#do not correct me if it's not i couldn't take it

[lazysoulwriter]

drunk confessions - lewis hamilton.

requests are still open! check this out and send me something!

----

It’s nearly 2 a.m. when Lewis' phone starts buzzing on his nightstand. He groggily reaches for it, squinting at the screen.

You.

He exhales a quiet chuckle before answering. "Didn’t expect to hear from you at this hour," he teases, his voice deep and raspy from sleep.

"Lewisssss," you drag out his name dramatically. "You have to come get me."

He sits up immediately. "What’s wrong? Where are you?"

"I’m drunk," you announce, as if it’s the most serious emergency in the world. "Like, really drunk. Like… I think my shoes are talking to me. And I hate them."

Lewis bites his lip, suppressing a laugh. "Alright, where are you, trouble?"

You tell him the name of the bar, and without hesitation, he throws on a hoodie and grabs his keys. Casual or not, he’s not about to leave you stranded.

-

The moment you slide into the passenger seat, you sigh dramatically. "I knew you’d come," you say, slumping against the window.

"Course I did," he replies, glancing at you with amusement. "Couldn't leave you out here having existential crises with your shoes."

You frown, suddenly serious. "They deserved it. They were being mean."

Lewis laughs, shaking his head. "Alright, let’s get you home."

"Your home," you correct. "I wanna go to your place."

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. "Alright, my place it is."

You hum in approval, then after a beat of silence, you sigh dramatically again. "Lewis."

"Hmm?"

"You’re so… handsome," you say, reaching out to poke his arm like you’re testing if he’s real. "It’s honestly kinda rude."

He smirks. "I’ll be sure to apologize for that later."

-

Getting you inside is one thing. Getting you to sit still? Another challenge entirely. You’re overly affectionate, giggling every time he touches you, and dramatically melting into him when he tries to help you stay upright.

"You need to shower," he says, leading you toward the bathroom.

"I need to kiss you," you counter, poking his chest. "But someone is being difficult."

Lewis chuckles, steadying you by the shoulders. "Shower first, yeah?"

You pout but nod. "Fine. But you have to help me."

He sighs but obliges, turning on the water and carefully helping you out of your dress while keeping his eyes respectfully averted. Not that you make it easy.

"Are you blushing, Sir Lewis Hamilton?" you tease, poking his cheek.

"Behave," he warns, but the grin never leaves his face.

He helps you into the shower, staying outside to hand you shampoo and making sure you don’t accidentally faceplant. Once you’re clean, he wraps you up in one of his hoodies, helping you sit on the bathroom counter while he gently wipes off your makeup.

"You’re so sweet," you mumble, watching him through half-lidded eyes. "Like… disgustingly sweet. It’s unfair."

He smirks. "I’ll be sure to apologize for that, too."

Then, suddenly, you grab his wrist, your eyes wide. "Lewis, listen. This is important."

He raises an eyebrow. "I’m listening."

You take a deep breath. "I want to be your girlfriend."

He blinks. "You do, huh?"

"Yes," you say impatiently. "And I don’t care that you’re so much older than me. Like, whatever. Age is fake."

That makes him laugh—a deep, genuine laugh that shakes his shoulders. "Damn, that’s good to know."

You nod seriously. "I demand to be your girlfriend. Immediately."

Lewis grins, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. "We’ll talk about it in the morning, yeah?"

"Ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes. "Fine. But just so you know, I’m serious."

"I can tell," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

-

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth. Strong arms wrapped around you, the scent of Lewis’ cologne lingering in the sheets.

And then—oh God.

Memories of last night flood in all at once. The drunk call. The declarations. The demand to be his girlfriend.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep forever, he won’t bring it up.

"Morning, trouble," Lewis’ voice rumbles against your ear.

You hum, pretending to still be half-asleep. Maybe if you keep it cool, he won’t—

"So," he says, clearly amused. "You remember what you said last night?"

Damn it.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Unfortunately."

Lewis chuckles, gently prying your hands away. "Good. Because we’re officially dating now."

Your eyes snap open. "Wait—what?"

"You were very persuasive," he teases. "Didn’t think I had much of a choice."

You gape at him. "Lewis, you cannot let drunk me make important life decisions!"

"Why not? She was right." He smirks. "Besides, I think sober you agrees."

You open your mouth to argue, but… you don’t actually want to. Because, really, you do agree.

With a defeated sigh, you bury your face in his chest. "You are so annoying."

He grins, pressing a kiss to your hair. "Yeah, but I’m your annoying now."

----

[millers-girl]

what it takes

chapter 2 of willow & whiskey

a/n: thank you all so much for all the love the first chapter’s gotten 🫶🏼 ps: I ended up changing the title of the fic because I saw someone post another joel fic under a similar name and didn’t want any confusion :)

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: the trek to the state house begins... and ends in a way none of you expected.

warnings/tags: age gap, adult language, blood and violence, death

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

When Ellie woke the next morning, head lifting from where it had been nestled in your lap, she found you already awake.

Your back rested uncomfortably against the bookshelf behind you, posture stiff, but your expression was calm – watchful but not hostile. Your gun was within reach, resting on the ground beside you, yet your hands never reached for it.

Joel and Tess sat in front of you, a safe distance away, mirroring your posture. Tess seemed at least composed; Joel, on the other hand, was tense, his gaze fixed on Ellie.

