#that good old way

[howaboutcastiel]

That Good Old Way 2

Summary: You and Joel have a talk about the future. Previous Chapter.

(I decided to use a gif of Peña because this is 40 year old Joel and I wanted The Vibes)

Content: !!! This chapter is from the reader’s perspective and it features a lot of negative self-talk as well as expectations of abusive behavior from Joel. There’s also talk of firearms and use of firearms. Let it be known here that I am NOT an expert when it comes to guns and the advice mentioned is a combination of google searches and cable TV quotes. 

Maybe boredom was getting the best of all of you. The supply runs quickly extended from half-day trips to twelve-hour ones, where two members of the group would leave on horses at first light and return shortly after dark. If it wasn’t Joel and Tommy, it was the lovebirds out looking for food and gear. Out of the immediate radius of the village, there seemed to be plenty to pick from, but it wasn’t without its danger. 

Everyone in the group had managed not to sustain any more serious injuries, but it was clear that venturing further from your temporary farm home meant facing all sorts of new trouble. The village may have offered a layer of protection from raiding parties and groups of infected, but their reach only spanned so far. As it was, your farmhouse was at the very edge of their influence. Exploring closer was neither desirable nor likely to reap much benefit, and exploring outward was pushing your luck every day. Tommy had managed to find some root vegetables that could withstand the cold, and lots of ammunition and scrap fabric came in over the weeks, but the loot was nothing special overall. At best, Isobel had finally managed to find you a proper winter coat. 

It wouldn’t be long until it was your turn to tag along. 

This is where you knew you were bound to screw things up. You were surprised that you had made it to this point with as little drama as the party had been through. The death of the ex-marine had been a great challenge for everyone, but ever since that day, there was only quiet. 

No one had yelled at you. No one had laid a hand on you besides cleaning your wounds. No one had reminded you of how useless you were—how incapable of doing basic tasks you so obviously seemed. The only shouting that happened at all was few and far between, and mostly had to do with Joel’s frustration about his lingering concussion symptoms. You gathered pretty quickly that, even though he desperately needed someone to take care of him, he hated the thought of anyone going out of their way to help him with something. Usually, the yelling was nothing more than a quick snap at Tommy for being overbearing. Once, it was to the group in general, after which Mateo all but laughed in his face. Life in the quaint little farmhouse was quiet and cooperative, for the most part. 

That didn’t mean it felt peaceful, and it certainly didn’t mean that you felt welcome here. 

And now that you needed to truly pull your weight? To ride a horse and hold a gun and keep yourself safe from infected or raiders or worse?

You knew that you’d have them begging the reverend to take you back. 

And you knew he’d say yes. He would always say yes. 

The thought made you sick. 

You didn’t know how to ride a horse, and you certainly didn’t know how to wield a gun while you did it. Under the most controlled circumstances, you were a piss-poor shot, and you knew that the pressure of a genuine threat would make you freeze or falter. You weren’t the warrior that Joel so clearly was. You weren’t a soldier, like Tommy. Not a survivor like Mateo or a doctor like Isabelle. All you had to bring to the table now was… wood chopping. Cooking dinner and planting veggies and washing dishes and playing house. As soon as they were ready to leave this place, the party would understand how little you were worth. They would figure it wasn’t worth it to have to protect you all the way to Boston. 

But for now, you were worth it. For now, you were safe. 

And for some reason, Joel was asking for you. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice was that soft, patient tone that it was every time he spoke to you. It was so gentle that you almost wanted to call it patronizing, but you couldn’t deny that you liked it. “Come on in. You can leave the door open if you want.”

You, Tommy, and Joel were still trading off on the two upstairs bedrooms. The past few days, Joel and Tommy had taken the beds while you slept on the couch, which was the boys’ least favorite arrangement. Even Tommy, for some reason, was upset by you sleeping downstairs in the living room. You guessed it was because he was the same kind of stubborn as Joel. As you stepped into the room Joel was staying in, you pulled the door so that it was only open a crack. He sat against the headboard with his head cushioned by his hands. You approached the bed, but didn’t sit down. 

“Is everything alright?”

Joel nodded, his eyebrows turning up into that familiar puppy dog expression. How he could be so soft and so vicious all at once, you could never understand. 

He swallowed. “Just wanted to talk to you.”

Oh. It was happening earlier than you thought it would. Already, he was ready to tell you to get lost. The thoughts raced around in your head. He doesn’t want to carry my weight anymore. They’re mad at me. Joel’s mad at me. I’ve done something wrong. I’ve forgotten something. He’s going to scold me, isn’t he? He’s going to yell and scream—

“Not really good at talking,” Joel continued. “But I figured we need to. Seein’ as this arrangement’s… looking more and more permanent.”

