#episode one was ASTONISHING

[novelconcepts]

the truly problematic thing about having insanely vivid dreams just about every night--and i mean the kind of vivid where you remember details days or even weeks later, like it's just another normal-ass memory--is that you wind up losing track on an emotional level of what's real. like. i know that was a dream. obviously it was a dream. but some part of my brain misses it like it really happened. i am painfully, achingly nostalgic for people i've never met, places i've never been, shit that literally could not ever happen--but i feel as though i remember. which is just the most unhinged thing, right? like, i remember going on a run that took me over a fence into Disneyland, and i remember having to take a shortcut through a Chinese restaurant, but it was fine, because Erika Ishii was there, and they'd done this before, so no worries. right? no! obviously not! why do i remember this with such visceral clarity three weeks later?

oh, what's your favorite episode of this TV show? the one i dreamt. yeah, don't worry about it, it didn't make coherent sense, but it was in the feelings, right? my ship had the best fucking scene. no, of course i can't explain it to you, that's madness. it involved a rocking chair. don't worry about it. it's fine. it's super important i don't accidentally reference this in a fic someday, though.

this shit is deranged, dude. missing people who are quite literally my own brain's invention with an actor's face. missing places that are a meld of a movie i saw once, my childhood bedroom, the second floor of my high school, and inter-dimensional space. like. no! no, this shouldn't be a thing! is, though. the clarity of it. just fucking bananas. this has been happening to me my whole goddamn life.

#dreams #the worst thing about being a writer who has had these wildly vivid dreams forever #is the CLEAR awareness that they do not follow story-logic. dream-logic is special and near-impossible to properly bottle #so like. i can't even use these not-memories #i can't write my 'new favorite episode' and share it with the class #i can't even tell my wife about the shit i fully remember seeing and doing while i sleep. because i didn't. #the other night i had such an insane flying dream that i woke up and told her 'for the record: i do dream in color.' #and she went 'of course you do.' #and i was like 'yeah of course i do but also this one was actively switching between color and black and white so. guess it's for suresies. #anyway i haven't had a dreamless night in...a really fuckin long time and it's nuts. false memories. everywhere. #it's astonishing i don't forget more real shit to make room #tell you what though. it does make warring against parasocial instincts WORSE. i am a mature adult who knows better. #but good goddamn my subconscious isn't helping

[screechthemighty]

The real reason Moon Knight wasn’t in Infinity War/Endgame is that Steven would’ve absolutely verbally decimated Thanos within five minutes of hearing his stupid motivation monologue, I said what I said and also I’m right.

#moon knight #still amazed that steven did more to unpack why harrow is full of shit in one (1) episode #than the MCU ever did with Thanos across Infinity War and Endgame #astonishing!!!!! anyways steven would've murdered him on the spot

[starleska]

without any specifics: as a person who is very bad with body horror, thank you to Wild Blue Yonder for occupying all of my future nightmares from this moment forward 😭💔

#what an astonishing fucking episode tho. from start to finish - it's incredible #seriously one of my favourites of all time. Doctor Who is so BACK #wild blue yonder #wild blue yonder spoilers #doctor who #doctor who spoilers #dw #dw spoilers #doctor who 60th anniversary #doctor who 60th anniversary spoilers #starleskatalks

[lycanthian]

in a weird emotion rn

#it feels like evrything is falling apart btu not in a horrible soul crushing way #like im walking through a forest and the leaves are dissipating as i walk past them #but thats not like good either #theres bad stuff going on and its like. #ill survive #but i feel like i should be more concerned about a lot of it than i am #i dont know #it feels weird because i cant quite describe it #its entirely possible that this is the depression episode hitting again and if it is: i pray it will be swifter in its departure this time #i pray it wont be like the december one #or if it is at least let it hold from impact until after i move #because i think packing and then subsequently unpacking a whole houses worth of stuff within a monthw ill not fare well if i am like that #im still a little astonished at how bad december really was for me #i didnt think ive ever felt that bad in my life. currently im on the verge again i think #this probably means i should go to bed. sleep off the demons for the night. tomorrow i go to the eye doctor and see about getting contacts #lycan howls

[oceanwithinsblog]

run fast, laugh hard, be kind ♡

#aw doctor #twelve i'm gonna miss you #i'm honestly astonished at capadi's interpretation of the doctor #love him so much #twelve is so iconic and such a buttercup #a tear ran down my cheek as he said i let you go before regenerating #also one season of bill potts and nardole is not enough i need more of them #i liked missy this season and was excited at the return of the master but idk about the end there #also !!! twice upon a time freaking rocked #i'm gonna miss twelve playing the electric guitar and going around with this sonic shades #unreachable levels of swag and coolness i'd say #btw s10 has some of the most amazing dw episodes ever ngl it might even end up being one of my fav seasons overall #current doctors top3 is eleven - ten - twelve #bbc dw

[leebrontide]

One thing that's likely not visible to all younger queers is that little kids shows have gotten radically queerer in the last 10 years.

I'm not just talking about Owl House, Kippo etc, much as I love them.

I mean like stuff for kindergardners.

Characters in Strawberry Shortcake and Superhero Girls and more have gay parents just unremarkably in the background. That was unthinkable 15 years ago.

But the thing that shocks me utterly is the casual inclusion of nonbinary characters.

Dee and Friends in Oz, Polly Pocket, Craig of the Creek...it seems like half the shows my daughter watches have nonbinary characters just seamlessly included. Not even a Very Special Episode. Just...here's the scarecrow in charge of scarecrow village who uses they/them pronouns that everyone just uses without comment.

I was almost 30 before I found the word nonbinary. For my kid to just grow up with this is astonishing.

Conservatives are so mad because it's INCREDIBLY hard to just put this kind of inclusion back away. Once something is normal, and clearly not causing anything bad to happen, it's hard to convince people to be scared of it.

[royalninja]

listening to Gravity Falls episode commentaries is great. Alex Hirsch nearly worked himself to death constantly. Grunkle Stan was nearly voiced by Matt Chapman of Homestar Runner. Literally nothing aside from the twist about Stan having a twin was planned more than a few episodes in advance. The zodiac wheel meant nothing and consisted of random symbols from the first 7 episodes because the intro was animated after those were done. Alex came up with the term “search for the blind eye” to be an extra bit for the between-season shorts before deciding to actually have a payoff for that setup and writing Society of the Blind Eye. Bill was meant to be a joke character and when Alex suggested that he be a real villain Michael Rianda responded “You, my friend, have lost the plot.” Bill getting one episode in the spotlight was basically chance and he only became the main villain of season 2 because he was so popular with the fans. The reveal of the portal at the end of season 1 was suggested by Mike without thinking it through and he left before the next season and the other writers were SO ANNOYED after that went through because they somehow had to keep that plot going for the 10 episodes it’d take to actually pay off. I am genuinely astonished that this show came together as well as it did at all.

#text #gravity falls

[chuplayswithfire]

also the show proving that stede does know ed very well in fact by literally countering the argument that he was romanticizing ed or didn't understand how ed felt by virtue of him being able to sum up what ed was feeling and experiencing in episodes one and two with perfect understanding: that ed was trying to burn the world or die with it, that ed was trying to get himself killed by fighting and fighting until someone took him out. that he did not need to be told this, because NO ONE wanted to tell him anything, that he was not astonished to learn this: he knows the man he loves. sure he's upset because he knows him hurting ed contributed to this and because he's not thrilled his friends suffered, but ultimately he knew and understood this about ed without needing to be told by anyone.

he knows his guy.

#ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 #ofmd meta

[demon-teletubbies]

One of the most important parts of this film is the design of each individual character. Due to the sheer number of characters introduced in this film, the way each character is presented visually provides development and world building that would otherwise be glossed over for the sake of time. By incorporating the Sex Pistols font, lace code (blue meaning killed a cop), bold colors, and other symbols representative of the 70s English Punk scene into Hobie's character design, a backstory is given to an otherwise enigmatic character. Including watercolor-style backgrounds that changed along with the mood of the scene Into Gwen's world, emotions could be conveyed without the use of dialogue which contributed to the complexity of the character. Interestingly, Miguel's design was very discordant. While his suit was futuristic, electronic to the point of glitching out and staticing when Miles overloaded it with energy, his face noticeably still had its sketch lines, giving him rough and unfinished feel. I believe this is a stylistic choice that plays into the ongoing theme that Miguel is not quite where he is supposed to be, as seen in Peters joke about how he is the only unfunny Spiderman or the fact that he's seemingly using synthesized venom to act as Spiderman. Ultimately the best design character was the Spot. I am astonished that the writers and directors of this movie developed a villain that was only in a handful of TV show episodes and comics, never being taken seriously, into a genuinely frightening character with a serious vendetta. Much of this is done through the development that the Spot's design has throughout the movie. As the characters style shifts from that of Miles' own Earth to 2D schizophrenic crayon drawing, it demonstrates that the character has developed from the typical bad-guy-of-the-week to a serious threat, without having to take too much time actually focusing on the character. The character jarringly pops out against the otherwise bright and three-dimensional animations in the rest of the film. I am excited to see the 2D version in action in the third film.

i’m so incredibly unwell about this movie this is actually insane.

#across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #spider gwen #hobie brown #spider punk #miles morales #the spot #miguel o'hara #spiderman #into the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #marvel #i’m so unwell #charater design

[sweetnans]

"K', new situation"

The remote was out of your reach because you kept pausing the shows, and Katsuki had enough of watching every episode like there was a connection problem.

"Hit me," he said, resting his head on the wall of your dorm.

It became a habit that you and him watched shows together at your dorm, every Thursday night, no excuse. Last week, you started watching "Queen Charlotte," and even though Katsuki didn't want to watch the show, you convinced him to give it a chance, and now, he was the one who didn't want you to pause it.

"What if...-no, no, ok, let me start over." You tripped on your questions, and Katsuki found it adorable. "Imagine this, you are royalty and someone with more power than you, force you to marry someone you don't know...are you following me?" You paused at his quizzed face.

"Yeah, I am," he simply answered.

"So they force you to marry someone you don't know and you have no interest in. What would you do?"

"Mm, I would probably cheat on her multiple times, make her so unhappy, and be a dick of a husband," he side eyed you while answering because he couldn't get his eyes off of the screen and because he wanted to watch you freaking out at his answer. He could do both.

"Are you serious?" You couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth. "Jesus, Katsuki, what an asshole"

You stomped to his body and reached the remote to put the show on pause.

"Not again. Why do you do this to me?" He whined. He was getting upset, but you were more upset because he wasn't taking serious the situation game.

"Why are you like that? Don't you think that maybe an arrangement marriage is the perfect occasion to find true love? You obviously skipped a step, but now you have all the time in the world to know a person, the details, the way they like their tea in the morning, the things that make them upset. I think it's lovely and romantic. " You day dreamed, and Katsuki couldn't bear the fact that you and him were so different. He liked it, finding a way to make opposites attract situations happened in his life.

