Are you familiar with the story of Lazarus?”

“Can’t say we really take to the ‘religious’ types, teach” Joel interjected, taking a large swig of wine as he continued to watch Ellie cautiously. You followed suit, downing the rest of your glass in one gulp, unsure of the subtext in the moment. Maybe “Crime and Punishment” WASN’T a good curriculum option for the spring… “How’s that wine, Ellie? Why don’t you thank the teach for bringin’ it by” he encouraged, pouring himself another glass.

“Yeah, thanks teach” Ellie stated perfunctorily, taking a small polite sip and returning to her stew.

“It’s no trouble” you smiled, breathing a tentative sigh of relief. “Lazarus isn’t really a saint or religious figure, but he’s pretty important in Christian theology as a literal and symbolic representation of resurrection” you poured another glass of wine for yourself, feeling your tongue loosen slightly with the warmth of the beverage.

“What, like the infected?” Ellie’s eyes shot open in surprise. “You’ve seen ‘em, right? Bang! Shoot ‘em dead, they pop right back up!” she ladled another spoonful of stew into her mouth skeptically.

“I’m not sure that’s what Dostoyevsky was referencing, but it’s an interesting analogy” you acquiesced, taking another sip of wine. “In this case, Lazarus acts as a symbol for the potential spiritual and emotional rebirth of Rascalnikov. I mean, Rascal, as we like to call him” you nodded to Joel who was chewing with determination, bobbing his head. “Any other characters you had a question about?” you wiped your forehead slightly with the napkin, feeling the affects of your second glass start to coarse through your veins heatedly. Maybe you should slow down a notch.

“That other family, Joel was telling me about. The drunk guy and the coughing wife with kids…” Ellie finished her stew quickly, turning up her nose repugnantly at the wine in her glass. “Mr. Marmelade?” she quipped, rising to clear her dishes before Joel could reproach her. He poured both of you a third class of wine, polishing off the bottle for the evening, before you could protest.

“Marmeladov and Katerina?” you asked, finishing your own stew in the hopes of balancing that third glass of wine.

“Yeah, they remind me of somebody, I just couldn’t tell ya who” Ellie called from the kitchen, starting to wash the dishes as you looked over at Joel quickly. He shrugged good-naturedly, his cheeks a very light, reddish tinge from the warmth of the fireplace and the wine.

“Well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. We’ll see them again in future chapters, so keep your eye on them!” you called back, the table taking on an ethereal glow with that third glass of wine. Guess it was a little stronger than you had figured. Joel’s eyes sparkled with a contented sheen as you watched his chest rise and fall steadily in the flickering light of the fireplace. You wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Licking your lips voraciously, you downed the remaining dregs of your wine, searching for a bit of liquid courage. 

Maybe this WAS a date. 

Joel stared back at you, his gaze drifting over the totality of your body seductively. Usually, you might have felt a bit like prey in the sights of a nearby hunter, but there was a softness and a gravity to Joel’s countenance that seemed to hypnotically draw you in, not repulse you. His eyes flicked up to meet yours almost telepathically.

“Why don’t you guys just kiss already and get it over with?” Ellie’s voice broke the spell abruptly as Joel’s head snapped to attention with a searing look of reprimand.

“Sorry, sorry!” Ellie put her hands up in mock surrender, taking the remaining plates and bussing them into the kitchen. Your cheeks reddened slightly with embarrassment, catching a sideways look at Joel who seemed to mirror your awkwardness.

“Ain’t you got some homework to do?” Joel called from the dining room table, the corner of his mouth betraying a thread of humor as you chuckled softly. Joel stood from the table quietly, heading over to your chair and pulling it out for you deftly, taking your hand gently in his. Even the numbing effects of the wine didn’t dull your surprise at the intimate gesture, as you felt the calloused brush of his fingers against your delicate skin. You didn’t have any trouble imagining them elsewhere, feeling your face flush at the unbidden fantasy.

He led you over to the fireplace, picking up his copy of “Crime and Punishment” and settling in for discussion. “You warm enough, teach?” his honeyed voice seemed to melt your resolve one iota further as you shrank under his heated gaze.

“Oh yes. Quite warm” you squeaked, as Ellie attempted to sneak past you both and up the stairs.

“Night, teach, thanks for comin’!” she finally called, at the top of the stairs. “Can’t wait to see what happens next!” before vanishing into her bedroom.

“Damn teenagers” Joel smirked thumbing through the book lazily. “She’s a good kid, and I’m glad she has you for guidance” he observed, setting the book down between you and turning his body towards yours. “She’ll always have me, but a man’s not the same. Needs a good woman in her life to…confide things in” Joel nodded to himself resolutely, his gaze starting to vanish in the hazy effervescence of the glowing fireplace. “I don’t like to push, but…you’d be just the ear for…keeping secrets and stuff” he trailed off, his eyes glazing over tiredly in the flicker of the nearby flame.

“Secrets?” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to fully take in Joel’s distinctive profile. His strong features, peppered beard, aquiline nose…and lips. Plush lips. You dragged a heavy breath through your mouth plaintively, wondering how Joel might respond to the secrets from your own past. Joel turned back to look at you fixedly, his eyes boring a hole in your already fluttering heart.

“We’ve all got secrets” he mumbled, his eyes unabashedly drifting lower to your lips, as you watched his jaw tick nervously with anticipation. “Ellie, me…you” he drawled, somehow moving closer to your body without budging an inch. He paused, his face a soft visage of authenticity, dotted by wisps of skepticism. “Don’t ‘spect you were always a teach” he ventured, his fingers twitching lightly by his side. You swallowed harshly, taking in the familiar fragrance of leather and soap, as his brows furrowed in concentration.

“What do you mean?” you managed to croak forlornly, unable to break the enchantment the night was providing.

“Just seem pretty world-wise for a teach is all” Joel muttered, dangerously close to your ear, sending a light shiver down your back expectantly.

“Are we doing this?” you questioned pointedly, picking up the book defensively, if for no other reason than to provide a small barrier between yourself and your own desire.

“What?’

“Talking about our past?”

Joel froze forebodingly, inching back ever so slightly at the mere suggestion. “Lots of things happened in the time before. Don’t mean we’ve got to talk about it…” he sulked, licking his lips dryly. “Just seems like you know a thing or two about…sufferin’”.

“We’re in the apocalypse Joel, the whole world knows a heap of suffering” you stated, more accusingly than intended. Things felt like they were going off the rails slightly. Was it the wine? Maybe “Crime and Punishment” wasn’t the literary aphrodisiac you had surmised. “Why, is there something you want to tell me about your past?” the words were out of your mouth before you had a chance to weigh them, immediately feeling the tonality of the room shift coldly.

“I just thought…” Joel stared frigidly at your now stolid expression, the recent magnetism receding into the stymied background. “Nevermind…”.

“No Joel, tell me what you meant by that statement? I seem…what? World weary? Dejected? Alone?”

“Didn’t mean nothin’ by it” Joel leaned back, grabbing the book from your grasp and holding it tenderly in his lap. “Just seemed like…you understood, that’s all”.

That was the problem, of course. Joel had easily seen through your academic facade and wasn’t too far off the mark. No one in Jackson knew about your questionable background, and they certainly didn’t need to. So long as you kept to yourself and isolated as much as possible, you could keep everyone in the commune at an arm’s length. But it seemed that Joel was impermeable to that forced distance. Maybe he too, understood a bit more personally about the type of alienation that Dostoyevsky’s writing seemed to embody. A cavernous vacuum of longing nipped at your heels tenaciously, as you stood, swaying slightly with the shift.

“Where ya goin’?” Joel sat up quickly, his hand outstretched to steady your frame, as you desperately looked around for your winter coat. 

“Gonna head home now. Lots of…reading to do…” you stuttered, tripping slightly over the hand-made coffee table and grabbing at your coat and scarf.

“Don’t go just yet, let me walk ya…” Joel rose shakily, clearing his throat with concern. He hadn’t intended to offend you. It had been a long time since he’d spoken at length about anything other than patrols, and he felt rusty at best.

“It’s okay, the cold air will do me good!” you clipped, stuffing your arms into your coat and jerking the front door open briskly.

“Will ya wait a goddam second?” Joel spat, grabbing his own coat and slamming the door behind him.

“WHAT Joel? What is it you want to hear me say? What kind of suffering is it you want me to reveal?” you turned on your heel, a new gust of wind biting at your reddening cheeks.

“Now wait a minute! I didn’t mean…”

“I don’t see you stepping into the sainthood anytime soon! Don’t think I haven’t heard the scuttlebutt around town…” you challenged, surprisingly fueled by the evening’s wine and pointing an accusatory finger at Joel’s broad chest.

“Well, whatever you heard, it’s probably true” Joel sneered, immediately biting his tongue with regret. “Some secrets should probably stay hidden” he darkly confessed, the wind whipping the brown curls of his hair across his forehead.

You hoped the tears forming in the corners of your eye went unnoticed, but Joel’s face immediately softened with the acknowledgement. “See you at the Bookshop, Joel” you sniffled, wiping at your eyes with annoyance and turning your back to him quickly. Joel grabbed at your elbow tenderly, but you quickly jerked it out of his grasp. “Don’t follow me”.

If you had glanced behind you, you would have seen Joel’s beleaguered expression, as he watched you go, wondering how the night had dissolved so quickly into an unintended argument. But you didn’t look back. You just put one definitive step in front of the other, your booted feet crunching the snow beneath you, until you arrived at your own home, collapsing in a heap of silent and lonely tears.

Pike's Place When Harry Met Sally Finale

I fell hard for these two, in an unexpected way. It wasn't until @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" that I managed to really sink my teeth into this delectable winter treat. I've completed a slow burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent! Hope you enjoy!

Triggers: little profanity, no real smut just kissy time, New Year's celebration and revisitation of the ex...

Word Count: 2k

Series Masterlist

Pike stood joyfully beaming, his cheeks rosy from the cold, and unabashedly in love. Politely jostled from side to side, and standing outside the Lincoln Memorial, he and thousands of his closest friends were awaiting the countdown to New Year’s. Perhaps working for the CIA Art Squad had a few perks. Jamming his hands further still into his winter jacket, he marveled at how many memories seemed to be etched in the snow over the last several weeks.

Meeting you. Surviving the snow-apocalypse. Celebrating Christmas. Falling in love. In some ways, everything had happened so quickly, and yet there was a familiarity, even a nostalgia that added to the sense of destiny. It really is a wonderful life, he mused looking around at the happy families and snuggling couples, feeling a momentary pang of longing, anticipating your impending reunion.

After the cinematic rescue, you had both made it back into town and shared a precious 24 hours together, reaffirming your decision and beginning to make plans. Pike was still gobsmacked you had offered to move to Washington D.C to explore the burgeoning potential of your relationship. There was no doubt in his mind that he was head over heels in love with you, but circumstances had proven him wrong so many times before. The heightened flurry of your relationship added a dull sparkle to the proceedings that Pike almost couldn’t believe. Every kiss. Every hug. Every text. It all seemed too good for someone like him, and this was the final gauntlet. 

Having already shipped his belongings to D.C and tying up any loose, Californian ends, Pike had bidden you an emotional farewell at the airport, safe in the knowledge that you were going to follow in a matter of days. It hadn’t been easy to arrange the travel, but working for the CIA was turning out to be the professional blessing he had always dreamed of. You needed time to explain the situation to your parents, professionally transition into a permanent remote position, put larger items in storage and give your apartment complex 30 days notice. Texting and talking everyday, the bigger countdown had begun, until you could hop on a plane and join Pike for the New Year’s celebration you had only seen in movies. Except it wasn’t a cinematic illusion anymore. This was going to be reality. He hoped.

Shuffling his feet together restlessly, he glanced down at his phone anxiously. You had already boarded the plane in California and were headed towards him, but even the reunion had been difficult to orchestrate. Holidays were rough, and Mother Nature seemed to be following the two of you wherever you went. Pike looked around The Lincoln Memorial imagining it columned by cherry blossoms, walking hand in hand to local food markets. Maybe you’d wear a pink sundress, your heels clicking across the marbled floors of the Smithsonian. Maybe he would take off his suit jacket and place it lovingly around your shoulders when the summer breeze began to turn into autumn caresses. Pike shivered mindlessly in the winter chill as another partygoer apologized profusely for the inconvenience. He finally had everything he needed, but where was the girl? HIS girl. His “Pink”.

Settling in to his D.C apartment, he wasn’t sure the sparse emptiness was dictated by newness alone. There was something missing, and it was YOU. It had been a part of the ongoing discussion, but Pike wanted to take it slow. He knew all too well the ramifications of only leading with his heart and not his head, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he could call you his girlfriend yet, but moving across the country for the sake of love seemed like a pretty good sign. He just prayed he could be worthy of the sacrifices you were already making and that he wanted to return.

Pike checked his phone once again, disappointedly glancing down at his feet, and the pamphlets and candy wrappers littering the landscape. The beauty and community of D.C was absolutely phenomenal, but what he wouldn’t give for a bowl of Thai, a hot toddy and his hot girlfriend cuddled up next to him, watching “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington”. Jimmy Stewart understood. Sometimes, all a man needs is his principles, his passions and his person…Pink. Pike nodded his head definitively. If he could just find her.

