#sarah the last of us

[softstarlite]

I don't care what you think, Joel Miller wasn't an angry always grumpy guy pre-outbreak, he was a silly man who lived to joke with his little girl

[goreadabook2102]

“i sell hardcore drugs”

[alicent-targaryen]

SARAH & JOEL MILLER ▸ The Last of Us, 1.1

[mxlktxa]

ꜰᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴛᴀꜱᴋꜱ

ᴘʀᴇ-ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴏᴜᴛ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ; ᴘʀᴇ-ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴏᴜᴛ!ᴊᴏᴇʟ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴡ; ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ 18+ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ

⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱✮♱⋆⋆♱✮♱⋆

“Joel, sweetheart,” I whispered into his ear with a soft, comforting tone, lightly caressing him so he’d wake up, “we have to get up before Sarah wakes up. Don’t want her thinking I’m her step-mother, now do we?”

A low huff rumbled from the man beside me, arms stretching to pull me in to cuddle, tightening his grip as kisses were placed on my head in such a lazy manner. I found this interaction funny, attempting to escape his hold.

“Let her see us like this, I don’t care. She already calls you mom behind your back, it’s fine,” Joel nearly rolled on top of me while he spoke, his raspy voice almost muffled now.

“Well, get up in case she walks in and thinks you’re trying to kill me,” I said. With a slight chuckle, Joel rolled off of me, using his elbow for support to hover above me.

It was the morning after he had asked me over for the night since Sarah had felt a bit down. I came over to cheer her up and talk things out then Joel and I stayed up later to catch up on the crazy few weeks we both had. Now here we are, laying next to each other— surprisingly, still clothed and not hung over.

“That girl loves you like crazy, y’know,” his eyes wandered down to my neck and back up, “she asks me everyday about you. Wants to call and hang out everyday. All the time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Joel nodded at my response, grinning brightly, “then give her my number. If I don’t answer, I’m busy with work.”

“Or napping,” he added that comment, suddenly removing his elbow from below him and plopping down beside me.

“Yes, Joel. Or napping.”

I removed the covers from myself, sitting on the edge so I could stretch freely without accidentally bashing Joel. I stared at the open doorway, seeing a bit of a shadow by the frame, waving to get Joel’s attention. He sat up, noticing the same thing I had taken in observation, creeping up on his feet.

“You know, Joel,” I started, “Sarah might want some breakfast. What should we whip up?” we both crept towards the door, ready to scare and attack the little girl who was eavesdropping.

“Probably just some pancakes or french toast. We could make a strawberry millshake for her too.”

“A millshake?” I questioned, “at this time?” we reached the frame, ready to pounce on Sarah.

“Yeah, of course,” he chuckled, “it’ll be—,” we jumped out at her, the hall filled with screams and laughter, “fun!”

Sarah shrieked at the sudden greeting, pushing herself up the wall and holding her hands in front of her face. Joel and I went crazy with laughter, pulling her in for a hug.

“You guys are so not funny,” she snickered, “I could’ve died, you know!”

“Thankfully, you’re still with us, gorgeous,” she glanced at me with the largest smile and her eyes were overflowing with hysteria, “why were you listening in on us, hm?”

“I was bored! I’ve been up since seven and it’s now eight.”

“Wake us up next time. You don’t have to wait on us.”

“I was scared you two were… doing your ‘forbidden tasks’,” Sarah rolled her eyes as well as crossed her arms. I look to Joel with suspicious, yet annoyed eyes. He gave the same look, a nervous grin on his lips.

“Well we weren’t and how do you know about these ‘forbidden tasks’? You’re never home when it happens?” Joel let out a disturbed chuckle, scratching his neck as he side-eyed me.

“Uncle Tommy.”

The hallway fell silent. Joel and I stared down at Sarah who seemed as if she was looking at an astonishing entity, giving her an offer no one could ever think to refuse. She was ready to bolt, to pack all her things and move away.

We’ve told Tommy that we were messing around but told him to keep his mouth shut about it. Mainly due to the fact that we didn’t want Sarah to assume anything crazy. Granted it was awhile ago when I thought she disliked me but I would have appreciated him not slipping up.

“Let’s go get you breakfast, sweetheart,” I offered the little lady a big smile, turning to Joel to push him to the staircase.

“Do I still get the milkshake?”

“Yes, you still get the milkshake,” said Joel. An excited— barley audible, ‘sweet’ was all Sarah could respond with.

