#joel’s and ours now

[watcher0033]

Joel and the girlies at the end of every episode. Me. I’m the girlies. Can’t wait to see Tommy again coz y’all we need that hug. 🥲

[sherlockig]

puck-core

[frenchies-guitar]

throw-back to that one panel when nathan was particularly obsessed with joel

i havent seen this gifset done yet so i decided to make one myself

[acolorboom]

What in the homoerotic is going on with them jeez

[smoozie]

Scar and Martyn doing the worst they've ever done during Wild Life 😔

[consultingfujoshi]

henry telling joel the story of how he informed fedra about the leader of the resistance so he could get the medicine he needed to save sam, and seeing joel's entire face and demeanour change as he starts to understand who henry is and how similar they both are. joel initially not trusting henry because he's a rat, but once the full context is given to him, he tells henry it's not fair on him for so many people to want him dead for what he did. joel not questioning why henry would betray so many people for his brother, because he knows he would do exactly the same thing in his place. henry DIRECTLY making joel ask himself the question "what is more important: the world, or the one person you love? your honour, or your family? when it comes down to it, how many people will you hurt to make sure she's safe?", and you can just see that joel immediately knows the answer.

[soulreader05]

Pedro Pascal Characters: *Just Existing.*

Me and my kid ocs : That’s our dad.

[sp00kymulderr]

our house of flames

Part 1 - Spark

series masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: M, heavy details of grief, blood, implied canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts, injury, trauma, reader is dealing with death of a loved one, general sadness, kissing. Please let me know if I missed any.

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Years after the outbreak the unthinkable happens and you lose the person who means the most to you. You’ve chosen to give up when Joel Miller finds you and decides to take you in, but is he the best person to help you deal with your grief?

A/N: Whilst this part is M rated, future parts will be very much 18+. This was meant to be v simple pwp but became a different beast entirely oops. If you like it please please comment and/or reblog. To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates​ or see taglist details on my masterlist

When Joel had found you, you’d thought it was the end.

In some ways you’d hoped it was.

In the years since the outbreak, everything had changed – you’d learnt to fight, to fend for yourself, to trust few and to hold on to those you cared for with everything you had. That was how it had to be now, so different from before. Those people – the ones you loved – had dwindled dramatically over time. Most were lost to the cordyceps, some to hunters or raiders until eventually it was just you and her, your closest friend through life and hell.

You’d spent over a year just the two of you, drifting from town to town looking for somewhere safe, secure, somewhere to rest your heads for more than a few hours. You’d heard rumours of strongholds you desperately wanted to find, but with the infected population increasing by terrifying numbers it was becoming more and more impossible to imagine a haven in this new world.

So while you’d searched and tried not to yearn for what you might find you’d both learnt instead to survive as ghosts, to keep quiet and out of sight – alive and uninfected.

Until you’d made a mistake.

One that cost a life.

Joel had found you blood-stained and afraid, stuck still in a state of shock. You were shivering violently, huddled down next to a body that you couldn’t seem to look at. Blood on your hands, blood on your clothes, it was starting to pool in the snow. The sticky red of it was making you sick. A gun lay thrown to your other side, muzzle partially buried in the snow.

Your breath ragged, puffing out in white clouds as you heaved with panic, and he had looked at you with cold eyes as you shuddered on the icy ground. You were more than sure that he was another threat – another monster – but you were too adrift to run for your life, too lost now to find a way out of this.

You had sobbed, pathetic and broken, and waited for the man to kill you. You thought perhaps it was all you deserved, to die here beside the last person you had cared about. And the man did aim his pistol at you, his first instinct taking over.

Holding up your hands in defeat, those red stained traitorous hands of yours, you watched almost lifeless as he rifled through your pack. You sniffled, the flow of tears streaming steady down your cheeks.

So this was what surviving had gotten you.

“Please” you had sobbed and wiped your cheeks, smearing them red-tinged. He had placed the pack back down having not taken anything from it. You had nothing he needed you guessed. You had nothing, after all.

“Please” again, and truthfully you didn’t know if you were asking him to end your life or spare it.

He’d looked at you then, properly, and you felt you saw pity in the eyes of this stranger. He remained pointing the pistol at you but something had made him hesitate. For a few moments there was only the puff of your still panicked breath, his much calmer and floating above you in disappearing wisps.

“You bit?” he asked, and was clearly relieved when you shook your head. “She was bit, right?” he waved the gun in the direction of the body you dare not look towards.

“She was...she...we were so careful. We were – She just couldn’t outrun them…” you couldn’t say it, not fully, but the missing parts of your words provided the answer for him.