Desperately scanning the crowd once again, he was just about to offer his own apology of concern before taking a second glance at the nightmarish-like figure that had bumped against him awkwardly.

Lisbon.

Reprimanding himself for a slew of profanity that flashed through his mind, he bit his lower lip painfully. What the hell was his ex doing in D.C? Was he hallucinating? Was this another one of his evening terrors come to life? But, abruptly shoved from side to side and exiting his romantic reverie, he found himself face to face with the life not lived. This moment was all too real, and he initially wanted to escape it as quickly as possible.

“Agent Pike!” Lisbon awkwardly chirped, as Marcus cleared his throat with irritation. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from the exchange, it just seemed to drag all of his newly buried insecurities to the surface once again. He had already crossed the United States to start anew, and somehow his past was threatening to derail his promising new future. Good God, what if you decided to show up NOW! Pike looked nervously around him, seeking an escape route, but immediately doubled down on his resolve. Those who did not learn from history were doomed to repeat it, and he couldn’t be more assured of his steps moving forward. This was the moment he could finally put the nail in the coffin that was Christmas Past, and delightedly step into a new year and a new future…with YOU.

“Agent Lisbon” Pike mumbled, jamming a cold hand forward and shaking Lisbon’s hand curtly. “How do you find yourself in D.C this winter?” he attempted the idle small talk, still searching the crowd for your redemptive face. This was not how he planned to start the New Year.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to avoid your offices during my visit here. I know things are…difficult” Lisbon sighed, her eyes squinting skeptically at Pike in the anticipatory crowd. Marcus paused, thinking back on the quick friendship that had developed in the professional time together, and felt his heart melt slightly at the unnecessary awkwardness. What was he doing? This wasn’t necessary. Nobody had done anything wrong. The paths of life had happily taken them in different directions, and without those very same choices, he wouldn’t have found his way to Pike’s Place and more importantly….to YOU. This was a chance to move forward, without hesitancy and step into the optimism of a New Year.

“It’s nice to see you again!” Pike smiled good-naturedly, clocking Lisbon’s immediate skepticism. “I…I’m getting situated into the D.C offices, and if I’m totally honest, that’s thanks to you!” he impishly smirked, shrugging his shoulders transparently. “It’s a wonderful step for me and…my life is really starting to take off here” he confessed, hoping he was communicating  enough of the details to put Lisbon at ease, and not so many intricacies as to confuse the situation. 

“You look good!” Lisbon exclaimed, her cheeks reddening slightly at the possible misinterpretation of the moment, as Pike’s eyes lit up with acknowledgement.

“I’m waiting for my…I’m meeting someone!” Pike beamed like a schoolboy, seizing the opportunity to share in his recent triumph, and hopeful that Lisbon was receptive. 

“Oh?!” Lisbon looked temporarily shocked, and then relieved to see Pike grinning from ear to ear so enthusiastically. 

“YeahImnotreallysureifIcancallhermygirlfriendyetbutwebasicallysavedone anotherslives.YouwouldnotbelievetheChristmaswewereabletosharetogetherandletsbehonestyouandIneverreallyconnectedinthewaythatwouldhavelastedandbythewayIneverapologizedformisreadingthatsituationwithyou.AnywaysIthinkthismightbeitandIamthinkingaboutaskinghertomoveinwithmewhichissoclassicPikebutIknowwebelongtogetherandIknowshefeelsthesameway!”

Pike breathed quickly, a rush of adrenaline surging through his system as his face flushed with the excitement of love’s glow. Pink must be rubbing off on me, he chuckled with slight chagrin, checking his phone once again as the DJ attempted to corral the audience into some last minute celebrations.

Lisbon registered a momentary look of surprise before relaxing into a more peaceful acknowledgment. “That’s wonderful Agent Pike, if anyone deserves it, it’s YOU” she smiled, with tight lips, taking a moment to squeeze Pike’s forearm in friendship and scoot past him quickly.

“I won’t…uh…I won’t be seeing you at the office, will I?” Pike winced at the phrasing, but wanted to be crystal clear about his intentions. Only one woman had his heart, and he was desperately hoping you would arrive in time to save him once again.

“No!” Lisbon nearly shouted, enveloped slightly by the oncoming crowd and gesturing behind her. Just wanted to get a peak at the New Year celebration! Headed to the airport now! Congrats Pike, it couldn’t happen to a better guy!”

Pike beamed with renewed confidence, already distracted by the buzzing phone in his hand. “Gotta go Lisbon! Great to see you!” he plugged his ear tightly, cradling the phone to the side of his face…. “PINK????!!!!”

All that materialized was a garbled static of white noise, as Pike looked furiously around for your familiar face. “PINK???!!!” he shouted a few more times before the call dropped unceremoniously. A few solitary snowflakes flitted before his gaze as the DJ began to organize the countdown. He was running out of time! Were you okay? Where were you? Was your flight delayed? The crowd began to chatter nervously, enjoying the quick snowfall and surge of New Year energy. He knew his expectations always seemed to be running out of his control, but how he longed to hold you in his arms again. Even the past few days had felt interminable, having previously shared such intimacy, he was almost crawling out of his skin to get to you in these last celebratory moments of the year that had finally brought him to YOU. Punching a few buttons quickly, he redialed, waiting for the lilting sound of his reason to celebrate. His reason to love. His…

Pink.

The bright, gregarious shock of your pink snowsuit dotted the otherwise camouflaged landscape as you both made eye contact from about fifty feet away.  “Alright folks, we’ve got about five minutes left before the countdown begins. Start prepping for that New Year’s Eve kiss!” the announcer exclaimed, as your face lit up in a dazzling array of joy. Pike’s eyes widened enthusiastically, as he inched his way closer to you, desperately trying to pace himself, but overwhelmed by his dreams finally coming to fruition. Like two magnets, you were drawn together, giggling and shuffling around the sea of humanity surrounding you.

“Hey stranger!” you shouted before Pike tenderly grasped your face in both hands and planted a deep, passionate kiss between your lips seductively. The entire crowd disappeared quietly as you hummed into Marcus’ mouth contentedly. You were exactly where you wanted to be, here in Pike’s embrace, ready to start the New Year with all the promise and acceptance you both so readily deserved. Pike pulled back slightly, his face flush with the cold and excitement of the moment.

“Sorry, I couldn’t wait…” Pike grinned dopily, running his hands down your arms warmly and intertwining his fingers with yours. “You’re here!” he sighed, smiling down at you with tenderness.

“You’ve got me!” you retorted, seeing nothing but Pike. The last few days had been a whirlwind of activity and obligation, but you found yourself on the doorstep of a new life and a new empowerment, and wanted to enjoy every moment of it. “I dropped off my luggage at the hotel before I arrived…I think my phone is all wonky…” you explained, before Pike pulled you in for another kiss.

“Okay folks, grab your loved ones it’s time to start the countdown of one minute!” the DJ  shouted, but it all seemed like meaningless nonsense in the background of your sparkling bubble of love.

“I’ve been thinking about that…” Pike lowly intoned, drawing your forehead to his and swaying back and forth slightly in the cold, winter air. “No pressure, or anything, but if you wanted to stay with me…for a bit…we could…see about keeping each other warm?” Marcus teased, biting at your lower jaw suggestively, and wrapping his arms tightly around your torso. You snuggled up into the crook of his neck, enjoying the bristle of his newly developing winter’s beard, and peppering feather-light kisses across the sensitive skin below it.

“For survival?” you questioned curiously, finally hearing the crowd begin the New Year’s countdown.

“For survival!” Pike teased, kissing you sensitively on the cheek.

“SIX—FIVE…” the crowd began.

“FOUR—THREE…” you and Pike mirrored one another with ebullience.

“TWO—ONE—-HAPPY NEW YEAR!” everyone shouted victoriously, but you were already lost in the next kiss that never really ended. The loudspeakers started to play “Auld Lang Syne” as happy partygoers attempted to sing along.

“What does this song mean? My whole life, I don't know what this song means. 'Should old acquaintance be forgot'. Does that mean that we should forget old acquaintances? Or does it mean that if we happened to forget them, we should remember them, which is not possible because we already forgot ‘em?” Pike recited above the din of the loudspeakers.

“That was impressive!” you yelled back. “How many times have you watched ‘When Harry Met Sally?’” you teased, pinching at Pike’s stomach playfully.

“Not nearly enough, if it hasn’t been with you!” he beamed, hugging you tightly and finally assured that everything would be alright. It was the beginning of your life in D.C, your life with Pike and the life you had always dreamed of, but never fully grasped. And yet here you were; grasping the love of your life firmly and fixedly with both hands, and never letting go. Happy New Year!

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers!

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @wordywarriorwrites

@janaispunk @timelordfreya @schnarfer @devineconjuring 

@mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk 

@sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @princesspurple75

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

@shaunasflannel @anelva @shinyanchorobject @flyingthroughtheave @anoverwhelmingdin 

Pinkie Pie Pedge

There is no justifiable reason why I'm posting this. It COULD be a showcase of my soon to be complete series "Pike's Place" and all things Pink. It MIGHT be an installment of Pedge Tweets, and an excuse to gaze longingly at our beloved. OR it might just be a distraction as I head into a barrage of tests and doctor visits for the New Year (#pinkpoop). MOSTLY it's just cause I think Papi Pascal is hot sh@t.

*thanks zephirahh for the design page!

*sweets from the sweets @inept-the-magnificent + @romanarose

Crime and Punishment The Family

Foyer: There are already so many great AU fics featuring all our favorite Pedro Boys and I'd like to showcase them! In the Coffee Shop Foyer you'll find some great rec's for coffee and books alike. This week, check out Miller's Booknook @whocaresstillthelouvre as your sweet treat!

Bookshop: As per your recommendation, Joel is our shop owner. I think there's something appealing in a man who says little, but obviously feels so much.

Triggers: profanity, sexy descriptions, typical Last of Us canon, discussions of violence, cat allergies, major spoilers for "Crime and Punishment"...

Series Masterlist

Christmas had come and gone. The flurry of snow and holiday activity had begun to recede into the nearby distance, clumping into dirty pockets of slippery ice and sludge as you trudged your way down main street. In this moment you were assured of one thing;

You felt like a complete idiot.

Staggering haphazardly down the main thoroughfare of town, you caught more than a few sidelong glances as you struggled with your carried contents. It wasn’t everyday they saw the town teacher hefting a bona fide picnic basket at the epicenter of winter, and possible tail end of humanity itself. Who had time for a picnic in the apocalypse? Forget the fact that you had about ten lopsided picnic baskets in your living room from last spring’s unit on agriculture and crafts. Smiling awkwardly at your passing students, your embarrassment would have grown larger still if anyone knew the cornucopia of items you were attempting to proffer. Gone were the days of food markets and charcuterie boards. Here, at the end of the world; you had carrots.

Well, not just carrots, you had brought a few treasures, including last year’s canning of apple preserves, but you just hoped Joel wasn’t too picky an eater. You had promised lunch for your next literary discussion, and you aimed to make good on your word. More than a little late, you now found yourself under the microscope of burgeoning Jackson Commune gossip, nearly tripping over Tommy and Maria as you approached the book shop.

“Whoa, where ya going there little lady, with all those goods?” Tommy joked, arm in arm with his wife Maria, who was expecting in the spring.

“Oh, um…just checking out the new bookshop!” you chirped, a bit too enthusiastically. “For the students…my students…our students…” you rambled, peering around Tommy’s broad frame and trying to see if Joel were in the bookshop foyer.

“Watcha got cookin’ in there?” Tommy questioned, propping the basket lid slightly until Maria slapped him alongside the arm.

“Leave them alone, Tommy. What are you, “The Enquirer”?” she jested, wrapping her other protective hand around the underside of her growing belly.

“No harm in lookin’!” Tommy protested, passing by on the side and calling over his shoulder. “Tell Joel I said to be on his best behavior!” Maria chuckled quietly under her breath as your cheeks reddened slightly with chagrin. Making eye contact with Rascal the orange tabby through the bookshop window, you smirked with self-deprecation. Guess the cat’s outta the bag.

Maybe the picnic basket was a little much, but you had every right to be there. Rascal the Cat seemed non-plussed by your thought process as you shoved the bookshop door open to the tell-tale ringing of the bell. Heaving a heavy sigh of relief, you set the basket down on the lobby chair, already welcomed by the crackling wood-burning stove, inviting coffee’d fragrance and…

Ellie?

Ellie rounded the corner with a stack of books piled nearly to her head, pausing in the aisles to register her apparent surprise.

“Miss J?” she questioned, as Rascal leapt on top of the nearby picnic basket with curiosity. You nearly turned on your heel with embarrassment, but stubbornly stood rooted to the floor.

“Oh! Hi Ellie! Is your dad…” you winced “is your Joel…I mean…Is Joel here by chance?” you bumbled incoherently, watching Rascal shove an aggressive paw under the basket lid, searching for more catnip.

“Ask him yourself, he’s right behind ya…” she retorted, setting the books on the floor before she dropped them completely, as Joel bulldozed in through the door, slightly out of breath.

You had clearly caught one another unawares, as Joel stood panting quickly, a dried bunch of lavender clasped firmly in his gloved hands. His mouth dropped open surprisingly, as he took in the sight of Rascal, Ellie, you, the picnic basket and his own insecurities, shoving the door shut behind him roughly with a booted foot.

