#a lot of these pins were on my backpack when I was still in school and have since retired to the laptop bag

[skypiea]

I do love this old bag I use to transport my laptop. Must have had it since I was 14 or younger. Pins just gradually get added to it

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Epilogue

Summary: Joel had always been the one. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: None! Enjoy whatever comes! A/N: So, here we are at last. The final goodbye to one of my favorite pairings :') It is so bittersweet to end their story, but I am so thankful you all have supported it and loved it along the way! Tommy & Beth's story will be coming soon, so I hope you guys stick around for it! All my love, xoxo <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

“Sarah!” You called from downstairs. “We need to leave soon so we aren’t late!”

“Coming!” She shouted back.

You could hear her footsteps shuffling across the loft, no doubt in a rush trying to find her backpack. It was the first day of school, and you were the brand new eighth-grade teacher—totally not because you wanted to keep teaching Sarah before high school. 

The three of you had spent the summer in a whirlwind, between camping trips and helping Joel work on a business plan for his own job. You even took a small trip to Boston to see your family; you needed to get the closure you deserved finally. But you couldn’t think about that trip now; you needed Sarah to hurry up.

“Joel,” you grumbled. “Can you please get her down here?”

Joel was leaning against the kitchen counter, his coffee mug half-full and lifted to his lips. He rolled his eyes at you, his lips curling into a soft smile. 

“I got it, baby. Go get your ass in the car, and I’ll make sure she has everythin’ together.”

You gave him a quick peck on the lips before slinging your bag over your shoulder. A large hand closed over your bicep, and Joel yanked you back into his broad frame. 

“No y’don’t. Give me a real kiss,” he chuckled.

He pressed a hand into your lower back, holding you firm to his chest as he bent down to kiss you. You deepened the kiss, your tongue overlapping his with a soft whimper off your lips. Joel swallowed every noise and pressed you against his lips for as long as he could.

“Grossssss,” Sarah groaned, startling you both.

You jumped back from Joel’s embrace, staring at Sarah with an embarrassed smile. 

“Can you guys not do that? At least wait for the wedding.”

Joel barked a laugh, kissing your cheek with wet lips before pushing you out of the kitchen. 

“I can kiss my future wife all I want, sweetheart,” he protested. 

Future wife. 

You loved it when he said that. You loved it even more when he was pinning you to the bed and whispering it in your ear as he fucked you. Lazy strokes and sweet words… The thought alone had you clenching your thighs beneath your skirt. 

Joel didn’t waste a moment proposing after you moved in. He and Tommy had snuck away one Saturday to a jewelry store to find the perfect ring, and he proposed that night. The tiny diamond sat snug on your finger, the gold band reflecting the sunlight every time you admired it—which you did a lot.

You and Joel were still working through the mess created after your accident, but there was no question that you’d marry him. At least you knew he wouldn’t run from the wedding; the thought of it happening kept you up some nights. 

Both you and Sarah arrived at the school with only ten minutes to spare. She’d be in your final class for the day, so you parted ways and made your way to your new classroom. Joel had helped you set up your room over the last week, hanging the posters you couldn’t reach and remaining adamant about keeping you from any possible chance of falling. God forbid you hit your head again; it wasn’t something you liked to think of often. 

Walking into the classroom, you quickly set up your lesson plans and placed worksheets on each desk. The first week of school would be the easiest for you and the students. A slight tap on the door jolted you from rushing around, and you looked up to see Maria sheepishly standing in the doorway.

“Welcome back,” she said. 

Neither of you had spoken since the end of the year, and you still weren’t sure what to say. Joel had explained to you that Maria wasn’t entirely at fault for anything; she only meant to care for you and keep you company throughout the years between. At the start of last year, he mentioned that he considered going after you, which was why Maria was always so pushy about talking to Joel. And she had, in fact, been the mastermind behind ‘Happy Hour’ when Joel showed up. 

You couldn’t stay mad forever, even if sometimes you desperately wanted to. Anger was all you had known for months, and you worked hard to replace it and battle through it as the summer went on. But right now, you could put that aside and at least be cordial with Maria. 

“Thank you, Maria.” You gave her a tentative smile. 

“Can I come in? I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you before the day started, and I was hoping we could chat.”

You nodded, motioning to one of the desks. Maria entered the room and leaned against the edge of the desk, waiting for you to settle into your chair. You tried ignoring the emails that continued to chime on your computer, attempting to give her your full attention, which she deserved. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I had no intention of lying to you, but I only wanted to see you happy. After the accident, it was so hard for me to lose you in the way I did. Giving you a place to live after your breakup with Bennett and seeing you meet Joel… Then nothing. I cared for you like a daughter and wanted to continue being there for you.”

“I know you did,” you sighed. “It’s been hard having to adjust after regaining my memory, and it’s taking a lot out of me to try to work through it all. I hope you know I appreciate all the care you’ve shown me. Before the accident and after. I just needed time to process it all.”

“If you ever need anything, sweetie, you know I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

You reached your arms to hug her, and Maria took the opportunity without question. Her warm embrace was enough to bring you to tears; you did miss her—a lot. Pulling away, you lifted your hand a little to show off the sparkle on your ring finger. 

“Oh my gosh!” she squealed, grabbing your hand.

You laughed at her excitement and allowed her to admire the ring on your finger.

“The wedding is next month,” you told her. “Joel and I would love for you to come if you would like.”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I want to come!”

She pulled you in for another tight hug, muttering a litany of ‘thank you’s.’ Eventually, the school bell rang, she ran out of the room, and you settled back at your desk for the beginning of the day. 

Not even two minutes after the final bell rang, Sarah was barreling into your classroom with a big smile. You had just seen her in the third hour during her own class, but her excitement never failed to make your heart swell with happiness. 

“Ready to go home, kiddo?” You chuckled.

“So ready! I think Dad is cooking us dinner, and I’m starving.”

You ruffled her curls softly before tucking her under your arm and leaving the classroom. The person you were last year—before remembering everything—would have never allowed this to happen. Dating your student’s father was out of line and, quite frankly, not your forte, but this was an exception. A very necessary exception. 

As you pulled out of the parking lot, you heard your phone ringing in your purse. Sarah was quick to retrieve it, staring confused at the caller ID. 

“Who is it?” You asked, glancing away from the road.

“Aunt Beth.”

Shit.

Things hadn’t been great between you two since the trip back to Boston over the summer, but it was better. If you sat in silence long enough, the bitterness and anger returned in full force. Joel was your voice of reason, calming you down from the resurgence of emotions and always quickly reminding you of Beth's work to fix the relationship. You only hoped they weren’t empty promises and she would prove herself to be who she was before the accident.

“Here, let me see it,” you said, extending your hand.

Pressing answer, you held the phone to your ear and hoped Sarah didn’t see the trembling in your fingertips.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, sis,” Beth said. It was easy to hear the frustration in her greeting.

“Everything okay?” You asked. 

You came to a slow roll at the red light in front of you, relaxing your white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Sarah rubbed an assuring hand over your arm, and you turned to give her a sad smile. She was like her father, so receptive and aware of your emotions.

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t know, I just… Do you want me there? Are you sure?”

“At my wedding?” You questioned. “I already told you I wanted you there. I extended the invite to the entire family, including you.”

“I know, but being your bridesmaid feels wrong.”

A car horn blared behind you, and your eyes snapped up to see the green light staring down at you. You inhaled sharply and pressed the gas. 

“Joel and I already talked about it, and we both agree not having you there would be something I might regret one day. I want you and Stell both up there with me.”

“You’re sure?” She asked, her voice cracking.

“Yes, Beth. I’m sure. Now, are you flying out on the day of the reception or the day before? I just need to make sure your hotel room is booked and set up before you get here.”

“I’ll fly in the day before with Stell. I think Mom and Dad are coming the day after.”

“Okay, good. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of. Just please promise me you’ll be there.”

“I promise, sis,” she sighed.

You rounded the corner into the neighborhood and pulled up to the house. Joel’s truck was already parked in the driveway, his truck bed overflowing with work tools and wooden planks. You nodded at Sarah to head in while you finished the phone call—you needed a moment alone before going inside. 

“I just got home, Beth, so I’ve got to run. I’ll send you the information for the hotel and everything, okay?”

“Wait, before you go,” Beth hesitated. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m still really sorry,” she admitted. “About everything.”

You scrubbed a hand down your face, holding back a wave of tears that threatened to break your composure. Beth wasn’t one to show her emotions or speak them this freely. Her vulnerability was something you were still adjusting to, among everything else. 

“I know you are, sis,” you exhaled. 

“I’ll, um, I’ll let you go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

You didn’t get the chance to say goodbye before the phone line went dead.  Resting your head against the steering wheel, you let the tears run down your face. It was hard to control your emotions these days, and today was no different. Between seeing Maria and talking to Beth, you were exhausted. The wedding planning hadn’t been stressful until now, but knowing Beth was having second thoughts about even coming? The stress was starting to creep in.

A light tap on the window jolted you from your tearful silence. You turned your head to see Joel standing outside the door, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Seeing him was the final nail in the coffin, and you lost it completely. He was quick to yank the door open and wrap his arms around your limp body. 

“Sarah told me Beth called,” he confessed. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this isn’t easy.”

You clung to his shirt, nestling your head into his neck. The work day still lingered on his skin, the smell of fresh wood and sweat flooding your senses. He smelled like home. 

“Am I making the wrong decision?” You choked out. 

Joel’s grip tightened around you, his sturdy frame grounding your emotions to cascade into. You fell victim to your cries, your tears dampening the cotton tee he wore. 

“You’re makin’ the mature decision, baby,” he stated. “It took a lot for you even to see them this summer, but the wedding will fly by, and this can all be put behind us.”

“I just don’t want to be let down again,” you cried. 

“No one's gonna let you down. I’ll make sure of it, ‘kay?”

You peeled yourself away from him, wiping away the tears that trailed down your cheeks. Joel’s brown eyes softened as he took in your fragile state, his lips turning down. Cradling your head in his hands, Joel brought your forehead to his lips for a comforting kiss.

“Hey, I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Y’know how I feel ‘bout you sayin’ that, baby,” Joel grinned.

The slight shift in the color of his eyes was warning enough to make your emotions skyrocket in a different way. You gave him a shy smile before pecking him on the lips and jumping out of the car. Joel quickly wound an arm around your front and hauled you back to him.

“You’re lucky we got dinner on the table,” he whispered in your ear. “Punishment’s gonna have to wait ‘til later.”

“Punishment?” You echoed.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, dragging his mouth over the shell of your ear.

You shivered at the touch, your body molding against his. Leave it to Joel to always turn your mood around; it’s what you loved about him. The worst days could be changed in minutes, and you weren’t afraid to be vulnerable with him. You also weren’t afraid to rile him up, too.

Shifting your body slightly, you brushed your ass against the crotch of his jeans, rewarding yourself with the hardening bulge of his cock. Joel groaned at the brief touch, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” you giggled.

 You repeated the motion, Joel’s body tensing behind you.

“Oh gosh,” you feigned distressed. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re gonna regret that, baby,” Joel growled. 

With a sharp smack on your ass, Joel urged you toward the front door—not before readjusting himself several times before entering the kitchen. 

Sarah had long gone to bed by the time you and Joel retired to your room. You took time showering and readying for bed while Joel sprawled against the sheets. Peeking around the corner, you caught a glimpse of his body, nearly naked, except for a pair of black boxers. It still didn’t feel real that you had found your way back to him, and it especially didn’t feel real that you’d be marrying him in less than a month. 

“I know you’re starin’ at me over there,” Joel chuckled.

You emerged from behind the door, a grin on your face. Joel propped himself against the headboard, his hands locked behind his head and his biceps flexing slightly. 

“Obviously,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m allowed to admire my handsome future husband.”

“Get your ass up here, baby.”

You happily obliged and jumped onto the bed, straddling his waist as you bent down to kiss him. Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he deepened the kiss, his hand carding through your hair to anchor you closer. 

“If I’m not mistaken,” he muttered between kisses. “Y’said somethin’ earlier that you shouldn’t have.”

You trailed your lips down his neck, humming softly with each press of your lips.

“I did?” You teased.

“Three times,” Joel groaned. 

His fingers laced tightly between the tendrils of your hair, pulling your head up until there was nowhere to look but into his dark eyes. The swell of his pupils had replaced the soft amber colors of his irises, a mischievous look flashing across his face. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, baby. You’re gonna slide that beautiful body up here and ride my tongue ‘til you cum three times.”

“Three?” You repeated, your eyes growing wide.

Joel huffed a laugh and hooked his arms under your thighs. You fell forward, your hands bracing onto the headboard. Joel lucked out with you already being bare under your t-shirt; it was easy work for him, especially when you were already drenched with arousal. A small swipe of his nose over your throbbing clit was enough to elicit a soft moan from your mouth. 

