mildmiller

[mildmiller]

Listen to the full playlist here.

Bad Blood - Bastille

If we’re only ever looking back We will drive ourselves insane

Short Change Hero - The Heavy

This ain’t no place for no hero To call home

Amsterdam - Coldplay

You can say what you mean But it won’t change a thing

Timshel - Mumford & Sons

Death is at your doorstep And it will steal your innocence But it will not steal your substance

Au Revoir - OneRepublic

Let’s play a game Where all the lives we lead could change

#lwdtask05 #the nice thing about chace crawford's pix #is that half of them look like they could be covers for backwater country singers

[mildmiller]

Tommy could feel Joel's hesitation and he didn't like it one bit. No doubt Joel was thinking about what would be lost if they didn't go through with the job; sometimes Tommy felt like all his brother thought about was material goods, and that alarmed him. Sure, they needed food--everyone needed fucking food--but sometimes the immediate danger was more pressing than securing a meal for next week. Tommy had been saving food here and there for a reason, after all. They could afford to skimp on ration cards for a few weeks if they absolutely had to.

He felt frustrated at the way Joel was talking to him. It seemed almost as if Joel forgot that he, too, had survived, that he had fought and spilled the blood of stranger's for Joel's sake--and Sarah's. And he would have done it for Robin, too, had she not--

Right. Immediate danger to think about. Right.

"I'm not a child, Joel," he murmured, but that was all the protest he allowed himself before focusing again on the matter at hand: survival. 

Stepping toward the door, he cast Joel a look to make sure he was ready before slowly turning the handle.

Here went nothing.

Opening the door slowly to avoid any sudden noises or movements, he saw that the runners weren't headed in their direction and nearly sighed with relief. He couldn't relax yet, though, because they still needed to dispatch them. Crouched low to the ground, he crept toward the nearest one and, when he was close enough, put it into a headlock from behind, squeezing with as much force as he could muster.

He could feel the bones cracking in the thing's neck, and that's when he knew he'd been successful. He dropped the body off to the side and kept going, well aware that he couldn't relax just yet. There was another one in front of him, but he didn't want to use his weapons and his arm was tired. Luckily there was a loose brick lying by the wall to his side, so he gripped it and prepared his body for the strain of a heavy blow.

The skull gave way easily underneath the brick, and he felt sick at the crunch of it. Dropping the brick to the side, he pressed himself to the wall and looked around. Somewhere down the line he had lost sight of Joel--he only hoped his brother had made out as well as he had.

Nothing to Worry About [Tommy & Joel]

Joel gritted his teeth and his body tensed at the very thought of turning back. What if those people were alive? What if they could still get their payment? But what if everything had already gone to shit? They needed those ration cards but he didn’t want to put his brother in more danger than necessary. This was a job that he could have done on his own; he just wanted his brother to learn more about surviving. 

And now, here they were, locked in a room with nowhere to go. He moved closer to the door and listened. He could still hear runner’s footsteps and their moans. It sounded as if they were still in pain. As if they were still fighting off the infection. 

"Fuck." He whispered. "First thing we need to worry about is clearing them out. Then we can go from there." 

To Joel that meant clearing them out and getting Tommy back to safety while Joel finished up the job. If there were any people left to give the supplies to.

"We need to open this door as quietly as possible and clear them out." He said. "There should only be about four of them. We can take them but you need to stay as quiet as possible." 

#nothing to worry about #HI HERE I AM

[mildmiller]

Tommy's jaw tightened at the sound of more runners. He'd been outside before; though there had always been runners lingering around the QZ—the city activities probably attracted them, where they met their deaths at the hands of a few well-aimed bullets—so many at once was strange. Even a few weeks after the outbreak most of the runners had dissolved the large number they had been in and took to wandering solo or in small groups.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong and Joel was intent on keeping it from him. As Joel worked his way into a locked room, Tommy covering him with his pistol cocked, he could tell that Joel was concerned. They both knew that this wasn't normal, so why was Joel acting like everything was fine?

