#i feel like a fucking child i can't deal with this

[zorilleerrant]

So the differences between these two cover a lot. They are both con men. They are both autistically obsessed with their special coats. They do pay careful attention to fashion trends and tailor their appearances to the space they're trying to infiltrate, something that seemed fun and easy to them to begin with. (Altho I do get the impression Captain Jack signed up initially out of some sense of duty or protecting his fellow sapients.) They're both family men who are terrified of endangering their families. The type of guy is likely to draw the same crowd in a lot of cases. The details vary a lot.

First, erotic relationships - while Constantine sleeps around whenever he's single (or, rather, used to when he was younger), he's a serial monogamist at heart. He falls fast and deep for whoever's caught his eye this minute, even when he's trying to keep it casual. He always expects it to be long term, and his overly intense expectations inevitably cause him to fuck something up. While he's open to sexual experimentation with his current partner (orgies, etc.), he can't really handle polyamory. Captain Jack, on the other hand, is capable of understanding monogamous relationships (it probably exists as a queer identity where he's from), but he struggles to engage in one. He meets people where they are, though, and so sometimes engages in relationships that are dispreferential to him, figuring he can fill that in elsewhere.

Second, killing - Captain Jack considers himself a soldier, even when he's doing civilian things, even when he's on the run, even when he's working for a very different cause than a war. War shaped him, and war stole away his limits. He has no hesitation about killing people if it's necessary. Even when he knows them, loves them, doesn't want to hurt them: when he knows it's necessary, he simply acts. He doesn't enjoy hurting or killing people, but he does consider it a tool always available to him. Constantine is capable of killing people, but just barely. Even when he knows it's absolutely necessary, he will hunt for every other possible option, often until the time is up. He's incapable of killing a child even when he knows that child will grow up to destroy the universe. Until his life or the life of a loved one is directly threatened, he has trouble acting. Counterintuitively, this means that Captain Jack feels directly responsible for any death that he orders or obliquely causes, while Constantine in much more picky about what blood he carries on his hands.

Third, trauma - Captain Jack exists to embody heavily dramatized impossible traumas that, while they have analogy to real people's problems, exaggerate and contort them until they're safe to deal with in a fantasy context. Constantine does the opposite. Constantine's traumas are almost exclusively meant to be very real, very concrete things that happen directly to real people, and where his reactions to them are realistic, even when they involve magic (in either causing or healing the trauma). Captain Jack's bad memories are symbolic, metaphorical, allegorical. Constantine's bad memories are relatable and believable. (Both of them are direct explorations of common queer experiences, though.)

Fourth, powers - Constantine is almost entirely self-taught. While he did obtain mentors and friends to help him expand his repertoire later in his career, this was after he learned everything that was dangerous with no guidance, oversight, or support. He's often said to be a relatively weak magic user, and most of his impressive skill comes from the fact that he had to learn loopholes and exploits to do everything he ever did, from the ground up, instead of following any established pattern of magic users. That and making terrible bargains with all manner of more powerful creatures, most of whom only ever had his worst interests at heart. Captain Jack, on the other hand, was taught rigorously by many different organizations. He was considered exceptionally skilled, a prodigy even, and always enjoyed easy support from his colleagues. Everything else is from one specific accident born from love.

Fifth, self-image - Captain Jack has lots of regrets and lots of wishes, but in general, he thinks of himself as someone who's trying to do good things. He doesn't think he's the worst person just because he's not the best person, and he always strives to improve, because he believes in himself. He's suicidal mostly because he thinks it's unnatural the way he exists, and because of grief. Constantine hates everything about himself at all times. He's trying, he's desperately trying, but he doesn't think he's capable of turning himself into someone who deserves to be alive. He has all kinds of internalized bigotry that he'd be horrified if anyone else said, but believes is true about himself. He firmly believes he is the worst person who ever existed and yet he's afraid to die.

Themes Constantine focuses on that Captain Jack doesn't:

addiction

religion

sexual abuse and recovery

poverty/systemic classism

solidarity and mutual aid

footie

Themes Captain Jack focuses on that Constantine doesn't:

exile/cultural history erasure

chosen family

the ethics of coverups

the universalism of violence/the universalism of kindness

ties through time and place

workplace sex

Themes that both focus on:

grief and loss

alienation from wider culture

power and responsibility

star-crossed love

how good and evil on a grand scale interacts with the personal

monsterfucking

You seem like you would know the answer to this question, are Jack Harkness and John Constantine the Same Guy? I know they're from different things and only have the vaguest dashboard osmosis idea about either of them but the instinct is so strong. What is causing this? Help

you've osmosed them into a single slutty bisexual disaster man that doesn't mind his own business and refuses to die

[staticscreenwriting]

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times II Joel Miller

Summary: Joel doesn't think he's deserving of love after all he did and all he went trough. Or maybe he's just scared. Either way he can't let himself fall for (Y/N). Now if only she'd stop sending him those damn postcards.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (I always try not to describe the reader physically, if I missed something please let me know so I can change it and make this "applicable" to every reader. Thank you!)

A/N: This is my entry for the dear-uary challenge by @jolapeno . My prompt was "Character A keeps finding X and traces them back to Character B, who might be leaving them intentionally—or not." And I chose Postcards as my form of epistolary.

TW: This is mostly angsty fluff. There is some talk of self doubt and loss of a child but I think that should be it.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

It all starts with a simple postcard tucked into the side pocket of his bag. Joel almost doesn’t realize it’s there, folded twice into a tiny square. It’s only when he’s looking for the list Maria gave him of all the things to look for on this run, that he grabs a hold of the card. 

His gloves make it hard to unfold the small paper but it’s way too cold to take them off. Joel was never big on winter and snow, even before everything went to shit. He doesn’t like the way it lingers, the way it consumes you from the inside out. Now, an unforgiving cold is all he feels as a thick blanket of snow has settled upon Wyoming. 

Bold bright letters scream out to him from the wrinkled paper “ Greetings from Tampa Florida. Wish you were here!”.