You looked at him with what you could only assume was a confused expression, and a beat of silence between you grew into two, then three. Finally, the silence was as uncomfortable as the thought of him yelling. 

“What is it you want to talk about?” You eventually gave him the cue to speak up. 

Joel pursed his lips. His eyes darted around the room uncomfortably without settling on you. Here it comes, you thought. 

“The weather’s finally gettin’ warmer. And even though it’s mighty cozy living in this little farmhouse of ours, I’m thinking we can’t be stayin’ much longer. Tommy’s been dead set on Boston for months now, and I’m sure the lovebirds are gonna be wantin’ for more company than the three of us. That, and…”

You tensed in spite of yourself, readying yourself for the sting of his words, readying your ears for the raising of his voice when you inevitably responded the wrong way to his criticism. His lips turned at the corners while he tried to push the words out. He must be disgusted with me. Repulsed. He must be so angry. 

“That old village of yours ain’t too keen on us sticking around. We thought it wasn’t gonna be a problem, seeing as we’re more than a mile out from that church anyways. But evidently, they know that we’re holed up here, and… they ain’t too happy about it.”

His words were muffled inside your head. “They know we’re here?”

“They’re not gonna hurt you,” he insisted. Joel’s posture had slowly risen until he was hunched forward in the bed, almost like he was curled in on himself, but now he made an effort to straighten his back and raise his chin. “They ain’t gettin’ anywhere near you. Don’t you worry about that. I’m only saying that we can’t stay here in the long term. We’ll need to be leaving soon unless we want the reverend to send some more men to pay us a visit.”

Your head, it wasn’t catching up to what Joel was saying. All you could manage to think first was that he was mad at someone else, not you. It echoed in your head until your brain got around to understanding. Then the anxious feeling in your gut only twisted deeper. 

“…more men?”

Joel’s eyes only widened some more, glaring into you with an expression only discernible as pity. 

“Couple of ‘em cornered Tommy and me yesterday on our rounds.” He pushed the words out slowly, like he was admitting to something horrible. “Said it was time to… to move on. Made it known that we weren’t gonna get another warning. I’m sure you can get some idea of how the conversation went.”

“We have to go now, then.” There was sudden haste in your voice that had Joel shuddering back, muscles sprung. “We need to pack all our stuff—be out by first light.”

“Whoa, easy now.” Joel’s hand shot out to grab at your shoulder, gently pulling you down before you could scramble off of the bed. “Just hold on a second. I ain’t planning on runnin’ with my tail between my legs. We’re not in that big a hurry, sugar.”

You shook your head, a cold sweat forming on your skin. “You don’t know what they’ll do.”

“I think I can just about guess the gist of it,” he countered. 

“Then you know why we can’t stay.”

His hand gripped your shoulder tighter. The contact sent something through you, grounding and more unsettling all at once. 

“I want to make sure we’re prepared for what’s out there,” Joel explained in a hoarse tone. “We got food, sure. We can find game on our trip if we need to stretch our supply. But there’s plenty of danger out there, you know that. Runners, clickers, whole swarms of infected.”

Joel made a disgusted, truly angry face. 

“And people.”

You scoffed, almost a laugh. “Seems you have more trouble with them than the infected.”

Joel ignored your comment. His expression was serious. “I want to make sure we can protect ourselves out there.”

It was your turn to avoid his gaze. You were slowly making your way back around to that realization he was going to have. If he hadn’t found a reason to be angry with you before, this was bound to be it. 

He noticed the change. “I’m not trying to scare you. I know we can make it to Boston. We will make it to Boston. I just need to think it through before we go out in the open.”

“I’m not…” you shuddered. Joel’s hand lifted off your shoulder, barely grazing your skin as he didn’t pull away all the way. “I can’t protect myself, Joel. It’s not that I’m scared, I’m… I’m just not capable.”

He scoffed. “What’re you talkin’ about? You’re one of the most capable people I know. You’ve kept this house together for weeks now. Kept us fed off of scraps I didn’t even know to call food. I’ve seen men twice your size struggle to chop wood like you. And I’ve seen you put up with me. Don’t know why you think you wouldn’t be capable.”

“I can’t shoot a gun.” You pulled away from him. “And I don’t know how to ride a horse. I think I’m gonna be slowing you down, trying to tag along to Boston. I think—I think I can’t ask you to drag me along.”

