Latest Posts by pedges-world - Page 3

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

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Sigh. I'm conflicted. I love my blog title, but over the last year I've run into a little resistance. Two anons have questioned the title and last year there was tremendous discord associated with this particular nickname. I think at least one amazing writer has blocked me because of it, and I don't want to be associated with anything even peripherally gross...But I'm also working on finding my own literary voice...as I write about somebody else...ummmmm....

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….

Pedge's Bookshop Before...

Grab a Latte! You deserve a sweet treat! Why don't you check out "The Book of Love" from @jolalibrary before heading into The Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", references to prostitution/murder/suicide/pregnancy/alcohol, bar-room proposition, spiritual ponderings...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Ellie’s laughter devolved into an impish snort as you scoffed from the sidelines. “What do you call an alligator with a vest?” You rolled your eyes placatingly, though secretly wondering what the answer was. “Huh, Teach? Give up?” You playfully tossed a copy of “Another Country” into her lap for the Literature Section. “An inVESTigator! Get it? VESTigator?” she doubled over in obnoxious laughter as you smirked by the adjacent bookshelf.

“Soon I’m going to suggest you add more of these puns to your project and papers” you teased, determined to bring order to the History and Geography section, such as it was. “How’s it coming with ‘Crime and Punishment’?” you mused, shaking your head slightly at the sorry condition of George Orwell’s copy of “1984” as it crossed your vision. Ellie poked her head out from the nearby aisle, suddenly intense. 

“I love it” she bantered. “I’m way ahead of Joel, he got stuck at the funeral dinner. Snake Eyes finally did himself in, and Rascal is thinking about confessing to Sophia” Ellie’s eyes sparkled victoriously. Your face registered a somewhat feigned look of shock and awe, as you inhaled quickly.

“Joel is falling behind on his homework assignments! I’ll have to dock points for that mis-step” you jested, heading over to the wood burning stove for your second cup of coffee.

“I guess we can cut him some slack after all these patrols” Ellie mumbled, obviously concerned, as the afternoon hours laboriously passed. You nodded your head solemnly. It had been your recommendation to put Levi and his posse to the test via controlled observation and limited patrol participation. You wanted to give Maria some viable options, you just hadn’t realized it was going to absorb so much of Joel’s time away. The thought of Levi somehow manipulating Joel, or negatively influencing his viewpoint was more of a worry than you had realized.

“I miss him too” you muttered quietly, as the front bell rang amicably. Rascal the Cat answered with a happy meow, as Maria tentatively entered The Bookshop.

“Anybody home?” she questioned, as Ellie’s face optimistically brightened.

“Hey Maria! When are you going to pop?” Ellie toyed, skipping towards her playfully, joined by Rascal underfoot.

“I AM starting to feel like a balloon” Maria shook her head exhaustedly. “I’m loathe to admit it, but the new visitors have taken on a lot of the commune patrol responsibilities, which is helpful. I just wish I knew more about them…” she paused distractedly. “I take it Joel isn’t back yet?”.

“Still on the latest patrol” you mourned, looking around The Bookshop dejectedly. You longed for the days of relative peace, before the visitors had joined your otherwise safe environment. “Oh! I set aside some reading material, if you wanted it!” you chimed in, grabbing a small stack of maternity related material. Some of it was obsolete at best, but you hoped it might provide a sense of comfort.

“Ah! Thanks Teach, we like homework too!” Maria smiled, patting her own tummy affectionately. “Reminds me of my law-school days…” she took the stack of books, setting them maternally on her hip. “Can you let Joel know I dropped by?”.

Ellie winced sensitively. “I’ll tell him, but you know how Joel is”. Maria rolled her eyes sympathetically.

“He thinks I don’t like him” Maria stated straightforwardly, looking around the cozy interior of The Bookshop appraisingly.

“You said it, not me” Ellie retorted, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’d love to blame my hormones, but he’s not entirely wrong” Maria offered, huffing with exasperation. “He’s family, after all. I know he shares a deep bond with his brother. It’s just a time in Tommy’s life I was never connected to. I guess I’m just a cynic…” she grumbled.

“Sounds like a Mama Bear to me” you smiled encouragingly. “A leader”.

Maria chuckled skeptically. “Well, soon I won’t be able to do as much. I’ve got to acknowledge that” she begrudgingly admitted. “Tommy just mentioned Joel’s observations from the redemptive strike at Elk Creek, that caught my attention…”.

“Like what?” Ellie demanded, already suspicious. You swallowed dryly, curious as to his perceptions, but simultaneously anxious. What had happened once Levi joined the expedition?

“Ellie, this isn’t a council meeting, and you’re still a kid” Maria chided, shifting the books to her other hip deftly.

“Right, cause I don’t already live with the guy who never says anything?” Ellie countered, already gently willing to spar, even with a pregnant, adult woman.  Maria pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“He just said…” Maria stopped abruptly, cautiously considering once again. “Joel said they barely made it out alive. If Levi and his posse hadn’t shown up, he wasn’t sure if the patrol party would have survived. They were really hunkered down, and the renegades had the upper hand…until Levi…Well, something about help showing up at exactly the right time. But even Joel said there was something about Levi that seemed…unhinged.”

The Bookshop fell silent as you considered Joel’s observations. That sounded accurate, based on your previous interactions, over 20 years ago. You hadn’t immediately experienced anything overt under Levi’s employ, but there was always something about him that was morally deficit. A kind of existential boredom that seemed to permeate everything he did, or didn’t do. You wondered at his beliefs, or his passions, when he didn’t seem to have any. Even his rage and passion seemed to have a dull, almost inhuman quality to it and there always seemed to be a certain bankruptcy of spirit, in all of his choices. In your time together, he often seemed to falsely declare a liberalism of mind, or a freedom of philosophy, but when all things are permissible, there was a certain moral abdication that must be present. If nothing is really evil, than how can you actually tell what is good?

“I don’t trust that guy” Ellie growled, distractedly looking out the window, as though hoping Joel were already back from the afternoon patrol. You set your jaw resolutely, attempting to withhold judgement. The Miller Family had offered you a tremendous amount of compassion and mercy. You couldn’t, in all honesty, ignore their charity, you just weren’t sure if Levi was a worthy recipient.

“I wonder if Joel and Levi aren’t more alike than dissimilar…” Maria almost whispered to herself before Ellie responded with incredulity.

“You’re shitting me!”. You and Maria both cocked your eyebrows sky high, anticipating the emotional barrage. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…language, language, language. You cannot compare that douchebag to your own brother-in-law!” Ellie placed her hands on her hips in a decidedly Joel-like posture as Rascal smugly stared back. “You know Joel is the reason I’m even alive, you should be thanking him for everything he does!” she took an accusatory step towards Maria who placed a hand up placatingly.

“You’re right, you’re right…” Maria surrendered, lowering her gaze to the ground. “Just something I can’t figure. Call it hormones, call it intuition. I don’t doubt Joel’s intentionality for one second, but that’s not something I can say about Levi”.

Ellie nodded curtly, temporarily sated. There was no world where you would consider Joel in the same breath as a man like Levi…and yet….Maria was right. There was something about Joel that continued to be mysterious and enigmatic. Dark and seductive. It was easy to see, having delved into the deeper spaces of your own past, and equally pointless to ignore it. Perhaps at some point, it would finally be time to reveal those true secrets that remained in the haunting shadows.

You and Ellie worked for several more hours before she headed home to complete the day’s tasks. Joel should be arriving in the evening hours and you had tentatively opted to meet at the Tipsy Bison to celebrate his return. You were excited to update him on The Bookshop’s progress, but inwardly perseverating on the earlier conversation. Would Joel’s mysteries ever reveal themselves? Every human was capable of tremendous atrocity, and the only thing separating a saint from a sinner, seemed to be an intentionality of spirit. Or, as Maria had previously said, so many of us are one and the same. Your mind was already swirling with questions by the time you entered the potent bar atmosphere.

You didn’t often frequent the Tipsy Bison, instead preferring a quiet night at home, reading a book, or recently, avoiding the likes of Levi and his gang. But if you were going to take on a more administrative role in the commune, you needed to objectively consider Levi’s petition for commune inclusion. Joel had already brought more confidence and acceptance into your life, it was time to step into that security and stop deflecting. Time to stop being so afraid. If Levi’s presence allowed Maria a respite, and added protection to Joel’s already dangerous patrols, you wanted to believe you could overcome your own sense of insecurity.

You tentatively stepped up to the counter and ordered a whiskey, neat, anticipating Joel’s arrival sooner rather than later. One of the commune residents was quietly playing a guitar in the corner, and individuals were grouped in conversation and activity around the cozy room. You had just begun to settle in, when the noisy group from the patrol abruptly barged inside.

Your breath immediately hitched in your throat, looking for any sign of Joel, but unintentionally catching the lascivious grins of Levi’s gang. You weren’t sure what Levi had told them exactly, but it can’t have been good. Where was Joel? Maybe being here alone wasn’t such a good idea. As if on cue, one of the visitors sallied up to the bar, decidedly close to you, as you watched his hands twitch menacingly at his sides.

“Well hey there pretty lady, Levi tells me y’all are old friends…” he drawled, revealing a yellowing set of teeth. His rancid breath fanned across your face as you attempted to hide your immediate repulsion. 

“I wouldn’t call us friends, per se” your steely glare didn’t give the unwelcome visitor any cause for misunderstanding, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing your upper thigh possessively.

“Maybe MORE than friends?” he spat, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thigh, as raucous laughter echo’d around you. It had been a long time since you found yourself in a situation like this, but you felt your entire body tighten like a wound coil, poised to pounce.

“Best to leave her alone…” a familiar voice interrupted, as the hair on the back of your neck bristled uncomfortably. Rotating slowly in acknowledgement, a grimy hand gripped the visitor’s shoulder threateningly. You were unsurprised, but dismayed to see the foreboding profile of Levi enter your periphery, as the visitor stalled in their proposition.

“Just some harmless fun, s’all” he attempted to back pedal, before Levi shoved him to the ground stolidly. 

“Get your drink and move along” Levi threatened before watching him shakily stand to his feet and slink away into the corner. Levi’s lip curled upward, smug in the opportunity to act as your unbidden savior in this moment.

“Thanks” you muttered, your lips a thin line of vehemence, attempting to bite back a sarcastic diatribe. Damned if Levi didn’t always show up when you least wanted to take advantage of any opportunity under false pretenses. 

“My pleasure” Levi whispered into your ear, a tingling band of revulsion abrasively shooting down your spine. “Always like to act the hero…” he muttered, breathing in your fragrance deeply, before the bar doors opened once again to reveal Joel’s broad frame.

His hair was wetly slicked back, having apparently stopped at the house for a quick shower before joining you. You shivered slightly under the spell of his powerful and well-timed appearance, as Levi slowly withdrew to the shadowed corners with his cohorts. That was close.

Joel strode purposefully towards you, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. “You okay?” he pointedly asked, waving the bartender away. You nodded succinctly, not entirely sure if the answer was yes, warily watching Levi from where he lecherously looked on.

“Let’s get out of here…” you grumbled, downing the whiskey in one shot and shrugging Joel’s concerned touch from your back. The ensuing laughter echo’d behind you as you burst through the bar doors and began trudging through the dirtied snow.

“Will ya wait up a second?” Joel called after you, his knees already aching from the long, daily patrols. You were gripping your sides tightly, attempting to ignore Joel’s penetrative gaze, burrowing forward into the wintry wind. “What’d he say? Did he hurt ya?” Joel stopped you, looking into your face for any indication.

“He was my go-between Joel!” you shouted, shrugging with exasperation. “I thought I’d never have to see him again, and here comes every vestige of my past, threatening my very real future!” your voice cracked with defeat. Joel ran his hands warmly up and down your arms, offering solace and a listening ear. For some reason, it only added fuel to your irrational ire. “The only thing you can count on Levi for is ruining a good thing!” you tried to explain, twisting out of Joel’s strong grasp, nearly slipping in the snow. Joel widened his stance to brace yours, grasping at your waist in solidarity. “What has he told you? Are you all trading tales about the slut? Don’t tell me he hasn’t tried!” you shouted into Joel’s face over the din of the seasonal bluster and nearby bar sounds.

“I don’t give a fuck what Levi says or thinks!” Joel returned, your eyes widening softly at his immediate transparency. “Only thing I care about is you, Teach!” he held you solidly in his grasp, anchoring you to the iron core of his protective nature. You sniffled timidly, taking in his meaning. “Now can we go home? It’s freezing out here and my back is killing me!” his eyes crinkled good-naturedly at the corners, as you smiled tenderly. You nodded emphatically, as Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tucking you in to the steel-like nook of his side. Stumbling together, you headed back to the Miller household, casting an occasional glance behind you at the receding town bar. You almost expected Levi to haunt every opportunity from here on out. How would you be able to find a moment’s peace with the ever-present and nebulous foreboding of Levi’s enigmatic personhood? Finally reaching Joel’s house, you both paused in the living room to see Ellie’s bedroom light casting shadows down the stairwell.

“Already talked to the kid” Joel gestured, shaking flakes of snow out of his hair and off his shoulders. “Said that Maria dropped by today with some questions…”.

Your mouth parted with surprise. Here you were, worried about Levi’s influence and you hadn’t even mentioned Maria’s. “She’s just as naturally suspicious of Levi as I am. As we ALL should be” you warned, keeping your voice secretive. “You didn’t tell me he saved your life” your voice gained a newfound warmth as your eyes brimmed with tears. Levi might be a lot of things, but if he really had saved Joel’s life, that was a debt you wouldn’t be able to easily repay.

“Hate to admit it, but it’s true” Joel confessed bitterly. “If he and his posse hadn’t shown up when they did, we wouldn’t be talkin’ right now. Don’t mean I trust the guy. But I’m not above using him to protect what I love” he finished confidently, taking you by the hand. You swallowed the lump of emotion that had unexpectedly risen in your throat, leading him to the couch and sitting together quietly. You gazed pensively at the fire, now dwindling by the hearth, Joel’s copy of “Crime and Punishment” sitting on the coffee table before you.

