#gotta do everything myself around here...

[flamewarrior11]

I was summoned to the chamber of the Supreme god, I was intrigued as to why they would summon me, I figured I would understand when I got there. Upon arriving at the massive door I adjusted my outfit, despite being a god of fire, born since the beginning of my powers, I adopted outfits similar to humans, much like the other gods and goddesses in the realm, this time it was a simple dark red suit.

I entered the chamber, it was a massive room of space, the state shone brightly as I walked on a semi clear platform approaching the center of the room, there I saw the Supreme God, a being larger than all the others. Their body changing and shifting, it shines brightly as they were made up of the very stars and space they created. “Ah welcome Pyros it is good to see you” Supreme said, their voice sounding of multiple different people from earth. “The honor is mine oh Supreme God, I must ask however, why have I been summoned?” I asked, bowing before them.

“This child here” Supreme God said waving their hand as before me a young child appeared, they were small, roughly the size of a human child, they wore a grayish black dress, their hair was a bright red and yellow, much like my own. “And they are?” I asked. “A new God, born from man’s work, in a similar way to you” Supreme God said, i looked at the little girl, she was scared, and confused. “I would like you to raise them.” Supreme Then said. “Why me?” I asked. “You both have much in common, for she is the goddess of Explosions.” Supreme said. Suddenly I found myself outside their chamber, the child goddess next to me.

“So your the goddess of explosions eh? I’m Pyros, God of Flames” I said kneeling down to the kid. “I-I didn’t mean to” she said, sniffling, they sounding like small pops and crackles. “Didn’t mean to do what?” I asked. “Hurt the humans. They made explosions, and me a-and used me to hurt eachother. I-I don’t wanna be mean” she said. “Ah. I see.” I said.

It then clicked in my head why Supreme wanted me to raise the kid. We were similar in a sense. Man found fire and used it to warm themselves but eventually they used my gift to destroy and harm themselves. “Come with me” I said standing up and offering her my hand. “B-But won’t I explode?” She asked nervously looking at it. “Don’t worry kid, you’ll be fine” I said, giving her a reassuring smile. She then placed her tiny hand in mine. I held her hand softly, yet firmly as I began to lead her down the long corridors, showing her around the domain of the gods.

"See you are are rare occurrence kid, not many gods or goddesses born from the creations of mankind. Some do adopt human interpretations, like electricity, lightings been around ever since the planet earth, but they adapted how humans utilize the stuff." I explained as we arrived at a window, looking down on earth.

"But isnt electricity useful? I just destroy things" the small goddess said. "Yes, as do I, but that doesn't make us evil, none of the gods, goddesses and deities here are inherently good or evil. we all have a role to play, look" I said tapping the window, suddenly it zoomed in on the earth, showing a war, as multiple explosions were seen. I saw this scared the kid. "Some roles bad, but other roles are good" I said swiping the window as we now saw a building being destroyed via explosions.

"See they blew that old building up because it was damaged and could've hurt humans, but with careful explosions they were able to destroy it so a new one could be built' I explained. "So, not all explosions are bad?" She asked. "Nope, heck Supreme made an explosion to create everything around us, I'm honestly surprised you weren't here since the beginning, but hey you are here now" I smirked.

"But, can i make it so the humans done use explosions for bad stuff?" The young goddess asked. "No, but you can guide them to find the more enjoyable parts of the explosions. You gotta take the bad with the good, that's life, not just for humans but for us, just know to always look on the bright side." I then said showing the young goddess what humans call a fireworks display. Her eyes lit up in amazement. I smiled, seeing her timidness go away as she was in awe of what she can do.

I soon began to show her around the domain, various places and some of the others. I told her everything i could about the domain of the gods. "Since Supreme asked me to watch you and mentor you, you will be staying with me, is that okay kid?" I asked her. "Uh Sure thing Mr Pyros" She replied. "Just Pyros is fine" I said before realizing something.

"Thinking about it, you are gonna need a name" I said, carrying the little one on my shoulders. "What do you mean Pyros?" She asked. "Well that, see I have a name the others call me, Pyros, but in some religions I am Nyambe, Ra, Ogun, Zhurong, Helios and many more, every fire god and deity in human religion, I am them, to the humans." I explained. "Do humans have an explosion goddess?" The young one asked. "Not that I am aware of, don't worry I'm sure you can get a name or two from them, but for now how about Powder?" I suggested.

