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Joel Miller - Blog Posts
joel finds you out in the cold. your parents haven’t returned from a supply run. you’re alone and scared— so he takes you back to his camp.
Joel slings his backpack over his shoulder and forces himself forward. He knows that stopping to rest now is essential if he plans on getting home, even if he so desperately wants to keep pace and make it there within the next hour. Logic wins. He pulls himself down and rests his fist under his chin.
A shuffle grabs his attention. He immediately pulls his gun, his eyes darting frantically, scanning for a threat. He lowers his weapon once the ‘threat’ enters his vision. A small kid, can’t be above 10. Shivering, clutching a dirty stuffed bear to their chest. You look terrified— rightfully so. With the world you live in now, it would be strange if you weren’t terrified. Joel approaches you slowly. Puts his gun away to show you he means no harm.
“Hey.. you, kid, under the porch. I ain’t gonna hurt ‘ya.” He crouches and offers his hand to you. You’re timid, untrusting. He understands, he’d probably have taught you to be untrusting too if he was your parent. He rolls a water bottle under the crack. You roll it back over his way.
“I promise it’s safe. Watch.” He takes a waterfall from the bottle. Showing you he didn’t do anything to the drink. Rolls it back to you. This time you accept it, gulping it down quickly. You were dehydrated. You haven’t left this spot since yesterday.
“Thank you..” you mutter, still afraid. Joel has a warm aura. You decide that maybe you can trust him. Maybe.
“Yeah. Come out from under there, kid. It’s ’bout to be night time. Don’t want a clicker to get ‘ya. I’ll keep you safe, bud.” He gives you his hand again. You take it. After pulling you out from under the porch he throws his jacket over you, not wanting you to freeze to death on the way home.
“I have a camp. Lots of food. Good things. You’ll like it. Other kids your age. You can play… whatever kids your age do. Learn to shoot, too, if you want. I teach that course.” You shrug. You aren’t sure what you want yet. You just want a warm bed, and to know that your parents are okay. “What were you doing under there anyway?” You both start the journey back to camp.
“Waitin’ for mama and papa.” Your voice cracks as you say it. Joel sighs.
“I’m sorry about that, kiddo. Really damn sorry.” He rubs the back of your head, trying to soothe the hurt, though he knows nothing could repair that wound. He’s lost a daughter before, he imagines it feels just like that, but reversed. Having to lose both your parents.
Hours pass and you’re nearing the camp. Joel can see how sleepy you are. He chuckles. Kids always look cute when they’re tired. “Think you can make it, kid?” You’re barely awake. You give him half a nod. He shakes his head.
“Listen, I can carry ‘ya. I don’t mind. I don’t bite, swear.” You blink, thinking it over. Drowsiness takes over and you reach for Joel. If he wanted to hurt you, he probably would have already. “Good. Good. C’mere, kiddo.” He reaches and pulls you up into his arms, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “Sweet dreams. When you wake up you’ll be in a warm bed. Safe. I’ll pull some strings and get ‘ya some candy, too. A welcome home gift.”
You’re too tired to react. All you do is yawn and nod, letting the sleep overpower you and finally, it consumes you.
unforgivable things
just two characters who wiggled their fingers before their death that they knew was coming
notice how she tries to hold his hand like she did when he got stabbed. notice how she holds onto it even if he isn't caressing her hand to tell her he's okay. notice how-
homesick.
fluff. joel miller x fem!reader
summary: after the new year's party in Jackson and Joel's fight with Ellie, you can't help but worry about him, so you keep him company on that cold night.
...
The hum of guitars and laughter fades into the snowy distance as you walk toward the neighborhood. Each step leaves soft prints behind in the thick white layer blanketing the ground. Your hands stay buried deep in your pockets, too afraid to let them out—afraid the cold will sink into your bones and steal the feeling from your fingers.
Most of the houses are dark, their porches swallowed in shadow, except for one. A single light glows dimly above a familiar doorway. You recognize it instantly.
The soft strum of a guitar drifts toward you, sweet and aching. A smile tugs at your lips, faint but full of meaning. You can see Joel sitting on his porch, strumming his guitar.