Despite the clear unease in the room, you offered Ellie a small, reassuring smile as she stirred awake. Your fingers brushed through her hair – a light touch that spoke volumes and comforted Ellie beyond belief.

"Morning," Ellie greeted, voice dripping with sarcasm when she turned to the smugglers. The moment she moved to stand and use the restroom, Joel's gun was up.

Without hesitation, you moved too – not for your gun, but to shield Ellie with your body.

"Jesus," you cursed, lifting your hand up in exasperation. "You're one of those shoot first, ask questions later kinda guys, huh?" 

Joel's glare flickered to you, but his grip on the gun didn't waver. You sighed, reaching down and pushing your own gun further away in an act of reluctant trust. There, you seemed to say. A truce.

You knew he wouldn't shoot – he couldn't. Ellie had made it through the night and if he didn't believe she was immune, he had to at least believe she wasn't going to turn. Her body resisted the bite.

Still, he didn't lower his weapon.

"Wow," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. "You must be a hoot during a trust exercise." 

Ellie rolled her eyes, moving to your side to try another approach. "Do I look infected?" 

"Show us your arm," Joel said flatly.

Ellie huffed but did as asked, rolling her sleeve up to reveal the same bite – unchanged.

Tess leaned forward, her tone more curious then accusatory. "What was Marlene doing with an infected kid?"

"She's not infected," you corrected gently. "We went to her when Ellie was bitten. Marlene had her tested every day to see if she was getting sick."

"Test her how?"

Ellie groaned, shifting from foot to foot. "I have to pee."

"Test you how?" Tess pushed, turning to the girl.

"They'd make me count to 10 and hold out my hand and then keep it steady. But, you know, I think what really impressed them was the fact that I didn't turn into a fucking monster. Now, can I please?" She asked, turning to you.

You hesitated, casting a glance at Joel – who was still gripping his gun like he expected Ellie to morph into a Clicker mid-sentence.

Your lips pressed together, but you turned back to Ellie, eyes softening. "Go ahead." 

Joel didn't move, but his grip tightened.

You sighed dramatically, giving him a look that was more amused than combative. "So she survived the night, which is as much proof as there possibly could be, and you still don't believe, old man?" 

Joel scowled. "Old man?" 

"Hey, if the shoe fits." You smirked before stepping back to stand watch near Ellie.

Joel muttered something under his breath, but his gun finally lowered.

As you leaned against the doorway, listening to Tess and Joel whispering amongst themselves – they were much louder than they thought they were being.

You could tell Tess was starting to believe you; she mentioned Ellie making it through the night without turning. Joel, however, was less convinced, stating they should sneak Ellie back into the QZ and find a different way to get the battery.

Ellie was done and walking back into the room before they could come to an agreement. 

Then, the four of you sat down and ate what you assumed to be lunch, considering you'd all slept through breakfast after the long, grueling journey the night before.

Now, in this abandoned office building you were in, the air was damp, smelled like concrete and mildew. You perched yourself on top of a mossy spot, stomach already grumbling.

"You two can share some of ours," Tess offered, holding out a pitiful-looking ration of dry, stale food.

You winced at the sight. "Thanks. Marlene sent us with our own."

Tess and Joel gnawed at their jerky—tough, unappetizing, and depressingly dry—while you and Ellie tore into your sandwiches, inhaling them. The stark contrast was almost embarrassing.

"Is that chicken?" Tess asked, eyes widened in something bordering reverence.

Ellie nodded mid-chew. "Marlene said they get it from smugglers... Guess not you guys."

You snorted at that comment, nearly choking on your bite.

"Why are you so important to Marlene?"

Ellie hesitated to answer, giving you the space to. "There's a Firefly base camp somewhere out west with doctors. They're working on a cure."

Joel hummed, low and unimpressed. "Mhm. I've heard this before."

"Whatever happened to Ellie – "

" – is the key to finding the vaccine," Joel finished in a deadpan mimic, as if he'd heard it a million times. "That's what this is about? Vaccines, miracle cures – none of it works. Ever."

"Hey, fuck you, man," Ellie snapped, bristling at his cynicism. "I didn't ask for this!"

"You and me both," he mumbled before turning to Tess. "This isn't gonna work. We need to go back."

Tess exhaled, rubbing at her temple before leveling him with a look. "Let's just finish it. Even if she is or isn't what the Fireflies believe she is, we'll get what we want."

Joel hesitated, jaw locking as silence stretched between you all. Then, with a begrudging nod, he turned to you and relented, "If she so much as twitches..."

Right on cue, Ellie let out a gurgling snarl, snapping her teeth together to mimic an Infected.

Joel's glare cut to you, and you swatted Ellie's arm to get her to stop. "She'll behave," you promised. "Okay?" You glanced between them, gaze lingering on Joel, trying to smooth the tension in the air. 

"Okay," he huffed in surrender, going to gather his pack so you all could begin the day's trek. 

As he grabbed his gun off the floor, Ellie immediately piped up, "Can I have a gun?" 

"Absolutely not," Joel growled, at the same time as you offered a soft, "Maybe when you're older." 

Ellie huffed. "Okay, Jesus, fine. I'll just throw a fucking sandwich at them." 

After packing up, Joel led the way outside, holding the door open as you passed through. You glanced up at him, murmuring a quiet, "Thank you."