"Why powder?" she asked. "Like gun powder, the first explosion man made." I explained. "Oh, how do you know that?" She asked

I gave her a hearty chuckle. "I'm the god of flames, I was pretty much there when they first tested gunpowder, that's why Supreme wants me to teach ya, heck if ya think about it, you are kinda like a daughter to me, or something, I dunno if it works that way" "Hm, okie! I am Powder goddess of Explosions!" She cried out triumphantly. I smirked and began to take her to my home. "Hm hey Pyros Can I change my outfit?" Powder asked. "Of course, our forms are simply based off of how we imagine ourselves, if that makes sense, watch" I said placing Powder down. My suit soon became fire as it turned into a red leather jacket and jeans. "Ooooh! Lemme try!" She said focusing, suddenly she exploded.

"POWDER!" I yelled out as the smoke cleared she stood there unharmed, her one greyish black dress was now a dark blue with bursts of color on it, her hair done up in a pony tail looking like the wick of a firework as a hairclip that looked like a cartoonish bomb was seen. She also had the biggest grin on her face. Soon we both laughed as i ruffled her hair chuckling "Do not do that again ya little firecracker" I smirked. "heheh no promises" She said giving a giggle that a human would call a gremlin laugh. I could tell, things will be interesting having her around. "So the bomb hair clip?" I asked. "Well, you said I should accept the bad of my powers too, I kinda figured this would be a good step" She said. "Good thinkin kiddo" I smirked

We continued our way to home, and I knew this would be the start of a good mentorship.

"Oh! Probably should mention my wife huh" "whos your wife Pyros?"

As the God of Fire, the Supreme God has tasked you to supervise and educate a newly manifested Goddess. You find a sad, terrified, and confused child, fearful of her powers and the destruction it caused the mortal realm. You are to guide a being born from Man's work, The Goddess of Explosions.

[naivety]

scott mccall; nature & nurture.

[charmac]

Danny did a little interview for AARP Magazine in December. I haven't seen it copied anywhere past the paywall and I enjoyed reading it, so wanted to repost here

(Article is pasted as text below the cut)

Noisemaker I was born in Asbury Park, New Jersey. I was the baby, my sister Theresa was 10 years older, my sister Angie was 16 years older, my mom had two sisters, and none of them shut up, ever. It’s an Italian family, so the decibel level is out there. A little smart aleck I went to Our Lady of Mount Carmel School, because if your mother and father didn’t know what to do with you, they gave you to the nuns. … and still a smart aleck I remember when Peter, my nephew, was born. I was 7 years old, and I went over and looked into the bassinet, and the first thing he did was pee on me. It was great! I don’t think there’s a conversation I’ve had with the guy over all these years where I don’t bring up the fact that he peed on me. Also an old softie Do anything you can to keep on an even keel with your family and friends, no matter what happens in your life. That’s all we have. Don’t hide things. You’ve got to get up every day thinking about how you’re going to make it easier for the people that you’re working with or that you love or that you eat breakfast with. Because it’s infectious; everybody starts feeling good. Falling into the business Growing up, I’d spend the weekends at the movies, but I actually wasn’t even thinking about doing it. I got introduced to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in a roundabout way, took a couple classes, and I got the bug. And I thought, I’m not like Cary Grant, but I got a feel for this thing. So I studied, and then I went and started looking for jobs in New York, like every other actor does. I didn’t care what the description was—“male, 6 foot 4, 250 pounds”—I’d go out for the audition. Once I got in the room, I’m going to do what I’m going to do. Becoming Louie I wanted that part, Louie DePalma [in Taxi]. I walked into the room to audition in front of the four guys who created it, and I said, “One thing I want to know before we start. Who wrote this shit?” And I threw the script on the table. And I had a nanosecond of, did I screw everything up? Then they fell on the floor. Louie walked into their lives. Sudden fame I went to the market the day after the first episode aired, and people are stopping me on the street: “Hey, Louie!” They weren’t calling me Danny. After a couple of days of this, I called my publicist, and said, “This is really crazy. People are chasing me down the street.” He says, “Danny, you don’t have to worry until that stops happening.” Now it’s all, “Frank, Frank, Frank!” because of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, which is good. The fans are all you have. Still evolving I think I’m bolder than I’ve ever been—I don’t monitor myself as much. I do say things that are, like, pretty far out, that are really weird, and sometimes I’m inappropriate. But I am always respectful, and that’s because of my two sisters, I swear to God. You have to respect other people’s space.