That morning, Joel and I spent about half an hour whipping up some breakfast for the three of us. Sarah was dying to help but it was always Joel and I seating her, wanting her relax since we decided that she was just going to be late for school and didn’t need to do much. We cooked up french toast with some eggs and made a little fruit salad for both her and I. Joel just had some coffee in place of the side us girls had.

Breakfast consisted of delighted, entertaining conversations, a bit of storytelling, Sarah and I ‘bullying’ Joel, and more. It was a nice little get together, Sarah officially calling me mom from this point forward, and Joel sitting back to watch us bond.

After we had all eaten, Sarah slipped off to get ready for school, Joel and I cleaning up the mini disaster we created in the kitchen. I gathered and did dirty the dishes, Joel wiped everything down and swept the floor.

Rough hands were gripping at my hips, a broad chest coming in contact with my back. I laughed at the subtle begging he gave, finishing up the last dish, putting it in the drying rack and turning to me Joel’s benevolent face. I could tell he wanted to both gush about how happy he is with Sarah and I but he also was silently begging to take me back to his bed.

“Joel,” I placed a hand on his chest and the other to his waist, “not now. Tell me what’s on your mind instead,” the urge to hop up onto the counter and just fuck around was undeniably tantalizing but we had to keep in mind that Sarah was home.

“I’m so happy you two are getting along,” his face hid in the crook of my neck, “I’m telling you, if you just move in right now, everything would be perfect for her. She’d grow up so happy.”

“Yes, Joel, I know,” I held back a soft groan as he bit and sucked on my neck, hand snaking around me and letting his lips meet mine. We both let our hands run around each other’s bodies, getting a little more heated by the minute, “Sarah’s home.”

“I’ll call Tommy to take her to school,” Joel huffed into my neck, picking me up to place me on the countertop and move on towards my collarbones.

“That’s just rude,” I joked, trying to stop the situation but only liking how much stronger Joel seemed when I fought back, “we can take her, it’s not a problem.”

“I just wanna go upstairs for a little.”

“Mm, then a little turns into an hour. An hour turns into two. So on and so forth, big boy,” I smirked into the kiss he gave me to shut me up, tugging at his shirt and whimpering a bit.

“Dad!” Sarah hollered, her voice trailing from the top of the staircase to the bottom. We both seperated ourselves, awkwardly clearing our throats and looking to Sarah who’s mouth was slightly open, shocked to have seen a milisecond of our little fun.

“Ready?” I questioned, wiping my bottom lip and hopping off the counter. Sarah only shook her head, coming to give Joel a hug and kiss on the cheek before taking my hand so we could leave, “we’re leaving him?”

“Uhm, yeah? We can have some girl time for a bit. You’ll be back soon,” she laughed, waving to Joel once again before we actually left the front door.

Girl time would be a little nice.

[jinxedgods]

18 year old joel and his pregnant girlfriend deciding to put their baby up for adoption, but when sarah is born joel knows he has to keep her. he knows it’ll mean the end of his relationship with sarah’s mom. the adoptive parents are outside waiting to take the baby. he never set up a nursery or bought baby stuff. sarah’s mom tells him he’s being stupid. but he’s going to keep the baby. tommy enters the delivery room and everything is quiet. sarah’s mom is lying on her hospital bed looking sullen, and joel is sitting in an armchair in the corner holding a little bundle to his chest like someone might snatch it away. and he just says, “i’m keeping her.”

(he also says, “can you go get a car seat from target? I’m taking her home.” joel did NOT prepare for a child. he is simply armed with stupid, irrational, all-consuming love. tommy RUSHES to the store and picks a car seat based off pure vibes because he knows nothing about babies. when their poor mother asks tommy wtf is going on he’s like “joel’s keeping the baby” and keeps rushing around for baby supplies. their mother thinks joel’s decision is dumb as hell, but she knows she can’t stop him. tommy is in shock; he’s operating off pure sibling loyalty. but he’s immediately supportive. just two chaotic siblings trying to raise a baby girl together)

[mrsquill]

Whole World in His Hands

Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller

Summary: Hi! So I haven’t written fic in… four years? I think? So please be nice to me! TLOU broke my heart and put it back together again and stamped on it simultaneously, and I couldn’t get the idea of Single Dad Joel, Uncle Tommy and baby Sarah out of my head, so here’s this!

Set within the timeframe provided by the show however no apocalypse here, baby! So, Sarah was born in 1989. Hope my maths be mathin’!