Well, no worse than usual, anyway.

Tommy paced the room in a small circuit, gripping his gun in case the runners got smart and tried to follow the scent of dinner. He heard one of them stop near the door, those shambling footsteps ceasing for a moment, and held his breath. The steps soon resumed, however, toward what seemed to be the direction of the city.

“I don't like this,” Tommy said, a note of warning creeping into his voice. “Maybe we oughta go back. No use getting ourselves killed because a group of runners got themselves agitated.”

Nothing to Worry About [Tommy & Joel]

Joel held a hand up and stopped abruptly. The sound of runners could be heard and it seemed like they were drawing closer. He pushed his hear up to the wall and listened closely; however, he couldn’t pinpoint their exact location. This was unusual, an abundance of runners in one area. Something was wrong and Joel could feel it. He tried to keep his breathing and movements steady. 

"Dammit." He said under his breath, hoping that Tommy didn’t hear. He didn’t want to worry his brother but the people they were meeting with weren’t exactly trained fighters and by what he was told, had survived mostly by keeping out of sight. He was certain they had to be able to handle themselves to some extent but he wasn’t sure how much help they would actually be. 

They needed cover and quickly as the groans of sheer and utter pain drew closer. They needed a place to hide and fast. Joel searched the area before he found a door. He placed his ear to it and listened; there seemed to be no sound from inside. Slowly, he tried to open the door with his bat at the ready. Fuck, he thought. The door was locked and he only had one shiv. But their safety was more important than his need for the small knife. He quickly slid the shiv in between the wall and the door and busted it open. As he suspected, there was nothing inside the small room. He nodded his head for Tommy to go inside first and then he followed shortly after. 

He shut the door behind them quietly. “We need to devise a plan and now.” His voice was even and almost too calm. Joel had always been better at hiding his nerves, especially now that he was forced to become hardened with everything that had happened. 

#nothing to worry about

[mildmiller]

They were nonstop. Tommy could appreciate that, the rush that came with hurrying along, never sure when death would approach from around the corner; once upon a time he might have found it exciting, in his own way, but he had grown tired of it long ago. Now he just wanted to get back to the QZ safely and--

And what?

His jaw clenched. That kind of thought came so easily these days; the existentialism had been hitting pretty hard, and it was all he could do to stave it off. Sometimes it was difficult to see what the point was, this epic fight for survival that everyone was currently engaged in. The future stretched before them, dark and ominous, and it was hard for Tommy not to wonder where they were going. Were their children and their children's children doomed to live a life that revolved around eating, shitting, and sleeping? What was the point?

Relax, he told himself forcefully, recognizing the pattern when he saw it. He'd always been prone to that kind of thinking before the outbreak, and back then the world had still been full of so much promise: kids could aim for the stars and succeed. But what were the stars now? Living to forty? Managing to keep their families together?

Joel was moving quickly, however, and he didn't have time to linger on it, which was probably for the best. Tommy followed him closely, though he gave Joel enough room to swing if necessary, and made sure to watch their surroundings closely.

They had gone on for a while when Tommy heard the echoes of more runners in the distance. These didn't seem to be alone--that or their voices were distorted by the surroundings. Either way, voices were never a good sign.

"Do you know how many people we're meeting with?" he asked, trying and failing to keep the nerves out of his voice. "Because it's sounding like we might need some help."

Nothing to Worry About [Tommy & Joel]

Joel turned instantly at the sound of approaching footsteps. Every muscle in his body tightened and his breathing slowed. He moved slowly over to Tommy, keeping his movements as silent as possible. He noticed that Tommy had already crouched and was in position. Joel only hoped he could get there before Tommy actually had to fight the damned thing. 

He hated seeing his brother kill; killing was a sure way to harden someone. He didn’t want to see his brother have to do that again. Joel wanted to handle everything but the runner was quicker than he had anticipated. Tommy took it out with one quick motion and was already wiping his machete clean before Joel could move any closer. 