"I think it's opposite ends. There's only two ways to go. It's extremely good or extremely bad"

"Yeah, you're right," you gave in. He was the one who didn't believe in love after all. You've had multiple boyfriends in the span of two years, always falling for the jerks, like Katsuki always said, but you never denied the opportunity of starting over. You put the show again and sank on your spot.

Your quietness made Katsuki uncomfortable. You spent the rest of the episode without pusing the show, not for situation game or going to pee and that was very weird of you.

Before the next episode started, Katsuki himself paused it.

"You didn't like what I said," he stated looking at you.

You were dissociating, actually, you weren't mad at him, you were just thinking about him, about how you were feeling towards his feelings, you were upset because you knew that If you had feelings for him (that you already had) he wouldn't give himself a chance with you and you would be head over heels for him, making the situation unfair to you and your feelings. What you were thinking wasn't any close to the situation that you gave him. It wasn't something settled between you and him. It was more about his vision of love, the opposite ends example.

"No, it's not that it's just -" you sighed. You didn't want to make things awkward between Katsuki and you. You found a steady ground where you could enjoy each other's company without making it any weird. "I don't know, Bakugo."

He seemed astonished.

"Mm, last name basis now, huh? Must be something serious. " he moved from his seat to put his figure in front of you. "Use your words, I know you can fucking talk"

Sometimes, he called yourself for eating his ear off because you couldn't shut up. He was trying to make you feel comfortable with him again.

"See, it's just... I'm feeling kinda worried about you because I've never seen you with someone else. I want you to find love, to be happy, to face love, and dare to take a chance on someone, you know? And maybe I'm misunderstanding things here, and you don't want any of that. " You stumble through your words, taking his face in. He looked like he was thinking, but his eyes were analyzing your face like it was the first time he ever saw you. "I don't want you to think that I'm pitying you -"

"I do want to experience love," he said, glancing briefly to your lips and then your eyes. "And maybe I'm just waiting for the right one," he muttered, getting closer to you.

You were stoic in your place. Thoughts running in your head, the gears in your brain trying to figure what was happening and if it was just a dream. Maybe you were just imagining things, and now you feared to take the wrong step.

"You do?" You asked, feeling his presence in your space asking whatever came to your mind so you could have more time to think about this situation.

"Yeah, but she keeps dating assholes"

He grinned a little, trying to give away the slightest clue about his feeling but the exact amount of it so you could realize what he was saying.

For his own luck, you were pretty clever sometimes.

"Well, maybe, no one ever showed her better." You squeezed yourself between his legs while he was still sitting with his legs crossed. He parted his legs at your movement and grabbed your waist to keep you close. "I dated assholes because you were too busy demonstrating you didn't care when I dated them"

"Is that so?" He asked humming.

"Yeap," you nodded like a child, playing with your hands in your lap, concentrating in them.

"I'm sorry for not interrupting sooner," he moved his head to his side, trying to catch your eyes.

"You better be," you told him, giggling. It was an unexplored field. You were distracting yourself for the upcoming event.

"We haven't even kissed yet, and you already have an attitude with me? Get a fucking grip" he joked while taking your hands apart.

"Jeez, you should check yourself and look for the stick that's up in your asshole. You are so dense sometimes. "

You pushed him slightly, and he tugged your hands against his chest, caging you without any escape routes.

"Just shut the fuck up"

Without any warning, he crashed his lips against yours with feverish force. His grip in your hands fell so he could touch every part of your body thoroughly. Your arms clinged behind his back, closing the gap between the two of you. Your fingers touched the nape of his neck, tugging his hair every time he bit your lips.

You two were out of air, so you were forced to step back a little. His nose touched yours, and he gave you soft pecks in your lips before opening his mouth.

"No more dating assholes" he warned.

"Mmhm," you nodded, biting your lip. "You better stop acting like one then"

#bnha bakugou #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo headcanons #mha bakugo katsuki #mha x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #mha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #bnha #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha

[swampjawn]

No anime production can keep up maximum quality the whole way through the run, just by the nature of the way anime is produced, so it's up to the less important episodes to set the overall bar for quality.

Dungeon Meshi episode 9 was one of these episodes, and it's actually astonishing how consistent this show is, the closer it gets to the big mid-season set piece! And a lot of that comers down to smart allocation of resources, and consistent themes for each episode which are conveyed through the animation!

The previous episode was surprisingly flashy, but unlike that one which relied heavily on the style and creative vision of certain well-known animators (Ichigo Kanno and Kai Ikarashi in particular)

This one takes more of a subtle approach. But while creative energy is clearly being conserved, (and in fact some cuts look a little wonky and could have used some more correction) they still managed to make the episode feel full of life by focusing on the most important parts, and giving the episode a cohesive vibe by consistently emphasizing one element: liquid animation and reflections.

People are constantly being reflected in water in this episode, and it's a fitting close to this very aquatic section of the story.

Or take this shot - we finally actually get to see how resurrection works and the animation in the blood here emphasizes the importance of this moment over what otherwise is a still image.

The blood could have just slurped simple back in (like it does for Marcille later in the episode) but because this is an important moment, it instead lifts into the air and forms these droplets that cast shadows on Namari's face, and swirls at an increasing pace almost like water circling a drain.

Or this one where Marcille scoops up a cup of dead undine in a simple, but beautiful cut - animated on 2's, instead of 3's like the majority of the rest of the episode, which is just enough to make it feel really fluid and smooth.

And a bunch more!

I go more into detail about these shots and many more in this video where I broke down the whole episode!

You want to be COOL don't you? Well all the HIP AND COOL people are watching this video, so you'd better join 'em or else you wont be HIP AND COOL AND RADICAL.

#dungeon meshi #mini essay #anime #animation analysis #video #laios touden #marcille donato #namari #senshi #Youtube

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Co-Stars

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Sumarry: Y/n and Callum's best moments that made the internet panic!

Waring: use of Y/n/ Swearing/ kissing/

A/n: This story is not related to the childhood friend to lover one.

To say they had chemistry off screen would be an understatement. Y/n and Callum were getting along too well-off screen. It sparked rumors of them dating their multiple interviews were made into short YouTube videos that were tilted: Y/n and Callum flirting with each other for 4:24 minutes. In those videos, we could see their best moments.

-

‘’You obviously get real woman to dance with you, Austin you get Meatball the dog’’ the interviewer stated. Y/n chuckled as she looked at Austin. ‘’Yeah, Meatball is an amazing actor, great dance partner, but heavier than you think. But don’t tell him that.’’ He answered. ‘’Yeah, don’t tell him that’’ Y/n and Callum said at the same time, making them giggle. ‘’Did he do boot camp?’’ the interviewer asked. Austin was saying his answer, but a joke came to Callum’s mind. ‘’He did bark camp’’ he said. Y/n laughed at his joke, but since the tree actors were tired, they all started to laugh for minutes. ‘’I’m so sorry’’ Y/n said, laughing. She put her hands on Callum’s thigh to stop her from falling off her chair. ‘’Don’t fall’’ Callum laughed. Since she was between the two boys, they both tried to catch her, they succeeded, and they were able to calm down.

-

After this interview, people started to talk about how they said the same thing, how Y/n laughed to Callum’s joke and how Austin was third wheeling. But when they did a group interview, the speculations jumped.

-

‘’Obviously, it’s a men cast, but we do have some amazing woman as well, boys can you talk to us about that’’ Josh, the interviewer asked. The crowd screamed when Barry pointed to Y/n and mouthed that she was amazing. ‘’I mean, Y/n is just amazing. The way she bodied her character and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and yeah, it was astonishing. We were all impressed by her performance in episode 3’’ Austin said. She thanked the blonde. ‘’Like Austin said, I remember in one of the scenes in an upcoming episode, we watched her act and we felt intimated by her, cause her character is badass and this powerful woman, she’s not afraid to yell at someone and seeing the sweet, polite Y/n, I can say it, it’s in the trailer, but fake punch a guy that was two times taller than her was impressive as fuck’’ Callum said. Y/n blushed; she remembered the day they shot that scene. ‘’Yeah, when Gary said cut, they were all looking at me like, so impressed of what I just did, it was fun.’’ She added.

-

The comments following that interview were about the fact that she blushed after Callum’s compliment. Paparazzies were trying to get them to talk about a possible relationship, but the two actors denied anything between them. Even the other actors were getting asked if there was anything between Y/n and Callum. It was starting to become a problem, but the P.R team thought it was great to promote the story, so they didn’t do anything to shut the rumors down.

-

Drew Barrymore was sitting next to Austin, they were having a moment, Y/n and Callum were starting to feel left out. But now, Drew was talking about her date that she has tonight. ‘’But what if you get weird vibes from the start?’’ She asked. ‘’Then run’’ Y/n and Callum said at the same time, making them smile. ‘’You two are always timed, you both say the same thing, all the time’’ Austin laughed. ‘’We’re connected.’’ Y/n says. ‘’But back to your date’’ Callum said as he put his arms on the couch, but it went behind Y/n’s shoulder, it was like he was putting his arm around her shoulder. ‘’I mean, Y/n what would you do?’’ Drew asked. ‘’Uh, just enjoy the dinner, it’s a date, have fun! And you have Austin to save you. Or Callum and I could go at the restaurant in disguise, in a fake date, to help you.’’ ‘’Is that just an excuse to take Callum out on a date?’’ Drew teased. Y/n starts to laugh, Callum too. ‘’Moving on!’’ Y/n said, while laughing.

-

But what really sparked the rumor to the max, was when the went to the premiere of Master of the Air. She was dressed in a black one suit, but the top was a black corset, she looked amazing and sexy. The hole cast was looking good, but when Y/n stepped on the carpet, she got out the same car as Callum and they both had red cheeks.

-

‘’Now we saw you getting out of the car with your co-star, but you guys have been really close during the press tour, can you tell me about it’’ The interviewer asked to Y/n. ‘’I mean, he’s an amazing person, and I love him. People are just going crazy over us’’ she said. Callum went to behind her. ‘’What are you talking about, baby?’’ he said. Y/n rolled her eyes at the nickname. But she decided to go along with it. ‘’We were talking about you, honey. About our amazing chemistry’’ she said. They both chuckled and finished the interview. ‘’The internet is going to blow up with what you just said. You’re not very subtle, baby.’’ She said, teasing him. ‘’I mean, we’re pretty obvious now that we’re together’’ he says in her ear. ‘’Should we give the internet what they want?’’ she asks. ‘’I’ve been waiting for this’’ he said, grabbing her waist and kissing her. The crowd yelled when they both kissed, finally announcing their relationship…

#callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #callum turner #master of the air

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (7/?)