Notes: I’m not from the States, so I’m sorry if any cultural references are wrong. I’ve also never played the games - so if any backstory is missing/I’ve completely ignored, again: I’m sorry! This is based on the beautiful relationship between Pedro and Nico’s portrayals.

Warnings: Sarah’s mother is mentioned with the tiniest bit of angst, but mostly fluffiness and repairing my broken heart. So please, enjoy!

1997

The sun was starting to set slowly on another stifling Texas evening in August. The plastic grooves of the white garden chair Joel was sat in were sure to leave a mark on his bare back, but he was content enough to stay there forever. He closed his eyes and listened, half-asleep, to the sounds of lawnmowers, kids laughing, dogs barking, and Tommy shuffling around in the backyard.

The radio host announced ‘We Have Forgotten’ by Sixpence None the Richer was next up, and to enjoy, folks. Well, Joel was sure to do just that. The late summer air was soon full of breathy vocals and lilting guitar strings as he adjusted his position slightly in the late golden light, careful not to wake his little girl.

Sarah was snoring lightly, sprawled across his lap in her towel, dark curls damp from a day in the pool they had in the backyard. Supporting her head with one arm, a well-earned bottle of beer rested in his other hand, sunglasses fixed on his nose as the smell of barbecue wafted over. Joel couldn’t be sure his younger brother was actually ever quite full, not even after third helpings of birthday cake.

He’d hosted Sarah’s eighth birthday party that day - admittedly, a month late - and was grateful for it to be over, despite seeing the joy on his baby’s face when all her friends turned up for a day in their pool. The pancakes in bed and wonky birthday tiara had been enough for her to declare that this was the best birthday ever, so the surprise party was the icing on the cake.

Joel and Tommy had actually managed to pull it out of the bag: the thought of 12 screaming eight-year-olds potentially drowning in his backyard was enough to wake him at night in a cold sweat, but his brother had firmly reminded him with a slap on his back: “You’ve kept one alive for this long, brother. How hard can eleven more be for a couple hours?”

Tommy had kept the girls entertained by generally making a fool of himself in and out of the pool, and Joel had kept them fed and watered with a steady stream of hotdogs and soda, reminding them to keep reapplying sunblock and keep their hats on. His brother had rolled his eyes, but Joel reasoned one of them had to be the sensible one - and it’s been me since the day you were born, he’d added.

The moms came and duly collected at the time allotted on the shitty invitations he’d cobbled together in secret a few weeks prior, and Joel was forced to defend himself from being hit on by precisely all eleven women - single or not. He’d firmly rejected invitations for a coffee, or a whiskey, but had grudgingly agreed to come and check over a leaky faucet which he strongly doubted was leaking at all.

When the last little girl - Hayley, Sarah’s best ever friend - had left with her mom, Joel had closed the door and slid a hand over his face, resisting the urge to slide downwards and crumple on the floor. He’d groaned inwardly, Tommy chuckling from the hallway. You’re crazy, his brother had remarked, watching Joel interact with the women, his awkward flirting and half-hearted laughs enough to make anybody cringe. You don’t need to be alone forever, man. You’re thirty! You deserve a lil’ fun!

Joel reminded his brother than such fun was off his radar for the foreseeable, and Tommy held his hands up in mock defeat. S’good thing, I guess, he’d admitted. They don’t know what they’re missin’ with the younger, better lookin’ stud of this house anyway. Joel had merely rolled his eyes at that, heading for the backyard, exhausted from the day’s efforts and seeking a few moments of peace and quiet with his daughter.

He had found Sarah reading through her cards and sorting through assorted gifts on the porch swing, snuggling happily into his side as he collapsed beside her. You have a good birthday, baby? He’d asked, nervous for her answer. Everything Joel did was for Sarah. It was the reason he hauled his ass out of bed for 4am contracting shifts, had learned how to style her hair by shyly asking a teacher at her school, had let her paint his nails pink at their backyard tea party and had loved every second of it.

Sarah replied that she had, but now she wanted to play mermaids one more time, please?! It’s still my birthday! Joel could only oblige - his own dark eyes pleading at him, fringed with delicate lashes that he was certain came from her mama. Joel didn’t tend to think of Sarah’s mother often - if, at all. She had asked a few questions here and there, and he’d always managed to deflect them. As he’d slipped into the warm water with Sarah giggling on his shoulders, he knew that the time would come where they’d have the conversation he’d been avoiding, since the night Joel had brought her home from the hospital.