It was a simple thing, but it still surprised him. He hadn't heard someone be so polite in a long time. He didn't know what to do with it. So, he simply grunted in response but retaking his position at the head of the group, beside Tess. 

Ellie, walking beside you, turned her head to take in the ruined city, her expression shifting from wary to awestruck. For the first time, she was seeing downtown in the daylight, and the sheer scale of it had her stunned into silence.

Your heart swelled seeing her take it all in; she was utterly in awe. It was a welcomed, rare view and you took a mental picture of the sight before nudging her.

"Cool, huh?"

She nodded eagerly, jaw still practically on the floor, eyes flickering across shattered windows, rusted cars, and vines creeping up twenty-story buildings. It was the quietest you'd ever seen her, just soaking in all the beauty the world still had.

Tess eventually informed everyone that the route to the State House required passage through a hotel. On the long walk there, Ellie kept nudging Tess with questions – about Infected, the bombings in the city when the outbreak happened, whatever she saw. It was clear she was starting to warm up to her. The same could be said for Tess, who did her best to answer all of Ellie's inquiries.

That meant you got stuck walking beside Joel. 

"Your watch isn't the only thing that's broken," you commented absently, eyes glued to the pair walking ahead.

Joel made a low noise in his throat. "Hmm?"

You motioned to his side. "Your hand."

He subconsciously tucked the hand out of view. "Oh. Maybe a hairline," he muttered. "It'll heal fast."

"It'll heal wrong," you corrected. "I've got some compression wrappings and anti-inflammitories in my pack. You can use them when we stop."

He studied you for a beat before asking, "You used to be a doctor in the QZ?"

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it, but your smile faltered quickly. "No, I just... I just read a lot."

Joel hadn't known you for that long, but he could tell you were a shitty liar. Still, he made the decent decision not to press.

"What'd you do before the outbreak?" You asked quietly, shifting the topic.

"I was a contractor," Joel answered. "Used to build houses, stores." 

"Did you like it?" 

He shrugged. "Paid the bills." 

Your brows furrowed at that. "You didn't have a dream job? Like, I don't know – CEO? Musician? Dad?" 

His gaze snapped at you at that last one. Dad? 

You shrugged. "My mom used to say it was a full-time gig."

Joel didn’t respond. He just walked in silence for a few moments before pivoting to Ellie, telling her to drink some water, making sure she stayed hydrated.

Tess took notice of the interaction, finding the corners of her lips twitching up ever so slightly. It was nice to see someone who still believed in small kindnesses.

She cleared her throat, asking, "Hey, nobody's gonna be coming after you two, right? Like, Mom... Dad... Boyfriends?"

You shared a quick look with Ellie before answering for both of you. "No." Your eyes dropped to the ground as you added, "No one's coming." 

The words sat heavy in the air.

"Hotel" was a generous word to describe the building entered; "swamp" was far more accurate. 

The air was thick with dampness, and a pool of stagnant, murky water stretched out in the lobby, complete with lily pads, frogs, and the occasional floating scrap of debris.

The waist-deep water was vile, seeping into your jeans and shoes, turning everything a miserable mossy green.

Ten floors up, your group hit its first obstacle: a jammed door. The only way through was for someone to climb over the adjacent rubble and clear the blockage from the other side.

Tess volunteered, which left you, Joel, and Ellie alone in the hallway.

After a few moments of silence, Joel eyed Ellie’s switchblade tricks. "Nice knife. Where’d you learn to do that?"

"The circus," she deadpanned, causing you to nudge her side, silently telling her to knock it off. "Where are you from?" Ellie forced the question out, trying to make small talk.

"Texas," he answered. And the moment he said it, you let out a snort.

Of course he was from Texas. He may not have oozed Southern charm but his accent easily gave him away. That, and how naturally gentlemanly he was – always opening doors for you girls when it was safe, going through them first when it wasn't; lending a steadying hand when you had to climb over a particularly tricky hurdle. Practical. Protective.

His gaze was immediately fixed on you, lips parting to speak before Ellie beat him to it. 

"What about Tess?"

"Detroit... it's in Michigan."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "I go to school. I know where Detroit is." A moment of silence passed before she continued. "So, uh, you and Tess like a – "

Joel cut her off. "Pass."

She huffed, then tried again. "How'd you end up in Boston?"

"Pass. No more questions about me."

You cut in then, interrupting. "You got to ask her about the knife. She gets a question."

"She evaded mine," Joel shot back.

"Calls himself old, but his memory is sharp as a whistle," you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Kid, you were the one who called me old," he corrected, one brow lifting. 

You shrugged. "Like I said – sharp as a whistle." 

Ellie spoke again when silence blanketed over your group. "How long do Infected live?"

Joel was quick to quip. "Oh, I thought you went to school."

You chuckled, ruffling Ellie's hair while she shrugged. "I never said it was a good school."

Still, Joel answered. "Some last about a month or two. But there's others been walkin' around 'bout twenty years."

"Ever kill one?"

"Yeah, I killed lots of 'em," Joel answered.

"Was it hard? Like, knowing they were people once?"

Your gaze flickered up to Joel then, waiting for his answer. 

He simply offered Ellie a shrug and a, "Sometimes."

"What about that guy last night?"

Before Joel could even begin to form an answer, Tess suddenly appeared on the other side of the door, pulling it open for you all to pass through.

"Saved by the bell," you sang as you shuffled past Joel – who, of course, held the door open for you. Gentleman.