Part summary: Six weeks later, Leigh decides to throw herself a birthday party.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.600+ | Warnings : None | Author's Note: Just a reminder that this doesn't strictly follow canon events. Borrowed some elements from the actual birthday episode, but it's going to go very differently for us :) Enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

-

Six weeks later

“Hey! Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Leigh’s mom calls out from the kitchen as Leigh hurries down the stairs. She runs straight into Amy’s arms, a ball of energy, drawing bewildered looks from her mom and sister. Ever since Matt died, they are used to Leigh either being too quiet or too snarky. Today, of all days, they were expecting her to be something else much worse. But it seems they're mistaken as Leigh turns to Jules, yanks her in close, and kisses her hair.

Jules and Amy share a look. To say this as an interesting development would be an understatement. It's her birthday—her first one without Matt, who had been at the heart of her celebrations for the last decade. They hope Leigh finds some happiness, truly, but these past several months have taught them to temper their expectations.

They keep their silent exchange to themselves, watching as Leigh picks up a croissant and takes a heart bite out of it, her face lit up with the widest smile. “Happy birthday,” Jules grins, pushing a small envelope towards Leigh. “Got something for you.”

“Thank you!” Leigh exclaims. She eagerly opens the envelope to find a bunch of homemade coupons, each promising some sort of favor from Jules, good for the next year. They range from “Will listen to your rants for 30 minutes, no interruptions” to “I will restart the book club you tried to get me and mom to do and actually read the books this time.”

Laughing, Leigh flips through them. “These are brilliant, Jules. Might have to use one today,” she says, already thinking about which one she'll cash in first. Then, she pulls Jules in a bear hug, as if it’s the most exquisite present she’s ever gotten in her lifetime. 

“You okay?” Leigh asks when she notices Amy staring at her.

Jules gives their mom a warning look as Amy struggles to come up with a response. “Nothing, I just… I didn’t think you’d be doing quite so well today. That’s all.”

“I didn’t either but we all make choices and I’m choosing to have a great birthday. So, let’s do this thing!” Leigh says in a manner that Jules feels too over the top. Amy starts laying out the plans for the evening and Leigh has a blank look by the time she finishes running them through it.

“I think I want a party,” Leigh announces. It’s met with astonishment, as if it’s the last thing her family’s expecting to hear.

“You do?” Amy.

“A party?” Jules.

Leigh isn’t perturbed by their reactions. “I do. I want a party,” she confirms. She delights at the dumb look on their faces as she reiterates, “Tonight. I want a big party.”

-

“You’re not having a big party.”

Danny calls her up the minute he gets her Facebook invite. He's partly furious about receiving the invite through Facebook, given that they’re “kind of seeing each other”, and partly incredulous because he couldn’t believe she’s making plans on her birthday without considering the fact that they are “kind of seeing each other”.

Leigh, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she flips through a recipe book on her kitchen counter, rolls her eyes so hard she worries they might stick that way. 

“Well, yes, Danny, that's exactly what I'm doing,” she fires back matter-of-factly.

Danny's frustration simmers on the other end of the line. He had already made plans, not bothering to consult Leigh because he assumed that their day would be spent together—privately, just the two of them.

“You didn’t think I’d have something planned?” he asks, more hurt than angry.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because we’re dating, Leigh,” he says, appalled that he needs to remind her. Leigh takes a second, biting her lip. Maybe it was a bit inconsiderate that she didn’t consider Danny when she impulsively decided she wanted a big celebration. But that flicker of guilt is short lived. 

After all, she couldn’t remember the last time she’s actually excited for something, the last time she thought, I deserve to be happy. 

“Yeah, well, I can still do what I want, Danny,” she retorts.

“Now you’re acting like a child,” he snaps.

Leigh feels a flash of anger, then something else—determination. “Maybe so. Come to the party or not, I don’t care. I'm going to have fun, Danny, with or without you.”

“Fine. Just don’t—”

Leigh doesn’t let him finish. With a press of a button, the call ends, his words cut off mid-sentence. Too often, she’s been criticized for not always following through with her declarations, but it's a different game when she's out to prove something.

-

Drew steps carefully around a minefield of clothes and makeup scattered on the floor to get to Leigh. She's curled up over her laptop, one leg propped on the chair, chin on her knee, in a posture that makes Drew wince. “For a fitness instructor, you're not exactly a poster child for back health,” he says, announcing himself to his best friend.

Leigh's head snaps up at Drew's voice, but instead of annoyance, a smirk quickly spreads across her face. “Good thing I'm not a fitness instructor anymore, then,” she says. Then she turns her attention back to her laptop as if he’s not there. Drew moves to sit on the edge of her bed, flops down on it like a ragdoll and stares at the cobwebs on the corners of the ceiling. 

“I know what you’ve been doing, Leigh,” he says.

Leigh is unphased, keeps typing. Then, as if she’s just heard his remark, mutters a distracted, “What have I been doing?”

“Avoiding. You've been avoiding writing about anything that's even remotely related to love or grief,” Drew says.

This time, Leigh stops typing. She sighs, a long, drawn-out exhale that seems to carry the weight of the world. “I’m busy, Drew. This gig is eating up all my time.” 

After leaving the Beautiful Beast, she took on a part-time job as a remote project manager. With Matt gone, she's left to deal with the debts they racked up together. She loved her studio job, really did, and wasn't fazed by the slim paycheck because it helped her mom out. Being surrounded by family has been a huge support (despite her occasional squabbles with Jules), but she knows she'll need to move out on her own again at some point. Ultimately, the pressing need for financial stability has pushed her to seek out better-paying opportunities.

Drew straightens up, leaning in with his elbows on his knees. “Bullshit.”

Leigh looks over her shoulder at him with mild irritation. “What do you want me to say, Drew?”

“You're meeting your weekly quota on other topics,” he points out. “Makes me wonder if bringing you back to the advice column was…premature.”

It sounds like a threat, but coming from him, she understands it as an early warning in case the senior editor begins to notice the issue. Leigh smiles thinly, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why does it even matter which topics I choose to engage with? First off, I'm collaborating with other writers now; it's not entirely my show anymore. Secondly, I've been doing a good job—”

“A great job, actually.”

Leigh tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. “So, what's the problem?”

“They're expecting you to lead on those topics because you've lived through them. They're looking for more authenticity in the pieces,” Drew explains. 

Leigh looks out the window, seemingly lost in thought, then shakes her head slightly. “What, you want me to write about how I started picking fights left and right after Matt died? Do you want me to detail my attempts at fixing his depression, as if it were as manageable as setting a broken bone?”

“You don’t have to delve into the most personal details.”

“It can’t be authentic if it’s not personal,” Leigh sneers. 

“Just think about it, okay?” Drew presses, a little desperately.

Leigh chews on the inside of her cheek, mulling it over. There's a whole part of her story she hasn't even touched on with him—the string of one-night stands with Danny, the way she's snapped at anyone who dared to disagree with her in the past few weeks. She's been on edge, not really liking the person she's been, and the thought of putting that version of herself out there for everyone to see is nothing short of humiliating. 

As a writer, she knows what to say, the same way a psychologist would know what to do even if they don’t need to have all sorts of human experience to help someone in every situation. But she also questions her right to preach behavior to others when she's far from having it all figured out herself. Regardless of her indecision, she knows Drew’s not going to drop it until she at least tells him she’ll consider.

“Fine,” she says, with a nod. “I'll sift through the inbox and tackle the ones I feel up to.”

“There you go, that's my girl,” Drew says, visibly relaxing. But then, a moment later, he feels a stab of guilt for showing up mostly because of work. It's been a while since they've hung out, their usual brunch dates falling through one after the other, and their daily chats have shriveled up to a few messages a week, with mostly just memes from Leigh that Drew hardly ever acknowledges. Eventually, Leigh just stopped sending them.

Drew fidgets, avoiding eye contact for a second before it dawns on him—he hasn't just been busy; he's been dodging Leigh on purpose ever since he popped the question to his partner. He was worried Leigh wouldn’t take the news well, considering the things she’s been going through. But if he’s being brutally honest with himself, a part of him just didn't want her grief to dampen his excitement. He was worried her sadness might dampen his spirits, and in a bid to preserve his own happiness, he’d left her out in the cold. He hadn't stopped to think that maybe he owed Leigh more than just her column.

“So, uh, how’s it going?” Drew asks cautiously.

“It’s going,” Leigh offers. Heartfelt talks aren't their thing, so Leigh decides to brush it off fast. “By the way, I'm throwing a birthday party for myself.” It comes out a bit more cheerfully than she feels.

“A party? That's great, Leigh!” Drew exclaims. “And hey, if you need help setting up or anything, just let me know.”

“Yeah,” she forces a smile, not as enthusiastic as she was about the idea at breakfast. “It's tonight, though. You're coming, right? And bring anyone fun you know.”

“Wow, OK,” Drew nods before his face morphs into a grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, is this where you're planning to hard launch your new relationship? At your party?”

Leigh’s eyes sharpen into slits. “You know about Danny?”

“Jules told me,” he says.

Rolling her eyes, Leigh retorts, “Let me guess, she told you so you'd join the haters club?”

“Nah,” Drew shrugs, his smile bright and sunny. “Danny's okay, I guess. If you're happy, I'm happy.”

She hasn’t been not happy lately. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it sure beats being on her own. So maybe she is—or at least, on her way.

“Thanks, Drew,” she murmurs thoughtfully.

Drew makes himself comfy, chin in hand, looking like he's all set for one of their marathon catch-ups. "So, how did you and Danny even start? Tell me everything."

-

Leigh's trunk is a one-can band, banging and clanging with every turn. Her groceries create a beat, something to fill in the lack of sound in her car. It’s how she drives these days—in utter silence. Before, she wouldn't even think of heading out without the perfect playlist, which often took her an extra five to fifteen minutes after settling into the driver's seat. But these days, as soon as the key is in the ignition, she twists it and takes off, not even waiting for the car to warm up.

Organizing a party by herself (with Jules' indispensable assistance, of course) and extending invites to her entire Facebook friends list has turned into quite the ruse. She's seasoned enough to temper her expectations—knowing well that not everyone who RSVP'd “yes” will show, and that some who didn't bother to RSVP might just surprise her by showing up. So, she's stocked up on as much food as her sedan can hold.

While Leigh's mind wanders to what snacks to whip up and what sauces to pair them with, she accidentally ends up on a lane that forces a left turn instead of going straight. This little misstep means she's got to take the scenic route home, which, by pure coincidence, takes her right past your clinic's street.

Her heartbeat quickens, though it shouldn't. There's no reason for it. She hasn't seen you in a month, not since the night she made a bold declaration on her bedroom door.

Leigh never planned on actually liking you as a person. Initially, her motive was purely to get a closer look, to dissect what it was about you that caught Matt's eye, what you possessed that she lacked. However, the answer to that mystery didn't remain elusive for long after spending a little time with you. You had this kindness about you, soft and easy, something Leigh’s always found just out of her reach. She prides herself on being decent enough but next to you, she feels a bit more like sandpaper to your silk.

