#tlou Game vs Serie

[itslikeicons]

Game VS TV Show

#tlou #the last of us #hbo #hbo the last of us #joel miller #tlou joel #perdro pascal #pedro pascal as joel miller #vs #gaming #game joel #hbo joel #game vs serie

[millersdjarin]

Some Invisible String

Chapter V: One Single Thread of Gold

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (afab)

Rating: E (18+ only!)

Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn’t know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he’s too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers.

Chapter length: 4.2k

Warnings/Tags: injury recovery, light angst, SMUT, crying during sex (but in a happy way), happy ending, unprotected p in v

Chapter Four (Previous) | Series Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

notes: final chapter! thank u for reading, i hope you enjoy ❤️

ps since tlou has new fans from the show (YAY!), just a heads up that this is post TLOU part 1 and following the details of game canon vs tv show canon, so spores for example. so, spoilers ahead for the story ❤️

“See? Told you she wouldn’t believe us.” 

“I do,” I find myself saying, blinking at Ellie and Joel in their kitchen like each of them has just grown a second head. “I do believe you. I just…holy shit. You can breathe in spores, and everything?” 

“Yup.” 

I stare at Ellie with wide-eyes. Her sleeve is rolled up, revealing her bite. I never thought I’d see a healed bite from an infected. “Jesus,” I breathe out. I reach down for her arm, then ask, “Can I?” 

Ellie nods and lifts it up to meet me, letting her forearm sit in my hand. I run my finger over the scar, feeling its raised bumps and wrinkles, completely dumfounded by the fact that this is an actual infected bite but it’s not red and angry, threatening to turn its victim at any minute; it’s been there for a year and a half. It’s healed, just as if it was from a dog, or something. Except it is absolutely, without question, the kind of bite that should’ve rendered her a clicker by now. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I let her arm go. “I assume you don’t tell anyone about this?” 

Rolling her sleeve back down, Ellie shakes her head. “No. We agreed it’s safer that way. Only a few people know.” 

Something warm spreads in my chest. “I’m honoured to be one of them,” I give her a smile, hoping it comes across as genuine as I mean it to. “My lips are sealed. It’s pretty amazing, though, right? Did you get bitten when you were with Joel?” 

“I…no. No, it was before that. We actually met because we…” 

Gently, Joel continues for her, “We were going to the Fireflies. They thought she was the key to finding a cure, but…it didn’t work out.” 

The vaguest hint of a frown works its way onto my face. I study Joel where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, delicious arms folded over his chest, his jaw working away. I’ve never been able to describe what it is about him that I pick up on when he’s lying. All I know is that I know a lie from Joel when I hear one. 

He looks at me like he knows that. Like he’s saying Not now. 

“Damn,” I say to Ellie, then offer her a smile again, “you got a badass scar, though. Not that you can show anyone it, but still.” 

She laughs a little. “I guess so.” 

“So you came all the way from Boston to Wyoming together? How the hell did you manage that?” 

“A whole lotta luck,” Joel says with a wry smile. 

“And teamwork,” Ellie adds. 

I laugh. “I’m impressed.” 

“You survived on your own, too,” Ellie says. “That’s also pretty badass.” 

“It’s very badass,” I agree, but resist a shudder at the bad memories from the last decade that instantly pour into my mind. 

“We should get you sitting down,” Joel says, gesturing to my leg. It is starting to throb; we’ve been standing here talking about all this for a while. 

I nod and start hobbling to the living room. Joel puts his arm around me to help, and to be honest I probably don’t need it, but I will take any opportunity I can get to be close to him. Our kiss from this morning is still fresh on my skin like it only just ended. I can feel his lips, his breath, his hands; a perfect ghost of him all over me. 

“Ellie, why don’t you go get the horses ready, then we’ll head out for a ride? I just gotta talk to Tyler over here before we go.”

My heart leaps in my chest. 

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Who the fuck is Tyler?” 

Joel gives me a smirk. 

“That’s what he used to call me,” I explain with a nostalgic smile, remembering the first time he called me it. “I’m from Tyler in Texas. When we first met, all we knew about each other was we were both from Texas.” 

“Aw, that’s cute,” Ellie laughs. She points her thumb towards the back door and says, “I’ll go get ready to ride. Do you wanna come with us?” 

“I should probably get some rest,” I reply. “But thanks.” 

Then, when Ellie is gone and out of earshot, I turn to Joel where he stands by the living room window. He’s got one thumb hooked over his belt, the light from the window shining around him, making him into a lovely silhouette. I’d ask him to come closer, to kiss me, to even just hold my hand, but I have a question first. 

“So,” I say, leaning back against the sofa, “why’d you lie back there? About the cure?” 

Heavily, he sighs. Steps over to me, sits down, rubs his hands over his face. 

Then, he tells me. 

“And…she doesn’t know,” I clarify after the whole story is out there in the open. Like a mist in the room, lingering, waiting for my reaction. 

“She doesn’t know.” 

I exhale. His hand is sitting on his knee now, his other running over his beard with his elbow propped on the arm of the couch. 

I’m not surprised he did that for Ellie. Rushing through an entire army of Fireflies to save her life. I’m not surprised in the slightest, and I also know why he kept it a secret. 

What I am, though, is so fucking in love with him that it hurts my chest; and this only makes it stronger. I reach out and take the hand on his leg, threading our fingers together. 

“Do you feel that you did the right thing?” I ask, looking at his side profile.

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind,” he answers without hesitation, then turns to look at me. “I’d do it a thousand times for her.” 

A smile tugs at my lips as my chest blooms with affection. I squeeze his hand, trying to come up with words that don’t just sound cheesy, that don’t sound like I’m making fun of him. “Who knew you were so soft?” I ask. Which, okay, is partially teasing. But not entirely.

He chuckles. The smile on his face is so precious to me, and I think I’ve seen it more in the past week I’ve been here than I ever did in our five years together back then. He just looks so light. Still weighed down by the weight of this world, of course, and not without his own grief or fears; but, God, he smiles like he means it. Like he’s not afraid to anymore. Like the fear of the smile ruining everything has lifted from him. 

Naturally, I can’t get enough of it. 

“I think you did,” he answers my question, sincere. 

“Hm, I think the Joel I fell for was a little rougher around the edges,” I smirk, fully teasing now as he turns his body towards me and leans over me, brushing his hand over my cheek. 

His eyes locked onto mine, he rasps, “I can still be rough around the edges. If you want me to be.” 

With my hand on the back of his neck, I lean in and kiss him. Because he’s so fucking handsome, he’s here, he’s Joel. 

There are still thoughts in my head that keep trying to push through; thoughts of doubt, of worry, of fear. I don’t know where this is going, where I’m going, or what I should assume about either of those things. 

But with his lips moving against mine, I force the thoughts away, because I’ve waited so long for this feeling and I’m not about to ruin it as soon as it’s started. 

“I gotta go,” he says against my lips, rueful. He lifts up his thumb and smoothes it over my bottom lip. “We’ll pick this up later?” He asks, hopefully flicking his eyes between both of mine. 

I nod, biting my lip. “Please.” 

-

When Joel gets back, he makes us dinner. 

The three of us sit around the dining table in the living room, a candle in the middle of the table, flickering along with the fireplace across the room. It’s been two decades since I had a home-cooked meal like this; sitting at a table, inside a house, safe and warm. With people I know and trust. 

Ellie and I talk about movies and music, teasing Joel for his taste in both. We talk until it’s late and Ellie is yawning while Joel tells her that maybe she should get some sleep. She protests, claiming she’s ‘not even tired’, to which Joel responds, “I’ve heard that before.”

But after a while, she gives in to the tiredness so obviously weighing at her, and stands up from the table. “Alright. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Thanks for dinner, Joel.” 

“Night, Ellie,” Joel says, watching her as she walks towards the living room. “Sleep well.”

“Night,” I say with a smile. Ellie gives us both a wave, lifting her arm up high without turning back, and then she’s up the stairs and gone. 

I look at Joel, and warmth settles in my chest. The light in here is warm, mostly coming from the dim lights in the living room now, along with the candlelight flickering over Joel’s face. It casts highlights and shadows and I want to reach out and touch them with my fingers, with my mouth. 

Reaching across to him, I run my fingertips over his knuckles, and he smiles, twisting his hand so he can take hold of mine and squeeze.

“You want some wine?” He asks into the comfortable quiet.

“Love some,” I reply. “Can’t remember the last time I had any. Decent stuff, at least.” 

He pours a deep, red wine into two glasses, and when he comes back to the table, he doesn’t sit back on his seat. Instead, he pulls away a chair and turns to me, perching on the edge of the table, his legs at the same level as my shoulders. Then he holds up his glass for me to tap mine against. 

I do. “What are we toasting to?” I ask, looking up at him from under my eyelashes, drinking in more than just the wine; his heat, his hard thighs so close to my face, the way he’s looking down at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like we’re not living in the end of the world. Like we’re just on a regular date at his house, drinking wine after sunset. 