It’s one of those campy vintage ones where the letters are filled with drawings of landmarks and beaches. He remembers sending one just like this to his High School girlfriend when Dad took him and Tommy on a trip to Nashville when Joel was 16 maybe 17. It was a good trip, the last one they ever took together. Sometimes Joel wonders how his dad would deal with all of this. This new reality. This fucked up world. He always seemed so strong, so fearless. That man was unstoppable force and immovable object all at once. Every vulnerability Joel finds in himself, he’s sure was absent in his father. Maybe if he was a little more like his own dad he could’ve saved Sarah, could’ve spared Ellie the pain of living in this limbo of knowing and not knowing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Joel moves closer to the fire, his only light source other than the stars. There’s writing on the back, blue ink on off-white paper. It’s not a handwriting he knows and for a second he wonders if the card has been there ever since he found the bag years ago, back in Boston. But he would know that, right? Would've found it by now. This must be new. This must be meant for him.

“ I know you hate the cold. I know it makes you sad and gloomy, well gloomier than usual. So let me tell you about the hottest day I ever experienced. I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8 and my mom took me to Florida. Not Tampa (it was the only postcard I could find at the library), but Orlando. We went to fucking Disney World!! We didn’t have a lot of money back then so mom must’ve saved a long time for this. Anyway, Joel, it was so hot. Unbearably hot. My clothes stuck to my skin and my hair got all frizzy. Maybe July wasn’t the best time to go. The air was so thick and heavy, so moist (ew). It felt like breathing in honey, syrup maybe. I still had the best time. I know it doesn’t take away the cold but I hope I can take you away to that hot and humid Florida summer for one small moment. If not, there’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag. Made it myself. You never told me what your favorite color is. I hope you like blue. xx 

P.S.: I wonder what happened to Disney World.” 

A chuckle falls from Joel’s lips and forms a cloud against the sharp winter air. He's never been to Disney World. The Millers just weren’t a Disney World kind of family. They were more of a local fair kind of family. All corn dogs and funnel cakes and first kisses behind the bumper cars. Sarah would’ve loved Disney World though. Ellie too. Ellie who doesn’t even know what the hell Disney is. 14 years and the girl has no idea who Mickey Mouse is. What a surreal thought. What a strange world. More than 20 years and it still feels strange. Joel wonders if life will ever let him settle in this new reality. If one day this feels like home and not a bad dream. Not a cosmic punishment. A bad joke that no one’s laughing at anymore.

His eyes travel back towards the blue swirly writing. It’s not Ellie’s bad chicken scratch, he could pick that out of a line-up any day. This looks much neater, more deliberate, and thoughtful. 

“There’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag.”

Quiet, as not to wake up the others sleeping just a few steps away, Joel opens the zipper on his bag and rummages through it with a gloved hand. There’s a bunch of stuff in there, food rations, ammunition, a second pair of gloves. Going on supply runs is not something Joel enjoys but it is a way for him to give back. To Tommy and Maria and the entire community. Jackson and its people have taken him and Ellie in as one of their own without much hesitation. They provided them with food, with shelter, with trust. He has so little to give in return. Going on a supply run to look for medicine and other necessities, that’s the least he can do. 

Something soft and squishy meets his hand and he pulls out a dark blue woolen scarf. There are so many holes and even in the dim light of the campfire, Joel can tell those holes are not there on purpose. Maybe it was Ellie after all, but then she never showed any interest in knitting, and the idea of her doing just that is far too ridiculous. No matter how imperfect it is though, Joel has to admit the scarf does make him feel warmer as he wraps it around his neck. 

“Hey,” Adam, one of the other guys on the run, speaks up from beside Joel, “you can catch some sleep if you want. I can take over the watch.” 

It’s a strange thing, how sometimes you don’t notice just how tired you are or how hungry you are until someone points it out to you. Until they offer to take it from you. Then it hits you like a brick to the face. A wave pulling you under. 

Joel feels his eyelids grow heavy and nods at the younger man. "Thanks". 

This mystery, it can wait until tomorrow. Until then he will bury his face in the warm soft wool of the scarf and think of that Florida sun. And though it most definitely is just his imagination, Joel could almost swear the night feels a little less cold.

His boots leave deep imprints in the white icy blanket as he makes his way past the Tipsy Bison and the community hall further towards his house. His home. 

No place has really felt like home in years. Not since all of this started. Everything was temporary. 4 walls and a roof. He wonders if this place will ever start feeling like home? Will he ever get to a point where he doesn’t wait for the second shoe to drop? It all feels like he’s Charlie Brown and life is Lucy pulling the football away at the last second. And it always ends with him falling. He’s so tired of falling. So tired of getting back up.

Joel almost expects the house to be silent as he steps inside. Ellie is slowly making friends with the other teens living in the settlement and is spending more time at their houses than she is at home. He can’t blame her. If he was more like his father he’d find it in himself to start conversations with people, get to know them, forge connections, make friends. Of the Miller boys, Tommy is the one who inherited their dad’s social gene though, Joel only got the snarl and the crippling inability to talk about his feelings.

Laughter echoes through the house as Joel rounds the corner connecting the entryway to the living room. Ellie’s laughter, loud and bright and light. As if for a moment all the horrors and the pain and the trauma have been taken from her.

When he steps into the kitchen, Joel understands. 

(Y/N) is standing by the counter, a smile on her face so soft and radiant it might just rival the sun. That joy she brings out in Ellie, it’s familiar to Joel because he feels it too whenever (Y/N) is around. Not always but sometimes. It’s a spark of warmth that starts in his chest and crawls up his spine. It settles in his lungs, his heart, his brain. Like a parasite. Like a virus. Like a wonderful dream. He doesn’t allow himself to feel it all the time but sometimes, sometimes he can’t deny himself this little bit of warmth.