Matt was like that too—gentle, easygoing. Leigh is well aware of her own rough edges, her sharp corners that don't quite align with Matt's smoother ones—and, by extension, yours. You and Matt had more in common than just interests; you both saw and reacted to the world in similar ways. Finding out that you and Matt were alike in important ways, in ways she wasn't, is something she's still learning to cope with.

As she nears your clinic, her eyes instinctively search it out, a habit she can't seem to break. 

This time, her timing is impeccable; just as she glides by, you step outside with a puppy in your arms, licking your face all over. You catch sight of her car from a distance, and you couldn’t stop the surprise that flashes across your face. As she drives past, you give her a little wave, puppy still in tow. Leigh cracks a small smile, then throws on her aviators, maybe trying to hide a bit more than her eyes. She sneaks one last look in the rearview, catching you watching her car disappear down the street before you head back into the clinic.

-

As soon as she gets home and is safely out of the car, she opens her messages.

The last text you sent her says, “I'm sorry. I hope we can still be friends,” sent three days after the encounter in her bedroom. She didn't respond to it, and you didn't push any further or impose yourself on her.

She wishes she had at least reacted with a heart or sent a smiley face to your message. Maybe then, inviting you to her party tonight wouldn’t feel so awkward. Nevertheless, she manages to type out a quick invite and extends to you the courtesy of bringing a plus one, someone you believe would be good company.

Your response arrives within five seconds of her hitting send.

“Thank you, I'll be sure to drop by :)” - Y/N

Satisfied, Leigh sets her phone aside. Now, she can focus on making those Deviled eggs.

-

The dress she's pulled from Jules's closet is a bold choice: deep black with a plunging neckline and a hem that flirts with daring. It's sexy, but not quite Leigh's usual style—and that's exactly why she loves it. It clings to her in all the right places, promising a confidence that Leigh isn't entirely sure she feels. Her hair, which is normally pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, hangs loose and wavy. She tops off her outfit with a slick of red lipstick and layers of dark eyeliner. 

With about an hour to spare before her guests are due to arrive, Leigh decides it's the perfect time to follow through on a promise she made to Drew. She logs into the shared inbox of the advice column she co-manages with two other writers at Basically News. Leigh scrolls through the submissions, Drew’s words playing on repeat in her head. He had a point. Maybe people don't always need the right answers—answers she hardly uses herself. Perhaps what they really need is someone to affirm what they're already feeling, to say it's okay to follow their gut, to be themselves.

She reads an interesting entry from one EspressoEyes:

“Do you think it's too much for me to give a puppy to this woman I like? I'm not even sure she likes me back (or like me in general 😣), but it's her birthday, and I feel like a puppy could be exactly what she needs at this moment.”

Leigh reads the message, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. Personally, she muses, she'd welcome a puppy from just about anyone. But that's just her, especially with the rollercoaster of a year she's had—she's at a point where the gesture, no matter who it comes from, would be a welcome slice of joy.

Thinking it over, she starts replying, “A puppy is a big gesture—it can be an overwhelming gift for some. It might even be seen as too forward, especially in certain relationships.Yet, a gift is a gift. Sometimes, you need to just go for it, without apologies. If her feelings don't align, she'll let you know. She has to, because giving a puppy is essentially a love declaration, in case you hadn't realized. And who knows? She might feel the same about you. Just make sure she's actually up for the responsibility of a pet. They're for life, not just for birthdays.”

She signs off with her pen name—Gigi Herrel—a clever anagram of her name as it would have been had she taken Matt's last name in marriage: Leigh Greer. Though it never quite felt like her own. She only used it when she came back to Basically News in obeisance to his passing. Drew has granted her the autonomy to publish her responses without his oversight (“Just make sure your grammar is perfect,” he said), so Leigh doesn’t think twice before publishing her response.

Leigh moves on to browse through other submissions, this time, on those related to marriage and loss—the very subjects she promised Drew she would tackle. She’s been in those shoes, still feels like she's wearing them. With a deep breath, she clicks on one and dives right into it. Her first attempt at a response feels inadequate, prompting her to hit delete and start anew. This process repeats itself, one draft after another, until she has five versions sitting in front of her, none of which feel right. With a huff, she deletes them all.

Just then the doorbell rings, pulling her out of her advice-column vortex. Leigh glances around, momentarily disoriented. It takes her a moment to recall that there's a party happening downstairs, and she's meant to be enjoying herself.

-

She’s halfway down the stairs when Jules's eyes land on her. Leigh freezes, as if she’s been caught red-handed. “I…couldn’t find the coupon for borrowing your clothes.”

Jules just smirks and arches an eyebrow, taking in Leigh in her dress. “Oh please, as if I ever keep track. Besides, that was just gathering dust after my ‘slutty Halloween phase’ as you so lovingly called it.”

“Cool! Perfect!” Leigh says, ignoring the backhanded comment. Her focus immediately turns to the front door as another guest arrives. “Hey, Dad!” she calls out.

Leigh’s dad walks in with his partner, and she greets them with a warmth that's been rare these days. He hands her a large, beautifully wrapped box. Leigh grasps the gift with both hands, shaking it gently, much like a child on Christmas morning. She’s thanking them when an old friend from high school she hasn’t seen in forever walks through the door, a bottle of wine in hand. Her mom swoops in like a hawk, reminding everyone it's a dry party in support of Jules's sobriety, and the wine is swiftly traded for a mocktail.

For the next hour, the house fills up. Leigh finds herself out back, tending to snacks, when a small line of people forms to chat with her. They each ask if she’s doing okay, their condolences tucked neatly between cheerful birthday wishes. Leigh’s smiling, but it's so fake even she is not buying it, mentally blacklisting half of these people for next time.

Just when the parade of condolence callers is beginning to fray her patience, one of her actual favorite humans finally shows up, saving her mood from souring completely. Drew looks striking in a simple black polo shirt, so much so that it reminds Leigh of the time Matt got all jealous over him, until Leigh let him in on the secret that he plays for the other team.

He passes her a little envelope, his birthday offering—a gift card. Leigh’s barely expressed her thanks over the simple present when he jumps right into feedback on her latest advice column. 

“Read your puppy counsel on my way here. It felt a bit... casual, don’t you think?”

Leigh smirks up at him, arms crossed, the gift card crinkling between her forearms. “Just say it's terrible advice if that's what you mean.”

Drew purses his lips before relenting. “Fine. It was terrible advice.”

“Expect more of that if I tackle the stuff I’ve been avoiding. Still think it’s a good idea?” Leigh says, nodding like it’s exactly what she wants to hear. Drew lets out a sigh, swiftly steering the conversation away before their playful banter escalates into a disagreement. With Leigh, he knows all too well that the edge of an argument is always closer than it seems.

“Anyway, happy birthday, again,” he says, trying to lighten the mood again. “Ryan's tied up with work stuff, totally wiped, but he did wish you a happy birthday.”

Leigh’s face hardens slightly at the mention of Ryan. She’s been harboring this nagging thought that Ryan dislikes her, a suspicion fueled by a criticism she once shared with Drew in confidence, suspecting Drew might have passed it along. Drew, seeing her expression change, doesn’t rush to correct her assumption.

“He hates me,” Leigh concludes before Drew can even get a word out.

“He doesn’t—”

“What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t have kept it between us?” she demands, feeling betrayed.

“Because Ryan’s my person. I tell him everything. That’s how being in a marriage works,” he says, but the moment he sees Leigh's face fall, he wishes he could retract those words.

Leigh bristles, her voice rising, “I know how being married works!”

She's livid, because that should go without saying. How dare he imply that she no longer knows, now that she's only half of a whole—her best friend, of all people.

Drew exhales coolly, as if trying to douse the proverbial fire between them. “Why does it seem like we're always either fighting or about to fight?” he wonders aloud.

Leigh’s anger softens into something more reflective, and she sighs, the fight draining out of her. “I don’t mean to...” She trails off, searching for the right words. “It’s like I’m always ready for a battle. I don’t know why. It’s like I’m expecting it, waiting for it, at the end of every day.”

Drew lets the moment breathe, waiting for both of them to deflate completely before tacitly reaching out behind Leigh for a snack. “These are great, by the way,” he says between bites, acting like they hadn’t just been at each other's throats.

Leigh tries to match Drew’s candidness, but inside, she’s reeling. It bothers her, this pattern they’ve fallen into—her temper flaring up, followed by a quick brush-off, as if these outbursts are merely now a part of who she is. She hates that she’s become predictable in her volatility, that her explosions are met with a shrug and a wait-out-the-clock mentality from those around her. She’s tired of it, tired of being seen as a ticking time bomb, her anger and hurt dismissed as just Leigh being Leigh, waiting for the reset button to be hit so the countdown can start all over again.

But it's her birthday, and she's brought these people together on a Tuesday night for fun. She didn't gather everyone just to tell them, once and for all, that they need to stop acting as if her husband just died.

So, she goes with the flow, laughing when it's her cue, even though deep down, she feels more alone in the crowd than ever.

-

With the absence of alcohol, the party winds down by 11 PM. Guests begin trickling out as early as 10, and by the time Leigh is bidding farewell to the last attendee, she's already donned an apron, ready to take on the mountain of dishes left behind.

Which is to say, showing up right now pretty much means you've missed the whole party.

Pulling up in front of Leigh's house, the night already deep into its quiet hours, you’re running on the adrenaline of the day's emergencies. Two cases back-to-back at the clinic, one of them diving straight into surgery, left you no choice but to push everything else to the side. Suzie, who was meant to join you as your plus one, ends up stuck back at work, tending to a recovering St. Bernard, so it's just you and the sleeping puppy on your lap now. For her sacrifice, you promise to take her out to a nice lunch one of these days.

The puppy starts wagging its tail in its sleep, and you look down with a smile at the little dreamer. The decision to give Leigh the puppy wasn't made lightly. You've been turning the idea in your mind for a while now. Initially, you didn't even realize her birthday was coming up, and the invitation to her party caught you off guard, especially considering the somewhat unresolved way things were left between you two weeks ago. The timing of her birthday, your rocky history, it all made you second-guess whether a puppy was a good idea. In search of a voice outside your own head, you turned to a favorite advice column you often read in your spare time. To your surprise, your submission was picked up by one of the columnists, and the response you got wasn't just advice; it was the push you needed. You were lucky to be able to catch their answer, just before you got home to change for Leigh’s birthday party.

Trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach, you give yourself a quick once-over in the rearview mirror and apply a fresh swipe of nude-colored lipstick. With one last look, you carefully step out of the car, the sleeping puppy nestled securely in your arms. The moment you move, it stirs, burrowing deeper into your armpit, seeking refuge from the light of the street lamps.

Everything's too quiet as you walk up to Leigh's house. You anticipated some noise, music or chatter—anything to indicate the party was in full swing. But there are none. Could you have missed the party? Or worse, did Leigh get the date wrong on her invite? Hesitantly, you press the doorbell, instantly regretting it, thinking you might be waking up the whole house.

Just as you're about to bail, the door swings open and it's Jules.