“You know, I was thinking about that quote from Svidrigaylov this afternoon when Ellie and I were tidying up” you began, laying your head lightly on Joel’s shoulder. He hummed with approval, kicking off his boots and resting his feet atop the hand made coffee table.

“Good 'ole Snake Eyes. Ellie says I won’t have to listen to him for much longer…” he mused, yawning tiredly.

“She’s right” you agreed. “Before he dies, he talks about his beliefs. His ideas about eternity…”.

“Wouldn’t think a guy like Snake-Eyes would have any beliefs to speak of” Joel’s voice rumbled lowly in his chest, buzzing against your skin.

“He doesn’t. He manages to fool even himself, up until the end. He wonders at man’s desire for a vast forever, an eternity that is redemptive and never ending” you pondered, leaning forward for a moment and thumbing through the pages of the book.

“Here…he says, ‘We always imagine eternity as something beyond our conception, something vast, vast. But why must it be vast?” Joel shifted with discomfort, unsure how to answer Dostoyevsky's literary question. “But what if eternity is one little room, black and grimy with spiders in every corner?” your voice trailed off suddenly unsure, watching the embers of the fire die down into flickering remnants of their earlier glory. “What if he’s right?” you finally asked, turning your head upwards to meet Joel’s gaze.

“Who? Snake-Eyes?” Joel scoffed, his jaw ticking curiously from side to side. “Hell, I don’t know, Teach. I’m no philosopher” he paused to listen to the crackling fire as it breathed its last. “A man would do…almost anything if he believed it was right. But a man with NO beliefs? What kind of eternity is that?” Joel whispered, almost as though to himself.

You didn’t know the answer to that question. There were so many unknowns in a world of constantly shifting ideals and dangers. You snuggled closer into Joel’s side as your eyelids drooped heavily with exhaustion. No more questions for tonight. Just the fire. And Joel. And the hope that tomorrow would have more light than the current darkness of night. A belief that somehow, Love might prevail, whether you understood the future, or not.

Pedge's Bookshop The Calm

Grab a Latte! in the foyer with this sweet fic "Just a Cover" by @popcornforone before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, yay lite smut!, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", references to alcohol/prostitution/murder/rape/death...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Having Levi and his posse sulk around the commune for the last several weeks was a tumultuous backdrop to the real foreground of your attention; Joel. While the visitors were slated to leave by the end of the month, that did nothing to quell your fears of town gossip or possible altercation. The main protection and acceptance you were currently enjoying was from Joel, and you never wanted it to end.

After that fateful dinner you had expected the participants to shun you or at least offer silent judgement from a watchful distance. But, if anything, it had only seemed to intensify your unique connection to the extended Miller Family. Somehow your own self-perceived fall from grace had engendered more of their affection and resolution. Maria was intent on discussing more of your leadership responsibilities, Tommy seemed exceptionally pleased that Joel and you were spending more time together. Even Ellie was paying rapt attention in class, and seemed to have an ever greater sense of care and support during your interactions. And Joel. Joel had surprised you most of all.

His once stolid and nearly gruff appearance had softened in almost every way; at least when he was around you. You were almost spending more time at the Bookshop than at school, not just to avoid the wandering eyes of Levi and his group, but to vanish in the safety of literature, coffee and your newfound burgeoning relationship with Joel. It was far too early to label anything at this point. You inwardly smirked at the incredulity of it all. A boyfriend, in the midst of the apocalypse? But yours was more than a passing friendship. There was an innate understanding, an “other-ness” that you somehow shared, and within that, had found a sense of belonging. You just didn’t know how far that belonging actually extended.

With Ellie’s help you had nearly finished the Arts and Recreation section, but were newly entrenched in the Literature categorization. Not that you were complaining. Almost everyday, if Joel wasn’t on a patrol, or the school day didn’t encapsulate your existence, you could be found at The Bookshop. Not that Joel ever let anyone shop there. Besides you, Rascal the Cat was his most loyal customer. And while the Bookshop was still in assembly, there was another somewhat clandestine reason; Joel couldn’t keep his hands off you. Only occasionally caught in a lip-lock by Tommy or Ellie, even this indulgence was becoming steadily more difficult, as you found unique ways to extend your ongoing “literary discussion”.

You had already unpacked the varied interpretations of the title, “Crime and Punishment”, indicating that the Russian word for crime was much more indicative of “transgression”. This seemed vaguely appropriate as you lost your train of thought with Joel’s stubbled beard and soft lips winding their way across your clavicle, your voice hitching raspily in your own throat. You tried to explain the import of interpretations like “crossing a line” or “stepping across a barrier”, but that was hard to do when Joel had your eyes rolling back in your head languidly as he cupped your breasts softly in his massive hands. So much for academic objectivity.

One night after Ellie had gone upstairs, you and Joel sat, kissing quietly in front of the living room fireplace, two untouched glasses of whiskey sitting on the handmade coffee table beside you. Joel’s hands had found themselves weighted at your waist, his calloused fingers teasing the hemline of your shirt, tickling the bare skin just beneath. You were straddled across his lap, your breasts nearly in his face as you cupped his jawline tenderly between two hands, licking into his mouth. Pausing to catch your breath, you gently relaxed atop him, feeling his hardened length beneath. You sat lower, wiping his lower lip tenderly with your thumb. 

“I think you might be one of my best students…” you drawled, winking lazily at him, as he gazed darkly back.

“What’dya think Teach, am I gonna get a good grade in class?” his voice edged lowly, making sure to keep quiet, lest Ellie get an earful of your evening activities from upstairs.

“Well, you’ve been doing so much, HANDS-ON…” at this you ground your hips in a circle over Joel’s tented pants, eliciting a groaning growl from him as you clapped a cautious hand over his mouth… “…extra-credit this semester. I would say your grade is rising as we speak…” you taunted, reveling in the pained delight that registered across Joel’s brow. He looked up at your showcased cleavage, licking his lips slowly with anticipation.

“And what about the oral examinations?” he mumbled into your neck, dragging his lips across the delicate skin of your décolletage. “When do those begin?” he teased, sucking lightly, just below your ear, drawing forth small giggles from your trembling mouth. You were just about to answer when Ellie’s door opened, her head buried behind Joel’s copy of “Crime and Punishment”.

“Snake-Eyes DIES?!” she exclaimed somewhere between disbelief and delight, slowly descending the stairs as you repositioned yourselves more appropriately, at arms length. You had just finished smoothing your shirt and adopting an innocent expression when she placed herself in front of you, cocking an eyebrow quizzically.

“I know you’re making out. It’s fine” she bluntly offered, Joel rolling his eyes with exasperation. 

“Did ya need somethin’?” he huffed, crossing his arms with frustration, before joining her line of questioning. “Snake Eyes DIES?!” he scoffed, looking over at you for confirmation. You shrugged enigmatically, a small smile already plastered across your contented face.

“He fucking offs himself!” Ellie smiled, not even attempting to hide her disdain. “I know, I know…LANGUAGE…” she interrupted before Joel even had a chance. But after attacking Dunya and arguing with Rascal. And probably killing the old lady, and maybe harassing the girl. I did NOT see that coming…” she shook her head confusedly.

“Well good-riddance!” Joel shouted, “…sounds like he had it comin’! Only…don’t get too far ahead of me, I only just finished readin’ the dinner scene…” he pouted, kicking Ellie’s boot with his own as she smiled mischievously. 

“Doesn’t seem like you have a lot of time for readin’ lately!” she toyed, dangling the book in front of Joel’s face before he grabbed it defensively, with a knowing grin. 

“Alright, alright…apologize to Teach before she heads home. Sounds like I need to do some research to catch up with y’all” he confessed.

“What am I apologizin’ for exactly?” Ellie sarcastically argued, reaching for the book which Joel swiftly held out of her reach. 

“Seems to me you still owe that report about weather cycles affecting crop rotation and seasonal climate shifts…” you offered, grabbing a pillow in anticipatory defense.

“Snitch” Ellie grinned, grabbing another pillow and hitting your own, before disappearing back upstairs and calling behind her, “BE SURE TO USE A CONDOM!”

“ELLIE!” Joel bellowed, standing to his feet with irritation as you covered your mouth to stifle the latest bout of giggling. Joel stood poised with his hands on his hips, mid-scowl, before noticing your squeaks of embarrassment, his frustration beginning to fade into the distance as he watched you unravel before him. An impish smirk appeared on his face, as he tossed the book to the side and draped his broad form above you.

“Something funny, Teach?” he asked, peppering your sternum with chaste and not so chaste kisses, as your laughter died down to soft hums of approval.

“She sees a lot” you observed, tucking your hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he gently lowered himself to your chest, snuggling in for a respite. 

“This okay? M’not squashin’ ya?” he mumbled into your chest, as his body incrementally relaxed atop you. Guiding your fingers through his peppered locks of hair you parted your legs slightly to capture more of his weight. 

“I’m a bit more durable than all that” you managed, relishing his supine figure before you. After a few minutes the room settled into a contented quiet, so much so that you wondered if Joel had fallen asleep before his low voice tentatively drawled, “You know, you can tell me anything. Anything in the world…” he gulped, unwilling to break the magnetic spell the two of you had crafted, before turning his head upward to catch your gaze. “Just want you to feel safe. Safe as…” he paused, considering his next words cautiously… “…safe as I feel with you” he finished, resting his head back on your chest sweetly. Your heart swelled within you. You didn’t feel a sense of shame, exactly. But wondering how Joel might react to the details of your past was carving a hole in your potential intimacy, and you welcomed the open door of conversation.

“I was young…” you started, as Joel’s head whipped up attentively, shifting his weight to the side of your body on the couch so he could get a better look at you. “I had made it to grad school, but my parents weren’t in the picture so much, and money was starting to get tight”. Joel fixedly held your stare, willing you to feel his support and encouragement if you needed it. “One of my friends had experimented with webcams…Remember those?” you chuckled, as Joel nodded in affirmation, nudging you forward. “Seemed harmless enough at the time. I made a little money with simple tasks at first, but soon I got connected to Levi…”. Joel seemed to stop breathing at the mention of his name, his jaw ticking slightly with restraint. “Well…you’ve met him. He always seem to show up at the ‘right’ moment. Saving the day, but somehow taking advantage simultaneously”. Joel breathed deeply, reaching a hand up to stroke your back in wide circles. “He assured me everything would stay virtual, until…well it didn’t. I was definitely complicit, but before I knew it, I was essentially a call-girl, and everything was very much in-person. Levi decided to really play up the ‘teacher’ aspect of my persona, and it became my calling card. It felt ridiculous to be pursuing my Masters in Education, all the while playing up those same qualities in…more intimate situations” your face reddened slightly at the confession. “It wasn’t really what I wanted. But it paid the bills. And it was my choice. A choice Levi definitely took advantage of, but my choice nonetheless. Sometimes it actually felt empowering. Until…it didn’t…” you trailed off, remembering some of the darker details of those years.

“Should I not call you by that nickname? I didn’t know…” Joel shifted upwards on his forearms, before you halted him mid-apology. 

“I love it. It was always my dream. I love being a teacher, and I don’t regret the choices I made to bring those dreams to fruition. Maybe it didn’t happen the way I dreamt, but it’s still mine” you shook your head with surprise as you articulated your clandestine thoughts for the first time. “Still think you’re one of my best students, Miller” you whispered toyingly, noticing Joel’s cheeks gain a pinkish tint as his chest rumbled in affirmation.

“Looking forward to those oral exams, whenever you feel ready” Joel jested, drawing you in for an extended, passionate kiss. You sighed quietly into his mouth, before he pensively pulled back. “Don’t want you to feel like you have to keep secrets with me” he mused, bringing his forehead tenderly to yours. 

You breathed one another in for several minutes before you hesitantly whispered, “Feel the same way Joel. You know you can tell me anything”. Joel sighed a deep breath of contemplation, rallying himself for the next step.

“Ellie mentioned…my Sarah?” he mumbled, gazing downward so much so that you only saw the beauty of his lashes flitting quickly. 

“YOU mentioned Sarah…” Joel’s quick intake of air at her name, flashed painfully across his face and yours, as his eyesight rose haltingly to catch your own. 

“When…?” he croaked, before closing his eyes in remembrance. “That night…I couldn’t get her outta my head” he nodded, thinking back on the drunken conversation several weeks ago. “The patrol was a nightmare. And…worried about Ellie and you…” he trailed off, trying to piece together the sketchy details, but just reflecting on Sarah’s smile. “You’d’ve liked her” his voice cracked sweetly as you abruptly grasped him around the torso, smashing your face into his chest.

“You don’t have to say anything” the tears welled up within you, desperate to somehow remove the searing pain of loss.

“Not much to tell now” he nearly whimpered. “I had her…and then…I didn’t. Coulda done more. S’my fault…” his throat closed with emotion as you squeezed him tighter still.

“I see the way you love Ellie” you managed to get out thickly. “Can’t convince me otherwise. I know a good dad when I see one…” you encouraged, reaching up to wipe away your tears cascading into Joel’s telltale plaid shirt.

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for that girl” his voice took on a serrated edge, as you pulled back to gaze at him appraisingly. “She mention anything about…how we came to Jacksonville?” he faltered, unsure of his next steps.

“She told me about The Preacher” you swallowed dryly, watching a flicker of rage pass over Joel’s face quickly as he nodded curtly. 

“There’s things…” he tried to continue but was steadily growing more tense “…things you don’t know about Ellie. Or me…” he bit down hard, his mouth a thin line of resolution, watching your eyes narrow judiciously before placing a single finger over his lips wisely.

“What have you done to yourself?” you murmured rhetorically as Joel’s eyes painfully closed, a single tear disappearing into the scruff of his beard. And there you stayed, held in one another’s arms for the evening, until finding a restless sleep. It was early dawn when you disentangled yourselves from one another’s embrace, shakily starting the next day, and whatever the unknown future might hold.