Joel can’t even remember when exactly (Y/N) became a part of their life. It’s like one day she was there and refused to leave. And really that’s kind of how it went. She works at the library and the school, lives across the street from him and Ellie and for some reason, she’s taken pity on them. Joel isn’t sure if it's him or Ellie she pities. Maybe a mix of both. Either way, she brought over some soup one day and that’s the beginning and end of it all. She’s wormed her way into Ellie’s heart and by extension his too. Whether he likes to admit it or not. Doesn't hurt that she's so damn beautiful too.

“Joel, you’re back!” 

Ellie pulls him in a tight hug. It’s something Joel still has to get used to. Ellie isn’t a particularly affectionate person. She’s definitely not a hugger. And neither is Joel — not anymore at least. So when they do hug, it’s still a little strange. Not bad strange just unfamiliar. 

“Yeah, I’m back. 

“How did it go?” (Y/N) asks and meets his eyes over Ellie’s head. A silent conversation happening between her and Joel. It’s that thing she does where she doesn’t need to say a single word but Joel can tell exactly what she’s thinking just by the look in her eyes. He sometimes wonders if this is a them thing. 

“Did someone die” her eyes are saying. “Did someone get hurt?” 

“Did you get hurt?” 

He quickly shakes his head answering her unspoken questions. Not this time. 

“Good. It went good.” 

Maybe the relieved sigh he sees her let out is just his imagination. But Joel doesn’t think so. Joel thinks it's very real.

“Did you bring us something? “ 

He can’t help but smile at that. It feels good to smile. In a world that gives you grief and sorrow, you start to count the moments when it gives you a reason to smile. They are few and far between but the number has surely increased since Ellie stepped into his life — and since (Y/N) did. 

“I brought food and medicine. Isn’t that enough? “

A determined “no” falls from both their lips in a chaotic harmony. 

“Geez, you guys are demanding.” 

“Well — did you bring us something?” 

Joel just rolls his eyes and rummages through his bag for the goods. 

“For you— “ he says and throws the old wrinkled comic book towards Ellie who regards it with that endless sense of wonder she does possess. It’s the kind of spark that flickers and dies once you grow old. Or maybe just his did. Maybe grief leaves no room for wonder. 

Placing his bag on the ground, Joel moves into the kitchen and holds out his loot to (Y/N). Green background. White goats. Yellow bubble letters.

“Oooooh, you did get me something. Pet Sounds, nice!” 

There’s a spark in her too. Dulled and dusted from time but it is there and it flickers and grows every time Joel brings her a vinyl record from his trips outside of the settlement. In a world with so little joy, music seems to be one of the few things that hasn’t changed. In the face of immeasurable pain, humans turn to music. They have done so for a long time and judging by the world as is, they always will. 

“I hope it works still. Didn’t really have a record player to try it out.” 

“I’ll try it out as soon as I get to the library. Feel free to come by and listen with me.” 

“Sure.” 

“Thank you, Joel. I hope you didn’t have to do anything stupid to get this.” 

He didn’t. Not this time. He would’ve though. It scares him how willing he is to put himself in danger just to get her something that will put that radiant smile on her face. He’d walk to the end of the earth if he knew there was a record there she wanted. That thought scares the shit out of him. It’s bad enough he cares so deeply about Ellie, about Tommy. The more people you care about, the more you open yourself up to hurt. Losing either of them would tear him apart. Joel is not sure he can handle opening his heart to yet another person no matter how much his heart wants just that. 

“ Nah. No issues.” 

“Good.” 

She just looks at him for a moment. All soft eyes and gentle smile. There must be something she sees in him, Joel thinks, something he doesn’t see. A version of himself that he isn’t, that he will never be. A version he once was, maybe. A version he so desperately wishes he could be. For her.

“Well,” (Y/N) says and snaps him out of her enchantment “Ellie and I made some stew. I know you must’ve been freezing outside, some good warm stew might help warm you up a little.” 

“It smells great.” 

“You have impeccable timing because we just got done. So, dig in. And uh — I guess I’ll see you guys at the movie screening?” 

He doesn’t want her to leave. The devil and the angel on his shoulders are both screaming at him to ask her to stay. And if he was any stronger a man, any more like his own father and more deserving of good things, he would ask her. To stay for dinner. To stay forever.

But he isn’t. And he doesn’t ask. Just watches as she wraps a scarf around her neck and slips into the thick jacket that's a few sizes too big on her.

“I left the recipe by the fridge. Just in case you ever want to cook it yourself.” 

“Thanks.” 

And he really is grateful. For her. For everything.

“Oh Joel,” she says and stops in the doorway. “I like that scarf. Blue looks really good on you.” 

And then she’s gone, swallowed by the cold winter air. 

Joel hasn’t thought about his favorite color in forever. It’s something you stop thinking about once you start growing hair on your chest and fantasizing about girls in a way you haven’t before. Kids talk about their favorite colors all the time. Sarah did. It’s just once you grow old you lose that sense of self, define yourself through different things. 

Looking at the scarf now, all holes and imperfections, there is no doubt in his mind that his favorite color is blue. 

“Have you ever been to Paris?” 

The lights are dimmed in the big community hall, the movie playing on screen providing the only source of light as the people of Jackson have gathered for another movie night. 

A glimpse into a world that was but no longer is and never will be again. And for some of them, like Ellie, a world that never was to begin with.

Ellie is sitting in the front with some of the other teens, her friends, Joel supposes. She has friends now.

“Joel, have you?” 

A soft hand rests on his arm, shaking him from his gloomy thoughts. (Y/N) sits next to him, eyes focused on the pictures dancing across the screen. Ilsa and Rick, falling in love over and over again in Paris. The beginning of a love story doomed from the start. 

“I uh — no. Never.” 

“Me neither. I would’ve loved to go though. It looks beautiful.” 

He doesn’t know why or how it happens but the words just flow from his mouth like a waterfall. For the first time in a while, he finds himself wanting to talk more. About the past. About Sarah.

“My daughter, Sarah, went to Paris once. Some school exchange program. They don’t usually do it until later but her French class was above average and I guess they won some contest. I don’t know it was a long time ago.” 