“Bite your lip and stay quiet for me, baby,” Joel mumbled. “Can’t wake up Sarah with all your noise.”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

Joel flattened his tongue against your entrance and licked a long, slow stripe through your wet folds. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as he had instructed, you bit back a desperate whine that threatened to escape. You rolled your hips slightly, the pointed tip of his tongue dragging over your aching bud softly. The fire crept through your veins, catapulting you closer to the edge as Joel’s jaw worked relentlessly at your leaking entrance. 

“Joel,” you whispered, a faint whimper leaving your lips.

“Shh,” he hummed.

The low vibration of his hush radiated through your pulsating clit, forcing you to jerk away from his mouth. His calloused fingers dug further into the skin of your thighs, anchoring you down onto his face. His tongue worked faster at your clit, stroking it with tantalizing flicks of his tongue. Flames burst through your stomach with each move of his mouth, your thighs quaking in his grip. So close… you were so close. Joel felt it, too, and latched his mouth around the sensitive bud.

“Joel!” You cried, the orgasm barreling through your body. 

He didn’t let up, his tongue dipping into your entrance and lapping at the juices leaking from you. Your hand shot to the curls at the crown of his head, tugging him off of your sex, your body still twitching from the aftershocks of your climax. 

“That was only one, baby,” Joel muttered into the flesh of your inner thigh. 

He pressed wet kisses against your skin, working his way back to your center with small kitten licks over every inch of you. Your thighs clenched around his face, framing him perfectly between your legs. You glanced at him only to find his dark eyes staring at you. The air knocked out of your lungs, seeing him under you in such blissed-out beauty. Joel shifted his face up, revealing his arousal-coated mustache and wet plush lips. 

“Y’gonna give me two more?” He asked, his mouth curving into a grin. 

You nodded vigorously, guiding him back to your swollen bud. Joel rested his tongue over your center, nudging you silently with a slight tilt of his head. Dragging your hips forward, you lowered yourself onto his open mouth. Back and forth, you moved against his tongue, tremors wracking through your limbs with each pass. 

“Joel! I’m gonna—.” You choked on your words. 

With one hand grasped on the headboard and the other tangled in his sweat-soaked curls, you bore down and let your second orgasm surge through your body. Biting your lip did little to help the cry of pleasure that escaped your mouth. You lifted yourself from his face, attempting to unlatch yourself from his tight grip. 

“Nuh uh, baby,” Joel protested, his voice husky. “One more.”

“I can’t,” you whined.

You stumbled over his body, collapsing into the bed beside him. Joel rolled over you, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. The lower half of his face was coated in your arousal, his chin and beard glistening in the dim lights of the bedroom. You wound your arms around his neck, pulling him to your lips. The sweet smell of your arousal hit your nose as his mouth collided with yours. Joel groaned against your lips, coaxing your mouth open wider. You tilted your head to give him better access, your tongues dancing in unison in a heated kiss. 

You felt Joel’s hand slide between your bodies, his body shifting slightly as he pushed down the boxers from his waist. The weight of his heavy cock rested on your thigh, and you hooked your leg higher to give him access to your dripping sex. 

“Got one more in you, baby?” Joel asked, his mouth roaming down your neck. 

“I think so,” you said, your voice shaky. 

Joel suctioned his lips to the hollow of your neck, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You gasped at the intrusion, your body adjusting to the girth of his cock as he split you open. Joel carded a hand through your hair and glued his eyes to yours as he thrusted into you slowly. Your bodies moved in a simple rhythm; when he drove into you, you careened back. Soft cries and heavy grunts, each of you flowing in perfect harmony. 

“So fuckin’ perfect,” Joel whispered.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you panted.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the swell of release at your fingertips as Joel speared into you deeper with each cadence of his hips. You were overstimulated and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but you wanted to come undone with him. You wanted to fall over the edge together; you wanted this moment to be something you shared. Lifting your mouth to his ear, you whined softly, garnering a low growl from his chest. 

“I love you.”

Three simple words. It was enough to send Joel over the edge, his body tensing above you as he drove into you one last time. Your sex clenched around his cock, milking him through his release. His cock dragged against the aching walls of your sex as he pulled out, his body resting heavily on top of yours. With his head pressed to your heaving chest, you ran your fingers through the dark curls resting at the base of his neck. 

“You tired?” You laughed softly, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Joel argued.

“Get some sleep, handsome. I love you.”

“I love you so much, baby.”

He nuzzled further into your embrace, a soft yawn exhaling from his mouth. You smiled to yourself, reveling in the fact that this was your life. Here, at this moment, everything you had endured was worth it. It was worth it knowing someone inexplicably loved you. Someone who wasn’t going to leave, no matter how hard things may be. Joel fought tooth and nail to have you back, and you learned to forgive his faults. His patience and unwavering love were enough to battle any doubts that lingered in your mind.

He was yours, just as much as you were his. 

**

Outside your bridal suite, storm clouds swirled in the sky. You had watched the news channel praying for a sunny wedding day all week, but the Texas weather laughed at your pleas. The thunderstorm looming in the distance was only the tip of the iceberg in your ever-growing levels of anxiety.

“Sis, it’s gonna be okay,” Beth urged. 

Beth and Stella were the only ones in the room with you, and they both sat at the edge of the bed, watching you helplessly pace the floor. You itched to undo the tight bun your hair had been wrangled into, the pain of each bobby pin shooting another jolt of pain into the onset headache forming in your head. 

“What if he doesn’t show? What if Joel doesn’t want this? What if—?”

“Oh my God, stop!” 

It wasn’t Beth that cut off your rambling, but Stella. She wasn’t one to raise her voice often, but it was enough to halt your frantic thoughts. You threw yourself onto the chair in the corner of the room, letting out an exasperated sigh. Stella rose from the bed, carefully sidestepping the hem of her silk bridesmaid dress as she waltzed to where you sat. She lowered herself to her knees and stared up at you with pleading eyes. 

“Joel loves you, sis,” she stressed. “He’s not going to leave you. All of these pre-ceremony jitters will go away the second you walk down that aisle.”

“But—.”

She held up her hand in protest, shaking her head sternly. 

“No more of that. You are going to put on your dress and get ready.”

You glanced at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the door. The white fabric was a haunting reminder of the rain-soaked dress you had worn only years ago, dirtied by the mud and broken hopes left in Bennett’s wake. You chewed at your lip to stifle back a cry, your brain ready to disintegrate with all the pressure building inside your head. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, the admission frightening you. 

Beth groaned, leaving the bed to join Stella on the ground. You had spoken little since she came into town, sharing only a few shallow words in passing when necessary. But the seriousness in her eye ignited a new wave of fear; her words could slice you clean through if you let it. Saying your name softly, Beth clasped a hand around yours and inhaled a sharp breath. 

“You can do this, and you will. I know you’re scared, but Joel is waiting for you. He’s been waiting for you for years, and he’s not going anywhere. Trust me when I tell you no one in this world loves you more than he does, okay?”

A tear slipped down your cheek at Beth’s words. The way she spoke of Joel was night and day from how she spoke of Bennett. Her words regarding Bennett had been laced with venom strong enough to poison even your happiest memories—whatever those had been. They were fighting words, and each punch was perfectly placed. With Joel, she only spoke with sincerity. Both she and Stella had been there to see Joel at his worst after the accident, watching the life he had made with you crumble away within the hospital. They had been there to experience his grief firsthand, and that was something you could never argue. Joel held a special place in both of their hearts, a bond you couldn’t remember but couldn’t deny. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, burying your head in your hands. You threw caution to the wind when it came to ruining your makeup. It was a lost cause at this point. 

“Hey, come here,” Beth whispered. 

She hauled you into her arms, wrapping herself around you. Stella followed her lead, both huddling around you as you cried quietly. Time had stolen so much from you, time you couldn’t get back with your sisters. Putting everything aside, you sat in the moment with them and let their strength hold you up. 

“Okay, okay,” you sighed, peeling yourself away. “Can you both help me get into my dress?”

Stella squealed excitedly, hauling herself up and hurtling toward the door where it hung. Beth gave you one final squeeze and a quiet “I love you” before joining Stella. 

You discarded your robe on the bed and stood awkwardly before them in your bridal lingerie. Both of them whistled at you provocatively, their eyes growing wide. You blushed at their giddiness, motioning for them to bring the dress to you. The three of you worked silently as you slipped into the tulle fabric. Beth worked at zipping up the back while Stella secured the gossamer sleeves over your shoulders. The fabric was cool against your skin, a welcome reprieve from the warm anxiety that simmered below the surface. You were ready after a few final touches on your makeup and the clasping of your heels. 

“Breathe, peanut,” your dad whispered in your ear. 

The bouquet in your hand was shaking from the trembling in your fingers. You stared through the glass door into the open courtyard where everyone sat, the sky darkening by the minute. In the distance, you could spot Joel's outline as he stood under the floral arch above the altar. He was right there…waiting. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” the wedding planner said, grasping the door handle before you. 

You turned your head to look at your dad, his features soft and emotional. If he cried, you’d soon follow, and you couldn’t ruin your makeup again. You squeezed his arm and nodded to the wedding planner. 

“I’m ready,” you whispered. 

With a gentle push of the door, you stepped over the threshold and into the humid air of the early evening. The soft crescendo of the Wedding March began to drift through the open space, and your friends and family all turned to stand. Your eyes shifted side to side, looking down each row at the warm smiles in your direction. Maybe if you didn’t look down the aisle, the fear of Joel running away wouldn’t come true. Look anywhere else. Your steps faltered, and you felt a wave of anxiety assault your nerves. 

“He’s waiting for you,” your dad mumbled. “Look up.”

You lifted your head and found Joel watching you with the brightest smile. His hair was tamed and slicked down with gel, and his beard was trimmed short—but still patchy in small areas along his jaw. His broad frame stretched out the black suit that was tailored perfectly to his body, and something about the refined look on him made your heart leap. If you weren’t already breathless, seeing his eyes stole any air left in your lungs.  Joel’s brown eyes sparkled with fresh tears under the gray skies. Not even the darkest storm clouds could darken the amber flecks glimmering in his irises. 

As you neared the altar, you also realized his hands were trembling. His fingers fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt, and his body shifted from side to side as he waited for you. The music drifted to a close as you finally approached the altar, just inches from Joel. He didn’t run. He was standing right there. 

You turned to your dad, giving him a tearful hug and a quiet thank you. Joel stepped forward to give your dad a firm handshake, a warm smile gracing his face. As they said their final words to one another, you handed off your bouquet to Beth, who stood behind you, along with Stella and Sarah. Sarah’s cheeks were damp with tears as she grinned at you brightly, her skin radiant in her green dress. You blew her a kiss and turned back to Joel. 

“Y’look so fuckin’ beautiful,” he exhaled, wiping a tear from his face. 

“And you look extra handsome,” you grinned.

Joel chuckled, clasping his hands around yours. Your fingers squeezed around his knuckles, and your thumb rubbed soothing circles over the rough skin of his hand. The officiant beside you cleared his throat, and you and Joel turned your attention to him. 

“Family and friends,” he began. “Thank you all for joining us today for this wonderful union of love.”

The officiant's words faded into the background as you stared up at Joel, capturing this moment in your memory. Years of loss, pain, and grief all led you to this moment—right here. With Joel’s hands wrapped around yours and his loving smile shining down on you, it was all worth it. 

“I understand that you both have written your own vows,” the officiant said, interrupting the flood of emotions inside you.

Beth tapped you on your shoulder, handing you the small paper you had scribbled your vows onto that morning. 

“Okay,” you sighed. You smoothed out the paper in your hand, your eyes hardly focusing on the words before you. 

You opened your mouth to speak but paused as the first drop of rain splattered across the ink. A laugh bubbled out of you as you tilted your head up toward the sky. Rain misted your face, the slow sprinkle of rain dampening the ground around you. 

“Would y’look at that,” Joel laughed. “It’s rainin’ on us, baby. I think that means it’s good luck, right?”

You beamed at him, watching the raindrops catch onto his thick eyelashes. Crumpling the paper in your hand, you let it fall to the ground and composed yourself. Joel lifted his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Joel Miller,” you started. “I can say, without a doubt, I was always meant to be with you. From the moment I ran into you, literally—.” You laughed at yourself. “I knew it would always be you. Even when time and differences separated us, a part of me knew I was missing something. You and Sarah were the missing pieces that made me whole. And I’m so thankful that the universe conspired to bring us back together and lead me home. I vow to you, Joel, that every day will be filled with memories we remember.

 I vow always to make you smile. I vow to always annoy you with my late-night conversations about books and poetry nonsense you most definitely have no interest in. I promise to stand beside you on the soccer fields, cheering on our girl through every win and loss. I vow to you, Joel Miller, to never leave and to always work through the hardest obstacles. Together.” 

“I love you so much,” Joel whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

You lifted a finger to wipe them away, your hand resting against his cheek. Joel sniffled back more cries, shaking out the rain clinging to his hair. 

“Alright, guess I gotta try and beat that now,” Joel joked. 

He crumpled his vows, the paper floating onto the wet ground where they melted into the rainfall. Joel barely managed to choke out your name before succumbing to tears all over again. 