Gaze softening you continue walking toward him, and you recognize the notes being played on the instrument. You also recognize the look in his eyes, the same he held back at the party when the scene with Ellie unfolded.
He continues playing slowly, his eyes fixed on the instrument but somewhat distant, clouded by thoughts. Your heart skips a beat as you remember his eyes, the way he looked around at that moment back at the party.
You step quietly up the path, the snow muffling your steps. Joel looks up as you near, his face softening the second he sees you. The guitar stills beneath his touch.
"Hey kiddo..." he musters quietly, in a tone he thinks he has reserved only for you. The nickname makes you warm inside.
Leaning your shoulder against one of the porch columns, you smile—small, almost apologetic. “Happy New Year.”
It’s been hours since midnight, but you hadn’t seen him during the toast, not after… well, not after everything. “You okay?” you ask, careful not to pry, because you know him.
Silence creeps in between you. You still keep your hands inside your pockets. Joel sighs, pulling his guitar from his lap and placing it gently on the floor beside his seat.
"Aint have t'worry 'bout me, darlin'..." The southern accent slipping through his tongue, but you know better than to not worry, not after what happened. "and happy new year to you too, sweetheart"
You smile again but you dont say anything, not like you would normally do in other ocasions. You draw your lips in a thin line as you keep looking at him. Your gaze turns worried again.
"Can I keep you company?" you finally ask, and you wonder why do you ask, and he does it too. He knows that even if he said no in that moment you will still stay there anyway.
Joel sighs and tries to look away from you. He tries to keep his façade on, but he knows... he knows you know. He knows you know he has grown soft. He tends to tell himself it's because of his age perhaps, but he can't even fool himself with that. He feels the weight of your gaze, expecting him to let you in.
Joel, even though he wouldn't dare to admit it out loud, feels like your eyes melt him inside, so he tries to gaze at the pitch black sky instead, but the flutter in his chest doesn't dissapear... it never does.
Maybe, just maybe, he says to himself, it's because he feels softer these past few months and years since he stablished himself in Jackson, and your eyes hold the warmth he's been craving. Or maybe, perhaps, it's the way he has felt so lonely lately, but... it's not like that. He has realized, or realizes there in that moment at least, that he doesn't crave any other kind of warmth that doesn't come from your eyes, and the way you stare at him.
Sometimes, in nights like these, while he lays in his bed, he thinks of you, and your eyes. And whenever he goes out, he secretly wishes he will see you before you go to your job, or run into you somewhere in town, just to see your beautiful face.
Things haven't been great lately for him, and tonight he feels the most empty after the party and everything that happened with Ellie. And you... you look so beautiful, he wouldn't have ever thought years ago, not even in his wildest and sweetest dreams, that he will be in the presence of such a beautiful girl like you, just the two alone.
He feels it—the way your eyes look at him. The warmth in them that breaks past everything he’s built up.
"C'mere..." he only limits himself to mutter that.
Your smile is soft—tinged with sadness—as you step toward him. Joel rises from his chair, waiting for you.
Once you are face to face, the space between you two is closed. You tell yourself it's because of the cold that you seek the closeness, but you know it's not. You pull your hands from inside your pockets, and you quietly reach for both of his hands. You watch as Joel's posture and gaze shifts for a moment as you take his calloused hands in yours.
Your eyes turn concerned as you feel the coldness of his hands against your skin, bringing them to your face, trying to warm them up with your breath. Joel’s chest tightens. The way you do that—so tender, like he’s fragile—it hits something buried deep. He notices your hands are cold too, your nose and cheeks flushed pink from the winter. He resists the urge to cup your face right then and there.
“Let’s head inside,” Joel says gruffly, his voice dipping into that stern edge he wears when he’s worried. “Don’t want ya gettin’ sick.”
You nod and let go of his hands. He clears his throat and heads to his front door, opening it for you to get inside, where the warmth of his home welcomed you like a blanket. The scent of aged wood, faint tobacco, and something like old leather surrounds you. It smells like him.
The house is modest—lived in. A few stacks of books sit by the worn armchair, a record player rests in the corner, a flannel blanket folded over the couch. The walls carry warmth in their deep brown tones, and soft light from the fireplace flickers against them, casting golden shadow.