You’d looked up at him then, with wide eyed fear from the horrors you’d seen and watched the man take a long breath, thinking something over.

“I’m sorry” he murmured, hesitant. You braced for the kill shot then, but all that had come was a sigh as he lowered the gun.

He extended a hand, it had shocked you – scared you more than the thought of dying. You flinched, and he just stayed like that, offering his help.

“It’s alright” he muttered “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Looks like you’ve already been through hell” he looked to the scene before him. The blood and the tears and the discarded gun somewhere to your left.

You had finally, nervously, taken his hand and let him pull you up from the ground. You didn’t look behind you, but you saw him eye you and then reach down for your pack and the gun that you never wanted to have to touch again.

“You got anyone else...anyone waiting on you?” he asked, and you saw a sympathy in his eyes when you shook your head timidly.

“Why...why are you helping me?” you questioned cautiously, voice barely there. You had screamed it away.

He didn’t answer, just handed you your pack – but not the gun – and told you “I got a place to sleep, sheltered, gonna be there a few days hopefully before I move on again. You can come with me, while you get your bearings”

“I don’t understand” you stood away from him, wary and confused and he just waited, too calm.

“You’ve been through something. Way I see it, leaving you on your own out here to die – that would be cruel...there’s infected out here, and worse. I’m not blind, you’ve given up fighting – you’re scared and alone. I’ve got enough humanity left in me to know you need help” he had shrugged and started walking.

And maybe it had been foolish, but you followed him. Because what he’d said, how he’d said it, it sparked something in you.

Hope.

If only you’d known how dangerous hope could be.

***

Three weeks later, and you were starting to feel like a person again. Not the person you had once been, no, they were never coming back to you. But more than a husk, with perhaps at least part of your soul intact.

Beyond all odds, the man had spared you. He had helped you, taken you back to shelter and patched you up. Sure, he’d checked you for bites – never quite believing your words for himself – and it had been humiliating to let him inspect you like that but you couldn’t blame him for not trusting you.

Trust was earned, and not often in a world like this one.

“You’re good” he had said, passing your clothes back, and though you hadn’t quite found relief in that you were at least grateful he wouldn’t put you down the way you had had to…

He hadn’t spoken much, in those few weeks between finding you and now. His name was Joel, he had told you between bites of some miserable canned beans, but that was about all you got from him in the first week. Slowly, ever so slowly you had earned tiny snippets of information from him, but it all felt trivial in the shadow of whatever agony he must’ve lived through to be here now. Everyone had gone through something, and he wore his woe like a heavy cloak that he had no choice but to bear.

You learned that Joel was gruff, controlled, clearly capable of enduring on his own, but there was something else to him too – a sadness you knew better than to talk about. A part of him was missing, you could feel it in everything he did and maybe it should’ve scared you but he had saved you, and you would always see that in him first and foremost.

He was ruthless, too. And you realised very soon that you had been lucky in your fate with him. You  learnt quickly of his ferociousness, his base violence, when some raiders had caught up with you and his eyes had gone black – soul leaving him as he did what he had to to survive. You tried not to think about it, about how he surrendered his humanity in those moments of blood and pain and horror and did what needed to be done. He was like another person entirely, you wondered if he even realised it sometimes.

It is all about surviving, though. You see that now, being alone in a way you haven’t been in the last 10 years. The goal now is only to survive, and you could do that with violence like Joels or you could die...or worse. You know in reality he isn’t good, but really what is good now? Does it even really exist? In the time before the outbreak it had all seemed so clear cut but now the morality of good and evil was so blurred and frayed at the edges, the word had so little true meaning to those still breathing. You know he would’ve killed you if he had to, if you had given him a reason, but still it is difficult to be truly scared of his brutality when you know he is the lesser of many, many worse things out there. So maybe you could not call him good, but his heart persists in spite of his wrongs and that matters the most.

Besides, the moments he didn’t have to be steely and cold he happened to be quite nice. Certainly not sunshine and rainbows, but he looked out for you while you travelled together. And even though he was no conversationalist he never once let you feel left completely alone. In his own way, he was kind and caring and full of compassion that he perhaps hid from himself. Every day since meeting you had felt this string of connection forming between the two of you, barely seen thing string but it was there. It felt like you shared something deep, something between your souls that you didn’t expect to find anywhere other than with her. It terrified you.

Every few days, you moved to a new location. He had told you he was travelling north, and you’d said you’d leave him soon but you both knew you weren’t going anywhere, just sticking along for the journey. You had no where else to be after all.