“From the ‘pothecary” he grumbled, shoving the dried lavender into your shocked grasp and making a bee-line for the back room, quickly removing his winter coat and rubbing at the back of his neck humbly.

“Jesus, Joel don’t be an asshole!” Ellie yelled, ignoring your delighted expression as Joel exclaimed from the back, “LANGUAGE!”. Ellie giggled good-naturedly eyeing the picnic basket with admiration. “Would ya like some coffee?” she rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly at Joel’s adolescent attitude. Before you could answer, Joel’s booming voice cascaded from the back, “COFFEE’S ON THE STOVE!”. You both smiled ironically as Rascal shoved his furry head into the basket’s contents.

“Joel said you might be droppin’ by….for research?” Ellie’s eyes brightened conspiratorially, as though enlightened by a secret she alone was privy to.

“Uh…sure…it’s not everyday you trip over the new town library!” you busied yourself grabbing a cup of coffee, unsure of how to wrangle your way out of a premature conversation. “Started your homework yet for post-holidays?” you deflected, eyeing Ellie mischievously from behind your steaming mug of joe.

"You bet…” Ellie sardonically chided. “You know how much I like homework” she smiled, setting the books haphazardly on the shelves, without looking.

“Bullshit” Joel mumbled under his breath, sporting a new plaid shirt and nearly bumping into the nearby bookshelf when he caught sight of your pensive expression.

“Language” Ellie whispered sarcastically, as you attempted to hide a growing smile behind the grasped ceramic.

“Don’t you got somewhere to be?” Joel snapped quickly, shoving the sleeves of his shirt up his sinewy forearms and huffing with annoyance. “Told Tommy you were gonna muck the stables this winter…” he pointedly asked, grabbing his ice cold coffee and downing it in one swallow.

“Jesus, don’t gotta be all mean about it…” she scoffed, standing to her feet spryly and grabbing her own coat from the nearby counter. Her voice lilted as she shew’d Rascal away from the picnic basket to take a peek. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she called, grabbing a biscuit and heading for the door. “I’ll start that homework tonight, I promise!” her voice echoed after the shop bell rang, turning impishly to make a funny face at Joel and quickly stalking away.

“Goddam teenagers…” Joel grumbled, though the soft sheen of his eyes betrayed his own sentimentality, as he shifted awkwardly under your penetrating gaze. “Gonna ask me about MY homework, teach?” he jested shyly, placing his hands on his hips and stifling a small chuckle.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full with plenty of responsibilities!” you confessed, opening the nearby quilt with a flourish and setting the picnic basket atop it. “Hungry?”

“Starvin’” Joel admitted, striding forward and wincing slightly at his crackling knees. “Not a spring chicken…” he acknowledged, grabbing the dried lavender from your grasp and fiddling with it sweetly.

“Well, that’s why we’ve got the next generation, so they can keep us on our toes” you teased, removing your odd assortment of treats to Joel’s wondering eyes.

“Not quite sure I understand much of it…” he revealed, drawing the lavender to his nose and inhaling deeply.

“What, teenagers or life?”

“Both” Joel stated matter-a-factly as you both chuckled softly.

“And here I thought you were confused about the homework…” you pried, removing your copy of “Crime and Punishment” as the last in a series of unexpected items.

“Got plenty of questions for all three” he began, accepting a plate and looking ravenously at the quirky feast spread before him.

“Where shall we start?” you gestured at the picnic, as Joel hungrily shoved a biscuit into his mouth before it even reached the plate.

“The family” he mumbled, a few crumbs already dotting his broad chest, as you began to open the jar’d preserves and pickled vegetables.

“Yeah, I had to look them up…Alexandrovna the mom. And Dunya, the sister…” you recited, from last night’s academic notes.

“They all talk too much” Joel complained, shoving another biscuit into his mouth and grabbing for the preserves.

You laughed heartily, starting to dish up the nearest items at your fingertips, smiling at Joel’s immediate engagement. “Never had a sister, but Tommy’s fixin’ to turn into that Raz-a-whatzits here in Jackson…” Joel mocked, dipping his forefinger sloppily into the preserves and bringing it fixedly to his mouth. You gulped slightly, fixated on Joel’s puckered lower lip.

“Razumikhin?” you rasped, suddenly much warmer than you had been in the town square.

“Believing’ the best, and ignoring the rest. Don’t tell Tommy I said that…” Joel nodded approvingly at the preserves, sighing contentedly and leaning back against the bookstore counter.

“I ran into them on the way in” you observed, barring Rascal from setting up shop in the now emptied picnic basket.

“Jackson’s real good for him, only…” Joel paused, suddenly steeped in self doubt.

“Only what?” you asked, unsure of his directionality.

“Don’t think Maria likes me” he mumbled, shifting his body weight uncomfortably on the hard wooden floor.

“Maria is shrewd. A real investigator if you ask me. Just wants what’s best for her family and the town…” you offered, finally allowing Rascal to overtake the picnic basket as he purred victoriously.

Joel nodded, picking at the rogue crumbs strewn across his plaid shirt. “She sees a lot” he agreed, picking up the lavender once again. “She wouldn’t believe that Luzhin for one damn second…” he noted, picking at the dried flower absentmindedly.

“Reallllly? What makes you say that?”

“Man’s gotta rely on his instincts if he wants to survive” Joel stated matter-a-factly. “Luzhin is no good, I’ll tell you that right now. Plenty of people in this world that will take advantage of people like Tommy, Ellie…YOU. Gotta be careful” once again Joel seemed to vanish into a world entirely his own, as you paused, wondering if he were still talking about “Crime and Punishment”.

“Well, a big thematic component Dostoyevsky likes to explore is intentionality and motivation…” you continued hesitantly, lost somewhat in the stormy countenance of Joel’s faraway gaze. “Rascalnikhov oscillates between his own self-inflicted punishment and a desire to transcend the boundaries of natural law with impunity. He constantly questions the limitations of situational morality and utilitarian ethics. He can’t even bring himself to acknowledge the murder, rationalizing that he didn’t kill a person, he just killed a concept, but that reasoning only lasts so long. At the end of the day, we ALL ask the question—who do we answer to? Particularly in a society that inflicts such pain upon itself…” you let your words hang silently in the air, concerned at Joel’s disappearing visage. What inner world was he retreating into? You took a moment to absorb the lines and wrinkles painting his face, as his jaw worked needlessly against some clandestine challenge. The sudden unbidden desire to drag your fingers across the rough stubble of his beard flashed through your mind, as Joel heaved a heavy sigh of unknown conflict.

“More coffee?” his eyes suddenly found yours with a dazzling light, as he emerged from whatever tumult had surrounded him.

“Sure!” you chirped, having only drunk half of the cooling beverage. Joel noisily staggered to his feet, already uncomfortable in the seated position for such a burly guy. Rubbing at his lower back his other hand grazed yours, taking the coffee mug wordlessly and heading over to the wood burning stove.

“How’s Ellie doing in school?” he muttered, with his back to you amidst the growing library of treasured books. Surprised at his shift in topic, you immediately jumped at the chance to learn anything about their mutual, mysterious background.

“Ellie’s a sharp student. Quick witted with a swift tongue…” you smiled at the diplomatic appraisal, but it was true. Ellie was one of those rare students who didn’t speak much, but when they did, their words whistled clean and true, like a penetrating arrow. Joel must know as much.

“Yeah, that girl’s got a mouth on her” he chuckled, returning with your refreshed coffee and towering above you. “Doubt I’m much of a damn good influence” he reasoned, reaching across your body, and coming dangerously close to your lips as he grabbed one final biscuit. You indulgently caught a quick fragrance of leather, soap and pine that overwhelmed your entire being for that millisecond. Unsure if Joel somehow noticed, you thought you saw the smallest twinkle graze the corner of his eye as he headed to the back room definitively.

Speaking almost to yourself you continued, “I DO wish I knew more about the students in my classroom, it would make it easier to connect with them on the things that really matter…” you trailed off, beginning to ponder aloud. “I wonder if Dostoyevsky would be a good read for the spring…”.

“You’re the expert, teach” Joel reappeared with a stack of new books, including a beleaguered yellow pages from the outlying territories. “Just seems like a lot of death for new, young lives” he questioned, hefting the stack of books on the front counter and heading back for more. You began to clear some of the picnic away as Rascal the orange tabby protested vociferously.

“It’s true, but some of it is unavoidable” you vented, thinking on the cornucopia of ages and backgrounds represented in your small classroom of maybe 25 children and teenagers. “Some of these kids have seen enough brutality to last a lifetime, and others have been completely insulated from the outside world for their entire existence”. You shook your head, incapable of comprehending how to provide for all of their educational needs. “What about the two of you? Did you see much violence on the road to Jackson?” the words were out of your mouth before you considered them, immediately arrested by the stoic silence of the backroom. Several moments passed before Joel reappeared with a smaller stack of books to join the first.

“Yeah” Joel huffed, unwilling or unable to go into more detail at the present moment, and you didn’t want to push it. “Ellie is tough. She can stand it. But not all my…not all girls are alike” Joel enigmatically offered, gesturing at you broadly. “What about you teach? You seem tough as nails, ‘specially for a bookish sort” he probed, tossing the yellow pages at your feet as Rascal scampered out of the way. Your eyes flashed with acknowledgement, thinking back on your first, surprising bookshop meeting. You were no shrinking violet, but you weren’t sure how much of that information would be beneficial for your educational duties. Setting the picnic basket to one side, and picking up the yellow pages for future organization, you avoided.

“You’re probably right. Not all girls are the same. And Ellie can take care of herself” you reticently observed, looking Joel dead in the eyes as you grabbed a nearby stack of reading material. “I’m pretty sure the 300’s are science or social science”.

“Don’t know much about that, teach. I’m not really a man of science” he scoffed, heading to the backroom darkly.

“I think Dostoyevsky would agree with you!” you yelled to the back, beginning a new section of literary options and returning to the main topic of discussion. “He hates the high brow aristocracy, and scientific knowledge to the exclusion of all else. But make no mistake, D is a writer of tremendous emotion…and BELIEF!”

“Bullshit!” Joel emerged from the backroom one last time, nearly dropping the towering array of books balanced precariously in his hold. “Don’t quote me some Firefly, ‘lost in the darkness, look for the light shit’” he complained, punctuating his opinion by dumping the book stack unceremoniously atop the front counter.

“Language!” you sarcastically teased, as Joel’s face tinged with the sweetest shade of red imaginable. “I don’t want to get too far ahead of you, so you’re just gonna have to trust me on this one. But think about Rascal’s slipshod theory about the inhuman”.

“What, like the infected?” Joel debated, searching for any books on the sciences. “If you tell me Dostoyevsky was a fortune teller, Rascal’ll kick you out before I can…” Joel toted the appropriate books over to your aisle, shoving them into the side of your shoulder mockingly. Attempting to avoid the distraction of his intoxicating fragrance you plowed onward, however unsuccessfully.

“RASCALNIKOV” you enunciated mischievously, turning into the pile of books “starts to wax philosophical about a master human race. A division of inferiors and superiors, Napoleons and what-nots, but it’s all one big fallacy for his own self-aggrandized delusions”.

“Them’s a lot of big words, teach” Joel pursed his lips defiantly, scanning the whole of your body skeptically, and not without a tinge of arousal.

“It’s all a big show! Rascal can’t escape his own self-judgement or admit his actual motivations for the crime itself! He’s completely mired in his own delusional alienation and desperately grasping at anything he can find to avoid the acknowledgement of human pride and base inferiority. He’s just as infected as everybody else!” you finally exclaimed, noticing how closely Joel was watching your passionate expression, as his eyes hovered precariously over your now trembling lips. You tried to still the flutter of your shivered breathing, unwilling to break eye contact as Joel was magnetically drawn closer.

“You’re comin’ to dinner” he broke the spell abruptly, returning to the backroom nonsensically, and avoiding the incredulity of your followed gaze.

“WHAT?” you called after him, looking around the room haphazardly to find Rascal the orange tabby sitting smugly atop the repacked picnic basket.

“YOU HEARD ME!” Joel’s voice echoed from the back room, as you threw your hands up placatingly, imploring Rascal the Cat to offer any assistance whatsoever, and finding a lack of feline solace.

“I suppose I’m bringing another picnic basket?!” you remarked, huffing with feigned annoyance and grouping the books sloppily on the shelf.

“Not this time, teach. Gonna put Ellie and me to work and have you over tomorrow night at the house” Joel’s voice crescendoed until his broad frame was nearly on top of yours. “Ask anyone around town, you’ll find us. Seven sharp” his eyes squinted skeptically, almost challenging you to refuse.

“Fine”.

“Fine” his low voice rumbled forebodingly in his chest as you stared back.

“Fine”.

Rascal the Cat meowed curiously, as though joining the conversation. A smile teased at the corners of your mouth, watching Joel’s jaw tick playfully. “Now, scram, I gotta work and you’re distractin’ me from my homework” he chaffed, turning on his heel and smiling to himself with delight. It was a date.