“Sounds like she was a smart cookie.” 

"Oh, she was. Too smart for me, that’s for sure. Was hard letting her leave and fly to a whole different continent though. I was scared out of my mind until she was back home. Drove Tommy crazy for a whole damn week.” 

(Y/N) turns her face away from the screen and regards him with that infinite sense of something more. Soft and endearing. If he was a different man he would call it love. He would see the way she looks at him and he would kiss her stupid and life would be all sweet dreams and gentle touches. 

But he is the man he is. Not worthy of whatever she is willing to give.

“What’re looking at me like that for?” 

“It’s just sweet how much you care. About everyone. I think you don’t even know you’re doing it half the time.” 

“Do what?” 

“Care for others. For Ellie and me and all of us. You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I just wish you’d let someone take care of you for a change.” 

He doesn’t need to be taken care of. He can do it all on his own. And anyway, he is not as good of a man as she thinks he is. Good men don’t have the blood of their loved ones stuck to their hands. Good men don’t let their daughters die in their arms. Good men don’t kill. Good men don’t do all the things he did. 

Joel doesn’t want to be a good man. He just wishes he was good enough a man to allow himself to be with (Y/N).

“I ain’t a good man. And I don’t need someone to take care of me.” 

“You wore that scarf, did you not? You allowed me to take care of you then.” 

That damn scarf. He had a hunch it was her. The handwriting on the postcard matched the one of the recipe stuck to his fridge an awful lot. But it’s something else entirely to hear her say it outright. 

“That was you, huh? Had an awful lot of holes that thing.” 

“Hey, I never said I was good at knitting. You wore it anyway.”

Joel turns back towards the screen as Rick and Ilsa share a loving kiss. 

“Yeah, I wore it anyway.” 

And to the sound of bombs and tanks, (Y/N) rests her head on his shoulder.

That’s what you do for the people you love. Even if you don’t allow yourself to love them.

You wear the scarf anyway.

The mailbox flag is up. Bright red against the sharp white of the winter's day. 

It’s never been up. People around here don’t get mail. It’s but an ancient relic of a life they used to live. Remnants of a society long gone. 

But Joel is nothing if not curious. So he stomps up to the mailbox, leaving deep imprints in the freshly fallen snow. 

It’s another postcard. Only this time it doesn’t come with a mystery. This time it comes with that silly little feeling that makes his heart beat just a little faster. That makes his head swirl with stupid thoughts of stupid dreams.

“From Paris with love,” it says on the front. Fucking Paris, of course.

Sometimes the way he feels about her is infuriating, confusing, scary.

And sometimes, like right now, it feels like a ball of warmth settles in his ribcage and warms him from the inside out.

“Dear Joel,

We’ll never have Paris. Not in this life at least. And while I would’ve loved to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle with you and make you eat a croissant (which you would’ve pretended to hate but I think you would’ve enjoyed it secretly), I am glad to get this life with you at least. Or alongside you. Whatever it is we are, I am glad this life gave me that in between all the pain. Despite what you like to tell yourself, Joel Miller, you are a spark of fire, a light in the dark. You are more than the sum of your failures, you are more than your pain. All the good that is in you, that counts. That’s all that matters in the end. And there is so much good in you.

I wish you’d let yourself see it. 

We will never have Paris. But we’ll always have Jackson and that is enough for me. I hope it’s enough for you.

Here’s looking at you kid! ;) “

There’s a tragedy in knowing someone else sees all your good parts and none of the bad. A tragedy in knowing how much they like those good parts and being awfully aware that seeing all the bad parts would destroy them. 

A tragedy in still wanting to show them all of you, even the ugly soul-destroying parts.

But if she thinks he’s a good man, then Joel needs to be just that. A good man who keeps those ugly parts hidden and away from her. Even if that means denying himself the one thing he wants. 

“What’s that?” Ellie speaks up from beside him, a curious look on her face.

“Postcard.” 

“Like what people would send from vacations and stuff?”

“Yeah, how do you know about that?” 

She rolls his eyes at him and it’s one of those moments where he feels like a dad again. Those little moments that mean the world to him because he gets to feel like the old him. The Joel he thought was long dead and buried beside the bones of his own child.

“I watch movies? I talk to people? I read books? Take your pick.” 

“Wow, when did you become such a smartass, huh?” 

She shrugs his shoulders at him “Was born that way. Nothing I can do about it.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Hey, you’ve grown to love me! You wouldn’t want me any other way.” 

And she isn’t wrong. Ellie, with all her curiosity and her bravery and her lust for life, whatever that life may look like, is exactly what he needed. Which makes him wonder if saving her from the fireflies was ultimately more of a selfish act than that of a heroic savior. 

“Who’s it from?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Oh, so (Y/N).” 

His eyes flick up and he is met with that satisfied, mischievous grin that is so uniquely Ellie.

“What makes you think that?” 

“You always change the subject when I bring her up. And that way you just jumped when I mentioned her? Yeah, you’re not slick, old man.” 

“Hey! Who are you calling an old man?” 

“You! Old and scared!” 

“I’m not scared!” 

Like hell he is. Terrified even. But there ain’t no way in hell he’ll admit that to Ellie. She’ll never let him hear the end of it. 

“Then go talk to her! She likes you, you like her. Why do you have to make it so complicated?” 

If only she knew all the ghosts swirling around inside of him threatening to break free. Things could be so easy. Only nothing ever is.

“Mind your own business, kid! Anyway, don't you have someplace to be? Think Dina came by earlier asking for you. You two are getting along well, huh?” 

“Aaaand on that note. See you for dinner, old man!” 

She’s gone before he can even hurl a reply at her. It pulls his lips into a smile. There’s no better way to get a teen to shut up than to bring up their crush. Nice to see that some things never change.

Another run. Another record. 

Joel feels silly, standing here in front of her door with his heart beating fast and heavy as he clutches the vinyl record in his hand. 

If Ellie saw him now, she’d surely make fun of him. Tommy too. Sarah even. 

