#it’ll right itself

[liatorii]

WHY AM I SO TIRED ALL THE TIMEEE anyone with like- potassium deficiency, does taking the supplements work for you?

[glitchgh0sty]

Your honor,, they are adorable 😭<33

No explanation necessary,, just two little beans having a moment TuT🫶

[whatohitsonfirewelp]

People will look at that episode and be like isn’t not bad writing.

When it IS.

It’s astounding to me how many of you don’t understand how important it is for a show to follow the format that THEY create for themselves.

It’s also fucking insane how many of you are so casually racist. You don’t even REALIZE it.

Eddie not being there is HUGE. He’s been a main character for over five years, and he wasn’t there.

The fact that we might not even get to see him find out out is HUGE.

And not in a good way.

The bad writing isn’t new.

But to see some of you act like this isn’t actually bad is weird.

I saw a post that said they don’t watch this show for good writing, and that’s actually so fair. Because this show does have shitty writing.

But there comes a time when the writing is just and, and when it’s straight up harmful.

Erasing characters of color to make room for a white racist man is harmful. That’s no longer just bad writing.

It’s not normal for a show do to such a huge tone shift so late into its run. You know what that means?

It means they aren’t listening to their audience.

It means they felt that the shock appeal mattered more.

It means that we should expect more storylines like this.

I have no idea who first thought this was a good idea, but it isn’t.

911 is close to being around for a whole decade, and they’re actively losing viewers.

Keep in mind, at least people like us had an idea of what was coming. The general audience didn’t.

For them, a character they’ve seen since episode one was just killed off.

These are viewers who have stayed watching for the past seven seasons, who were always aware in some form that no matter what happened, these characters would come.

And this just changed that.

People who are saying they’re surprised this hasn’t happened soon, you’re right. It should have. It really really should have.

If they had a main character death early on, at the latest in season 3, this wouldn’t be so insane. But the waited until season 8.

You don’t do that

You don’t randomly change the shows format. That’s not how you keep people watching.

People like us, we’re more emotionally invested for one reason or another, but the general audience?

Who watch his show primarily because they know Peter and Angela’s name?

Who watch this show because it gives realism less in a medical and emergency sense but more in the how people deal with things sense?

But despite that realism, it was also just fictional and safe enough from the genuine real world that the main characters always made it home?

Because shows have significantly lost viewers before for deaths that fans just didn’t. Like. Hell, sometimes these weren’t even the first big deaths, but it crossed a line with fans because that was a character they cared more about.

Not only is Bobby the first main character to be killed, he’s played by a someone who had the name to bring people into this show in the first place, and he’s a fan favorite within the general audience.

I’m so serious when I say what they did was fuck themselves over. And they better get their shit together for season nine in how they handle things or else viewership will go down and at an alarmingly fast rate.

We have to remember too that at some point, fans, including the general audience, want their characters to be happy.

Bobby’s dead. There goes that.

Athena lost the love of her life AGAIN. At some point people are going to get tired of that. Of seeing Angela Bassett be broken hearted because they won’t let her character just be happy.

I don’t trust them to actually handle the story well of what happens. Especially because Tim can’t commit to anything. Can he really commit to the grief? Or will he be quick to shove something else in there before the audience is ready?

What happens when he decides Athena should find love again?

[justkillingthyme]

Grips the table. I have brainstormed (read: woke up at 3) and now have a good portion of the hanahaki au planned

[sunmisbf]

i wish i could beat my best friend’s boyfriend w a baseball bat

[white-weasel]

I am staring DIRECTLY at Film Reroll Luke Skywalker watching and anticipating his next move

[apotelesmaa]

The ideal start to lmk season five is swk and MK get to Have A Conversation without the world being on the verge of ending (therapeutic) and maybe a B plot where mei trains with macaque and they end up being the reason the city has to be rebuilt for the 9000th time (also therapeutic)

[buildoblivion]

see, the thing about GO s2 is that I genuinely believe it needed another go over in the script editing/ final cut stages because watching it as a whole makes the story feel so bloated and meandering - the tone is massively off from the very tightly written first season, lacking focus and not quite capturing the same wit or wisdom that the OG series and the book achieved

but then I see a little moment on a beloved mutual’s gif set and my whole heart goes 🥺😭💕🥰

[milo-is-rambling]

I dropped a fucking tooth pick into my bong on accident

[ripeclementine]

i cant sleep:’( my schedule is gonna be so fucked

[falindankovsky]

Head in my hands nobody even knows about Falin and Lara’s friendship….