“I’m distractin’….?” you queried to no avail, as Joel’s thick frame had already exited the foyer and returned to the bowels of the backroom bookshop. Rascal blinked sleepily in your direction with self-satisfaction. Hidden from sight, you beamed triumphantly. Grabbing your winter wear and hoisting the significantly lighter picnic basket, you confiscated the dried lavender from the floor, tucking it into your shirt pocket. “I’LL BRING THE COFFEE, MILLER!” you giddily reprimanded, nodding at Rascal and making a quick exit to the sound of the bookshop bell.

Things were starting to get interesting.

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges

@janaispunk @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya @schnarfer @devineconjuring 

@mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk 

@sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @princesspurple75

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin

My Darling Muse, My Darling Dieter...

*featuring AI art and Jackson Pollock background

Dieter is in LOVE. He's just not sure if he's met them yet. But in the interim, he's keeping a journal to house all of his inspiration, poetry and recipes, before they fly out of his head. And once he meets the ONE...or ONES...this is going to be his gift to you. Along with those sexy time IOU's he's always handing out. Love this post @for-a-longlongtime, and inspired by the Trope-Off (Dieter Bravo/Pen Pals)

Trigger: it's Dieter bub so this series will DEFINITELY include profanity, drugs, alcohol, sex, smut and any meanderings D wants...He's endlessly inspired by art, poetry, songs, sex and YOU!

*references Ginsburg's "Howl" + Rimbaud's "A Season In Hell"

My Darling Muse,

“I am with you…where you will split the heavens and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb…” “My guts are on fire. The power of the poison twists my arms and legs…I die of thirst, I suffocate, I cannot cry” “Who told you that there is no true, faithful, eternal love in this world! May the liar's vile tongue be cut out!” “I am with you…when you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal. It should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse…"

*written in margins; Ten daily sponge baths unhealthy? What is a trash panda and are they bi? MDMA in Kit-Kats? Addicted to baby goats?

*Andre Masson

My Darling Dieter,

Oh my honey I am so glad to hear about all the friends you are making in rehab. and how much you enjoy your sponge baths! I'm not sure if Kit-Kats have addictive properties or not, but I'm certain they are healthier than your other alternatives. And yes, I was being serious when I said you could buy a baby goat for New Year's, J.

"Glass of Absinthe" by Van Gogh

My Darling Dieter,

I see your therapist suggested other outlets for your yearnings, thought I'm not sure absinthe is produced in gummy form. What a creative idea! Van Gogh would have thoroughly approved. Perhaps I can think of some personal ways to satiate your other desires--within the context of my nebulous professional role. Love, J

*Halman

My Darling Dieter,

I am so proud of you for returning to rehab during the holiday season. I know things were becoming stressful. I DID inquire as to whether the poet Coleridge has an IG account, but since he lived in the late 1700's that seems unlikely. Yes, I do think Kubla Khan could be set to an inspiring tap dance, but only by you. Sincerely, J.

*Warhol-Basquiat

Hey folks! This is J, Dieter’s PA. D is a little embarrassed since he checked himself back into rehab for the holidays, but he wanted his fans to know that he is doing well and enjoying the beach resort. He is still working on his one man show “Dieter Deconstructed” and is determined to include a musical portion. His good friend and fellow actor Pedro Pascal recommended the book “The Urge; Our History of Addiction”. D was excited, but the material is VERY heady. After falling asleep to the soothing sounds of the audiobook, I have taken to reading D excerpts over the phone…so he can fall asleep to my voice instead. D says he is very relieved to have escaped the holidays and the many temptations, while he focuses on his own betterment and the nebulous relationship between artistic passion and the sometimes uncontrollable desires of addiction. Finally, he wants me to remind you all about his upcoming holiday special, “Cliff Beast 6 1/2; Hannukah Hijinks”, which will be appearing on all major platforms.

*thanks @kodaswrld for the cool dividers

Pedro Stories Secret Santa!

I'm gonna be totally honest. Nothing went according to plan. Chronic illness flare-up, missed Christmas Eve performance, late upload, and bungled festivities with the parentals. But in an odd turn of events this artistic project was the healing balm. Happy Holidays to @savedyounine. Even if things haven't gone as planned, you've got me, Grogu and Din Djarin rootin' for ya!

Unmasked @pedges-world Just Feels Right @ghostofskywalker

The Pensive In the autumn gardens under virgin palm trees, I watched mute and dodge pass the Pensive. I saw them in morning blue, with his gaze so far away; That in the mystery was lost in the blurred sky. I saw him in rosy railings where he wore his brials; And his beautiful evening face. It was a sorrow in the haze… Then walked silently in the candid gloom; And a sad pride lit them up. What would you think? Oh the pearly countenance with innocence and sin! Oh, their wandering glances of the fading plains! He was bewitching beauty; it was the pain that never cries; Without virtue and irony. What would it feel like? In the serene dawn, I saw him come back sad, Heading to the west, mute, dodge, The Pensive! by Jose Maria Eguren

*having taken FANTASTIC liberties with the translated Mando'a (background)

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers + @pedrostories for the prompt!

Pike's Place Die Hard

This is it! The culmination of the last few months and we've finally arrived at this Christmas reveal. It wasn't until @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" that I managed to really sink my teeth into this delectable treat. What a delightful slow burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent!

Triggers: finally, the smut we all deserve, profanity, emergency survival situation, sexy time confusion, reference to hysterectomy/pandemic, safe P in V, angsty angst and so much crying, you won't be disappointed...

Word Count: 12k (I don't know what happened...)

Series Masterlist

Hearing your feet crunch amidst the steadily falling snow, you squinted cautiously as Pike teetered precariously on a ladder against the cabin. Willing a Christmas Miracle of the grandest proportions you prayed that this was not the end, but only the beginning. Turning back to face the roaring ember which was once the woodshed, you were momentarily grateful for the heated repose. But it was only a matter of time before the blaze died down, and you and Pike found yourselves back in the apocalyptic blizzard that threatened more than your holiday plans. 

Shifting uncomfortably in the icy winds, you rubbed your hands together, blowing into them for warmth and taking stock of the last 24 hours. The electricity was out. The generator had gone up in flames. Lacking reception and facing the quandary of downed telephone lines and crippled power cables you gazed dejectedly at Bessie the Hyundai who anthropomorphically sighed fifty feet down the road. The final straw had been the carbon monoxide poisoning. Your eyes shot back to Pike who was helplessly attempting to clear a large oak which had unceremoniously teetered into the side of the cabin, effectively covering the chimney and your final source of heat.

Well, maybe not the final source. 

Pike shook his head in defeat, returning the ladder to its resting place and joining you aside the flickering flame, which had steadily diminished. The blizzard was determined to extinguish your dwindling sense of hope, if not your lives in the process. Anticipating his return, you marveled at his MacGyver-like repair of the shattered foyer window. You couldn’t be more grateful that your travels had brought you to Pike’s Place. You just wondered if the journey were ending so much sooner than either of you had intended.

Pike strode up beside you, bumping into your shoulder good naturedly and shouting above the din of the conflagration and freezing gales. “IT’S NO USE!” he shouted into your ear, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder and swaying slightly against the icy, buffeting winds. “I CAN’T CLEAR ENOUGH OF THE LIMBS FOR US TO USE THE CHIMNEY! WE NEED ELECTRICITY IF WE’RE GOING TO SURVIVE!” You nodded in affirmation, already feeling the stinging affect of the frigidity against your cheeks and lips as the fire died down. “LET’S GET YOU INSIDE!” he exclaimed, taking your hand in his and trudging back to the stilled cabin. It might be cold, but at least it could shelter you from what was about to come. Pike kicked the door open with a flurry of wind and snow as you stooped down to light the remaining emergency candles that had blown out in the preceding minutes. Although immediately grateful for the cessation of the squall, an empty chill began to permeate your bones as Pike gathered the water, rations, pillows and blankets beside the now obsolete fireplace. Gazing over at the once happy Christmas Tree you both paused to catch your breath and assess the situation. Looking around you at the shattered window and Pike’s steely expression you felt a maelstrom of grief wash over you. Hugging yourself tightly you began to cry quietly as Pike’s face crumpled in empathy.

“Pink” he began, rushing to your side as you buried your face in his chest, your body quivering with emotion. “Sh…sh…it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get out of this. I’m going to get us out of this” he promised, swaying from side to side and stroking your hair gently. “I thought you told me excessive crying was off limits…for hydration sake” he managed to eek out, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“O-only g-gingers are a-allowed to c-cryyyy…” you began to wail helplessly, as Pike chuckled into the crown of your head. “W-we exc-cel at d-dramatic bursts of energy…” you hiccuped, feeling your body relax in Pike’s embrace.

“That’s perfect. That’s just what we need to get this electricity going again” Pike hummed, pulling back to lift your chin with two, frosted fingers. “Take a deep breath for me, please?” he encouraged, rubbing warming circles into your back soothingly.

“O-one, I can h-hear the sounds of the wind outside…” you started, taking in Pike’s puzzled expression. “F-five s-senses…” you sniffled as Pike nodded in affirmation. “T-two…I can…s-see our b-beautiful C-Christmas Treeeeeeeee…” at this a fresh bout of sobs threatened your precarious self-control as Pike hugged you tightly, heading back to the fireplace as your legs dangled against his body loosely.

“And what can you smell?” he offered, carefully setting you down on the pile of pillows and blankets and reaching for a water bottle beside you. 

“I c-can smell…” you paused, your face reddening slightly with the admission. “I can s-smell your…aftershave…and cologne…” you hiccuped again, biting back a small giggle of relief as Pike smiled humorously. 

“Water, please” he unscrewed the top, tilting it towards your mouth and coaxing you to drink some carefully. Heaving a heavy sigh of concern he let you drink your fill, and then brought the water bottle to his own lips intimately. You reached out to touch his face, drawing your fingers over the stubble of his chin, and upwards to caress the wisps of hair framing his features. You sat together, slowly lowering your foreheads to one another, your breaths punctuated in the cold by plumes of warmth. 

“What can you taste?” Pike finally rasped, eyes still closed in quiet contentment. Without thinking you feverishly pressed your lips to his, a new heat burgeoning in your core. You felt your lips melt into his, the sharp tingle of cold dissipating against the soft yearning of his kiss. His chiseled jaw worked against yours, parting your lips languidly for his tongue to enter. Merry fucking Christmas. This was the best blizzard you had ever endured. Lazy thoughts entered your mind for a millisecond before slowly drifting out as you enjoyed the warmth and affection of one another for what felt like hours. Breaking apart to catch your breath, you noticed a small bead of sweat condense at the corner of Pike’s forehead, reaching up to catch the single salty droplet you seductively brought it to your mouth, swallowing with intensity.

“And what can be touched?” you whispered, looking deeply into the swirling vortex of Pike’s sentimental eyes, which were slowly darkening in hue and desire. His Adam’s apple bobbed hungrily in his throat as he placed a hand across your sternum, feeling the thrumming flutter of your excited heart.

“I’m thinking of a way we can stay warm” he began, fingering the dangling zipper of your pink snowsuit.. “For survival?” he smiled self-deprecatingly, hoping this suggestion fell under the heading of Emergency Techniques 101.

You felt your cheeks blush under the steady lust of his gaze, lowering yourself down to the floor and beckoning him to lay beside you. “Have negotiations begun?” you grinned forlornly, wishing you found yourselves at a quiet, candle-lit dinner instead of fighting for your very lives.

“Does it help to say that I’ve been tested?” Pike blurted out, furrowing his brows in consternation. This was not his usual art of seduction, and he winced at the transactional directionality of the conversation.

“You watch your dirty mouth” you pouted, pinching Marcus at the stomach and enjoying his beleaguered expression.

“I’m sorry, I just want you to be comfortable…” he confessed, tilting his face to the side and watching your face for micro-expressions. “It seems to me body heat can be JUST that. It doesn’t have to be anything more…I think I can…control myself…” Pike admitted, biting his lower lip in supplication. This was a bizarre situation, to say the least.

“Well I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t…curious about the possibilities” you pondered. “It wasn’t a few hours ago I was flinging myself at you on the couch”. Pike grinned knowingly, teasing the zipper down an inch. “And in all honesty…I don’t kiss just ANYONE on the Art Squad”.

Pike nodded his head with feigned sobriety, lowering your zipper down to your navel, his pupils dilating with passion. “We’re not gonna do anything you don’t want…” his eyes shot up to yours questioningly, as you squinted back.

“Oh I want this” you cajoled, beginning to strip Pike of his winter jacket and pawing at the buttons on his sweater. You both raised yourself up on your knees, quickly peeling the layers back in the steadily dropping temperature of the cabin, and pausing to note the huffs of pluming passion contrasted in the night air.

“Are we doing this?” Pike questioned, unsure where to look or where to put his hands in this bizarre circumstance.

“I’m n-not…s-sure, but let’s do something before hypothermia sets in” your teeth chattered comically as a wave of shivers passed over your body.

Pike quickly pulled his sweater up and over his head revealing his honeyed and immediately prickling skin, as you brought your hands up to his broad shoulders. “What first?” he implored, desperation dotting his tone. You couldn’t be sure if it was the fire of passion or the frigidity of the cold, but either would do. Taking a millisecond to admire the warmth of his skin and his plush lower lip, you stalled in overwhelm.

