just saw the new Superman and yknow what I keep thinking about?.. when he’s fighting Luthor’s diversion in Metropolis, Clark is making every effort to isolate it to a relatively open space (the park). damages are at a minimum. but that takes time, it’s not efficient enough, so then the corporate-funded Justice Gang shows up - and oops, suddenly buildings are being swept off their foundations, civilians in direct line of fire, the city core is getting ripped apart. he’s scrambling to save children, squirrels, people caught in the red zone while the others are more interested in punching the big monster. the story makes it absolutely clear that corporations don’t care about life or harm reduction, and in a world in which superheroes are already normalized, this kindness is what sets Superman apart
"empowering women by sending katy perry to space for 2 minutes" shut the fuck up. samantha cristoforetti was the first female commander of the international space station and she became an astronaut because of star trek. and there is a real chance she is a kirk/spock shipper
The game: the porch scene is revealed only at the end because it sheds ultimate light on the reasons of Ellie's vengeance and offers the players a deeper understanding of why she went the lengths she went (losing Jesse, two fingers, Tommy's trust, Dina, JJ) to avenge him.
The show: the night of the dance, Ellie and Joel are very much still fighting, but the day after Ellie tells Jesse they're going on daddy-daughter patrol. In the following episode, Ellie lies to everybody to give the impression of being okay and we see her place coffee beans by Joel's grave, hinting that he did indeed trade for them. This is very clearly a set up for the porch scene but it'd ruin the pacing of Ellie's story if it were revealed right now.
The fans: THEY TOOK AWAY THE PORCH SCENE FROM USSSSS
Guys, ngl, I'm kind of worried by the fact that most of you are adults and don't seem to be able to handle stories with a slightly more complex structure than a Cocomelon episode.
Just a heads up, there are bots going around on AO3 accusing people of using AI. Considering the timing, this is likely AI bros' retaliation for AO3 users calling them out for scraping their work. Examples of what you might be sent:
Screenshots from here.
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one of the most upsetting things is that Joel never got to live.
like, truly live.
pre outbreak, he was surviving. putting food on the table, working all hours. sure, he had sarah and tommy, but he never had time to just live with them.
post outbreak, he was surviving. literally.
he got to jackson and it must’ve taken him a while to accept that he could have hobbies. he could have free time. he could sit on his porch and just play the guitar.
this is just a stupid little thing from seeing this gif of him in this post ok thank you and goodnight. Been having writers block so if an idea can get this far on docs I’m posting it
|| fluff, little bit nsfw, daddy kink, old man joel, peepaw joel meets your parents, reader's dad is kind of a hard ass, I suck at flirty banter tbh, cracking up at some of the shit I put in here, enjoy ||
“Baby, I’m serious—” Joel said, but his hands betrayed him, gripping at your hips like he couldn’t help himself as you climbed into his lap. Your knees framed his thick thighs, still clad in worn denim, while his green plaid shirt had come untucked and bunched around his waist. A sliver of soft, tanned stomach peeked out as he leaned back against the bed frame.
“I’m serious too,” you murmured, voice thick with want as you pressed your mouth to his neck. Your fingers wove through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. “Need you, Joel. Been thinking about this all day.”
“We’re gonna be late if you keep this up,” he rasped, even as his head tipped back to give you more of his throat, groaning low when your teeth grazed the scruff along his jaw.
“Don’t care,” you breathed, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “They’ll be fine.”
You hiked your skirt higher, rocking down against him, already expecting to feel that familiar ache of him beneath you—but instead, your hips stilled at the softness of his lap. You blinked, confused, pulling back just enough to search his face. But Joel wouldn’t meet your eyes. His gaze darted everywhere else, over your shoulder, to the wall behind you, the damn nightstand—anywhere but you.
“…Joel?”
He still wouldn’t look at you. You moved your hands to his chest, flattening them against the flannel, feeling the heavy thudding of his heart beneath your fingers.
“You okay?” you asked, softer now, studying him. He looked nice tonight with his hair slicked back, beard freshly trimmed, and his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the veins in his forearms.
You cocked your head, more curious than concerned now as you really looked at him. “Are you…” You reached up, cupping his jaw, gently turning his face until his eyes finally met yours. “Joel Miller, are you nervous?”
He let out a long breath, his voice low and a little rough. “Course I’m nervous, baby.”