Joel stared at the body on the floor. “There are sure to be more. I’ll take the front and we have to hurry.” 

This could mean the worst for their delivery. He just prayed that the people weren’t already dead. The worst thing was explaining to someone why the delivery couldn’t actually be made. They could be accused of trying to keep the supplies for themselves and that never looked good for anyone’s reputation. Joel pushed his way in front of Tommy and rounded the corner. He readied his baseball bat and proceeded cautiously down the hall. 

"Stay close and keep and watch my back." This could all go to shit in a matter of seconds but Joel wanted to make sure that his brother got through it all. 

#nothing to worry about #HIS CARING IS ADORABLE #UGH #i hate it

[mildmiller]

Tommy wished Joel didn't feel the need to give him the rundown; he'd survived, same as Joel, and okay, maybe he'd gone on fewer jobs outside the QZ than Joel had, but he still got how it worked: you conserved your supplies. You picked up anything useful. You survived. It was the same inside the QZ as it was out, really, with the added pressure of not getting torn to pieces by the feral remains of civilization that lurked beyond the walls. So, okay, maybe a little more stressful, but not by much, as far as Tommy was concerned.

He just wanted Joel to feel like he could be relied upon, not like he had to be babysat or protected. He wanted to help.

He kept silent about this, however, choosing only to nod at Joel's advice. Something tightened in his stomach at the body on the ground; more likely than not, they were going to have to fight. They wouldn't be able to use their guns for fear of alerting the soldiers, which meant that things were probably going to get bloody.

No sooner had he pulled out his machete in the event of an attack that he heard the sound of distant footsteps, the erratic kind that could only mean one thing: a runner.

He crouched against a wall, trying to pinpoint the runner's location. It was close, too close, and any moment it would be upon them. He steadied himself, taking a few breaths, and--

As soon as it rounded the corner he struck, slicing across the belly and slamming its head into the wall. It let out a gurgle of protest as it slid to the ground in a heap, but a quick nudge with his boot revealed that it was dead.

Blood dripped from his machete and flecked the back of his hands, making him feel sick. He gave Joel a shaky smile as he dug an old rag out of his backpack's side pocket, using it to clean both his weapon and his hands. It wasn't perfect, nor was it particularly sanitary, but it would have to do.

"Guess that's a start," he said quietly, walking in Joel's direction and surveying the body at his feet. The air beyond Joel seemed to be a little cloudier than where they were standing at present; he knew it was probably just paranoia, but he dug out his mask anyway.

"We should probably keep moving."

Nothing to Worry About [Tommy & Joel]

Joel scanned the area, looking for the best path to their destination. Staying outside would be dangerous and they need to keep as much cover as they possibly could. He pushed forward towards one of the rundown buildings and hopped through a window. It still seemed sturdy enough to pass through. He had used it before and it hadn’t failed him, yet. 

He motioned for Tommy to follow him. “If you see anything that we could use, pick it up. You never know what we might come across.” 

Joel didn’t want to worry Tommy too much but the infected were a tricky bunch and it was never known when they might make an appearance. 

"Also, keep an eye out for spores." Joel said. "If you see any, then put the gas mask on immediately." 

Tommy hadn’t done many of these missions and Joel wasn’t about to let his brother mess up on his first one. He wanted to make sure they both made it back, safe and sound. He searched a couple desks and then moved onto the next room, making sure it was all clear. He noticed off in the corner, a man lying on the ground, unmoving. Joel approached the figure. He examined the man and realized he had been killed recently and by an infected. 

"Shit." 

#nothing to worry about #tw: blood

[mildmiller]

Tommy felt a little dismayed that Joel wouldn't let him help, but certainly not surprised. Joel always did like to do things himself, even if capable help was readily available. That was how he was. Most of the time Tommy would be just fine with that--to a point--but now, with an infection going around, Joel needed to save his strength. If he exhausted himself, as was certainly his wont, he could get sick.