“I don’t k-know I’ve never had sex in an apocalypse b-before!” you admitted self-deprecatingly. “Gawd, it’s been forever since I just had regular sex too!” you giggled, drawing your torso closer to his.

“This is maybe the worst seduction in human history, but I’m pretty sure we want to start with skin to skin contact…” Pike surmised, his eyes widening as he took in your curving frame. “C-can I…uh…touch you?”.

“I’m about to turn into a p-popsicle if you don’t!” you shuddered, smiling affectionately.

“Okay…here I come?” Pike questioned rapidly, lightly drawing his fingers around your waist and neck and drawing your body close to his, as tenderly as urgency would allow. You laughed in surprise as Pike’s tingling, cold fingers melted into your skin cautiously, immediately warming to the touch.

“C-cumming already? That was fast!” you joked, trying to quiet the small convulsions of your body soaking in the heat of Pike’s torso, accidentally knocking your hips against his awkwardly.

“I’m nothing if not enthusiastic” Pike disclosed, a crooked smile turning up the corners of this mouth. Pike started rubbing your back heatedly, attempting to draw more circulation, and you mirrored his pursuits. You rubbed up against his stubbled cheek, turning into his neck.

“You smell n-nice” you encouraged, moving your hands lower down to Pike’s waist and beginning to notice his semi-hard length bumping against your hip.

“Oh gawd, you smell amazing…” Pike moaned into your hair, trying to pace himself for whatever you preferred. “Is this better?” he asked, his movements slowing and broadening as the temperature began to increase incrementally.

“I think s-so?” you pondered, feeling your core warming with the sensation of human contact. It had been so long. You quite nearly forgot what it was like to enjoy someone’s body, or even your own, but you felt yourself starting to detach with the emotional over-stimulation. “C-can we just…maybe…hold each other for a while?” you winced, embarrassed at the seemingly infantile tone of voice, as Pike pulled back to look into your eyes and cup your face in his warming hands.

“We can do whatever you want…This moment is all about you…and any ‘us’ that you want”. The sincerity in Pike’s look was immediately disarming and grounding you to the moment, however bizarre it seemed. “Come here…” Pike pulled a blanket from beside you, up and over your heads, cocooning you in a soft tent. Wrapping your legs around his and intertwining as much as possible, Marcus drew his arms under the snowsuit against your bare back as you cradled your face into his neck. “We can just stay like this…” Pike suggested, trying to focus on the hardness of the cabin’s floor and not the burgeoning hardness of his length, as your lace covered, plush breasts were pressed against his chest. He took several stilling breaths as your bodies melted together softly, the warmth of your togetherness already exponentially expanding.

You attempted to mirror his breathing to quiet your own and soon found a contentedness in the humanity of the moment. The circumstances might have been odd, but the validity of your emotion was very real. You wanted this. You wanted him. And you wanted to survive. After a few minutes Pike’s voice cut through the silence, “Is this the part where I make a joke about how the cold might affect a hypothetical individual’s…um…girth?” his body tittered humorously, desperately trying to put you and himself at ease.

You shifted your head to admire his side profile and cinnamon skin, as your eyebrows shot up to your forehead. Reaching down, very carefully, your fingers ghosted over his hardening length, as it twitched under your grasp. You gulped loudly, suddenly concerned, “Uh, Pike…I haven’t done this in a while, but given our current circumstances, I’m not sure that’s the main challenge…” your eyes widened in comprehension. Pike buried his face into your chest, sighing heavily. 

“Oh boy…I really like the color pink…” he mumbled into your breasts, as you rolled your eyes jovially at the admission.

“Well that’s good, so long as I don’t start turning blue…” you smirked, delighted that Pike seemed as eager as you were.

“I mean…I don’t wanna get ahead of myself…I don’t even have any condoms…” Pike groaned with forced chastity, swallowing hard against your sternum as he peppered kisses up to your neck. Your body froze, with more than the cold, as Pike pulled back to appraise your reaction.

“I’m sorry, was that a ridiculous assumption on my part?” he questioned, looking into your eyes for clarity. You bit your lower lip awkwardly, desperate to confide in him, but hesitant to broach the topic at this juncture. “Hey…It’s just me. It’s just us…” he stopped all of his ministrations, his breath fanning across your face soothingly. God, his lips were gorgeous. You couldn’t hardly concentrate on anything else. The explosion, the storm, the carbon monoxide poisoning…and all you could think about were this man’s lips. 

“You won’t need a condom” your voice started to disappear, hoping you could convey the logistics of the moment, and still maintain the intimacy that teetered so precariously.

“Copy that” Pike tried to hide his disappointment, his eyes lowering to the ground respectfully and loosening his grasp with delicacy.

“No, no…I just mean…um…I had a…before the pandemic I needed…” you sighed with frustration and a modicum of defeat. “I had a hysterectomy” you pouted, embarrassed at the blunt revelation. Pike’s eyes registered a new softness as he tilted his head to look at your more closely.

“Are you…okay, now?” he sensitively probed. “Does that mean you don’t want to…?”

“OH I WANT” you clasped your hand over your mouth with chagrin as your cheeks reddened with self-consciousness. Pike chuckled, drawing his fingers up to your hand and taking it in his. 

“There’s that pink…” he brushed his finger against your cheek, beaming affectionately. “Do you…want to show me?” he asked quizzically, unsure of his footing, but determined to provide whatever support he could, amidst the peculiar circumstances.

“Yes please…” you whispered, taking his hand and drawing it down the front of your body. Pike’s breath froze in the moment as you drew his fingers between your breasts rapturously, down your abdomen and lowering them just above your pubic bone. “Feel that?…” you asked, dragging his fingers across the feather-link pinkened scar, watching Pike’s mouth drop open with yearning. A small whimper left his lips as you drew his fingers lower still towards your heat. “Feel this?…” you probed, moving his digits over the wet patch of your underwear, as Pike’s fingers twitched involuntarily, eliciting an intake of air from you both.

“Is that for me?” Pike groaned, lowering his head into your neck and cupping your groin with his palm.

“Ohhhhhh shit….” you sighed. “Based on your…bearing…I think it might be primarily for ME, so you don’t split me in half” silently wondering how worried you should be.

“I can go slow” Pike gulped, relatively certain he spoke the truth. His enthusiasm had always seemed his downfall, but this moment was all about you. Your body. Your pleasure. Your survival. Your hips bucked up into his hand as his fingers ghosted over your clit, the fabric of your underwear creating a delicious friction. 

“Oh gawd!” you squeaked, immediately self-conscious, but starting to focus on the burning hunger pulsing within you, and not the dire circumstances swirling outside.

“Oh God, good? Or oh God, bad?” Pike questioned, feathering his fingers over your heat in exploration.

“Ohhhhhhhh” you managed to get out before your eyelids fluttered closed in submission. Jesus Christ you should get snowed in more often. Oh. So much of the last four years felt like an emotional wasteland of desperation. Oh. All of it was crashing down with each healing pulse of Pike’s fingers. Oh. Over. And over. And over. Your mind was completely blank with pleasure, whitewashed as the pristine snow outside. Oh. Oh. Oh. You grabbed at whatever purchase you could find, the loop of his sweatpants, the heated forearm that slipped from your grasp…finally moving your hands upward to your own temples and dragging your fingers across your scalp. You thought you might shatter underneath the immediate intimacy of the moment, listening to Pike’s heavy breathing and trying to keep your eyes open in awareness.

“Honey, you’ve gotta talk to me, I’m flying blind here…” Pike pleaded, grinding his hips painfully into the side of yours and swallowing back his desperation. 

It was all so much. You hadn’t been with anyone in years, and the sensations were so heightened in this surreal landscape, you felt like your body was euphorically careening out of control. If this was how you entered immortality, you could definitely think of worse ways to go. But there was a smaller, indulgent part of you that somehow wanted more. You didn’t know how you could want more than eternity, but you wanted to enjoy him. This was about so much more than survival. You wanted to enjoy your own humanity, and somehow, it was all slipping away from you. You wanted to give yourself, mind, soul and personhood to the beautiful man wrapped pliantly around your quivering form, but how could you give something that was spiraling out of your own consciousness?

“Pleeeeease…” you whined, arching your back off the ground and into Pike’s undulating body.

“Please what, honey? Tell me what you need…” Pike groaned into your ear, splaying a hand across your back.

The devastating reality crashed around you and before you could think, you heard your own faltering voice utter the word, “Stop”. You were eons away from your own self, but desperate to stay fully present in Pike’s passionate grasp. Marcus froze, pulling his hand away and looking deeply into your countenance with a confused expression. 

“Stop? Did you say stop?” Pike whispered, drawing both hands up to your face and jolting you out of your disorienting reverie. With a gasp of stark realization, your eyes shot open in surprise, as you felt the unyielding support of the hard wooden floor beneath you. Every sense came rushing back in a myriad of confusing palettes. The cold, tingling ice hovering just outside your cozy cocoon. The heat of Pike’s breath, shuddering against your own. The sharp musk of your own arousal, buttering Pike’s fingers. And the salty release of your own tumult, bubbling to the surface in wracking sobs.

“I’m soooooorrry!” you wailed quietly, your mouth falling open in a silent cry, utilizing the entire force of your body to smash Marcus towards you abruptly. Gripping Pike aggressively with your legs you squeezed his torso towards you, pressing his hardened length into your hip, as he winced with sensitivity. You grabbed the back of his neck, digging your fingers into his hair and pulling tautly, feeling his entire body stiffen with confusion and slowly melt back into you with supplication.

“Wt’s h’ppng?” Pike mumbled awkwardly into your chest as your hiccups slowly morphed into clumsy laughter, shaking your head in disbelief. What were you doing? What kind of Hallmark movie special was this? You suddenly laughed out loud thinking of the incredulity of a National Geographic episode documenting this fumbling attempt at survival.

“Okay, we’re laughing, that’s good…I think? I feel like there are some…conflicting messages here…” Pike hesitantly started smiling with you, as his body relaxed fully into yours. “That wasn’t…” Pike squeezed himself out of your vice like grip just far enough to look into your face impishly. “Was that good for you?” he teased, contorting his face in a ridiculous expression.

‘Oh, my love!” you exclaimed, immediately clapping your hand over your mouth and dissolving into another fit of giggles. Pike’s face exploded into the light of a thousand stars with the possibility of your unheeded admission, collapsing his body weight back into you with relief and continued incredulity.

“I don’t understand what’s happening here, but I’m here for it” Pike confessed, shaking his head confusedly and stroking your hair with tenderness. “I seem to have a confusing affect on women…” he self-deprecatingly offered, struggling to understand the nuances of your unspoken reaction, and beginning to wipe the tears from your face.

“I’m…sorry…let me…see if I can explain” your laughter calmed down a bit as Pike patiently waited for your next move. In the interim, his gaze longingly drifted over your exposed form as he shut his eyes tightly, his body immediately reacting against you.

“Grandma Pike, Grandma Pike, Grandma Pike…” he started repeating, laughing to himself ashamedly, as you erupted into another fit of tittering. You both took a moment to breath, a thin sheen of perspiration already cooling against your goose-bumped skin.

“Why are you so amazing?” you finally asked, drawing your hands around his back and pressing your lips lightly to his. Humming into his mouth, you abandoned yourself to the contented sensations as your body regulated itself back to normalcy. After a few minutes, Pike paused to catch his breath, stretching out his arm for you to cradle your head against.

“Are we feeling warmer?” he sighed, turning his head towards you and smiling dopily.

“Oh yes, I’m definitely aglow with the Christmas spirit” you observed, turning a new idea around in your mind seductively. “Ummm…you know, turns out even during an apocalyptic blizzard, I seem to move slow as molasses”. 

Pike interrupted with an exhortation of support. “It’s really fine” he drawled “ You know, sometimes I still feel so adolescent. Having you here, in my arms. I’m the luckiest guy in the world…” he grinned, the dimples in his cheeks cutting a devastating profile in the cabin’s candlelight. You sighed contentedly in his embrace, wrapping yourself in the cozy safety of one another. Listening to the bickering winds outside, you thought you could almost hear the strong pulse of Pike’s heartbeat beside you. Grounding you. Magnetically pulling you. Centering you.

“What if you got lucky in more ways than one?” you asked, drawing a finger lazily across Pike’s honeyed chest. Marcus paused, unsure of your meaning. “What if we just did YOU, tonight?” you bluntly offered, a devilish grin beginning to grace the corners of your mouth. Pike seemed to stall in confusion, finally sitting bolt upright and taking the blanket’s warmth with him in a tent of surprise. “PIKE!” you shouted, grabbing at his blanketed form and beckoning him back to the soft chrysalis of your own body. Pike wrapped you up in a tight embrace as you both snickered together.

“I can’t do that, Pink” he chuckled bashfully. The lady always cums first” he cast his eyes downward shyly, but nodding definitively.

“But what if…I asked? What if that’s what I wanted?” you timidly bit your lower lip, unsure if your request would resonate with him at all. Pike swallowed hard, his eyes widening to large saucers as he inquisitively stroked the sides of your face. “It might take me a minute to figure out what I want, but when I do…” you let the statement hang in the air openly.

“We’ll go slow?” Pike finally rasped, drawing a forefinger across your lower lip tentatively.