What happened, Joel? You used to be so brave. What makes you so afraid now? 

Life, he thinks. Life has made him scared and bitter and sad. 

“Did you wanna knock or — ?” 

Joel turns around as the voice calls out to him. There it is again, that softness, that smile. 

“Uh, yes.” 

“Okay, good. Did you come to see me? Sorry, I was helping Maria at the farm.” 

“Yeah no uh — don’t worry about it. I just came to drop this off” 

Her eyes grow wide as she catches sight of which record it is he’s holding up. 

“No way! The stranger! You found it.” 

“ I did.” 

He had to clear an old dilapidated bar full of clickers to get that record. Almost lost his damn arm in the process. But her smile, that god-damn, life-ruining, world-shattering, heart-beat-faster, smile of hers makes it all worth it. He would give both arms, all of him. He would give it all to see her smile.

“Do you wanna come in and listen to it with me? Got my player fixed so I don’t have to use the one at the library anymore.” 

Say no. Just say no and go home. Be a good man! Be a better man! 

But he’s not. For this one moment, he can’t be that man. He’s just as weak as the rest of them. 

“Sure.” 

This feels so — normal. So before everything. Different and twisted and warped. But normal.

It’s scary and comforting all at once. Like a tipsy dream when you know you’ll wake up with a headache for sure.

(Y/N) is twirling around her living room, a beer in hand and a smile on her face. Joel leans against the door connecting her living room and her kitchen and all he can do is stare. At this woman who means so much to him. Too much for him to ever put into words. If he even knew how to. He’s never been a poet. 

“I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right”

“I love this song. Can you imagine someone loving you enough to write something like this about you?” 

Yes, he thinks. If only he WAS a poet. He would write a hundred songs. A thousand. And all of them would talk of her smile and her eyes and the way there is no single thing about her he would change. 

But words fail him. They always do. 

So he just nods.

“Joel,” she says and moves closer. The bottle of beer now placed on her couch table, her hands find his chest. So warm. So soft. And all he does is stare. 

“I know you got my postcards. I know you know how I feel. And sometimes I think you feel the same. I see the way you look at me. I know the dangers you put yourself in to get me those records. I just — you never say anything. So am I making a fool of myself here? Please tell me if I — “ 

“You’re not.” 

Wow, so eloquent. 

“I’m not?” 

Her voice sounds so small. So unsure. He hates that he’s the one who put the uncertainty there. Be a better man, Joel! Be a good man for once! 

But all he does is stare. Words fail him. Again. again. again.

“Then can I — can I do this?” 

(Y/N)’s gaze falls to his lips then back up to his eyes. She is so close. He can feel her warm breath on his skin. Can smell the scent of her shampoo. Notices the tremble of her fingers as her hands rest on his chest.

And he wants to kiss her. Every version of him that ever was and ever will be wants to kiss her. But all he does is stare.

All he does is stare and pull away.

And it breaks his heart to see hers break in that moment. 

“I uh — oh I’m sorry Joel.”

Tears gather in her eyes, fill them with sorrow, fill his heart with rage. He can’t do anything right, can he? Everyone he’s ever loved, he’s disappointed. But how can he let himself love her, how can he let her love him, when he is so broken? When all he does is break things?  Taint them with this infinite sadness that lives and grows inside his bones? 

“It’s not you.” 

“Oh please, Joel. I made a fool of myself already. Don’t make it worse.” 

“I ain’t trying to. It just ain’t you. It’s all me. It’s always been me”

His palms are sweaty and he feels like someone has reached into his ribcage, cracked every rib on the way to his heart, and ripped it out with bare hands. Snapping veins and arteries and all.

“I want you. I want this but I can’t have it. You think I’m a good man but the truth is, I am not. I do bad things all the time, over and over again and time and life have made me so numb to it. But you, you are so good. You deserve someone better. Someone whole.”

It’s like once he’s started it all comes flowing out like a fucking waterfall. All his fears and insecurities and pain. It’s all there for her to be disgusted by. Because god knows there is no way she won’t be. He is. All the time.

“I have not been the same since this all started. Since Sarah — since she died. I live with this immense grief. It surrounds me. It IS me. All of me. And I so desperately want to claw my way out of it. Rip it apart and leave it behind. But at the same time, I want to bury myself in it. Because what if I do leave it behind and I start to forget? Her and all that she was? How is it fair that I have to remember her far longer than I got to know her? So if I get better, if I become the man I need to be to be worthy of your love, am I still gonna be the man she knew? Can I still remember? Because that is all I have. And that is not a burden I can put on you. Not you and not Ellie.”

Joel takes a breath then another but it does little to calm him down.

“You two mean everything to me and I am sorry I am bad at showing it. That I can’t say it. I need you to know, it’s all me that’s the problem. It was never you. I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t wait for her to say anything. He doesn’t think he has the heart to hear a reply anyway. It’s like he just ripped himself open and spilled all his guts, his heart, his lungs, and all his inside out on her living room floor. 

If he was any better of a man he’d pick them up and try to rearrange them.

But he is not a good man. Maybe he never was.

“There was something for you in the mailbox” Ellie exclaims and slumps down on the couch next to him. “I was this close to opening it but I didn’t want to make you even more grumpy than you already are.” 

“I’m not grumpy” 

He has to admit, the tone in which he said those words does not do much to counter her point. Ellie knows too, judging by the way she raises her eyebrow “Sure, you’re not.” 

She drops a sunflower yellow envelope on his lap. ‘Joel’, it says in that swirly handwriting he’s become so familiar with.

It’s been a few weeks since he’s seen (Y/N). Since he spilled all his sorrows and worries to her and then ran. And, surprisingly, Jackson makes it very easy for someone to avoid another person if you only try hard enough.

Maybe Ellie has a point, maybe he has been exceptionally grumpy lately. No correlation to any recent events though. Absolutely zero.

“Sooo are you gonna open it?”

Ellie looks at him with curiosity and that little spark of mischief as if she knows something he doesn’t. 