The hike from the hotel to the museum—your next stop—was short. What awaited you inside, however, felt like a lifetime.

Even in its decrepit state, you were surprised by how much of the museum still stood. Most exhibits were intact, their artifacts frozen behind glass displays, covered in years of dust. It was eerie—like a ghost of the past stubbornly clinging on through infinite layers of dust, refusing to be forgotten.

Turning a corner from the visitor center, you suddenly froze. "Oh, shit," you breathed, taking a sharp step back.

Joel was at your side in an instant, gun and flashlight raised. It took only a second to register the sight before you – what was left of a security guard, his body torn apart, limbs at unnatural angles, as if something had tried to pull him in different directions at once.

"What the fuck did that?" Ellie gasped from beside you, making you turn her face into your chest to block the gruesome view from her. She didn't need to be scarred like that.

Your head snapped to Tess as she softly spoke, "Maybe... maybe he was attacked outside and crawled through the doors. Door was open – could've been him... I don't hear anything." 

"Who would you hear?" Ellie asked, pulling her head away from your chest to meet Tess's eyes.

Joel's hand immediately shot out in warning – an unspoken command to be quiet. Tess had gone stiff beside him, eyes scanning, body tense. 

Your stomach tightened. "What – did an Infected do that?" you whispered, your own eyes widening.

Tess and Joel shared a look before Joel turned to you and Ellie, voice low but firm. "Okay, from this point forward, we are silent. Not quiet – silent." Ellie went to open her mouth to ask why but your arm wrapped around her, hand clasping over her mouth. "No questions. Just do it." 

Ellie opened her mouth to ask why, but you were already wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pressing a hand lightly over her lips. She looked up at you, brows furrowed, and you simply nodded before letting go.

The group moved carefully through the museum, Tess bringing up the rear, keeping you and Ellie sandwiched safely between her and Joel.

Then, just as you reached the top of the stairs, the entire structure beneath you gave way.

The deafening crash sent dust and debris flying, shoving you, Tess, and Ellie onto the floor. You barely had time to scramble up before Joel’s hand was on your waist, pulling you up, steadying you. Your eyes shot up to meet his, lips going to form a grateful smile, until a screech echoed through the halls.

Joel and Tess's guns were immediately trained towards the clicking of the Infected, while you began to slowly pull Ellie back further into the room, creating some distance. Tess followed, then Joel.

Then the Infected.

Just one. 

Coming into the room and forcing your group up against a glass exhibit. Its loud screeching filled the room, which was otherwise quiet, save for Ellie's heavy breathing.

You reached out, hand on her shoulder, grounding her – silently pleading with her to stop breathing so loud.

You're okay, you mouthed to her, nodding encouragingly. 

The Infected rounded the glass case, coming around to Joel's side, oblivious. The moment Ellie's eyes caught the Infected, closer than she'd ever seen one, her breathing hitched, loudly. 

The Infected instantly turned to her, screeching loudly. Joel began to shoot at it, shouting for you to run, and you didn’t hesitate – grabbing Ellie’s wrist, dragging her through the room as Tess fired behind you. You stumbled over a display stand, the impact sending you sprawling.

"Run!" you shouted to Ellie, yanking your gun up and firing, taking down one of them just in time. You bolted, rounding the corner, breath ragged.

Rounding another corner, you spotted the beam of Joel's flashlight before you saw him, pressed up against another cabinet, reloading his gun.

Upon noticing you, he motioned you to him, letting you take his place against the cabinet as he continued to refill the chamber of his gun.

As if on queue, you heard the Infected nearby, quietly clicking.Your fingers curled into Joel’s jacket without thinking, pulling him closer. His body was tense, his heartbeat a wild rhythm against your skin. You tilted your head up, catching his gaze in the dim light. He was already looking at you.

A silent moment.

Then, his hand found your waist, pulling you even closer—steadying you both.

Carefully, you pressed your half-loaded gun into his palm, exchanging weapons without a word.

In the dark, your hand found his, exchanging his gun for yours, which was at least half-loaded.

Then, he nudged his head towards the exit sign in the far corner, and you nodded your head, quietly following after him, one hand clutching his jacket so you would't lose him.

You two shuffled along the perimeter of the room, only freezing when Joel accidentally stepped on some broken glass, the noise loudly ringing in your ears.

In a flash, the Infected was on you two. It knocked you both onto the ground, screeching as its claws scraped against your jacket. Joel kicked it off, scrambling up, but you were faster—your gun already raised.

One shot to the head. It dropped.

You waited a moment, ears perked, listening for more Infected. Hearing nothing, your slumped forward, forehead resting between Joel's shoulder blades.

"Oh, my God," you mumbled against his jacket, trying to catch your breath.

"You alright?" He asked from in front, gun still pointed at the only entrance to the room.

You nodded against his back before leaning your head back. "You?" 

He nodded, leading you out of the room. You met Tess and Ellie by the exit, where all of you climbed out of a window. While Tess sat down to tend to a twisted ankle, you and Ellie made your way across a wooden beam connecting the museum to another rooftop. 

You two took in the view of the setting sun before you, reflecting on the shiny gold dome of the State House – it was beautiful.

"That was insane," Ellie began, letting out a shaky laugh.

You nodded your head, heart just now beginning to beat regularly in your chest. "Are you okay?" 