The next day you were scheduled to meet with Tommy and Maria to discuss future administrative plans for the commune. Maria’s pregnancy was really starting to show, and you didn’t dare ask when her potential due date was. You could feel the palpable excitement and tension in the air as you joined them in the town meeting hall.

“Joel doesn’t want to interfere with commune business” Tommy began, shuffling some papers hurriedly before him. 

“Give him a gun and a cause…” Maria shook her head disapprovingly, avoiding Tommy’s reproachful gaze.

“Come on darlin’…” Tommy chastised, sounding once again like his older brother, in voice as much as demeanor. “Told ya we can trust him” Tommy began before Maria halted him silently.

“I know when townsfolk are holding secrets” Maria reprimanded, looking over at you apologetically. “No offense, Teach, just a gift I have. Investigating. Used to be a lawyer in the time before. Comes naturally to me. I know a sinner from a saint, and they’re often one and the same” she wisely observed, before reflecting a bit further. “Except that Levi, for one…” she inhaled skeptically, quickly glancing over at you for confirmation.

“Levi isn’t someone you want around any longer than is absolutely necessary” you bluntly stated, pleased with your growing sense of self-confidence. Maybe Joel was starting to rub off on you.

“I hate to be so beholden to him after their last minute redemptive strike…” she pensively acquiesced.

“Even Joel said he might not have made it back without their assistance…” Tommy chimed in begrudgingly. Joel hadn’t mentioned that. Granted, this was before Levi’s full intentions were known, but were you really willing to sacrifice Joel’s well being for your own discomfort? Maybe there was some kind of olive branch you could extend, making the future somewhat tolerable. You had changed. Maybe other people could too.

“Maybe we could give them some kind of test” you ventured, pursing your lips thoughtfully.

“Alright, Teach!” Tommy cheered, clocking Maria’s chagrin. “Pop quiz time!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, getting a small indication of the Miller playfulness that often lurked mischievously beneath.

“Maybe we send them out on our next dangerous patrol, and keep them on a steady leash” Maria agreed, taking notes in her own administrative notebook. “Good idea…”. Tommy gave a quick clandestine wink that brought a victorious smile to your face, perhaps motivating your next point.

“Regarding…our dinner conversation” you began, before Maria stopped you.

“Water under the bridge…” she tutted, not lifting her eyes from the notebook. You and Tommy shared a pregnant pause, as he returned your gaze definitively.

“We all have a past. Don’t mean we can’t have a future” Tommy succinctly encouraged, eliciting a curt nod from Maria.

“Some secrets should probably stay hidden” you muttered under your breath, reflecting on Joel’s past admonition, noticing Tommy shift uncomfortable in his chair. Maria was breathing steadily across from you, still not looking up.

“You talk to Joel?” she quirked her head to the side, looking at Tommy knowingly before he averted eye contact.

“He said enough” you intimated, sensing the growing tension, though somewhat unaware of its origin. “Told me about Sarah” you finished, attempting to gauge the telepathic conversation happening between the married couple.

“He mention anything else?” Maria probed, Tommy gripping the edges of the table in a stylistically Miller fashion.

“Darlin’…” he warned, shaking his head slightly, in earnest.

Maria clamped her mouth shut skeptically as her brow furrowed in conflict. “I’m not sure how much my….brother in-law might have revealed” she began, weighing her words carefully. “Truth will out” she finally decided, sitting back in her chair resolutely. Tommy sighed a heavy breath, closing his eyes fixedly. 

Truth will out. In Jacksonville you had found a new home and a new start. But perhaps there were some things that should ultimately remain in the past. You thought on Joel’s near confession, and the sheer depth of knowledge you lacked about Ellie, Sarah and so much more. Would it be possible for Levi and his group to somehow fit into the commune without disrupting the precarious new start you had finally crafted for yourself? Or was the future forever fated to be doomed by elements of the past? You wanted to believe in new beginnings. You wanted to believe in love. And more than anything you wanted to know Joel Miller for who he truly was. But as you reflected on your own secrets and the apocalyptic territory you were barely surviving, perhaps there was more still to the enigmatic narrative of Joel and Ellie.

But in this moment, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to find out.

Pedge's Bookshop The Dinner

Grab a Latte! this seems very appropros for the Coffee Lovers! Check out Extra Cream and Sugar by @itwasntimethatdidit40 before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, reference to alcohol, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", ex-type return, reference to prostitution, physical altercation, and finally KISSING!!!!!

Series Masterlist

Words: 3.5k

Joel’s gaze was burning with the heat of a super nova as you made the short trek to the medical infirmary for a quick check before welcoming the new visitors to The Jackson Commune. If you had allowed him to speak, you might have had an inkling of his own emotional state, but you were purposefully driven to banish the feelings and the tears that were cascading unbidden through your personhood. 

What the hell was Levi doing here? 

During the tumult of the infected, you were lucky enough to be in the Wyoming Territory, having miraculously found your way to the burgeoning commune, and counting your lucky stars that you had survived. You just didn’t count on Levi being able to say the some thing. No way in hell was Levi going to let go of a good thing once he had it. You had been lucky to escape his clutches the first time. But how could you reveal his questionable background without risking the same of your own?

You found yourselves constantly surrounded by one medical practitioner or another, before being joined by Ellie, who was overjoyed at Joel’s return. Shrinking under the heated glance of Joel’s passionate intensity you had mumbled something about relief at his appearance before practically running out of the infirmary and returning to your own home. You immediately locked the door and shuttered the windows before escaping to your bedroom and hiding under the covers.

This was your worst nightmare come to life. A past you had tried so desperately to escape, and nearly had, before it practically came knocking at the very doorstep of your own community.  Joel had his suspicions, but had he told Ellie? Could he possible know the details of your own “fall from grace”. And why had he brought Tommy and Maria into the conversation? There seemed to be no escape, short of heading out the commune doors and going it alone. You finally let the tears fall, unhindered, lulled into a fitful sleep, wondering how you were going to survive this new, hellish ordeal.

The new visitors of the commune were the focal point of town gossip for the next week. If you didn’t have educational responsibilities you would have isolated yourself completely, hopeful that the incident would just pass over. But your students were alight with the discussion and questions, eavesdropping from every whispered conversation, and anxious for news from the outer territories. The residents of the Jackson Commune were so far removed from any other civilizations, you couldn’t remember the last time a party of this size had “graced” your doorstep. Apparently the patrol had found themselves entirely cornered, and it was thanks to this traveling posse they had escaped intact. But it was a glooming peace that hovered over the townsfolk as they tentatively invited the strangers into their all but isolated commune. There was much to be grateful for, but much to protect and Joel couldn’t have been unaware.

That is to say, you assumed Joel was aware, but couldn’t be sure. Between purposefully avoiding the possibility of seeing Levi, inundated with school responsibilities and dodging another conversation with Maria or Tommy, you had turned into a hermit, surviving on work and anxiety. Ellie had not been present in class, which was not an immediate cause for concern, and in fact aided your temporary escapism from her keen and insightful stare. Ellie would know something was wrong. Perhaps you could avoid the entire Miller Household until this newest threat evaporated or exploded.

But it wasn’t Ellie’s interrogative voice that greeted you at the end of this particular work day. If anything, that warm, sultry voice seemed nearly telepathic as your eyes raised to see the broad frame of Joel Miller pause at your doorway, poised to knock. “Howdy, teach” he lightly intoned, gazing behind him at the squabbling children and rubbing the back of his neck humbly. How was it possible to feel so many contradictory emotions at the same time? Your face flushed with embarrassment, immediately chagrined by your comparative silence, as he haltingly entered the room. “Got a sec?”.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any new homework for you today” you tried to deflect the intensity of his stare, but were arriving unsuccessfully. Something about the Miller Family in all its incarnations, seemed to strip you bare of facade, leaving you vulnerable to their charms.

“S’okay, I’ve got some catching up to do” he smirked, considering the small school desks available before him, and finally deciding on a towering stance in front of your own. “Missed you at The Bookshop though” his voice was surprisingly quiet, but well enunciated. Almost as though it were a secret being dragged from his lips, only for your hearing. You felt your heart stutter within you nervously, noticing his healing abrasion at the edge of his forehead. 

“You look good” you stammered. “I mean, your cuts, they look good. Healing okay?” you bumbled, grasping at any assembly of fortitude and finding none. Joel Miller always left you completely tongue tied.

“Just glad to make it back…”  (to you) he nodded, looking around the school room awkwardly. “Nice place ya got here”.

“Oh this old thing!” you feigned humility, finally venturing a small smile. “It’s no Bookshop, that’s for sure. I’ve been meaning to drop by and see…uh, see that copy of "Wuthering Heights” you promised me!” you rallied, straightening your burgundy sweater that Joel had been so fond of. Joel licked his lips placatingly.

“Got me doin’ your dirty work now” he teased, picking at the desk edge the same way that Ellie did. They really were two peas in a pod. Joel was an amazing father figure. Your heart gripped violently in your chest, wondering at his loss of Sarah, and a previous life you knew nothing about. Could one really escape their past? Or were we forever doomed to be haunted by our deepest cuts and wounds?

“Listen, about the other night” he began, his eyes darkening guiltily.

“Don’t worry about it!” you stopped him, standing abruptly and gathering your things. You weren’t sure what he wanted to say, all you knew was that you couldn’t handle another disappointment. Having Levi in town was bad enough, to say nothing of living up the the commune’s new leadership expectations. If Joel were about to question your motives now, you weren’t sure you could take it. Reaching a long arm in front of your waist, Joel easily halted your escape with the intimidating width of his shoulders, punctuated by a particularly gentle touch that took your breath away.

“Sorry you had to see me like that” he whispered, looking down into your face with real regret and supplication. “Some things I can’t say…in the harsh light of day” he sighed, swallowing dryly as his eyes drifted down to your lips seductively. “Still like that sweater though” he added, smiling dolefully, the air around you becoming hazy and warm, with a hypnotic glow.

You tilted your head down shyly, biting your lower lip, “Just glad you’re okay, Joel. Don’t know what I’d do without you”. You heard a quiet intake of air as he registered your statement internally. The two of you stood in charged energy for what felt like an eternity before Joel continued, 

“So, I’m ‘sposed to invite you for dinner tonight!” he brightened, dipping his head a bit lower to catch your eyesight and slightly terrified expression. 

“Dinner?” you gulped. Heaven forbid you had another confrontation like the one before. Maybe it would just be a quiet night of discussion?

“This time you’ve got the whole Miller Family. Maria wanted to discuss some of the new commune responsibilities. You don’t mind do ya?” Joel questioned emphatically, allowing his hands to drift to his hips decidedly and listening for your decision. Good Lord. The situation was getting worse, but was steadily inescapable. It seemed as though your hands were tied.

“I’d love to” you croaked, shifting awkwardly with discomfort. No way out now. At least this would keep you distracted until Levi and his posse left. “No bramble berry wine this time” you apologized, meeting Joel’s eyes with a twinkle. He nodded in affirmation with a bright smile before heading towards the door.

“Oh” he paused at the doorway, his face immediately darkened with something almost protective or primal. “Levi too…” he spat, visibly struggling with his own distaste. “He’s the leader of our visiting strangers, and they want to petition commune residency”. Your stomach dropped about a foot with the unhappy revelation. Not only was Levi going to be present at the dinner, but there was a chance he was returning to your happy commune existence in a permanent way. You couldn’t find the words as Joel’s jaw ticked angrily. “Something about that guy” Joel trailed off, watching you closely as you grasped helplessly for words. “He a friend of yours?” 

“No!” you finally managed to exclaim before gathering your books and papers haphazardly and stuffing them into your bag. “No friend of mine” you muttered, grabbing your winter jacket and breezing past Joel quickly before he could ask anything else. “See you tonight!” you called behind you, already terrified at the unsavory proposition.

“Miller House! Seven sharp, teach!” Joel’s concerned voice rang after you, as you wrapped yourself tightly against the bracing wind. It seemed that things could not get worse.

Things had gotten steadily worse as you approached the Miller Household. Not only were your hands tremulously shaking beside you, your heart was palpitating a mile a minute, faced with the dual conundrum of attempting to unmask Levi’s intentions without betraying yourself and your questionable past in the process. Poised at the front door, you might have stood there for an eternity, if Ellie hadn’t opened the door briskly, looking as though she were going to hug you.

“Thank God!” she exclaimed, pulling you by the scarf abruptly into an uncharacteristic hug and slamming the door shut dramatically behind you. Whispering quietly into your ear she muttered, “Levi the dick is here…”. Attempting to hide a timid smile, you removed your winter coat and shakily entered the dining area. At least you had one person on your side. Rounding the corner you were greeted by a sight more intimidating than any classroom or clicker ambush; Tommy, Maria, Joel and Levi were all seated formally at the dining room table, awaiting your entrance. Joel stood immediately, his eyes softening from the hardened glare he had been directing towards Levi before your appearance.

“Hey teach” Joel’s voice rumbled lowly in the room as Maria waved with encouragement, “Won’t you join us?”. Levi had a crocodile-like smile, dripping with metaphoric honey as much as poison. Wonder where he kept his fangs?

“What a surprisin’ reunion! Ain’t that right, Teach?” Levi sweetly drawled, poised to pull out your chair before Joel did so himself, barring Levi’s attempt with his own broad shoulders. 

“We were just talking about you” Joel smiled tiredly, offering an encouraging squeeze of your shoulder under Levi’s watchful gaze.

“Tommy tells me you're the school marm, and I’m not a bit surprised!” Levi began, reaching for food without anyone’s permission. Spewing biscuit crumbs immediately across the table he continued, “Teach and I go waaaaay back, ain’t that right? She’s real good at meetin’ people’s needs AND followin’ orders. Once you grant our continued stay here at the commune, we’ll be able to REALLY catch up…” he nearly threatened, with enough bravado to overshadow the entire evening, as Joel stared fixedly in his direction.

“Well, now that everyone has assembled let’s start the discussion and the dinner! Ellie, you and Joel have done a wonderful job hosting us this evening” Maria took control of the conversation before Levi completely dominated it.

“S’no trouble” Joel muttered, shifting his gaze from Levi to you, his countenance immediately crumbling as he noticed your terrified expression. 