“Not with you watching over my shoulder, I ain’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Cause it’s none of your business.” 

“Excuse me? I have to live with your grumpy ass because you guys can’t get your shit straight. I think it very much is my business.” 

“Jesus, Ellie. Language!" 

“Sorry,” she says and gives him that pseudo-sheepish look he’s grown familiar with. “You guys need to get your stuff straight.” 

He used to scold her for it but really, he isn’t one to talk. 

“Anywayyyyy, I’ll go stay at Dina’s tonight … just in case you decide to go over and apologize for whatever it is you did and you guys finally sort it out and need some privacy later.” 

“Why do you think I did something?” 

And there it is again that sassy eyebrow raise. The same one he’s seen on Sarah so many times before. It truly is a woman’s world and he’s but a fool living in it. And they let no opportunity pass to remind him of just that.

They are also absolutely right.

“My lawyer advised me not to answer that question. Anyway, be nice. Have fun. Byyyye” 

Her voice trails off as she grabs her bag and rushes outside leaving Joel alone in this big empty house with nothing but his demons and this mysterious envelope.

Carefully he opens the seal and shakes out the contents. A postcard, a photo, and a — cassette tape? 

His eyes find the photo first. It’s a polaroid of him and Ellie and (Y/N). All 3 of them smiling, yes even him. He remembers that day back last summer. It was one of those warm but not yet hot days. (Y/N) was wearing that agonizingly beautiful red sundress. The one that made his heart beat twice as fast. She brought over a whole basket full of cherries from the tree in her garden. A pie too. And that damn Polaroid camera. 

Of course, Ellie was enamored by it, wasted almost the whole damn film. 

“Come on Joel, let's take a picture together,” she had called out to him and pulled him to sit down next to her and (Y/N) on the blanket they had placed on the lawn. 

“I’m not a picture guy,” he had grumbled, “ ain’t nobody want to see my old mug.” 

“Oh shut up. Joel, you are so handsome, don’t even pretend like you don’t know that.” 

It was the first time (Y/N) had ever called him handsome. It was hard for him to believe it then, hell it still is. But she has done it a lot more since then. Calls him handsome and gorgeous and pretty all the time. At first, he thought she was just humoring him but slowly but surely it dawned on him that she meant it. Means it still.

“We don’t know how many good sunny days we have left. Ain’t no shame in trying to remember this one, right?” 

Her eyes held so much honesty then. Vulnerability too. And gratefulness for all they had then after all they had lost. It made him smile then and it makes him smile now.

The Postcard is next, big bold letters spell out TEXAS and in the corner, there’s a drawing of the Texas State Capitol in Austin.

When he turns the Postcard over, there it is again, that swirly writing he’s grown to love so much. 

“Joel, the ‘Postcards from around the world’ book I got from the library didn’t have an Austin one but it did have a Texas one so that’ll have to do. I’m not even sure if you're going to read this. I hope you do because you didn't give me a chance to say my part when you stormed off & I think I deserve that.

You're not the man you were in Austin, you lived through the worst thing imaginable and it changed you. But you are not just your pain. It is part of you but it doesn't define you. I know you see all the bad but none of the good but believe me I see it! Ellie does! You are your pain but you are also the smile on Ellie's face when you bring her a new comic or teach her a song. You're the guitar chords echoing through the air on a warm spring afternoon. You are those fluttery feelings in my heart whenever you look at me.

Joel Miller, I understand if you don't want to be with me but if it's only because you don't think you're good enough then I think that's a choice I get to make. Taking that from me is a dick move. 

You said you're bad at showing love but you're not. You showed me through all those records. Through all those songs. Now let me love you back.”

Joel can’t quite name the feeling spreading through him. It’s both foreign and familiar at the same time. Like an old friend. A hazy memory. Pictures blurred and dulled by time and age. 

Maybe he was wrong, and he hates admitting that. Maybe he ain’t a good man but maybe that is hers to decide. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

He takes the cassette tape in his hand and squints his eyes at the tiny writing on the label. God, he really is getting old. Those eyes ain’t what they used to be.

God only knows - The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

You’re my best friend - Queen - A Night at the Opera

Just Like Heaven - The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (you should!) 

In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel - So

Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper - She’s so unusual

Your Song - Elton John - Elton John

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis - Blue Hawaii

Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton - Slowhand

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs (!!!! LOVE SONGS!!!)

Just The Way You Are - Billy Joel - The Stranger

"You gave me all these records with all these songs and all these words to tell me you love me and I’m not sure you even knew.” 

And she’s right. He got her those records because he knew they’d make her smile. Because that smile means everything to him whether he wants to admit it or not. He got those records to show her that even when he’s gone on a run, she’s always on his mind. He believed it to be a curse, a ghost haunting him for all his past mistakes and taunting him with what he shall never have.

But maybe it’s not a curse. 

Maybe it’s a blessing. A sweet song to remind him that someone back home is waiting. A gentle reminder that life can and will go on and good things can come from immense tragedy. And moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, in fact, it means remembering. Remembering the bad and believing that there can and will be good and that it’s worth it to go on. Even if you are a different you. Not worse or better, just changed. And that you deserve love. And kindness. And warmth.

Joel drops the envelope and its contents on the table and grabs his thick winter jacket as he rushes outside. The cold feels only half as bad as it nips at his skin, he barely notices. There is a fire inside him now, burning away all the doubts and hesitation. 

He’s back at her door, only this time he doesn’t wait to knock. He’s spent so much time denying himself the one thing he wants that he can’t lose just one second more. The rapping of his knuckles against her door echoes through the winter day. Oh, how he can’t wait for the spring and the summer and her in that gorgeous dress. 

“Joel?” 

Back before — everything, Joel remembers a movie night with Sarah. She got to choose and despite being an avid fan of trashy action and horror movies, that time she chose a romantic comedy. All things considered, Joel can admit that when Harry met Sally wasn’t the worst choice but he still would’ve preferred Star Wars or Terminator. 