She nodded, showing you her arm. "Just a scratch. Least I didn't shit my pants." 

"Proud of you," you teased, tousling her hair. 

A silence passed before Ellie said, "That was scary, huh?" You nodded your head. "It was me breathing too loud that caused all that... right?" 

You shrugged. "Probably would've been me tripping over something if you gave it enough time. Or Joel grumbling about how musty it was in there." That made her laugh. "You were just unlucky this time... You'll get better with more experience."

Soon, Joel joined your duo, also taking in the view.

"Is it everything you hoped for?" He asked Ellie, watching her take it all in.

"Jury's still out," she replied. "But, man, you can't deny that view." 

Your smile matched hers as you wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her close to you. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head before Tess came over, ready to make the home stretch of your trek.

As you neared the State House, you reached for Ellie's hand, giving it a squeeze. 

"You okay?" You asked. "Bit quiet." 

She nodded, but her eyes betrayed her, flickering to the fresh scratch on her arm. "What if – "

You were already shaking your head, reassuring her. "You're good," you said softly, voice steady and sure.

"How do you know?" 

"Because I'm your big sister. And big sisters know everything." 

She managed a small smile then, gripping your hand tighter as you walked the rest of the way.

The Firefly truck was parked outside, right where Marlene said it would be – only, there weren't any Fireflies in sight... until you rounded the other side of the truck.

One body, already starting to decay.

And a trail of blood, leading inside.

Tess stormed ahead, motioning for you three to follow.

The scene inside wasn't any better. More bodies, more blood, more death.

"What the hell happened?" you murmured, instinctively pulling Ellie closer as you took in the destruction.

Joel surveyed the room with narrowed eyes. "One of 'em got bit." He gestured toward patient zero, whose twisted corpse lay slumped against the wall. "Turned the others. Healthy ones fought the sick ones. Everyone lost."

You went to speak but were cut off by Tess rummaging through the leftover supplies, looking for a radio. Coming up short, she turned to Ellie and snapped, "Where did Marlene say that she was taking you?" 

"Uh, I don't know. Just west." 

"Just west – okay, fuck. Well, I mean, one of them's gotta have a map on them, right?" 

She dropped to her knees, flipping through the pockets of a dead Firefly. Your stomach twisted at the sight, eyes flickering over to Joel to find some repreieve. 

"Tess," he began, voice sharp. "It's over. We are going home." 

"It's not my fucking home!" she snapped, turning to look at him.

You tensed, stepping in front of Ellie. There was something in Tess's voice – desperation. Like a string pulled so tight it was about to snap.

She exhaled sharply. "I'm staying... Our luck had to run out sooner or later." 

"Fuck," Ellie muttered under her breath, making both you and Joel turn to her. "She's infected." 

Tess scoffed, yanking down her collar to reveal the ugly bite blooming on her neck. "Oops, right?" 

Your stomach dropped.

She turned to Ellie, softly asking her to take her bandage off. She did so, and her scratch was starting to heal, the redness nearly gone now. "Look, Joel, this is real. She's fucking real... I need you to get her to Bill and Frank's. They'll take the girls off your hands. They'll handle it from there."

Joel was already shaking his head. "No, no, no. I can't. They won't take 'em."

"They will," Tess insisted. "You'll convince them. And if you can't, she will." She turned to you, and your throat went dry. "She's sweet and good and kind. Frank will see that. I mean, you saw how he welcomed us; he'll roll the red carpet out for her." 

Neither you nor Joel could bring yourselves to speak. 

Tess turned back to Joel, voice trembling now. "I never ask you for anything... Not to feel the way I felt, not – " She stopped herself, inhaling sharply. "This is your chance. You get them there, you keep Ellie alive, and you set everything right. All the shit we did." She swallowed hard. "Please say yes, Joel. Please." 

Before he could respond, a rasping sound from behind made you snap around.

One of the Infected—half-crushed beneath another body—was waking, reaching blindly for Ellie.

You didn’t hesitate. You drew your gun and fired, but in doing so, the Infected's hand came to rest on a patch of cordyceps. Fuck.

As Tess had said, it grew underground, stretching long distances. And now that you had triggered It, you may have woken a dozen Infected from somewhere else. Now they knew where you were; they were coming.

Joel darted to the door, peeking outside to see a swarm of them running toward the State House.

"They're comin'," he said, rushing back over. "Maybe a minute." 

 Tess didn't waste a second. She pushing over a stack of barrels, oil spilling across the floor, then scattered grenades into the mess.

You watched silently as she did so, eyes filling with tears, throat burning as realization sank In.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, voice small.

"Making sure they don't follow you." 

Tess stepped closer to Joel, whispering something to him. Whatever it was, it made his face go blank, his eyes darkening with something heavy. And then, before Ellie could react, Joel grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the exit.

"We're not leaving her! Get off me!" She wailed, thrashing in his grip.

Joel barely glanced at you—just a brief flicker of his eyes, checking that you were following.

But you weren’t moving. Not yet.

You turned to Tess. She was already reaching for her lighter, hands steady.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile. Just the ghost of one.

Then you turned to follow after Joel. 

You barely made it a few yards before the explosion ripped through the air, a fireball swallowing the entrance to the State House. The force of it shook the ground, heat pulsing at your back.

Tess was gone.

Your group immediately felt smaller without her.