Looking at Sarah’s sleeping form, now, her button nose and pouted lips, Joel’s heart heaved with love for her. Joel looked over at Tommy from beneath his sunglasses, wolfing down his tenth hotdog of the day, wondering how they’d made it so far. Sarah shifted a little in his lap, and Joel felt himself swept back in time, 22-years-old, a new father without a fucking clue about what to do with this baby without a mother.

He remembered it like it was yesterday - his ex had called the house he and Tommy had just bought. Her voice shaking on the line: I can’t do this, Joel. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was pregnant. She’s yours. Please take her. I don’t have anybody else to call. He hadn’t heard from her in six months - it wasn’t a serious thing, she was a cashier at the store he got his liquor at when the weekend rolled in, and they’d been having fun. Careful fun, right?

In blind panic, Joel got to the hospital and found the right room. How he did it, he’d never know. The baby was already alone, save for a nurse who gently gestured that he should sit down and try and get his breathing together. As soon as she was placed in his arms, Joel knew his life was changed forever. She was it, this tiny snuffling bundle mewling up at him. She had his eyes, he was sure. Even if they weren’t his; it didn’t fuckin’ matter. He wasn’t leaving the hospital without his girl. His Sarah.

God, it was hard. So fuckin’ hard. Some days, Joel was close to breaking point; parenting books and VHS tapes only going to far with what they could teach him. But when Sarah wrapped her tiny finger round his, or gave Tommy a gummy smile and shrieked with laughter, Joel knew he’d take a thousand shitty days for that one slice of heaven. His perfect girl. They got through it, together.

Still got ten years of this shit, Tommy mused, his foot gently kicking an abandoned Barbie across the grass, jolting Joel from his reverie. Cheers to that, he motioned to his younger brother, taking a long pull from his beer. Tommy looked down on his niece with affection he’d had for eight years, the expression well-worn on his face, before he turned and headed inside.

The song on the radio was drawing to a close, the sky above an even richer shade of honey than before, as the string lights across the pool glowed in the approaching evening light. Bath, then bed, Joel hummed to himself as he prepared to lift Sarah to his chest gently, ready to repeat the routine he’d shaped his life around. Joel was holding his whole world in his hands, and he felt like the luckiest man alive.

[moonchildicons]

The Last Of Us (EP. 1 e 2)

💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟

Like or Reblog

[vaedis]

if Ellie dies in TLoU 3, i’m expecting a Joel cameo. maybe as she’s dying, she’ll hear the distant voice of Joel welcoming her home. or maybe she’ll hear the distant laugh of Sarah, and not understand who it is.

maybe we’ll get Joel reuniting with both of his daughters - as a treat 😁

[somefirewhiskeyfortheway]

The Last of Us | 1x01 - 1x05

[itsladyliv]

hey y’all, 

just never noticed how their poses are literally the same. it hurts so much.

[brighttears]

There and Back

Joel Miller (not an x reader)

Summary: Memories of Sarah come back one miserable morning in Joel and Tess’s Botson QZ apartment.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: drinking, mentions of pill abuse, basically depression and ptsd symptoms, grief and mourning, talk of (Sarah’s) death, brief and vague suggestion of suicidal thoughts, brief mention of Christian beliefs (hell), smoking (cigarettes), blood (very little), pure angst

A/n: anything about Sarah makes me tear up so easily god this was distressing to write idk why i feel like i needed to christ. also not a x reader fic idc this one was for me

—

He woke disoriented, small, aching, and thirsty. With wisps of her screams still in his ears, Joel had crawled from the bed, clumsily pushing the dresser away by backing himself into it, and fished around under the floorboards until his hand hit a thick glass bottle.

Today’s breakfast is smuggled whiskey. He doesn’t work until much later and Tess has the opposite schedule. So, Joel sits accompanied only by the peeling wallpaper, silent radio, and this bottle before him, full of orange, drowned prayers for some kind of relief. He dumps a pour into his short glass and sets the bottle back down on the table with a bang. Slumping in his chair, he takes a deep breath. He still has glimpses of self awareness, he sees himself here, drinking first thing in the morning, not really wanting to, but she’s still in his ear, those rapid, desperate breaths—his eyes squeeze shut and grabs the glass and throws it back. He dumps another shot, and then another. 