“Think we got a lot to toast to,” he says after taking a sip. With his spare hand, he reaches out, and brushes some pieces of hair back from my face. “This, right here, for one.” 

Smiling, I lean into his touch, closing my eyes. My lips press into his palm before he lays it on my cheek. “Agreed.” 

His lips spread into a small, contented smile. I put my spare hand on his waist, then slide it around so it’s pressed against his back. We just drink our wine like that, sitting with a hand on each other, existing in one of the only quiet moments we’ve ever had together. It’s just us, right now. It could be that nothing else exists. Just us. Just him, leaning against the table, gazing down at me like I’m something precious he can’t take his eyes off of.

When I’ve finished the last of my wine, I put my glass down on the table, and make use of my newly freed hand to rub it up his thigh. He sighs, swallowing the last of his. 

“You wanna go to bed?” I ask, letting my voice run soft and sultry. 

“I’d love to,” he says, “just one thing first.” 

“Hm?” I hum, pressing my forehead into his thigh, right against the denim of his jeans. His hand slides back into my hair, gently playing with it. I can feel heat rising in my belly, a need to be closer to him just thrumming through my veins. 

“Don’t tell Ellie, but I’ve been working on a little somethin’ for her. The shed out back, Tommy and I have made it into her own space just for her. I thought she’d appreciate having a place to call her own.” 

I look up at him and smile. “She’ll love that.” 

Joel nods. He stares at me for a minute, pondering. “And…since we’re talkin’ about living arrangements…” 

Dread shoots through my stomach, piercing through any of that rising arousal that his touch had ignited. 

He doesn’t want me to stay. 

That has to be it, right? He’s been thinking about it, too, ever since I got here. I don’t blame him; how can he ever trust me again? How can we ever—

“I was wonderin’ if you wanted to move in.” 

Oh.

Well, that brought my racing thoughts to a shuddering halt. 

He seems to take my silence as apprehension, because suddenly he’s nervous, trying to explain himself, “Only if you want. I know it’s…I know a lot has changed, especially today, and I really was going to offer for you to live here before we…you know.” 

I swallow down the lump of emotion that has made itself at home in my throat. I’m just staring up at him, wide-eyed, probably looking like I’m on the edge of tears. 

He wants me to stay. 

Fucking fuck, he doesn’t just want me to stay in town; he wants me to stay with him. 

“You…” I stammer. “You want me to…” 

He holds up a hand like he’s trying to calm a situation, one that actually doesn’t need calming, but the look on my face probably suggests otherwise— “Now I know it’s sudden, and if you want to ask Maria for your own place, she’s already suggested some…or…unless you don’t want to stay here at all?” Doubt creeps into his features, a jolt of anxiety I so rarely see.

“No!” I manage to squeak out, tightening my grip on his jeans. It doesn’t seem to clear anything up for him; he just frowns. “I mean, no, I…I don’t want to leave,” I say, finding that I mean it. Why wouldn’t I mean it? Why the fuck would I ever want to leave this place? And now that I have Joel…

Fuck, I have Joel. 

There are no words. None that are good enough, big enough, to express the overwhelming feelings that are bubbling up inside me. 

Instead of talking, I stand up, lean into him, and kiss him. 

He makes a pleasantly surprised noise, his hand staying on the back of my head as he lets my lips press to his, my hand going to mirror his. I open my mouth, feel him sigh when he opens his too, moving our lips together slowly but passionately. Desperately. Because it’s the only way I can think to tell him how I really feel. 

Maybe in another life, I’d have said it’s too soon. That we’re rushing into things. 

But we live in a world where one of us could die any day. And after everything, after all this time, I don’t want to waste any more time. 

If he’ll have me—I’ll have him. 

“So is that a yes?” He pulls away for a second and gives a nervous little chuckle. His thumb strokes at my cheekbone, his eyes looking down into mine, glowing in the candlelight. 

I nod. “Yes, it’s a yes,” I say. The heat is back in my belly again, feeling his knee pressed up between my legs, his face so close to mine and breath blowing against my mouth. “Yes, it’s a fucking yes, Joel. God, I—” I kiss him again, because I can’t not. “I can’t believe this.” 

He laughs into my mouth and kisses me quiet, bringing up his other hand to cradle the other side of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair again like they did this morning. I sigh, unable to resist, and melt at his touch. At his mouth. At him. 

“Joel,” I say, breathless, “Joel, will you please take me to bed?” 

He laughs again, a breathy chuckle that brushes into my mouth before trailing down my neck along with his lips, pressing closed-mouthed kisses all along my jaw. “Can you make it up the stairs?” 

“For this, yes.” 

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, showing his teeth and the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. I dive in and kiss at each line, each mark of his life, everything he’s been through, all his laughs and tears and shouts and smiles—

“Joel,” I find myself whimpering against the corner of his mouth. 

His hands, steady on my waist, squeeze me. “You alright?” 

Tears are stinging in my eyes and nose. I try to swallow them back, press my nose into his neck. “Take me to bed,” I beg again, this time in just a breathy whisper, “Please.” 

His hands are precious and gentle on the back of my head again, cradling me in his warm palms, his fingertips threaded into my hair. I’m sitting on the end of his bed and he’s bending down to kiss me, my head craning up to meet him as best I can. I’d strain to reach him forever if that’s what it took. If the only reprieve from the stretch was his hand on the back of my neck. It would be enough. 

He pulls away from my lips for a second and breathes against me. “Goddamn,” he curses. 

I stroke his forearms, running my fingers through the hairs there. “Yeah,” I breathe, “yeah.” 

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” He asks. 

I didn’t used to. I thought he’d never want this. Want me. 

But now…

I nod, and pull him down further, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. “I think I do.” 

Carefully he backs me up along the bed, crawling on top of me as I shuffle up towards the pillows. I try to kiss him as we move but it ends up too clumsy and my leg kind of hurts as I’m crawling backwards, and he chuckles at my efforts, settling above me once I’m lying down. 

The backs of his fingers trace down my face. He gazes down at me, his eyes glittering in the warm, dim light of his bedroom. I want to dive in, devour him, let him devour me, feel him as close as possible because I’ve wanted it for so fucking long—

But he’s so soft above me, so comforting and familiar and new all at once, and I could just as easily just stare at him like this forever, the look in his eyes, gazing like I’m something he wants. Something he needs. 

“Do I have something on my face?” I tease, just a little shakily, not sure what else to say. “You’re staring.” 

He shakes his head once. “Sorry. Can’t help it.” 

I smile up at him, press my hand to his cheek. “Me, neither.” My other hand moves around to the back of his neck, and I dip it down below the collar of his shirt, feeling at the heat of his back, pushing it down as far as it’ll go. He stifles a moan, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Joel,” I whisper against him, pressing our foreheads together, “how many times do I have to ask you to fuck me?” 

His breath hitches, catching in his throat. “You technically haven’t asked me that at all yet, darlin’,” he replies after a beat. 

“Well, then, I’m asking you now,” I pull away to meet his eyes again. Lightly, I curl the hand that’s under his shirt, running my fingertips over the small of his back, digging them in just a little. “Please, Joel. Take me. I’m yours. I’m—”

He dives in before I can say anything else, opening his mouth against mine and kissing me with a new, fevered urgency. He holds himself up above me with his palms on either side of my head, and at the feeling of his tongue brushing against mine, my hips instinctively buck up to try and find some friction. 

Without moving his mouth from mine, he shifts his legs, gently using his knee to push mine apart and then settling it there between them. Slowly, as he kisses me so quickly and passionately that I only just register what he’s doing, he slides his knee up and presses it against my centre. 

It feels fucking incredible. I’m throbbing already, pulsing for him, desperate for more friction. Another instinct, to grind down against his thigh, pushing myself further against him as he kisses me like his life depends on it. 

One of his hands moves a little so his fingertips are brushing over my temple, pushing bits of hair away from my face. I let the hand on his cheek slide back into his hair, taking a handful of it and pulling, revelling in the choked moan he lets out against my mouth. The vibration of his voice is intoxicating, and I wonder, not for the first time, how it’d feel against the place that his knee is currently pushed against. 

My hand on his back scrapes again, digging my nails in probably a little too hard, but he doesn’t complain; his lips break away from mine with a loud smack, and I’m about to protest, about to pull him back in when they start to messily trail down my jaw in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. I gasp, my mouth falling open. His mouth is so warm, so wet, I can hear him breathing through it with his nose right up at my ear, can feel the heat of his thigh where it’s pressed against me—

“Joel,” I gasp out as his mouth settles at the pulse point on my neck. He starts to suck, and I can feel just enough of his teeth that I know it’s going to make a mark, the suction pulling sparks of pleasure from my neck all down my body. 

He hums in approval as I put my other hand on his waist, above his shirt this time, but starting to ruck it up, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. 

“Joel, please…” 

“Mm?” He trails his lips, open and hot, back up to the underside of my jaw, and waits there. “What do you need, darlin’?” 