My happy place Since my two grandbabies have been born, I am just in- corrigible. You gotta tamp me down in the joy department, you know what I’m saying? I’m just so lucky. Blessings have been showered down on me. I wish that for everybody.And the thing is to be aware of it. Don’t let it go. Rhea [Perlman, DeVito’s wife, from whom he is separated but with whom he still spends a lot of time] and I were always able to see those little, incremental changes when our kids were growing up. And I tell my kids that, with their babies: Don’t miss a thing, don’t look away. A sudden case of holidays I’m in the movie A Sudden Case of Christmas with my daughter Lucy, who plays my daughter. It’s just a real warm, wonderful movie, and I loved doing it. As far as the actual holidays go, we have family dinners. Basically we’re Italian, so you know, anybody who’s around, we grab. We get to celebrate all the holidays, because Rhea’s parents were Jewish, so we did all the Jewish holidays, and we do all the Catholic holidays or Italian holidays. My mantra It’s always a good thing to be positive about life, and always get out of bed thinking today’s the day you’re really going to kick its ass. That’s the way to do it

[moonandst4rs]

"Stay with me, I don't want you to leave"

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Part two of "Think I like you best when you're just with me, And no one else"

Warnings: Angst, fluff, no use of y/n, gn!reader x Dean Winchester,

A/N: Inspired by K. - Cigarettes after sex. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You tried to let it go. You truly did, but the pain of your situation was agonizing. The more you ignored it, the more it broke you down.

In a moment of bravery, you gathered the courage. "Why do you treat me differently when we're with other people?" you asked softly, your eyes fixed on the window of the rundown motel room. Your gaze drifted to the moon, as if willing it to hide you. You saw the tension creep into Dean's body. "What?" he whispered, his hand freezing on your arm.

"When we're with Sam, or Cas, or even Bobby, you're different… distant," you continued, searching for the truth behind the distance. "Is it me? Are you ashamed of us?" The words trembled on the edge of your lips, the fear of hearing the answer almost unbearable.

For a moment, he was silent—surprisingly so. You could see him wrestling with something deep inside. He took a slow breath, then turned to look into your eyes, his gaze searching yours for something you couldn’t name. Finally, he spoke. "It’s not you, sweetheart," he said, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, his lips lingering there just a second longer than usual. "Don’t start thinking you’re the problem."

His words were comforting, but you still needed more. You couldn't walk away without understanding. "Then what is the problem, Dean?" you pressed, searching his face for the truth. "You can tell me. I won’t judge you." You lowered your voice, a soft plea for him to let his guard down.

"It’s just… I don’t…" His voice faltered, the emotions he usually kept buried creeping into his words. You waited patiently, knowing he needed time. His hesitation didn’t frustrate you; it only made you wish he’d be easier on himself. You knew the weight he carried. You wanted him to share it, not hold it alone.

"I’m not good at this, okay?" he admitted, the words slipping out, raw and vulnerable. "I don’t know how to be in a real relationship. When it’s just us, it’s easy. But when we’re around them, I feel like I gotta keep it together. Like if I let my guard down, something bad’s gonna happen. I’m scared, alright? Scared of what they’ll think, scared of messing this up, scared of losing you." His voice softened, and for the first time, you saw his eyes unguarded, full of honesty. "It’s not that I don’t care. I care too much. I just don’t know how to show it without feeling like I’m risking everything."

His words hit you hard. You’d been waiting for him to open up, and now, here it was. You took his hand gently, grounding him in the moment. "Dean," you said softly, "I understand. I know you’re trying to protect us, but I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me. I love you, walls and rough edges and all. But this distance? It hurts." You searched his eyes, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I want us to be real, even around Sam and Cas. Even when things are tough. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, and we’re in this together. But you have to let me in." You squeezed his hand, your heart pounding in your chest. "I don’t want to feel like I’m losing you when we're around other people. I need all of you, not just the parts you think are safe."