[monkeybone2001]

who up having hearing issues. lol

[riddlesrose]

kissin him stupid

w/ the housewardens

in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.

(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)

note; malleus' is the shortest but the most full of love i swear to goooood but the post itself is quite long

part two!

if riddle could form a proper sentence right now, he might scold you for slacking off, or breaking rule six hundred and seventeen, or he may just ask you to do it again. if colours could speak, his face would scream in comparison to the red accents in the housewarden’s room, uniform and matching hair. 

you attempt to keep a sober expression but he seriously cannot be so flustered by a single kiss? the red lip stain on his cheek is bright against the flush of his cheeks, as he sputters vowels and consonants, attempting to speak, to protest, to ask you what in the queen’s name are you doing.

you invited riddle over to the ramshackle dorm under the guise of needing help with studying, but you had this motive the entire time. riddle could feel your rebel to his help and directions if he ignored the obvious fact you hadn’t even cracked the spine of your book yet (to be fair it was only assigned today, and it was a new book), and the devious smile you attempted to hide until now. 

riddle took a breath, finally feeling sensible enough, “what… was that.” 

“affection, riddle. this isn’t new.” you shot, tone dripping in sarcasm. 

“yes, my rose, i know that. i mean,” he grabs hold of your uniform tie, drawing you closer, “what’s with the lipstick?” your head probably could have exploded, where did this riddle come from and how can he be drawn out more often?

you press a swift kiss to riddle’s other cheek, thanks to the proximity. “i have no explanation,” you press another kiss onto his forehead, “i simply was gifted it,” a kiss to his temple, “this morning.” the grip riddle has on your tie loosens completely as it falls back onto your chest, slightly wrinkled from the force. 

“i just had this ironed!” you frown. 

“i-i’ll get it done again.” riddle stands, brushing invisible dust off his jacket, though nothing could distract from the shade of pink that covers his face. 

“you’ll iron my tie for me? how kind.” you wrap an arm around riddle’s waist, pulling him close. he drops his forehead against your chest with a thud, inaudibly mumbling to himself. 

you wrap your other arm around him as he takes your face between his hands, slightly squishing into your cheeks he drags your face to his height, kissing you feverishly. 

“where did this riddle come from? i like him.” 

“i just felt… bold i suppose.” riddle’s red tinted lips smile against yours.

“do it again!”

leona stirs underneath you. you’re sat, straddling either side of his hips, weight pressed on his defined torso. leona doesn’t know it but you’ve practically trapped him where he sleeps. where he’s asleep currently, that is. in your dorm. 

on your couch.

using your pillows, taking in the setting sun like a true feline, though you would never dare utter the word feline anywhere near him lest you face the wrath of a moody boyfriend. 

you silently laugh to yourself, leaning down and pressing your lips on the prince’s temple.

leona stirs again at that, attempting to roll over – he cracks an eye when you gasp. slowly, coming to his senses, he furrows his brows at your positioning. you weren’t there when he fell asleep, when did you do that, and why are you sitting on him with half of a sinister smile across your lips…

and when did your lips turn red? he brings a hand up to rub his face, trying to shake the sleep out of his fogged mind, but you catch his hand before it makes contant. 

“don’t, it’ll mess up all my hard work,” you say with a half hint of embarrassment. (just a hint; only because you were caught before you could slip away undiscovered.)

leona’s confusion increases, as he detaches your hand from his wrist. he takes his freed hand up to your lips and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, smudging it further across the line of your lip.

he inspects his red finger, “is this… lipstick?” you purse your lips in an attempt to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your chest. he looks ridiculous; eyes half lidded, nose crunched in focus and red marks painting his face.

your tinted lips curl upwards slightly into a smug grin, “maybe?” if leona knows one thing, it’s smug grins. he matches yours and wipes his thumb on your cheek, smearing the lipstick off his thumb and onto your skin. 

you playfully swat his hand away and lean down to continue painting your masterpiece, placing another kiss on his skin – onto the spot between his eyebrows. leona’s hand find your hip, giving a teasing pinch to the side. 

leona may be a prince used to some pampering, but this is some treatment he could get used to. 