“Man, this is hard,” he huffed. “I ain’t sure how y’did all that without losin’ it, baby.”

“You’ll be just fine, Joel. I’m right here,” you assured. 

He spoke your name again, this time only faltering at the end. You gave him an encouraging smile, your hand still caressing his face. 

“I can’t tell you enough how lucky I am that you’re in my life,” Joel began. “I ain’t ever felt a love like this, and I ain’t ever wanna lose it. I’m not a many of many words, at least not where it counts, but havin’ you by my side makes every single day brighter. There ain’t no better happiness than seein’ your smile every day or seein’ you be the mother to Sarah that she always deserved. 

Y’make me the proudest man alive, and I vow always to love you and care for you in every single way. I promise to read all the books y’read. I vow to remind you which cereal we buy at the grocery. I vow to stay truthful and always love you no matter how hard things may get. It’s you and me, baby. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You got me ‘til I stop breathin’.”

You were the one crying the hardest now—a vow of all vows, spoken upon the altar that had always haunted you. One thing remained true in the weariness and uncertainty of the last several years: Joel was your steadfast. He was the constant that worked against the odds and continued to fight for a love you had since forgotten. Through the heartbreak, grief, and endless nights alone, you now had the one man the universe had created just for you. 

I love you, you mouthed. You couldn’t trust yourself not to entirely wither into a heap of sobs as his vows sunk further into your heart. 

“Now, if we may have the rings,” the officiant urged.

Tommy handed the ring to Joel while Sarah stepped forward to give you the wedding band you both had picked for her dad. 

“Thank you, kiddo,” you whispered, bending down to hug her. 

You and Joel repeated each word the officiant said, slipping the wedding bands onto each other's ring fingers. The rain was coming down harder now, pelting your face in wet splashes and rolling down your bare neck. Joel’s suit was soaked through, yet he didn’t care. Neither of you could stop smiling. 

“With the power invested in me and the state of Texas, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Miller! You may now kiss your bride.”

“About damn time,” Joel snorted. 

His hands swept under your shoulder blades, dipping you low as he bent to kiss you. The moment his wet lips touched yours, everything became a reality. Joel was your husband. You molded your body into his embrace, your arms winding around his neck. He kissed you recklessly as if no one else around you existed. And truthfully, the world could have collapsed around you, and you would never have known it. You wanted to remain in his arms for eternity. 

This was your home. He was your everything. 

The reception had drawn into the late hours of the night, and the buzz of a few drinks had your body relaxed and at ease. Whatever stress you had before the ceremony it had long since vanished, swept away with the rain as it continued to pour from the sky. The train of your dress was stained brown from the mud, yet you didn’t care. It was a memory of the day, and you wanted to keep it with you forever. 

“One last dance?” Joel asked, extending a hand to you.

You rose from your seat, placing your hand in his. Somewhere during the night, Joel had discarded his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Seeing him this dressed up was far more dangerous than you expected; you craved to undo every button traveling down his torso and strip his tailored pants right from his muscular legs. But those tempting thoughts would have to wait till later. 

Half the attendees had left for the night, leaving only your family members and a few friends still scattered around the ballroom. As Joel swayed your bodies to the music, you caught wind of an argument drifting through the music. Turning your head over your shoulder, you watched Beth and Tommy go toe to toe in a standoff. 

“Do you think we should go calm them down?” You asked. 

Joel glanced towards his brother and shrugged.

“M’sure they’ll sort their shit out, baby. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me from enjoyin’ this night with you.”

“You’ve seen Beth when she’s angry,” you reminded him. 

“And y’know how grumpy Tommy can get,” Joel countered. “They can handle themselves.”

You both moved to the music in silence; your eyes settled on one another as you spun in slow circles. Joel hooked a hand under your knee and dipped you, only to pull you up just as quickly to crush his lips to yours. 

“When can I take y’home?” He muttered between kisses. “I’ve been dyin’ to take that dress off of you all night.”

“As soon as this song ends, I’m all yours,” you smiled. 

Joel’s brown eyes darkened under the twinkling lights, and dimples appeared on his cheeks as he grinned at you. 

“Baby, you’ve been mine from the start.”

[skythealmighty]

This is Melvin Sneedly. He's the kid with the fluffed up hair and the bowtie; remember that now!

So. Um. I'd like to offer my own AU to the table! It's called Pranksterswap, and how it works is Melvin swaps role with both George and Harold. At once! They don't swap personality, though, that stays the same. (ALSO, THIS AU FOLLOWS A MISHMASH OF THE BOOK AND SHOW, NOT THE MOVIE.)

Let's start by analyzing our main G&H, shall we?

WARNING: LONG POST. SORRY.

George Beard and Harold Hutchins

They still write comics as Tree House Comix! In fact, they even have matching button pins- courtesy of Harold's mom, who I like to imagine is a bit of a craftswoman. There's one key difference though- they started comics in first grade, not kindergarten.

George is still our loveable dumb humored writer, he's just a little less rough and tumble than before and a bit more cautious (Harold played a big influence on that). He wears pants now! And a backpack all the time for his notebooks.

Harold played a lot more influence in the early days, leading them both to be a lot less jump-into-danger-at-first-sight. Sometime after they start making comics, he gets the idea of art school from his mom (who went to art school), so they both plan out to go to art school so they can make comics forever.

They're... mostly model students. They both have ADHD, but only George is medicated, so Harold tends to unknowingly space out. (George has the Hyperactive type, Harold has the Inattentive type.) Really, the only rules they break are "doodling in class" and "selling comics on the playground", so they don't see the principal often.

This doesn't mean they don't get prank ideas; they do, but when they get them they usually hand them off to...

Melvin Sneedly

Melvin is... still Melvin, mostly, with a different progresssion. Especially in kindergarten, he very much felt unchallenged and bored, but without G&H causing mass mayhem, he didn't turn to tattling- instead he turned to online classes, and then to studying his classmates like a lab experiment.

Potty humor and childish jokes eventually became what he tried to figure out, mostly by nature of him growing up with more "sophisticated" humor. Though he didn't end up completely getting it, he did end up appreciating some of the wordplay and figuring out the "formula" so he could join in.

Though he still didn't quite "get" it, seeing other kids laugh at his jokes was a point of pride and made him happy. Thus begins his more juvenile sense of humor.

By the time George and Harold started selling their comics, he was studying other possible ways to make his fellow students laugh, and also keeping tabs on what his classmates did for fun. Naturally, he bought a pretty early copy, just about when he found out about "pranks", and well, things were pretty much set in motion.

Using the first Tree House Comix as a guide, he did his first prank on his first grade teacher, and burst out laughing at her reaction, something finally clicking for his sense of humor.

The rest is history, really, though a lot of his pranks quickly became much more complicated after that, mostly to test his inventions and intellect. A lot of them were inspired by Tree House Comix, of which he was now an avid reader- which, of course, eventually ended up in...

Captain Underpants!

Melvin makes an off-hand joke while trying to get out of weekend detention (he has the Invention Convention that weekend, where he can proudly share off his prank inventions! Come on!), and it accidentally turns Krupp into the Captain, which as we all know makes things so much more complicated.

Unlike G&H, Melvin does realize the weight of what he's done pretty well, and is frankly kind of horrified about it. As a result, he treats Captain a lot more genuinely than canon G&H do, and ends up in the fray alongside him more often than not using technology to make up for his lack of superpowers.

The books/show end up leaning far more towards edutainment just by nature of the main characters- Captain is kind of clueless, and Melvin likes sharing knowledge. As a result, Captain here is a bit more knowledgeable, though he does tend to retain all-over-the-place fun facts more than other things.

Melvin also has generally no qualms about Krupp finding out, but he's also spent so long anxiously agonizing over the scenarios of what would happen so he's still dreading it. Captain seems mostly oblivious to this.

So... yeah that's... about it! Sort of. There's a lot more that I haven't touched on, but this post is LONG as is. Colored versions of the drawings might come eventually! ...Eventually.

Oh yeah and feel free to send me asks if you have any questions!

[demigodsanswer]

Can I request:

Percabeth fluff/Angst: College Au, Guitarist Percy, Cheerlead Captain Annabeth, Happy ending, Strangers to Lovers

Percy and Annabeth are strangers who suddenly met when they found their longtime partner cheating on them. Trying to heal, they seek each other for help, and during the time they spend together they start to gain feelings for each other and create a special bond.

(playing with canon ages a bit to make everyone within a year of each other. The dialogue for this one came a lot easier than the general setting. Jason and Nico are on their worst behavior, and Annabeth and Percy and 1) bisexual 2) doing their best. I don't think this was exactly what you imagined, but it's what I came up with)

The sorority party was definitely not Percy's scene. There was plenty of beer, but he didn't really like beer. He didn't really like drunk people either. And he really, really didn't like catching his boyfriend in bed with the school's football star.

He'd gone towards the bedroom when he'd heard a girl say, "Have you lost your mind?" Worried some frat bro was committing a crime. Instead, he found the cute blonde girl from his women, gender, and sexuality seminar trying to close the door on him. She was Jason Grace's girlfriend. He'd seen them around campus enough. Cheerleader and football player. Picture perfect.

Well, not so perfect anymore, Percy figured. Through the crack he saw Jason Grace buttoning his pants, sitting next to his boyfriend, who was looking oh so guilty.

"Nico?" He asked. The girl stopped trying to shut him out. She looked back at the bed, then to Percy, her eyes wide and apologetic. Percy just pulled the door the rest of the way shut and headed home.

~

Annabeth tapped her pen on the desk nervously, her eyes glancing to Percy every few minutes. Jason swore he didn't know that guy had a boyfriend, but she was still pissed at him anyway. She liked Percy. He was one of the few people in the class who actually tried to interpret the texts instead of just trauma dumping. And he had a little bisexual flag pinned to the denim jacket he wore everywhere. She wished she had that kind of courage. Annabeth could almost forgive him for nearly running her over on his longboard once, or for playing guitar on the quad.

She needed to talk to him, but she was struggling to find an opener. Hi, sorry our boyfriends hooked up, can you not tell anyone, just seemed like a lot to say to a person at 11:50 in the morning.

But the minutes ticked away, and soon she was running towards him down the hallway of the busted old humanities building.

"Percy!" She called. He looked back, and his sad green eyes said oh I remember you. "I need to talk to you. Privately."

"I'm sorry your boyfriend is --"

"Shut up," she whispered, her voice harsh and her eyes warning. Percy nodded, understanding and respecting Jason's privacy enough not to announce it to the whole hallway. "Please, can we just talk in my car?" She offered.

Percy stood up straighter, and adjusted the skateboard in his hands. She could tell he wanted nothing to do with her. She tried to look sad, like maybe they were actually partners in misery here, but from his disinterested look, she could tell she was failing.

"Sure," he said, "if you do a flip."

"What?"

"You're a cheerleader, right? I wanna see a flip." Annabeth scoffed at the request. But ...

He was heartbroken, she reminded herself as she lead him outside to the patch of grass outside Humanities Hall.

He was heartbroken, and she didn't like letting other people win. He didn't think she'd do it, so doing a flip was exactly what she'd do. She thanked herself for picking a looser pair of jeans this morning instead of a skirt, as she shoved her backpack at Percy.

"Hold this."

"Yes ma'am."

Annabeth took a brief running start before doing a round-off back handspring, and then, for good measure, another back handspring. She walked back to Percy. His eyes were wide, like he didn't expect her to actually do it.

"Damn, that was a lot of flips," he said, his mouth open.

"If I'm trading flips for conversations, I want to make sure I get my fill," she said, before leading her to her car.

~

"I noticed you don't seem that torn up about your boyfriend hooking up with another guy," Percy said as soon as the car doors closed. Annabeth just rested her head on the steering wheel as she turned on the engine, letting the AC blast.

"That's what I need to talk to you about," she said. "I need you to not tell anyone about what happened on Saturday."

"Or what, you'll lose your date to formal?" He asked.

"I'm serious!" She yelled at him. Percy leaned back, a little surprised. "How many gay football players can you name?"

"Not a fair question, I can hardly name any football players," he told her.

"Well, there aren't a lot. And on top of that, Jason's dad is ..." Percy started to feel a little guilty, but then he remembered why he was in Annabeth's car at all, and that feeling disappeared. "Look, I knew Jason was gay. This whole thing we have? Its for show. He's a good, good friend, and between cheer, and sorority stuff, and academics, I didn't have a dating life anyway. It works out for us."

Percy slumped back in the passenger seat. He wouldn't tell anyone, he decided. He might have hated Jason, but he wouldn't do that to someone.

"Alright," he said. "I'll keep it to myself. But for the record, you are way too pretty to be someones beard."

Annabeth flushed. "And you are way to pretty to get cheated on by Jack Skelington," she said. Percy actually laughed.

"It's just so weird. I mean, he pursued me for months, flirted, asked me out, everything. And then Saturday he just told me that I'm not his type?" Percy said. Annabeth was listening carefully to him, a hand over his, like he was one of her sorority sisters or something, but he didn't pull away from the contact. "It's just ... I mean, he was my first real boyfriend. Everything else had only ever been awkward, secret hook ups at band camp."