But he said nothing, just shrugged. It wasn't worth the fight, at least for now. Maybe later he would try again.

"Sounds doable," he said amiably, trying to keep himself in optimistic mode. Going outside the walls was always dangerous, but hell, living within them was dangerous too. Their path was apparently a short one. How much trouble could they really get into?

After checking the area to be sure they weren't being watched, Tommy followed Joel through the spot of fencing and crawled out to the other side. He felt... different once he stood, freer somehow. The prospect of meeting up with more of the infected was an unsavory one, but there was something about the quarantine zone that was just oppressive. It felt nice to be a little bit more in control of his destiny.

They weren't out of the woods yet, though. There would be patrols around the wall, and they didn't want to get spotted for fear that they'd be captured--or worse, killed outright.

"You got a path through all this?" he whispered, not wanting to draw attention to himself. The area around the zone was a maze of burnt out buildings and abandoned cars, all relics of the life they had all left behind seemingly both yesterday and an eternity ago. It would be hard to navigate, that was for sure.

Nothing to Worry About [Tommy & Joel]

Joel took a step back as Tommy neared him and he shook his head. “It’s alright.” 

It was heavy but he would rather carry that load then put it upon his brother. If anyone was going to be doing the brunt of the work, it was Joel. And besides, he didn’t want to worry his brother anymore. Joel was feeling more fatigued than usual and this was his way of showing Tommy that he was alright. He could fight it off, he thought. No big deal. 

"We want to be back before nightfall." Joel said. "They aren’t too far outside the walls, so we drop this off and head straight back."

He looked over the fence and found a weak spot, which he managed to get open and crawl through. These jobs rarely went sour but he couldn’t get comfortable quite yet. There was always something lurking around outside.  And staying out during the night wasn’t the brightest idea. Things seemed to get worse with the infected and more bandits liked to be out. Nightfall gave them a certain advantage on unwary suspects and Joel didn’t like that idea too much. 

He scoped the area and then motioned for Tommy to follow him through the fence. 

#nothing to worry about

[mildmiller]

Tommy brightened up immediately when he saw Joel. His brother looked to be alright, although the bag he was carrying seemed heavy. That got Tommy worrying again: Joel couldn't exert himself too much, especially with infection in the air. That would make him more prone to getting sick.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he said, trying to sound as chipper as possible. "Want me to carry that? It looks heavy."

He moved to relieve his brother of the load but waited for Joel to actually say it was okay. Knowing Joel, he might refuse; Joel seemed to want to do things himself a lot lately. It bothered Tommy a little, but he wasn't particularly eager to say anything about it. He would always choose enduring over rocking the boat, especially when the water around them was possibly zombie-infested and waiting for somebody to fall out.

"How far are we going, anyway? Gonna be out all day or what?"

Nothing to Worry About [Tommy & Joel]

Sinus infection. Dammit, thought Joel. As if they really needed to add something to their worries, especially when he couldn’t even get antibiotics. He knew they had enough to spare but they didn’t care. They wanted ration cards and they got them. That’s all they cared about. 

He massaged his forehead, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His head had started to hurt and he felt a bit more fatigued than usual. Joel picked up a bag filled with food and other supplies to smuggle outside of the Quarantine Zone. He hoped this was enough; they couldn’t afford much and the shop owner would only allow so much. Even these people were getting more medicine than he could get his hands on. He walked in between alleys and kept out of sight before reaching the designated meeting spot. They hadn’t been able to forge papers quite yet and thus, they still had to take the hard way to get outside the walls. 

Tommy was standing off in the distance with his usual look of worry. It made Joel smirk. His younger brother was always the worrier and it always showed, at least to Joel it did. 

He finally neared and said, “Tommy, you ready?” 

#nothing to worry about

[mildmiller]

Nothing to Worry About [Tommy & Joel]

Tommy was worried.