“Mmmm…slow” you repeated, dragging your hands down the front of his body and reaching his hips.

“I don’t wanna hurt you” he moaned into your chest, desperately trying to slow the yearnings of his body, but being unsuccessful.

“I think you’ve primed me MORE than enough, Art Squad” you agreed, feeling the sticky arousal of your own passions. Pulling Pike’s face into both hands you gulped sardonically, “FOR SURVIVAL”.

Pike returned the smile, “FOR SURVIVAL”. Moving his hands between your tangled bodies, he felt the slick of your heat between his fingers, groaning softly to himself with appreciation. Shifting his body to meet yours he removed his length from his pants, pumping himself a few times with your arousal. “Ready?” he winced, steeling himself for the entry.

“Ready or not, here we cum?” you tried to joke, breathing deeply in anticipation. Pike’s eyes were trained on you fixedly as he notched himself at your entrance. Your mouth fell open in awareness as he inched himself into you, achingly slowly. A whine caught in his throat as he gave himself over to the nestled feeling of your core pulsing around him. You realized you were holding your breath and tried to relax in his embrace, as you opened your eyes, taking in the euphoric expression painted across his face. 

“Are you okay?” Pike hissed in through his mouth pointedly as you shifted your hips beneath him. Pausing in acceptance, you drew his shivering body towards you, erotically pulling your nails across his broad back.

“I’m here” you whispered into his ear, indulging in the connection of the moment, the world finally stilling around you. At peace. Calm. And alive. Oh so very alive.

“I’m not going to last long…” Pike gritted his teeth stubbornly, his brow furrowed in concentration one second, and relaxation the next.

“You’ve got me” you inhaled, the heat of your bodies sticking to one another with newfound perspiration, melting like two icicles in the warmth. Pike pulled out at least half way before slowly re-entering your body as tenderly as he could. You both moaned synergistically. 

“Again” you pleaded, drinking in the indulgent expression on Pike’s countenance. He repeated his movements, gaining a rhythm in pulsing clarity.

“More” you encouraged, feeling his biceps taut beneath your fingertips, salty sweat dotting his forehead. Focusing completely on his reactions, his groans of pleasure and the beauty of his body, you felt yourself swept away in intimacy. Here, together, at the end of the world. There was no place you would rather be.

“Oh…please…” Pike whined, his gyrations powerful and languid, starting to falter with the effort of restraint. “Where do you want me?” he managed to ask through bouts of delight.

“I want everything” you growled, your focus a pinpoint of realization, heightened awareness to the pout of his lips, the crinkle in the corners of his eyes. “In me. Inside” you grasped at a hidden assertion you’d never previously articulated. “Cum for me” you begged, grasping his backside with both of your hands and drawing his hips towards you further. 

Pike groaned loudly, finally giving in to the powerful urges, pulsing and stuttering within you as you fluttered around him. Feeling his entire body convulse against you was like a beam of light penetrating the darkness of the night. There was no storm. No cabin. No Pike. No you. Just Love. Enveloped in the warmth of love, you felt your heart blossom and expand within you. Love. Love. Love. It was a strange death of self, offering an almost immediate and illumined rebirth. Somehow, everything was going to be alright. You didn’t understand the details, and in this moment, you didn’t care. You were together, and that was all that mattered.

Pike finally stilled, collapsing his weight gently atop you as you gripped him with your knees. Drawing your fingers up and through his hair you felt his heartbeat pounding wildly against your chest, calmed by his deep breathing and smiling contentedly to yourself. Marcus moaned happily into your sternum, swallowing dryly as you wiped a small bead of sweat from the corner of his hairline.

He suddenly sat up, bleary eyed and swaying, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he gulped, blinking quickly and trying to focus on your dazed expression underneath the pile of blankets you were swathed beneath.

“Honey, if this is how you treat ALL the visitors at Pike’s Place, you’ve got a gold star establishment on your hands…” you teased, gripping his backside and squeezing tightly, feeling him twitch within you. Marcus hissed inward, eyelids half mast in euphoria, easing himself back atop you tenderly.

“On my hands and in my arms…” he mumbled, burying his face into your bosom and peppering feather-light kisses across your breasts affectionately. You chuckled with delight, listening to the swirling winds outside, and feeling PIke’s broad shoulders caging you in. Forming sweeping circles against his back, you relished in the incremental nuances of his relaxation, finally seeing his forehead devoid of worry and concern, as his breathing slowed to a steady, soothing rhythm. You kissed him tenderly at the crown of his head, surprised at how warm it had actually become. Survival 101 indeed. 

Fairly certain that Pike was drifting off to sleep, you didn’t want to move a muscle. Housed in the contented cocoon of your sweetly entangled bodies, within the eye of the storm, you felt as though your emotions, your very soul had expanded beyond the cozy confines of the moment. Feeling the juxtaposition of Pike’s relaxed body, anchoring you to the floor, you mirrored his deep breathing, grounding yourself in the beautiful intimacy that two individuals can experience together, for so much more than survival. Keeping your body perfectly still your eyes tried to take in Marcus’ profile, serenely placid amidst the outside, buffeting winds, protected securely against your supple form. In your tender embrace you promised to care for this man the way he had cared for you. Whatever the future held, the experience of Love was transformational, allowing for so much more than just humanity’s survival. It was infinite. It was eternal. And you somehow felt as though you sacredly held it, in the palm of your hand. 

Shaking your head slightly with chagrin, you watched Pike’s eyelids flutter in sleep, magnetically drawn into your own dreamscape. Silly thoughts for a silly girl, you mused. Talk about afterglow. And why not? In the place of a cheery hearth, the fire of your heart had ignited into a flame of more than just passion. You were basking in the very flame of Love; alight with the depth of Light itself.

You sighed contentedly with the re-discovery. It really is a wonderful life…

5-4-3-2-1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! The crowd was shouting euphorically around you as the familiar refrain of “Auld Lang Syne” played in the background, but you and Pike might as well have still been in the cozy cabin. Locked in one another’s embrace for the last hour on the dance floor, you couldn’t immediately pinpoint the difference between kissing and not kissing, the entire affair felt like a beautiful bubble of effervescence. You and Marcus kept swaying from side to side, looking deeply into one another’s eyes and not saying a word. You couldn’t believe how quickly the time had gone, here, in Washington D.C. With him. Seeing the massive building of the CIA Art Squad Division. Dropping into the Smithsonian every lunch break during your short visit to the East Coast. Ordering in Thai Food and watching old movies every evening, before making out or making love. It was like something from a Hallmark Movie, and it turned out, it wasn’t just limited to apocalyptic circumstances, or the cozy cocoon of Pike’s Place. It all felt like a dream, and a dream that was going to be ending far too soon.

“What are you thinking about” Pike mouthed, amidst the din of surrounding humanity.

“You” you whispered into his ear, feeling a slight shiver travel down his back and through his fingertips at your explorative touch. You kitten licked into his ear as he crumpled against you, burying his face in your shoulder and chuckling. You grasped him around the waist to help hide the burgeoning tent in his dress pants, though doubtful anyone would have paid it much mind. It was the start of a New Year, and the possibilities were endless. You felt a pang of regret, remembering the brevity of your stay, and wondering what the future might hold for the start of such a promising relationship. Couples were heading out to the balcony for a champagne toast, as the band started to wrap up the evening’s events, leaving you and Pike a bit more space on the dance floor.

“I know what I’m thinking about” Pike jested, drawing two fingers up to your chin and brushing a light kiss against your awaiting lips.

“Let me guess” you drawled, teasing your tongue at the underside of Pike’s top lip, as he happily obliged. “When Harry Met Sally” you joked, pulling back abruptly and touching your nose tenderly to his.

“How very dare you” Marcus smiled, pulling a strand of hair gently from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone” he began…

“…you want the rest of your life to start as SOON as possible” you finished, nibbling at his neck and enjoying the friction of his winter beard chaffing slightly at your reddened cheeks.

“Ohhh gawd…move in with me” Pike sighed, freezing slightly at the unbidden yearning in his tone, as you cocked your eyebrows sky high and ceased the characteristic couple’s sway.

“Excuuuse me?” you questioned, not entirely shocked at the enthusiastic show of romance, but immediately pondering the logistics of your answer. Pike winced with embarrassment, furrowing his brow in immediate consternation. 

Biting his lower lip he immediately back-pedaled, “God, I’ve done it again” Pike shook his head forlornly, stepping back from you about a foot, and bringing his hand awkwardly to the back of his neck, as you felt the immediate loss of his body contact. “PLEASE…forget I said anything. DUMB OLD MARCUS STRIKES AGAIN!” Pike wouldn’t even meet your eyes as he attempted to downplay the very sweet and courageous offer, given his past relationship. “Did I not learn ANYTHING from Lisbon?” his voice cracked a bit as you noticed a soft sheen tinge his eyes, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…hang on Art Squad” you tiptoed forward, grasping him around the waist once again, as though approaching a wounded animal. Pike stood stiffly, his hand at his sides, but you felt an infinitesimal relaxation in his shoulders as you nuzzled up against his chest, attempting to avoid placing lipstick all over the starched armor. “I just need a second, you kind of surprised me…” you exhaled, casting a sideways glance to the couples and groups shuffling out of the dance hall with tittering laughter. “These last few days have been AMAZING…” you began, feeling Marcus pull against you with a large intake of air, and standing to his full height.

“Too soon. It was too soon. It was too much. I did it again…” he started rambling haphazardly as you clamped his lips shut with two fingers abruptly.

“Shut up” you rolled your eyes, attempting to diffuse, but inwardly oscillating between heightened sensitivity for Pike’s admission, and your own ebullience at the possibility. Could you permanently move to the East Coast? The pandemic had so isolated your friendships, adventures and possibilities, but were you finally looking into the silver lining? Almost ALL of your work was now remote. That’s the main reason you had unknowingly ventured to Pike’s Place to begin with. Was this a dream that could possibly come to fruition, not just in spite of your recent turmoil, but somehow BECAUSE of it? You thought back to your East Coast college days, and how much you had enjoyed the changing of seasons, the arts and culture…And pausing to look at the doe-eyed countenance of your boyfriend, whose mouth was still softly muffled by your small hand, you were looking at reason #1 for the next great adventure standing directly in front of you.

“Wht I MNT t sy wzzz…” Pike mumbled comedically into your hand as you started swaying from side to side in an acapella dance. Pike pouted dramatically, taking your hand away from his mouth and grasping it firmly in his own clasp.

“I love you” you whispered, as Pike halted completely in his tracks, grasping your face with both hands imploringly. “I. Love. You” you enunciated for effect, watching the pool of emotions swim in Pike’s longing eyes. 

“Pink?” Pike’s voice echoed from outside your mind, juxtaposed by his unmoving mouth. You hummed happily in your sleep, sighing sweetly, “I love you, Pike”. Your eyelids fluttered quickly as Marcus drew a finger across your forehead, moving his thumb sensually to your mouth. Squinting into the dull sunlight, you blinked at Pike’s near angelic expression, as his eyes crinkled with acknowledgement and enjoyment in the cabin’s atmosphere.

“Oh!” you laughed, rubbing your eyes tiredly and immediately marveling at Pike’s smooth skinned torso. “Good morning!” you yawned, gathering the blankets up around you and stretching like a cat in the noonday. “Have we survived the apocalypse?” you asked, one eye closed in beleaguered submission.

“I don’t think I ever saw those techniques highlighted in ‘Doctor Zhivago’, but National Geographic should really be consulting US for the future…” Pike sighed, licking his thumb and rubbing the sleep from the corner of your eye.

You gasped in surprise at the continued intimacy, crumpling shyly against his penetrative gaze. This didn’t feel like a one night stand, even if Pike had no where to escape to…Well, except Washington D.C. Shit. Your face immediately crinkled with pain, reflecting on your recent dream.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Pike stilled momentarily, wrapping a tentative hand around your waist. “I hate to remind you that we’re still stuck in the tundra, so you’re not gonna be able to escape me that easily…” he teased, pinching your lower lip between two fingers pensively. “Any regrets?” he winced, closing his hand in a fist quickly and holding his breath. “I know I always get ahead of myself, but you might have one of the BEST reasons on the planet for no strings attached. I….” Pike rubbed at the back of his neck with a moment’s hesitation before plowing forward. “Ah hell, who am I kidding? I’ve spent the last 30 minutes watching you sleep and trying to pick out puppy names if we got a golden retriever…” he admitted with embarrassment. “Geez, maybe it should be a Siberian Husky…” he chuckled, before you unabashedly wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling and peppering kisses all over his face.

“This is REALLY forward of you” Pike teased, closing his eyes in submission and smiling with delight. “Here at Pike’s Place, we generally don’t fraternize with the clientele…” he couldn’t finish the ridiculous statement as your lips were passionately placed against his, moving against his mouth with supplication. Marcus sighed into your mouth, pulling back to tuck those pesky strands of hair behind your ears once again. “Do you want your Christmas present now?” he whispered. You held back a squeal of delight, clapping your hands together quickly. 