You move toward the fire, holding your hands out to it and rubbing them together. The relief is instant. Behind you, Joel steps closer, his shoulders brushing yours as he joins you. Even if you don't actually feel him because of the many layers of clothes you both have, it still feels intimate.
The warm light from the fireplace cast shadows against his rough features. You stare at the curve of his nose, the deep set of his eyes, the wrinkles, the silver at his temples and beard, and the bags under his eyes. You had never seen anyone so handsome. He has been the subject of your thoughts ever since you came to Jackson. And even though he didn't seem like it at first or to anyone but you, he was so sweet, the sweetest man. Contrary to what everyone in town had tell you or keeps telling you to this day.
“You weren’t at the toast,” you say finally. “I figured maybe…” You make a pause. “Just give her some time…” you whisper instead, the words slipping out.
Joel sighs and closes his eyes, a hand raking through his hair as he turns and sinks into the couch slowly, muscles and joints sore from days of work.
“‘M tryin’ my best,” he says, voice thick with something he’s holding back. You follow and sit beside him, removing your jacket as you turn to face him, looking for his eyes.
"I know..." you murmur. "It's your first time going through this, dealing with teens is not easy... but I can see you are always alone, and after..." you pause for a second before continuing, debating on how to put what you wanted to say with the correct words. "after what happened tonight, I- I get worried about you too."
His head turns to you once those words come out of your mouth.
"'m fine darlin'" Joel says, one of his arms coming to rest on the back of the couch behind your neck. "'m used to being alone... stop worrying that pretty head of yours". He tries to muster up a smile, but only one of the corners of his mouth tilts up in a makeshift smile.
"Don't lie, I know you." you say as you lean your head against his shoulder. "You are always here with your guitar or working. I know you say you are used to being alone but... I also know you don't really want to." Joel swears his heart almost skips a beat when you wrap your arms around his torso, cuddling his side.
"Sweetheart..." He says, one of his hands tilting your chin up, trying to look for your eyes. "You ain't gotta worry 'bout an old man like me, you are so young—"
"Don't start Joel, because you know I dont care". You warn him as you roll your eyes at him. " Look me in the eyes and tell me to leave then..." Joel sighs at your comment, knowing he won't win. He groans as he adjusts his body on the couch to let you cuddle on his chest. A smile creeps up on your features once you know he won't lecture you.
His other arm comes to wrap on your front as you throw your legs over his. His chin rests against the top of your head as he exhales, getting comfortable. You nuzzle your head on his chest, the soft fabric of his flannel and his smell conforts you.
"Don't like seeing you like this... alone and sad, I- I can't stand it." You mumble against his chest. "Let me stay with you."
Joel feel his breath hitch at you request. He knows he can't deny you, and he tries to fight it but... tonight, tonight he feels exhausted. His heart cries out for you as much as his body does. Lips press on the top of your head, and Joel inhales the sweet scent of you shampoo. A knot threatens to form on the back of his throat, the moment snapping and pulling at his heart strings. He does not want to break down, not in front of you but it seems like you always know. Without warning he feels a single tear fall from his left eye.
"Stay..." the words come out a little broken from the strain on his voice, and he mentally curses himself. He feels you reaching for his hand, placing yours on top of his. He moves it so your palm is against his now. His hands are worn out, big and calloused, thick skin from the heavy work and survival years.
Joel takes away the hand to reach for your face, his fingers finding the soft skin of your cheeks, stroking it lovingly. Your eyes close as you relish on the closeness.
He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as his eyes look for yours. You finally stare up at him, your face turning concerned at the sight of his teary eyes. You open your mouth to say something but just before you know it Joel speaks.
"Shh, 's okay... 's okay babygirl" Joel says as he watches your eyes full of concern threatening to fill with tears too. His fingers keep brushing the hair out of your face softly as he inches closer to your face.
"Darlin'..." he whispers, your lips almost touching, as his eyes bore into yours. "C-can I kiss you?"
The way he asks makes your heart melt, your gaze drifting to his lips. You only manage to nod before he connects your lips in a tender kiss.