Tonight, you’re staying in another abandoned house in what was once a small, active town. It’s empty, everything is empty, and even though you know no one is coming back to the house it feels like a violation every time you step inside what had once been a home. It makes you shiver, walking through the dark rooms with the dust lining everything, rising and settling as you move through. Once upon a time, not really that long ago at all, the place might have been full of light and dreams and life. And now it is a roof over a head for you and Joel, a place for you to lay your head and pray not to dream or die.

“Hey” you hear him call in that low voice from another room “Boots. Should fit you”

“Score” you make your way to the bedroom, where he’s holding up an old pair of walking boots that, yes, look about your size. They’re tatty but wearable, and your current shoes are in dire need of replacement.

You sit on the bed behind you, sinking on to the soft mattress, and pull off your shoes to try on the others. It feels wrong, but you have to remind yourself no one is ever coming back to claim them. Joel doesn’t seem to have those thoughts, and you envy him for it.

He smiles as you tug on the boots, just a small smile but it sends something jolting through you.

You look at him for a moment, as he busies himself with checking through the rest of the room for any supplies you can use. Joel is handsome, there is absolutely no denying that, even with the dirt and the sweat and the scruff. He looks tired, desperately so, but even so his dark brown eyes have this shine to them, and his smile though rare is a gorgeous thing. You’ve thought about him, of course you have. When you had met you hadn’t noticed it but the more time you spend with him the more you see him. The more you feel for him. He is beautiful.

You feel a pang, and it’s horribly like guilt, as you think of him like that. Is it wrong, so soon after losing someone, to want someone else in your life? It feels wrong, like sin even though doesn’t make sense. You’re relationship with her had been full of love but it had only been platonic, yet it still feels like...like you’re being selfish, letting her go. It feels like a great betrayal and it stabs you through the heart.

In a moment the grief spills like a mighty flood threatening to consume everything in it’s wake. You stop still in tying the laces of the boots as you feel your breathing quicken in panic. There’s a sting in your eyes but know you wouldn’t cry yet. You can’t breathe, but you won’t cry. Can’t cry. You call the tears back in. Those tears are saved for when you are alone; in the moments when you wait for him to come back from a hunt or a scout, when you sit on the forest floor or on a sad, dusty, long-forgotten chair on your own and panic at the feeling of being by yourself. That is the time for misery, not here. Not now.

“You ok?” he turns to you concerned, noticing the change in your demeanour.

You clear your throat and nod, comforted by the way the tone of his deep, sad, voice speak volumes more than his words do. He worries about you, he does. He cares about you, even though he probably doesn’t mean to. It helps, calms you a little.

You’ve both kept your distance for all these weeks, only close when you need to be, but when you don’t answer he comes to sit right besides you. He’s warm. His body is warm. You’ve felt it at night when you share a bed or when he was showing you how to shoot better, but right now he’s just sitting there besides you his shoulder gently bumping yours and you feel the sweep of comforting warmth.

“I’m fine. I just…They’re good boots”

He lets out a grunt of a laugh.

“They must be damn good” he smiles barely but doesn’t press for a real answer.

The grief is a monster that holds you by the throat, and you are relieved he doesn’t make you give name to it.

Joel knows all about not talking about your pain, after all. You feel it every day and every time things get even a little more personal between the two of you as you slowly slowly inch closer together. He’s holding back on something and trying so hard to pretend it’s not there but what he doesn’t seem to realise is it’s always there. In those quiet moment where you’re just sitting, just trying to get through another harsh night.

***

Tonight you agree to share the large bed with the soft mattress in this house that will never again be anyone's home. He never insisted but you agree it’s safer if you’re both trying to sleep that you’re not separated. Usually you’d split a watch shift and sleep alone but you’ve been walking for miles, you’re sore and tired and miserable in your own little ways.

So you share the bed and to being with you keep your ever-dwindling distance as always but tonight...tonight is different. You drift a little closer than before, unintentional but god you just need the comfort of human touch or something right now. Your body begs for it ever since that crashing wave of heartache engulfed you earlier.

You’re filled with the need to erase that feeling. To replace it with something better, something warmer and kinder. It scares you how much you crave to feel his hands on you, how much you want him to wrap his arms around you. It scares you because you’re not even sure if you can face it – intimacy – or the rejection of it.

Still you move closer and you feel him move on his side of the bed...closer or further away? You can’t bring yourself to look.

“Joel?” you whisper after a breath, hoping he’s sleeping.

He kind of grunts a response and you don’t know what to say next so you don’t say anything. The air moves around you in gripping quiet.

“You alright?” he asks in to the silence, the enveloping dark.

He waits for your answer and you lose yourself in his steadiness. How does he do it? How does he manage to appear so composed even when you both know he isn’t? You want to cry or scream or rip your flesh from your bones. Something to stop all this noise in your head.