"I don’t know how to let my guard down," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes met yours, filled with uncertainty. "I’ve spent so long protecting myself, keeping people at a distance. It’s hard to imagine anyone sticking around when the walls come down." He exhaled sharply, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "But you’re right. You deserve more than what I’ve been giving you. You deserve all of me." He paused, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let the walls fall, just a little. "I’ll work on it. I’ll try to be better for you… for us. I want to try." His thumb brushed your hand, a rare, tender gesture. "You mean too much to me not to."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a quiet promise that he was here and ready to open up, ready to let you in.

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: Still trekking through the wilderness, a tense confrontation unexpectedly leads you to what you’ve been searching for all along: Joel’s brother, Tommy.

nice long boy for you guys tonight x

You’re up early the next morning. For a moment, the world is still caught in that delicate balance between night and day, the dim light of dawn casting long shadows across the rocky terrain. The air is cold enough to nip at your fingers, seeping through the threads of your gloves as they clutch the rifle to your front.

Joel had insisted on taking both first and second watch, his gruff tone leaving no room for argument last night. Yet here he is, sound asleep, his pack serving as a makeshift pillow. His jacket is wrapped tight around him, the faded fabric rising and falling with the slow, steady rhythm of his breaths.

You’d woken to the sound of a particularly loud snore—one that startled you at first, then made you smile. Turning your head, you’d found him there, his face slack with exhaustion, lines of tension erased in sleep. For a moment, he looked peaceful, the hardness he wore during waking hours softened by the quiet vulnerability of rest.

He needed it. The man had been running on fumes for weeks, stealing snatches of sleep when he could, always on edge, always alert. You’d seen it in the tightness of his shoulders, the way his hand hovered near his weapon even when he wasn’t in immediate danger. Joel carries everything: the responsibility, the danger, the weight of every decision made on this brutal landscape.

You’d decided, in that moment, not to wake him. Instead, you’d taken his place on watch, quietly slipping into the role as he continued to sleep. It wasn’t much, but it was something you could do—for him, for the group.

You glance back, watching as he jolts awake now, his hand instinctively reaching for the weapon at his side. His eyes dart around, wide and alert, before landing on you. For a moment, he looked disoriented, the haze of sleep still clinging to him.

“Easy, easy,” you say softly, turning your attention back to the horizon. “You were asleep. I woke up early.”

His voice is rough when he answers, still thick with sleep. “You gotta wake me up if that happens.”

“No, I don’t.” A smile curls under the scarf he’d insisted you wear, the fabric muffling your words. “You needed the sleep.”

He lets out a sharp breath, the sound carrying a mix of irritation and something else you can’t quite place. “I’m responsible for you.”

“In what world?” you tease, tilting your head to glance at him. “You’re responsible for that girl. I can handle myself.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think you’ve overstepped. But then his shoulders ease, the irritation melting into something quieter.

“You wake me next time,” he says, softer now, his voice carrying an edge of insistence. His brows furrow as he looks at you, but there’s a gentleness there too, a quiet concern as his gaze lingers.

“Yes, sir,” you reply with mock formality, enunciating each syllable, your eyes steady on his.

His lips press together, but the huff he lets out betrays him, the corners of his mouth twitching like he wants to laugh despite himself. Before he can respond, Ellie appears, jogging up from the tree line, her breath puffing in the cold morning air.

“Think I spotted some rabbits out there,” she says, slightly out of breath. “Maybe we can catch them on our way.”

Joel turns to you, his brow arching in incredulity.

“She was fine,” you say preemptively, shrugging. “I could see her the whole time.”

He sighs, his jaw tightening briefly, but it’s clear he realizes he isn’t going to win an argument with her. Instead, he turns back to Ellie, muttering, “Grab your stuff. We’re moving out soon.”

“Damn.”