“Yes please!” you begged, sitting up halfway and squinting at the unlit Christmas Tree and the lonely manilla envelope that had kept you both company all night. The cabin was still chilly, but you noticed the winds had significantly died down, the sun was shining brightly and the snowfall seemed to have at least paused. Perhaps you and Pike had rounded the corner of survival and were going to make it after all. Marcus pulled his nearby sweatpants on, shivering slightly without the warmth of your body pressed to him and tiptoed carefully to the tree, running back into your grabbing embrace, hugging the manila folder between the two of your bodies awkwardly. Already pouting at his more clothed form, you taunted, “Woooo! Take it off! Snowpacolypse be damned!"

Relishing the abrasive scratch of his developing beard against your neck, he tucked in further to the cloud of blankets and renewed warmth. “My life flashed before my eyes just now, I barely made it back to you…” he joked, licking a tickling trail up your neck before pausing retrospectively. “I’ve turned into George Bailey!” he brightened, taking in your beaming countenance. 

“Okay, Mr. Cinema, you’ve got your audience right where you want them. What is this clandestine gift you’ve planned, without the benefit of a Macy’s or Santa himself? I doubt he could get in through the chimney last night…” you smirked, nose to nose with your holiday benefactor.

“Eh, it’s nothing much…” he immediately back-pedaled, unsure of your reaction. “You know how much I’m always doodling in my notebook…and…well, it’s no Picasso. And thank heavens, because I’m not sure how much you know about art history…” he began rambling before you placed the folder tenderly over his mouth. “Pike?” his doe eyes peeked mischievously over the rim of the manilla. “Hmph” he mumbled against it. “Shut up”. “Hmph” he acquiesced with twinkling eyes. Unable to wait a moment longer you opened the manilla folder as a single sheet of paper fluttered between the space of your bodies. Breathing inward, you marveled at the instantaneous recognition. It was you. Pike had sketched a portrait…of you. Your fingers traveled delicately over the surface of the paper, marveling at the detail and the care that had been invested in the unexpected gift.

“You told me the best gift you ever received was a re-appreciation of…yourself. And I couldn’t agree more!” he shrugged, crinkling his nose with self-deprecation. “But next year I’ll get you a bracelet or something, if this isn’t…” you interrupted him again with a barrage of kisses, before chastising, “you are the most ridiculous man I have ever met in my life”. He smiled affectionately, pecking you on the lips, “I love you too, Pink”.

Before you had a moment to react, several things transpired at once. The cabin abruptly blazed to life in a surprising spike of energy as the heater hesitantly clicked back to life, and the television renewed its fuzzy depiction of Bedford Falls. You and Pike gawked at one another effervescently, and before shouting in exclamation, the phone rang.

The phone rang? 

You and Pike fumbled with the blankets, the folder and one another, jumping to your feet in a tangle of arms and legs, Marcus grabbing at his nearby sweater and you stuffing your legs haphazardly into the nearby snow suit. Giggling and chasing one another into the study, Pike nearly yanked the phone out of its socket, laughing uproariously, “Pike’s Place! We have no room at the inn right now, how may I direct your call?” he clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle more laughter at your incredulous expression, waiting for his report. 

“Absolutely” he agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically, “that sounds perfect. We’ll be waiting! Thanks again!” he hung up the phone peering at you enthusiastically.

“WELL?” you shouted gleefully, waiting for Pike’s explanation.

“Telemarketer” he pouted, blocking the onslaught of punches and tickles directed at his midriff. “Surrender! I surrender” he chuckled, grabbing you easily around the waist and pulling you into his frame. “That was the mechanic down the road” he mumbled into your ear, eliciting a tingling shiver down the length of your body. “He’s been calling everyone in the neighborhood now that the phone lines are back in operation. He just wanted to let us know the power is back on, and they’ve started making the rounds to check on everyone” Marcus ironically explained, turning you around in his grasp and kissing you on the nose. “Assuming the pipes have thawed, I’m thinking…pancakes?” he grinned broadly.

“Coffee” you whined, collapsing your hips against his and indulging in a tentative exploration of his morning…excitement. 

“Coming up m’lady” he mumbled into your mouth, dragging you into the kitchen for breakfast.

Everything started to happen so quickly at that point. Pike began making the morning pancakes as you tidied up the warming cabin. Placing your portrait on the hearth you beamed excitedly at the relit Christmas Tree, and smiled with acknowledgement as George Bailey once against learnt the true meaning of the holidays. You were desperately trying to balance the bubbling excitement of your new lease on life, the promising declarations of Pike earlier that morning and your own burgeoning feelings of optimism. But what if you were wrong? What if the intensity of the last few days was all an illusion, and you were destined to return to the loneliness of your previous life? There was only one way to find out, you finally decided, watching Pike dance around the kitchen casually, sporting his cooking apron that said, “Who needs a hug?”

“Is it hot in here, or is that just me?” Pike twirled with pancakes plated, flashing a dazzling smile to your incredulous laughter. 

“That’s definitely you, Art Squad, though it IS markedly warmer since…” your voice trailed off as flashes of the evening flickered in an unbidden montage across your mindscape. Your cheeks reddened with more than the newfound heat, as Pike deftly brought the pancakes and a cup of steaming joe to the table.

“M’lady” he gestured an extra flourish, dipping his thumb into his mouth as he caught a stray droplet of coffee, soon grabbing the defrosting syrup from the fridge. His kitchen waltz faltered for a millisecond as he flashed on the realization that you weren’t “his” at all. The intimacy of the night and intoxication of survival had only fueled his characteristic enthusiasm, but small cracks of reality were starting to dot the periphery of his thinking. You were both alive. You had survived the winter storm together, but had Pike unthinkingly placed both of you in another inescapable conundrum? There was nothing conventional or planned about the quick courtship of your emergency encounter, but the familiar stab of uncertainty cut at Pike like the butter knife he was retrieving from the utensils drawer. He painstakingly thought back to every word, every decision on the bumpy road of your mutual survival. You had fallen like a Christmas gift, into his very lap, but it all seemed too good to be true. Somehow, he had fucked up AGAIN. He had learned nothing from the relationship with Lisbon, and was once again planning a beautiful life with a woman who owed him absolutely nothing. The force of his own emotion was hanging like an anchor around his neck, but he couldn’t ask you to make still more sacrifices. You had already opened yourself up to him in so many tender and loving ways, he wasn’t going to entitle himself to something he could never deserve. He was heading to Washington D.C. and you were here in not-so-sunny California. Nothing had changed. An insurmountable stack of rationalities descended on Pike as he somberly sat down at the table, his mood noticeably dampened.

“Uh…here take the last of the syrup” he deflated, shoving it forward to your surprised expression as you noticed the tonal shift.

“Aw, what happened to Danny Kaye?” you pondered, “I thought I was gonna get a re-enactment of ‘White Christmas’ with my side of pancakes!” you chirped, buzzing tentatively with the excitement of the morning’s possibilities.

“Well, after last night, we don’t need any more snow to set the mood. That’s enough of a white Christmas for me…” Pike chuckled forlornly, clasping his hands defeatedly in his lap and pensively pursing his lips. He sighed with relief watching you practically inhale the fragrant beverage, your eyelids fluttering shut with enjoyment. 

“Gawd, I’m gonna miss Pike’s Place…” you moaned rapturously, still oblivious to Marcus’ inner monologue and digging in to your pancakes with a child-like voracity. With your eyes shut to the world and all its obligations, you had missed the flicker of pain that shot across Pike’s face, as he picked at his own breakfast, suddenly without appetite.

“I’m not sure why…” Marcus mumbled, atypically depressed and shoving the food around his plate with a pout. “All I ever do is…fail” the words fell from his lips unintentionally as your eyes shot open with incredulity.

“WHT?” you nearly yelled, with a mouthful of food threatening to spew in his face. “R U insne?” you chomped quickly, trying not to choke and finally taking in Pike’s hunched shoulders and crumpled expression. You swallowed carefully, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m sorry, did the hypothermia just set in retroactively, or am I hallucinating?” you joked, your forehead pinching upwards with disbelief. “Is there ANY scenario where I’m still alive WITHOUT Agent Pike?” you offered, still confused at his glaring lack of self-confidence. “I don’t wanna give you a big head or anything, but last night was…beneficial for many, many reasons…” you smirked, trying to get a read on Pike’s unknown meaning.

Enigmatically, your words seemed to have the unintentionally opposite effect, as Pike sank further still into dejection, his circumstantial oppression growing by the minute. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Under no circumstances could he return to the offices that Lisbon haunted, and his entire life had already been boxed and shipped to Washington D.C. He was more assured than ever of his professional passions, but how did that support you or the love that was starting to blossom in this epicenter of winter? How could he fix what he was accidentally breaking?

“I….” Pike’s voice cracked with the weighted heaviness of emotion. “I’m going to miss you too” he heaved a sigh of regret, casting a quick glance at the portrait displayed on the hearth. He couldn’t even take that with him, shaking his head helplessly. At least he could end this before breaking your heart as well.

“Don’t you want to know what your Christmas gift is?” you teased, until Pike pushed his uneaten plate harshly away.

“I need to end this now…” Pike bluntly stated, his face adopting a stoic, nearly unrecognizable mask of frigidity. 

“What, breakfast?” you stalled, your heart lurching forward unexpectedly, catapulted faster than your brain could rally.

“This. Us….I need to end…us…”. The tree leaning against the cabin creaked sinisterly, Pike’s confession dousing the entire cabin in an ethereal, emotional cold.

“What?” you whispered, not believing your ears. Marcus had JUST been talking about plans and puppies…and pancakes. What had transpired in the last few minutes unbeknownst to you? This was so unlike the romantic persona you had come to know and…love…you started laughing awkwardly in disbelief. “Okay, very funny, Art Squad…” you ignored the heavy-laden pounding creeping up the back of your neck as the blood rushed to your ears uncomfortably.

“I’m serious, Pink, I can’t fail you again. If I had lost you…” Pike pressed his lips together harshly, stifling a sob. “I can’t ask you to…I don’t deserve…” he started rambling almost incoherently to himself, rubbing at his forehead desperately. “If I can’t keep you safe here at Pike’s Place, you have no business being with me anywhere else…” he mumbled under his breath, no longer making eye contact, his knee jerking sporadically under the table with anxiety.

What was happening? You felt your stomach drop sickeningly in your stomach, willing yourself not to retch, as a tight ball formed in the back of your throat. This was it. This was the exact nightmare you had been dreading since you arrived at Pike’s Place, but with every incremental step into Marcus’ optimism you had timidly left the sparse, armored existence of the pandemic. The feelings of betrayal, the isolation, the helplessness had all begun to vanish, but you felt your renewed self-confidence and resolve start to dissipate like the melting snow.

“You don’t….want this?” you rasped, tears annoyingly brimming at the edges of your eyes. You didn’t dare move for fear every sorrow would come tumbling out of your mouth and heart with no censorship whatsoever. Pike dragged his eyes up to meet yours, his soul shattering into a thousand penetrative shards. 

What had he done? HOW was he always making the wrong decision, and hurting the people he cared about the most? He wanted to rush over to your side of the table and bury his face in your lap, begging forgiveness, but his hands held him decisively to his dining room chair.  He wanted so much more for you. It was time to stop thinking so selfishly and grow up. Christmas miracles were for Pike’s Place and Bedford Falls…but not for him. 

Your mouth was so dry, you weren’t sure you could articulate any sound but you managed to croak, “I need to hear you say it”, tumultuously wringing your hands together.

Pike looked at you incredulously as though you had just asked him to murder his best friend. Pausing heavily and taking a deep breath, he finally uttered “I…can’t…” clearing his throat painfully, “I…don’t…want this”, a crushing weight descended on his chest as though the cabin had collapsed on top of every hope and dream, suffocating the very life he had so desperately prayed for. 

You stood shakily, your hands wrapped protectively around your body in case it decided to shatter on the spot. “Thank you for breakfast. I’ll pack…” you mumbled, floating somewhere between searing disbelief and emotional disassociation. Pike stood, his hand extending towards you as you stumbled up the stairs amidst a flurry of sobs and sniffles. Unable to tear his gaze away from you, the door shut softly, leaving Pike alone in the living room as George Bailey’s countenance flickered cinematically at the bridge’s edge. Marcus collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, barring your exit, and hanging his head in both his hands despairingly. What had he done?

Walking into the upstairs bedroom for the last time, you looked around at your meager belongings, your entire stay at Pike’s Place a confusing barrage of unbidden images. Marcus’ swaying, tipsy form, rooting you to your own emotional indecision. His angelic appearance with a plate of pancakes. Your ridiculous pink snowsuit. 

Giving yourself the task of packing, you expected the tears to start flowing haphazardly, but nothing immediately came. Just memory after memory of Pike’s Place. Making snow angels in the front yard, eating far too many chocolate chip cookies, wriggling your toes against Pike’s warm body as you watched holiday movies together. What had gone wrong? The isolation of the pandemic had completely gaslighted your resource for human connection and intuition. But the time spent at Pike’s Place had begun to solidify who you were and what you wanted. Were you still so disconnected from society and self that you couldn’t see clearly into the future of your very own desires? You flashed on decorating the tree, intimate conversations and your hapless attempts at dinner that Pike had endlessly encouraged. Swallowing the lump of emotion threatening to overwhelm, you reached out in your mind to touch Marcus’ face tenderly. Just hours ago, his smile had been yours. His lips had been yours. His body had been yours. Was all of that an illusion of survival? You gripped your lips tightly together with a renewed resolve. 