Annabeth nodded and pointed to herself. "Cheer camp," she said.

Percy leaned back. "You ...?"

"What, you don't think I could be bisexual too?" She asked, defensive.

"No, it's just that ... I didn't know."

She just shrugged. "I do a sport that requires a lot of close touching with other women. Some of them might get weird about it. And the frat guys would get a totally different kind of weird about it," she said.

Percy nodded, understanding.

"You know," he said, his brain cooking up a plan, "our gay boyfriends just cheated on us, and --"

"I didn't get cheated on," she clarified.

"Right, but my point is, we," he gestured between them, "have the chance to do the funniest thing possible."

"Which is?" She asked.

"Go out with each other. Let me buy you a coffee?" He offered.

Annabeth just smirked. "Do a flip," she said, her head nodding towards his long board in the back seat.

"What?" Percy asked.

"Do a whats-it-called? A kickflip. Do a kickflip, and I'll get coffee with you," she said.

"That's a longboard." He'd never tried to do a kickflip on his longboard before.

"So do a long kickflip," she said.

Percy grabbed his board and slid out of the car. Don't break your face, don't break your face, he thought to himself as he started to roll down the parking garage lane. He did his best, but when his feet landed back on the board, they slipped out from under him. He toppled forward, his hands breaking his fall, as his board shot out behind him.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled, running over.

His feet had made it to the ground, landing him in an awkward downward dog position before he picked himself up, hand scraped but otherwise okay.

"Did that count?" He asked.

"Sure," Annabeth said. "Let's get a coffee."

[bratanimus]

33. you are such a nerd

@khaleesa, thank you for this awesome prompt! It was a lot of fun to write. And thanks to the lovely @pipergirl17 for betaing! I hope to work on the other prompts in my Ask box soon.

~*~

Hoard

Eddie sprawled on his stomach across Chrissy’s white eyelet comforter and peered over the edge of the bed, like the invisible Bilbo peeping at Smaug. All around herself, his girlfriend (someday he would stop italicizing that word in his mind, but today was not that day) had spread a veritable dragon’s hoard of paper, folders, notebooks, flashcards, pencil cases, and pens of all colors on the pink shag carpet. 

Sitting cross-legged in her running sweats, framed in a patch of afternoon sunlight, Chrissy looked luminous as she carefully pried open the lid of a box of new pencils as if it were a treasure chest.

“Tell me again,” Eddie said.

He pushed up the long sleeves of his T-shirt and rested his chin on the heels of both hands in what he hoped was a coquettish and distracting manner, his jean-clad legs bent and kicking his socked feet behind him like he was at an honest-to-god Annette Funicello pajama party. 

“Why are you doing this, exactly?”

Chrissy gave him the briefest of eye rolls, because she’d already started to explain on their way upstairs…though she’d been interrupted when they’d passed the Cunningham household’s actual dragon, who’d bellowed after them, “Door stays open!” Eddie could almost feel the mistrust billowing like acrid steam from Laura’s sewing room. Well, the old reptile would get used to him sooner or later. Or not. 

“Make fun all you want,” Chrissy huffed (oh, she was cute when she was miffed at him, and maybe he shouldn’t rile her up, but he was a dumbass still getting used to having her undivided attention, so sue him if he occasionally resorted to his old habits of poking and prodding and other sorts of ill-advised provocation, and anyway, she didn’t seem to mind). “But it’s the end of spring break.”

With that, Chrissy pinned him with a friendly glare, as if a reminder of the calendar date should’ve made everything crystal clear. 

Smirk (and dimples) still firmly in place, she broke the eraser off one of those brand new pencils, an unexpected act of violence that made Eddie’s eyebrows shoot upward. She tossed the nub into the flowery little trash can under her desk. Then she grabbed a fat, pink, arrowhead-shaped cap eraser from a pile of them and twisted it onto the top of the pencil. 

“Ah, I see,” said Eddie, not seeing at all. 

Chrissy only laughed at his confused expression, so he lay flat on his chest, chin on the bed’s edge, letting his arms dangle so he could fiddle with the felt tip pens scattered on the carpet. He stole a glance at Chrissy and pondered why one eraser might be somehow inherently better than another, so much so that she had to amputate and reattach, like some nerdy bookworm version of Mary Shelley.

“School starts back in a couple of days, right?” Chrissy went on as she attacked the next pencil.

“Uh-huh.” 

Eddie shoved aside her big green binder and slid his fingertips along the pens as he lined them up, orange and purple and red and blue—

Bonk! Another brand new nub landed in the trash can, and another cap eraser got reamed by a wooden writing instrument.

“I always reorganize my school supplies after fall break, Christmas break, and spring break. It helps me stay focused.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he bullshitted, as if he had any idea about systems for focusing.

He arranged the pens according to the colors of the rainbow, remembering Roy G. Biv, the acronym his seventh grade art teacher had taught for the progression of colors. But Chrissy owned way more than the seven basic shades here. There were at least two dozen. Did she carry these to school every day in a pencil case, a small treasure trove in her pink backpack?

“I love school supplies,” she gushed, continuing her mutilation of the pristine set of Ticonderogas, popping off a dozen heads one by one and replacing them with bloated Frankenstein ones.

He knew she had a thing about control, and Eddie had seen her do her fair share of feverish erasing in the two classes they shared this year. But were twelve cap erasers really necessary?

Messing with the felt tips on the floor, he must’ve asked that last bit out loud, because Chrissy said tightly, “Oh, you know. Just in case I need to correct a lot.”

Oops. He’d touched a nerve. He needed a distraction.

“I bet you pack five extra pairs of underwear for every overnight trip,” he mused, “just in case you have a blowout.”

“Ew!” she squealed.

An eraser nub hit him square between the eyes, which made him flinch and blink. 

“Seriously, Eddie.  Are blowouts something I should worry about?”

“Oh, I dunno. Hang around with me long enough—”

A larger arrowhead eraser smacked him on the cheek. He caught it before it fell off the bed, stuck it on his pinky, and made it speak over Chrissy’s giggles.

“Look, lady,” he Muppet-squeaked, “you have an eraser problem. And possibly an underwear problem. You need help!”

Chrissy pointed to his pinky. “Speak not to me, nor my Trapper Keeper, ever again. You’re just jealous of my loot.” 

“I have absolutely no use for dragon-guarded treasures,” Eddie murmured, quoting Tolkien as he slipped the eraser from his pinky and laid it reverently in Chrissy’s outstretched hand, “and the whole lot could stay here for ever, if only I could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home.”

Watching him, Chrissy’s eyes glimmered, prettier than any gemstones. His cheeks warmed. 

It was something to be looked at by her, wasn’t it? To be admired? He dropped his gaze back down to the pens he was arranging and hoped his face wasn’t too red.

“That’s it.” The words were barely a breath.

Eddie’s gaze rose again to find Chrissy staring down at her hoard of loot, hands upturned helplessly on her knees, the arrowhead eraser still in the center of her palm like the One Ring.

He tried to match her hushed tone. “What?”

“That’s how I feel. All the time. This house. All my things. It’s just…stuff.”

And she had no other home but this beastly one.

Eddie's heart pinched.

“Come up here,” he said.

She did, lying on her stomach next to him, chin resting on her folded arms as she watched him arrange the felt tips into different configurations with one hand. Gravity made his veins bulge a little; they looked knobbly and greenish-blue in the bright light from her window. His hand could almost be a pale dragon skittering over its mountain of treasure.

He didn’t know what to say, because he couldn’t say what he wanted to.

Come away with me. Let me be your treasure. You are already mine.

Leaning into her with one shoulder, he reached awkwardly into his front pocket and scrounged for the ever-present handful of mismatched polyhedral die, which he tossed to the floor, a field of shimmering stars around what he’d written across the landscape of her Pepto-Bismol carpet.

“Wait.” Chrissy’s head lifted from her forearms. She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Does that say—”

It did indeed. Eddie had arranged her plethora of pens to read 

NERD

“You are such a nerd,” he whispered, creasing his brow and dipping his chin for emphasis. He wondered if she could somehow read on his face what he was really thinking.

Chrissy looked back at him and smiled like he’d just placed a crown on her head. He swallowed. Maybe she could read his thoughts. Eddie tucked her lovely smile away into his own mental hoard, for safekeeping.

“Takes one to know one,” she said, cutting the inhalation for his retort short with a kiss.

He nodded his fervent agreement until her widening grin made further kissing more difficult, but not impossible.

The eraser lay forgotten on the floor with the rest of the hoard. 

[insipid-drivel]

Horse writing question I've been thinking about since I read Black Beauty as a kid. If you were to set Black Beauty in the modern day what animal husbandry/cruelty things would you highlight? Are there many issues left in the 21st century now that fewer people need horses for everyday labor? Thanks

I've never read Black Beauty, so I can't really make any informed comments either in praise of or critique of it.

A lot of people seem to assume I was one of those "horse girls" growing up with the horse-themed folders and horse-themed lunchboxes and horse-themed backpacks and horse-themed historical fiction YA library books dreaming of owning my own pony one day.

I wasn't, and as loving as the term may be, I'm agender and don't like the term "horse girl" applied to me, even though it's "the general name of the type of person". Right now, I'm tantalizingly close to getting my bottom surgery, and still get misgendered on a daily basis by literally everyone that speaks to or about me, no matter how loud I scream my they/them pronouns, or how many "Please use They/Them" pronouns I wear pinned to my shirt (I have several, still haven't been correctly gendered, even by the surgeon performing my bottom surgery - my mom only really tries to remember my pronouns when she knows I can hear her, and just reverts to she/her when she thinks I don't know).

I was a stable hand, which is a form of skilled labor that is often unregulated and goes without union or OSHA protections, and is a form of work where underage and child workers are extremely common. If I got injured at work as a stable hand, it was my parents' problem to get me to the doctor - there was no on-site accident insurance or PTO or anything. It is not an exaggeration to say the horses were treated with more care for their safety and wellbeing than the stable hands - myself included - caring for them were. You either worked and made what the boss gave you, or you didn't work and you didn't get paid until you showed up and put in your hours. I was always paid in cash under the table by adults looking for cheap labor with minimal red tape and oversight - sometimes I'd even have relatives "borrow" me and commit me to working at a friend's ranch on weekends "as a favor to their friend/colleague who needed an extra pair of hands" even when I was already balancing working during the week WITH going to school, all before I was 16 years old. Some days I spent more time shoveling horse shit than I actually spent with any horses, but I stuck with the work for as long as my body would let me - even long after I was too disabled to keep riding.

Horse upkeep was something that very much got introduced to my early life because of my dysfunctional biological parents. I mostly worked in barns because I'd grown up around horses and horse-people, and barns are a good place where a traumatized kid can drown out the noise in their head with backbreaking labor, exhausting work hours, and animals that were more emotionally available than anyone I had at home. Earning the trust and affection of giant 1000+lb animals also gave me a sense of validation and power: "My parents may not make me feel safe, but this quarterhorse can kick at 2000lbs PSI and secretly hates everyone but me," is an empowering feeling when you live in an environment where your sense of safety feels like more of an essential daily need than food and water.

[orionauriga]

writerly ephemera

✨ share some little bits of you, easter eggs, memories, etc. you have left scattered in your fics or art. if you fancy it, tag a pal. ✨

thank you to the lovely @moondal514 for the tag, and shoutout to the wonderful @decaflondonfog for starting this up!! one thing about me is i love yapping about the behind-the-scenes of my fics

Andrew’s gaze is heavy, like Aaron’s spiraling thoughts are displaying on the dashboard screen amid the radio information: 101.1 Columbia’s Alt Rock Hits — my mother died in a car crash i could kill myself or someone else just as easily and knowing my luck i probably will — Now playing: Sugar, We’re Goin Down by Fall Out Boy — (on the cusp of getting it right)

since getting a functioning aux cord i rarely, if ever, listen to the radio BUT when i do, my favorite local station is 101.1 because they're always playing alt rock. also, writing this scene was terribly amusing to me because (1) this was for last year's T&N fest and was posted anonymously and i was certain i'd exposed myself by mentioning fob by name and (2) when i was learning to drive, my dad never EVER allowed me to have anything playing during a driving lesson. and you know what. he was right to bc i did once nearly crash while trying to change the song when doing practice hours with my mom.

What he learned was that Aaron’s shoulders tensed first when he was scared. What he learned was that Aaron liked things in threes and fives. What he learned was that Aaron was a creature of habit who got cranky when his routines were disrupted. What he learned was that they shared a distaste for mayonnaise, an inability to sleep on their right sides,... (breaking every finger, praying that it makes me clean)

all of the above are true of me as well!