Silence still and he doesn’t move, doesn’t ask again. You think he’s probably settling back in to sleep and maybe you should just leave him be.

“Does it ever hurt less?” you whisper and your voice shakes. You regret it immediately. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about things like that, he’s never even brought up the past.

He sucks in a breath, quiet, but doesn’t answer and you curl in on yourself. The desire to run floods you, the desire to be anything but you; to be strong and unaffected and more like him. You feel the prickle of tears in your eyes and it makes you hate yourself, hate your grief and your guilt and her for making you hurt like this.

And then you hate yourself even more.

“I’m sorry, darlin’….Wish I could lie to you but..” he sighs and you feel the shift of the mattress as he turns towards you. After a long pause and what you think is a hitched breath you feel the press of his large hand at your waist. “It’ll hurt forever”.

“How…” you force back the tears “How do you live with it?”

“You keep trying” his voice is thick with compassion and something else, “You find a way”.

You just nod and let him pull you closer, his body curving around yours, the weight of his arm over you making you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. You wipe away those treacherous tears and focus on just the feeling of him. It’s more than you had imagined. More than you’d dared to think about. His breath is warm on the back of your neck and it floods every part of you.

He lets out a sigh that sounds like relief. You feel something in him start to relax, just a little.

You want the pain to go away so desperately, at least for this moment. And so does he.

And so, he turns your head gently, thumb under your chin. You feel it leaving you already, some of the anger and pain. His face is above yours for maybe three seconds that feel like an eternity and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, his lips are chapped but it doesn’t bother you. The kiss envelops you and the air around the two of you shifts.

Everything is pulled away.

Even if just for the briefest moment, he helps you let it go.

[lauronk]

what it feels like to wake up to a fic inspired by one of your own and gifted to you by THE @captainredspade

brb crying 😭

[crossbackpoke-check]

the pics of morgan and joel are from travis sanheim's wedding this weekend!

^^^me experiencing the one-two knockout punch of “oh they WERE each other’s wedding date” followed by the realization that sanny finally got married 🥹😭 cheers indeed!!!

[candied-cae]

All I have to say about tonight's episodes is that I deserve a new Frenchie song RIGHT GODDAMN NOW

I have been waiting oh so very long, looking forward to my little guy's delightful little jams, and now that The Revenge isn't just the most depressing boat sailing across the Caribbean, he better put that fucking lute in his hands and get to work.

I need a new sprightly little pirate song to play when I need a dopamine hit. Please, Frenchie, have mercy on me.

Please, David Jenkins and Joel Fry, have mercy on me.

[renegadeknight]

ooooo so interested in Treacherous!!

Okay this one is still very much an outline/mess of notes so I don't have any snips to share and it's probably the one I'm most shy about, idk why exactly, just feels like it would be less interesting to other people, so I'm just vibing by myself lol.

Anyway! It is an Anna!Lives AU where she ends up as a FEDRA lab rat for ~10 years and escapes right after Marlene finds and sends Ellie off with the fireflies. So then Joel and Tess take Anna to try to catch up at the state house but they miss them. Tess still gets bit (sorry) and then it follows Joel and Anna across the country to try to track down Ellie and as they spend more time together Anna keeps telling him more and more about little Ellie from when they were together a few years before they got separated. By the time they catch up to Ellie, Joel's ready to level the hospital for a kid he hasn't even met, and her mother.

Fun fact, I actually mentioned this one in an earlier chapter of Stubborn Love. It's one of the books Ellie gets at the library 😁

Thank you for the ask!

[gxlden-angels]

I need Americans that were never Christian™️ to realize that the average conservative cult christian's thoughts are basically that one episode of Spongebob where he gets elected Hall Monitor and gives a speech with "Crime and Punishment. Punishment and Crime"

[whoslaurapalmer]

my brother (still the incomparable joel vandelay) is a cartoonist and previously kept up webcomics for some time but as far as I knew the past few years he hasn't really been posting anything, but the reason he brought his computer over last night was so that he could work on a comic and I'm so excited!!! I have, barely seen any of it, bc like me my brother is very, secretive over Unfinished Art (and even Finished Art), but I have seen A Few Lines Be Created which is so thrilling bc he'd rarely let me watch him draw before and I love watching people draw I love seeing a thing take shape I love seeing people I love create things

[mariatesstruther]

thinking about the millers tying maria’s snow boots for her when she gets too pregnant to reach her laces 😭🫶🏾

[justbonusstagethings]

SPARKLY SPARKLY SPARKLY JOEL

(also posted on my newgrounds) — submission from @nyahkufluffy

omg how did i not get a notification on mobile and only *just* now saw this, a CRIME!!!!! bc this,, is beautiful……