“Well, you’re no Will Livingston,” you mutter to Ellie, referring to her favorite pun book that she carries and often torments you with for hours on end. Your breath mists in the frigid air as you stand at the edge of a steep drop-off. The wind bites at your cheeks and tugs at your scarf while the three of you look down into a massive dam. The structure looms large and gray, weathered by time but still holding firm against the rushing water below.

The river churns and roars beneath you, the dam clearly still in working order, its turbines likely humming somewhere deep inside.

“So that made electricity?” Ellie asks, turning to you with curiosity in her eyes.

You shrug. “Don’t ask me.”

Both of you look to Joel, his profile silhouetted against the pale winter sky. He stares down at the water. After a beat, he turns away with a small shake of his head. “Yeah. Don’t ask me either—I don’t have a clue.”

Ellie huffs and rolls her eyes. “Coulda made somethin’ up,” she says with a shrug. “I woulda believed you.”

You smirk, watching as Joel shoots her a fleeting glance, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before it disappears.

The three of you begin walking again, following the dam’s edge. The icy wind carries the sharp smell of snow and water, and every so often, you hear the faint groan of metal under pressure as the dam does its work.

“Hey…” you say after a moment, your voice cutting through the steady crunch of boots on snow. “What if… this is that ‘River of Death’ those people were talking about?”

Joel’s steps falter, his body pausing mid-stride as your words hang in the air. He turns his gaze to the water, his brow furrowing as if weighing the possibility. For a long minute, he stands there, hand resting on his rifle strap, his breath coming out in slow, visible puffs.

Then, without a word, he extends his hand toward you.

“Map.”

You blink, quickly withdrawing the map from your coat pocket and handing it over. He unfolds it, spreading it flat against his thigh as the three of you gather close.

Joel traces the lines with his finger, muttering something under his breath as he tries to orient himself. Ellie leans in beside him, her breath warm against your shoulder as she peers at the map. You glance at the horizon, scanning for landmarks to compare against the paper.

None of you notice the sound at first—the faint rhythm of hooves against snow, muffled by the roar of the river. It isn’t until it grows louder, accompanied by the distant jingle of bridles and the low snort of horses, that the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Joel…” you say, your voice low, a warning.

His head snaps up, his entire posture shifting from contemplative to alert. His hand drops to his rifle instinctively, and he turns toward the sound just as the riders crest the ridge behind you.

The sun catches on their weapons, the glint of steel unmistakable, and a cold dread settles in your stomach as they begin to close the distance.

“Get behind me,” Joel says softly, his voice sharp and commanding. His free hand moves to grab yours, pulling you behind him with a firm tug. Without thinking, you grab Ellie’s hand, pulling her beside you as the three of you huddle together.

There are at least a dozen of them, all on horseback, their weapons trained on you. Their faces are hard, unreadable under ski masks that cover their jaws and mouths, but their intent is clear. Joel releases your hand and his rifle simultaneously, his hands lifting in a slow, deliberate motion of surrender.

“We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble,” he says, his voice steady, though you can hear the tension beneath it. “We’re just passin’ through.”

“Guns on the ground,” the man in front orders, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Joel nods once, glancing back at you briefly. His expression is calm, but his eyes hold a warning. You follow his lead, releasing the strap of your weapon and letting it drop to the ground beside his.

The man’s gaze shifts, locking onto you. Even from twenty feet away, you can feel the weight of his scrutiny.

“You,” he barks, his tone sharp, “Take five steps back. Without the girl.”

You swallow hard, the command clear and foreboding. Your feet feel rooted to the ground for a moment before you force them to move.

“How ‘bout we just talk this through?” Joel says, his voice careful but firm, trying to diffuse the situation.

“How ‘bout you shut the fuck up?” the man snaps, his gun still trained on you.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you whisper, but you’re not sure if its to reassure him or yourself. Your heart hammers in your chest as you take slow, deliberate steps backward. With every inch you move away, the absence of Joel’s broad frame at your side leaves you feeling exposed, vulnerable. The warmth of his presence, his protection, is gone, replaced by the biting cold and the weight of a dozen weapons pointed in your direction.

“You been near infected?” the man asks, his gun unwavering as he eyes you.

“No infected out here,” Joel answers quickly, his voice calm but tight.