azul has a finger in every pie, as riddle likes to say. you’re very much aware of that as your boyfriend likes to talk your ear off about his investments, new opportunities and the lounge. you’re so very proud of all of his hard work but sometimes he gets off on a tangent that doesn’t stop until you make him. usually with a kiss. it flusters him just enough that he forgets what he was going on about and it works every time. 

this time, however, was a bit different. azul didn’t take notice of the hue change of your lips as you leaned in and shut him up. drawing back, you snicker at his pursed lips and flushed cheeks, and the red lipstick smeared around his lips.

azul peeked in your direction, curious. you usually find it funny when he’s flustered like this but you were laughing a little too much. he noticed the messy red lipstick and furrowed his brows, wiping a finger across his lips. 

you suppressed a smile as you watched him curiously examine his stained finger, “it’s lipstick.” he concludes. 

“well… obviously? i thought that would have been pretty clear,” you grab his hand, wiping the red off of his finger. 

before azul can retort you lean in to kiss him again; anywhere you can get your lips on before he shells himself away, utterly embarrassed. a kiss to his cheek, jaw, forehead, nose, other cheek, forehead again, has him sputtering, almost begging to be released. 

azul places his free hand on your shoulder, trying to push you away while laughing between breaths. when you do back up, leaning back on your hand, he almost looks sad. (as if he wasn’t actively trying to get you off!) 

“so, mister ashengrotto? feeling loved and appreciated yet?” you give him a toothy grin, watching as his face contorts from flustered to even-more-flustered. (if that’s possible.)

“well yes! i dare say i’m feeling very valued and cherished as well.” despite his rosy features, his voice is unwavering, full of conviction. 

his confident, put-together outer layer completely melts away when you’re alone with him, but this has him absolutely on fire, a feeling no number could replace. numbers can’t give affection, you give it tenfold in their stead. 

kalim’s permanent grin widens when you claim you’ve got a gift for him. he expectantly holds out his hands, making you shake your head. 

“it’s more of an eyes closed kind of gift,” you start, kalim instantly squeezes his eyes shut. he puts so much trust in you that you worry jamil has eyes everywhere. everywhere. but you brush the jesting idea away, believing that you wouldn’t even be allowed on scarabia grounds if jamil didn’t trust you with the housewarden. 

you turn to a nearby mirror, passing the tube of red lipstick over your lips. the smooth makeup applies nice and neatly. (doesn’t matter because you know it won’t be neat for long.)

you step back over to where kalim’s sitting on the edge of his bed, standing between his knees. he’s waiting not-so patiently, he looks like he’s almost vibrating, is he really that excited? you suppress a smile as you gently grab onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side as you press your lips to his cheek. his laughter immediately fills the room, making you press more kisses over his face. one to his forehead, one on the nose, another on the other cheek, his temples, and anywhere you can get before he’s laughing too much, pushing you away.

“it tickles,” he heaves a breath, “stop!” a wider smile grows on his face after seeing yours, the red lipstick you applied had smudged around your lips, looking not-so neat. his face isn’t much better, tan skin littered in red kisses.

while you’re mentally retaining the image of kalim covered in red lip marks, you notice him looking more intently at you. you raise a brow, curiously.

“my turn, give it here!” he reaches a hand out, expecting the tube of lipstick?

you look at him bewildered, “what?” 

“my turn!” he repeats. he seems real set on returning the ‘gift’ it seems. kalim’s all smiles as you hand him the black tube. he exposes the stick and passes it over his own lips, tossing it aside and pulling you down to his seated height. he flattens his lips across the expanse of your face, getting at any skin he can just like you did to him. 

when he deems he’s finished, you’re dazed and equally covered in red lipstick stains, smiles wide across your faces. matching stained faces for matching blitheringly infatuated idiots.

vil leans on the back of his vanity chair; his face littered in different coloured lip marks. the reason? he claims he wants to see which ones compliment him the most. 

you know he already knows exactly which shades of each brand line do exactly that. (thanks, rook.) vil doesn’t know that you know he’s already figured this out. 

you wipe the makeup remover-soaked cotton pad across your lips, ridding it of the pink. “what would all of your fans think if they knew you were being covered completely in rainbow kisses?” you wipe the moisture from your lips as vil reaches around you to grab another tube, but you stop him. 