“Why?” you asked, easing back in his lap. You could still feel the warmth of his hands on your hips, thumbs sweeping slow, steady circles. It was more soothing for him than you now, grounding himself in the feeling of you.
“Any man’d be nervous meetin’ his girl’s parents for the first time,” he muttered, eyes flicking away again. Then, quieter, “Even if they weren’t his own damn age…”
You smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips—gentle, unhurried. He let you, kissing you back with a quiet sigh, the kind that said he was trying not to get pulled under. You hovered close, noses brushing, before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes again.
“They’re gonna love you,” you whispered.
Joel gave a dry huff, eyes flicking away. “They’re gonna think I’m a damn pervert.”
“You are a pervert.”
His gaze snapped back to yours, narrowing just a bit, the muscles in his jaw tightening. You didn’t miss the way his brows dipped or how his eyes darkened, heat stirring just beneath the surface.
You bit back a grin, fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
He rolled his eyes, still glaring up at you, and you let your shoulders drop, giving in. “Okay, so you’re older than me, who cares? You’re also respectful. And kind. You’re a good man. You even built my cat a window catio.”
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, though he still wouldn’t look at you.
“And you didn’t have to say yes to any of this,” you added, quieter now. “But you did.”
He let out a breath, one hand tightening just slightly at your waist.
You leaned in, your nose brushing his. “And if I thought for one second they wouldn’t like you, I wouldn’t be dragging you into this.”
Finally, his eyes flicked to yours, unsure but searching.
You gave him a small smile. “You’ve got nothing to prove. Just… be yourself. Maybe with slightly less scowling.”
His lips twitched into even more of a smile then, and you kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering there a moment. “But if it helps…” you murmured, lips grazing his jaw now, “I can think of something to get your mind off it for a minute.”
Joel let out a slow breath, one he’d been holding in the entirety of your reassurances, his head falling back against your pillows again.
You smiled against his throat, lips curved with mischief. “I mean… if you really want me to stop…” you murmured, pressing your mouth to the spot just under his jaw. “I could get off your lap.”
Your hips shifted like you might, and his grip on you instantly tightened.
“But then…” you went on, voice all innocent and sinful at once, “what should I do about all this?”
You reached down, took his hand in yours, and guided it between your thighs, right over your panties, where the heat of you was unmistakable. His palm pressed flush against the soaked fabric, and you felt his breath catch sharp in his chest.
He hummed low in his throat, something dark and approving, and as your fingers slipped away, his own pressed harder. His touch was firm, possessive, like he’d been dying to do it but holding back until now.
“This’s all for me?” he finally muttered, voice rough as gravel. “Just from sittin’ in daddy’s lap, huh?”
You whimpered, rocking into his hand, desperate for more friction as you nodded. He gave it to you, slow circles with his fingers that had your breath stuttering, your thighs trembling around his. Even with the fabric between you, you could feel his rough calloused pads of his fingers perfectly against the heat of you.
“Joel,” you whined, barely even meaning to say it.
With a grunt, he shifted, and suddenly your back hit the mattress with a soft thud. He was over you in a flash, his body heavy and hot as he settled between your legs, looking at you like he was starving.
“You got me all worked up now,” he muttered, voice thick and low as his hands dragged your skirt higher, exposing more of your thighs. “Can’t let you walk out that door like this.”
He dipped his head to your neck, lips brushing over your pulse point before suckling gently. The scrape of his beard followed, rough and hot, as he worked his way lower, mouthing at the curve of your collarbone. Then down further, pushing your shirt up as he went, lifting it just enough to mouth at the soft skin of your chest.
“Let me take care of you,” he rasped, dragging his tongue over the top of your breast, nipping at it like he couldn’t help himself. “Let me take care of this little problem, huh, baby?”
You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Knew I’d get your mind off it, old man.”
His hands were everywhere now—palming your thighs, gripping your hips, pushing your panties aside just enough to slide his fingers back where they belonged in your wet, glistening entrance. His mouth returned to your skin, kissing and suckling until your back arched and your breath hitched in your throat.
Joel finally lifted his head, eyes dark and hungry as he hovered over you.
“You gonna be the one tellin’ your parents why we’re late?” he quirked his eyebrow with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You smirked, hands sliding up his shoulders and onto his neck, tugging at the nape of his hair, “I’ll say I had to help you calm your nerves. Blow off some steam. Pretty sure I’m doing everyone a favor.”
Joel huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at you. “That so?” he murmured, his smile pulling a little wider. “You’re real proud of yourself, huh?”
You grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. “You’re welcome.”
He chuckled again, the sound low and warm in his chest. But then something shifted, his gaze lingering a little longer, smile easing into something softer. His eyes flicked around your face like he was locking it into his memory. The mischief faded, replaced by something deeper, something heavier.
When he kissed you, it wasn’t playful anymore. It was deep and unhurried, messy and slow, full of everything that had led up to this night, where you were finally taking this next step, where things became even more real. One hand braced beside your head, the other deep inside you between your trembling legs, dragging you closer to the edge with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips.
Your breath caught. He pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against yours.
“I love you,” he murmured, barely audible, like it had slipped out before he could stop it.
“Love you too, big guy,” you whispered, smiling as you pulled him back down to you.
The porch light flickered on above you as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the worn steps. Joel stood just off-center in front of the door, fingers loosely laced, jaw tense, shoulders drawn up like he expected to be called into a principal’s office.
You watched him for a moment, the way his eyes kept scanning the darkening yard, how his foot tapped once, then twice. He was wearing that soft brown light jacket over the green flannel, the one you loved so much. His hair was smoothed back now, but you could still see the faint tousle where your fingers had been tangled in it less than an hour ago. There was something boyish about how nervous he looked.
You stepped in close and laid a hand flat against his chest.
“Hey,” you said gently. “You’re okay.”
His eyes finally met yours, soft and searching, and you offered him a small smile as your fingers smoothed out the front of his shirt, pressing down a wrinkle that wasn’t really there.
“You’re gonna be fine, Joel. It’s just dinner.”
“Do they know that I’m–?” he mumbled.
You leaned up, brushed your lips over his, cutting him off. It wasn’t hungry or rushed, just soft, sweet, and steady.
When you pulled back, your voice was quiet. “Relax. Like I said, they’re gonna love you.”
He exhaled through his nose, a little shaky, and gave a small nod. His hand came up to rest gently on your waist, thumb brushing over your hip like he needed the contact to stay grounded.
Then, behind you, the front door creaked open with a slow, familiar groan. You turned just enough to see the porch light glint off your dad’s glasses.
Joel straightened like he’d been caught doing something criminal. “Sir,” he greeted, stepping forward to shake your dad’s hand.
Your father was stone-faced, giving Joel a single nod as he returned the handshake. He stood in the doorway, quiet and watchful, eyes moving between the two of you without a word.
You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.
“Are they here!?” came a familiar voice from just inside. A second later, your mom popped her head around your dad’s shoulder, her hands clutching his arm. Her eyes lit up the second she saw you.
“There she is!” she squealed, practically barreling into you for a hug.
You let out a soft laugh as she wrapped her arms around you, warm and overwhelming in the best way. She pulled back just enough to hold you at arm’s length, eyes flicking over your face like she was making sure you were really here.
Then her gaze shifted.
“And you must be Joel!” she said brightly, stepping toward him with a big smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied politely.
“Oh, don’t call me that,” she waved him off, offering her name instead.
You caught the twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he repeated it, his voice soft with that drawl you knew so well.
She reached out and placed her hands on his arms, eyes roaming over him with zero subtlety. “Well, aren’t you handsome,” she said with a wink.
“Mom…” you groaned under your breath.
“Come inside, you two. Dinner’s nearly ready.”
Joel glanced at you, his jaw tight but his eyes softer now. There was still a flicker of nerves there, but beneath it was something quieter. Maybe even grateful. Like he couldn’t quite believe he got to be standing here, hand still warm from your dad’s handshake, your mom’s voice ringing with welcome, your hand just a breath away from his.
You offered him a small smile, one he returned without thinking, and the two of you stepped inside together.
You leaned up to kiss your dad’s cheek as you passed, and he returned it gently, one hand settling on your arm in a quiet, welcoming squeeze.
“So,” your dad’s voice carried from the head of the table, “what is it you do, Joe?”
“It’s Joel, dad.”
Your father raised his eyebrows like he hadn’t noticed the correction, even though he absolutely had.
“I own Miller Contractin’,” Joel said, calm and steady. “We build houses, do commercial work, though mostly stick to residential these days. All across the county.”
Your dad nodded, still not looking up from his plate, chewing a little harder than usual. “Miller Contracting… That just you, or you got a crew?”
“My brother and I are partners, we got a good crew of guys.”
“Hmm.”