He was usually a little bit concerned at all times, but when he awoke that morning, the knot in his stomach was twisted a little bit tighter than usual. It was just one word that had him in such a state, one word whispered upon a thousand lips: infection.

It just made him nervous. Though it would've been nice to have been desensitized to disease, what with the whole worldwide-infection-decimating-the-population thing, he couldn't help but dwell on the possibilities that lied in another infection. Maybe this new strain would finally put an end to humanity's desperate bid to survive; maybe this one was here to finish off what the last wasn't.

He knew he was being ridiculous. He knew that "infection" didn't mean brain infection, and yet he worried on.

Maybe the best way to stop the fear was to occupy himself.

Luckily he had just the thing. He left the Miller apartment ready for the adventure ahead, whatever that entailed, and tried to put thoughts besides the job at hand out of his mind.

It was just smuggling some food--not a big deal, right? And maybe he and Joel could actually find some antibiotics beyond the wall or something. There was hope... he just had to keep holding onto it.

With some trepidation, Tommy approached the designated meeting spot, hoping Joel would show up sooner or later. Joel had left much earlier than Tommy that morning, but before he'd gone they'd agreed to meet here.

He just hoped gathering the supplies had gone well.

#nothing to worry about #lwdevent03

[mildmiller]

Don't look so disappointed.

Got it. You can count on me, Joel. I've got your back.

Alright…

Just rest up and make sure you have your gas mask and something to defend yourself. There won’t be any violence planned but we never know if we’re gonna encounter any runners or not. Got that? 

#avec joel #and of course tommy's just like YEAH LET'S HELP PEOPLE

[mildmiller]

No! Really! Let's do it. I'm game.

Sure thing. I'll rest up. Anythin' we need to do to prepare beforehand?

Are you sure? Because you don’t sound it right now, Tommy.

But they would prefer us start tomorrow. 

#he's just relieved there's no violence involved u__u #er minimal violence #avec joel

[mildmiller]

Oh... food. Oh, yeah, that's great. Yeah. I can do that.

When do we start?

Smuggling operation. We need to get food and basic supplies out of the QZ. 

Nothing hurtful like weapons. Just medicine and things of that sort. 

#avec joel

[mildmiller]

What, exactly does it, uh, entail?

I, honestly, couldn’t tell you.

But I think that job is about to become real handy, soon.

#avec joel

[mildmiller]

Chronic Hero Syndrome

Chronic Hero Syndrome is an “affliction” of cleaner heroes where for them, every wrong within earshot must be righted, and everyone in need must be helped, preferably by Our Hero him- or herself. While certainly admirable, this may have a few negative side-effects on the hero and those around them. Such heroes could wear themselves out in their attempts to help everyone, or to become distraught and blame themselves for the one time that they’re unable to save the day.

Conflicting Loyalty

Many people have more than one thing they consider worthy of Undying Loyalty: religion, country, family and friends, promises, perhaps a cause or whatever the author imagines. If a character is lucky, these differing claims can actually reinforce one another. But what happens if they conflict? Then we have Conflicting Loyalty.

Friend to All Children

Describing a character as being fond of, or having a soft spot for, children is an automatic Pet the Dog since Children Are Innocent with bonus points if the kids like the character back.

Good Is Not Dumb

Good Is Not Dumb is the trope where a sincerely good, kind, and polite character is underestimated by others because of their kind nature. The subject is genuinely nice and honest, but the cynicism of others lead them to misread the character as The Ditz, a Gentleman Thief, or some other gullible or deceptive archetype. After all, no one really gets through life being kind and trusting to everyone, right? Wrong.

Handy Man

Usually a large amiable sort of man, good-natured, affable, physically strong and sometimes although not always good looking and in good physical shape, this is the guy who knows how to fix things, make things, and repair a host of problems around the home and garden. Probably a builder by trade, his idea of heaven is a toolbox, a great stack of wood, and a plan to work to.