“i’m sure they would lose their minds,” you reach into your pocket, revealing a miscellaneous tube of lipstick, it matches none of the previously discarded lipsticks, nor does it have a brand logo on it. “where did you find this?” vil takes the lipstick in his hand, nimbly examining the exterior. he removes the top to reveal a rich, velvety red colour. his eyes widen just slightly. 

“it’s a secret,” you wink and take the lipstick from him and apply it, smiling as you replace its cap and let it fall from your hand, onto a messy vanity behind you. 

vil wraps an arm around your neck, drawing you closer to his seated level, “well, share your secret with me, if you would be so kind.” you swiftly close the gap between yourself and the housewarden, administering a healthy dose of red onto his lips and the surrounding skin. 

he parts first, his cheeks dawn a hint of pink that’s hidden behind the various stains on his otherwise perfect skin. he truly is the most beautiful person ever. makeup or not, hair tied back or loose, vil is sincerely as pretty as the morning's first light, a flower; freshly bloomed, and a fresh set of nails. 

“you’re staring. not that i mind,” you snap out of your hazy daydream about your gorgeous boyfriend and back into reality. 

“yeah, sorry. you’re just really fucking pretty.” you lean down and tenderly kiss his forehead as he internally squeals like one of his fan-girls. he really hit the jackpot with you as his (second) biggest fan.

idia looks up at you with wide yellow eyes, but they have a sort of gloss over them that makes you believe he would not want you to get up and leave his dorm right now. you grin at his feeble attempt of a silent, inconclusive plea. an ask to what, you’re unsure because his face (minus the eyes) and hands grabbing at you tell you he’s very much enjoying you straddling his hips right now.

you reach into your pocket, revealing your master plan. a tube of lipstick, you swipe it over your lips once, then twice before replacing the cap and tossing it down, letting it hit the plush bedsheet you’re atop. 

the translucent tips of his hair start to turn pink as you lean down towards his face. a trembling hand comes up to your shoulder, not pushing you away but seemingly grounding the housewarden underneath you. “how cute,” you smile against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his left cheek, then the right. one more on his forehead for good measure. maybe one more. okay, one last one couldn’t hurt.

you sit upright and drag a hand down idia’s chest, over the sweater you know is probably two sizes to large for him, (but that’s how he likes them you suppose and it just makes for a more comfortable sweater when you steal ‘em) while admiring the definitely not smudge-proof lipstick marks on idia’s face, giggling as you compare the red smears to his blue features. you wonder if-

the rapid rise and fall of idia’s chest catches your attention, it almost sounds like he’s hyperventilating, but when you look up to his face it’s surrounded by fiery pink hair and a flush across his cheeks, spanning down his neck, you realize he’s fine. probably a little more than fine. 

“well, that’s some false advertising,” you smile, wiping at the edges of your lips lightly with a finger. idia snaps out of his stupor, hastily agreeing with a stuttered breath. his hands find your hips, giving you a small squeeze. you lean down and press a proper kiss to his lips, you lift away just as quick as you bent down, pushing idia back down as he chases you up, hoping for more. a pitiful whine escapes him as his hair burns brighter. 

the red lipstick mixes with his natural blue lips gives him a sort of purple that would put the octavinelle’s house colour to shame. though, he almost looks forlorn. the usual solemn and gloomy housewarden; reduced to a blushing mess after a few kisses. 

hilarious, isn’t it?

malleus’s eyes flutter shut, a pleased sigh escapes his lips. his hands, hidden by your sweater, trace messy patterns on your back as his nails scratch lightly. he’s unsure of how he got himself into this humanoid predicament but he’s not complaining. 

you’re sat in his lap, placing kisses all over his face, leaving red lip marks behind. 

“you look like you’re enjoying this more than i am, malleus.” you bring a hand up to rake it through his bangs, pushing them behind his horns and revealing the shiny scales hidden beneath. 

the housewarden cracks a sharp emerald eye, examining your features. the slope of your nose, the curve of your stained lips, your eyelashes, cheeks. your eyes. oh how he loves your eyes, the way they look up to him with adoration, not fear or indifference like other humans do. 

you cup his cheek, “malleus?” 

he blinks once, twice. the gloss over his eyes breaks, refocusing on you. “i apologize, i was lost in thought.” 