“Levi, we couldn’t be more thankful for your assistance during the Elk Creek ambush. Sounds like you arrived just in time…” Maria thoughtfully offered, beginning to pass the bowl of green beans around the table.

“My posse and I couldn’t be more pleased, ma’am” Levi drolled, reaching abruptly across Ellie to grab the bowl of green beans, entirely unaware of her scowling grimace. “‘Spect you could use some more strong men to help lead this growing commune…”. You could have sworn you heard Joel mutter some quiet profanities under his breath, but kept your head lowered shamefully.

Maria paused, momentarily annoyed, but continued onward. “Funny you should mention new leadership. We’ve just offered our resident teacher a new administrative position she has happily accepted”. 

Ellie beamed appreciatively, making a small congratulatory fist, “Alright, teach! Way to go!” You lifted your head slightly to catch a small nod from Joel offering a similar encouragement. The dinner table became decidedly more quiet as Levi’s countenance darkened bitterly.

“S’that so?” he toyed, setting the bowl down delicately and turning his attention towards you. “Never woulda figured teach as a leader type…” he feigned thoughtfulness, reaching a hand under the table and grabbing your upper thigh possessively. Joel caught sight of your shift in posture, as he began tightening his fists at his sides. Something was wrong. Why were you letting Levi push you around like this?

“Do you wanna tell ‘em sweet pea, or should I?” Levi threatened coyly, gripping your thigh painfully as tears began to threaten at the edges of your vision.

“Tell what?” Tommy hesitated, looking to Maria for support. You gritted your teeth stubbornly, wringing your hands quietly in your lap. 

“Hey, doucheface, why don’t you take your hand off her leg before I stab you with my butter knife” Ellie’s pointed accusation held more ferocity than you would have guessed, as you flashed on her former confession. In that moment, you had no doubt whatsoever that she could make good on her threat, but you felt a sense of nausea, placing her in such a tenuous position.

“Maybe it’s time for you to leave” Joel’s voice was barely audible, as Levi carefully removed his hand, placing it upright in a mock surrendered position.

“No harm, right teach?” he looked to you with superficial humility. “I just wanna tell ‘em what a great worker you were…you know…in the time before? You were always REAL good at meeting’ people’s needs. Satiatin’ their desires and such…” he proceeded slowly, increasingly aware of his volatile position.

“Don’t…” Joel threatened, gripping the dining room table as though he would about to shatter it into a million pieces.

“Joel…” Tommy cautioned, rising out of his chair slightly, attempting to grab hold of the situation.

“This isn’t a job interview, Levi. What if you told us more about you and your group…” Maria shifted with discomfort, hugging her belly protectively, as Ellie stiffened in defense of your vulnerable position.

“Yeah, Joel, no harm in listenin’” Tommy attempted to placate, moving slowly as though towards a cornered animal, and trying to gently situate himself between his brother and his nearby wife.

Joel’s eyes seemed to impale you with the emotional force of a dagger, as he looked to you for confirmation. A single tear fell lightly to the plate before you. There were no words. Joel knew everything already. But now he was about to get confirmation of your greatest fear, your biggest shame. The memories that kept you up at night, and the desperation that shrouded almost every joy.

“Just think you would want to know your resident teach was the absolute best girl I had the privilege of employin’…in the time before. What’dya say teach? Give ‘em a quickie, for old time’s sake? Looks like Joel is sweet on you already…”.

Levi barely had time to finish his sentence before Joel shoved him backwards to the floor, pinning him and the dining room chair violently to the ground. Levi kicked powerfully, against the table, sending it into disarray, but Joel had a knee positioned strongly against his chest and a forearm squeezed tautly against his windpipe. Tommy quickly moved Maria out of the way defensively before trying to peel Joel off of his target.

“Say more…” Joel growled, in a nearly feral tone you had never heard but often suspected. He knew. This is what he had known, but never said out loud. But there was no reason or rationale in his mind at present. His vision was a wash of red, turbulent red, as he watched Levi’s eyes bulge in desperation. Ellie sprang to her feet, grabbing the nearest carving knife and setting herself between you and the flailing form of Levi, whose face was starting to purple intensely.

The room was heated with a buzzing electricity as you raised your eyes with rapt attention to the man splayed before you. “Joel…” you whispered, his head immediately snapping back to see your tender and nearly angelic expression. “Let him go…”. It was as though a switch snapped in Joel’s mind, as he immediately loosed his grip, Levi sputtering and coughing pathetically on the floor. Tommy hoisted Joel to his feet, before he had a chance to change his mind.

“Looks like you better get goin’ soon, Levi” Maria threatened, still holding her stomach, eyes blazing with fierceness, as Ellie twirled the carving knife slowly in her hand.

Levi stumbled precariously to his feet, as Tommy grabbed Joel instinctively around the shoulders, attempting to hold him in place. “Get out” Joel spat, his knuckles a whitened fervor as he clenched his jaw with the last bit of restraint he had. Levi rubbed at his neck incredulously, looking around the room in defeat before shuffling to the front door dejectedly. 

“Guess we’re not wanted” he rasped, before flinging the door open to the winter’s bite. “I’ll be seein’ you, teach!” he cast an enigmatic accusation your way before trudging through the snow angrily, his silhouette beginning to disappear in the snowy tundra. The dinner party stared after him in awkward silence as small flurries of snow coldly circled into the living room.

“Asshole” Ellie muttered, breaking the tension slightly and tossing the knife onto the table brusquely.

“Language” you jokingly whispered, but your voice cracked in emotional defeat. Who were you to chastise anyone? Who were you to instruct the next inspiring generation of young leaders, when you had made such questionable choices in your youth? How had you been so foolhardy as to think you could escape the desperation of your past, in a newfound desperation of the future?

“Didn’t like that guy from the get go” Tommy offered, leading Maria back to the table gently and setting a hand firmly on her shoulder.

“Truth will always out” Maria nodded, placing her hand shakily on the dining room table and breathing deeply. “Give a man enough rope and he’ll hang himself…” she darkly added, glancing up to see your crumbling countenance. “Teach, this doesn’t change a thing…” she began, but you were already headed out the open doorway.

“Thank you for dinner…” you sobbed, grabbing your coat and running out the door as fast as your boots would carry you. Fairly certain that Levi had headed the opposite direction, your only goal was to make it home, before the rest of your dignity collapsed around you.

Joel stood completely transfixed like a statue, nearly paralyzed with the indecision of his own forceful emotion until Ellie’s voice rang out, “Go Joel! Go get her!”.

Don’t have to tell him twice. Joel bulldozed through the center of the living room, not even stopping for his own coat and racing after you doggedly. The snow immediately nipped at his aching knees, but he wasn’t letting you go. Not again. Not when he had so much to say, and no earthly idea how to say it. He didn’t consider himself an eloquent man. But when there were no words, his actions had always spoken volumes.

Finally reaching your faltering form, he grabbed you emphatically by the elbow and whirled you around to meet his gaze. Your eyes were already red from crying, body shuddering in despair as you struggled half-heartedly in his grasp.

“Don’t listen to him!” Joel shouted over the din of the surrounding winds. “We need you at the commune…I need you!” he felt the words tumble precariously from his lips, but he didn’t care. Seeing the anguish painting your face had unlocked a passion within him that he hadn’t let himself truly feel in years. He couldn’t let you go. Your knees buckled slightly with the intensity of his unexpected words, as the hot blaze of tears continued to cascade, unbidden down your snow kissed cheeks.

“Joel…I…” you stuttered nervously, bracing yourself against his broad chest and sinking your weight against him. The seduction of the moment was moving you like two, fated magnets, against the storm, until his lips were mere inches from yours. He hesitated for only a second before smashing his mouth against yours, his jaw violently moving in supplication, like a prayer. Caressing over, and over, and over, as your soul leapt to meet his. You weren’t sure how the commune would eventually react, if news of your scandalous background ever reached the probing ears of town gossip. But in that moment of passion and acceptance, you knew you had truly found a new beginning. A new reason for living. A new home.

You had found Joel.

Moody Theater

I'm fairly certain our guy HATES the laugh/cry meme even though we love it. But have you ever watched this full production of "I, My Ruination"? It is absolutely gorgeous and Pedge really shines in his theatrical spotlight.

Act One Act Two

I think cinema is his first love, and we'll be able to enjoy him for years to come, but maybe someday he'll circle back around to us Broadway Babies...

*don't forget to clock the technical faux pas which we love almost as much

Crime and Punishment The Visitor

Grab a latte! Time for a sweet treat before you head into The Bookshop! Check out "Sleepy" by @starlightandfairies when you get a chance!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, discussions of death, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", abusive "ex" type character enters the picture

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

Winter seemed to stretch before you like an interminable blanket of scarcity. You didn’t know if this season were particularly harsh, or if the tumultuous relationships you had begun to form were impacting your perceptions. “Crime and Punishment” indeed. Caught between a rock and a hard place, there had been no real opportunity for conversation since that fateful night at the Miller Household. Not only did you find yourself vibrating with the palpable realization that Joel had his suspicions, but another patrol had almost immediately necessitated his absence. You found yourself slotted between the desperation of seeing his face again, and avoiding that confrontation completely. The anxiety of his potential return had almost overshadowed your own misgivings, coupled with the unlikely possibility that he might not remember the drunken conversation at all. Regardless, something had peaked his attention, and you could only hope you would have the chance to talk things out once and for all.

Winding your way from your humble abode down the soggy streets of the Jackson Commune, you were almost grateful for the momentary distraction of a commune meeting. You’d received a personal invitation from Maria days before, in your mailbox, and were curious as to the tonality of the discussion. As always, you were planning to blend seamlessly into the background as more vociferous members complained about rations, resource allotment, commune responsibilities and more. Stuffing your hands further into your pockets you were doubly curious as to why the town meeting was so early in the morning, and only seeing a few solitary souls dotting the commune main street. Had you mixed up the times?

Trudging up the solitary steps you headed into the main eating area that doubled for community activities, immediately halting your steps at the echoing sight that greeted you. The dining area was completely empty, save for a long table at the back end of the room with three chairs. It was seating for Tommy, Maria…and you. You heart dropped into your stomach as your breath caught in your throat. WHAT was this? Had Joel said something about his suspicions? Maria had always been shrewd, and a formidable leader, maybe even more so with the expectation of giving birth in the next several months. If anything, it seemed to have provided a clarity of purpose and a voracity of intention you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be stacked against. You had the momentary terror of being asked to leave, but quickly shoved it from your mind, almost guiltily heading towards them.

“Tommy. Maria…” you began, feeling your posture collapse into itself though hoping for a more confident facade.

“Teach!” Tommy exclaimed, oddly mirroring Joel’s mannerisms for a split second, before pulling out a chair for you under Maria’s hawk-like gaze. “Thanks for joining us!”

“Glad you could make it” Maria politely smiled, a hand tucked under the table to cradle her burgeoning belly.

“Didn’t quite realize this was going to be a solo venture” you mumbled, reaching for the water that had been laid out for you conscientiously. “Is Joel back from patrol yet?” the words were out of your mouth before you had a chance to hold them back, as Maria’s eyebrows shot up questioningly.

“No, they’ve been gone for almost a week again. Patrols are getting longer and harder the further we venture into Elk Creek and Mountain View. Dangerous too…” Tommy begrudgingly admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck dejectedly. “Hate to not be with ‘em…”.

“We talked about this” Maria muttered under her breath, eliciting a sharp look from Tommy in retort. “You can’t lead every patrol AND lead the commune from within. We’re already stretched too thin, and I have my own responsibilities” she emphasized, firmly but kindly, as he nodded acquiescently.

“Talked to Joel” Tommy added, “before he left”. Your heart lurched violently in your chest. Jesus, was this is? The moment they asked you to leave the commune for good, finally aware of your questionable past. Unfit for teaching, unfit for living, unfit for…

“Told us that you were trustworthy. Like family”. The words hung in the air as you sputtered helplessly with your glass of water, watching Maria’s reactions from across the way.

“What?” you croaked, coughing slightly in the echoing dining hall. “What did he say exactly?” 

“That was about it. Joel’s not one for lengthy conversations. We’re…uh…looking into leadership expansion and Joel said you were the one to ask…” Tommy trailed off, looking at Maria hesitantly. You stared at the both of them, uncomprehending.

“I have my reservations about Joel” Maria began, as Tommy hissed begrudgingly under his breath “but he wouldn’t even consider the position. His first recommendation was to ask you…” she stated curtly, folding her hands across the desk imploringly. “We need you to step up and lead” she finished. Your mouth parted in shock and concern. Leadership? Whatever suspicions Joel had about your past, he had either kept to himself or those opinions weren’t weighing heavily on the proceedings before you. You desperately wished you knew which one.

“But I’m…” you paused, unwilling to go into more detail, “I’m just…a teacher” you stalled, unsure of what requirements you were stepping into. If Tommy and Maria didn’t know about your background already, the moment they did, it would immediately derail any hopes of future expansion. Better to stay in the background as much as possible, while still proving yourself useful.

“You’re a lot more than just a teacher, and you know it” Tommy unwittingly bruised your disappearing ego. “You care for the next generation of The Jackson Commune, you’re an upstanding citizen, knowledgeable and friendly, and trustworthy. And we need you”. The silence was deafening as you considered their words. You didn’t want to incite suspicion with more deflection. Maria was about as investigatory as they come, and her pregnancy seemed to elicit an almost supernatural power of insight you didn’t want to overtly incur. As though perceiving your hesitation telepathically, she joined Tommy’s request.

“Things are steadily going to become more difficult for me as I approach the due date” she knowingly smirked. “I’ve got to be realistic about my own limitations, and start including others in the leadership process. I don’t know what this might involve, but can we count on your cooperation?” she almost pleaded, tilting her head to the side sympathetically. You took a deep breath before launching forward.