Joel calls himself a coward with every hot swallow. At this point, he probably drinks more whiskey than water, though it's often almost half water itself anyways. He drinks so that he’ll keep drinking when he’s drank enough to not give a shit about anything anymore and the waves that crash over him become lukewarm rather than scorching hot or cuttingly cold. Sometimes, it works. Sometimes, if he sets it up just right, when the whiskey closes his eyes, just before he falls back into the nightmares, he remembers her and feels warm, and is dumb-drunk enough to maybe even be able to smile. 

Sarah comes up throughout the day every day, but the memories are of all the times he was a horrible father, all the times he failed her, and if something like her smile does come up, it brings along a heavy coat of sticky despair and heartache, like tar, he feels it drip hot over his skin. 

There’s a hole in him that won’t be filled, not with alcohol, pills, Tess, work, anything he tries, like he was shot through that night too, only he lived walked away from it. Joel does not have an answer to the question of if he wishes he’d died that night, too, not anymore at least. He just knows that he needs to stay alive for Tommy and for Tess. So, he downs his fourth shot while the sun’s still rising. 

—

In the driveway, Sarah cries softly, holding her shin to bend her leg and watch the blood just begin to bubble up from her scratched knee.

“It’s alright, babygirl, I’ll go get your Hello Kitty bandaids, alright?” He kneels in front of her, brows raised reassuringly but pained. Sarah nods softly, lip quivering, a teardrop forming on her chin, not taking her eyes off of her knee. Joel reaches his hand to her cheek, thumbing away a stream of tears. “I’ll be right back. Okay?” Looking up, she nods again.

Joel practically runs through the house, throwing himself into the bathroom and swinging the medicine cabinet open with unnecessary force, snatching up the bandaids and Neosporin. Her face when he comes back in through the garage door kills him. “Oh, babygirl, it’s alright. We’ll make it all better, see?” he says, kneeling back on the ground to address the shallow wound. 

As he spreads a dot of Neosporin over it, Sarah sniffles and wipes her forearm over her face. “It doesn’t even hurt, that’s not why I’m upset.” Her voice is wet from crying.

“Then what is it, baby?” he asks as he crosses two bandaids over her knee.

“It’s because I fell off the bike again. This is like the fifth time I’ve fallen off.”

“You’re frustrated, huh?” Joel looks at her, resting one knee on the ground and his arm over his other, crouched. 

“Yeah.” She breaks into tears again as she answers. 

“Oohh, baby, that’s alright,” he brushes his thumb over her cheek again, “it’s ok to be frustrated. But you know what?” Sarah looks up at him, eyes wet, brows furrowed, lip quivering, “You keep gettin’ up! That’s the important part, sweetheart. That’s how you learn new things. You just gotta keep tryin’. Keep gettin’ back up.” She nods and sniffles, then wipes her arm over her face again. “You wanna pick this back up tomorrow, we can go inside and I’ll get you a popsicle?”

Sarah stays sitting, blinking at the ground for a moment before she replies, “No. I wanna try again.”

“You sure?”

She meets his eyes with fierce determination and nods. He almost grins, adoring her perseverant nature. 

“Alright then.” Joel nods as she stands up, watching her chest rise and fall with deep, calming breaths. On his feet, he leans to put his hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes when he tells her, “You can do this. I know you can. Just takes practice.”

She nods definitively, then rights her bike again and climbs on, Joel behind her with his hands ghosting support as she puts her feet back on the pedals.

—

Joel only cries when Tess isn’t here and there’s already a baby crying or some screaming fight to drown it out. Sometimes it puts him to sleep—mourning is tiring; it twists him up and squeezes him out. He’s surprised he still has anything left to be squeezed out after all these years, but he just saw her, he just lost her all over again. It gets heavy in his chest, a rain cloud growing thicker, heavier, darker, and he’s no god, he can do nothing about a storm, even if it’s his. Does he have the grief, like he had Sarah, or does it have him, like she does?

Sometimes he cries so hard that he starts calling for his mother, or Tommy, or for Sarah herself, lost in desperation for something—an end to the pain, just a break from it, death, comfort, Sarah. He’ll start walking around the apartment, looking for something, he doesn't know what or if it even exists, he just doesn’t know what else to do. The grief is a little creature dancing around inside of his body holding a knife, and he’ll grab at his chest, wanting to rip himself open so that he can find it and kill it. Still, after all these years, it hasn’t left, and he can still shatter. He wails, rips his hair out, sets his gun down across the room and stares at it as he weeps. 