Dan, Matt, and Renee burst in, the latter mediating a debate between the couple about something useless and incomprehensible as usual. “I’m just saying, I don’t give a fuck if Harry has had the most successful solo career, I’m going to be a Louis girl ‘til the day I die.” (proof of survival)

take a wild guess who my favorite member of one direction is

Aaron would love to have an answer. At first he’d thought it was exams: there’s nothing like the last two weeks of a semester to send him into a soul-crushing, mind-destroying study spiral to prepare for three straight days of tests that will directly impact his future. But it’s officially winter break and he should be relaxing, yet he can’t shake the tight flutter of nerves behind his collarbone. (call the parents, tell them i'm okay)

right around my collarbones/upper chest/throat area is where i tend to feel the physical effects of my own anxiety

On the table directly in front of him are rows and rows of pin-back buttons in an overwhelming number of color combinations, each emblazoned with PSU PRIDE ALLIANCE in blocky font. (despite everything, i'm still human)

tbh this whole fic is projection central, but this was inspired by my school's annual coming out day table in the campus center, which had tons of buttons and is where i got the aromantic and asexual pins that lived on my backpack for the rest of my undergrad years

unrelated to the fic but still feels relevant: someone in my spanish class who i barely spoke to all semester let me know on the last day of class that he saw my ace flag pin and wondered what it was and that eventually led to him not only learn what it meant but to figure out that he is also ace. i don't think i ever saw him again but i think about him a lot. i'm so glad he told me that.

In the bakery, a package of cookies for you. Frosted in ice blue and dotted with snowflake-shaped sprinkles. (leftovers)

i didn't describe them with specifics in the fic but i was thinking of the lofthouse brand sugar cookies with frosting that are the subject of much debate on the internet bc so many people think they're gross. however they are very gorgeous to me. dessert of all time imo

There is a house inside Katelyn’s mind. In the room where she harbors her instincts regarding her boyfriends’ respective addictions, a light switches on. This bulb is rarely used anymore; it flickers, uncertain. The room it hesitantly illuminates is bare but for a floor littered with dusty liquor bottles and orange pill canisters prescribed to a dead woman. At the threshold, by her feet: a bottle, empty. “Kevin,” Katelyn says, standing in that doorway, looking at him over her shoulder. (i've known this dream for a long time)

this is one of my favorite metaphors i've ever written. partly because i love inventing incorporeal spaces like this as a way to represent emotions, and partly because this specific metaphor is a reference to something only i'll get. it references the original novel i wrote a couple years back, about a young woman and the ghost who is possessing her. whichever one of them is not presently in control of her body retreats to a house that 'exists' in her mind. inventing that internal world was the most fun part of writing that story (i'm hoping to edit that novel into something readable or at the very least repurpose the concept at some point)

no-pressure tags (sorry if you've been tagged/done this already!): @merceyca @cummandercold @jaywalkers

[jovenshires]

💙Smoshblr December Asks Day 18💛

What are your top 3 fave clothes, that you currently own? (can be faves for any reason, like comfort, smth you love to wear on special occasions, etc. 🤗)

Bonus: What are your top 3 fave accessories? (like jewelry, belts, bags, etc. 👜)

oh my god....... this is so hard bc i am a Fashion Girlie. but i digress. have some gpoys as well to showcase the Fits bc i am Proud of Them

the first is this cropped sweatshirt that says practice safe hex. i love her. SO much. i study witchcraft (one day ill practice. one day.) and i think this shirt is so funny and the and when fall hits? im a menace this is all i wear. (bonus shoutout to the patterned jeans in that pic bc they'd probably be my fourth pick for this list i LOVE those jeans.)

second is this brown corduroy skirt!! this is a more recent addition to my closet (i think i got it like last year?) and i wear it all the time. it is sitting on my bed to be put away from the wash rn. it's so cute and simple and goes with so many different things. ive got this outfit i really like to do with it (but no pics of the full thing unfortch) i call my shaggy fit where i wear this with like a lil green tank top sweater combo and its SUCH a cute winter/fall fit. (also this picture peeps one of my weeb tattoos so enjoy xx)

third and finally i cannot believe this is the best picture i have of this stupid thing (censored the face and an identifying landmark in the background LKNFKNSFLKNR) BUT this lil plaid overshirt? i have had that thing since i was literally... 13. so like 12 years and i STILL wear it ALLLLLL of the time. showing my arms makes me Uncomfy so this thing is a lifesaver. and i also wear a lot of plain black clothing so if smth needs a lil spice? ya just throw this bad boy on. plain black dress? plaid overshirt. lil romper? plaid overshirt. plain t-shirt? plaid overshirt. she's everything to me.

OH BOY OH BOY okay so two of these are like. staples to my wardrobe and the other one is. just for fun!

so the first one - my best friend handmade this for my birthday. this is my very own clown collar!!!!!! katie lore drop incoming - i am obsessed with clowns. i have a clown collection and a clown tattoo. so of course when she went to knit me smth she made me this!! i have not had the occasion to wear it but. im manifesting it soon (i will say she gave me this While i was dressed as a clown)

the second picture is of my class rings. (don't worry they've been heavily censored i'm not doxxing myself <3) the lighting is terrible and they also. don't leave my hands so the gems are grody as hell but the gems are blue zircon (my brother and mother's birthstone) and amethyst. im not even like. very proud of being an alumni from my schools but they remind me how hard i fought and all i learned to be where i am today and honestly. i love a ring! i love a ring moment and i wish i wore more so. class rings stick around.

and FINALLY. oh Boy oh Boy. i can talk about this thing for hours. this is my backpack. it is Covered in pins and keychains (spot all my special interests in there....... so many things....) and i take it Everywhere with me. this is actually the Third iteration of this backpack - i had a black backpack that all these pins were on (it broke tragically), then his white backpack had different pins, and now we've moved the black backpack pins onto the white backpack. im a bag enthusiast and a pin collector (i have so many pins....... so many) so i have multiple bags with pins all over them but. these pins are my faves.

ANYWAY. sorry ab being so extra but i love all these things soooo yeah <3<3<3

[in-my-shifting-era]

Some Days Are Harder Then Others

Eddie Munson (Angst that ends with lots of Fluff)

Warning: talk of the death of a parent and grief. Some mature language.

Summery: Reader is having a hard time with some personal issues and is canceling plans with Eddie and he wants to get to the bottom of why that is.

Authors Note: As someone who has experienced parent loss this is a bit self indulgent.Also my messages are open to anyone who has lost a loved one and needs someone to talk to. I may have cried writing this so be warned.

———————————————————————————————————

Grief is a bitch, that’s the easiest way to put it. They say it gets easier with time but after 7 years the wound still bleeds. Losing a parent at age 11 make’s grieving complicated and isolating. The loss becomes part of who you are and that means sharing the news with new friends and even partners that come into your life.

Eddie knew about your father’s passing from when it happened in middle school. Word traveled fast after administration was told and you where absent from school for 2 weeks only returning after the funeral service. He was one of the few kids that didn’t walk on egg shells around you when you came back.

You sat alone at lunch on your first day back. Eddie invited himself and sat with you. He immediately talked your ear off about the cool new pin you were wearing on your backpack. The pin belonged to your dad. It was from some band he liked and wore on a hat. Now it was one of the few things you had to remember him by. Eddie made a day that was destined to be hard and uncomfortable a day you met your best friend.

Eddie always let you grieve freely, he encouraged it actually. He’d ask you to tell him stories of your late father and he even gave you flowers on the anniversary of his death every year for you to put on his grave. You slowly fell for the metal head in your years of friendship leading up to a relationship your senior year.

Eddie likes to claim he repeated his senior year three times just so he could graduate with you. Now that you are finally graduating Eddie has stepped up his academic efforts to have at least a solid “C” in each class to pass. You study with him most nights and actually get him to do his homework with lots of breaks for cuddles and snacks.

So when you canceled your usual celebratory ice cream date for passing your math test on Wednesday with Eddie due to a headache he wasn’t hurt just concerned. Then you told him you had to watch your neighbors kid after school Thursday he was bummed but let it slide. His final straw was when you didn’t show up to school at all on Friday. He knew something was up and he was going to find out just what it was.

He completely ditched school after first period when he learned you had never shown up to class from Gareth. All the awful scenarios plagued his brain as to what could be happening with you. Did your car break down?Where you sick? Did you wanna break up with him and where avoiding him at all costs?

His mind raced until he made it to your house and seeing your moms car in the drive way. He put his van in park and practically ran to your front door knocking a little too eagerly. Your mom opened the door quickly and smiled softly when she saw Eddie with a worried expression on his face. He gave her a polite smile before he spoke. “Hello Miss y/ln, is y/n home? She never came to school today.”

Your mom actually really liked Eddie. Even before he was officially your boyfriend she always thought he was so polite and sweet. “Hi Eddie. She did stay home. She’s been having a rough few days and I told her to take a day off. She didn’t tell you she wouldn’t be coming in? You two are joined at the hip I figured you already knew.”

Eddie frowned at the thought of you not telling him something was wrong. Your mother caught on to this and spoke again. “She tells you everything doesn’t she? I actually had to pry this one out of her myself. She’s been missing her dad a lot lately. I think the thought of graduating without him around has finally sunk in.”

Eddie’s heart felt like it had completely shattered hearing that. He gave your mom a soft smile as he rocked on his feet gently. “I think I know where to find her now. Thank you.” She sent him off with a knowing nod and smile. She watched as Eddie walked back to his van and started on his way to find you.

Hawkins cemetery was a few miles from your house. Not an easy walk so he figured you drove. He was proven right when he could see your car from the entrance of the cemetery. He parks his car just outside the gate and walks in knowing how to get to your father’s grave from visiting with you before.

You sat by the grave marked with your father’s name. Tears stain your cheeks as you pick at grass that surrounds the garnet stone. “Graduating should be exciting right? All the bull shit of high school is almost over and all I can think about is that you won’t be in the crowd watching me walk across that stage. Ready to give me flowers like you always did when I accomplished something.” You wipe another fallen tear as you bring your knees to your chest.

Eddie finally makes it to where your sat, your shaky voice now clear as he approaches you. He goes to announce his presence but stops when you softly continue your talk. “Eddie’s going to be with me though. I know you never got to meet him but I think you’d really like him Dad. He makes me really happy and he treats me like a gentleman. Just like you always told me I deserve.”

A wide smile quickly finds its way to Eddie’edds face as he hears you talk about him to your father. He knows you like to catch him up on all the things going on, good and bad. His heart sores knowing he is something good in your life. Eddie steps closer and his feet meeting the grass close to where you’re sat. “Mr y/ln, I’ll do everything I can to get her those flowers for walking across that stage. She deserves it, for getting me there too.”

You look behind you quickly recognizing Eddie’s voice immediately. Seeing him makes all the confusing emotions flood over and your eyes fill with tears. “Eds .” You’re quickly enveloped in a huge as Eddie joins you where you’re sat in the grass letting you cry into his shoulder. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your time with him.” Eddie rubs your back gently as he speaks knowing how it calms you down.

You shake your head again his shoulder and attempt to steady your shaking breathing. “You’re not interrupting. I’m sorry I disappeared lately.” Eddie pulls you back a bit, only enough to be able to wipe your fallen tears. “You don’t have to apologize for anything princess. You are aloud to feel your emotions however you see fit. Just know I’ll be here for you. Even when the ugly grief clouds cast over head.”

You give your boyfriend a small smile and a nod laying your head against his chest gently. “I’m pretty sure you heard what I said about you to him. I ment it. He would have really liked you Eddie.” You take his calloused hand into yours and play with his rings gently. Something that has always soothed you.  Eddie pulls you closer to his chest. “I still aim for his approval you know. He may not be here to scare me straight into treating his daughter right but I still do everything I can to be a man he’d be happy to have stolen his daughters heart.”

You pull back gently and cup Eddie’s face with your hands and smile widely up at him. “ I don’t know how I get so lucky to find a guy like Eddie Munson but I’m not letting you go. Got it.” Before Eddie can even respond your crash your lips into his. He kisses you back instantly and pulls away after a short moment. “I’m not going anywhere princess. You’re kinda stuck with me.” Eddie tightens his grip around you gently and kisses all over your face making you giggle loudly.

Once he stops he lets you catch your breath and he smiles down at you. “I heard something about getting you flowers at graduation? Do I get a bouquet for myself as well?” You roll your eyes playfully at his comment and lay against him as you talk about graduation and make plans for what will happen that day. Your dad being involved in every step of the way.