The weight of it settled heavy in your chest, pressing down, making it hard to breathe.

This was going to be the price of getting out west – you either made it or paid with your lives. Suddenly, the stakes seemed much higher than you'd ever anticipated. And, all you wanted to do was run back to your scrappy little QZ apartment and huddle under the covers until the storm passed.

Instead, you kept walking.

Because Ellie was still holding your hand.

And you weren’t letting go.

Not now. Not ever.

.

.

.

taglist: @orcasoul @lizlil @littleshadow17 @joeldjarin @mrsyixingunicorn10 @luvwanda @escaping-reality8

[inkuinky]

SOLANGELO HC(s)

okay another hc, because the devil couldn't reach me so he gave me the thousand of ideas and give me the heavy writerblock and take away my ability to write a proper writing - 1 eversince he was little, Will often see Naomi take skincare and she offered him too (yknow the cetaphil moist for kids and allat) and entering the Camp Half-Blood, the puberty hits and all,, he starts to take care of himself starting from moist and all, he even sometimes feel insecure with his freckles and stubborn hyperpigmentation marks ( well I guess, despite the apollo kids' charm, hyperpigmentation is a bitch ) while Nico Di Angelo, despite his journey, has a smooth olive skin he is and has no marks whatsoever. and I can imagine Will freaking out hearing Nico never know what's moisturizer even are Will : What do you MEAN you don't know what these are? Nico: I just knew this??? how do you do this, Will? Will : but your skin is- your face is- WHAT???? (someone please correct me how this work, I'm open for discussion hmu!!!!)

2 coming from the first headcanon, Nico often come into Apollo cabin in their facemask routine, or even their gossip-y night routine. at first, it was cute just being among Will, Kayla and Austin's colorful faces (Will using niacinamide, Kayla using Hyaluronic Acid and Austin using Vitamin C, TRUST) and then Will came at him, asking him to facemask together with him and with that beautiful, clear blue eyes looking at him, hopeful, who could say no to him? Nico? as if so Nico stuck, and pretending like he doesn't like it and it's sticky and weird and all (he likes it, it smell like peach and nice strawberry, but he would never say that) and without him realizing,,,, Kayla painted his nails black he loves it though, adores it even. his fingers with black nails tracing Will's honey skin with freckles? yeah but he would never say that

tell me what do you think!!!!1 im open for discussion,, hmu ANYtime ahhaaaa <33 these two is the end of me

[storkmuffin]

Yeosang and Beautiful People Problems

I had to take a screenshot while watching youtube shorts. The two dude youtubers below are having the correct reaction to looking at Yeosan'g's face. The options are: (a) stunned euphoria and the other one is (b) hysteria caused by vertigo.

But watching them react this way made me realize, that the only time I've really truly appreciated Yeosang's dancing was when I couldn't see his face.

Because when I can see his face, that's all I'm looking at. Seriously, look at these and tell me you know what he did with his body.

these gifs aren't mine by the way. The director for this music video can't resist Yeosang's face either. They're all doing slinky things with their hips, which I would think you want to show as the director of a music video that features a lot of choreography, but he's like no, let me step closer to The Face.

I know I'm not the only one, so I am putting up a faceless Yeosang dance post, for us all. Because Yeosang apparently also knows this, that his face is an obstacle that his dancing can't actually overcome. At least, not yet.

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

So when I was in college, I initially began with my lifelong dream to become an artist. I was in fine arts, trying to get a degree, with 15 credits my 1st semester of almost entirely art courses, save a single college introduction class I was required to complete.

And yet I lasted 1 semester before switching majors.

It was one professor in particular who completely burned me the fuck out by being a relentless motherfucking piece of shit. I'd actually written to the dean half way through that semester about the professor, and he was never seen again at the college after said semester ended. Whether he was fired or left, I'm not sure.

But nobody liked this man.

Said professor on the very first day saw a student who bought the correct size sketch pad but the slightly wrong type (it was an incorrect paper weight), and he straight up flipped the pages lazily and, in front of the entire class, loudly declared, "You will never get an A in my class." Not once, not twice, but three times he said this in the span of one minute to the girl.

He told students repeatedly throughout the semester that they would never make it as artists.

However, it was obvious that I was his primary target.

No matter how incredible and accurate my works were, even when other professors I had repeatedly and deeply commended me for the things I drew or modeled or crafted, this one professor continuously told me, more than anyone else, that I was a terrible artist. Word for word he said, "You are a terrible artist." Or alternatively, after every class, he'd see my assigned drawing and inevitably say to me, "Your drawing is terrible."

At one point, everyone in the class sat in an arc and did the exact same drawing of shaded rectangular objects in a still life from different angles, and at the end, each student put their works on display in the fine arts building so it was the first thing anyone saw when entering. A huge honor!!

But the professor saw mine, no different from anyone else's, and said, "This is unacceptable. It's all wrong. You cannot hang this up." And he made me redo the piece overall to even consider it for a grade, then still never let me hang it because, somehow, it was still unacceptable.

Not a single artwork I completed in his course received above a C+ grade.

And at the end of the semester, my professor told me word for word, "You have no business being an artist. Why are you taking art classes?"

I looked at him and replied with something to the effect of, "I was going to be an artist, but I don't want to anymore because of you." I then took my fucking sketchbook and walked out without another word.

I switched majors after this.