Sympathetic Murderer

Sometimes writers will have a criminal who is intentionally sympathetic to the audience; sometimes to amplify the drama, sometimes to make the problem a true moral dilemma, and sometimes just because the story is Ripped from the Headlines, and the sympathetic part is necessary to get to the Headline in question.

The Idealist

A character who genuinely believes that their world is A World Half Full; that Humans Are Good, or at least that Rousseau Was Right and a person who will tell you that if you think it’s wrong to hope that you’re wrong every time. They will take ideals that others have for the future and will do everything they can to take them to fruition, sometimes going too far.

Think Nothing of It

After his heroic feat, the person he’s rescued or helped, or a whole crowd of spectators, gushes over The Hero. His response? It may be acted, or spoken, or merely thought, but it’s summoned up in a Stock Phrase: “Think Nothing of It” or “Don’t Mention It”

#lwdtask04 #task #*homogenous brooding look*

[mildmiller]

They're sayin' we only get three cards this week, Joel.

I'm worried. You think it's gonna be like this next week, too?

Looks like the ration line is a little out of sorts today.

#avec joel #lwdevent02

[mildmiller]

#lwdtask03 #lord my characters are so high-maintenance #at least tommy knows what he needs u__u #well mostly heh

[mildmiller]

#pic #keepin the lwd dash pretty one pic at a time #actually like everyone on the dash is pretty #and i'm a little mad about it

[mildmiller]

Task 02

Alignment: Neutral Good

You are 69.4% Good.  You are 17.9% Lawful. 

You do the best good that a person could be expected to do. You are devoted to helping others. You are willing to work with authority figures, but you do not feel any particular allegiance to them.

You are the stereotypical “Benefactor.” You believe in doing good without any particular bias for or against order.

Jung Personality: ENFJ

ENFJs are the benevolent 'pedagogues' of humanity. They have tremendous charisma by which many are drawn into their nurturant tutelage and/or grand schemes. Many ENFJs have tremendous power to manipulate others with their phenomenal interpersonal skills and unique salesmanship. But it's usually not meant as manipulation -- ENFJs generally believe in their dreams, and see themselves as helpers and enablers, which they usually are.

ENFJs are global learners. They see the big picture. The ENFJs focus is expansive. Some can juggle an amazing number of responsibilities or projects simultaneously. Many ENFJs have tremendous entrepreneurial ability.

ENFJs are, by definition, Js, with whom we associate organization and decisiveness. But they don't resemble the SJs or even the NTJs in organization of the environment nor occasional recalcitrance. ENFJs are organized in the arena of interpersonal affairs. Their offices may or may not be cluttered, but their conclusions (reached through feelings) about people and motives are drawn much more quickly and are more resilient than those of their NFP counterparts.

ENFJs know and appreciate people. Like most NFs, (and Feelers in general), they are apt to neglect themselves and their own needs for the needs of others. They have thinner psychological boundaries than most, and are at risk for being hurt or even abused by less sensitive people. ENFJs often take on more of the burdens of others than they can bear.

Enneagram: Type 2 Personality, "The Helper"

The caring, interpersonal type. Twos are empathetic, sincere, and warm-hearted. They are friendly, generous, and self-sacrificing, but can also be sentimental, flattering, and people-pleasing. They are well-meaning and driven to be close to others, but can slip into doing things for others in order to be needed. They typically have problems with possessiveness and with acknowledging their own needs. At their Best: unselfish and altruistic, they have unconditional love for others.

(Close second: Type 9, "The Peacemaker")

House: Hufflepuff (84)

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot, and treat them just the same."

Hufflepuff students are friendly, fair-minded, modest, and hard-working. A well-known member was Cedric Diggory, who represented Hogwarts in the most recent Triwizard Tournament.

Other houses: Ravenclaw (69), Gryffindor (60), Slytherin (44)

#lwdtask02 #task #oh tommy #so predictable #lovable but predictable