[hungerpunch]

scraping brain out

sometimes i get frustrated or genuinely confused about why i still struggle with my relationship to my body so much when i'm like.. mostly fine with it these days. why do i still pick my face until it's bloody everywhere when i'm stressed. why do i pull the skin off my lips until they're bleeding and swollen. why am i so, so afraid of being looked at, why does attention make my skin crawl, why do i cringe when people talk about me even if it's positive?

it's like my brain routinely suppresses the reasons and then i remember. oh yeah. i was violently bullied from the ages of 8-18. i was physically attacked by kids of all genders. i was stalked. i was hurt. i was humiliated at every opportunity. verbally degraded at every opportunity. oh yeah, in seventh grade i came to school and someone had tacked up a list of ugliest kids in the grade and i was number three. oh yeah, a girl stole my journal out of my backpack and read pages aloud in the cafeteria to a rapt and mocking audience. everything about me was an easy target. i was super short. i had a flat chest. then i got glasses. then i got acne. then i got braces. my hair was always frizzy and could not be tamed. i was queer and they knew it before i did. they smelled my fear. they were amused by my anger when i tried to fight back. it wasn't even just in school. they appeared at my softball games. they followed me home. i was dragged through a creek, crying and full of thorns from bushes. i was pushed down into a ravine and when i climbed back up they pushed me back down, again and again until it got dark and they had to go home. i was chased and pinned and pinched and spat on and sat on and laughed at and laughed at and laughed at. i had my phone number printed on hundreds of pieces of paper and scattered all over the high school, all over the parking lot, with salacious rumors attached. i had to change my number. people asked me on dates as a joke. people asked me to dances then stood me up, collecting bets from their friends. they drove their cars along the sidewalk and screamed slurs at me. during class they blew spitballs into my hair and my face. they called me dirty because of my acne even though i was sitting in monthly dermatologist appointments, trying new things, obsessively cleaning myself.

adults saw and did nothing. in fact when my attempts to defend myself occasionally drew blood from my abusers, i was the one reprimanded. i couldn't bring myself to tell my parents the extent of it because they thought i was tough and i wanted to be tough. i didn't want to be soft. i didn't want to need help. i didn't want to change schools and leave my handful of friends.

and this is just school kids. i can't even get into family.

i have had profound healing via therapy, about reuniting with my younger self and loving them unconditionally. i know i protected me because nobody else did. i get confused about the way my adult self moves and reacts because my brain keeps this all under a lid, so i can function. then i remember. i get frustrated because i think, shouldn't i be healed by now. shouldn't i be past this. shouldn't i be better adjusted. but the truth is, no. i still haven't let this poison from my blood enough. i think it's important to understanding me as a person. i think it's important to understanding my perspective. i think it's important to understanding i didn't have anything remotely close to a normal childhood. i think it's okay that it still plagues me. i think it's okay.

[lovemesomesurveys]

How old were you when you learned how to drive? I don't drive.

Have you ever been to a baby shower? What was the baby’s name? Yeah, I've been to a few.

What mode of transport did you take to high school? My mom took me majority of the time, but occasionally my dad or aunt did.

Name a personality trait of yours that you like. I think I'm a good listener.

Name something about your physical attraction that you dislike. My physical appearance? Uh, like everything. My smile is a big one.

What’s in your purse right now? I use a mini backpack, which right now has my wallet, a thing with some of my medicine, a 2 pack of Reese's (lol), and a Barbie pin I still need to put on the front of my backpack.

Do you vote in your country’s elections? Yes.

What was your first kiss like? It was unexpected and awkward, but I was just giddy about having had my first kiss. It's not like I had anything to compare it to.

Shuffle your music and skip twice. What song is playing? Nah.

Have you ever been a freelancer? No.

What mood were you in when you woke up today? I felt okay.

What storey is your bedroom on? I live in a one-story house.

What gifts do you usually receive at Easter? Gift cards and something like a stuffed animal and/or a shirt.

Do you use a planner to keep track of your life? I use the calendar app to remind me when my bills are due, and I also use the notes and reminders app for stuff.

Who was the last person you sent an email to? I don't recall the last time I sent an email.

Are there any posters in your bedroom? Yeah, I have a few canvas painting and framed ones. Most of them are giraffes, but I also have some beach ones, a couple paintings my uncle did for me, and a Stranger Things poster (the well-known ABCs on the wall one with the strung lights).

What was your favourite fairytale as a kid? I've always liked Alice in Wonderland.

Is there anything in your freezer that you really need to get rid of? I have no idea what's even in my freezer. I'm still mostly bedridden and need help transferring and when I'm up in my chair checking the freezer isn't something I've had a need to do in awhile. I just haven't had a reason to; if I want something I'd just ask someone.

Have you ever played Second Life? No. I'm a Sims gal.

What do you like about the town or city you live in? Just the fact a lot of my family is here.

What do you dislike about the town or city you live in? My town is awful. It's not known for anything good.

Are your parents good cooks? Yes.

What’s the first thing you notice about a person? >> this will vary from person to person <<<

Have you ever been to a chiropractor? Did you like it? I have not.

What is your favourite museum? I don't have a particular favorite, though I've only been to a few. I enjoy historical type ones with artifacts and whatnot. I think I'd love The Smithsonian if I ever get to go one day. I love all that kind of stuff.

Do you know anyone who is an actor? No.

Have your wisdom teeth come through yet? I had those taken out when I was a young teenager.

How many weddings have you been to? Just three.

Do you watch Youtube? What channels do you like? I watch a shit ton of YouTube. I'm subscribed to many channels of various types. I like ASMR (a lot of ASMR channels), vlogs/lifestyle, hauls, mukbangs, abandoned places, Disney history and related stuff.... stuff like that.

What’s your alcohol of choice? Barf, none. I don't drink.

Have you ever used a public pay phone? Yeah. It was like back in 2010, I think. The community college I attended had a few and I needed to use it cause my phone had died.

Which one item would you save from your burning house? This is such a hard question cause I'd wanna try and grab so many things.

Do you have a Twitter account? Yeah, or "X" as it's called now. *eye roll* I don't go on it much anymore.

What is your hair like right now? Short and no real style to it right now. I'm in the process of growing it out after cutting it like pixie cut short over a year ago for reasons. It's in that awkward phase, but it is starting to really grow out.

How do you like your eggs cooked? Over-easy, scrambled, hard boiled, deviled, egg salad. I like eggs.

What’s the longest you’ve been without showering? A few months while in the hospital. Like an actual shower I mean. I had bed baths of course.

Name one of your guilty pleasure songs. I didn't want to admit to liking some Justin Bieber songs at first like when his Purpose album came out. lol. I don't care now.

Have you ever made an item of clothing? No. I've never tried to learn or attempt to.

What was the most expensive bill you paid within the last month? I have a few high credit card payments. :X

[alagaisia]

I don’t really do New Year’s resolutions, but I have been already working towards this, so I’ll offer it up anyway: I’m trying to read more. As a kid I read almost constantly. And then I started high school and college and I didn’t have the time or energy, and got out of the habit.

But in the last couple of months, I’ve been reading more. In my current job, which I only get to work about every other weekend anyway, I sometimes have twenty or so minute of down time at a time, often multiple times a day, between calls and tours, and it’s not retail so nobody minds if I’m reading my book since I’m also fully getting my work done. So I can put books on hold online at the library, and then when they’re ready, stop by and pick them up in the morning on my way to work.

And it’s been incredible. Because I love reading. Not even just the stories themselves, and I admittedly don’t do a lot of deep analysis of themes or anything like that while I read, because I just so enjoy even the act of reading, diving into a whole new world and losing myself in it a little bit.

I’m a very quick reader and as a kid I would bike to the library with my sister and we would come home with a dozen books each, almost more than we could stand to carry in our backpacks, and then we’d go back the next week. I am quite sure that there are more books that I read in their entirety and remember absolutely no details from at all, totally and completely wiped from my mind as if they never existed, than many people have read ever. And I loved it. When my mom put her foot down and said we could only bring home eight books each, I would decide between books based on how big they were.

I’m more selective now, but I’m still a quick reader. When I pick up a book in the morning and bring it to work I almost always finish it that day. And I’ve read so many good books! I finished Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers series. I read a couple of Dara Horn novels that I really enjoyed. I absolutely devoured Mary Robinette Kowal’s Lady Astronaut books (and then received the full set for my birthday a couple of weeks ago, because I loved them so much I had to have my own). I’m two books into Rebecca Roanhorse’s Between Earth and Sky trilogy, which is fascinating, and does have such an interesting and different flavor from a lot of European fantasy that I’m sure a reader more interested in analysis than I am would be able to pin down in better words but which I’m just enjoying the ride with.

I can’t tell you how good it feels to be reading again. It’s like a return to my old self. Like coming home. So my New Year’s resolution, of sorts, is to continue that. I considered trying to say I’d read a book every week, but that’s a little too concrete for not liking resolutions, and also if I get a full time job, which I sure would like to do, and my routine changes, it’ll be harder to keep to a schedule, and it will feel more like work, which of course is not what I want.

But maybe I’ll try to keep up a list for tumblr or something. Not like reviews or anything, probably, because trying to think about talking to other people about aspects of a book takes me out of the experience (yeah, I did occasionally struggle in high school English classes, lol. I would get so caught up in reading the books that I would forget to think about discussion questions or whatever. But boy did I like reading all those books!), so, not a good resource for my newfound handful of followers, unless your criteria for book recommendations is “a tumblr user mentioned the name of it once,” but something. Not holding myself accountable exactly because again who cares about resolutions, but like, a dedicated place to share what I’m up to in that realm and keep the momentum of the enjoyment up a little bit, if that makes sense.

TL;DR, Happy New Year? ❤️

[desirepathzine]

Revisiting Just Kids

Patti Smith's first published memoir, Just Kids, has cemented its status as one of the greats. Enchantingly told, an endearing portrait of two artists, Smith and her lifelong twinflame Robert Mapplethorpe, coming of age in late 60s/early 70s New York, while also chronicling the legendary Chelsea Hotel.

Every time I go to an art museum, it's in the gift shop. Every time I see a BookTok video recommending memoirs, it's usually there. When Patti sang Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Rey at a concert a few weeks ago, the pinned comment referred everyone to read Just Kids.

Just Kids entered my life shortly after its publication in 2010, when I was twelve years old. I was a kid fascinated by punk, The Runaways were my favorite, but I knew that everybody I loved honored and respected Patti Smith, even though her music didn't really mesh with what I had going on at the time. But she was the godmother of punk and I needed to know what the big deal was. I had read a few of the more shocking and exploitative rockstar memoirs, perhaps a little too early for a largely very sheltered 12 year old. I was anticipating something with stories about life on the road, the dangerous life of making punk rock (I was 12, let her dream), and lots of stories about other legendary musicians and artists.

I picked up Just Kids shortly after my birthday expecting to be scandalized and fascinated. That's not the kind of book it ended up revealing itself to be.

Instead it was a sweet, poignant, minutely remembered, and very moving story about two people who were meant to experience life and art together. I wept openly several times reading it. Even at 12, not quite grasping everything I was reading (I would not look at a Mapplethorpe photograph for many years after reading this book, I was too young!) But it opened up the possibility within me that art was going to be something that I was going to live for too, and that it could happen.

I'm 26 now. And I'm about to move out of my childhood bedroom, something I had meant to do earlier in my life, but. It was 2020 when I graduated college and that didn't work out. I'm moving back to a big city, with a steady normal 9-5 to stay alive, but that's not what drew me back to the city. Art did, and does, and will continue to do so.

As I've been packing and sorting and paying too much money to do things necessary for my survival, I decided to do my re-read of Just Kids that I inevitably do every few years. I think the last time was in the twilight days of the covid lockdowns, when I was waking up at 2pm and going to bed whenever I could get my brain to quiet enough to let me rest. I remember reading it while rehearsing for my church's Hanging of the Green performance in high school, a fellow choir member chastising me for its back cover, which featured Robert and Patti kissing in a photobooth. I brought it with me on my last trip to New Orleans, but was too busy traversing the city to begin the re-read, so it sat in my backpack observing our hotel room quietly.

I finished it last night, sitting around boxes packed of everything I have accumulated in my life that is worth taking with me to the next chapter. The ending, with Robert passed and Patti left to tell their story, always gets me, but it really touched me in a way that felt like I'd finally grown into myself as an adult, as an artist, and as someone who was willing to do anything they could to create what they needed to create.

I have been anxious, afraid, overwhelmed; all of the big emotions that come with going out into the world on your own. Just Kids has been a balm on me, in many ways.

Because the book has been in my life for so long, there is an immediate sense of nostalgia when I pick up my old copy, the first paperback edition with the simple black and white cover, still somehow holding together despite all the places I've taken it and all the times I've read it. There is a comfort to its worn out pages. I know exactly where all of my favorite passages and photographs are, it is dogeared and loved. So as an object that has been in my life for so long, there is something comforting about seeing it in my backpack or feeling it in my hands again.

Just Kids also soothes my fears about going out into the world in a real way. It's not that nothing bad or strange or upsetting happens within the book, in fact many things do, but it is the fact that there is perseverance, friendship, romance, and magic in the world that can outweigh the fears and hardships of survival.

But mostly, it reassures me. Patti and Robert's devotion to their art, to each other, to pursuing their artistic heights, and to the community of friends that surrounded them and would support them in return, it's beautiful. I can get tunnel vision when going into a new task or situation. When I audition for a new show, I always think it's going to be me alone in front of a table of people who are there to judge me. I always forget about the camaraderie of those in the audition greenroom with you, of the stage managers that make sure your blazer collar is smoothed down, the ADs who make sure the water stays supplied, and that those people judging you at the table are just people at the end of the day trying to do what you're doing: create something great. It's been the same with moving and working: I picture myself alone at a desk and thrown into the waters of my new work. But that's not how it will be. There will be people. There will be community. I'm already connected to the arts community, as well as the musical subcultures in the city where I will move. I go to their goth nights, I go to exhibition openings at the museum, and there are at least two waiters at my favorite cafe who know my drink order when I stop by for the carb up for a night of dancing.