He does remember the ending though, the grand finale. He remembers Sarah trying to wipe away tears without him noticing. And he remembers Billy Crystal’s words “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” 

Back then he thought it was some silly, cheesy movie speak. No one feels that way, right? It’s grandiose and kitschy for the sake of movie magic.

But no, he’s sure now, that one is true. Because it’s how he feels.

“I love you!” 

That confession should come with ribbons and flowers and fireworks but it doesn’t. It comes with honesty and that is all that matters. It comes from the heart.

“Huh?” 

“I got your postcard. The photo too and the tape. And I love you.” 

“I know. Took you long enough to figure it out.” 

“I’m sorry. I — I still believe that I am not a good man and that you deserve better. But it would be selfish to punish you for my own insecurities. I love you and I want to let you love me. If you still want to, that is.” 

“Joel Miller?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please just fucking kiss me.” 

Joel remembers a lot of kisses in his lifetime. Some rushed, some clumsy. Quick kisses in secret. Long drawn-out smooches in smokey bars. Loving, fast, aggressive, and soft. 

This one is different, as cheesy as it sounds.

This kiss makes him feel like all he’s ever been and all he ever will be can live in peace with one another. This kiss makes him feel like none of it matters as long as he has her. 

She tastes like peppermint and sunshine and he’s sure he’ll never get enough of her. The feeling of her skin against his as he gently cradles her face in his hand. The soft movements on her chest as she breathes. The twitch of her lips as she smiles into the kiss.

For the first time in his life, Joel is sure that a kiss is more than a kiss. It’s a healing hand on a shattered heart. It’s a new path to a new future. It’s sunshine melting the ice from his bones.

It’s a promise to try every day and to be better and to be enough. ---

[sunflowerandstrawberryspice]

What up y'all! I return bearing what was originally gonna be survival!shipping fluff (I sketch the face first and drew young Garmadon instead of his full Oni version) but morphed into this because my ass was listening to Ethel Cain and Flower Face while drawing. Honestly I took it and wound up playing rendering/color and quite frankly I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out!

Translations: Vertical word- Destruction, bottom text- "You are no man, men don't have claws they can't cut."

Garmadon is my favorite character to use for these more painterly metaphorical art studies because:

A) He's my babygirl and favorite character, this is very well established lol

B) He's a fundamentally tragic character. He's doomed by the narrative in every sense of the word, he was a child when he was bit and after that he was left to deal with the fact that there was this evil snake in his head and his father as well as his brother (seemingly the only people he interacted with as a child) were now somewhat afraid of him. By his young adulthood his relationship with his family begins to strain due to their belief he's "turning evil" especially when going on the quest for tea leaves in Spinjitzu Brothers which shows he actually feels rather upset/angry that his brother and father believe he's turning evil simply because he experiences negative emotions (you know like a normal person) but then after he see's himself in the mirror in book three he goes on a downward spiral believing he's doomed to turn evil and be alone. We don't really know what happens after book four since the fifth and final book never came out but it's easy to assume that the tea didn't work and Garmadon is left all the worse for it coming out of the trip with his mental health in the gutter. We don't know to much about what happens in-between then and when he goes to Chen's Island but we do know that he doesn't seem to have gotten better since in Shatterspin he's still pretty self sacrificing and other people have begun to notice his less than stellar mental state.

Then we know what happens after the war, his mind is consumed and he is left to be less than himself. Even then when he comes back from the underworld we see that he still cares about his son, he kills the Great Devourer, he still wants to be a person. At the end of season two he gets what he wants, he cured, and for the time that he is fully himself for the first time in years he begins to apologize and try to make up for all that he did (even if it lowkey wasn't 100% his fault seeing he was being controlled by an evil snake), but even that didn't last. He dies, or moreover sacrifices himself to save Ninjago from Chen's Anacondrai army, but he dies a good person, he gets a memorial and family that mourns the truest version of himself. And then he was brought back again, ripped from the afterlife but only as half of himself, only the evil side, the side he spent thousands of years repressing until he couldn't anymore and regretted the second he was himself again. Despite that despite the fact it is supposedly only his evil side left he is still trying to be good, with the Garmadon comics showing his desire for redemption and his care for his son even in what he had thought to be his dying moments.

I think this is what makes one of the beginning lines from the Garmadon comics all the more tragic "Who knows what life he may have lived had he not been corrupted by the Great Devourer and cast into the underworld." He might have gotten to live a different life, he may have gotten to be happy and not fear what he might become, he might not have had to die multiple times over, but we'll never know because that's not what happened instead his fate was twisted by something completely and utterly out of his control.

So yeah he's a little fucked up and that's why he's my favorite! Hope y'all enjoyed my long winded rant, I have so many opinions on this man and don't even get me started on how much I hate crystalized for how it fucked up his development from the comics, but uhhh I think that's it!

If you want to you can check out my fic What Doesn't Kill You it's mostly me putting him in a jar and putting him under a microscope lol, other than that I hope yall have a great day/night and I'll see you when I appear from the mist again! PEACE OUT!

[hauntingblue]

Oden's prophecy of young pirates coming to save wano becoming yamato's hope for his freedom.... and him becoming oden because of it.... it's just so good... on the other side luffy taking ace's spot for liberating yamato... I think I hauve covid

[equalperson]

I fucking hate being traumatized because why am I bawling the hardest I've bawled in god-knows-how-long because someone I didn't even like that much berated Me. gasping wailing trembling and snotting over this for several minutes.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[lesbiansanemi]

I'm so tired

[archerstreet]

i want to be the strongest most unaffected aloofest person ever but im literally the weakest saddest cries at every inconvenience type of person and man.

[anaalnathrakhs]

btw my mom said it. she said it to me looking me in the eyes. i told her about how difficult it was for me to get through those family reunions, and she admitted it was very important to her, important enough that she was just going to do it anyway.