“i could tell,” you trace your finger to the tip of his ear, then drop your hand back into your lap. “what were you thinking of? me?” 

“yes.” 

“woah, okay. blunt!” heat rises to your face. 

a hand leaves your back, trailing around your side and up to tuck a piece of hair away from your eyes. “was i not suppose to tell the truth?” 

“no, malleus, you should have said you were thinking of pancakes.” 

“but i wasn’t? i was thinking of-” you cut him off, placing a kiss on his lips. 

“now, let me resume my art.”

malleus is more than happy to sit as still as the gargoyle statues he studies while you press kisses all over his face. he is, truly is.

this was so self indulgent i ain’t even sorry (is my favouritism showing??)

masterlist

[chastiefoul]

waking them up with kisses

ft. nanami, gojo, sukuna, toji short, fluff, light-hearted. honestly such a word-vomit, written while i was half asleep. but hey hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! slightly suggestive on gojo

nanami

there’s a slight smile on his face by the third time your lips made contact with his skin, yet he showed no of being awake to you, who’s still oblivious to his subtle change of expression as you kept peppering soft kisses across his cheekbone. finally a low chuckle escaped him, he just couldn’t help it. “good morning to you too, my love,” he muttered, pulling you who’s still in his arms closer. the warmth of your body as he embraced you sent an unexplainable ticklish feeling to his stomach.

“seriously, it took so many kisses to wake you up,” you said lightly, brushing the strand of his blond hair. such a weird sensation, to be this giddy right after you woke up, but it’s one nanami welcomed so openly. “hmm, i might need even more to be fully awake,” he replied with a teasing smile, closing his eyes. you felt his leg tangling with yours, there wasn’t a part of his body that wasn’t touching yours. like a cat snuggling for warmth.

your hand couldn’t keep itself still, moving from his hair to his cheek. running along your thumb gently across his lashes, and the man suddenly fluttered them open. there wasn’t anything except love as he gazed at you so softly, grabbing your hand as he planted a kiss on your palm. all of it just felt so right, and you couldn’t help but wish that time ticked slower in small moments like this.

gojo

a big grin made its way to his face almost immediately when you started showering the man with kisses. his hair messy from sleep as he lied down, surrendering himself to your attacks; he laughed genuinely, the beautiful sound made you more determined. the mere expression of him being that happy brought you the same if not more amount of joy.

when you finally pulled away there’s a satisfied smile on his face as he opened his eyes. “best morning ever,” he said, pulling you close to his chest, forcing you to rest your head there as you listened to his steady heartbeat. “that’s what you said last time too when i woke you up with a head,” you bantered, there’s a lightness in your chest. he chuckled once more.

“well every morning i start by seeing your face is the best one baby, couldn’t help it,” he muttered, very lightly pinching your cheek as he said this. he then raised your chin with a finger, making you look up at him as he kissed your lips sweetly, moving slowly at the beat of his own drums as he pecked the outer corner of your mouth, and then your cheek. and then there’s just pure mischief on his eyes.

“my turn now!”

sukuna

sukuna indulged himself in a few more of your gentle touches on his face, the softness of it almost made him felt like he was out of place. yet he couldn’t help it, savoring each of your kiss as to making sure he won’t get used to it. finding wonders to every of your move as he cherished it so.

“i’m awake,” he mumbled, thinking it’ll stop you from doing it. but when your response was just to give you more of it he couldn’t help but blinked awake; the sight of you smiling down at him almost made his heart burst. “morning!” you said sweetly, resting the palm of your hand on his bare chest.

“i’m already exhausted looking at your energized-self on the first light of the day,” he claimed, covering your hand with his. “well, we have a date today, of course i’m excited,” you said, the exuberance was apparent on your voice. sukuna looked like he was thinking for a moment before making you lie back down on his arms.

“let me sleep a little longer, then we will do whatever it is that  you want.”

toji

“what’s got you so chirpy, hm?” he had an lazy smile on his face, eyes still closing. his calm expression betraying the giddy feeling in his chest; you were so fucking cute, what’s a man supposed to do? once again you planted a kiss on his lips, right on his scar. there it was again, the damn itch on his chest he couldn’t scratch.