A long sip of iced tea later, your dad’s voice pipes up again: “What kinda permits you gotta pull for that subdivision on the west side?”
You blinked. “Dad—”
Joel didn’t miss a beat. “Depends on the parcel. New builds gotta go through the county first, then the town for inspection sign-off. If it’s remodels or additions, we skip the land survey.”
Your dad finally looked up, eyes narrowing. “And your license number?”
Joel raised an eyebrow right back. “You wanna write it down?”
That earned a chuckle from your brother across the table, who quickly masked it with a bite of roll.
Your dad gave a grunt that could’ve meant anything, then pointed his fork across the table. “You hunt?”
“Not in a while,” Joel said. “Used to. Mostly just keep a few rifles around now, in case somethin’ needs shootin’.”
Another nod.
Then, after a long pause, your dad took another bite and mumbled around his food, “Built that deck out back myself, y’know. Back in ’98.”
“Yeah, when I was 8 months pregnant and bout ready to burst from stress,” your mom quipped with a little scoff.
Joel, bless him, didn’t so much as smirk. “It’s a good build. Still holdin’ up well.”
Your dad’s fork hovered in the air, then he gave a small, barely-there nod like Joel had just passed some pop quiz of his.
You finally started to relax until he opened his mouth again.
“One last question, Joel,” your dad said casually, sawing through his steak.
Joel’s shoulders tensed slightly. “Yessir.”
Your dad glanced across the table. His eyes flicked to your neck, then to Joel. Then back to you. With his knife, he gestured loosely toward your collarbone.
“That a hickey on my daughter’s neck?”
You nearly choked on your water.
Joel froze, fork halfway to his mouth.
There was a beat of stunned silence before your mom smacked your dad’s arm.
“David.”
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence, still chewing.
Joel cleared his throat. Loudly. “I—uh—must be… a-a nasty bug bite or somethin’.”
You stared down at your plate, cheeks on fire, absolutely refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
Your dad just grinned around another bite, like he’d just scored the winning point in a game no one else knew they were playing.
Later, the two of you ended up shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, trading off dishes and bumping hips as you loaded the dishwasher and tackled the giant roasting pan your mom had insisted was “vintage, not ancient.”
Joel rinsed a plate, set it in the rack, and glanced at you with a sly grin. “You always this bossy with kitchen duty?”
You shot him a look over your shoulder. “I’m not bossy. I’m efficient.”
“You barely let me step up to the sink before you were shovin’ the dryin’ rag in my hand.”
“I did not.”
“Reckon ya did, sweetheart. And to think I’m just tryna be a good guest.”
You laughed, nudging him with your hip. “I just know where our strengths and weaknesses lie is all.”
“Uh-huh.” He held up the rag and dish in hand dramatically. “Well, I’m puttin’ it on my résumé.”
“Oh yeah? Skills: contracting, firearm safety, surviving dad interrogation, and above-average dish drying?”
He turned to you, eyes playful. “You forgot exceptional boyfriend.”
You pretended to think about it. “Jury’s still out.”
He gave you a mock glare. “Keep talkin’ like that and you’re gettin’ another one of them hickeys on your neck. Right on the other side. Bet your dad would love that.”
Your eyes widened. “Joel.”
“Symmetry,” he said with a shrug, like it was the most reasonable explanation in the world.
Joel stepped back from the counter, towel still in hand, and playfully flicked it toward your backside. You squealed, swatting at him with your sudsy hand, and nearly bumped into the oven.
You were both laughing when the kitchen door creaked open and your dad leaned inside.
Joel straightened like he’d been caught red-handed again, shoulders stiff.
Your dad gave a long look at the two of you, then cleared his throat. “Joel.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You drink beer?”
Joel blinked. “Sure do.”
Your dad nodded once, like he’d already made the decision before asking. “Come out on the porch. I got a few in the cooler.”
Joel shot you a quick look, like he was trying to read if this was good or bad.
You just smiled and mouthed, go.
He followed your dad out, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he went. You watched him go with a little flutter in your chest.
“Oh,” a sudden thought crossed your mind, “daddy?”
Both men turned.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Yes, honey?”
The silence that followed was crippling.
Joel went stiff as a board, like he’d just realized he’d stepped off a cliff and was waiting for gravity to finish the job. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. He looked between you and your dad with eyes wide as saucers, face draining of color.
Your dad was staring at him. Hard.