“The hell there ain’t.” The man whistles sharply, and the sound is like a blade cutting through the air. From behind the group, a dog’s sharp barks erupt, and a handler steps forward with the animal straining against its leash.

“Last chance for a bullet,” the man says coldly. “If you’ve been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.”

Your blood turns to ice as the dog is let off its leash. The snarling barks grow louder, each one a dagger in your chest.

Ellie.

Ellie is infected but immune. The dog doesn’t know that. The man doesn’t know that. All you can see is her small frame being torn apart by this animal in your mind’s eye. The thought makes your vision blur, panic roaring in your ears.

The dog charges Joel first, its nose sniffing rapidly as it circles him. It pauses, standing on its hind legs to place its paws on his chest. For one terrible moment, you brace for the worst—but the animal lowers itself and moves on. Clearly a good sign.

“Now her,” the man says, pointing at you.

The dog approaches, its body tense, sniffing the air as it nears. You stand frozen, barely registering its movements. Your focus is on Ellie, your mind racing for a plan, a distraction, anything to protect her.

The dog sniffs you thoroughly, then places its paws on your front. It lowers itself again without incident. Relief floods through you, but it’s short-lived as it turns toward Ellie.

Jesus Christ. This is it. This is how it ends. After everything—after all the danger, the sacrifices, the miles traveled—Ellie is going to die here because of a dog.

Your breath catches in your throat as the dog reaches her, its nose working furiously. Joel’s body is stiff as a statue, his eyes wide, jaw clenched. You can’t even look at him anymore; all you can do is stare at Ellie, silently pleading for a miracle.

The dog rises onto its hind legs, paws pressing against Ellie’s chest. She freezes for a moment, then giggles softly, her hand reaching out to pet it.

The sound of her laughter breaks through the storm of panic in your head. The world tilts back onto its axis, breath flooding your lungs as if you’ve been drowning and finally breached the surface.

Joel’s gaze snaps to you, his eyes wide, mirroring your own disbelief. Both of you stand there, caught in the same stunned realization: What the fuck just happened?

“You just bought yourself ten more seconds,” the man says, his gun still trained on you. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

Joel exhales sharply, his voice strained but steady. “I’m just lookin’ for my brother.”

A woman on horseback steps forward, her eyes narrowing as she studies him. “What’s your name?”

“Joel,”

The large wooden gates swing open to the town of Jackson, Wyoming, with a loud creak and groan, the sound reverberating off the snow-dusted landscape. The group of riders surges forward, their horses’ hooves clattering against the icy ground as you enter.

It’s been years since you’ve ridden a horse, but the feeling of the mare beneath you is familiar, almost comforting. Her steady rhythm keeps you grounded as your eyes take in the small western town ahead. Ellie rides beside you, Joel just in front on his own horse, his posture stiff, his attention focused forward.

But then Joel slows, his horse coming to an abrupt halt. You pull the reins gently, bringing your mare to a stop beside his, curiosity flickering as you watch him.

His eyes are locked across the expanse of the town, fixed on a man standing near a crane, his frame outlined against the overcast sky. The man is clad in a sherpa-lined denim jacket, his hands busy as he works, unaware of the approaching group.

“Tommy!” Joel calls out, his voice cutting through the chill air.

Without hesitation, Joel swings off his horse, landing heavily on the frozen ground. You instinctively take hold of his reins, steadying the animal as Joel strides toward the man.

The man—Tommy—stops, turning toward Joel. For a moment, there’s stillness, the kind that feels like the world itself is holding its breath. Then Tommy’s face lights up, his smile broad and unmistakable beneath his dark curls.

“Joel,” he says, his voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and joy, and within seconds, the two brothers are embracing, their arms flying around each other.

You can’t help but watch the reunion, the way Joel’s usually guarded expression softens, the years of wear and loss momentarily falling away. Tommy’s joy is infectious, his energy almost boyish despite the rugged lines etched into his face.

For a fleeting moment, your gaze lingers on Tommy’s hair—dark, untouched by time—and you wonder if Joel’s had been the same shade twenty years ago. It’s hard to imagine now, his hair forever flecked with gray, a testament to years you can only guess at.