“I need…” 

Pulling himself away from me, he takes a careful hold of my hands, withdrawing them from both under and over his shirt. He takes them, entwines our fingers, then presses them down against the pillow on either side of my head. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” he promises in a low, husky voice that I have literally dreamed of hearing say that for God knows how long—“just tell me what you need, darlin’, and I’ll do it.” 

My mouth suddenly dry, I swallow, gasping for air even without his lips on me. He licks his own, glancing down at my mouth, hungry. “I already told you,” I say, breathless and squeezing his hands, “I need you to fuck me.” 

One side of his lovely lips quirk up into a smile. He leans down, kisses me, this time soft and close-mouthed. Then he presses our foreheads together again, and his breath is hot and fast against my face. I want to lean up into him, kiss him again, feel the burn of his beard against my skin, let it mark me up. But before I can, he whispers, “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for too damn long.” 

Then his hands are leaving mine, and he leans back, pulling far enough away that I can feel the loss of his body heat. He sits against my thigh, one of his still pressed just not quite hard enough to my middle, and I’m just about to pull him back down again when he takes his hands and starts to unbutton my shirt. 

Oh, fuck. 

The way he does it so carefully, calloused fingers working expertly on each one, just slow enough that it drives me insane. He watches his fingers, hunger growing in his eyes, licking his lips with every inch of my skin that he exposes. 

Then, when all of the buttons are undone, he first meets my eyes for a quick moment with a grin, then takes hold of each side of my open shirt and flings them aside, revealing my bare stomach and bra. 

“Oh, darlin’,” he exhales, gazing at that part of me like it’s the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. All I can do is lie there, watching him watch me, feeling as his hands press against my navel, slowly sliding up my ribs, to the curve of my breasts, back down again. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Sudden, unexpected emotion bubbles up in my throat. 

I never thought any of this would happen. Hell, I thought I was going to die not two weeks ago. 

When I left Joel, I thought I’d never see him again. And I thought that, even if I did, he’d not want anything to do with me.

And yet here we are, and he’s not just here, he’s mine, touching me with such care and desire and lust and I, God, I can’t put into words how it feels to have him like this—

“Hey,” his soft voice breaks me from my tumbling thoughts. His eyes leave my torso, and I swear to God I feel the lack of their heat. He meets my gaze instead, a soft frown of concern creasing his forehead. “You alright?” 

Frantic, I nod. I need him to know that I’ve never been better. I have literally never, in my life, felt like this. I reach up for him, taking hold of his face and bringing it down to mine, not quite pressing our foreheads together. “Joel,” I whisper. He lifts one of his hands from my stomach, brushes the backs of his fingers down my face. “I’ve literally never been happier.” 

He smiles. A beautiful little tilt of his lips that has me feeling just as much heat between my thighs as I do with his touch—

Speaking of, I grind down on him again, and my eyes flutter closed at the sensation. I need more. I need more, but he’s still hovering over me, concerned, and I realise that he’s not just brushing his fingers over my cheeks to touch me, he’s brushing away tears. 

Tears. 

I’m fucking crying. We’re supposed to be having sex, and I’m fucking crying. 

Humiliated, I feel my cheeks flush bright red and immediately rush to wipe away the tears. “Sorry,” I croak out, finding more tears in my throat ready to fall, “God, I’m—I’m sorry, I’m fine, I promise…”

He keeps stroking my face. For a moment he watches me, and I can see in his eyes that he’s not judging me. He still looks a little bit worried, but as he looks between each of my eyes, he asks, soft, “Are you sure?”

And I nod in an instant. “I really am,” God, I can’t believe I’m crying. I’m still crying. “It’s just…” The weight of the last decade—fuck, the last two decades, who are we kidding—feels like it’s weighing me down and lifting all at once, suddenly washing over me in a wave that I can’t find my way up from and I don’t know if I want to.

Joel nods like he understands. Leaning down, he kisses away the newest tears on my cheeks. “It’s a lot,” he says, gentle. “I know. After everything.” The hand that isn’t on my cheek moves from my ribcage, instead taking a hold of my hand again, and putting it on the pillow by my head like before. “I’m here, darlin’. Alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

Feeling just a little pathetic, I sniff. “I’m alright,” I promise him. My hand finds purchase on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. 

He gazes down at me for another long moment, his free hand stroking at my hair. I close my eyes into the touch, focus on him, his breathing, his body over mine, protecting me. Keeping me there, because it’s the only place I want to be. 

“I just love you,” I find myself whispering with my eyes still closed. At the confession, a small shot of dread shoots through my stomach in an instant, and at first, I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. But as the silence stretches on, I have to. 

I open one eye first. A part of me expected him to get up and leave. 

But I don’t know why. Because instead, he’s just staring down at me, a new softness on his features that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. His lips quirk into a small smile. His eyes are glistening, disbelieving. “I love you,” he breathes out. I feel the words on my skin, sinking into my bones. 

Relieved, I close my eyes again. Then I feel him kiss me, soft. 

“I love you,” he says again. “I always have. I always will.” 

Feeling a fresh wave of tears threaten to fall, I nod and press my nose into his cheek, grasping on to the back of his head like it’s a lifeline. It kind of is. “Can you please be inside me before I embarrass myself by crying again?” I whisper into his ear, not totally unaware of the fact that I sound even more like I’m crying now. Which, I’m not. I don’t want to cry anymore. I’ve cried enough. 

His chuckle is breathy and warm against the shell of my ear. “‘Course I can,” he gently nips at my earlobe, then in one smooth movement, he pushes his knee right up against my still very clothed pussy and I let out a cry. Pleasure shoots through me, and the tears subside to make way for a gasp that pulls out of my lips.

It all happens very quickly, and yet very slowly, after that.

One minute, we’re both still clothed and kissing slowly and softly. The next, I’m tugging off his shirt, he’s unhooking my bra, putting his head between my breasts and kissing the centre of my ribcage with an open mouth. I undo his belt clumsily, push his jeans down to his ankles. He kicks them off and climbs back on top of me as soon as he can, helping me out of my own jeans. It takes a bit of working around my bandage, a distant pain still throbbing away over it. 

He looks up at me and raises his eyebrows. “You tell me if this starts hurting,” he says, not a suggestion. 

I nod. “I will.” 

He wastes no time getting back to my lips, one of his hands travelling all-too slowly down my body towards my centre. I ruck my hips up into his touch, and soon his fingers are pressing against my bare skin, right above my clit where I need him. 

“Joel,” I say, “touch me. Please.” 

He obliges without a word, sliding the tips of his two fingers down through my folds and towards my entrance, gathering wetness. I hear the slick of it, feel it, and he takes it up to my clit before pressing there in earnest. 

“You tell me if it don’t feel good,” he murmurs against my lips. “Need this to be good for you.” 

Desperate, I nod, clutching his head with both of my hands as I press my hips up into his delicious touch, the circles he’s making around my clit.

His fingers are inside me, then, thumb pressing against the precious bundle of nerves that he seems intent on pushing on. 

“God, Joel, that’s just—that’s just right,” I gasp. 

He smiles against my mouth and keeps going, slowly pumping two fingers in and out of me, stretching them apart a few times to get me ready. The sheer anticipation of having his cock inside me is enough to have me pulsing, getting wetter and wetter by the minute.

He readies his cock, holding it against my entrance. Looking into my eyes, he smiles, and presses the tenderest of kisses to my lips. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you…” the words fade off into a breathless whisper as he slides inside me, past my folds and right to my core, so hot and warm and wide and, God, fuck, it was so worth the wait—

I cling to him, scratch my nails down his bare back. As he starts to thrust, slow but not hesitant, he attaches his mouth to my shoulder and sucks. With one hand stroking my hair, he brings the other back to my clit, working it in time with his thrusts. 

“Jesus…God, you feel so good…” he grunts against my neck. 

“Joel,” I plead, “please…harder, faster…I need you…” 

My words pull the loveliest of moans from his throat and it’s like he melts beneath them, beneath my breath and my hands, pushing himself further inside me so the head of his cock is reaching as high as it can go, gently pushing against my cervix. Before he starts going any faster, he pauses, panting in my ear, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Joel, I can take it…” 

“Your leg…” 

“I’ll tell you if it hurts. Joel, please…”

He lets out a shuddering breath. 

Then, he does just what I ask him to do.

It’s not painful. But it is a lot. 

His dick hits the highest point inside me he can get to, and it’s so sensitive, it feels like he’s fucking up into my belly button, thrusting so hard that it meets resistance at the top of each curve of him inside me—

His finger gets harder against my clit, too. And, fucking hell, if it wasn’t intense before, it’s fucking overwhelming now. 

Not-quite-painful pleasure sparks through from deep inside me to every inch of my body. 

“Darlin’,” he gasps, opening his mouth against my neck in pleasure, as his pants get more frantic and his thrusts more erratic. It feels so good, and I’m just pinned underneath him, my left knee pressed into his hip, the other leg still flat on the bed.