Joel is in cloud nine at that very moment as he relishes in the softness of your lips against his chapped ones, and the way it's all he imagined you would feel like. One of his hands stays in the back of your head, tangling in the strands of soft hair, the other holds your chin gently. You are all he has ever dreamt of.
He breaks the kiss slowly, and pecks your lips once, twice after. His forehead comes to rest against yours.
Joel watches the firelight flicker across your face like it’s something sacred. He hasn’t said much since you curled into him, but the weight of his silence is louder than words.
After a while, his voice breaks the quiet.
“I shouldn’t want this,” he says, barely louder than the crackling wood. “Shouldn’t want you.”
You look up at him, confusion flickering in your gaze.
He sighs, looks away, jaw clenched. “I’m not a good man,” he says flatly. “I’ve done things. Bad things. Things that’d make you look at me different if you knew the whole truth.”
You open your mouth, but he shakes his head, already bracing himself for what he thinks you’ll say.
“I look at you,” he cuts in, voice straining, “and I feel like I’m starvin’. Like you’re the first warm thing I’ve had in years and I don’t know how to hold it without breakin’ it.”
You reach up, gently touching his cheek. He flinches, just barely—like he’s not sure he’s allowed to be touched like this.
“I don’t care about what you’ve done,” you whisper.
His eyes meet yours, filled with disbelief, hope, and something aching.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear that,” he admits, voice cracking. “But wantin’ don’t mean I deserve it.”
You lean in closer, forehead resting against his.
“Then let me decide what you deserve,” you breathe. “Because all I want… is you.”
Joel swallows hard, hands trembling slightly as they cup your face.
“I don’t know how to love without fear,” he says, honest and broken. “But if you’ll have me, I’ll try. I’ll try every damn day.”
Your lips find his—slow, tender, full of everything words couldn’t carry.
And when he kisses you back, it’s not as a man who thinks he deserves it. It’s as a man who’s been given something he thought he’d never feel again.
Hope. Warmth. A second chance.
You stay wrapped in each other’s arms, and though nothing outside has changed, Joel’s world has. Just a little.
Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, he lets himself believe. So that night, you stay.
WELL let me tell you, im having the time of my LIFE with all this new joel miller content, thank you
i am NOT off my pedro pascal insanity yet. any time i watch anything he's in i feel like winona ryder when she's all "here he is telling me about his poor dead mother and all i can think about is his hands unbuttoning my dress." joel miller im sorry i was looking at your biceps when your daughter died. maybe you could call me 'baby' too... also sorry about gnawing on my knuckles and screeching in deranged hunger when you were torturing a guy. oberyn martell is talking about the tragic death of his sister and i am NOT listening. let's make out.
as someone who was weirdly and staunchly set against pedro pascal for like, five years, (for no reason either) and declared firmly that i did not find him attractive, this whole new thing where i actually like him a lot and he makes me giggle like an idiot is throwing me off badly. i feel like i'm going insane. i like him so much now. i got furious over a youtube comment section saying he was a weak, overused actor, all fired up like someone kicked my DOG. i'm out here poring over movies and skits and clips like it's religious text. i would ask to be saved but i am resigned to my fate and also i like it here.
Insp.
Final pic from @abbystanaccount
First art of the new year and it’s the comfort character meme. XD
The only thing keeping me together after this episode is that in the last scene in Jackson you can see in the background that at least some of the dogs survived
just watched the first two episodes of tlou
Regency? Royal? Fancy au? Idk, time periods are unimportant. Big bear men are what's important here
Mentions of mild feederism + breeding kink. Perhaps implied dubious consent? Implied age gap too
i developed brainworms at work
Duke who has been hardened with war. Lost good men in a noble fight for his king. Gifted a title grander than his status as a commoner born for his fight. For his leadership. A payment for the blood staining his calloused palms and bruised knuckles.
Perhaps he's widowed. Maybe he's got daddy issues. His possiblity for flavour is endless
Gifted a bride too. 'What an honor it would be!' they cried, insisting to marry off their unsociable child. The youngest. Getting to an age where they are deemed undesirable and whispers rise as still no ring sits on their finger.