You expected Joel to agree with you. Or worse, get angry. Scold you for being so useless as to being unable to care for yourself. He only stared at you with a blank expression, though, setting your nerves on fire as you waited. After a moment, he laughed. Really, heartily, breathily laughed. His soft lips stretched across a bright white smile. Dark brown eyes crinkled at the edges and the chuckle that rose from his chest was loud and boisterous. Your heart hammered in your chest. 

His tone was…joking, almost. “Oh, honey. Don’t you ever worry about asking me for a damn thing. I don’t think you’re slowing me down at all. And you can shoot a gun, I’m sure of it. I’ll just bet that no one’s taken the time to show you how. Same with riding a horse. I can’t imagine you havin’ much trouble with that. Our horses already love you. You’ll pick it up quick.”

Your breathing was heavy enough that you could hear it in the gaps between his words. Joel’s face turned soft, less amused and more genuine, as he waited for you to respond to him. When he realized you were having trouble with that, he rethought his words. 

He added, “Let me show you how to shoot, sweetheart.”

Finally, your heartbeat calmed enough that you could hear your own thoughts again. Meekly, you nodded. 

“Good.” He brought his hand back up in front of you. You didn’t pull away, expecting a hand on your shoulder again, but his fingertips came to brush along the underside of your chin. He stood from the bed, making his way to the door without looking back at you. Joel stalled in the doorway for a second, not having heard any movement behind him. 

“C’mon now. No time like the present.”

Slowly, silently, you followed him outside. 

~~•~~

“Squeeze, don’t pull.”

There wasn’t much ammunition for you to waste on target practice, but Joel didn’t seem to mind the three missed shots you’d already taken. An empty can of pinto beans sat on the jagged stump of a willow tree, ungrazed by your bullets. Each time you’d aimed, your fingers had flinched or your wrist had jerked. After each shot, you instinctively hunched lower into your shoulders, expecting him to yell. 

But Joel’s voice was gentle as always. 

“You’re holdin’ the gun like it’s gonna jump out of your hand. Relax into it a little bit, sweetheart. You’re controlling the gun, not the other way around.”

Up until this point, he’d delivered instructions from a few feet away, not daring to step into your space to correct your grip or guide you with his touch. You nodded hesitantly at him, rolling your shoulders and lining the pistol up with the can as best you could. This time, you twitched before your finger even pressed against the trigger. Joel noticed your shiver. 

“If I can’t do this now, how am I supposed to shoot someone trying to kill me?” You tried not to let your voice sound too much like a whine. 

“You’re thinkin’ too much about it.” Joel stepped closer, just within your personal space. “I’m hopin’ it won’t come to you having to shoot anyone, but I know you can do it if you have to. You’ve just got to stop looking at the gun like it’s going to hurt you.”

“It’s a gun, Joel.”

He scoffed. “It’s a gun that you’re holding. You decide who—or in this case, what—exactly it hurts. Now come on, show that tin can who’s boss.”

Your body went rigid when you aimed again for the aluminum can. You forced a deep breath out of your lungs and tried your best to steady your hands. The sound of the shot echoed across the hills, and the dull, cracking impact of the bullet on dead wood tumbled back toward you. 

Joel’s hands were on yours before your heart had the chance to sink into your stomach. 

“Give me this for a second, sweetheart.”

You loosened your grip, allowing Joel to slip the gun out of your hands and into his. When he aimed for the can, you fought the instinct to cover your ears with your palms. 

“Sounds backward, but the more you tense up, the more you’re going to flinch.” He demonstrated a slack, secure grip with both of his hands folded around the gun. Joel held it like it was an extension of himself, the pistol sitting almost comfortable against his fingers. “Once you set your target, you just gotta commit to it. Look here.”

He gave a quick nod, then raised his chin to level his sight with the top of the gun. You stepped back as if it would do any good to lighten the sound of the shot. Sure enough, the bullet sliced the can clean through, sending it tumbling behind the stump. Joel clicked the safety on the pistol, shoving it in his belt to go and set another piece of scrap metal on the wood. 

“Give it another go.” He held the gun out to you and you gingerly took it in your hands. Immediately, you had forgotten the grip he’d shown you. Your hands fumbled around the base for a moment, until one of his snaked underneath. “Remember. High on the backstrap. Lock your wrists, not your fingers.”

He gently guided your hands into place, tapping on your thumb to signal for you to grip inward. Your fingers flexed against the barrel, and he added, “it’s not supposed to be comfortable, but it should feel stable.”