His thrusts are jolting me,  and there’s definitely pain coming from my wound, but it’s absolutely nothing compared to the feeling of him inside me, fucking me into the mattress as I feel the sweat on his skin—“Darlin’, you feel so good, wrapped around me like this…wanted you for so long, so fuckin’ long, thought about this so many times with my hand on me—” he keeps spilling words, filthy words, into the place where my neck meets my shoulder, and I lap it all up. His voice is like sweet, husky syrup to my ears and I hold him there with his words buzzing into my skin, letting them carry me away to a place where it’s just the two of us, just his cock sliding in and out, fucking me just like I always dreamed of it, his finger still rubbing earnest circles over my clit—

It comes over me suddenly, builds up unexpectedly. “Joel! Joel, I’m gonna…” 

He kisses the shell of my ear, all hot breath and wet spit, “Do it, baby, come on my cock…come for me, darlin’, I gotcha…” 

And I do. Pleasure rises and rises and rises and then drops, a strangled cry finding its way out of my throat before Joel presses his hand over my mouth to swallow the sound. He moans along with me, and when he lifts his head from my neck, the look on his face keeps me riding my orgasm for just that little bit longer. Totally relaxed in pleasure, his eyes fluttering as they struggle to stay open, his mouth hanging open with spit glistening on his lips. He comes, then, inside of me, and it spills down my thighs with each push back in and out. 

I stroke the back of his head as the aftershocks from my high milk his pleasure out for as long as they can. I can feel the release of his muscles, the last of his orgasm fading and leaving him flushed and hot and lovely inside me. 

I pant against his cheek. He breathes against mine, fast, taking deep breaths. He’s still inside me. I don’t want him to ever not be. 

So when he goes to pull out, I twist my leg at his hip so my foot presses into the base of his back, anchoring him there. “Stay,” I say, pleading, “please. Just for a minute.” 

Wordless, he nods, and leaves precious little kisses all across my face and neck. Peppers them down my chest as far as he can go with the way I’ve got him pinned in place. I could keep him here forever. Inside me, on top of me, all around me. His hair is wet with sweat, beads of it dripping down from the back of his neck and onto my breasts.

Jesus. 

“Joel,” I whisper. It feels like I’m only ever going to be able to say his name again. “That was…Jesus, Joel, that was good.” 

Breathy, he chuckles. “Better than good,” he says. Then he pulls away, and I feel the cold nip of the air start to tickle against my skin, the wetness between my thighs getting cooler. Goosebumps raise on my skin, and Joel notices. “Sorry, darlin’, I’m gonna have to pull out now. Get us cleaned up a bit and warm.” He sounds genuinely sorry, stroking my face as if in consolation. 

I sigh, but I know he’s right. Nodding, I give him one last, long kiss on his mouth. “Hurry back,” I say when he climbs off of me and heads into the bathroom. 

Hearing the gentle slosh of water, I close my eyes, and feel the cool sheets beneath my skin. There’s a mess between my thighs, dripping down onto the sheet. We should probably have put a towel down. But. 

I am about to tell Joel as much when he comes back in with a warm, wet washcloth, but then realise he’s brought a towel with him, too. Too little, too late.

“We made a bit of a mess,” I say, letting my head loll towards him on the pillow. He chuckles in the quiet dimness of the room, the low light flickering over his bare skin. 

“Nothin’ we can’t clear up,” he replies, settling between my legs again. Carefully, he wipes at my skin with the washcloth, clearing away my own wetness and his release. I sigh, enjoying the warmth, the way he rubs absently at my knee with his spare hand. He cleans himself up next, then tosses the washcloth across the room. 

“Scooch,” he says gently, pushing at my hip. “I’ll put a towel down.” 

“Joel, I think you’re about a half hour too late with that,” I smirk, but do as he asks so he can lay the towel over the mattress, spreading it as far as he can.

“We can clean the sheets properly in the morning,” he announces, the grabs the comforter from the floor—I don’t even remember when it got there—and carefully brings it up over my body. 

I sigh into the cool fabric and feel the mattress dip beneath Joel’s weight. He crawls into bed beside me, and soon his arms are pulling me against his chest. 

I settle with my head over his ribcage, my leg hooked over his as he lies on his back. The covers are pulled right up to my neck, and I take a moment to pull the corner over the top of Joel’s chest, only just avoiding my face. 

“Joel,” I say, quiet. 

“Hm?” He murmurs as his hand absently rubs circles into my shoulder. His eyes are closed, his other hand propped under his head. When I look up at him, he looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him, blissed-out and content. It’s such a beautiful sight that I debate resisting the tiredness in my body and just staying up to watch him like this. 

I lift my hand, take hold of his cheek. Turn him to face me, then lean in and kiss him. “I’ve always loved you,” I whisper against his mouth. “I need you to know that.” 

His eyes crack open to look into mine. “I always loved you, too,” he strokes at my bottom lip with his thumb. “Now, come on. Let’s get some sleep, alright? Been wantin’ to hold you to sleep for a long time.” 

Warmth blooms in my chest. I kiss him again, just once, and snuggle in closer before putting my head back where it was. 

And, just like the invisible string that seemed to tie us together all this time, I sit comfortably in this space, letting all the tangles and the knots in my mind unravel. What’s past is past, and we’re here now. 

After everything, after the good, the bad, letting this thing between us come back from the dead—

We’re here.

{❤️end❤️}

notes: ah i can't believe it's finished ❤️ thank you SO much for reading and enjoying this fic with me, all your responses have made me so happy and i'm just so glad it's brought some of you joy. i hope you enjoyed the final chapter! i'm considering maybe writing some one-shots set in this universe at some point, or some little drabbles, so keep an eye out for those :)

love u, take care of yourself! ❤️

ps: as always this is post-apocalyptic and a fanfiction but in real life don't forget to always practice safe sex babes!

taglist below

@rosymythologies @lover1307 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @pinkrose1422 @lavenderhhze @abbyhaslongshorts @trippoverrt @emilianamason

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller story #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #my fic #my fic: joel #my fic: joel smut

[elliesbelle]

Since your brain is huge and your meat is Big™, where do you stand on the Rellie vs Dellie debate. I've seen a hell of a lot of "Riley and Ellie were soulmates, Ellie was Dina's soulmate but not vice versa". I ship Ellie with long term therapy and medication so I can't comment but I'll take either of those over ellabs lmao

KSJLKDFJKLDF this description of me is making me howl

i did naught even see that there was a debate between rellie vs dellie omg? but let me gather my thoughts.

i personally believe in the concept of soulmates myself. and it's not something i will deny could exist in the tlou universe. however (and i may get flack for this), i don't think we've seen a character who's destined to be ellie's soulmate in the game tbh. not just romantically, but platonically either.

idk, i think a lot of ellie's life is based on circumstance. so her relationships are more based on that, rather than an inherent soul tie with the person. riley and dina were both her best friend at one point, and i think the process of ellie developing feelings for both of them was similar. but she was also a different person during the phases of her life where she had feelings for them respectively. so i feel as if the debate on who is better for ellie is honestly a moot point.

we also only got a fraction of riley vs what we got with dina, so we weren't given the opportunity to explore much else of riley's personality and chemistry with ellie as we did with dina.

as to who she had more love for, idk. probably dina? but i mean, she was an adult by this point and her shared traumatic experiences with dina probably bonded them more.

at the end of the day, the person ellie loved the most is joel, which is why she left dina in the first place. would she have done it if it were riley and not dina in the situation? idk. i think tlou2 cemented how much rage and guilt ellie clung onto, so she probably would have.

i personally ship ellie with a good insurance and in inpatient psychiatric ward myself. our girl needs to heal.

(did someone say ellie needs to heal? omg what a coincidence, @cherriesxinthespring's wasteland baby! series on ao3 is a story about both ellie and reader healing from shit in their past! perhaps we should all check it out omg)

#nawt me plugging in my rosie's fic lsdkfcjdskl #i'm just so excited rosie's writing again #also this ask reminds me of an ellabs post i have sitting in my drafts rn #lemme go just clear it out of there cause it was very big brained of me #anon #belle answers

[thelostaardvark]

One thing that makes me sad about the over saturated franchise of The Last of Us is that Naughty Dog is done with Uncharted.

I’m sure TLOU isn’t the only thing to blame but I wish the studio had kept with it instead of turning it over to another.