Art cannot be made alone. I will not be alone. Just Kids reminds me of that.

[casspurrjoybell-32]

*Warning Adult Content*

HE'S DIFFERENT - Chapter 4

Adyen

Len meet me in the library.

He strolled in a little late and looked lost until his eyes caught mine from across the room.

He smiled and I looked away feeling a bit flustered.

We worked on our assignment together for the next few hours.

Something I noticed was that Len was smart and could stay focused for long periods of time, a big contrast from the panicky and oblivious dufus I had been talking to until then.

He also seemed less fidgety around me.

Maybe he'd sorted out whatever it was that had him acting weird. 

I even asked for his help along the line and he'd been kind enough to show me what to do.

He knew his stuff and he seemed to get into a fixated zone when working.

Somewhere in the middle of all the side glances I gave him, I decided that he didn't look that bad.

I know I had made up my mind a while back that he wasn't my type but he was a lot easier on the eyes once you got used to the rugged jawline and high chiseled cheekbones.     

"What are you going to do after this?" I asked, watching Len zip up his backpack.

We had just finished with our assignments and were packing up.   

"Eat some lunch," he said, staring at me.

I hummed and nodded in response.

Earlier this morning during my track practice, I had worried about what Len would think of me when we worked together.

I joked about being broke but it was a coping mechanism.

The idea was that if I did it first people would look dumb doing it to me.

I had looked at Len's drawing equipment when he had pulled them out to work and I had noticed how most of his stuff was old or outdated versions of new models.

I know it shouldn't have made me feel relieved but it did.     

There was a complex I still hadn't gotten over after going to a prep school on scholarship.

Having costly stuff or at least being bothered about having pricey things were just the staple and the attitude just carried over to my university life.

Yeah, people didn't stop being materialistic after high school.

When my teammates started talking about their shoes or watches I slipped away to be by myself.

I didn't have anything to show off and by the looks of it neither did Len.     

"Do you want to come with me?" I blinked, hearing Len's voice.

"To grab lunch," he clarified as he got up from the black chair.

The library was large and there weren't many people around so there was pin-drop silent aside from the occasional cough in the distance. 

I stared at him for a bit before getting up with my own bag.

"Sure," I said, watching as Len smiled before he started walking in the direction of the exit.

I hurried after him, towing behind him before deciding that was weird and walking up until I was at his side.

He was taller than my 5'10 and wider than my skinny self.      

We left the library, walking out into the streets that hit us with a chilling winter breeze and snow from the sky above.

Spring couldn't come fast enough.

I blinked when a flake got in my eye.

I was that I had tucked my hair under a black beanie unless I would have had to deal with wet hair when I got back to my dorm room. 

Len wasn't wearing a hat or even a scarf.

He didn't seem too affected by the weather.

It reminded me a bit of the time we met.

He hadn't been wearing any of those either.

He had on a puffer jacket and plaid blue jeans, though.     

"The student union cafeteria's fine, right?" he asked and I blinked, looking.

I had somehow forgotten I had been staring at him⁠.

A change of pace I guess⁠... being the creep today.    

"Yeah, that's fine," I muttered, pulling up the hoodie of my jacket.   

"Great," he nodded as we walked in the direction of the student union building.

It was one of the oldest on campus with its old-style gothic McMansion look.

When we got there we stood in line together, getting our lunch from the same Indian food stall.     

"You like this too?" I asked, sitting across from him on one of the many two-seat tables in the cafe.   

Len looked up at me, before looking down at his food and nodding.

"Yeah."

There was silence after that as we ate our food quietly.

I sulked at the fact that we weren't talking but I didn't have anything in mind to talk about and Len looked okay with being quiet.   

"So," I started, watching as Len's eyes shot up to meet mine.

"What are you about?" I cursed at myself in my head for being cringed but it was the only conversation starter I could think of.

"What?" Len rose a brow and I shrugged.     

"You know..." I shrugged.

"Tell me about yourself," I said, teasing the curve of the plastic cup in front of me.      

"Come on, say something. I'm bored," I insisted.

He gave me a weird look as a low hum escaped his pursed lip.

He looked so focused, it was hilarious.

He suddenly smiled and I noticed the little mole on his right cheek when a complementary dimple formed.   

"Let's see..." he trailed, using the fork on his tray like a drumstick.

"I'm an architecture major." 

"I am too," I cut in, resting my elbows on the table before using my hands to cup my face.

"Kinesiology minor, you?" 

"Art and design," Len said in response and I nodded my head. 

"Are you from Toronto?" he asked.     

"Nah, Ottawa."

At least that was where my last foster home had been.

I've been everywhere from Alberta, BC and Saskatchewan but Len didn't need to know the specifics.

At least, not yet.

"You?" I asked, not wanting the conversation to die.

"Alberta," he said before taking a sip from his Diet Coke.

"More specifically, Peace River."

The cafeteria was a bit rowdy so I had to read his lips a bit to pick up what he was saying.   

Len stared at me for a bit, before talking.

"What kind of things do you like to do?"

The question was as wobbly as his voice.

I smiled, noting that this was starting to feel like a twenty-one questions game.     

"I do Track. You should come and watch me run sometime."

I don't know why but I was starting to feel a bit flirty.

I watched as Len's eyes widened a bit.

He looked away from me, seeming to try and collect his thoughts. 

"Sorry, are you flirting with me?"

I don't know why but that question caught me off guard a bit.

I picked at my curls, trying to figure out what to say.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

Yeah, I had been flirting with him but no one had ever asked a question directly like that.

It felt weird to be put in the spot like that.     

"I need to know. I'm not amazing at reading signals."

I watched as he nibbled on his bottom lip.

He was fumbling with his fingers, keeping himself busy.

"Sorry. Ignore what I just asked..."   

"Yeah," I said, cutting him off.

If I was going to tell him I was gay, this was the best time.

"I'm gay," I said, watching as Len looked up.

His lips parted a little and there was a brief look on his face I failed to read before it was gone.     

"Oh," was all he said, licking his lips before letting out a breath.

"Okay."   

What's up with that reply, I wondered, raising a brow at him.

'Okay?'

This was the part where he was supposed to tell me he was gay too.

Wasn't he?     

"What kind of stuff do you like to get yourself into?" I asked, deciding that I no longer wanted to have the current conversation.

Maybe I had misread Len.

Maybe he wasn't interested in me like I had guessed.   

"I play Lacrosse."     

I don't know why but I clapped at Len's answer.

I liked Lacrosse but I too skinny to play a roughing-up game like that. 

"I like lacrosse," I said, watching as Len smiled.     

"Well, maybe you can come and watch me play sometime."

He gave me a side smirk and I felt the blood run from my face.

Was this his way of flirting back? 

"Sounds like a plan," I said, looking down at my hands.

I wasn't sure what was up with me.

I flirted all the time... with people I was interested in and with people I wasn't.

It often took a lot to shake and confuse me but here I was getting flustered at Len's bad attempt at copying me. 

"Do you live on campus?"     

I looked up.

"Yeah," I answered watched as Len looked out into the distance.     

"Ah, alright. I was wondering if we could take the bus together. Guess we can't," he said.

He looked a little sad about it. 

A chuckle left my lips.

He looked adorable and I was amazed at how honest his expressions were.

They gave him away.

Someone the trait that had made him come off as creepy was now endearing.   

One of his full brows rose a bit, as if asking me what I was laughing at.

I waved him off, resting my head on my hand. 

"Do you have anything going on this Saturday?" he asked.     

"I'll check," I said.

I had nothing going on.

I didn't have friends to go out with or anything but I didn't want Len to know that... at least not yet.

I don't know, there was something about him today that made me want to look less like a mess.

He didn't need to know I was a loser. 

"If you have some time it would be cool if you followed me downtown some time. There's this Pizza place I go to all the time," he said.

I stayed quiet for a bit, wondering if he just wanted to hang out or if this was a date of some sort.

Unlike Len however, I wasn't brave enough to ask for clarifications directly. 

"Alright," I said and he smiled.     

We managed to shift the conversation to school-related things.

We complained about our assignments and professors together.

We also laughed about weird stuff that happened around campus.

When our plates were empty and we had to accept that we'd been sitting in the cafe for a little too long we got up and headed out the Student Union building, parting ways at a close bus stop.

As I made my way to the residence building I kept wondering why I was suddenly overwhelmed by Len.   

Today he was... well, different.   

The smile I'd been wearing since I left the cafeteria didn't leave even when I got into my room.

The first thing I did after getting into more comfortable clothes was to text Len to tell him I was available on Saturday and when there was an opening I asked if he had other social media. 

I take back saying he was not my type.

[prettysuper]

"Honolulu is the capital, babe. I've been wanting to return since I came back. Hawaii took me in and accepted me when nowhere else would. It's a beautiful state and I wanted to take you at some point anyway. I know you'll have a lot of questions, I'll do my best to answer them when we get there." Kon had answered as their lips parted, getting up shortly after Timothy to wriggle into boxer shorts, black torn jeans and a black t-shirt, lacing up his usual combat boots and grabbing his usual jacket to shrug after his shoulders. He packed his lighter and cigarettes into the bag Timothy began packing, as well as a change of boxers. He'd excused himself to the bathroom to take care of the last reminder of the night before, relieving himself shortly after doing so.

When they were both ready, Kon pulled the backpack on before placing his shades on Timothy and then picking him up princess-style. As he flew up into the air, he took the journey slow; tucking his boyfriend carefully against his chest, TK shielding him from the wind, as he soared forward, reaching Honolulu within forty-five minutes of having left. Predictably, Timothy had been lulled to sleep, so as Kon landed on the balcony of his old place in Honolulu telekinetically unlocking the balcony door, and kissing Tim's forehead as he carried him inside. The apartment itself was cramped with a studio layout not unlike Tim's; the kitchen was in front of the bathroom closet, next to the front door, the bed area tucked neatly behind a bookcase, no space for a living area. Kon had never needed one. Spread on the walls were clippings of photographs from the local newspaper, starring Superboy during his earliest adventures. Next to the refrigerator was an old pin-up calendar from 2017; starring topless women. On the kitchen island was an ashtray; still full from when he'd last been here. A series of hand-drawn graffiti marked the walls; mostly song lyrics, the old-school 'S' that seemed to exist almost unilaterally throughout the zeitgeist, some band posters and some old polaroids starring himself, a bubbly white blonde, and a darker-skinned woman with black hair of native island descent. An assortment of old clothes lay around the floor, along with magazines and pornagraphic dvds. Realising Tim was still asleep, Kon laughed fondly and poked him mentally - 'Wake up sleepy, we're here.' "Sorry 'bout the mess. Kinda left here in a hurry." He sat Tim gently down on one of the kitchen counter stools. He didn't even want to think about what the state of the fridge was like. "I might have some old coffee. Or I can go run to get some fresh. But if you wanna talk about any of this, I'd rather we did this here than y'know, at the cemetary." He took off the backpack and leaned against the counter, fingers already fidgeting for a cigarette as he felt nervous. He didn't usually like to smoke when Tim was around - knowing it was bad for human lungs - but just once couldn't do much harm right?

Timothy did just that, all too willing to give in to the void of sleep soon. “You should try to get some sleep too.” his hand shifted, finding that rib cage to pull him even closer, uncaring if their breaths brushed against each other’s skin. It did not take long with the steady breaths for him to fall asleep. 

Regrettably, his sleep was not as peaceful as he had hoped. Nightmares of the cloning process lingered, still working on filtering themselves out but they were not as traumatic, just a repeat of the failures, the frustration, the screaming underground where no one could hear him. Then it faded and something in his brain nudged him back to being conscious. His eyes were slow to open, and when they did, they quickly reclosed as he listened to the sounds around him. Birds were chirping and arguing outside with each other, their voices a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. His eyes fought to stay open before a finger reached up to wipe out the ‘sand’ of the night from their corners to take away the blur, a small act that brought a momentary sense of clarity. 

They found Kon-El smiling and handing his phone back. “Mornin’” his husky tenor grumbled, wanting more but also not wanting to return after the nightmare lingered. A soft laugh fell from those lips as his words were given back to him. “Yes I did. What a great view to wake up to.” that smile remained as his phone was checked, no missed calls or new messages so it was lowered to the bed face down. The familiar sight of his boyfriend and the peaceful morning outside brought a sense of relief and comfort, a stark contrast to the turmoil of his dreams. 

Until a disoriented idea came.

“What?” That name was lodged into his mind as a groomer to Kon-El so his face twisted into an expression that was less than happy that he wanted to visit her. At current he was still hunting down the other. Before he could say anything to that, Kon-El’s finger was on his face. Then it was removed after a long ramble, cursing Timothy’s head to spin a little. He had just woken up and was barely functioning without coffee to help so this was a lot. 