You turned crimson, choking on air. “I—I was just... I was gonna ask if you wanted some—Mom said there was pie for dessert. Or maybe it was cheesecake? I don’t–I don’t know. Actually, let me go ask her.”
You slapped the sponge onto the counter and bolted, eyes on the floor, muttering something that might’ve been English as you fled the kitchen.
You sat curled into the corner of the couch, a slice of pie balanced on your lap and your second glass of wine halfway gone. The living room was dim, lit mostly by the lamp beside your mom’s armchair and the soft flicker from the TV, playing some home renovation show you weren’t really watching.
Your mom leaned back, swirling her wine. “So… he’s cute.”
You smiled behind your fork. “Mmhm.”
“And polite. Little stiff.”
“He was a little nervous. Bein’...” you shrugged, “You know, same age as you guys and all.”
Your mom raised her eyebrows, taking another sip from her glass. “Please. Age is but a number these days. The amount of older men I dated when I was your age…” she chuckled to herself at the memories.
You snorted, shaking your head as you scooped another bite of pie, the quiet of the house settling in around you like a blanket.
She tilted her head, watching you with that knowing, mom-look. “He seems like a good man, honey.”
“He is,” you said softly, nodding.
Your mom’s gaze softened as she looked at you over the rim of her glass. “I see the way he looks at you. The way you two laugh together. It's nice… seeing you like this.”
You felt your smile pull a little deeper, the warmth in your cheeks not just from the wine. “Yeah,” you murmured. “It feels nice, too.”
The moment settled between you, quiet and soft until your thoughts drifted to the porch. You tried not to let your mind wander, but it crept in anyway. Whatever conversation Joel and your dad were having out there… you hadn’t wanted to hear it. After the fiasco in the kitchen you just hoped he was alive. But then you heard the back door open, the low rumble of Joel’s voice, and your dad laughing about something involving backyard irrigation, you knew whatever happened, it hadn’t gone badly.
Joel and your dad stepped into the living room, their voices trailing off mid-conversation.
“—and I told him if he tried to DIY those stone steps without checking the grading, he was gonna bust his ass in the first rain.”
Your dad huffed a laugh. “You’re not wrong. Maybe I’ll call your company in spring.”
Joel just gave a polite smile, his eyes finding yours immediately.
Your mom rose to her feet and crossed the room to kiss him on the cheek, then turned to wrap her arms around you. “Thank you for comin’ tonight. Come back anytime, you two.”
You smiled, hugging her tight. “We will.”
“You picked a good one,” she whispered in your ear, giving you a little squeeze before she headed toward the hallway, bidding you goodnight.
You turned just in time to see Joel and your dad shaking hands. It looked firm, respectful, less like a test this time and more like an understanding.
You crossed the room and kissed your father goodbye, and while he didn’t say much, his hand on your back lingered for a second longer than usual. That was about as close as you were gonna get to a blessing.
You and Joel walked out to the truck in the cool night air, his hand brushing your lower back, just enough to feel steady.
Once inside the cab, he pulled the door shut and let out a massive exhale, sinking into the seat like he’d just survived a firefight.
You grinned at him, cheeks warm from the wine and your heart even warmer.
“You did good tonight,” you said softly.
He looked at you like you’d just handed him a ribbon at the county fair. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Really good. You survived my dad. Didn’t insult his deck. Kept it very buttoned up.”
He huffed a laugh, “It is a nice deck.”
You leaned your head back against the seat, looking at him through your lashes. “Kinda hot, actually. Watching you all nervous and respectable.”
He gave you a look. “Few times in there I wasn’t so sure. Thought he might shoot me right then and there when he asked about your neck. And don’t get me started on your stunt in the kitchen.”
You groaned and covered your face. “I didn’t meaaaan it.”
Joel chuckled, the sound soft and low as he reached over and gently tugged your hand away from your face. “Still nearly gave both me and your old man a heart attack.”
You grinned at him as he kissed your hand gently, one knuckle at a time, “But you’re my old man.”
He let out a breath, shaking his head as his smile tugged wide and helpless. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.”
You leaned in, bumping your nose against his. “Worth it.”
And here, they actually show how Joel became a kinder person in Jackson, someone who's learned to care about others & the community, addressing the criticism some had of the original game where his trust of Abby felt a bit jarring considering we didn't get to see him becoming less survivalist. Now, he's Uncle Joel. But now Uncle Joel has passed on.
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