Their voices are muffled by the distance, their conversation lost in the murmur of the bustling town around you. Still, you can feel the weight of the moment, the way it tugs at something deep within Joel.

But then your eyes shift to Ellie. She’s watching too, but there’s something different in her gaze. Her brow is furrowed, her lips pressed tight, worry flickering in her expression.

“You okay?” you ask softly, but Ellie doesn’t answer right away.

Her eyes stay fixed on Joel and Tommy, her small hands gripping the reins a little too tightly. But then after a moment, her gaze flickers to you, her lips plastering on a small, very fake smile, “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

IInside the dining hall, the warmth wraps around you like a heavy blanket. The room is expansive yet cozy, with vaulted wooden beams overhead and stone fireplaces crackling at either end. Soft, ambient light from rustic chandeliers hangs above long, polished tables, where families and groups laugh and talk over steaming plates of food. It smells of roasted chicken, baked bread, and something sweet lingering in the air—a world away from the bleakness you’ve known.

The three of you sit at a table laden with chicken, potatoes, and vegetables, steam curling into the air above your plates. You can’t help but savor every bite, the food warming your stomach in a way that feels almost healing.

“There’s more if you need it,” Maria says from across the table, her voice polite but tinged with a hint of watchfulness.

“Thank you, ma’am. It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal,” Joel replies, his tone respectful but reserved.

“Probably since we were at your place,” Ellie quips, glancing up at you for a fraction of a second before turning her attention back to her plate. “This is fuckin’ amazing.”

Joel exhales sharply, his brows knitting as he gives her a pointed look. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

You catch Joel’s hesitation as he glances across the table at Tommy and Maria. Joel looks uneasy, his body stiff even in this moment of peace. Tommy sits beside you, a little too close for comfort, but the warm meal and the ambiance dull the edge of your usual discomfort.

But then Ellie’s attention snaps to something behind you, her eyes narrowing. “What?” she blurts out, her tone defensive.

“Hey,” you say sharply, twisting in your chair to glance behind you, seeing a girl run off. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel mutters low, his voice tight with irritation. 

“What about her manners?” Ellie snaps.

“El, relax,” you say, trying to calm her from across the table.

“She was just curious,” Maria interjects, her tone measured but firm. She sits beside Tommy at the head of the table, watching Ellie warily. “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

You offer a polite smile, but Ellie remains stone-faced. “Right, well. Maybe I’ll teach them,” she says flatly.

You roll your eyes, sitting back in your chair. “Ellie.”

“What?” she snaps, glaring at you.

Something’s off. This isn’t about manners, and the tension in her shoulders tells you as much. You narrow your eyes at her but say nothing as Maria calmly reminds Ellie that no one is armed inside the premises.

“You know what?” Tommy says, his voice soft, breaking the awkward silence. “I think y’all got off on the wrong foot.”

“She was gonna have her guys kill us,” you mutter, wiping your mouth. A hint of sarcasm slips into your tone, earning you a reprimanding look from Joel.

“We gotta be careful about who we let in this place,” Tommy explains easily, his tone light but firm. “It’s all bark. We’re just tryin’ to scare off the ones who might wanna try us.”

“Well, you got a couple of ninety-year-olds shitting themselves out there,” Ellie deadpans, turning back to her plate.

“El,” you say, unable to suppress a laugh, though Joel looks exasperated. He shoots another apologetic glance toward Maria, who doesn’t seem fazed.

“They say you leave dead bodies around?” Ellie demands.

“Those are the people who tried us,” Maria explains evenly.

“A bad reputation doesn’t always mean you’re bad,” Tommy adds.

“Not always, at least,” Maria echoes softly, though her eyes linger on Joel.

Joel shifts in his seat, glancing around the room. “Look, ma’am, we appreciate your hospitality and all, but it’d be nice to maybe just have a moment here for family.”

You glance at Tommy, who shifts uncomfortably before reaching for Maria’s hand. “Well, uh… Maria is family, actually.”

“Congrats,” you mutter, sipping your water. When neither Joel nor Ellie echoes the sentiment, you shoot them both a pointed look. “Say congrats.”

“Congrats,” they both mumble in unison, their deadpan expressions earning a sigh from you.