“nothing, just happy,” you replied, drawing random patterns on his chest. “yeah?” he brought you closer with the hand that’s still wrapped around your waist. you nodded happily, snuggling closer to his neck.

toji thought words such as forever or eternity was bullshit until that moment, until he's got you tightly in his hold; all safe and cozy without a care in the world. yet in that split second he wanted it to be true. y’know, just to humor him a little.

“if i didn’t know any better i woulda thought you won a lottery or something.”

but it would be wrong. since he already won it when he met you.

[greatandholypangolin]

so whenever DDVAU comes out I screenshot everything that makes my brain itch and then send it to my friends with an explanation of why the particular bit makes me happy and I was looking through my scrumped list and I was like “oh wait, artists (@kitsuneisi and @xmaruu11 in this case) actually like knowing what people think and like about your art especially specific details maybe possible perhaps” so I’m being brave and pasting exactly what I said to my friends into here with no rewriting for the sake of keeping them as my raw thoughts. Let the post go where it does I guess (all art is from DDVAU if that wasn’t obvious)

Favourite faces collection (impeccable art style that I will never stop complimenting oh my god I love all of the lil fellas)

I like the little pinky/yellow tones or tint or smth it all seems so peaceful and domestic and a little warm and it’ll be absolutely fine and lovely and sweet slice of life for the whole comic right? right? right? right? right? right?

Already said I love how they’ve designed speaking over. It’s just so effortless and clear idk. Also little note of appreciation for grian’s hand, that’s a shitfuckery perspective and a very well drawn hand. Also really realistic and fluid pose?? They’re just incredibly believable characters and movements, sometimes I genuinely forget they’re still frames and not an animation when I think about it. Do you think they actually pose and use that as a reference or do they just know exactly who their blorbos are and how they present themselves without actually acting it out???? Geniuses. Geni-i. Like octopi but. ok I’ll leave I know when I’m not wanted

Look at this happy and relaxed guy with his cousin he’s so himself and at ease. Seeing grian happy and human and totally himself means so much to me (favourite faces collection)

Favourite faces collection

HI CORNER GEM I HOPE YOU FEEL LOVED (me) (I’m the one) (ily corner gem) (and centre gem presumably idk she’s not here)

I know it’s tango. You know its tango. I don’t even need to say it. Camptain ombvious. however I am very happy they included ranchers thank you doody and maru sending you angels wherever you may be

Oh he could be a father so good I don’t usually see things and go “they’re parental potential”, not because they wouldn’t, it just isn’t something that crosses my mind. He, however, would make a great father and this frame made that thought fizz into my head

Thoroughly enjoyable section, made me smile

Love love LOVE how the thing grips the actual corner of his comic panel as it drags itself forwards

I’ve never not been in awe of this comic, but this is one of those times I’m especially in awe. Hi. Hello. Hi.

Love how the room zoom out was used, he looks so isolated and quietly afraid even though you don’t see his face, especially with the speech bubbles drifting around like that. Very well designed top tier 10/10

[majestyeverlasting]

can you write something angst like joel miller and reader having bad argument and joel lost his cool and feels bad and trying to fix it, something like that

your fics are amazing btw❤️❤️

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

pairing joel miller x female reader summary after a tough patrol, joel grapples to accept the one thing he craves but fears the most—love [angst, happy ending, 2k] a/n you're more amazing, anon ♡

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Today’s patrol doesn’t follow Joel home. It fastens itself to his shoulders, forcing him to carry it. Each labored step is a reminder of the long hours spent postured on horseback, rifle slung over his shoulder. If he was twenty years younger, he reckons his body wouldn’t protest against him as often as it does. Unfortunately, there’s no way to chase those years back down. They belong to the past alone, loaned only through memories. 

How he feels at the end of a patrol is a wildcard these days, but he fares better on the mornings he remembers to stretch and when he's man enough to take adequate breaks throughout the shift. 

On days like this, when Joel was paired with fresher, younger guys like Caleb, so many of those wellness practices were disregarded. Being as sharp as possible ensured there were no slower moments that could be taken for weakness. All it took was one second of a lowered guard to be blindsighted. 

Even if Joel wanted to summon a fraction of his youth, he wouldn’t be able to after today. Shouting orders had reduced his voice to a graveled rumble. 

A little past five-o-clock, he and Caleb spotted a group of infected lingering near a fallen body in the distance—a nameless, faceless man sheeted from the most recent snowfall. There was no more breath in his lungs, but it appeared as if he were merely lying there asleep. His puffy blue coat was a pop of color amidst stark white and rogue twigs. 