Eventually, you found the position of your hands that most resembled what he’d demonstrated. Joel backed away to give you space and your breath shuddered in your chest before you swallowed it down. You brought the barrel up to your line of sight, settling on the new can. 

A deep breath in, a deep breath out, and your finger slid down from the cage to rest on the trigger. 

Squeeze, don’t pull.

The sound of the shot made your ears ring, but that didn’t matter so much as the heat that spread through your chest and bubbled up in your throat. You switched the safety on the gun and let it rest idle in your hand, taking in the view before you. 

An empty stump, a dented can with a whole in its side lying at its base. 

“There you go, sugar. Told ya you could.” That mile-wide grin was back. His hand cupped your shoulder, closer to the back of your neck than anything. “Reckon with some practice you’ll be just as sharp as any of the rest of us.”

Your eyes lingered on the can. “Holy shit.”

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” His fingers danced along the base of your skull. 

You scrunched your eyes. “How much more ammunition do we have?” 

“Enough to make sure you’ve got the hang of this.” Joel’s hand moved down between your shoulder blades, playfully tapping. “Now hurry along and put another can up there. Don’t wanna be late for dinner. Mateo says he’s making gumbo.”

“Out of what?” You smiled almost as wide as Joel. 

“Got no idea,” he chuckled. “Sure as hell can’t wait to find out, though.”

The sun was starting to dip behind the hills now, painting the sky with orange and pink and purple and red. As the light faded, your confidence grew. Each crumpled can made Joel’s grin brighter, made the weight in your shoulders a bit lighter. By the time he was leading you in to grab a bowl of food, you felt more alive than you had in years. 

Maybe you could ask him to drag you along. 

[hansoeii]

we go just right.

[n4rval]

i lied. here's a bonus.

[marzipanandminutiae]

what's with the weird glorification of smoking that's come back lately

like

I've seen so many posts that paint opposing smoking as some impossibly Loser-ish or puritanical stance and I really don't get it

it makes you, your house, and your clothing stink, destroys your teeth, and gives you lung cancer. opposing it is. Correct. obviously addiction is very complicated and quitting can be hard, but just saying "smoking is gross and harmful as a practice (including vaping)" is True and Right actually

some of you have never grown up hearing about how some beloved family member died a slow, agonized, wasting death of smoking-induced cancer, or watching it firsthand for yourself, and it shows

[4stronautical]

seeing newer HermitCraft fans learning about docs unwavering allyship for the first time is so fun because he has literally always been like this. remember that one time he jumped a guy for calling bdubs a faggot. at a bar. at Disneyland. years ago. doc doesn't lie he IS the goat

[botanyshitposts]

public libraries are so crazy man. like you’re telling me I can read this book for free

[rockingthegraveyard]

Every time Jason has a positive interaction with a kid people will make posts with various panels were he saved or was just gentle with children but it always gets me when when this kid is added

like Jason wasn't talking to him with his hand on his gun the whole time.

Jason is all for protecting kids but he's also like...

[wombywoo]

retired 🩶

[kensatou]

you think YOU had a bad day at work?

bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[tuttle-did-it]

You know, it's genuinely sad to me that aging favourite character actors no longer have any fun murder-mystery tv shows to guest-star as murders on.

[heartorbit]

find another role, carry on the show

[archivebottles]

Happy birthday to the most special girl in the universe!! Wanted to try something ambitious and ended up with the biggest comic I've done to date

[kayshasiemens]

Rising from the dead to share this painting and then disappear again

I have spent over 90 hours of my life on this thing because I have had the brain rot for the last 2 years of my life (almost 20 if you count when I first read the comics) and it had to express itself somehow

Hope this dramatic bitch feels appreciated

(A Dream of Morpheus, handmade egg tempera on panel, 12x18 inches...if by any chance you'll be at SDCC or Gen Con, I'll be at booth 934/936 at the first one and Art Show #13 at the second one - come see the original, maybe get a print, or just yell/cry about Sandman with me?)

And here, have some more details - I had fun combining some favorite elements from both the comic and the show ♡

[aunmenosheteroenespanol]

2.12 Chimney Begins - 2.09 Hen Begins - 2.16 Bobby Begins Again - 7.04 Buck, Bothered and Bewildered

Tommy's family arc

[ohrackham]

It is not what you do for me that makes me love you. It's your kindness. Your empathy. How much you care. Just being you is enough, Colin. I do not need you to save me. I just need you to stand by me. To hold me. To kiss me.