My spirit was broken. For years I did not draw at all. I hardly made any art whatsoever for a good 6 years, in truth. I used to come home and draw every single day for over a decade!!! I took my sketchbook to the beach and drew on the beach!! I took it with me when I went traveling with my family to any place at all!! My middle and high school teachers knew me for my art, and I even entered into competitions sometimes, and had pieces I'd drawn put in college galleries on several occasions!!! I literally sat there making art every single day religiously!!!! It was all I ever did growing up!!!

And yet for 6 years it actually mentally hurt me like a knife ripping a fissure in my brain if I even so much as lifted a pencil or tablet pen. I couldn't even begin to fathom drawing anything. Ever. Not to any extent.

My professor had told me so many cruel things, said such terrible stuff about my skills and ability as an artist.

So why would I want to make art after all that??

What reason did I have to be an artist when I was so awful at art as a whole???

And I genuinely believed this for so many years. I dreaded art, I'll even admit I feared it!

But all the same... I missed it terribly. I'd do small things here and there, minor pixel sprites for like an RPG Maker character, but nothing akin to the full cityscapes I'd draw, or the large 4ft x 2ft fantasy still life pieces, let alone realism portraits. And truthfully, I was lucky to so much as complete the very rough sketch layout of anything at all. I actually fully completed maybe 4 things from start to finish in that time frame of 6 years.

I'd gone from hundreds of pieces per year to 4 pieces in 6 years.

It felt like a failure of all that I stood for, and everything I was and worked to achieve my entire life.

Yet the yearning for art, the freedom of creation, it never eluded me regardless of what I tried to do. It felt like a desperate, innocent soul bound in chains and tortured endlessly without a way to be free from his binds unless he could make art once more.

And finally, early last year, I said fuck it.

I could be the world's worst artist, and still make art. It didn't have to be good or acceptable to anybody, myself included, in order for it to be worthy of being called art.

I didn't have to be incredible at art to be deemed worth of the title of artist.

So long as I made things, entirely regardless of what anyone said about them, I was free. Neither approval nor disapproval had any right to determine my validity or my permission to create in any capacity.

Last year, I picked up art again. Not entirely drawing, but instead other forms. 3D models of my characters put in custom scenery photoshopped and edited by myself. Pixel drawings done by keyboard and mouse. Physical pixel pieces with Perler beads melted together. Sewing plushies and various blankets both by hand and machine.

I wanted to liberate myself from the shackles of judgment and stop equating the approval of my art to the right to make art at all.

And it was a fucking grueling, long 6 years. Truly, it was fucking hard.

Yet I did it because not a damn soul has the right to tell me I can't. Not even myself. I'm not going to let others bar me from creativity anymore.

These 3 pieces are pixel drawings I did in the last year. Fully and entirely digital pixel art done by hand.

These are 2 physical pixel pieces I have done in the last year. That 1st one used over 12,000 beads placed by hand.

Those are 2 Photoshop pieces I made using various assets I edited by hand to fit the overall scene.

And these two pieces I made in Photoshop just this week with various assets, as well as my own modeled characters. I had them professionally printed, then put them in frames, and I'm proud to say that both will be on display at a local queer center for their transgender art show on Transgender Day of Visibility next Friday. :)

I've hauled ASS to make this happen. The countless late nights I've spent just creating until I lost track of time are... astounding. There were times I buried myself in creativity so much that I would start at 8pm and suddenly it was 5am and I had no idea of which day. I have to begin physical therapy because I've aggravated an old injury by doing so much art lately.

But you know what?

It brings me immense joy to make the things I do.

I could have the whole world up my ass yelling and screaming from the mountaintops that my art is shit and I'm terrible at what I do, and I wouldn't give a goddamn fuck about it. I'll sit in my little corner making the things I do, having fun, and enjoying myself.

Because approval has no bearing on my right to create anything.

So let this show anyone, no matter who you are or what you feel about your skill, that you're allowed to create regardless of opinions and approval. The fact that you make anything at all is incredible, and you yourself are doing amazing just for the mere fact that you're creating art of any sort.

Don't stop making art. Even if the world is against you, keep making it. Even if everyone says it's terrible, keep making stuff. Even if the top of the top tells you you'll never make it, tell yourself it doesn't matter, and keep creating art.

Because your freedom to create is more important than the approval of what you create.

The freedom of creativity is more important than your level of skill at creating what you do.

Terrible art is better than no art. And truly you'll find the more you make, the less you'll feel bad about what you make because the joy of creating outshines the fear of doubt.

Fuck the haters. You are worthy of creativity regardless.

[tarotphil]

[alexakakarumi]

Get the wormies!!!! Now!!!! Get them!!!!!

[tarraxahum]

This was gonna be a reply to a reply but I thought maybe I should just make my own post. Yes this is about Vi again.

It's no secret that "Vi should've fought for Zaun" and the expectation of her being Vander's prodigy and feeling like the plot dropped the ball on her in that regard and the betrayal at the fact that she's living comfortably in Piltover now are. Frequent sentiments in the fandom. Which I get, but also I feel that this line of expectations is. Diverging from who Vi actually is by the end and what she was realistically capable of.