Caleb insisted on burning the body so the poor man wouldn’t resurrect as the undead. But Joel had witnessed his fair share of courtesies gone wrong. If he didn’t do anything else today, he refused to add the boy to the list of casualties in his consciousness. So he demanded they leave it be. All that mattered was two of them making it back to the commune alive. The man was a stranger after all. And there was no such thing as helping the dead. Not really. 

Even as the Clickers picked up on the trodding of their horses’ hooves, Caleb’s gaze stayed on Joel like he was the monster.

“So we’re just gonna leave him?” Caleb asked. 

Joel dismounted his horse and wrestled his rifle into position. In a quick series of echoing shots, he took down all six infected, their bodies thudding to the snow. A couple ravens fluttered from the treetops, jet black against the pale sky.

“One match, man. It’ll only take a second.” 

“No!” Joel asserted. “We gotta get out of here. Probably just attracted more.” 

So they left him there, face down in the snow. 

By the time Joel crawls up the creaky steps of his front porch, he’s ready to collapse onto the couch, his bed, or any surface willing to catch him. But he won’t sleep because of his buzzing nerves. By some miracle, he sees himself inside, shrugging his backpack to the ground with a weighted thump. 

As drained as he is, the soft shuffling in the kitchen sets him right back on alert. He knew Ellie was at Dina’s tonight, and there was nobody else he’d been expecting over. If he weren’t so on guard, he’d notice the savory scent of garlic and onion in the air. 

The heavy sound of his boots precedes him as he strides into the kitchen. Upon seeing your frame standing at the stove, clad in an oversized knit sweater, Joel freezes in place. The furrow between his brows disappears as if it were never there. You peek over your shoulder with the sweetest smile, and for a moment, he forgets the ache in his muscles. The weariness that feels bone-deep. 

Slowly, however, the crueler side of reality creeps back in despite his efforts to cling to the good. At the very same time, you realize it hadn’t been just another day of patrol for him. There’s a slouch to his shoulders, and slightly bloodshot eyes take inventory of everything around the room while refusing to meet yours. Sympathy is quick to take root. 

You’ve made dinner. He gathers that much, noting a pot bubbling on the stove behind you. His stomach rumbles lowly at the prospect of food. 

“Hi,” you say with a dampened smile. You try again when he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Joel?” 

There’s nowhere to hide since you’re here. He’d anticipated coming back to an empty house where he didn’t have to be perceived. To be seen so intimately. 

A mix of frustration, embarrassment, and unworthiness rise within him to the point where he’s certain he’ll burst. The last person he wants to suffer from the fallout is you. Yet here you are, a selfless presentation that makes him wish he didn’t destroy every ounce of good he touched. 

His attention is intense when it falls on you. An underlying softness tries to prove itself true, only to be engulfed every time it takes a chance. 

“Never asked for all this.” Dinner, Joel means. 

“I know,” you say. “Just figured you’d appreciate it.” There’s a slight waver in your voice as your confidence wanes. 

More of an edge works its way into his. “Didn’t tell me beforehand.”

You attempt to swallow the lump in your throat as it grows in real-time. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

There’s a matter-of-factness to your tone that makes it sound like you’re reading off a script. Like you’ll break through the ice if you misstep. It’s nothing like your usual friendly, laid-back cadence. You’re trying to convince yourself you’re not a stranger. 

“You gave me a key, so I thought I’d use it to do something nice for you.” 

“I gave it to you for emergencies. If something ever goes wrong.” 

A small huff of humorless laughter escapes you. “Why does everything always have to go wrong with you?” 

His sharp, stubbled jaw clenches at the question. 

“Would you rather me be here because I got robbed or because I think I’m being followed?” Your words are soft and steady and all the more piercing for it. “Do we only get to be in each other’s lives when something’s falling apart?” 

Joel takes a step forward. “You’re puttin’ words in my mouth.” 

“Am I Joel?” 

“You are.” 

Your hands fall helplessly by your sides. “Let me be here for you. I want to be here for you.” 

His voice raises before he can check himself, “What about what I want?” 

It’s a question with an answer Joel’s not ready to face. Because it’s you. There was nothing else. He exhales as his gaze flicks to the floor. 