This is why he doesn’t die, because he knows grief and he loves Tommy.

Besides, he deserves this pain, doesn’t he? It was his fault. He failed her. If there's a hell, he knows that's where he’s going. Until then, purgatory. He’ll never see Sarah again.

He pours another glass of whiskey and immediately slams it. What else is there to do?

—

“You got everythin’ in there sweetheart?” Joel asks as Sarah slips her fat, new, purple backpack over her shoulder.

“Dad, if anything, I’m overprepared.”

“Well, I just wanna make sure you, y’know, have everythin' they want you t' have, I mean their little… packing lists weren’t all that clear,”

“I’ll be fine, dad,” she smiles over her shoulder with her eyebrows raised, and then starts for the front door, “come on, I’m gonna miss the bus and you’re gonna be late for work.”

“Shit.” he says under his breath, almost falling forward tugging his shoes on.

Tommy, smoking a cigarette leaned against the truck, flicks his butt and joins Sarah walking to the curb. “You excited for your first day?”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

“You nervous?” Joel asks, walking up with his hands on his hips.

“Shit, they should be nervous about you comin’ in there and blowin’ all their hat’s off with that big brain a yours.” Tommy says and Sarah laughs.

“Tommy, watch your mouth.” Joel grumbles, then turns to her, raising his eyebrows and pointing his finger at her, “Don’t repeat that.”

“Oh, she can handle it. Big girl now, middle school, movin’ up in the world.” He ruffles the top of her head and she ducks away, combing it back down, and then the big yellow school bus is rumbling up the street, rolling right up to them with a polyphonic squeak. 

Sarah stands on her toes to kiss her dad on the cheek, then her uncle, and walks backward towards the bus doors as they fold open, waving, “Bye dad! Bye Uncle Tommy! Have a good day at work!”

“Okay, bye sweetheart, I’ll be there at three, okay?”

“Okay dad!” she calls over her shoulder, hands on the straps of her backpack as she steps onto the bus’s stairs.

“Alright, I love you sweetheart. Have a good day.”

“Go kick some ass!” 

“Tommy, there are middle schoolers on that bus.” Joel scolds him quietly. 

“Love you too! I will! See you at three!” Sarah twists and waves one more time on the last step up, then disappears around the corner with a smile. 

“Phew…” Tommy sounds as they watch the doors fold back up and the bus spits and rumbles away, “middle school… they ain’t fuckin’ around when they say they grow up fast.”

“You got that right.” Joel sighs heavily, watching the bus turn the corner and slip from view.

“Alright, brother, come on, we’re already late.” Tommy slaps him on the shoulder and walks to the truck. Joel follows, getting in and pulling on his seatbelt in silence. “Hey,” Tommy says, catching his nervous demeanor, “she’ll be fine, Joel. Bet you’re more nervous than she is.”

“No, I know,” he answers, as he turns the keys, “I’m not worried, I know she’ll do great. She’s always been great at school.” He cranes his neck both ways as he pulls straight out and starts down the road, heading in the opposite direction of the bus, “I just… you’re right. They grow up so gotdamn fast. Feels like yesterday I was showin’ her bunny ears on her shoelaces before first grade. N’ soon enough she’ll be goin’ away to college—”

“Ah, come on, Joel. We got years with her before then. Don’t lose time now worryin’ about losin’ it later.” Tommy watches him.

Joel sighs. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“‘Course I am.” He smirks, lighting a cigarette. 

—

Joel rests his chin over his arm down on the table, examining the dehydrated-piss-colored alcohol left at the bottom of the thick glass he holds in his other hand stretched out in front of him. He sighs through his nose. His eyes hurt. If only the radio would turn on. Any fucking song, any fucking decade, just some sound to take him out of his forlorn and barren internal world, some kind of connection with someone somewhere. 

Joel tells himself that he never gets lonely, but it’s a fat lie, and he wants Tommy here right now so much it hurts. He misses Tess, but he doesn’t want her to see him like this, he’s too ashamed. Tommy has seen him like this. Tommy would help. Tommy would have his hand on his back and he wouldn’t have to say a word, just be here with him. He knew her. He’s the only person in the world that he shares memories of her with, he’s the only other person who knows what a horrible loss Sarah is to the world. 

Joel wants his brother. He drowns the rock in his throat with more harsh, shitty, liquid failure of a relief. 