“I’m here” you stated bluntly, rubbing your hands together nervously. No turning back now. Come hell or high water, you were a citizen of the Jackson Commune, and whether they could unconditionally accept you, you were invested lock, stock and barrel in the health and wealth of the growing community. It was time to double down, whatever the consequences might turn out to be. Both Tommy and Maria sat back victoriously in their chairs, looking to one another in affirmation and resolve.

“Like I said, we don’t know much about the specifics, but as soon as Joel and the patrol party get back, we should have some idea of how this plays out” Tommy offered, standing courteously.

“Any quick questions before we adjourn?” Maria asked judiciously.

“Who’s Sarah?” you blurted out, almost covering your mouth with embarrassment, but holding firm to the question. If you were going to trust The Miller Family with your secrets, you needed a better understanding of some of their own. Tommy immediately sat back down solemnly, looking back to Maria tentatively.

“What did Joel tell you?” Maria asked, her eyes squinting cautiously in appraisal.

“Not much” you confessed “I could just tell that….he wanted to” you shrugged your shoulders placatingly, desperate to know more, but hesitant to push the matter. The silence deepened as Tommy and Maria seemed to communicate without words, Tommy haltingly stuttering, 

“If…” he cleared his throat sensitively “…if Joel already mentioned Sarah, you could…ask Ellie about it, too” he clicked his tongue guiltily. “Just go slow, teach. That’s not a topic you should hover around needlessly” he intoned, tilting his head forward darkly. You sighed heavily, acknowledging his implied warning. Understood.

“Thanks for coming by” Maria gravely stated, gesturing for your exit which you quickly took advantage of. Leaving the large dining area, the blast of cold winter air was like a refreshing slap in the face, steeling your resolve and snapping you back into reality. You needed to know more. Joel’s continued absences were not only making progress difficult, but you had to admit the stress of longing was waring. Every time he left, you wondered if he would make it back, and Ellie must be feeling the loss even more intently. Perhaps you could seek solace in the company of one another. Standing at the commune crossroads, you finally decided to venture past The Bookshop. Maybe it would prove comforting, even symbolically.

Arriving at the door, you always saw the stark “CLOSED” sign teetering bitterly in the window, but caught a quick glimpse of a lazy, orange tail flicking past the bookshelves. Joel might not be there, but Rascal the Cat was. Trying the doorknob you easily entered to the comforting sound of the ringing bell, as Ellie’s face popped curiously from behind a stack of books.

“Joel?” she uttered, before registering her temporary disappointment.

“Just me kiddo, sorry…” you apologized, enjoying the warmth of the wood burning stove, but feeling the loss of Joel’s presence as much as Ellie did.

“Sorry teach…Joel is on another patrol, and Rascal was gettin’ restless” she sighed, re-stacking the books in an unknown order and throwing her hands up helplessly.

“I think I know how he feels” you commiserated, joining Ellie on the The Bookshop floor and wrapping your arms protectively around your knees. “Did he say anything before he left?” you probed, wanting to be gentle, but also gnawing at the bit. Maybe Rascal wasn’t the only one feeling restless.

“No, I just caught him the morning before he left again. Said you had talked the night before?” she questioned, her eyebrows raised with curiosity. “Did he seem okay?”.

You smiled tenderly, reflecting on Joel’s vulnerable inebriation, and longing to reach out and touch his face in that exact moment. “He seemed…tired” you confessed “and…a bit…sad. Mentioned something about…Sarah” your voice nearly disappeared as you second guessed your line of conversation, but found yourself running out of time and options. Joel was hopefully going to come back any moment, and you were more than ready to offer whatever support and encouragement you could. But how could you do that without knowing the type of wound you were encountering? Ellie seemed momentarily surprised and a bit unsure of herself as Rascal the Cat rounded the corner, butting its head against her shoulder playfully.

“He told you about her?” she began, absentmindedly petting Rascal and shifting with discomfort.

“He mentioned her, and you…and someone else named Tess”.

Ellie shifted uncomfortably once again, her lips drawn tightly in resolution.

“Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but Tommy and Maria seemed to think it was a good idea” you slotted the final piece of information in carefully, as though negotiating with a nuclear explosion. “If you don’t think it’s appropriate, please forget that I asked…”.

Ellie breathed in quickly, an inhale of relief washing across her face momentarily, before Rascal started purring contentedly. “Just don’t tell Joel that I told you” she looked around conspiratorially as though expecting him to pop into the room clandestinely without her knowledge. “Sarah is…Sarah WAS Joel’s real…Sarah was Joel’s daughter” the words finally cascaded forth, anxious for their revelation. As though in support, Rascal mewled affectionately as you nodded your head in affirmation. 

Of course. So many things were starting to coalesce. Joel’s protection of Ellie, his isolation, the supportive father figure that he was. Steeling yourself against the barrage of emotion you sat in silence wondering at the many twists and turns of life and death. You continued to feel helpless in the face of such insurmountable suffering. Maybe the only comfort you could provide was a solace for confession and expression in a world of silent punishments, and maybe it would have to be enough. “And Tess?” you gently added.

“I don’t like talking about Tess” Ellie huffed, moving Rascal off of her lap as he smugly trotted away. “She saved me and Joel, and then she died. And it pissed me off, if I’m being honest” she barreled through the admonition, leaning back against the bookshelf resignedly before quietly smiling. “Not sure what that is” she pondered, fingering the pages of the nearby books pensively. “Don’t see why death should cause so much…anger”.

You tilted your head sideways, once again surprised by Ellie’s preternatural wisdom. Circumstances may have catapulted the next generation into a premature adulthood, but there was a lot to be learned from the ranks coming up. “Death is one of the most visceral of all human experiences, and we get to fully inhabit our humanity when we wrestle with it. It’s like a dance. A beautiful, horrible dance” you offered, just as perplexed as Ellie was.

“I’m glad Joel has you” Ellie whispered, tightly hugging her abdomen as though she were about to pull apart.

“I’m not the only one you guys have” you nudged Ellie’s boot with your outstretched foot as she hesitantly met your eyes with acknowledgement. “I’m glad you have each other…”.

The peaceful silence was punctuated by the wood burning stove, until you noticed a solitary figure begin running down the main thoroughfare of town. A quick intake of air was met by the telltale alarms of a returning patrol as you and Ellie locked eyes emphatically.

“Joel”.

Running down the mainstream, arm in arm you ran as fast as the lingering snow would allow, a small group of town’s folk assembling at the front gate. Your breath halted in your throat seeing the purpose driven pace of the patrol approaching, though not apparently in distress or escaping trouble. You uttered a small cry of relief seeing the bags of resources they had in tow, swiftly scanning the group to find Joel’s telltale winter’s coat.

“There!” Ellie pointed euphorically, as Joel’s formidable frame came into focus, galloping towards The Jackson Commune. Damn, he looked good. You squinted helplessly, trying to identify any cuts or abrasions, though he initially seemed to be in one piece. You attempted to quell the disparate emotions vying for attention in the overwhelming thrum of your heartbeat. This was it. Whatever Joel remembered from his inebriated conversation, he had obviously reconciled himself to whatever suspicions he may have previously held. Maybe he didn’t know what he thought he knew. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

You watched from a distance as Ellie raced to meet him, Joel cautiously dismounting from his horse as Ellie poked and prodded at him inquisitively. He DID have a few abrasions you noticed as you neared the party, Joel quickly making eye contact with you from several feet away. A smile teased at the corners of your mouth until you noticed the severity of his external injuries.

“What the hell, Joel?” you exclaimed, reaching up to his forehead concernedly, as he took your hand gently in his.

“Good to see you too, teach” he winced with discomfort as Ellie prodded at his upper arm. “Not a science experiment…” he grumbled, though his mouth betrayed a tremor of affection.

“What happened? Any clickers? Get any good books?” Ellie immediately interrogated, taking Joel’s pack from his shoulder and starting to pat down the nearby steed.

“Ran into some trouble up by Elk Creek. No clickers, but patches of raiders pocketed in the harsher territories. Met up with some scattered folks that gave us a hand…” Joel clicked his tongue begrudgingly, absentmindedly rubbing a small circle into your outstretched palm. That was new. “Found a copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’” Joel lowly intoned, his eyes sparkling mischievously, as you gawked incredulously. “Had to go through a heap of mess to get it” he whispered, as you slapped him good naturedly on the shoulder eliciting another small wince. Taking his arm in yours, you decided to save the chastisement for later, before escorting him to the medical facilities for a quick check.

“Looks like I can start assigning even more homework for our next adventure” you teased, so thankful to have Joel back in your sights and back in the safety of the commune. Maybe you were starting to believe in happy endings.

“Well, as I live and breathe! If it isn’t ‘The Teach!’”

A smarmy voice penetrated your bubble of happiness as your heart skipped several beats. You gripped Joel’s hand in a white knuckled vice, attempting to keep your face as stoic as possible, before turning slowly towards the familiar gravel, you had so happily escaped in year’s past. Joel’s face flicked to yours intensely as Ellie’s face contorted in skepticism.

“Levi” you drawled sarcastically, plastering a smile across your face politely, and gripping Joel’s hand even tighter. Joel positioned himself ever so slightly ahead of you, broadening his chest and staring fixedly at the stranger that stood before him.

“Couldn’t be more grateful to The Jackson Commune for welcoming us sorry band of misfits for a temporary respite”. Levi’s voice was as honeyed and calculated as ever, but you had learned long ago to distrust every iota of Levi’s practiced and sinister promises. “Looks like your Joel found himself between a rock and hard place. We were just happy to arrive when we did, and give ‘em a hand” Levi extended his hand to Joel who summarily dismissed it, coldly.

“Happy to get you back on your way after a square meal” Joel gritted his teeth harshly, watching your staunch expression, and growing more adversarial by the minute.

“Where ya from anyways?” Ellie squinted skeptically, already attuned to the tension in the frigid winter air.

“Oh we go way back, isn’t that right, teach?” Levi lightly touched your elbow which you jerked back reflexively. 

“Let’s get you to the medical bay” you uttered briskly, dragging Joel behind you before he did something you would both regret. Joel clenched his jaw resolutely, watching your face intently as he followed. You tried desperately to ignore the salty tears cascading down your cheeks with abandon, but the heat of Joel’s gaze seemed to propel them forward. Joel might not care about your questionable background, but there was no doubt in your mind;

Your past had just walked in through the gates of The Jackson Commune. And right now, there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to escape it.

Feeling Finkish

Holidays were rough, but this guy kept me company!

*thanks soul sparklettes art for the cute scrapbook background!

Crime and Punishment Fic-Let

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: profanity, alcohol consumption, no dubcon just drunk Joel seeking solace, spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", "Last of Us" canon, references to injury/violence/murder/prostitution...Psh...@iamasaddie I took this in a totally different direction than I expected! Thank you for the fic-let prompt, this fit in perfectly to the series.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

The whiskey infused fragrance of Joel’s breath fanned across your face seductively, as he balanced precariously behind the back of the sofa. Feeling a surge of arousal, euphoria, concern and fear was a heady mixture, as you glanced upstairs to ensure Ellie was still asleep.

“Joel, I’m so glad you’re back, and that you’re safe” you began, as he shymied out of his winter’s coat, letting it drop clumsily to the floor.

“I ever told you how pretty you are?” he slurred, tipping backward with relaxation, as you gripped his wrists firmly.

“Why don’t you come on over here, Miller, and tell me while you’re sitting down?” you cocked an eyebrow sky high, determined to shield Ellie from this temporary lapse, and equally insistent to protect Joel in his vulnerable state. Dragging him carefully around the couch, you heard the cat utter a plaintive meow of encouragement as Joel’s heavy-laden feet staggered to your side before he collapsed unceremoniously next to you.

“Preeeeetty eyes, pretty little mouth…pretty skin…” he rambled, the full weight of his body sinking into the couch rapturously, as his eyes fluttered half mast. You gulped hungrily, trying to still the yearning within you. Tucking your feet underneath yourself, you leaned forward to place a hand atop his forehead, dragging it down slowly to find his chiseled, and grizzled face.

“What happened to you, Miller?” you pouted, closing the book that was in your lap and sighing with relief as Joel closed his eyes contentedly.

“Pretty thoughts too…” he mumbled, fighting a losing battle against his own inebriation, as you brought your hand down to his chest, feeling the steadiness of his thrumming heart. His eyes shot open abruptly, as he swayed slightly upright, “Ellie here?”.

“She’s fine, just relax soldier…” you coo’d, as Joel collapsed once again, drawing his hand to find yours. 

“Didn’t do my homework” he grinned, nuzzling his face into the side of the couch and stroking your arm affectionately.  You smiled sweetly, looking over at the orange tabby for any encouragement whatsoever, and finding none.

“I think we can make an exception, just this once” you whispered, starting to draw a quilt around Joel’s broad frame in the hopes he would simply drift off to sleep.

“I did it, ya know?” he muttered, shivering slightly with the changing temperature and settling further into the furniture’s embrace. “I’m a Rascal…”. You wrinkled your brow in consternation. This couldn’t just be from the lengthy week’s patrol. What was antagonistically driving Joel to seek solace at the bottom of a bottle? And what did this have to do with “Crime and Punishment”? Or the character, Rascalnikov?

“Rascal is suffering, that’s for sure. But he’s gonna get justice and redemption and Love. He just has to go through a heap of punishment first…” you tried to deflect, soothing Joel as much as possible with feather light strokes through his hair and across his forehead.

“So much sufferin’…” Joel’s face crumpled in anguish before resuming a mask of stoicism. “Tess…Sarah…and Ellie…Sofia…”.

You pursed your lips with appraisal. It sounded like fantasy and reality were starting to collide. Did he mean Sofia, the prostitute? Who were Tess and Sarah? Lovers? Friends? Family? A barrage of questions besieged you as Joel muttered under his breath quietly. “I’m gonna get you some water” you stalled, before Joel’s hand shot out reflexively to grab your wrist. Strong. That was gonna bruise tomorrow, but you didn’t flinch. He needed you right now. Needed something.

“Sofia…” his eyes glossed over with an emotive sheen. Who were these people?

“Joel, who is Tess?” Joel stilled quietly, his breathing evening out steadily. “Who is Sarah?” you mumbled lowly to yourself, biting your lower lip.