Vi in season 2 is basically running on fumes and because she has no other options. It is a well known thing in irl activist spaces that to participate in any kind of fight for justice you need to take care of yourself, otherwise you won't have the energy to be any kind of useful to your community. Ekko also says this - "It's not enough to give people what they need to survive, you have to give them what they need to live". Vi has been surviving and not living in any shape or form for years, she's exhausted and broken in places. That's no mental state to fight for Zaun or make any kinda change. I think it's extremely realistic and human and hardly a flaw of writing or the character if by the end the only thing she was able to do was collapse into the safety and peace she was offered for the first time in forever (aka Caitlyn). It's clear that in her last scene she's still recovering mentally - Cait seems to be excited to have any sign of life (singing) from her at all, and the "Are you still in this fight?" question is very loaded. (But it's indicated that Vi is very much still in the fight, so? It's really anyone's guess what she'll do once she's healed and remembers how to live. And don't bring up LoL's Vi brutality thing, it's clear they're different characters).

I think in wanting to see Vi stand up for Zaun or be Vander's prodigy we often deny her the flaw of being a breakable human and forget just how much she's held together by duct tape. Just because she was full of this 'fuck Piltover' fire as a kid doesn't mean she is still capable of matching that energy. Sometimes after lots of trauma humans grow up into tired adults who just want to sit down and feel safe regardless of where it happens and how questionable it might look (re: living in Piltover). Not to mention, that even as a child Vi's main reason for fuming at the Topside was wanting safety for her family and herself. Well, now she's all out of family, she's estranged from the community of Zaun thanks to being in prison for 7 years and Silco changing the place so much, and the only person who's offering her safety and not more fighting (which she's exhausted and thoroughly burnt out from!) is Caitlyn, so. How is where she ended up any kind of surprising or a failure of her writing/character?

Yes, a lot of people wanted a revolutionary, no, Vi isn't one. Dare I say, never really was one. At her lowest, when she's got no one left to protect, she's not trying to fill in that void by taking on protecting Zaun and becoming a vigilante or something, no, she spirals. That is not something on her radar, that's not something she's visibly cut out to do, she cares so so much but on a smaller scale. Even the whole shimmer factory debacle was less about Zaun and more about her desire to hurt Silco personally for what he'd done to her family. If Jinx agreed to run away with her back at the tea party Vi would ditch the entirety of Zaun (potentially leaving it to Silco forever since he's still alive at that point) in a heartbeat to keep her sister and save Cait in one move. She puts on an enforcer uniform BECAUSE she cares for Jinx (through convincing herself that at the very least she should take her out of her misery herself rather than leaving it to people who don't care, yes) and Cait both.

Perhaps a hot take, but not becoming a leader despite being good at taking hits to the head and caring about people in general and being a daughter of one does not make Vi a badly written character or a bad person. It just makes her a person. And a character whose arc culminated in choosing herself. And choosing yourself sometimes means leaving the fight to others (perhaps temporarily, considering the final dialogue). And that's okay.

Arcane is tragedy about flawed people, not a feel-good story about a successful revolution and rich people paying for their crap, and it was never going to be. Ergo one of our main character isn't an upcoming hero in shining armor who was allegedly robbed of her potential. She's just a broken young woman who barely knows how to keep her own little life together and her biggest victory by the end is allowing herself to take a breath and live for once. Yes, while her home down there is still in shambles. Yes, that sounds selfish. For some people a bit of selfishness is the greatest thing they can ever learn for themselves.

[hero-of-the-wolf]

listen hear me out—

what if eow takes place after the original loz?

[gideonisms]

First performance review at work including hits like "you can do multiple tasks," "I haven't heard anything bad about you," and "when you came to me about your issue with C taking over your work, she was just trying to help"

[fireheartwraith]

Red winning a second day in a row proves that they've made a comeback from day 1 and that day 2 wasn't fluke, so I hope green goes after blood 🩷

[february-academia]

28.04.2023

So much happened this week. (In tags I'll rant about it)

N4 is coming and my prep is not at all good. Took a test today and i failed🥲. But i know my prep is soo bad,it was bound to happen. So have to study for that.

College exams are coming🥹 also have to study for that. The dissertation proposal is in the finalising stage,so that's good. But have to work on it properly imo.

Then i also proposed another research study to my professor and he has encouraged me to go for it. So,also have to work on it.

These very cutu plants in the scorching heat were a treat to eyes and mind.

Got this book from the library and I'm really enjoying reading the essays.

( correction in a tag- she scored less than me in class and she was all sad sad. With her i had to suppress my happiness at moments like these)

[trans-leek-cookie]

as a certified Aromantic Asexual (I should make myself a certificate) I genuinely don't Believe there is systemic oppression that specifically targets Aromantic or Asexual people.

I do however believe that people Cannot be normal about ppl who don't have sex or romantic relationships, and that can Really Impact Aromantic And Asexual People.

Also like. Aros n aces are still. Experiences Other forms of oppression that can interact with the aro and/or ace-ness

[starphobe]

fh fandom back to wishing death on a fictional teenager for being mentally ill and not learning how to cope with that in a healthy way. what else is new

[lluu50]

I'm looking at baby pics of myself instead of sleeping and like, I was 3 days old in my first pic with earrings, 8 months old with glasses, and three days after the glasses pic (if the timestamps are right) introduced to the pool

also very interesting for me to see that 3 months into being alive one of my eyes start turning in, and by the time I started wearing glasses it was like this

ID: Simple drawing of two eyes, the one to the left is looking at the camera and the other inwards, so that only about a quarter of the pupils is showing. End ID