Tommy offers a tour after dinner, and as you step outside into the cold night air, the town of Jackson opens up before you.

Even in winter, it’s breathtaking. The tall gates stand like sentinels, enclosing a community bustling with life. Beyond the walls, the snow-covered mountains stretch endlessly, their peaks catching the faint glow of moonlight. Within the gates, warm lights illuminate streets lined with cabins, livestock pens, and gardens. People move through the streets, tending to animals, carrying supplies, laughing, and talking.

It’s… beautiful. Too beautiful, almost. You’ve never seen anything like it in your life. Your home with Bill and Frank was merely a fraction of this.

You look around, taking in the crowds. The strangers. So many faces, so many voices, so many people all around you. The air begins to feel thinner, the noises becoming louder, pressing against your skull. Your breath quickens, your chest tightening as you try to process it all.

You fall a step behind the group, your eyes darting from person to person, trying to make sense of this overwhelming new reality. It’s not just the sheer number of people–well, maybe it is. But  it’s the fact that none of them are familiar. Not a single one.

You can hear the conversation around you, fragments of words filtering through the haze of your thoughts. Something about the dam being their source of electricity, about keeping off the radio, schools and a church, a commune. Three hundred people.

It feels like the ground is tilting beneath you.

You’re fine. You’ll be fine. But all you want is to get to a secluded space, somewhere quiet and still, away from the sea of strangers and the eyes that follow you as you pass.

The beauty of this place is undeniable—the snow-covered rooftops, the warm glow of lights spilling onto the streets, the sound of laughter and conversation echoing between the buildings. It’s a slice of life you’ve never known. But it comes with a cost. For someone like you, who’s lived in isolation for so long, the world suddenly feels too big, too loud, too alive.

“I’m sure you guys need a shower, some new clothes.” Maria says, and you finally tune in. A retreat, please, yes please.

“We can put them in the empty house across the street from us, “Maria continues, looking at Tommy. He nods, agreeing with her.

“Well I’ll take Ellie and her over there if you two wanna catch up.”

“Joel.” Ellie says through her teeth, her eyes widening.

“You’ll be fine.” he says, but his eyes are on you. You nod, and he looks like he’s about to ask you a question before Tommy calls his name from a few feet away.

“Shall we?” Maria asks when Joel turns his head.

“Yeah,” you say, pulling Ellie along.

“I’m sure you guys need a shower, some new clothes,” Maria says, her voice pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You latch onto her words like a lifeline. A retreat. Please, yes, please.

“We can put them in the empty house across the street from us,” Maria continues, looking to Tommy. He nods, his agreement steady and matter-of-fact.

“Well, I’ll take Ellie and her over there if you two wanna catch up,” Maria offers.

“Joel,” Ellie says sharply through her teeth, her eyes widening as she looks at him.

“You’ll be fine,” Joel replies, his voice calm but firm. But his gaze shifts to you, lingering. There’s something in his expression, a question, maybe even concern.

You nod, trying to appear steady, even as your hands tighten around the strap of your bag.

Joel looks like he’s about to say something—maybe ask if you’re okay—but Tommy’s voice calls his name from a few feet away, breaking the moment.

“Shall we?” Maria asks, her tone kind but brisk as Joel turns his head.

“Yeah,” you manage to say, the word barely leaving your throat before you reach for Ellie, pulling her along beside you.

[dragonologist-phd]

and i'm not supposed to believe they're in love? come on.

[erodingsinner]

tracie's happy new year post on ig... i'm unwell

[dreamyblanket]

[foxinys]

[josephtrohman]

"Here is a 21 year old picture of a picture of Joe from when I told him we could get food from A&W the next day because he was craving a root beer float."

[guzhufuren]

241202 San instagram: 😉

[andreisvechnikov]

ROD THE BOD x REAL HOT GIRL SHIT

[abz-solute-art]

More modern AU art bc I was still on that design kick. Second pic based off of this image a mutual ahared in their discord server

Please do not repost, reblogs are fine!

[halorocks1214]

I WOULD DIE FOR PEARLBOT

[puntastic-artist]

*picks up mic*

*taps it*

People should portray Francis like a loser more, I need loser content, please I'm starving