I would have appreciated a remake of the first 3 uncharteds vs the remake of TLOU1. I have a deep desire to play the Nathan Drake Collection again without wanting to rip out my hair from frustration. The Uncharted series holds such a special place in my heart, but it really sucks that I’ll probably never replay the first game or so just because it’s too frustrating to play, some due to outdated gameplay and just the way the combat scenes are structured (also bc I suck but less bc of that reason than usual)

#uncharted #uncharted 4 #nathan drake #Nathan Drake collection #Sam Drake #the last of us

[colorisbyshe]

i think the changes in the bill and frank plotline help illuminate everything i hate about TLOU 2.

because, narratively, bill serves the same purpose in both the game and the tv show. he represents where joel is, emotionally, at that point in the story. joel is in “survival of the fittest, loving people always hurts you in the end, do what you can do to live and fuck everyone else” mode, especially after losing tess. tess had just proved that loving people WILL get you killed.

but the rest of the game is meant to sort of be a refutation of that.

ellie is alive because he he loved her. he is alive and life is worth living because he loves ellie back.

a direct contrast to bill who is alive but not living because he has never one left to love.

in the show, changing bill and frank’s plotline to show that, yeah, you WILL always die, you can’t escape death, but if you are with someone you love, the hardships are worth it, makes it so bill and frank don’t just exist to contrast with joel and tess but to really hammer home the themes of the story itself--love is worth it, community is worth it, you can survive so much BETTER if you aren’t alone. bill would have died of gunshot wounds without frank.

and this is how get around to “why i fucking hate TLOU 2″ because joel dies BECAUSE he loves ellie. but doesn’t get to die for her. he is killed not on his own terms, directly saving her, but as a consequence, later on, separated from that. and ellie suffers for loving him. she’s MISERABLE because she loved him. she can’t even play his guitar anymore.

bill, who is still alive in the game, is affirmed. love is a mistake. it either kills you or you end up alone anyways.

i think the subtle difference in narrative purpose (game’s “bill is wrong for doubting the power of love... or is he?” vs the show’s “bill WAS wrong for doubting hte power of love and is in fact HEALED through love”) also radically changes how this series handles gay characters. in the game, this tragic take robs frank of ANY representation, makes bill an ambiguously gay, flat curmudgeon, and ultimately makes ellie (AND riley AND dinah) just hopeless fulfilled prophecies.

and using lev as the trans punching bag to hold up abby’s story and make her sympathetic is made even bleaker.

because... now all of the lgbt people exist in the story as just like... tools for a lackluster message as opposed to well loved, nuanced characters.

[spiderfunkz]

✦ 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄!

blair . fifteen . nerd . jazz and rock enjoyer . spiderman obsessed . history and english smart . neil perry kinnie . insect enthusiast . ravi singh apologist . peeta mellark's #1 supporter .

stuff 💭 → i am okay with pet names ( just don't be weird with it ), my blog is for all ages i don't mind you interacting with my work, again just don't b weird with it.

loves 🫀 → art, cinema, poetry, classic literature, jazz, marvel, the marauders era, comics, music, writing and reading, analog horror, coming of age movies, rain, foggy weather, the ocean, long car trips.

artists 💤 → slowdive, cocteau twins, my bloody valentine, laufey, david bowie, tv girl, alex g, the smiths, radiohead, tame impala, duster, sign crushes motorist, the beatles, the smashing pumpkins, pixies, the cure, beabadoobee, lamp, kaede, ichiko aoba, salvia palth, mage tears, car seat headrest, grouper, deftones, chet baker, boygenius, maya hawke, whatever dad, adrianne lenker.

movies / series ⭐️ → marvel movies & series, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, dead poets society, hp franchise, little women, lady bird, studio ghibli, drowning love, the perks of being a wallflower, la la land, tlou series, scott pilgrim vs. the world, fnaf, the hunger games series, pjo series, friends, stranger things, before trilogy.

mutuals feel free to ask anything abt me <3

#♡ . about me #about me

[joels6string]

Hi,

I had a question about your comment that none of the hardcore game fans you know preferred the series or any of its changes. Does that include changes they included to add to and enrich a characters story / past (such as Joel and his head scar) or is it more like the complete re-write of Bill and Frank?

I am not disagreeing, just generally curious because most of the people I have spoken to about the show did not play the game so they don't have it to compare / contrast with the show.

Well, Joel and his head scar isn’t a thing in the game. It’s a nose scar he gets on outbreak day and we see how he gets it. He has what looks like a scar in the original PS3 game but it’s not there in the remasters or TLOU 2 so it clearly wasn’t too important in the game universe. All that was an addition for the series. Since he has no nose scar, it seems like it was a swap vs referencing that original PS3 scar.

None of them, including me, mind the Bill re-write, in fact it’s like the one episode I truly enjoyed. It’s mostly the watering down of Joel’s character, how his entire arc is based around failure which just isn’t the case in the game, there it’s just his growing love for Ellie and protecting her at all costs simply because she’s the first person to matter to him in a very long time, the rushing of the plot and the lack of emotional potency from it, adding things that didn’t need to be there while neglecting other parts of the actual story, and no spores which was a core piece of lore that separated TLOU from other zombie media.

It’s fine as a TV series, it looks nice and all, and for people who never played it hits all the buttons. Although I had a friend who didn’t play say he didn’t get the big deal and I told him to play and maybe he’ll get it lol. But it will just never compare to the story that me and my friends all love. Some people also just prefer the source material, it’s like thinking a book is better than a movie 🤷🏻‍♀️.

#katfish over and out

[itslikeicons]

Game VS. Serie

#TLOU #tlou sarah #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #hbo #hbo the last of us #hbo joel #tommy miller #gabriel luna #tlou joel #pedro pascal as joel miller #Gabriel Luna as Tommy Miller #Sarah Miller #nico parker #game vs serie #vs #game #the last of us part 1 #the last of us icons #joel #TLOU Tv Serie #tlou Game vs Serie

[crimsonxe]

Its been a day and I’m still not over TLoU-HBO 1x03. Though my mind did move to the future so: spoilers under the cut for not only potentially future HBO series but also Part II of the games

So hoping that they take the “kinder” approach not only in pulling back on a particular death to something like a pistol shot, cause I want Abby to be given a fair chance by viewers and the original scene sets up for many an “I will only hate this person and nothing will change my mind” mental roadblock cause “golf club” vs. pistol shot. Pulling back the brutal way it was originally done could help with that. Ftr so it’s not misunderstood: I was in the camp that liked Abby by the end, because of her journey and bond with Lev. I just want others to have a chance of going that route with her too, rather than being roadblocked.

But my main thing: please do an Ellie and Dina reunion part for the end of the Part II-arc. Like currently it’s “open to interpretation” but I want them to be on par with Bill and Frank in this “kinder” interpretation of the story. Not to mention having the various guitar and singing scenes (though that might be difficult cause I’m not sure if Bella is a singer or not. Not even diving into the licensing for certain songs.)

#tlou #the last of us #tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers #hbo

[zaphffayrkunialofphinsfable]

I've been thinking about genre

I am a worldbuilder, and I have thought of a new world

so the world starts off like a typical fantasy world. I am basing this age off of: Middle Earth from Tolkiens writings , Faerunn from d&d, Greyhawk from d&d, Khorvaire from d&d, The Continent from The Witcher, The Young Worlds from Elric Of Melnibone and The Lands Between from Elden Ring & Dark Souls & Bloodborne, Tal'dorei & Wildemount from Critical Role, Cthulhu Mythos from HP Lovecraft, Dominaria from MTG, Innistrad from MTG, Ravnica from MTG, Alara from MTG, Arkhos from MTG, Cridhe from MTG, Fiora from MTG, Ir from MTG, Ixalan from MTG, Kaladesh from MTG, Kaldheim, Kamigawa from MTG, Kephalai from MTG, Lorwyn/Shadowmoor from MTG, Mercadia from MTG, Muraganda from MTG, Rabiah from MTG, Regatha from MTG, Shandalar from MTG, Tarkir from MTG, Theros from MTG, Ulgrotha from MTG, Valla from MTG, Vryn from MTG, Wildfire from MTG, Zendikar from MTG, Warhammer AoS by Games Workshop, Physical World from Berserk, Hyrule From Zelda, The Age Of Misrule, Discworld from Terry Pratchett, Runeterra by LoL, Westeros from GoT, Hybroria from Conan The Barbarian, 

then the worlds peoples will advance over time to a point were the world is in a sort of late 80s time when a sudden explosion of magic gives surtain people superpowers. I am basing this age off of: Marvel, DC, Image Comics, Dark Horse Comics, Gerard Ways Comics, Watchmen, The Sandman

then the peoples will advance more to sci fi type world. I will base this off of: Star Wars, Warhammer 40k, Blade Runner, Dead Space, Dune Universe, New Eden by EVE Online, Halo universe, Hyperion Universe, Mass Effect universe, Apex Legends & Titanfall Universe, Star Trek Universe, Chaos Walking Trilogy Universe, Cowboy Bepop Universe, Echopraxia, Overwatch

then a sort of apocalypse event happened across the whole universe. I will base this off of: Planet Of The Apes, Mad Max, The Hunger Games, Love And Monsters, Mortal Engines, War Of The Worlds, I Am Legend, Atlas Shrugged, I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream, Chainsaw Man, Akira, V For Vendetta, Threads, Terminator, Doom, Tank Girl, Mortal Kombat, Independence Day, Resident Evil, Fallout, The Matrix, Y The Last Man, Godzilla Universe, Adventure Time, The Walking Dead, TLOU, Snowpiercer, Frostpunk, Horizon, Far Cry, Kipo And The Age Of The Wonderbeasts

Other World Inspirations That I could not fit in: Kingverse, Amphibia, Osemanverse, Owl House, Gravity Falls, Scott pilgrim Vs The World, Gorillaz+Power Puff Girls, Good Omens, the idea that every conspiracy theory (see wendigoon conspiracy theory iceberg series on YouTube) is true, all cryptids exist, The Old Testament Orthodox Version, McCarthyverse, Undertale