“Y/N!” Jules nearly trips over herself getting to you, eyes wide when she spots the furball you’re holding. 

“Hi Jules,” you mutter sheepishly.

“Is that a…” she squeaks out, already reaching for a cuddle before you've even nodded. Jules is all over the puppy, who seems just as happy to be the center of attention. After a while, she looks up, a bit more composed but still glowing. 

“I didn’t know Leigh invited you. Too bad, you just missed the party. But you should definitely come in and say hi to Leigh,” she says. You want nothing more than to see Leigh again, even if only for a brief moment, just to accomplish what you came here for and perhaps wish her a happy birthday. But with the party over and you potentially being the only guest, it feels like walking into a situation you don’t think you’re prepared enough for.

Then, as the puppy licks Jules' face off, she pauses and looks at you funny. It clicks for her—no collar, no leash, just you and this puppy who appear no more than two months old.

“Oh my gosh, is this for Leigh?” Jules gasps.

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I-If she wants him.”

Jules looks at you, then at the puppy, her smile blinding. “Well, I want him. But if she doesn’t, I’ll be more than happy to be his mommy.”

You laugh at her enthusiasm. Still feeling skittish, you ask, “Do you think it’s an appropriate gift for Leigh?”

“You're a vet. It's kind of on-brand for you,” Jules quips.

You laugh again. “Really?” you ask, kind of hoping for a more solid reassurance.

Jules considers it for a second, before saying, “I can at least assure you it’s not unwanted.”

Good enough, you think. Jules hands you back the puppy and then says, “She’s in the kitchen. Look, she’s not exactly in a good mood, but I think you should go for it anyway.”

That’s two people egging you to go ahead with your surprise. It must be a sign from the universe. You make up your mind for the final time. “Thanks, Jules,” you say.

“Anytime.”

-

You tread lightly, making sure your footsteps don’t give you away as you approach the kitchen. Leigh is at the sink, doing the dishes, clad in a black dress that skims her thighs, her feet bare against the cool kitchen tiles. Her shoulders are slumped, her movements laconic, as if her body is there, but her mind is miles elsewhere. The expanse of skin revealed by her hair tied up in a high ponytail captivates you, holding you back from announcing your presence. You allow yourself a moment to take her in, thinking this might be the only chance you get to really look at her like this. 

You’re about to say “Hi”, when Leigh whirls around, startling you both. Leigh, not expecting anyone to be there, loses her grip on the plate she's holding, and it smashes loudly against the floor. 

“Jesus!” Leigh’s scream summons Jules and her mom into the kitchen. Meanwhile, you are trying to do damage control—holding the puppy with one hand and attempting to gather the ceramic shards with the other as Leigh continues to stare at you in shock.

Amy, wrapped in her robe, looks from the mess on the floor to you and then to Leigh. “What’s going on here?”

Jules is unfazed, simply watches the entire scene from a corner of the room, smirking. 

Your cheeks flush with shame, and you find yourself grateful to be still seated on the floor, your back turned away from Leigh's family.

“I’m so—” you start, but Leigh cuts you off.

“Okay, everyone just...calm down," Leigh says. She kneels down beside you, her hands joining yours in cleaning up the broken pieces.

“I'm heading to bed,” Jules says and then winks at you. “Happy to see you, Y/N!”

Amy wraps her robe more snugly around herself, then with a small, puzzled shake of her head, says, “Well, good night everyone. And happy birthday again, sweetheart,” before she walks down the hall and out of sight. Leigh gets to her feet, a slight nod of appreciation directed your way as she holds open a trash bag for you to deposit the ceramic shards. That’s when the puppy finally catches her attention. 

“And who's this little guy?” she asks, a smile starting to play at the corners of her mouth.

You clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. He’s yours if you want him. Don’t worry about refusing, there’s someone lined up to take him in case you’re not—”

But Leigh’s already gently taking the puppy from your arms, instantly cradling and bouncing him as though he’s a tiny human baby. It’s a sight both funny and utterly endearing, and you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, feeling your heart grow a size or two.

“Who wouldn't want him? He's perfect,” Leigh says, her eyes not leaving him as he nestles comfortably in her arms. Hearing those words, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. She doesn't find it odd; she's already falling for him.

“Happy birthday,” you tell her, and when she looks at you, her smile is so bright it could light up the whole night. Right there is everything you hoped for. All you really wanted was to see her happy.

“Thank you so much,” she murmurs, clutching the puppy tighter to her chest. Then, cocking her head to the side, she inquires, “What's his name?”

The grin on your lips can’t be helped, and you’re hoping she wouldn’t see just how much she’s having an effect on you. “I haven’t named him yet. He was always meant to be yours, Leigh,” you say.

Her smile just gets bigger as she gazes down at the little furball in her arms, and you think this is exactly how things were supposed to go down. It’s one of those rare moments where reality lines up perfectly with expectation. 

“I think I’ll call him Logan.”

-

You and Leigh retire to the living room after she kindly offers to make you decaf. As you settle onto opposite ends of the couch, tucking your feet under you, Logan instinctively takes shelter in Leigh's lap, as if he already knows he belongs there.

“So…Why Logan?” you ask, after making a mental note of how Leigh makes her coffee: one cream, two sugars.

“Well,” Leigh says, her fingers gently stroking Logan’s deep chocolate fur, “he just looks like a little wolverine, doesn’t he? With that color and those defiant little eyes.”

The dots connect in a funny, unexpected sort of way. Leigh and comic books don't seem like the most likely pair. 

“Ah, like the X-Men character. I didn’t know you were a comic book fan,” you say.

She laughs, a sound that’s light and free of any shadows. “Oh, I wasn’t. Not really. It was all Matt. He had this massive collection, and he was pretty obsessed. I guess some of it rubbed off on me after all.” The mention of Matt doesn’t bring clouds into her eyes like you expected. She talks about him like she’s looking at something distant but dear.

“Thought you were bailing on me tonight,” Leigh , almost casual but there’s this undercurrent, like she’s really saying she’s glad you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I got stuck at the clinic longer than expected.” Leaving her waiting, especially today, was never part of the plan. Your work as a vet often means unpredictable hours, but you hadn't expected it to stretch so far into the evening.

“It’s okay, you didn’t miss much.” 

Her casual dismissal makes you wonder, but not wanting to pry too much, you shift slightly, asking, “So, how did it go? Did you enjoy yourself at least?”

Leigh simply smiles and shrugs, an action that speaks volumes without giving much away. “This,” she nods down at Logan, “getting him from you, feels more like my birthday than anything else today.”

The conversation that follows is easy, skipping over the day-to-day stuff—nothing deep, but you're both there—really there—and it's nice. It feels like a fresh start, and you're deeply thankful for the second chance she's offering you. You promise yourself you won't mess it up this time. 

But just as you’re both delving into more personal topics, someone rings the doorbell. Logan perks up, his head tilted, ears alert. Leigh gives you a look, as if saying she's not expecting anyone else to show up this late at night. She puts the puppy down on the floor and when she opens the door, it’s Danny, looking sorry for himself. He’s holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It seems as though he has the whole evening planned out in his head—apologize, crack open the wine, and maybe be invited to Leigh’s bedroom afterwards.

Danny’s eyes find you and his face falls a bit. He wasn’t expecting company, certainly not you. “Leigh, can we talk?” he asks, then looks pointedly at you. “Alone?”

Leigh looks torn for a moment, glancing your way as if she's not ready to let you out of her sight. She insists it'll just be a minute, but you can read the room. This is something they need to sort out without you playing third wheel.

“It’s all good, I'll head out,” you tell her though you're staring Danny down, making sure he knows it’s not because of him that you’re leaving. Leigh either misses the whole glare-off or decides to stay out of it. Logan tries to follow you as you make for the door. It’s hard leaving him behind, but you know he’ll be happy to have found his forever home. You kneel down, giving Logan a soft kiss on the head, promising him you’ll be back soon. And then you turn to Leigh, a question at the tip of your tongue but she already knows what you’re going to ask. 

“You can see Logan anytime,” she says with a faint smile. “I might need your help with him sooner than you think.”

The moment you close the door behind you, Leigh's jaw sets in a firm line, bracing herself to confront Danny. Her main priority is to get Logan settled, so she decides that forgiving Danny might be the quickest way to send him on his way. But Danny’s focus now isn’t on apologies or making it up to her. He’s fixated on Logan, his brows knitting together in confusion and, curiously, a bit of annoyance. 

“Who gave you that?” he asks Leigh as if he’s just referring to an inanimate object lying around the house. He sounds like he's almost accusing her of something, and Leigh's baffled. 

“A friend gave him to me,” she says, nodding towards the door you've just walked out of. Danny's face twists up in an instant, like a storm cloud bursting. “A friend,” he repeats, and the way he says it, it’s clear he’s not just asking. He’s fuming with jealousy, and Leigh can’t wrap her head around why.

A gift is just a gift, right? Why would…

Oh.

Earlier, while she was reviewing submissions for the advice column, someone asked if giving a puppy as a birthday gift to someone they're interested in would be a good idea. She remembers how she happily encouraged them, telling them to go for it.

At this realization, Danny, the puppy, and everything else slide to the back burner. The only thing occupying her mind now is the deep, dark brown hue of your eyes, like rich espresso.

EspressoEyes. That's how the person behind the submission signed off. It's like a lightbulb moment, but softer—like waking up slow.

It's you.

Oh.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

[youledmehere]

THE ONES WHO LIVE EPISODE FOUR: WHAT WE

[WRITTEN BY DANAI GURIRA]

-> Vulture: After some tedious lies and deceptions, in Michonne’s words, they needed a time-out. That’s exactly what they get in one of the best stand-alone episodes in all of The Walking Dead. (…) It’s like watching a two-person play, which makes sense, as the episode’s writer, Danai Gurira (Michonne herself), is an acclaimed and Tony-nominated playwright (…..) “What We” is not a bottle episode. Multiple sets in a single location, two characters with an internal conflict, and the special-effects budget make it a “Suitcase” episode. Editors Rating: 5 stars

Bloody-Disgusting: Andrew Lincoln once again showcases a masterclass of acting as Grimes cycles through his damaged psyche, desperately trying to figure out how to connect with Michonne. Gurira matches Lincoln’s emotional performance, evoking Michonne’s desperation and anger with authenticity. Letting Gurira take over writing duties for this specific episode proved extremely beneficial given the emotional legwork the character trudges through in this particular installment. If there’s anyone who can understand Michonne the best, it’s Danai Gurira.

The Hollywood Reporter: As the writer of the episode, Gurira felt she clearly understood Michonne’s arc, but she wanted to make sure her co-star and fellow executive producer Lincoln had enough meat to sink his teeth into, as well. “You want to give an actor like him everything you can,” she says. “Andy’s such a fantastic actor who throws everything into it. I was keen to give him that workout.” Lincoln added to THR, “It was thrilling to do all of this with friends, but Danai had one heck of a role as well as showrunning the fourth episode as an added responsibility. I thought the work she did on that was an astonishing testament to her skills, especially because apparently she only needs two hours a day to sleep.”