If Tommy dies, if he’s already dead somewhere, Joel will be the very last carrier of her left. When he dies, she’ll be entirely forgotten, just some bones somewhere, maybe never even those to be seen again, never considered as a former person, a former light of someone’s life, a former bright future, best friend, life saver, a daughter someone was going to cheer for at graduation or walk down the aisle or pick up from asleep in the car and carry upstairs to tuck into bed. No one will know what her fucking smile could do to you or how her eyes are actually golden or that her favorite color is purple and she knows karate and loves pancakes and how spirited she is in her own quiet way, what a truly, purely good person she is, what a big heart she has, how much she is loved. No one will ever know that her name is Sarah and that she is the best thing that ever happened on this fucking planet and she died when she was twelve. 

—

Happiness is a casual presence in the house. It’s the air around Sarah, she fills every room with it just by walking through and passes it to Joel and Tommy like rescue breaths. She was born with love filling every empty space it could fit into within her body and with a creative brain to help her find every way she could to express it. 

At the table, it’s spilling out of her pen as she naturally flows out detailed, spiraling flowers in her notebook. She doodles life, blooming, birth. Tangled, thornless roses, beds of twirling colors over any blank space that happens to catch her attention. Her face is clearly focused in a way that makes her look very far away, deep in her mind. In one smooth, rushed motion, she switches out her pink pen for a blue one out of the case of new glittery pens that he’d just gotten for her.

He doesn’t want to interrupt but he can’t help himself. He values so much being able to continually get to know her as she grows up, always curious about what’s going on in her mind, and there’s always so much. Joel can barely keep up, but he loves to try. 

“Why blue instead a pink?” He asks, head tilted and a smile playing on his lips as he watches from across the table, leaning over the Sunday newspaper that he isn't actually reading.

“Hm?” She looks up and her light eyes glint in the sun coming in through the windows.

“Why’d you change from pink to blue? Just curious.”

Sarah shrugs. “Just cause, I guess. Did you know, though,” Joel grins, elation warming his chest, “colors have meanings, like in movies, different colors symbolize different things. So, pink is love and kindness, but like, playful, because red is also for love, but pink is more friendly. And, of course, it's associated with femininity. Blue,” she points the pen at him, “I thiiink,” she squints an eye at the ceiling, “is... freedom, calmness, trust, and loyalty.” She smiles at him like she always does when she gets to teach him something. It’s one of Joel’s favorite qualities about her—she’s smart, sharp as hell, and she loves to share it. 

“Hm. I didn’t know that.” He takes a sip of coffee from his thick brown mug.

Pleased, Sarah turns her attention back down, swirling and dotting blue flowers out from the pink ones. 

—

It’s so goddamn quiet today and time is moving so slow. There’s nowhere for him to go and Tess is his only friend. 

He's alone. It’s such an ugly thing. Loneliness is not empty but filled with itself. 

Joel shoves dirt into himself, ash, blood, spit, anything, trying to patch up that hole, trying to bring the world back into his hands, clawing at the water to cup in his hands, like he had it before. He had it, he had it, he had it. 

Nothing works. Of course it doesn’t; while he shoves it in he knows it and he knows why. There is only one thing that is compatible there in him and he knows what it is because he was there when it became a part of him and now it’s gone, dead, cold, still, dry bones. His daughter-shaped hole remains empty. 

[consultingzoologist]

A teeny spiel on butterflies and moths in The Last of Us

The fact that there’s a butterfly in the window of both apartments and they were on Sarah’s bed sheets.

The symbolism of the butterfly as delicate but not always (monarch migrations for example) and also being typically seen as feminine and ALSO the birth-death-rebirth and transformative aspects of their lifecycle make me want to chew glass.

Also the fact that in TLOU2 Ellie has a moth tattoo. Moths and butterflies are in the same order, but are active at night and during the day respectively. Moths are often associated with the supernatural (especially the death’s head hawkmoth) but butterflies can also have similar meaning and in some traditions are a symbol of death or even representative of the soul of a dead person.

TL;DR The nature symbolism in The Last of Us makes me insane

I haven’t even gotten to the added layers of butterflies and nature to a queer and trans reading of it

[noone6252]

the way Joel is even overprotective of a nokia

[alicent-targaryen]

JOEL & SARAH MILLER ▸ The Last of Us, 1.6

[petals-art]

Her 💖

[elliescardcollection]