Was it an honor when he now has a bride who squeaks when their eyes meet? Swallowing hard like cornered prey but then, oh then he finds it. The fight. The way your words spit out, high pitched and pinned in your throat. Words of protest. Refusal to do something. Accusing him of purposefully trying to frighten you.
When he moves too forward, acting as a commoner not as a Duke, to his new bride. Scandalized when he undresses so dully Infront of you as you bathe. He asked no permission to enter. It was his home after all.
A bunny with sharp teeth. A precious doe with sharpened horns. How precious. He'd find a way to file down those pointy edges of yours to get to the soft tender flesh beneath.
He wanted to provide. To give. He was a husband and man, after all. He grew restless without battle and no amount of labour around his own manor soothed that ache to be useful. How could he honour such a darling thing like his little bride without anything to claim, to conquer? To show how good of a life he can give.
I think what really gets him is when a maid comes to his office. Requesting a fund to get his bride new clothes - he, of course, asks why and he has to bite back a groan as the maid explains his little bride has gained weight. Explained it's obvious. Your clothes sit too flush to your belly now. Things must be adjusted or completely changed.
He chubs immediately under his desk. Almost delirious as he imagined the extra pudge now on your form. How good he's looked after you - so good that you've gained weight? He can only imagine just how plump you'd get once he successfully breeds his bride.
If there’s one thing you need to know about me is that I LOVE zombies
A lot of media with zombies will be a hit with me because it’s not about the zombies it’s about what people do with the trope
LIKE at this point it’s not about the damn zombies, they’re a plot device to help you deepen your characters and people can do that in such an interesting way in apocalypse stories
ALSO THE WAY THE ZOMBIES ARE CHANGED IN EVERY STORY I LOVE THAT I JUST LOVE WHEN PEOPLE HAVE FUN WITH IT THAT WAY !!!
I don’t watch enough zombie apocalypse media even though I love it😔
any good recommendations will be really appreciated too:))
Папа :(
Joel Miller Character Design from Grounded II- Making the Last of Us Part II
watched the last of us awhile ago and absolutory loved it. it took me a wile to draw some fan art but here it is. Ellie <3
i wanted to draw joel but aparentaly i can't. like he never looks quite right. i've gotten close but it's still not quite right. it's kinda funny though because aparently Padro pascal was deemed one of the easiest people to draw according to my friend and i just can't draw him.
i want to play the game now that its on steam but i don't know if my computer will run it
like fuck you are soooo old and soooo bloody and like. ethically compromised and i think. that makes you soooo sexy
And another one
One of the favorite moments in the game
- You are not my daughter - and I sure as hell ain’t your Dad.
“you have no idea what loss is.” ~ Joel
“everyone i have cared for has either died or left me… everyone fucking except for you.” ~ Ellie
okay joel, she gets it. she gets what loss is now. stop being a silly goose and get up. jokes over. 😀
Nah I don't think y'all get it
"it wasn't time that did it"
HE'S SAYING THAT THE ABSOLUTE WORST PAIN IN THE WORLD. IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE. IN ANY PARENT'S LIFE. THE TYPE OF PAIN AND LOSS THAT MAKES YOU NOT EVEN SEE THE POINT OF BREATHING ANYMORE. THAT MAKES YOU HATE THE WORLD AND EVERYONE IN IT. THAT LEAVES YOU CLOSED OFF AND UNABLE TO EVEN SMILE. WAS HEALED BY HER. THAT IT WASN'T TIME OR ANY OTHER BULLSHIT PEOPLE COME UP WITH. IT WAS HER. IT WAS HER STUPID PUNS AND SILLY FACES AND HER BRIGHT LAUGHTER THAT GAVE HIM A REASON TO WANT TO BREATHE AGAIN. THAT SHE IS HIS ONLY REASON TO FIGHT AGAIN. I feel ill. I feel insane. Somebody sedate me.
joel saying “it wasn’t time that did it” while staring hopelessly at ellie literally ruined my entire life
A child digging a grave she believes she should inhabit
Or one she believes should be empty if she didn't fail.