Den of Geek: To call it a bottle episode is dismissive. Certainly, there’s one major setting, and most of the episode contains little in the way of special effects (by the standards of the average Walking Dead Televisual Universe show). However, most bottle episodes aren’t this interesting, or this gripping. “What We” feels like The Walking Dead taking a stab at doing a spinoff of the Richard Linklater Before trilogy, not wallowing in the usual zombie action or soap opera frippery. It’s almost certainly going to be polarizing, but it’s one of the most captivating, emotionally-deep episodes of television from this universe, and it’s all down to the powerhouse that is Danai Gurira.

SpoilerTV: “What We” is a captivating exploration of love’s transformative force. Rick and Michonne shed their pretenses, abandoning deceit to forge a profound reconnection. Andrew Lincoln’s performance brilliantly resurrects Rick from the abyss of a living man who is dead inside, courtesy of Danai’s masterful writing.

Bleeding Cool: But it’s Gurira pulling double duty that deserves all of the attention and tons of praise. Proving that she knows this couple and their dynamic better than anyone, Gurira presented us with what felt like a real couple going through the problems with real reactions- even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. I know that reviews can sometimes go to the extremes-positive or negative- but in the case of “What We”, we have an easy contender for one of the best single episodes of the franchises run.

#acting was amazing. writing was amazing. 10/10 #richonne #the ones who live #rick grimes #michonne #andrew lincoln #danai gurira #*

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of Army of Ghosts/Doomsday (Part 20)  

Excerpt from SFX (Sept 2014 when “The Doctor and Rose say farewell at Bad Wolf Bay in Doomsday” won 1st place in their 250 Greatest Moments in Sci-Fi, Horror, and Fantasy poll to celebrate their 250th issue):

SFX:  Revisionists would have you believe that Who was always a show with emotional impact, but barring a couple of companion departures that didn’t really become true until Russell T Davies.  His most heart-destroying contribution was this scene, in which a holographic projection of the Doctor talks to a tearful Rose on a Norwegian beach (actually Southerndown, South Wales), with the signal cutting out just before the slow-coach can declare, “I love you”.  It’s a moment everyone can identify with because, as Davies put it, “There’s an echo of every loss you’ve ever had.” We’ve all had to bid farewell to someone we care about even if it wasn’t forced upon us by the threat of universal destruction and this moment perfectly encapulates the agony of break-up.

Russell T Davies:  Thank you!  I’m not often speechless, but that’s quite astonishing. All I can remember about that day is everyone rushing like mad to get it finished because the tide was coming in.  Camille Coduri had to stand on wooden planks in case she sank.  But what a cast - David and Billie are simply magnificent.  All directed with joy, energy, and madness by Graeme Harper. I’m genuinely surprised that it means that much to people, after all this time, and thank you to everyone who voted.

David Tennant:  I remember worrying on the day we shot this that as I was actually a projection from inside the TARDIS my hair shouldn’t be blowing in the wind.  That seemed terribly important at the time and although we didn’t find a solution to it, it bothered me for weeks.  Then I saw the finished scene and of course all that matters is the end of the Doctor and Rose’s story.  Russell had weaved some glorious magic for two seasons and it all came together so perfectly in this scene that people still talk to me about it with misty eyes all these years later (and I suspect they always will.)  Murray Gold created some heart-stopping music that accentuates the misery and Billie is just breathtakingly good.  I feel very lucky to be standing on that beach, with my hair flying around, in amongst all these brilliant elements.  Whatever else I do and wherever else I end up, this will be a moment I will forever be proud to look back on.  Thanks for having us at number one.

Link to [ part one ] of the Army of Ghosts/Doomsday Behind-the-scenes posts or click the #whoBtsDoom tag, or the full episode list [ here ]

#david tennant #billie piper #doctor who #rtdedit #doomsday #army of ghosts #all these years later it's still true #such a heartbreaking scene #and it beat some classics in that poll like scenes from alien and star wars and blade runner #as well as newer scenes from avengers and harry potter and the matrix #I'm impressed #stuff i posted #whoBts #whoBtsDoom

[sunflowersteves]

crazy || j.m.

chapter two of ain't no sunshine

pairing || joel miller x f!sunshine!reader

summary || you get injured during a patrol and Joel is too occupied to assist your wound. what happens when someone else has to take over?

author's note || i hope you all enjoy chapter two! since the second to last episode, all i could think about was that smirk joel gave. oop. i promise next chapter will be fluffy. now that it's spring beak, i'm hoping to write much more for this series. can be read as a stand alone but follows a series! 5.8k!

warnings || jealousy, injury, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, murder, blood, possessiveness, brad has his own warning (ifkyk), unrealistic recovery time, delirium, joel is self deprecating and self sabotaging, arguments, SMUT, rough sex, fingering, praise kink, taunting, degradation, dom joel, joel is a little mean, but don't worry because soft joel makes an appearance, soft sex, creampie, [18+ only!!]

series masterlist || part one || masterlist

Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying And I'm crazy for loving you

You weren’t sure when it happened—when the blade twisted into your gut, cutting your flesh and piercing your intestines. You could feel the pain. It was dull and throbbing as wet crimson seeped into your t-shirt. 

You heard a cried-out yell, and turning toward your side, you saw it. You saw the knife that was once in your stomach was now in your hand—lodged into your attacker’s skull. Your body had acted on instinct and perpetrated that familiar gut feeling of violence and revenge. 

You pause, just for a moment. You could feel the adrenaline kick into your system, and a numbing pain flushed out your senses. The blood felt warm and sticky—prompting the sleepiness to feel calming, and it urged you forward into its safe surroundings. 

But then you felt it. Panic. Panic rose in your neck as you looked around for someone. Your hand darted out to try and find them, but your mind was starting to become blank from the fuzzy warmth of pain. 

Joel.

You needed Joel.

But all you knew was that Joel wasn’t by your side. Joel wasn’t here. He wasn’t holding your hand. He wasn’t whispering into your ear about how everything was going to be okay. 

You didn’t know where he was. Then, you collapsed to the snowy ground, white dots fluttering around you. It was almost comforting the way the snow danced around you like soft wet pillows. You opened your mouth. You wanted to say something—you wanted Joel, but nothing could leave your lips.

It all happened too fast—too soon after just leaving the commune for a patrol. You and Joel had spotted someone walking too close to the river, but you and the rest of your party hadn’t seen the tracks behind you. You never noticed four men creeping their way to surround you. 

It almost felt astonishing, really. You, Joel, Tommy, Maria, and Brad were not new to the dangers of survival, especially you and Joel.

The two of you and Ellie have had your fair share of raiders and non-friendly people alike. You and Joel protected Ellie in every way possible, punching your way through cheekbones and splattering scarlet liquid. 

You and Joel weren’t new to picking out tracks and finding the smallest detail of other life. So how could you miss this?

“I’ve got you.”

Your brow crinkles. That doesn’t sound like Joel. You peek open one of your eyes to see a man—what was his name? Oh, yeah. Brad. 

You didn’t want Brad. You wanted Joel. You wanted the scruff of gray hair poking out loudly against the soft brunette ones. You wanted those honeyed brown eyes staring at you in concern and anguish. You wanted Joel to hold your hand as he gently took you into his arms and carried you all the way back. 

Finally, you speak. “Joel. N-Need Jo—”

“I know, but he’s not here.” He placed his hand on your abdomen and applied a great deal of pressure. Your breath hitches, but then your lips fall into a frown. 

“Joel isn’t here?” Tears start to water your lash line, but none of them fall. If you weren’t preoccupied with the open wound on your side, you would have noticed the twitch of a smirk on Brad’s lips. He was purposely attempting to make you feel alone like you've been abandoned by your partner. 

Your eyes start to sting, a fresh tear falling down the side of your face, right below your temple. Something was wrong. Something felt very wrong. You knew Joel would never ever abandon you, so why did Brad say that?

You could feel yourself become dizzy, and the white specs that fluttered around you started to become hazy. You opened your mouth, and your eyes felt so heavy. You could hear someone telling you to stay awake, and it didn’t feel like Brad this time. Maria? Tommy? 

You weren’t sure, but it was no use. You let the sweet lullaby of sleep take over you, and your eyes fluttered closed. 

You whispered Joel's name over and over. 

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

Tommy hadn’t seen Joel act like this in quite some time. Everyone saw their fair share of grumpy glares and pissed off, snarling Joel, but never this—not since the very beginning of the outbreak.

Joel had just been so irate. He was so entirely impassioned with rage—furious and calculating as his fist connected with the raider's face, over and over. But there was something else, too. Fear and hurt swirled and ignited between his brown eyes at the sight of the blood that seeped into your clothing. 

He watched it all happen. He watched the knife lodge into your stomach. He saw your blood that almost became fluorescent in the white snow. He felt his chest seize as his eyes followed your fist that was puncturing the knife into the raider’s skull. 

He saw the way Brad flew to your side, the way that he yelled at you to stay awake. He watched as your eyes fluttered close, and desperation rose in his throat. He tried calling out your name, but he couldn’t get to you.

One of the raiders wrapped his arm around his neck and choked him—no doubt the raider using Joel’s vulnerability of pure agony to his advantage. 

He couldn’t get to you.

He repeated it over and over in his head. He grabbed the raider’s arm and used the weight of his body to fling the guy forward. Joel didn’t waste a single second. He grasped the gun that was flung out of his hands earlier to the raider’s face. 

The clock was ticking. He couldn’t get to you.

“Wait, wait, wait, I can help—”

Joel pulled the trigger, releasing the bullet and popping loudly against the barrel—shoving the nine millimeters of metal into the man’s head. He fell limp to the ground, and the hands that were clenching around Joel’s forearms slowly dropped. 

He looked over in an instant to see that Tommy had knocked out the last of the men that had surrounded all of you. His head snapped back over to you, feet crunching against the snow with each step. 

You weren’t moving—not even your eyes were fluttering—and Joel felt the whole world swallowing him whole. His heart thumped loudly against his chest as his knees hit the ground, no doubt bruising them in the process. 

Brad was on the other side of you, applying pressure to the wound still. “About time, old man.”

Joel ignored him—honestly, he was not even sure he really registered his presence at all. All Joel could do was hold your face, not caring about any of the blood that smeared onto your cheek. “Baby?”

His eyes skated across your face to see a sign—a twitch of your brow, a pull at your lips, anything. He could see the tears that started to gloss over his vision. “Sunshine, please.” 

He paused, desperately searching. “Please.” 

Tommy says Joel’s name softly as if he were going to snap at any moment. He flinched a little when Joel moved. The dark depths of memories from before rushed through his brain. His mind almost became blank—so did Joel’s. Was this going to be the same?

Maria was the one that snapped them out of it, holding her broken wrist to her chest. “We need to leave. We have to get her to the clinic.”