Tears prick in your eyes despite your attempt to to steel yourself against them. “Do you want me to leave?”

Joel’s never heard your voice sound so small. It tears him apart, but all he can say is, “I’m going to take a shower.” 

•••

Fear is a cold, consuming thing. People fear the boogeyman, monsters under their bed—all manner of creatures that lurk when the sun is tucked away. Since the end of the world, few things scared Joel. Tonight, it isn’t the notion of what lurks that scares him. It’s the possibility that when he goes downstairs, you’ll be gone. 

It’s quiet as Joel stands behind his bedroom door retying the drawstring of his pajama pants for the umpteeth time. His thick fingers tremble as much as they had when he was out in the cold. The longer he stalls, the sicker he feels. 

Tommy’s teasing words from a week ago play on a loop in his head. You wouldn’t recognize a good thing if it slapped you ‘cross the face. 

But Joel had recognized you. 

Long before he had a name to put to your unforgettable smile. Before you mosied into his world and made him long to fall into your orbit. Before he ever admitted to himself that this might be love—messy as it is, constantly changing shape and slipping between his fingers. 

Courage eventually finds him by some miracle.

As Joel pads down the stairs, he tries to ignore the lingering silence. All he has are his creaky footsteps as he enters an empty kitchen dotted with signs of life. The table is set, two bowls on either end with the food organized in the middle. But you’re nowhere to be found. Regret sinks like a millstone into his gut, and takes his heart with it. His appetite vanishes along with any hope enduring within him. 

Before he can continue sinking, the back door flings open and you scramble in along with a chill. There’s a saucer in your grip that appears to have food scrapped off of it. No doubt for Juneau, the neighbor’s husky who often wandered by for scraps. 

Joel’s heart doesn’t know whether to quicken in surprise of slow with relief. There’s no question what yours does as you startle and grip your chest. Like you’re not the visitor in his home. As if he’s the intruder. 

“You scared me,” you breathe, eyes softening as you take him in. 

The way he’s standing suggests he’s trying to make himself look smaller. An air of apology hangs around him. There’s so much he wants to say: I don’t deserve this, I’m sorry, I love you.

Only a few gruff words come out, “Gonna catch a cold going outside like that.” 

“Guess it’ll be you cooking for me then.” Your lips twitch with a ghost-like hint of a smile. It’s an invitation into levity that lets him know he hadn’t severed any major branches. 

A stretch of silence passes before Joel says, “Had no right speaking to you the way I did.” 

Then he sighs into a deeper admission, “I’m not used to this.” He swallows thickly as he awaits a response.

“I know,” you finally say.

“But I wanna be. I want this—” 

You cross the distance to wrap your arms around him. He doesn’t move for a fraction of a second. He’s steady as an oak. As certain as the tide. When he does wrap his arms around you, it feels like another chance. A new beginning. Like a home both of you could get to know.  

•••

The two of you share a quiet meal of sourdough and steak and potato stew, sharing soft glances between bites. Joel goes for seconds, then thirds. Seconds because he was modest with his portions the first go round, and thirds because he can’t remember the last time someone labored over such good food for him. It nourishes him past the bone and to the soul, the warm broth soothing his throat as it runs down. Not once do you ask him to talk about his day, and he’s grateful.

Later, Joel helps you clean even though you insist that he sits down and relaxes. Conversation remains light as the two of you stand shoulder to shoulder at the sink, you washing and him drying. It’s a process much like forgiveness: the staining of oneself only to be made clean as if the offense never occurred. Which isn’t lost on Joel. The fog surrounding his conscious lifts as if his own slate is being renewed.

As the two of you finish and dry your hands, Joel peers over at you with a weighted look. You offer a small, tired smile that makes his chest expand with fondness. 

“Reckon I don’t deserve your kindness.” He clears his throat. “Ya keep giving it to me anyway.” 

“I always will,” you promise. 

Joel nods through the wave of gratitude that nearly sweeps him away. 

“I really am trying, honey.” He can’t remember the last time that nickname rolled off his tongue. Tonight, with you, it flows naturally. 

“I know.” 

Anything worth having can’t be gained without a fight. One against the voices of the past that seek to bind everything to the unmoving, unchanging familiarity of the way things have been for so long. Luckily, Joel Miller wasn’t one to back down. He would tear down every wall he built around himself, brick by brick, if it meant reaching you. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

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