“Sarah’s my girl…” Joel surged to life tentatively, looking around the room as though searching for a ghost. “Sarah’s…gone…Sarah’s…my Sarah…” he repetitively intoned, like a mournful mantra. Lover? Sister? This was obviously not the time or place, but maybe you could inquire sensitively with Ellie, if she even knew. “And my Sofia…” his fingers found your face tenderly as you met his eyes with compassion. What had happened to this beautiful man, and how could you possibly help?

“Try to sleep Joel” you shook your head with concern. This was no time for an interrogation, and you didn’t immediately see any injuries or bruises. Like so many scars of life, these wounds seemed altogether invisible to the eye and yet still completely damaging to the heart.

“I know…you know?” he whispered into the couch, as though seducing an unknown lover.

“What honey? What do you know?” you sighed watching his eyes flutter shut in heavier sleep.

“Know you’re not a teach…” he trailed off, finally snoring quietly, his arms dropping to his side uselessly. Your mouth parted slightly in acknowledgement, as the orange tabby stared at you uncannily silhouetted by the flickering firelight.

Shit.

Pedro Fandom Bingo Finale

I love these kinds of activities! Here's the last update, it's been a great year of Tumblr 💖 I have a separate reblog account so check out @pedrotease for all the deets! And thanks to @burntheedges for the fun prompt! Finale Bingo, thanks to the writers for all you do!

Dave York No One Has to Know What We Do @guiltyasdave Down Bad @schnarfer The Roomate Agreement @auteurdelabre Melt @sizzlingcloudmentality Dieter Sweet Dee @yopossum Devotion, Self Care w/ Dieter + Jett @morallyinept My Darling Muse Mr. Ben Visiting @ladamedusoif Ternion @exquisiteserotonin Joel Miller All Good Things @criticallyacclaimedstranger Oberyn Unshelled @inept-the-magnificent He Will Slay You With His Tongue @iamasaddie Hurt/Comfort Trope (Joel Edition) Somewhere to Run, I Know Who You Are @punkshort Nothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfiction Javier Pena Kinktober 2024 @flightlessangelwings Afterglow Marcus Pike Is It Real? @f0rever15elf Pike's Place Pero Tovar Drabble #4 @toomanystoriessolittletime General Acacius Soak @juletheghoul Din Shower Sex @pedropascallme Javi Gutierrez Slow @morallyinept Phoenix Rising Agent Whiskey Glorification @morallyinept How Much Does Devotion Weight? @anabdaniels Marcus Moreno Thanksgiving Delights Cock Warming @flightlessangelwings Frankie Morales You're My Stranger in the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Moody Frankie New Pedro Character Little Dove @palioom Unmasked Tim Rockford The Detective and the Agent @604to647 Husband Material Max Phillips Blood Sucking Witch Ezra One Stop Shop @morallyinept

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.

PIP? Pining In Progress....

Now that Pedge and I have 100 followers we are feeling cocky AF....AND we had a little holiday health scare. Imagine my adolescent embarrassment when the only regret that surfaced was that I haven't written Papi Pascal a fan note expressing my (hopefully not dying) love and adoration. I CAN'T stomach an IG message that will easily go unseen, so I'm wondering if anyone can PM me another option! Back in the days of yore, fan mail was so much easier. I don't wanna meet him, a girl just needs to express herself, you know what I mean jelly bean? I'd rather have my perfumed note disappear in the literal ether, rather than the digital one...

OMG it happened. 100 followers, one day late. WE'RE FAMOUS. Pedge is famous.

*much like an orgasm I need to announce it before it goes away...

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 

The One That Almost...

Triggers: meandering weirdness, SH, ideation, illness, spirituality, asexuality, profanity...good luck...

Y'all, this year was strange. I doubled down on therapy and fitness...and crying, if we're honest. I went back to an old job for less money. I started communicating more with my employer about chronic illness, and I disappeared from a vibrant social life almost entirely.

No Pedge, my darling, I am NOT okay, but in 2024 I developed a genuine appreciation for that. Having survived a hysterectomy, my body is embarking on the next strange reboot, and most of the holidays were derailed because of this.

I'm not sure I've ever cried so much or been so confused. Yesterday I didn't even leave the house, and today I'm visiting the parentals to celebrate New Year by 8pm flat. And then I'm leaving lol. I've been so encouraged by Pedge's unconventional holiday because I feel like he GETS it.

I'm displeased with the election results, my parents are struggling, and my health prognosis is nebulous. I was offered a Broadway Tour that I declined, did no substantial traveling, and cultivated an AMAZING friendship with a man who is on the other side of the country. Broke up with my "gay husband", experimented with an "ace" label, discovered I don't want to get married or have kids, and am deconstructing my spiritual beliefs one devastating reality at a time.

AND...I'm writing a TON. I'm showing up more authentically in ALL my relationships, including self. I am more convinced than ever of the experience of Love, and somehow I continue to make my world a better place. I'm turning out to be the love of my life!

It's confusing as hell, but I'm not dead yet, and by golly I'm happy about that! I get to exist! I still haven't met Papi Pascal, but I'm not actually sure I want to. Everybody I know who has worked with him says he's a dream, and I believe them. Just knowing that we exist in the same world makes me happy, and today, that's enough. Plus, I had one quick convo with Coco, and she's just as sweet as our guy. I continue to be entranced.

Adding the button to my year of "almosts" I've been waiting to celebrate having 100 followers...as I'm stuck at 99. I considered doing some sort of Tumblr campaign, but honestly, WHY? I write for me! Goals are good, but this almost seems more fitting. I have a bazillion WIP's and it's helping me get through my health challenges, and that's what I need right now. As much of our Pazookie Pedge as we can STAND, and then a bit more...

So here is to a year of "almosts"! None of it looked quite right, it didn't follow my agenda, and it involved a lot more snot than anyone has a right to. But I still get to exist, and there's nothing "almost" about that. Thanks Pedro Pascal for being alive! I'm gonna try to do the same...

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!

Pedge's Bookshop The Murder

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. Bring your library card--this if one of my favorite tropes! This week, check out "Snooze" by @tightjeansjavi, it's a beautiful refreshment before our discussion turns to a darker roast...

Triggers: profanity, major spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", references to murder/violence, typical Last of Us canon, no smut yet, just bristling with...academia, cats (allergic?), too much coffee consumption...

Series Masterlist

It was quite early in the morning as you trudged through the main street of the Jackson Commune with a satchel of notepaper and a newfound pocketful of optimism. Only the local apothecary would be open this early, but truth be told, you hadn’t slept much the night before. Bracing yourself against the cold tundra winds, your boots crunching in the seemingly ever-present snow, you couldn’t help but indulge in the inner warmth of your recent hopeful encounter….with Joel.

Finding yourself on an extended winter break, your educational duties had slowed to a grinding halt, as you watched friends and local families celebrate the holidays in whatever unconventional way they could. You had to admit that Jackson had worked a small Christmas miracle in providing decency, organization and community in an otherwise sparse territory. But once again, the holidays only served to highlight your growing isolation in contrast. You loved the small niche you had been able to carve out for yourself, here at the end of the world. You just wished it included someone else. Or at least a good book to read. Enter Joel. 

Stumbling into the apothecary with a flurry of wind and snow, you made small talk with the shopkeep, casting a wary glance across the road to The Bookshop. You weren’t sure if Joel and his feline companion would even be accessible this early in the morning, but lo and behold, the bookshop was casting a cheery glow in the wintry dawn. It would be impossible to disguise your enthusiasm, returning a mere 12 hours since yesterday, but you felt restless as ever with the new prospect of passionate…discussion. Traipsing across Joel and this treasure trove of literary wonders had lit a small, ambitious fire within you. You hoped you weren’t getting too far ahead of yourself, but if the apocalypse had taught you anything it was to seize opportunities as soon as they presented themselves, and this was too good a chance to pass up. You weren’t sure if you could edge your way through Joel’s formidable emotional armor, but if Dostoyevsky could help you, all the better. Striking up a conversation about the classic “Crime and Punishment” had nudged a small crack in the otherwise impenetrable vizard of the commune’s most intriguing hermit, and you were determined to get your foot in the door, in more ways than one. Besides, it was good research if you were going to provide the most nurturing and educational atmosphere for his ward, Ellie. Trading for your small apothecary purchase, you crossed the distance to the bookshop, peering at the large “CLOSED” sign in the window. 

Tentatively trying the handle, you breathed a sigh of relief, pushing the door open to the telltale ringing sound of the bookshop bell. Quickly shutting the door, you sighed with contentment at the heat of the foyer. How was it so warm? Your eyes noticed the small wood burning stove in the book nook alcove, nodding your head in affirmation. You didn’t remember that from yesterday. Joel had really thought of everything. Reflecting back on your most recent encounter, you endeavored to make yourself immediately known to avoid a repeat surprise. Though, if totally honest, your stomach dipped slightly with the possibility of seeing his face again, whatever the circumstance. You had spent all night, jotting down notes from your memory of several decades past. The plot of “Crime and Punishment” was very straightforward, but the character names and subsequent themes were a labyrinth of literary genius, and you weren’t a hundred percent sure you could remember every detail. Gone were the days of Google, but you hoped the ongoing conversation with Joel could jog your memory. Or at the very least, maybe add a small spark of cheer to an otherwise dreary and somewhat lonely holiday season.

“Anybody home?” you called out optimistically, noticing the striking fragrance of coffee already permeating the bookshop as the orange tabby trotted in from the backroom, leading the way before Joel’s immediately imposing figure. Joel’s face was buried in a book, as he confidently strode forward, not making eye contact but heading to the wood burning stove. 

“Coffee?” he rasped, a new plaid shirt hugging the broad contours of his frame, as the cat nudged itself against your calves, already purring contentedly.

“Oh!” you quirked, curious as to Joel’s seeming bravado which contradicted his apparent anticipation of your “unexpected” arrival. Perhaps you weren’t the only one who was looking forward to another chance encounter? “I don’t want to use up your stock…” you mused, rummaging through your bags for the apothecary purchase.

“S’no trouble, I’ve got extra” Joel glanced sideways as you retrieved the small parcel of catnip. You thought you caught the smallest upturn of his mouth, but it was immediately gone under your watchful gaze.

“I’ll bet you like that, don’t you, Rascal?” you teased the cat playfully, dangling the treat to its clawing attacks. “What do you think, is that a good name for our furry companion?” you questioned, setting your bag near the foyer armchair and removing your winter scarf.

“You’re the expert, teach” Joel finally looked up, a crackle of electricity flashing across his countenance that quickly disappeared as he turned his back to you, heading towards the wood burning stove. “Hope you like it dark…” he stated matter-a-factly, pouring the coffee into a nearby ceramic and shoving it towards you unceremoniously. “Least it’s hot…” he shrugged, watching you mindfully and towering above you as you sat in the comfortable arm chair.

Pausing as you realized he expected you to drink it immediately, you quickly grabbed the offering, bringing the cup to your lips enthusiastically. This was short lived, as the potent beverage jolted through your system, eliciting a coughing fit, covered by bouts of laughter. “Strong…” you wheezed, nodding your head with appreciation.

“You’re just like Ellie” he grumbled, though apparently satisfied with your reaction and heading back to the front counter. “Wht’s the good of coffee if it ain’t strong?” he argued, picking up the book and furrowing his brow in consternation.

“Made it through part two yet?” you probed, eyeing Joel conspiratorially. You wondered if there were only one copy of the book, as you wouldn’t mind a refresher before your next conversation.

“Not the best student, teach” Joel complained, shaking his head with self-deprecation. “Might be a lost cause…” he pondered, setting the book down and gesturing to the stack of books behind you. “Found another copy though…if you want it…” he lowered his gaze to the cat’s playful self-banter, though as your face lit up with recognition, his attention snapped quickly to your ebullient reaction. Grabbing the nearby quilt, you wrapped yourself up in the warmth of familiarity, tracing a finger down the spine of this most recent copy, as though handling a sacred artifact. Nowadays, it really was. These could be the only two copies in the world, for all you knew. You hugged the book to your chest, basking in the warmth of luxury. Opening your eyes you noticed Joel watching you meticulously, his face nearly unreadable, but his eyes shining brightly with acknowledgement.

“Okay” he nodded, returning to the book and leafing through the pages. “Rapscallion’s a damned near idiot if you ask me…” he mumbled, huffing with frustration and taking a large swig of his own coffee to punctuate the opinion.

“Raskolnikov?” your eyebrows lifted up to your forehead, tilting your head sideways and relishing the feline’s ongoing maneuvers. “I assume you’re not talking about the cat…” you jested, breathing in the musky fragrance of the book pages as you delicately fingered your way to the end of chapter six.

“Didn’t think he had it in’m” Joel scoffed, and you wondered if his tone were one of scathing judgement or clandestine admiration. “Guess you can never tell with people sometimes…” he decided, setting the book down heavily on the counter as though aching to avoid it. “Right at the beginning too!” he exclaimed, his eyes squinting with incredulity. “What’s the rest of the book about, anyhow?” he questioned, picking it back up restlessly.

“I can tell you the ending right now, if you want…” you teased, shuffling your feet together playfully and looking over the edge of the book mischievously.

“You wouldn’t dare” Joel gazed at you skeptically, as though trying to gauge your gumption. “What kinda teacher is that?” he mumbled, setting the book back down defiantly. “Could just flip to the end if I want…” he pouted, rubbing at the back of his neck with humility.

“You could, but then you’d miss all the angst” you sarcastically gibed, skimming through the previous pages to see if your memory had been relatively accurate.

“Got a teenager in my house with all the angst you could want” Joel contested, picking up the book one final time as though trying to decipher an ancient, mysterious text. The silence hung between the two of you, stretched into an odd sense of comfort as the quilt melted around you comfortingly and the wood stove crackled joyfully in the corner.

“I forgot about the illness…” you mused, skimming the surrounding pages and reaching for your notebook.

“Is this a pop quiz, teach?” Joel bantered, leafing through the pages cynically.