Joel's arm loops itself under your neck, and Tommy pulls your legs up to make it easier to lift you. He scoops you up into his arms, pressing a watery kiss to your forehead. He needed to get you home, and he needed to do it now. 

You murmur just barely under your breath and so quietly that he almost misses it. He wasn’t quite sure if you were even conscious. 

“Joel.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

Worry, why do I let myself worry?

Wondering what in the world did I do?

Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you

The crackling, sultry voice of Patsy Cline flooded into your ears. Your eyes blinked open to see familiar plain white walls. You breathed in to smell fresh pine and some reminiscence of Joel’s cooking. 

Home. You were home. 

You could feel yourself groan as a dull pain spread from your abdomen to your chest. Your head felt a little fuzzy, and you tried to get your bearings, pushing yourself up from what felt like fluffy pillows. 

“Easy. Woah, slow down.” You smiled at the high-pitched voice. Ellie. 

She grabbed your hand, the other guiding the small of your back to sit up. While your wound had mostly healed by this point, there was still going to be a lot of internal discomfort. 

“How long was I out?” You rasped out, your vocal cords rubbing like sandpaper against your throat. You coughed out, and Ellie was quick to bring a glass of water to your lips. 

You gulped down heavily, the relief of the cold liquid soothing your aching throat. You cleared your throat and handed the water back to her. “How long?”

Ellie bit her lip, an uneasy expression lifting onto her face. “Six weeks.”

Your mouth gaped open. “Six weeks? Oh my god—”

She tried to quickly play it off as if she, Joel, Tommy, and Maria weren’t shitting their pants every day at the thought of you never waking up. “But Patsy Cline woke you up! I played all your favorites, especially the ones that you and Joel like to sing all the time, and I knew for sure that she was going to do the trick and—”

“Where’s Joel? Is he okay? Did they hurt him?”

Ellie winced at the mention of his name, but her heart also thumped against her chest. You were literally stabbed in the stomach and almost died multiple times, yet you still thought of someone else. You still thought about the safety and well-being of Joel.

His typical sunshine. Her typical mother. 

She gently squeezed your hand. “Joel is fine. He only had a couple of bruises.” She paused before answering your first question. “He’s, um, at Tommy’s.”

You just blinked, feeling the disappointment crash against your chest. “Oh.” 

Oh. That was okay. He didn’t need to be constantly by your side. Maybe he just needed some rest or comfort from his younger brother. That was okay, right?

Right?

“Is he sleeping?” You could tell by the way she avoided your eyes that something was wrong. What that was, you weren’t exactly sure. He wasn’t injured, so what else could it be? You gulped—suddenly feeling parched again. 

“No…He’s awake. I think so, anyway.” She winced again and knew that she wasn’t helping his case at all. “He hasn’t exactly left Tommy’s to come here.”

When Joel carried you all that way to the clinic in Jackson, he collapsed on the hard ground and cradled you in his arms. You felt cold. You felt unmoving. The entire walk back, he felt helpless—breaths of hopelessness crowded his brain, and all he could think about was that he lost you.

When they tried to take you into the operating room, Joel almost wouldn’t let them. He was clouded by fear and burning with uncleansed rage. 

He lost you, and he did nothing about it. He lost you, and he did nothing about it. It repeated through his head until he could no longer think, hear, see—anything at all—but those words. He couldn’t let them take you—he wouldn’t let them take you from him.

Finally, after realizing that he was wasting the precious time of your beating heart, he let them carry you into a back operating room. He never left the clinic that night, even after the ten-hour surgery. 

After that, though, Joel wasn’t the same. At least, he didn’t feel like it. 

While Tommy knew that and Maria knew that, you and Ellie didn’t. Ellie hadn’t seen Joel in six weeks—just Tommy checking in and bringing her the basics of food and water and helping you. Maria would come too, to bathe you and give you medicine. At first, Ellie thought that Joel had just been hurt or he was forced to go on another patrol.

But no. She realized Joel just hadn’t visited you at all. She was angry at first, stomping over to him and giving him a piece of her mind. As she calmed down, though, she knew Joel cared about you. Deeply. 

He was just…Joel. 

He was unemotional and brash. He was jarring and inanely grumpy all the time. He has violent tendencies and a very distant, dark past. He pushed everyone away from him—only gave affection within a ten-foot pole radius. God, he really, really pushes the people he loves away. 

She knew that she could handle that. She was stubborn and hardheaded like him, so it was a bit easier. She just was worried you wouldn’t be able to handle that.

Ellie and Joel were your worlds. You even told the two of them that when star-gazing one night on the roof of your cabin. You were sweet and doting. You were so calculating and headstrong when you needed to be. But if Joel wasn’t careful about this, she knew he could break your heart.

You go to stand, suddenly feeling a burst of anger rush through you. Ellie could tell by the way your eyebrow twitched and the hard thumps of your socked feet sauntered across the floor that you were very mad. 

“Look, please just—”

You hear a crashing noise outside of the guest bedroom door. Both of your heads whipped over to the loud sound. You would have almost let fear take hold of your chest if it weren’t for Joel bursting through the door not a second later.

His chest heaved up and down, rapidly, and eyes wide at the sight of you standing. You were in some sweatpants and one of his flannel button-ups. Your hair was a little damp. He had no doubt it was from Ellie washing it earlier this morning. 

“Joel.”

His eyes don’t even acknowledge Ellie’s presence. They’re just scanning your body over and over. You seem okay. You seem good. You seem alive.

His body carried itself forward before he was even thinking. His arm stretched out, and the pads of his fingers stroked your cheek. He takes a minute to look at the ways your eyes shone from the light of the window. 

He then retraced his hand so fast, as if your skin was a hot stove—sizzling and burning to the touch. He even took a few paces back. He could feel his eyes watering with each deep, dismal thought pulling him under. 

“You’re awake.”

He said it so softly that you weren’t even sure you heard him right. You just stood there, mouth opening in shock at his reaction. You weren’t really sure what to make of any of this. Shit, you weren’t even awake twenty minutes ago. 

Ellie cleared her throat at the awkwardness. “I’m gonna…go do things.” With that, she left the room, and a small ‘yikes’ escaped her lips. 

There was a long beat of silence before either of you spoke. Joel still looked at you, though. He couldn’t help himself. He still couldn’t believe that you were awake. You were the one to break it, your mind was wandering too aimlessly at all of the unknowns. 

“You didn’t visit me.” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him talk. “Ellie said I was in a coma for six weeks and you didn’t visit me.”

The cracking of your voice and the tears on your waterline broke his heart into two. It was split wide open and ached against his chest. “I-I couldn’t. I saw you layin’ there, darlin’, and I just couldn’t.”

You lightly scoffed. “Couldn’t or wouldn’t? I mean seriously Joel, who the fuck doesn’t visit their partner after they almost die and—”

“What do you want me to say, huh? That I wasn’t fuckin’ there for you? Is that what you want me to say?”

You purse your lips, your hands flying in the air. “No! I–I wanna know why, Joel. I wanna know why you couldn’t even see me.”

His nostrils flare at your tone—crackled and gloomy as it echoed across the room. “Why would you want to see someone like me? Huh? Brad was all over you, and—”

You couldn’t believe him right now. You almost didn’t, but the swirl of green that rested in between his eyes said otherwise. Joel didn’t visit you in your own shared home after being seriously injured because he was jealous? 

“Oh, my god.” You wanted to laugh, and you did. Laughter, the kind that was dark and fluid, bubbled through you. “You can’t be serious.”

You could tell there was something he wasn’t telling you. His hands were tight around the doorframe, and his eyes were glued to the ground. You wanted to pry a bit more, but as Joel always says, “You’re an absolute sunshine until that fire ignites inside of you.” 

“Maybe I should go to him, then.”

Yeah, that got his attention. His eyes flickered up towards yours, mouth opening slightly. “What?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You heard me. Maybe I should go see Brad. I should tell him to take me out to dinner at the bar. He seemed super interested a couple of weeks ago when he—”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Your mouth snapped closed as Joel towered over you. His nostrils flared, chest pulling up and down at a rate that was too calm—too calm while the red between his eyes burned a hole in your own chest. “You think Brad can please you? hmm?”

His fingers grip your jaw so that you’re forced to maintain eye contact. Not that you would give the satisfaction to Joel from the throb of your core anyway. “Yeah, Joel, I think he can.”

His eyes squinted, his face leaning even closer than before. “So if I shoved my hand down, your pussy wouldn’t be drippin’ for me?”

Yeah, okay. He’s got you there. “Huh? Gonna say anything, darlin’?” You defiantly squint your eyes back up into his. His tone was anything but sweet—it was snarling and patronizing as his brows furrowed even further.

Before you could even open your mouth to give a snarky comment back, Joel aggressively shoves the sweatpants you had on down to your ankles. “You’re a fuckin’ brat, you know that?”

He gets on his knees, fingers pushing between your folds. Sure enough, you’re wet. As if on cue, Joel smirks as his finger swirls to grab your sweet nectar. “F-Fuck you, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He groaned into your ear. His thumb presses deep into your clit, sparking your hips to jolt at the pressure. “I don’t think so, darlin’. I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

You gasped, “J-Joel–”

He slipped his index finger, pushing through your tight walls. His cock twitches at the whimper that left your lips. “All I’m doin' is fuckin’ you good with my fingers.” 

His torrid voice breaks you whole, sweet accent slurring his words together. “Can Brad do that? Could he make you dumb from just his fingers?”

He wants you to answer him, but he knows the pleasure is starting to blossom in your lower abdomen. His fingers always made you cum so fast and so hard. They always stretched your aching pussy so wide and scissored the perfect angle into you.

So, he was going to take his sweet time. 

He chuckled. “C’mon, you weren’t this shy earlier. I want you to answer me, sunshine.” Your head tilts back in a gasp, the nickname rolled off of his tongue, and it was so blissful. “Can Brad do this?”

You shake your head, mouth opening, but nothing comes out. You were sensitive—really sensitive. “You can do it, pretty girl.” God, he was enjoying this a bit too much, it was starting to drive you insane. “Answer me.”

The demanding tone struck through your chest, and you almost didn’t give in. All anger practically washed out of you when he inserted another finger—curling them with each thrust. “No! H-He can’t. B-Brad can’t fuck me like you do.”

A devilish smile sprouts from his lips at your affirmation. “That’s all you had to say, sunshine. I fuck you better, hmm?” The squelch of your juices running down his fingers sounded almost ethereal to his ears. “Look at you,” he coos, and you almost believed that it was sweet. “Fuckin’ dumb from just my hand.”

He pauses, almost taunting like. “Do you want my cock?”

Your fingernails dug deep into his shoulders, his name clouding over your mind, and it was all you seemed to think about. “Yes! Please, Joel! I-I want your cock. N-Need it, please.”