[vamptastic]

truly dgaf about traumadumping i do sometimes experience empathy (like, in the crying over a sad story form) but it probably won't go off unless you have an incredibly tragic story are visibly emoting and i already really like you. so it doesn't really stress me out. people talk about fucked up things in cavalier and humorous ways it's how we deal with things. i am not really emotionally phased by discussing most fucked up or personal things in my own life expect for one or two topics that will make me immediately break down, so like who am i to judge. also learning things about people is fun.

[ehlnofay]

in the midst of a little depressive episode at the moment I fear and it's causing me to Ponder... in a weird way I'm almost grateful. like this is UNBELIEVABLY better than it used to be, even as much as it sucks in the moment. I wish I could go back to find myself at twelve years old hiding out in the school toilets and tell them that as long as we stick it out for long enough then one day the outsize bad emotions will be triggered by actual definable events and they'll be a noticeable change from our baseline. I'm not ✨recovered✨ and I don't know if I ever will be - I think I might have spent too many developmental years creating terrible patterns and associations to be able to straighten it all out - but it's Better and I'm able to know that it can continue to get better, too. and that's fucking huge.

[rainbowcarousels]

No need to apologize, a sudden essay was truly all I ever wanted 🥹 it does align quite perfectly doesn’t it? I mean sometimes it’s all about “reading between the lines” as Lestat once said, specially when it comes to characters who are not Lestat himself/the people closest to him at any given time or POV characters, and this is one of those instances where we’re given just enough to do that imo, it’s all there in the timelines like you said. “It just won't change the fact that he had a second chance to do it right this time with Daniel where he had failed before, to not be a blunt object seeking practical solutions and prove he can in fact take care of people without destroying them”, god this is so true, and I think it also ties back to him being a “failed experiment” in his maker’s eyes, and how he’d been conditioned in his mind (by fate, by circumstance) to repeat that pattern. Armand’s sense of identity in regards to who he is to Daniel is a huge thing too and I’ve always HC that at some point during their difficult years and then in their years apart, he probably rationalized it as him only being fit to be his lover but not his teacher in the blood (which of course represented yet another unforgivable failure).

“He's trying so hard in the modern age to make caregiver be a huge part of him and to be seen as someone who keeps his children safe and even if Daniel was safe at the time, I can't help but think it would bother him that his own firstborn had to be cared for by someone else and that maybe Lestat would be the only person he would really admit this to because he would be the one to understand it.” Yes! Reminds me of that great post by @monstersinthecosmos I think(!) that had me nodding along from start to finish where they mentioned (and I’m only paraphrasing lmao) how Trinity Gate, despite having being conceived as a safe place where people could all heal and come together as a family, also ends up being a place where Armand has to live up to a lot of expectations (the caretaker, the teacher, the protector), like he had to in the cult, and then the theater. And not only that but it would also serve as a constant reminder of how when it had mattered the most, with his own fledging, he was not able to do it. Lestat would totally understand Armand and never judge him for it, he’s “failed” in similar ways before and plays a similar role to Armand’s in the present (the only difference I think is the scale, Lestat has made more fledglings than one can count and Armand only has Daniel to dump all of his trauma on, bless) xoxo DA still sad asf but your meta is like chicken soup for the soul ❤️‍🩹

Absolutely all of this!! Lestat is not omnicient, even if sometimes it feels like he is and you have to remember you're a person removed from his stories.

Oooh yeah actually that is an excellent point, it makes it a little bit worse that it's Marius that takes care of Daniel and the whole idea of maybe Daniel would be considered a failed fledgling from Armand adds to the idea of him being a failed experiment himself. It's a generational trauma thing too, I think this is something Daniel is terrified of being seen as something Armand regrets and sees as a failure, but Armand trying to figure out who he is to people is such a big pattern in all of his identites and part of it definitely feels like it stems from feeling like he can't measure up to his previous self in the eyes of his own maker. Like he couldn't even get something that any back alley vampire made on a whim can do properly, that is a spiral waiting to happen even if it's not true.

Absolutely 100% agree that Armand could rationalise it that way, he does tend to seperate his identities and roles as a coping mechanism but I also think it's just another nail in the coffin of feeling like this is his failure. It would have been compounded by living with the day to day of Daniel when he was at his worst and probably wound have caused a knock on spiral which wouldn't have been fair to either of them, but it doesn't make it easier.

Trinity Gate, despite having being conceived as a safe place where people could all heal and come together as a family, also ends up being a place where Armand has to live up to a lot of expectations (the caretaker, the teacher, the protector), like he had to in the cult, and then the theater. And not only that but it would also serve as a constant reminder of how when it had mattered the most, with his own fledging, he was not able to do it.

This just punches me in the gut every time. I hadn't really thought about it in this context but you're right, the scale of it with Lestat and Armand being seen as community leaders in their own right really does echo each other and puts so much pressure on both of them to be more than themselves. They are roles and figureheads but that doesn't leave them with much space to explore their own traumas and identities in detail. Even in their own homes, it's not really about them.

Someone really needs to make a therapist for these folks, they really need to learn some ways to process what they're going through that isn't running away (Lestat) or trying to wear his reputation like armour to protect not only himself but his children (Armand). I think if you sat down and really interrogated why Armand feels the need to protect his own people so intensely, he's been losing them since he was a child and losing himself over and over at the same time and it's why I think it would bother him to have someone else do that for his child. It's become a part of how he sees himself so it shakes his very sense of identity and it wouldbe a fascinating thing to explore one day.

Thank you for soming in and letting me think about this stuff, I appreciate getting the chance to really look at it in detail!

[justinefrischmanngf]

my family . i love them . but good god .

[batemanofficial]

i need weed. i need a medical card so bad or im gonna go out of my fuckign GOURD

[wisteryuu]

vent in tags don't mind me

[running-in-the-dark]

went to bed early and woke up before 8am today! pretty cool. except I woke up with a bad headache and eventually had a very long nap.

I'm just so damn tired! like, no matter how much or how well or when I sleep, I'm still tired all day. so it's just pointless trying to fix my sleep schedule (when I'll just be asleep most of the day anyway).