(I might edit to add more)

#worldbuilding #post apocalypse #sci fi #dystopia #apocalypse #post apocalyptic #speculative fiction #aliens #sci fi writing #fantasy #dark fantasy #superhero

[miasmat]

Thank you for the tag @bl-beater (like a month ago sorry;-;)

Favorite color : Blue 🟦

Favorite flavor : Shrimp

Favorite music : ouf, I'd say mostly rock and metal, but really anything that catches my ear

Favorite movie : I don't think I have a favourite movie, but my comfort movie is The Conjuring oddly enough

Favorite series: I'm gonna go with game series - Fallout

Last Song: https://open.spotify.com/track/6wqJeItl3Vc3az4ZicSQAB?si=NTz_6hAMTrC-qHH-JIubow

Last Movie: Alien vs. Predator

Currently Reading: Beckett's Jyhad Diary

Currently watching: The X-Files, TLOU

Currently working on: A Vaas ooak and ton of Beckett art

#ask miasmat

[heathersapples]

people who don’t know about Abby watching TLOU series on hbo vs me being acutely aware of her existence in TLOU gaming universe and potential looming existence in the hbo series

#AND THATS WHY IM NOT WATCHING IT. THANK YOU #TLOU #the last of us #tlou hbo

[west-haven]

it’s been like twenty four hours and I am still very disgruntled by episode two of tlou hbo omg (warning, complaining an spoilers under the cut)

like why did they have to basically have clickers kiss people

like I am so worried for the rest of the series, I am so afraid they’re gonna continue doing more little weird changes that aren’t just justified changes

cuz I was fine with the first episode, the most egregious thing was the plane crash bit but that was QUICK and inconsequential

but the tendrils and stuff, like it’s just such a big change that the implications are so mystifying. Like are infected gonna sense the bit of infection in Ellie like it’s a spider sense and hunt her out? Since they are all ~*connected*~ and shit?? And they can ~*sense*~ the infection in Tess and just had to fully infect her??

I’m just so peeved omg it’s maddening that more people aren’t weirded out and I keep on seeing people praise the change and it makes me feel like I’m going crazy and just an asshole

Me thinking a straight adaptation of the game by HBO, by the guy who helmed Chernobyl, and I thought it would be a slam dunk. But then they TWEAKED core elements about the infected that just throw things off JUST enough. There was nothing wrong with it being spores omg

Still, I’m hoping that there are no other curve balls that derail shit further. I’m optimistic that Bill will be done very well, and they’ll flesh out his relationship with Frank in a very believable way

I’m still the longtime fan of this series, from fucking 2013, but shit, this hurts. At least I got my long time favorite six hour movie cut of the game on YouTube to soothe my soul

PS so the writers trying to explain things like “what if they’re only violently trying to infect people cuz people struggle, what if you didn’t struggle, this shows that” is JUST esoteric enough that if they wanted to actually mean that, they should have hinted to it. That is too big of a weird thing to introduce in episode TWO, especially without some sort of hint that it’s a viable option vs just blindly fighting back. If they had built up a bit more that it was a tactic, then MAYBE it wouldn’t seem so jarring, but this is so left field it’s not even in the same ballpark. If they set up their weird implications, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. If they wanted to do this, it shouldn’t have happened to a core member of the initial cast, and it shouldn’t have happened in episode two during some of the first interactions with the infected

okay I HAVE to stop complaining omg I’m gonna go play p3p

#a day in the life of Carrie #Carrie plays tlou #kinda #Carrie wants to play tlou instead of watch the HBO series lol #and finally #Carrie complains about tlou hbo

[mentalmender]

Games: Expectations vs. Reality

As a kid I used to love gaming so much that I would stay up until two am and then pass out on my bed. Since I have been growing up these few past years, I noticed that various people play it just for the hype and not for the emotions, story line and the development itself. 

I honestly don’t understand because since I love video games, I have always been one to appreciate them.

For example, when The Last Of Us came out to PS4 I was really excited because it looked really cool and I knew I would have a good time playing it.

Couple months past and I’m at the point to where I just replay the game ONLY BECAUSE I have grown with the characters, I love the scenery and the aesthetic of the various places you roam through. I fell in love with ellie because I saw myself in her to a point.

Same thing happened when The Last Of Us Pt. 2 came out, honestly i started tearing up because I was ready to dive back into this world where I felt like I belonged. I remember I started rambling to my father about how I was excited, the storyline, and how much they aged and wondering what was different or what changed. 

I will say it again.. I fell in love with Ellie. I really enjoyed the games and I was connecting with all the characters except for one... T_T  but anyway summing it up these two video games are something I cherish. 

THEN AGAIN you have to think about it. People (most) had very high expectations for the prt. 2 but stuff happens.. it may have been rushed and all the other stuff but the reality part is that it is just a game. 

Yeah, we have expectations but not everything will live up to it.

Overall what i’m trying to say is that it is a good game either way you look at it, we still have to live our lives and even though I’m a hardcore fan of this series.... I can how and why other people have their opinions.

At the end of the day, you can't deny that these video games teach you lessons and makes you go on a mental and emotional journey while playing...

What Are your thoughts on this? Or what video games would you talk about ?

#games #video games #expectations #reality #expectations vs reality #your thoughts #thoughts #the last of us #tlou #the last of us pt ii #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie tlou #tlou series #gaming

[transgamerthoughts]

Idle Thoughts On Games During Pandemic Times

I’m in an interesting position as I write this. Since I’ve written here I have moved out of journalism and towards the dev side of games. Good news! I’m happier! Bad news! It can feel weird to have public opinions.  That said, I miss writing and I’ve had some thoughts about games I’ve played (mostly major titles) that I want to share. I’m keeping them loose and I hope folks will allow me the indulgence. Here we are!

Ghost of Tsushima 

I’ve been surprised by how playable Ghost of Tsushima is. Which is to say that the world is very enjoyable to explore. There’s something about ambling between marker to marker, or stumbling upon a few hidden items, that fundamentally works. I’ve seen some folks imply that this is simply the result of overproduced open-world design philosophies. A sort of focus-tested gaming drug-world that it’s easy to slide into. There’s probably some truth to that, and there’s a discussion to be had about the dangers of pastoralism, but I think that the open-world itself is designed well. Sure, there’s collectables and outposts to conquer and all the things you would expect but those are not the appeal. In fact, in many cases, engaging with those things feels worse than wandering. In the early game particularly, combat is not enjoyable. But there’s a sensibility to the world, a sort of stubborn antiquatedness that calls back to an open-world structure—one where space existed for its own sake—that we don’t see in as many games now. That’s curious to me because Tsushima has been criticized for feeling old-fashioned but I think this approach to world design isn’t so far removed from Breath of the Wild. It is certain littered with more *stuff* that you can stumble on but despite the fact that I can set markers or unlock bonuses that make these things easier to find, I don’t feel an overwhelming push to engage with them.

That good because combat is a decidedly mixed affair. I’m not eager to slide into difficulty discussions but if Tsushima’s closest cousin is Assassin’s Creed, it’s no surprise that I’ve instantly found the game more playable at a lower difficulty setting. If the goal is to emulate film—and there can be discussion about how well that’s actually done; black and white filters don’t suffice to make something comparable to Kurosawa—then Tsushima’s normally cluttered and gamey combat rubs against that impulse. It’s a game with sub-weapons, ninja-like tools, multiple stances for breaking the guards of certain enemies, and a wealth of skill trees. The beauty of the action (which you can frame at the push of a button thanks to a respectable photo mode) can get lost in the shuffle.  Lowering the difficulty has led to speedier and more dramatic encounters where a few sword strokes can slay a handful of men. It’s a curious thing, as I tend to play games on higher difficulties, but this is one of the few times where I felt it might have served a game better to streamline combat down to the most basic of interactions. Tsushima’s combat can get very busy and I did not enjoy tackling challenges or outpost conquest until I progressed to unlock more abilities while also lowering the difficulty. Even then, those are the moments I care for the least.

I feel unable to comment on critical discussions about Tsushima’s story and politics but as an observer to the input of Japanese-American writers and Japanese devs/players, one thing that’s struck me is how the broader gamer culture has reacted to the dialogue. There have been moments where gamers have minimized the voices of some critics with the exultations of certain Japanese writers, which eliminates valid concerns from people who have every right to look close at a game connected to their heritage. The lens through which Tsushima was made was at the end of the day a Western one and that’s worth discussing. I am grateful for the writing of critics like Kazuma Hashimoto at Polygon that dig into these tensions.  I will say that I feel like Tsushima sometimes wants to do the proper thematic thing where it will say that entrenched nobility and cultural notions of honor can be inherently damaging but because that’s mostly expressed, at least in the main plot, as “the outside invaders are besting us because of our traditions” it falls flat. Tsushima works best in side quests where the stakes are smaller. It’s thematic aspirations are best when things are personal and on a more humble scale. I like the version of Tsushima I get to play in those moments more than I like the grand gestures towards honor or combat challenges. Which is to say I mostly want Way of the Samurai with multiple zones and a more connective tissue. Tsushima teases that possibility without ever really getting there. In those teasing moment, the game makes a lot more sense to me.