“No, no tests today, Miller. It’s just interesting to deconstruct the book after the contagion, you know?” you proffered, jotting down some ideas for future pondering. “Dostoyevsky was of the opinion that crime was a harbinger of illness, guilt, paranoia…all manner of psychological maladies that could isolate and twist the human psyche”. If you had glanced up at Joel you might have seen him blanch slightly at the observations, but it was immediately replaced with a mask of stoicism, as you continued. “Wonder what D would have to say about the pandemic of a society bent on destroying itself? A contagion not only of Cordyceps, but of corruption and violence itself. Wasn’t new to Dostoyevsky’s time and it certainly isn’t new to ours…” you trailed off, thankful to be housed in the armored atmosphere of the commune and its residents, rather than fighting and clawing for your own survival from one day to the next.

“Don’t expect the people in the last century had many more luxuries than we do now" Joel surmised, his mood immediately darkening under the onslaught of unarticulated memories. “Survival doesn’t allow for much livin’” he wisely stated, thumbing the ridge of his book as though looking for hidden insights.

“Wow, Miller, you might just get an ‘A’ on this quiz after all” you ventured, thinking through the poverty, trauma and history of humanity. What had allowed Dostoyevsky to transcend the challenges of his time, and speak so presciently into the horrors of our own? And what would he think about a society that could no longer hide the contagion of its own demise, clawing and grasping at any thread for survival while debating the loss of its own humanity? “Guess we started with the easy stuff…” you jested, momentarily soothed by the cat’s oblivious joy in such a simple activity.

“Nothing accidental about killin’” Joel bluntly intruded, enunciating his words definitively. “Kill or be killed, if you ask me…” a dark, foreboding seemed to encapsulate his demeanor, as a minuscule shiver rippled across his back. You haltingly held your breath, remembering your surprising encounter yesterday. There was something about Joel that seemed almost primal; a kind of wildness that fit the landscape you found each other in. You weren’t sure how applicable any of the previous societal norms were to a period of history already marked by such far-reaching lawlessness, but you were willing to bet Joel was at least tethered to the laws of nature. How could he and Ellie have survived without it? You were trying to formulate that very question when Joel interrupted again.

“But Rascal is different…” Joel meandered forward as you closed your mouth with hesitation. You’d never heard him utter this many words in the entire length of his commune residency, and you wondered how long he had kept these thoughts to himself. “Rascal…he doesn’t have to…I mean…he doesn’t have to…murder” Joel finally blurted out, slamming the book shut again as though at war with the material itself. Shaking his head with frustration, he headed over to the mismatched bookshelves and attempted to helplessly organize the haphazard assortment of found treasures. 

“Well, of course, I can’t be sure of Dostoyevsky’s intention, but maybe we have a case of Rascal doing the wrong thing, for the right reason?” you offered, setting your book to one side and rising to join Joel in the organization. “I’m not sure alphabetically sorting this cornucopia is going to be the best Dewey Decimal system…” you stated, beginning to pile books and magazines according to thematic interpretations.

“Horse-shit” Joel mumbled under his breath, pausing to look at you carefully, as though seeing something for the first time, and wondering at its validity.

“Why, how do you wanna organize it?” you threatened, pouting with annoyance.

“No, I just mean…you think he shoulda killed ‘em?” Joel spat with incredulity, placing his hands on his hips angrily.

“Oh! Now hold up…I didn’t say that. Come to think of it, Dostoyevsky didn’t even say that. Think about the dream for a sec…” you gathered up a stack of books, heading over to an empty bookshelf and clearing a space for general works and computer science, however irrelevant those topics currently seemed.

“That didn’t make any goddam sense either! Forgive my french, teach…” Joel sputtered, leaning over the bookshelf, now thoroughly engaged. “Iff you’ve got a mare, good and healthy, what’s the point of slaughtering it, just to prove a point?” he bellowed, smacking his hand against the wooden shelf for emphasis. You jumped ever so slightly at how demonstrative he was becoming, but passion was much better than apathy, you reasoned.

“Yeah, that’s one of the most famous metaphors of D’s writing prowess. You’ve got an exploration of man’s bestiality, the suffering of the horse, the innocence of the child. And Rascal is smack dab in the middle of it. I think the 100’s are all about philosophy or psychology or something like that…” you trailed off, trying to decide where to put the 2015 magazine copy of Maxim.

“Still don’t make no sense” Joel returned to grumbling and shoving books around the shelf distractedly. “He goes to all the trouble of planning the murder, and then doesn’t even hide his crime. Keeps blamin’ everybody but himself. I don’t know, teach, it’s almost like he WANTS to get caught…” Joel tossed his hands up flippantly, huffing like an old steam engine, finally giving up. “More coffee?” he blustered, grabbing your half drunk mug with his own and heading for a refill.

“Well, there’s the rub right there” you agreed, trying to remember all the sections of your home town’s now non-existent library. You thought maybe religion was in the 200’s somewhere… “In Raskolnikov, I mean our buddy Rascal, you see a victim mentality, his own inadequacies and self-sabotage, displaced blame…He’s a big old pot of stew, brewing just below the surface. And then, there’s Plato.”

“Not the friend, right? Talks too much” Joel complained, setting your coffee next to you on the shelf and turning the handle slightly towards you. The small gesture didn’t go unnoticed, as you sallied forth.

“No, not the friend. Like, Plato the philosopher. We don’t have any copies of “The Republic” do we?” you asked, thumbing through the woebegone copy of Curious George you’d stumbled upon.

“Don’t think the bookshop is ready for requests, teach” Joel observed, taking another large sip of his newly refreshed coffee.

“Yeah, I’m getting ahead of myself” you smirked, returning to your task. “Plato was the first philosopher to really start pondering the justice of society. What is considered good? And how do we assess the good of the many versus the needs of the individual?”.

Joel took a pregnant pause, waiting in anticipation for more which never followed. “Well, what’d he say about it?”

“I don’t know, we don’t have a copy of the ‘The Republic’, Miller. Get to work!” you teased, stuffing the copy of Curious George against his chest, which felt like a brick wall under your feathered touch. “Kids section” you decisively stated, looking into Joel’s immovable countenance with joviality. “Something a little easier than ‘Crime and Punishment’”.

“My readin’ level?” he sarcastically quipped, rolling his eyes and looking at the cover.

“Oh no, you’re a man of action around here, I can tell” you intoned, returning to your task at hand. “‘Crime and Punishment’ is written for individuals JUST like us. There’s theory and there’s action, and everything in between. But this old book from the 1800’s is just as relevant as it ever was”. Joel stood before you, resuming his characteristic reticence and gazing at you curiously. 

“I can see why Ellie likes ya” he finally stated, as though casting approval, before disappearing behind a nearby bookshelf to start the kid’s section. Smiling to yourself you winked at Rascal the cat who was purring nearby. Several hours transpired as you and Joel worked together silently, trading books for appropriate sections and slowly making your way through the bookshop and the dwindling pot of coffee. It was nearly noonday when you stood up to achingly stretch, wiping your hands together proudly with the confidence of a hard morning’s work.

“Alright Miller I’m taking off!” you began to shout, turning to find Joel standing a matter of inches away from you. You startled with surprise before crumpling with embarrassment amidst a flurry of anxious giggles. Clearing your throat, you side stepped his broad frame to grab your own copy of “Crime and Punishment” and satchel for the road.

“I mean, ya just got here…” Joel muttered, as Rascal appeared around the corner, attempting to stowaway in your belongings. “What’s the homework, teach?” he shrugged boyishly, casting a glance at his own copy of the classic.

“Let’s see, I think that gets us to the end of Part Two, let’s pick up at the end of Part Three…” you rationalized, kicking playfully at Rascal as it wrapped itself stubbornly around your jeans cuff.

“Alright, you’re bringin’ lunch next time” Joel huffed, returning to the front desk and resuming his recognizable constitution of vexation. Your mouth dropped open with incredulity at his authoritative assumption, before he called after your departing figure.

“Only fair, since I made breakfast” while his face didn’t register any shift in emotion, his voice held a thread of teasing, as you deftly attempted to dislodge Rascal from your ankle.

“You call that breakfast, Miller?!” you bantered, setting the cat atop the nearby quilt, to mewling protestations that were immediately doused by the wintry gale cascading in from the now open doorway. The bell chimed your begrudging departure as Joel looked up from the book directly. 

“See ya tomorrow, teach” he waved with two fingers, returning to his next reading assignment, as you braced yourself for the moderate walk home. Walking a fair pace down main street you hugged the copy of “Crime and Punishment” lovingly to your chest, smiling at the commune’s square come to life with laughing children and approving parents. Pausing for a moment to gaze behind, you could have sworn you saw Joel’s formidable figure standing in the bookshop foyer, looking in your direction, but it was almost immediately gone amidst the flurry of snow and town activity. See ya tomorrow, Miller, you jested, already planning your next passionate…discussion.

@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 @zaniasky @quicax3

@shaunasflannel @anelva @shinyanchorobject @flyingthroughtheave @anoverwhelmingdin 

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

Pedge's Tree + Xmas Card

Oh this is fun! Pedge and I have never done this before, so I wanted to get a quick start since I'm late in the season! Pedge and I are currently making cookies! Weeeee! Decorate my tree. I mean...if you want to. Like, if you have time. Pedge says I was being too bossy...but I think he secretly likes it...

Rec's for a Lonely Winter's Evening

Your Fave Things @jolapeno

What Could Go Wrong? @beefrobeefcal

Christmas Writing Challenge @bluestar22x

Let's Celebrate! @chronically-ghosted

Dead Dove December @romana-after-dark

The Cheeseboard @goodwithcheese

Reverie Goods and Gifts

hello, dear ❤️

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you 🧚🏼‍♀️

xoxo

ps. you’ve asked for something unconventional hope this is good enough to challenge you

This was so fun to incorporate in an ongoing series, and to do so in an unexpected way. Check out Pedge's Bookshop if you want the final result...

Pedge's Bookshop Prologue

Grab a Latte! lounge around in the foyer with this sweet fic "Coffee Shop Date" @mermaidgirl30 before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, implied PTSD/anxiety attack, accidental surprise attack, this series will feature MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment" so start readin' now!

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

The cold winter breeze stung the bitter rosebud of your cheeks as you folded your arms tightly against the bracing barrage. Another Christmas at the compound. It had been several years since your acceptance into the sterling community, and every initial interaction had been one of desperation and gratitude. You had enjoyed setting up the small school for teenagers and children, embracing the tenuous comfort and security of a fledgling society fighting for its life and every day had seemed like a small miracle. But with the passage of time and cessation of minute to minute survival risks, you paled at your recent discovery; life had become repetitive, and even dull.

Watching the happy children circling around the main street tree, couples laughing contentedly and home made gifts being passed from household to household, you were immensely thankful for every miraculous circumstance. But you couldn’t help but reflect on the adage that mankind was made for more than survival. The nuances of your solitary life had begun to weigh heavily upon you, and you wondered if anyone in the commune could understand the gaping hole that solitude brought, in a world that was already so isolated. Trudging down the epicenter of town you smiled politely as families passed you, waving at some of your students and finally stopping at the new storefront at the end of the thoroughfare. 

The shop had remained unoccupied for years, until you noticed a lone individual carrying boxes of lumber and tools every week for a month. It wasn’t someone you immediately recognized, but scuttlebutt around town said that Tommy’s brother had arrived with a passenger in tow. That wayfarer had turned out to be Ellie, one of your most artistic and insightful learners in the cornucopia of students that you advised once or twice a week, when patrols and other duties allowed. The only thing you knew about her apparent guardian, Joel, was that he wasn’t available for conference, and largely kept to himself in the eating area. No one had said much, but you weren’t oblivious to the sideway glances and general foreboding that seemed to emanate from his demeanor. This was a man not to be trifled with, and he couldn’t seem to care less about any of the things that mattered so much to you. His whole being seemed to scream, “stay away”, so you did. Ellie was more than capable of handling herself, and truthfully you couldn’t blame him. In a world that was collapsing in on itself, survival was the only truly connective tissue. Everything else seemed like a luxury.

Stopping in front of the wide-paned windows, your jaw dropped slightly at the unexpected sight; books. Scores and scores of BOOKS! With the inaccessibility of technology, tablets were a thing of the past, and it had been countless years since you had set foot in a library of any kind. WHERE did all these books come from? Tentatively pausing at the door stop, you shook the smattering of snow from your head and shoulders and entered the warmth of the bookshop, accompanied by the small chime of a bell.

Letting the door shut behind you, you gazed wondrously at the craftsmanship of the front desk which was littered with empty mugs and assorted papers. There were shelves full of mismatched books, magazines and papers and a beautiful staircase leading up to a sparse upper level that held chairs, pillows and quilts. Breathing deeply you smelled the telltale fragrance of the written word, your eyes welling up with emotion. The Barnes and Nobles of the post-apocalyptic world had come to fruition here in the Jackson Commune, and you apparently had Joel Miller to thank for it. As if that weren’t idyllic enough, a small, beleaguered looking orange tabby lazily trotted towards you encircling your ankles and rubbing up against your calves with affection. Another solo journeyman. “Well hello there!” you whispered, immediately enchanted with the fantastical sight that greeted you unexpectedly. Maybe you’d read Joel Miller wrong. Was this really a literary utopia of his making? 

Wandering down the center aisle you were immediately intrigued by the myriad of material available. As the town instructor, you could make good use of this new resource, but not in the current state of affairs. There was apparently no rhyme or reason to the organization of texts, as you thumbed through the selection haphazardly. Noticing a nearly ancient copy of Playboy propped up against “War and Peace” you smirked sardonically. Perfect for the sex education and history curriculum combo? Perhaps Joel could use some assistance…

Having a treasure trove like this at your disposal was going to be a tremendous asset, but it was definitely a diamond in the rough. Beggars can’t be choosers, and many of the books available were limping through their own existence, much like the residence of the Jackson Commune. Water damage, fire, moths…Some of the books seemed to be missing their covers, and entire sections of material were potentially lost for the ages. You pouted with dismay, reminiscing about the hours spent devouring the classics, poetry, and scientific discoveries—hoping to bring even a snippet of that educational power house to the children and teenagers in your care. 