“Well, you can’t fuckin’ have it.” His fingers shove even deeper through your walls—finding that spongy spot that makes you mewl. “You don’t deserve it, sunshine.”

You weren’t sure how much more you could handle as the pressure builds, making your head feel a bit fuzzy. “Joel, please. I’m—” 

Oh.

Oh, you see it now. You almost say it. The apology almost rings through your ears. He wanted you to apologize for what you said to him, and it almost worked. Almost. 

You may be happy and considerate the majority of the time, but you were angry. Irritation still bubbled up between your chest, and you weren’t about to let Joel get away with something so easily. 

As if he knew, his eyes flared in anger. “Fuckin’ cum.” 

“I–I won’t—” You say defiantly, trying to make him more frustrated. He knew you better than that, though. He could feel the clench of your walls and the grip on his shoulders became increasingly tight.

“Fuckin’ cum right now, sunshine, or—” Your mouth hangs open as your orgasm breaks you whole. It flutters through you as he works you through it, thighs shaking and Joel’s name chanting from your lucid tongue. 

“Doing so good for me, yeah?” His hand thrusts into you, thumb still stroking your puffy clit. He groans at the gush of your juices dripping down to his wrist, and he leaned down, tongue swirling to just grab a little taste of you. “Y’taste so good, darlin’.”

Your head rolled over to nod. Your eyelids were heavy from the pure pleasure that rushed through your head and down to your toes. His fingers slip out of you easily, and plops them into his mouth, sucking every drop of your orgasm.

He takes his fingers out of his mouth and pulls himself up from the ground. Something sinks in between his stomach, though. He can feel the dread of confrontation unfolding in his eyes. 

The way you look up at him, Joel knows he doesn’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this. Your hand fluffs through the back of his hair, and he thought that your touch would bring him the comfort he needed. But it doesn’t.

He feels like he is going to be sick. He was mean to you. He degraded you. He acted like he didn’t trust you. You could see that he was pulling himself away from you with the way that his eyes snapped shut and his head shook back and forth. 

You tried to reel him back in, wanting him to know that you were just as angry as he was. You were just as turned on by his rage as he was by yours. But it was no use. Joel Miller had made up his mind already.

“I’m going for a walk.”

Your face fell as he bolted from the room. Pain swirled in your stomach, and a sob escaped your lips. You suddenly felt sick to your stomach, and everything just felt so wrong. There was a sunken feeling in your chest—a feeling of a hole burning through your heart. 

He left you.

Again.

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

Tap, tap. Maria opened the door to your bedroom just a little, peeking her head in. “So the rumors are true. You are awake.”

You turned the pages of your favorite book, not even looking up at her just yet. “Awake as anyone can be.”

She smiled up at you before fully pushing the door open and entering the room. She had a glass of water and a handful of pill bottles—probably expired, but they have been probably keeping you alive. 

“Any pain?” 

You shook your head, but that was far from the truth. You just didn’t have any pain from the area you got stabbed. You just had lots of heart and head pain. 

“Good. Since you were out for quite some time, your body was able to mostly heal.” You noticed the small bag in her arm and figured it was most likely some more medical supplies.

You gave her a faint smile and turned another page—eyes skimming the small words. “Thank god. You know I can’t stay still for long.”

She chuckled, nodding in agreement. She gave you the pills you needed. You swallowed them down, gulping the fresh water. After handing the water back to her, you looked down at your book again.

She looked over at you, and a smile widened on her lips. “He read that to you every night, you know.”

You blinked, confused. “What?” You dog-eared the book and placed it on the bed next to you. You had somewhat of an idea, but the shock was still evident. “Who?”

Maria smiled and set down a couple of more pills on your bedside table. “It’s some pain medication if you need it.” After you nodded in acknowledgment, she sat down next to you on the bed. “Joel.”

Your eyes widened slightly. She continued, “After Ellie would go to sleep, he would sneak into the house. I told him he didn’t have to do that, but well, you know him.” She knocked her elbow with yours. “He just sat there all night reading that book to you, over and over. He’d come back to our place at around seven in the morning before Ellie woke up.”

She paused, looking right at you. “I know how he is. I know you know more than any of us, but that day? I hadn’t ever seen him like that. He was broken. He muttered under his breath the whole way back that you were gone, and it was his fault. I kept trying to tell him that you still had a steady heartbeat, but he was just—just fully convinced.”

She gave you a watery smile, noticing the tears streaming down your cheeks. You wiped them with the back of your palm and sniffled from a runny nose. 

“Oh, Joel.” You sighed, feeling slightly guilty, but you knew he would hate that. You didn’t know. He specifically chose not to tell you or Ellie anything because that was what he does. He pushes you away because he thinks he doesn’t deserve you or this life you have. Your silly, precious Joel. 

“I’ll leave you to it. Get better, okay? I need my movie-watching friend back.” She pats you lightly on the back before standing up from the bed.

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Oh, I’m sure it was hell trying to watch Little Women with Tommy.”

She huffed, a hand on the doorknob. “You have no idea.” And with that, she left the room. You stayed there on the bed and tried to dry your tears. 

You felt an ache burst through you. You knew Joel wasn’t telling you everything. You knew it.

There was a part of you that still felt guilty, even though you know you shouldn’t. You just didn’t know what those six weeks felt like as he waited for you. He pleaded every night for you to wake up. Every ten hours after finishing the book, he would ask you all the same. 

You finally had enough of this. It was all his decision to wallow in his own darkness and sorrows—and you were going to put an end to it.

You took the duvet off of your lap and sauntered across the room. Your hand twisted the doorknob, and just as you whipped the door open, you were met with a hard chest. Joel’s hand was fisted, hanging in the middle of the air.

Your eyes widened as you looked up into his deep eyes. “Joel.” You whispered. Tears already started to water against your lash line from the sight of his creased brow and worried gleam in his eyes. 

“Darlin’.” He grunted. His hands clasp gently against your cheeks, and it pulls you forward. His eyes flickered across your face, and his thumb moved to wipe your tears. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that, okay? I-I just didn’t want to tell you the truth, and I just–I used Brad as an excuse—”

“Joel.” You bit your lip, trying to shake your head, but his hands stopped you. His other thumb moved back and forth in adoration on your cheek. 

“I just–I know I failed you. I know I failed Ellie too. I made you a promise that I would never do that again, and I broke it.” His voice cracked, and he let out a huff of air.

“Joel, you didn’t.” Your hand moved up to his chest, stroking back and forth, and he closed his eyes. “You didn’t fail anyone.”

He shook his head. “I did. I did fail you. When I saw the b-blood that—” He paused at the gut-wrenching memory, “I couldn’t get to you. I-I couldn’t help you, darlin’.”

Your breath hitched. Joel was worried about trying to help you. Not saved—like you were some damsel in distress. Not saved, as in pushing you aside and using his ego like others would. Not rescue you. Not recovering you. He wanted to help you. 

“Oh, Joel.” Your hand goes to cup his cheek, “Look at me. Joel—” His eyes snapped open, and he stared at your breath-takingingly beautiful, teary face. “You did help me.”

He opened his mouth to disagree, but you beat him to it. “You carried me all that way, and no one else could do that. Maria had a broken wrist, Tommy has noodle arms,” Joel lets out a snort, “And we can’t rely on a complete stranger to carry me back home. You did. You helped me more than anyone else in this damn world.”

A sob escaped his lips at your sweet affirmation. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, and he surged your cheeks forward to his, lips desperately pressing against your own.

They swallow you—burning a fire inside of you and your hands gripping his chest so tight that you were afraid he would vanish if you hadn’t. He licks into you, moaning.

“Sunshine.” He said, a smile turning up on his lips. He pressed his own back onto yours, so chaste and tender that it makes your knees buckle. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

His lips moved to your neck, and he whispered that against your skin.“I’m sorry. I love you.” His hands flittered down to your hips and gradually started to move you toward the bed. 

You whispered right back at him. “I’m sorry. I love you.” You could feel his lips curl into a smile on your skin, lips still pressing against the base of your neck and your collarbone. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

He gently laid you down on top of the bouncy mattress, hovering over you. He started to take off his jeans, and you do the same with your sweatpants. He gently unbuttoned his shirt, but his eyes never left yours. In fact, they were boring into you. They were glittering under the dimmed light. They were bursting full of love and worship for everything and everything you. 

He leans over on top of you, and one of his hands gently massages your breast. You wantonly sighed, pressing kisses onto his scruffy gray beard. A hand gently rests on your hip, sparking a hot sensation on your skin. His thumb swipes back and forth, and it takes everything in you not to let tears roll down your face once more. 

“I love you, sunshine.” He said it with such adoration and love that your heart seizes in your chest. His cock slipped into you easily, the arousal from earlier and the dripping now mixed and connected. 

“Joel, I love you—I love you.” He moaned at the clench of your walls. His lips lowered to press soft kisses to your chest. He thrust deep, the head of his cock piercing through you. The sweet contrast of Joel was making you feel dizzy.

He pulled back just a little. He wanted to look at you—he wanted to see you. Your mouth hangs wide open for him, whines and whimpers escaping your throat. “J-Joel! Feels so good, Joel.”

He smiled, “Yeah, Darlin’? Love my cock, don’t you?”

You gasped, preening into him. “Yes! Joel—” He thrusted into hard and his deep, hips brushed up against yours. “F-Fuck, baby—”

“Y’Pussy feels so fuckin’ tight, sunshine.” His lips pressed so gently against your skin, tasting the salt that seeped through. He groaned, hips slapping up and puncturing through you. 

“Joel, I love—love you.” You whined. His hand moved to swirl circles on your clit. You could feel the pressure build and burst through you. 

“Gonna cum, sunshine? Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock.” 

You mewled, and he pushed into you a couple of times before you scream his name. “Joel! Joel, I—I love you, I love you.”

“Fuck, my sweet sunshine—” He grunts, coil snapping on his own and clashing against his abdomen. His cock twitched inside your walls, and he spilled inside of you. 

He pumps you full, while muttering under his breath. “I love you, sunshine. I—fuck—oh—I love you.” You whined his name over and again while he did the same. 

You clutched onto one another, desperate to be as close as possible. His lips pressed against your cheeks, leaving soft and gentle kisses in his path. He moaned as he felt your walls clench once more around him. 

You opened your eyes, flickering over his wrinkled lines and strong nose. You wanted to hold him forever, and he no doubt felt the same. 

After six weeks of pure agony, Joel finally felt whole again. He had you by his side, and he felt so loved by your presence. 

You were glad to be finally awake. The toll of being under for so long definitely affected you and your body. But, you couldn’t be happier than to share a little moment with Joel. Your Joel. 

Finally, after quite a while of enjoying each other's company—pressing soft kisses and caressing each other's skin—you break the silence. “We should probably go tell Ellie we’re okay.”

He nods in agreement, but he makes no sudden movements. “Jus’ five more minutes, darlin’?”

You gave him a big smile. “Yeah. Five more minutes, handsome.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fanfiction #smut