I’ve enjoyed myself and intend to finish soon. That enjoyment comes with a lingering question: what other game could this have been? It’s inspired an image in my mind of a different sort of open-world ronin game where there is a smatter of villages with sub-stories and perhaps the smallest A-plot. A game with Mongol invaders, dramatic family conflict, or shogunate decrees.  Tsushima has capture my attention but I do wonder more about what might have been that what is right in front of my eyes.

The Last of Us: Part II

I have struggled with this game in ways I did not know were possible. When I play it, I find myself taken in by the raw skill of the actors. There’s a mood and tone I enjoy, a somber twinge to the infected escapades that lingers from the first game. I like The Last of Us. I think there’s small moments of character interaction that express core things about the cast’s shifting relationships. James Howell embarked on a video essay series about this very thing and while it will remain unfinished perhaps forever, I suggest engaging with it. Suffice it to say, the changing language of Joel and Ellie’s mechanical interactions does a lot to underscore the narrative. I think players often think of the The Last of Us in terms of pure narrative but these smaller considerations reveal a game with a very natural approach to story telling. The Last of Us 2 has these moments and often hides them within combat. When multiple factions of humans and infected interact, their clash and the behavior of the AI tells something fundamental about the game world. 

The Last of Us: Part II is a cynical game with an unflattering view of humanity, a view that (in spite of Joel’s selfishness in the first game’s climax) feels somewhat at odds with what came before. It is, in fact, possibly the most cynical game I’ve ever played. That’s hard to talk about but it’s best expressed in the various dying barks of enemies or moments where the player is forced into violent, dehumanizing slaughter. In the former case, it feels like a magic trick. The first time you hear someone cry out their dog’s name, it can be tragic. The next five times you hear it, it feels forced. Like any trick, it’s never as powerful as the first time. You might argue that’s the point: that as you follow Ellie’s journey, the player also stripes enemies of their humanity and agency but the player’s culpability is secondary to the writer’s in some ways.

Players did not contrive to have Ellie rob Nora, one of the game’s major black characters, of her fundamental dignity before murdering her. Nor are players the ones who shove a knife into Mel’s pregnant stomach. Those are scenarios crafted by designers and writers, and much like how retroactively guilting the player for killing a doctor in the first game (An unavoidable action, mind you! Joel will do this regardless of what the player wants.) feels manipulative, calling a player’s culpability into question as Ellie fails to act like any sort of reasonable human being also rings hollow. There is a perpetual push and pull between players and controllable actors, best expressed in the verbs that we are allowed to perform. It is telling the more often than not, Ellie’s most egregious acts of violence happen outside of the player’s control. 

And yet there are moments where I buy deeply into the story. Notably, it happens when Abby is on screen more than Ellie. (Tangent: Abby has more interesting gameplay scenarios that lean closer to horror game vibes like what you’d find in The Evil Within. TLOU is way more interesting working in that mode than HUMAN vs. HUMAN drama.) Abby is also allowed more growth and agency than the script ever gives Ellie. At the core of this is Abby’s relationship with Lev. It is here that I’ve had my largest struggle with the game. 

Discussion about Lev has often bowled over transgender commentators.  For many people, Lev resonates regardless of anything the plot says about his gender. Lev captures people’s attention because Lev is eminently likable. That’s a testament to Naughty Dog’s writing. Still, there is a sense that Lev’s wider resonance has left some folks (particularly queer folks) without as much space to talk among themselves and hash out sentiments without the discussion getting overpowered. This is complicated by an environment where creators seem more empowered to directly speak to criticisms.

Which is to say that as a trans critic (perhaps ex-critic) watching from the sidelines, I was very hurt and dismayed to watch people who do not share in the transgender experience comment quickly about Lev. And while the discussions about Lev are varied—the trans community, like any community, is not a monolith—it’s sometimes felt like trans voices were made the quietest when talking about this character.

Many things are true about art at the same time. Lev can act, as is the case for some players, as a token figure whose struggles are appropriated and turned into spice adding flavor to the apocalypse.  Spice that allows us to be seen as we are usually seen: in pain and defined by that pain, and which displays that pain voyueristically for cis players. Lev can also be a kind-hearted and respectable hero, and ray of light within a dark story. Neither feeling is in competition. Some will find strength and inspiration in the character, others will see the machinations of corporate powers and award-chasing writers. Both can be true.

Enthusiastic fans and players are quick—not in a malicious sense; merely in their excitement—to defend the things they enjoy. If they found a thing good it stands to reason the thing must be good. They empathized and that is taken as proof that a thing is good irrespective of other concerns. This is a kind impulse but one that robs people of their concerns, or at the very least close off conversations quickly. I cannot properly diagnose this except to suggest that there’s a growing force of cultural positivism that’s encircled games of a certain scale. One which shuts down a lot of valuable engagement. The bigness of the moment, of the object, demands the moment be the Best Possible Moment For Games regardless of the qualities of the object itself. That’s worrisome to me.

The Last of Us: Part II has become nearly impossible to talk about even now because we are dealing with an object so large as to have a gravity that weighs everything down. A game with sublime moments that intoxicate deeply but one where voices of critique or caution are buried away largely because of the potency of that intoxication. I deeply wish that wasn’t the case because the breadth of discussions that might’ve happened would have been really valuable.

Aim Lab

I’ve gotten really into Valorant. It’s scratched an itch for a type of multiplayer shooter that I haven’t had scratched in a long time. My experience with the game itself has been good but the surrounding experience has been decidedly mixed. Suffice it to say I’m mostly living the solo-queue life and it’s a miserable existence even with the occasional highs. Yet, there’s a mechanical crunchiness to Valorant that deeply compels me and I’ve enough competitive drive that (in spite of the fact that the most of beloved social aspects of the game seem generally out of reach for me) I’ve really devoted myself to improving as player. Enter Aim Lab. It’s a totally free aim trainer that anyone can download off Steam. It has a variety of drills and exercises that can be used to improve a variety of first-person shooter skills. In one case, you might be flicking from target to target with the express goal of training your aiming speed. In another you might need to look at a group of colored balls, which will then disappear with one of them changed. You’ll then need to shoot at the different one as quickly as possible. You earn a score for each drill, which is tracked and compared to global records and folded into a ranking system. I’ve placed in the “Ruby” range for my rank, which is mostly in the middle of the road. (It’s a weird rank above gold but I think before Plat?) Mechanically sound with sloppy spots. I’m able to identify these thanks to Aim Labs. For instance, I know that I am fast and relatively accurate but that tracking moving targets is a difficulty for me. I know that I am quicker at things on the right side of my screen but also that I’m thankfully able to read changes in the environment quickly. This might sounds like a dry and rote way to approach video games but Aim Labs’ suite of repeatable and trackable challenges means that it is very easy to trace gradual improvements.

As a result, what might have been dull work becomes something akin to going to the gym. I can feel the ways in which my control over a mouse have changed. I understand which muscles need more flexing. Importantly, for all my weakness I also know strengths. Playing Aim Labs—and yes, this is play—becomes a semi-automatic and meditative experience like swinging at a batting cage. 

As a player (again, I hesitate to use the word critic anymore) who tends to engage with games on thematic levels even when it comes to mechanics, it’s been surprisingly gratifying. Part personal ritual, part labor. Bubblegum for the brain. Chew chew chew. Shoot shoot shoot. Take some notes and chew some more. Not much more to say except Aim Labs has surprised me with how enjoyable and relaxing it can be.

Necrobarista

Necrobarista was not what I expected. That’s because I started playing it with what felt like a safe-assumption: it would be comparable to some of my favorite indie “drink” games like Va-11 Hall-A or Coffee Talk. It’s hard for me to break down those games and how their structure—insightful conversations punctuated by drink-mixing and the occasional memory puzzle or story choice—works for me. I know folks who have played those games and bounced off for entirely understandable reasons but I love them. They call to mind some of the personal experience I had as both someone who worked at a bar and coffee shop. In spite of their fantasy settings, they evoke a highly specific and idiosyncratic part of my brain. Necrobarista doesn’t quite do that because it is strictly a visual novel. Repetitive work such as drink making is entirely absence. As a result, I initially found Necrobarista harder to engage with. It lacked the percussive but comfortable rhythm I was craving in quarantine. 