Rounding the corner your breath hitched hesitantly in your throat as you noticed the back of the broad shouldered individual before you. Clad in a comfortable plaid shirt that hugged his body snugly you recognized the peppered locks of hair framing the back of his head. My literary benefactor, you pondered, approaching quietly with the tabby prancing by your feet. You cleared your throat timidly, reaching up to touch his shoulder delicately. 

Before a single word left your mouth the tall figure before you turned on their heel, dropping the book to the floor as the tabby skittered away in fright. A muscled forearm shoved you up against the bookshelf, pinning you down as a broad thigh locked between your legs in dominance. The breath completely left your body as sharp eyes seemed to penetrate your very soul—questioning your identity, your intentions, your presence…all furrowed under the passionate brows of the fire-like gaze that split the air like a knife. As though transformed by an unknown motivation, the dark eyes immediately softened, pulling back quickly as you dropped slightly forward to your knees, coughing with irritation.

“What’dya want?” Joel’s eyes were a penetrative mask of skepticism, but his tone was laced with the smallest tinge of penitence.

“Jesus, Joel!” you sputtered, rubbing at your neck tenderly and attempting to calm your pounding, adrenaline fueled heartbeat. “What the hell?” you choked, sliding down the bookshelf and plopping yourself down on the floor unceremoniously.

“Don’t hear so good anymore” Joel mumbled, dropping cautiously down on one knee and wincing with the effort. His expression was already shifting as he looked over your body with assessment, and….something else. “You hurt?” he questioned, scooping up the book with a large paw and placing his other heavy hand on your outstretched leg.

Shooing his hand away with annoyance you noticed the orange tabby peak its head out from behind the bookshelf inquisitively. “Is this how you greet all your customers, Miller?’ you spat out vehemently, pulling your knees up to your body defensively, more embarrassed at yourself than actually wounded.

“Shouldn’t sneak up on people like that” Joel offered, as though explaining his over-reaction to a satisfactory degree. “Look, uh…you’ll have to come back. We’re not quite ready for guests yet” he decided, as the cat lazily returned, bumping its head against Joel’s knee good naturedly.

“Goddam, will ya let me get up off the floor first?!” you retorted, swallowing dryly as your heartbeat settled into a more steady rhythm. Joel paused, swallowing hard and rubbing at the back of his neck dolefully.

“Srry, I shoulda put up the sign. Just gettin’ started…” he begrudgingly apologized, reaching out for your hand as he tiredly stood, now towering above you. “Let me help ya up”. You squinted skeptically at his hand as though waiting for a bomb to explode, as Joel stood resolutely, waiting for your acquiescence. “I’m Joel, by the way”.

“I know who you are Miller” you grunted, heaving yourself up and swatting his outstretched hand to the side. “Can you say the same about me?” Joel placed his hand defiantly on his hip, hiding the book slightly behind his back and looking at your appraisingly.

“School-teach” he gruffly answered sizing you up for the pocket change you were, compared to his lumbering figure. “Ellie likes you a lot” he proffered, potentially as a peace offering. The orange tabby slinked between you, unenthusiastically, in search of its next distraction. You bit your lower lip with reticence, surprised that Joel even knew who you were. Maybe you weren’t quite as isolated as you thought. 

“Missed you at parent…I mean, uh…teacher conference this last Fall. Too busy?” you tentatively accused, ignoring your growing curiosity of the book Joel was surreptitiously hiding behind his back.

Joel cleared his throat awkwardly, “Patrol has me pretty occupied. Well, that and procurin’ these books. Ellie’s got a thing for certain books…” he mused, starting to relax a bit in your presence now that the imagined danger was abating.

“Well thanks…uh…for your service. Ellie is a remarkable student, you must be doing something right there” you stated, matter-a-factly, suddenly becoming more awkward by the minute.

“S’no problem. I like reading’ too, when I have the time” a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth in a drawl and you nearly melted on the spot. You hadn’t seen THAT before. This man might be dangerous in more ways than one. The silence hung in the air like a steely icicle beginning to melt. He’s not so scary, you silently mused, watching Joel scan your face for micro expressions, as though encountering a wounded animal. Your defenses were lowering a bit as you quickly grabbed for the book he was hiding, finally gaining a temporary upper hand. 

Walking down the aisle with Joel trotting after you like the orange tabby, you observed, “Looks like you could use some help, Miller. Doesn’t seem like you know anything about the Dewey Decimal system” plopping yourself down on the pillowed, ornate wooden chair near the storefront window you continued to feign confidence. “Did you make this?” you suddenly blurted out, fingering the deep, polished mahogany wood and marveling at the craftsmanship. 

“S’no trouble” Joel grunted, a light reddish tinge gracing his cheeks and neck. Oh this man was going to be a problem, you realized, finally gazing down at the “secret” book Joel had been perusing.

“Crime and Punishment??” you balked, mouth agape in surprise, “THIS is what you’ve selected for some light reading?” you scoffed, fingering the pages delicately and gazing at Joel anew. Who WAS Joel Miller?

“Uh…I’m only into the first few chapters” Joel deflected, stuffing his hands tightly in his jean pockets as the tabby reappeared, jumping into your lap cozily. “There’s more important things than readin’ I guess” he cleared his throat, somewhat juxtaposed by his month-long labor of love. You scoffed inwardly, basking in the steadily purring rhythm of the cat’s hum and sitting back in the sturdy chair. 

“I don’t know, it seems like the real moments of survival make you more appreciative of what it means to be alive” you introspected. “What it means to be human…”. Joel guiltily looked around the room as though caught somehow in a hidden indulgence, but relaxed his posture watching you stroke the cat affectionately.

“Nice to have some quiet” Joel finally agreed, jaunting over to the front desk and clearing the space haphazardly. You leafed through the worn pages and frayed edges of the cover, harkening back in your memory to your first reading of the classic. 

“The names are a doozy” you joked, peaking over at Joel’s curious expression hovering behind the counter. “Svidrigailove, Raskolnifkov?…”.

“Don’t know that first fella” Joel confessed. “I just call the other guy “Rascal” and try to keep everybody straight in my head. Guess the world wasn’t so easy before the infected, anyways” he reflected, leaning against the empty bookshelf behind him. “Lots of poverty, hurtin’ people, questions. Governments that don’t know what they’re doing. People’ll do just about anything to get what they need” he nodded, as though convincing himself.

You cocked one eyebrow, skimming through the book and arriving at chapter six. “Have you…already experienced the…crime part of crime and punishment?” hesitant to give away important details but secretly desperate to enjoy a conversation with another adult.

“Yeah, just reached…uh, just reached the murder when you walked in. Mighta had me a little jumpy” he admitted, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing at his sternum, as he shifted in place. You pursed your lips thoughtfully, trying to judge his conflicted expression. Nothing about this world seemed very easy when fighting for your very survival.

“Maybe that Playboy is a little more up your alley?” you jested, attempting to change the subject, but Joel seemed lost in his own train of thought.

“Rascal’s got me hooked. I didn’t really think he’d do it. I mean…I know he was desperate, but it doesn’t make much sense.” Joel paused with a weightiness, his body sagging under the reality, “I guess dyin’ never does” he finished quickly, still lost in a world unknown to you, but steadily and magnetically pulling you in. Joel wasn’t bombastic, but his words held an enigmatic depth of feeling. You took an indulgent moment to really look at his bearing, studying his labrythine expression and admiring his broad stature. This man was built for survival, and just the type of individual the commune needed. You just hadn’t realized there was a beating heart and an inquisitive mind underneath all that…plaid. Resting your elbow on the armchair and propping your head against the palm of your hand you began to feel more optimistically purposeful than you had in a long time.

“I’m going to help you” you declared, rising to your feet as the tabby scampered away huffily.

“Don’t need any help” Joel observed, placing his hands definitively on the front desk, his lips a tight line of resistance.

“Okay, ‘Rascal’ I think we both know that’s not true” you tossed the book jovially in the air as Joel caught it anxiously, and drawing it to his chest like the rarity it was. “Do you usually place your copies of Playboy alongside ‘War and Peace’?” you joked, broadly gesturing with your hand to the developing book shop.

“Huh?” Joel quirked, suddenly turning a brighter shade of red and pulling the book behind him conspiratorially. “I don’t read that stuff…” he murmured, placing the book hurriedly under the counter as though afraid you might snatch it from his grasp once again.

“Oh maybe you should, Miller, I hear they have really good ‘articles’” you chided, as Joel froze in place before huffing out a relieved breath.

“Yeah, I’ll do that” he rolled his eyes adolescently, suddenly unsure of where to place his hands and finally settling on returning them to his hips. “What kind of help? You’re not expecting…uh…payment of some kind?’ he immediately interrogated, a thread of incredulity lacing his tone.

“Trust me, being around…here…is payment enough. It’s been ages since I talked about anything besides arithmetic and agriculture” you moped, silently wondering what other discoveries awaited your probing eyes, and you weren’t just curious about the literature. Maybe you can’t judge a book by its cover, you surmised, steadily becoming more and more intrigued with the plaid-snuggled figure before you. Call it good teacher research. Yeah, research, you reasoned, already planning your next curriculum expansion with the help of Joel’s library. A world of possibilities was stretching out before you, if Joel were amenable to the newfound friendship.

“I can’t pay you” Joel repeated stubbornly as the cat leapt onto the front desk, stretching itself languidly. 

“Do I look like I need a W-2 form, Miller? Hanging out with you is payment enough…” you let slip before biting down on your lower lip with embarrassment. Whoops. Cats out of the bag. Joel’s expression brightened for just a millisecond before shifting back to its original mask of stoicism. Sauntering around the front desk with purpose he poised in front of you, arms folded securely across his broad chest, before extending a decisive hand.

“You’ve got a deal” he waited, before you excitedly grasped his hand in agreement, your small fingers completely enveloped in his vice-like grip. Shaking one another’s hands for an extended period of time, the tabby meowed non-plussed as you nearly lost yourself in Joel’s steely stare. Breaking the silence you both took a step back, looking down at the ground awkwardly.

“What’s the c-cat’s name?” you stuttered, unsure of how to proceed next, as Joel turned around, poking the cat teasingly.  The orange tabby swatted a small paw at Joel’s larger one, wrapping itself around his wrist and biting at the flannel edges.

“Don’t know. Just call him ‘cat’ for now.” Joel grunted, tilting his head to the side. You didn’t really believe in love at first sight, but then again the books might be warping your perception of reality.

“Well, I’m thinking ‘Rascal’ is a good option if you’re taking votes” you suggested, stuffing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Noted” Joel smirked, holding your gaze pointedly until you felt your cheeks redden with the unexpected attention. 

“Alright, I’ll just go, but I’ll be back tomorrow to collect your homework assignment” you teased, stifling the desire to kick his foot playfully, and opting to turn on your heel to make a quick exit.

“Homework?” Joel’s voice echoed after you as you flung the door open to the bitter cold.

“Yeah, tell that ‘Rascal’ to get to work! I want to hear all about the murder and Dostoyevsky’s thematic approach to crime, self-punishment and the purpose of suffering!” you melodically announced as the sounds of mainstream wafted in to the otherwise silent bookstore. The orange tabby pranced towards the back room, seemingly offended by the winter bluster.

“Not sure cats know much about Dostoyevsky” Joel answered, leaning on the front desk and taking a quick glance at your receding figure.

“No worries. He might not know much about Dostoyevsky, but even a cat knows something about suffering” you chided, watching a flicker of darkness shade Joel’s countenance before it immediately disappeared. “Catch you tomorrow, Miller!” you bantered, closing the door behind you, and accompanied by the characteristic shop bell upon exit.

Bracing yourself against the onslaught of frigidity, you somehow felt inwardly warmed by the unexpected friendship, and curiosity of a new project. Perhaps this holiday season held more than just obligation or solitude. Against your better judgement you turned back to gaze at the storefront, seeing Joel’s silhouette, unchanged, leaning against the mahogany counter and looking fixedly in your direction. Damn. So much for nonchalance, you scoffed, secretly counting the minutes until your literary reunion and enjoying the satisfying crunch of collected snowfall beneath your booted feet.

Pedge's Fave 2024 Things A Year of 1sts

@jolapeno Started a lovely end of the year wrap on some of our artistic contributions, and I want to play too! I mentor other artists, but I still have a hard time showcasing myself. Sometimes the whole thing feels so juvenile (#selfjudgement). But I get so much out of the writing process, and one of the big things I've been learning lately is the enjoyment of Love, that comes without entitlement or possession. Just experience :) So here it is! My first writing year on Tumblr, some of the projects that healed me, and the writers who inspired them. Let's keep expressin'! Baby's first...

Get to Know Me! (started writing so many fics I had to organize!) Make Your Own Kind of Music (fanart for The Unbearable Weight...) Pike's Place (we really popped the cherry on this one...1st collab.. 1st series, 1st trope challenge, 1st Christmas, 1st trailer...final episode New Year's Day, thanks @inept-the-magnificent) @burntheedges Summer Camp (Pedro Scouts was the bomb. These were my first Tumblr activities and I learned a ton...) @goodwithcheese My Darling Muse (Dieter Bravo combines art and poetry with his personal assistant, J...sparks ensue ) temporary hiatus...D is in rehab...again Over-Protective Mom (Bitmoji Mood Board) Afterglow Series (intimacy w/ Pike, Javi, Pena...who's next?) Pedge's Jukebox (writing inspo. for other writers, short fics about Pedro characters + music) Blood Sucking Witch (getting dark w/ Max Phillips for Halloween...) Unmasked (Christmas Disaster! w/ Din Djarin) @beefrobeefcal Thanksgiving Delights (praise kink w/ hubby Marcus Moreno) Pedge's Bookshop (Last of Us Canon, Joel and J deconstruct "Crime and Punishment"...with smut lol) Dead Dove December (SH and ideation w/ Joel, mature) @romana-after-dark

Pedge approves :)

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