Main. Character. Energy.

A clarity of realization started to descend on you as you laced up your snow boots definitively. You had the sneaking suspicion Marcus was holding back, hesitant to repeat any past mistakes with Lisbon, and ultimately trying to protect you in the shifting landscape of his transition to Washington D.C.. But none of that mattered, because you finally knew what you wanted. The pandemic had liberated your life in more ways than one, and you were ready to step into your own self-actualization and speak up. If Pike decided to remove his light from your life, that would be his choice, but it wasn’t going to happen without your protestations. You journey may have felt like helpless wandering, but maybe you were no longer as lost as you previously thought. For better or worse THIS Donna Reed wasn’t running away from George Bailey, she was running straight towards him. You just weren’t entirely sure if he would be waiting with arms outstretched, or determined to question his life choices, and unwilling to embrace the love that stood right before him.

Pike couldn’t stop pacing around the cabin, weighing his options. He felt as though his heart were going to come racing out of his chest, following you to whatever corners of the earth you decided to inhabit. He’d always been an impulsive person, but this felt like something very different. All of these moments spent together, and somehow he was still running out of time. The clocks in the cabin were all bizarrely wrong since the power outage, but his internal compass was finally starting to align. It just seemed as though the current moment were slipping through his fingers like melting snow. 

He hadn’t lied. He didn’t want this. More specifically…

He didn’t want…JUST…this.

He didn’t want to break your heart. He didn’t want to ask for more. He didn’t want to see you go, and he wanted so much more than just Pike’s Place. He wanted his very own “It’s a Wonderful Life”, and he wanted it all…WITH YOU. Nearly giddy from the rush of adrenaline and euphoria, this was more than simple affection or even primal survival. This was Love. He’d recognize it anywhere. He looked down at the delicate portrait of you, he held sacredly in his hands. 

He’d rush up the stairs and proclaim his undying love! 

Stupid Marcus, that’s how you ended up at Pike’s Place to begin with, he reasoned.

He’d lock you up in the cabin, until you changed your mind! Pike rolled his eyes sardonically. This wasn’t “Misery”.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Love wasn’t about captivity, entitlement, or possession. Love had everything to do with freedom. He took a deep breath, stilling his mind and heart in the process. He’d have to let you go. A lifetime of chasing, both professionally and personally, and his most important decision he ever made…was to finally surrender. And if Love came back to him, knocking on his doorstep once again…

Pike was jolted from his reverie by a knock at the door. He nearly dropped the portrait, startling, as he caught the skeptical face of the town’s mechanic peering at him from the repaired window. “Hell of a bang up job, Pike!” the mechanic’s muffled voice resonated. “Who’s car is that, down the road?”

Holding your suitcase valiantly in one hand, and your trusty crowbar in the other, you were determined to express your thoughts as quickly as possible before chickening out. You would just explain you feelings to Pike, blizzard be damned, and whatever his response, at least you had finally followed your heart. Yanking the door open courageously, you charged down the stairs with as much confidence as you could muster.

“Iheardeverywordthatyousaidanditdoesnotmatteroneiota.IknowthewayIfeelaboutyouandafterlastnightIthinkIknowhowyoufeelaboutmeyouarejustafraidtotrustyourselforanyoneelsebutyoudeserveeverythingPike.Youdeserveloveandsacrificeandromanceandme!AndbeforeyousayanotherwordIamgoingtogiveyouyourChristmaspresent…”

Reaching the bottom of the stairs you were met by an unexpected sight, as Pike stood despondently, your portrait cradled tenderly in his hands. Standing next to him was a complete stranger, clad in head to toe winter wear, awkwardly grasping his hat between his oil stained hands.

“Well hey there, little lady, you must be the passenger Pike was just telling me about…” he began, extending a greasy hand toward you and taking the suitcase from your surprised grasp.“The cavalry is here! We’ll just tow you back to town lickety split and have you on your way before you can say ‘Jingle Bell Rock’. Pike was just telling me about your travel troubles. He hasn’t been giving you any problems, has he?” the mechanic joked, elbowing Pike in the side.

Marcus looked completely dejected as he hugged the portrait to his chest, a wan smile  of defeat pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Pretty sure you saved my life, Pink” he mumbled, willing you to somehow telepathically understand his meaning before you exited his life permanently.

You opened your mouth several times to start speaking, but nothing materialized in the oddity of the moment. This wasn’t part of the plan. You couldn’t bare your soul to Pike with…a crowbar.

“Don’t think you’ll be needing that anymore” the mechanic questioningly deprived you of the tool, tucking it under his arm securely. “Already got the Hyundai jacked up to the tow. Let’s get you back to town before that blizzard kicks up again, missy” he tried to encourage, accidentally bumping Pike’s shoulder on the way to the door. Lugging your possessions heftily he flung the door open to the steely ice of winter, yelling back at Marcus on the exit, “Hell of a bang up job, Pike. Didn’t think city folk had any business being in the country. Glad to see you didn’t get the little lady killed!” he joked, hiking the snowy length of a football field to the awaiting tow truck. Watching him recede in the distance, Pike swallowed hard, hesitantly reaching out with quivering hands.

“Merry Christmas” his voice cracked, as the portrait fluttered helplessly in the wind. “Thanks for coming to Pike’s Place” he nearly whispered, blinking back the tears, unable to meet your eyes directly.

A wash of emotion overwhelmed, as you bypassed his outstretched hand and flung yourself into his embrace. Pike stood stoically fixed in place, ensuring he didn’t grasp you tightly and never let go. He closed his eyes painfully, breathing in your soft fragrance and melting slightly into your desperate hold.

“I’ll never forget you, Pike” you cried quietly, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him passionately on the mouth. You felt his stance falter in the winter wind, as he kissed you back fervently. Breaking the kiss quickly, you cut a quick path to the doorway, not looking back, and closing the door behind you.

Bracing yourself against the icy tundra you hefted one heavy step after another, listening to the crunch of snow beneath your booted feet. Your tears began to chill against the steely wind, punctuated by the rhythm of your begrudging dirge. Just keep walking. One step after another. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don’t act. Pike is better off without you, and some things are just too good to be true. The words bit at your heels, spurring you onward, as your heart twisted within your chest. Peering down the road you saw Bessie the Hyundai hitched up to the tow and the mechanic piling your belongings into the back of his truck. You stopped dead in your tracks, casting a longing glance back at the cabin. It no longer had the telltale, cheery plume of smoke drifting from the tree-covered chimney. It wasn’t the Normal Rockwell painting you remembered from a week earlier, but it held so much more poignancy and meaning than any flat landscape. Now small and lonely, silhouetted against the pristine winter backdrop, it was a receding memory of love and companionship highlighted against the harsh challenges of reality. A true home. Pike had been your safe haven. Your port in a storm. And here you were, running away from it.

“Well, what are you waiting for, little lady?!” the mechanic’s voice cut through the increasing winds, as he sat in the coach of his awaiting truck.

What WERE you waiting for?

Marcus stood alone in the warming living room, decidedly colder since your exit. Still holding the portrait in his shaking hands, he didn’t dare look at your smiling face in this moment. He gulped back the tears, numbly sitting on the couch and looking at the stilled fireplace. The Christmas Tree seemed to wink from the corner as he stared at the flickering television. Watching George Bailey run through the streets of Bedford Falls, he couldn’t take anymore. Reaching for the remote he defiantly shut off the Christmas flick, peering down at the floor where your passionate bodies had previously been locked in a survival embrace, now empty and solitary, showcased by the wintry sunshine. 

Finally hazarding a peek at the precious portrait in his hands, a single tear fell onto the notepaper, blurring his eyes and clarifying his longing. Another tear. Another tear. He set the page delicately on the couch beside him and finally let the emotion wash over him. Covering his face with his hands, his entire chest throbbed with a pulsing yearning that seemed to encapsulate life itself. You were gone. And he was the one who had let you go.

He tried to think ahead to his new life in Washington D.C, but every imagined location was peppered with images of you; touring the new CIA offices, visiting the Smithsonian, walking down the cherry blossom lined streets, and being in love. Being together.  Being with you. His heart lurched violently in his chest as he blearily smiled at the home made ornaments dotting the relit Christmas Tree. 

Pike’s Place had been an escape from the reality of all of his insecurity, all of his loss and all of his self doubt. Your unexpected emergence had jolted him from the isolation of his solitude and reminded him of the true meaning of Christmas. Giving. The gift of your presence and your love had not only saved his very life, but had given him a new hope for the future. A hope for the possibility of love. Not one that was based in flippant enthusiasm, but a grounding passion of intimacy and togetherness. Looking down at your sketched likeness, he plaintively smiled to himself, tracing his fingers over the contours of your freckled face. It didn’t make any sense, but somehow he knew his love had finally manifested itself in the best way he knew how; Love was in the gift. And in the surrendering of love with the hopeful promise of its someday return.

Marcus sniffled slightly, twisting his head as he heard the soft knocking at the door. He wasn’t looking forward to another awkward conversation with the mechanic, particularly through tear stained snuffles, but perhaps you had forgotten something. Hefting himself heavily off the couch and hugging the portrait to his chest he begrudgingly trudged to the door, opening it to find…you.

A vision in pink, not only from the ubiquitous, and ever-present snowsuit but from the glowing crimson of your frost-bitten cheeks and the rose-hued rim of your equally tear stained face. Seeing your figure standing before him was like an immediate breath of fresh air, counterpointed by the frosty breeze and sterling hope of possibility.

“Pink! I….I missed you…” he chuckled self-deprecatingly, not even attempting to hide the portrait cradled in his shuddering hands. With quivering lips he confusedly asked, “Did you…forget something?”

You hiccuped shakily, your smile broadening into a Cheshire-like grin. “I never gave you my Christmas present” you offered, shifting your weight from side to side in the cold. Pike stood dumbly in the doorway, his heart a pounding throb of bewilderment.

“M-my…Christmas present?” he mumbled, gazing at your face meticulously, as though memorizing it freckle for freckle.

“I…I don’t want to go back to my life in California” you finally breathed a sigh of relief with the admission you’d been preparing for the last 24 hours. Pike’s breath halted in his throat with tentative disbelief. “Something about my life stopped with the pandemic. The hysterectomy, the isolation, the disconnect…it was all tied to….me! Somehow I lost…ME. Wandering through the desolation of the last four years has finally brought me home. Home to myself. Home to my dreams. And home….to you Marcus. I want my home to be…with you”. The unyielding realization of your time at Pike’s Place came tumbling forward in a stream of passion as Pike’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers. “I want to move to Washington D.C…with YOU. If you’ll have me?” you finally offered, throwing up your hands in placation. Maybe you were being impulsive. Maybe you were being emotional. Maybe you were being characteristically “Pike” you observed internally, giggling with abandon. But you were finally stepping into your heart’s desire, as the main character, and it felt fucking amazing. “Merry Christmas?” you smirked, shrugging your shoulders and awaiting Pike’s response.

A momentary hesitation ensued as Pike remained frozen in the doorframe, gripping the portrait in a vice like embrace, his mouth parted slightly in surprise. As though watching a snowman melt on the spot, a beam of light began to flicker in Pike’s distant gaze, springing into a broad smile that enfolded his entire being. The portrait fluttered noiselessly to the ground, escaping his outstretched hands as he reached for you longingly.

“Merry Christmas!” he exclaimed, gripping you firmly around the waist and gently pulling you towards him.

“We can take it slow…” you began, until your lips were buried with his, tasting the salty sweetness of your shared tears and smiling mouths. A million thoughts cascaded through your mind considering your new life of possibilities, but only one thing really mattered. You were finally home. Home to yourself. Home to love. And home…with Pike.

“Merry Christmas, Pink” Pike mumbled into your mouth, laughing and crying with relief. Love had returned to him, on the very doorstep of Pike’s Place. And you were both reaching for it, with arms outstretched, never letting it go again.

*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers!

NewYorkNewYork

Okay Broadway Babies, Tumblr may have finished this trend, but Pedge and I are going strong! If RPF is for you, check out my most personal work yet, and first series. It's a fantastical journey through my professional time in NY, and what better way to celebrate than with Pedge at our side!

Triggers: Set in 2014, it might progress to some lite smut, but this first episode only includes a slightly tipsy trip and mild profanity. NYC is rough enough--save the drama for your llama...

New York, New York Series Moody Thespian Pedge Tweets Masterlist Moody Theater J's Jams

PedgesJukebox

I think we're done with this trend, but Pedge and I still like it, and invite you to check out Pedge's Jukebox when you you get a chance!

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy! I also am secretly hoping writers might utilize this playlists for inspiration. I can't write with music in the background, but some people can. Every Spotify list comes with it's own triggers and literary short for our favorite characters interaction with the arts...

Series Masterlist

PedgesBookshop

We're open for business! Joel doesn't seem to know that yet, but stop in the foyer to grab an iced latte before sitting in the spacious chairs and cozying up to our local orange tabby, Rascal. Highly recommend reading "Crime and Punishment" to start, as recommended by PP himself. Pedge is excited for the ongoing literary discord...and possible smooching at Pedge's Bookshop!

Series Masterlist

*featuring art from Franz Marc