That highly specific preferential quirk/personal need might place the game lower on my list then the other two (the game’s certainly in conversation with them to a degree; it’s got plenty of shout-outs and references that make it clear the designers know the ballpark they’re playing in) but it doesn’t mean it is a “lesser” game in terms of the world it is presenting or the character you’re watching. Necrobarista has, if nothing else, some of the most naturally flowing dialog I’ve experienced in a while. That is partly because I’ve been sampling so much AAA stuff, where the writing tends to eschew the evocative for clean, crisp (and corporate!) staccato, but even in comparison to other VNs or drink games, it finds some more integrated and interesting ways to handle lore dumps. That’s helped by the core conceit. The lead character Maddy Xiāo runs a coffee shop alongside her wise former boss Chay that just so happens to serve drinks to the recent deceased. That makes it really easy to introduce a character, as the plot soon does, fresh off the mortal coil and eager to learn about life after death. It’s a common writer’s trick to place a clueless character in a plot so world-building can happen but because the stakes are high—the freshly-deceased have only 24 hours before they pass into the afterlife—there’s an urgency in the explanations that feels warranted. I could probably spend a lot of time breaking down the ways in which Necrobarista successful builds the world around the player. From a well-framed scenario and properly placed characters (an inquisitive child-genius, for instance) to the ability to click highlighted words for snarky but never crass footnotes, you never want for necessary knowledge but also never feel like your hand is being held. You’re not digging for meaning or piecing together arcane lore concepts. You know what you need to know, it feels fun to learn it, and the characters all make sense. They’re also incredibly likable. Necrobarista’s largest strength isn’t that the details are handled well; it’s that the core cast is deeply relatable. That’s important because the story moves from coffee to magic and death within a clipped 4 hour playtime. Relationships are clear, motivations clearer, and while some of the standout story-telling pieces are in optionally readable side-chapters, the main story lifted up by how eminently fun it is to eavesdrop of these character’s lives. The only glaring exception is a Greek chorus of robots that seem out of place and overly-chatty. Necrobarista sometimes feels eager to impress structurally, and that’s no more clearer than when these fellas are on screen. The difficult thing about Necrobarista’s literary approach is that the pandemic’s completely shot my attention span. It took my two weeks of on and off play to finish what is a very short game. That said, given the enormity of some world events I found it edifying and cathartic to engage with a piece of media explicitly concerned with death and dying. It wasn’t what I thought and I kinda wish it had a bit more happening mechanically but I’m really happy for the time I spent with this one.

Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers

Shadowbringers and Final Fantasy XIV in general is a difficult thing talk about. Not because of the accumulated history of a long-running game and storyline but because my feelings are ultimately swayed by a host of personal and specific emotions. I am a social player on a social server. I’ve spent just as much time coming up with roleplaying plotline and casually taking in taverns as I have tackling difficult bosses. I have made dear friends through FFXIV and even more than that. Those relationships, their energy and gravity, mixed into everything like an errand paint drop. You can hardly see it in the mixture but it’s unavoidably there. For many, this is a game of heroes and anime plots. For me, it has been a doorway to some of the most fruitful, edifying, and occasional painful experiences of my life.  I say this because I want it understood that in spite of this sentiment, Final Fantasy XIV is a good game and Shadowbringers is easily one of the most confident pieces of video-game storytelling that I’ve ever experienced. Which isn’t to say it’s not sometimes trite or predictable. It’s not to suggest there is something groundbreaking here. For all of the craftsmanship, Shadowbringers often succeeds by embracing the conventional. It sticks to more well-worn plot structures, it simplified job gameplay and streamlined a variety of features whose strange and un-sanded bumps brought charm to the game. Yet, in the streamlining comes something more refined. Like running a soup through a fine mesh sieve to create something creamier and more rich. When you look at Shadowbringers high level plot: travel to the corners of the world to fight monsters, all while unraveling cosmic secrets.. it’s familiar. Even as the patches following the launch experience did, as all FFXIV patches do, focus on the fallout of the main story’s event, it kept to a strict content release pattern. If you’re digging for a revolutionary experience, Shadowbringers cannot offer it by virtue of structure. But what has been releases is foundational. The writing is of such quality and battle scenarios increasingly playful that everyone should be taking notes. A core component of Shadowbringers success is how deeply the story is concerned with genuinely exploring the richness of the scenario. It would be easy to craft a story about evil mages destroying the world. FFXIV’s done the more straightforward version of that at launch and it proved stiff. Instead, Shadowbringers’ has a deep concern with motivations and takes unprecedented time to explore the interior of the cast. This allows old characters to grow into bright new versions of themselves, and it has (two for two now!) turned villains into more than just monsters. The writing exhibits a delicious empathy for the world, and it takes time to give everyone a perspective. In MMOs, this is not always afforded. Characters act as quest-barkers and clumsy plot chess pieces. Shadowbringers strength rests in avoiding this in favor of clear stakes both personal and cosmic.  There’s plenty to be said for other aspects. Masayoshi Soken’s music remains an incredibly powerful trump card, and the latest patch (which concludes the Shadowbringers story and sets up for next expansion) shows an increased willingness to employ fight mechanics that trick and test players in new ways. The content is challenging and full of tiny subversive moments that actually rob players of power they’ve taken for granted over the course of hundreds of hours. In finding its stride, Final Fantasy XIV doesn’t just craft sweeping narrative moments, it better integrates those stakes into individual boss encounters. There’s a cohesiveness, an interlocking of parts where each piece (music, narrative, gameplay, et all) are in clear conversation with the other and often in conversation with not only other expansions but other games within the franchise. 

Recently, a piece dropped on Polygon with the title “Games need to return to black-and-white morality.” It was, if I can be honest, a poor title for the article and one which left a freelancer unduly exposed to harsh feedback. But there is a core kernel to the article. To quote the writer: “Watching our heroes stick to their convictions, even against insurmountable odds, ratchets up drama, rather than destroying it. The concept that good can ultimately triumph over evil is a timeless one, and stories that rally around this trope — around unadulterated hope — can help guide us through the year’s ceaseless onslaught of calamities.“ Shadowbringers’s conclusion brought this piece of writing to mind. I’m ironing pretty much all of that piece’s argumentation but the notion that games about heroes have great efficacy in times of uncertainty shouldn’t be a controversial one. The crux of my favorite game, Skies of Arcadia, is that heroism is hardly a choice at all. It is a compulsion, it is a duty that we all must accept when the moment comes. Shadowbringers is not quite as simple but it is ultimately a story about hero defeating the baddies, and I would be lying deeply to say that there wasn’t something incredibly, nearly word-defyingly beautiful about the feeling of hope I felt in its concluding moments. The sweeping power of epic fantasy and heroism holds true and, like a genuine panacea, held a curative power for my soul that was not just enjoyable once consumed but frankly necessary for my well-being.  I’ve no clean conclusion here (and I don’t have to! ha!) other than to say that Shadowbringers has consistently proven a delight in a sea of rocky games media. It is affirming, exciting, and empathetic in ways that I was not expecting. That, along with the friendships I’ve made while playing, have secured its place as one of my favorite video game experiences ever. From start to finish, it really was a delight. 

------------------ And that’s that! I was gonna write about Blaseball but I need to let my Blaseball feelings settle before even trying that. Anyway, if you read this.. uh thanks!

#FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #Shadowbringers #The Last of Us Part II #Necrobarista #Ghost of Tsushima #aim lab

[thelastofgala]

Is it just me or is it way more nerve wracking / scary to fight the human enemies vs the infected in TLOU? 😱

Yes, I agree 100%! The infected don’t scare me nearly as much as the humans, other than in the truly chaotic battles where they tend to attack in hoards and I die a lot lol. I really hate those battles. Like I died during that factory fight with David probably twenty times the other night :|

I was actually just thinking about this the other day though, and I’m sorry this got kind of long but oh well. I think ND was purposeful in this, and it will be even more exaggerated in the sequel. Humans are by far the more formidable opponent, because they are intelligent, have a variety of weapons, and they learn from their circumstances. Meanwhile, the infected are more predictable. The stalkers are the scariest, if you ask me, because they’re really the only ones you can’t effectively sneak up on or range. They’re too fast and sneaky. Even still, they are easy to lure to you, even if it’s scary. They do not think for themselves and run on instinct alone.

I think this just furthers the theme that mother nature may be in charge here, but we are essentially our own worst enemy. Mother nature is unforgiving, but she is also pure and does not harbor selfish motives. Meanwhile, humans do. I think David is the most frightening villain in the game, even as he’s just one man. Part of why he is so scary is because he is a psychopath, highly intelligent, and duplicitous. His onslaughts are psychological in addition to physical, and his motives, while definitely dark, are unclear. This makes him hard to predict, because one moment, he is lilting Ellie into a false sense of security with promises and his charm, defending her in a fight, but the moment she proves too difficult for him to control, he lashes out. It’s terrifying??

Also, I know we don’t like to think of Joel as a villain, but he is himself one of the most terrifying humans in the game. He is not a psychopath. His actions make sense, and he displays targeted moral choices, which closely follow his loyalties. But the torture scene in the Winter chapter shows what he is capable of in his darkest hour. Joel is such an interesting character in this series, because he is not a hero. He is merely an unrivaled survivor. He is endlessly resourceful, strong, and smart without being calculating. Unlike Marlene, who is also formidable, or even Tess, Joel has no personal ambitions. He merely survives to protect those he loves with a bleak ferocity. Nobody is going to take the thing he loves from him ever again, and that is a very scary motive indeed.

#the last of us #tlou #elliesgun