With the reminder that Kon-El may not have even been asleep yet and had all night to ponder this along, a sigh escaped Timothy’s mouth. “Shit, Kon. That is a lot for you to have been sitting here thinking about alone. I feel like I am missing a lot of information but will attempt to piece it together that you want to go to Hawaii for the whole weekend due to Honolulu?” The phone was pulled back up so he could check his schedule, unaware Kon-El had done so already. Clear. 

Leaning forward as the phone lowered, his lips found Kon-El’s for a gentle, lingered closed-mouth kiss so the man knew he was not saying no. “I’ll come with you. I don’t understand right now, I just woke up and need to process a bit, but I can support you if you need to do this.” Then he was moving to sit up, phone left on the table as he slid from bed, hand to his front covering up the partial hard-on from needing to take a piss while his walk was stiff, those joints attempting to move after being idle and from patrolling the night before. When he got to his dresser for a pair of boxer briefs, he walked normally as muscles adjusted.

The bathroom door was left open as he relieved himself, washed his hands and brushed teeth for the morning. Once he was done, he went to the closest to grab a large backpack, a few outfits, and some healthcare supplies. Their suits were in shreds still on the comforter so he texted Lucius quickly, asking him if he could remake a new suit and possibly an extra over the weekend or week. That meant no patrolling unless he wanted to use his old robin, but it was not ideal. Kon-El moved past him to use the restroom too, leaving Timothy to collect any other items they might need before getting dressed. 

Texts to his family were sent to let them know he would be out of town for the weekend on a vacation, which caused a lot of texts flooding in from those surprised and asking if he was serious. They were ignored as he grabbed his charger and shoved it into the bag. Within an hour he was ready, the backpack placed on Kon-El when he asked for it so Timothy could lock up the apartment. Both made sure no one was around and were out of view before Kon-El grabbed him and went to the air.

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Spider Queen- P.P.

Okay so this is post snap and Tony's alive because it's my universe and that's what I want, lmao! Also I don't write minors so both Peter and the reader are 18 in this, high school seniors.

Y/N doesn't realize she's one of the most popular people in school until the Prom Court nominees come out.

Masterlist

TW- Mention of food, mention of death if you squint (mom died in the battle of new york), just a little cursing, mostly fluff!

Pairing- Holland!Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count- 3,873

(Gif not mine, credit to owner!)

You didn’t really know you were popular until you were put on the ballot for prom queen. Pretty late in the year, yeah, but appreciated, nonetheless. No one was happier for you than Peter, your loving boyfriend. You had been together since Sophomore year of high school, having been chemistry partners and study buddies for months before he finally wised up and asked you out on a date.

You sprint through the halls to find him and share your news, although you know he’s had to have heard it. Even so, you want to celebrate with him, and as you run, you hear words of congratulations from every which way. Finally, you see him at his locker, and you stop next to him, breathless, as you hold out the sheet with the prom court nominees. “Y/N! Is that the ballot?!” He asks, closing his locker. You squeal excitedly, holding it out to him with a wide smile on his face.

“Yes! I can’t believe I might be prom queen!” He picks you up easily and spins you in the air as he kisses you sweetly.

“You’re gonna be prom queen, baby! I don’t have a doubt about it. Everyone loves you!” Peter says, and your face quirks. It’s not like you’re Liz Allen.

“What are you talking about? I’m not popular!” Peter’s brow furrows. Surely you know, right?

“Y/N, everyone loves you!” He repeats. “Remember when you came to school with that cool pin and then all of a sudden, everyone started wearing them? Or when you played that song in the talent show last year on your guitar, and suddenly that was everyone’s favorite song?! You’re seriously, like, the most popular person in school!” You’re still not getting it, so Peter grabs Flash by the arm as he passes, pulling him in to the conversation.

“Flash, do you think Y/N’s popular?” Flash gives an incredulous look, and you’re almost saying I told you so, before he responds.

“Well, duh. She’s the coolest person in this shithole, dude. You should know that; she’s your girlfriend or whatever.” Your eyes widen. The only person more cool than himself is like, Iron Man, and here he is, saying that you’re supposedly in the A crowd?

“See! I told you!” Pete says. You blink, face still contorted in confusion.

“But… Why? I’m nothing special. You’re… well, you know…” You were let in on the Spiderman secret just before the blip, when you found one of his web shooters in his backpack. After persistent questioning and knowing he was lying about the answers he was giving you, he finally caved.

“Yeah, but no one knows that. You, however, you’re just, like, the nicest person here. You’ve never met a stranger!” You think, and you guess that’s right. You have a lot of friends, but why would that make you popular?

“I still don’t really see how that would make me popular, but I guess if Flash Thompson says it, it must be true!” You both laugh at that, walking toward your next class together.

With Prom looming just a month away, May offers to take you dress shopping, since your mom was lost in the Battle of New York all those years ago. Your dad, AKA, your best friend, simply nods, knowing this is out of his scope of expertise as a humble engineer, so he just hands you his credit card and tells you to have fun when May comes to pick you up. You go to lunch, then you scour all of the dress shops, trying on dress after dress, each getting a little closer to what you want, but it isn’t until you’re on your last store of the day, the sun beginning to set, that you find it. May calls you over with a gasp. “Look at this one, Y/N! You need to try this on!” She holds up the heavy gown, layers and layers of tulle making up the ballgown skirt. It has long sheer sleeves with applique lace that comes down the bodice to a rhinestone belt, and it looks like it would match perfectly with the red on Peter’s spider suit. You giggle as you take it from May’s hands, gasping at its beauty, both of you giving an excited squeal before you go to try it on.

The weeks drag after that. You’re so excited for Peter to see your dress. You imagine the look on his face as you come down your stairs, like the one he gave you on your first date, when you both knew what would happen between you was nothing short of true love. You bide your time at home trying different hairstyles and makeup looks, sometimes wearing them when you go see Peter once he gets home from Avenger’s Tower, just to see his reaction. He ogles at you like you’re his sun, moon, and stars, of course, and even after being with him for almost 2 years, you still feel butterflies swarm in your abdomen.

You won’t even tell him the color of the dress, knowing May will make sure everything is taken care of so you match without giving too much away. “Come on, Y/N! Just a hint?! I’m dying over here!” He cries during the discussion at dinner with your dad. You simply shake your head.

“I told you, I want it to be a surprise! May knows what it looks like, so once she gets your tie and our flowers ordered, you’ll know, but I’m not budging!” You shake your head lightly, the smirk on your lips making him groan in dissatisfaction. Your dad chuckles as he picks at his dinner, his smile showing just how happy he is that you have Peter to keep your days bright.

“Fine! Then I won’t tell you how we’re getting there! And let me tell you, it’s gonna be great!” Peter huffs, eyeing you intently as he baits you into caving. You simply nod, your smile cool. You assume his mentor has something to do with it. From the way Peter talks about Tony, it sounds like he’s found a new father figure in him.

“Okay. I’m fine with waiting. It’s just another week anyway!”

“Uuugh,” Peter groans, finally giving up as you and your dad both giggle at his immaturity.

The next day at school, there are posters of you and, get this, Flash lining the halls, both of you with photoshopped crowns, and in big golden letters, VOTE FLASH AND Y/N, YOUR HIGH SCHOOL ROYALTY. You simply roll your eyes. It looks like he ripped the picture of you from your art club yearbook picture from last year. As you pass people in the halls, they all wish you well, promising to vote for you, but… maybe not Flash. You giggle as you thank them, telling them that you had nothing to do with the posters, but you really appreciate their kindness. Peter catches up to you at lunch, and he smacks his tray down next to yours, looking dejected.

“Apparently people think you’re going to prom with Flash since you guys are all over those posters he made,” He grumbles, taking a bite of his tuna sandwich. You scoff.

“Yeah, that tracks. I’m honestly a little surprised he hasn’t actually asked me. I guess he knows I’d shoot him down. I’ve got the real king here, anyway.” You nudge Peter’s shoulder with yours before leaning to kiss his cheek. He rolls his eyes, but still, there’s a smile forming as he chews and swallows his lunch. “I’ll talk to him and ask him to take down the posters if it bothers you. If I’m as popular as you say, he might just listen.” Peter makes a face and shakes his head.

“No, you don’t need to do that. Not that you need the posters to win or anything, but people have been talking all day about voting for you. I really want you to win. I don’t know. I guess so I can live the high school dream through you? If that makes sense?” You laugh, tucking your arm under his as you lay your head against his shoulder.

“Okay, honey, if you’re sure. But just know, no matter who gets crowned as prom king or queen, I’m still gonna be dancing with you all night.” Peter smiles at the thought, his heart leaping in his chest.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Peter hums, his lips pressing gently to your hairline.

“Yeah, I think so, too.”

Your heart pounds as you put the finishing touches on your outfit. Peter is supposed to be here in 10 minutes, and you’re already cursing yourself on deciding to do the full shebang and wear these killer heels, despite better judgement. You slide the earring backing onto the glittering silver drop earrings and pull back to examine yourself one last time. Your hair is hair-sprayed into a solid block of cement, your face feels like it weighs ten pounds heavier with all the makeup, and, of course, the heels are already starting to pinch your toes, but as you look in the mirror after checking your teeth for lipstick one last time, you’ve never felt more beautiful.

You let out a deep breath and pack your purse with essentials to bide your time. Phone, wallet for post-prom snacks, lipstick, perfume, and your charger, all packed and ready to go. Your dad is letting you stay with Peter after so you also grab your bag with a change of clothes and everything you need to return your face and hair back to normal after the night’s over. You check again, then once more over everything to make sure you’re not forgetting anything, and then you hear the doorbell ring, making your heart leap in your chest.

You get your things and set the duffel of clothes at the top of the stairs. You’ll ask your dad to grab it for you before you go. It might sound silly, but you don’t want it to ruin the big reveal. You listen as your dad greets Peter at the door, and they talk briefly about how exciting it all is, and then you hear your dad call for you up the stairs.

“Y/N! Peter’s here!” Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Okay! I’m coming!” You respond. You smooth your dress out and begin walking carefully down the stairs, bracing yourself on the railing so you don’t trip over your shoes. As you round the corner on the landing, you see Peter and your dad talking at the door and then both of them look to you. Your eyes focus immediately on Peter, who looks the best you’ve ever seen him. He’s polished in a perfectly tailored suit, shoes shiny, and his hair is styled to perfection, no doubt with the help of May. He doesn’t smile at you, not at first. He just takes you in, his mouth slightly agape at the sight of you. You feel a heat rush to your cheeks, your heart beating even faster. Then a smirk breaks out on his lips, and you realize that he must hear your heart with his enhanced senses. You wonder what you look like in his eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes…

Peter extends a hand as you reach the bottom of the stairs and you take it gratefully, your other hand going to lift your skirt as you take the last step to the floor. “Hi,” You giggle. Peter’s smile widens, his grin stretching ear to ear.

“Hi,” He echoes, breathless. You stare at each other a moment as he loses himself in you, but you’re pulled back to earth as your dad coughs, a calculated move to get you to stop ogling at each other. You both chuckle lightly, finally pulling your eyes away.

“Are we gonna get some pictures before you leave? I’m sure May wants some just as much as I do.” The three of you laugh.

“Probably more. It’s all she’s been talking about for weeks. Wants to put one up right on the mantlepiece!” Peter admits. You all laugh again, and then your dad goes to get his camera while Peter addresses the clear plastic box in his hand. He opens it to reveal your corsage, a beautiful bracelet of red roses and baby’s breath. Classic. He also has a matching boutonniere, which you pick up, along with the dangerously large pin you’re supposed to use to fix it to his lapel. You do your best, carefully weaving the point in and out of the fabric and bundle of flowers.

“You look so beautiful. Like a princess.” Peter murmurs, his lips barely grazing the top of your ear as you try to focus on not stabbing you or him with the deadly weapon you’re expected to use to adhere the flowers. Your breath hitches, your brain going fuzzy at the feeling of his warm breath on your ear.

“You clean up pretty good too, Spiderman.” You whisper, trying to keep calm as a hurricane of butterflies jolt through your whole system.

“Is that why we’re wearing red tonight?” He asks as you pull back, examining your handiwork. You smile bashfully.

“I thought paying homage to my favorite superhero would be a fun idea, yeah.” Peter blushes, his cheeks and ears going red. He leans to kiss you, and you feel your lashes flutter against each other as you meet in a tender kiss. You’re just laying your palm to his chest when you hear your dad coming back, so you break. You hope your lipstick hasn’t smudged as he comes back down the hall, waving the camera in his hand triumphantly.

“Sorry I took so long, had to find spare batteries!”

You go outside to take pictures in the golden glow of sunset, and you gasp as you see the stretch limo on the street. You laugh excitedly, clapping your hands together. “Told you it would be great!” Peter exclaims. You go to hug him, both of you laughing as you hear the shutter of your dad’s camera click. You take more photos in front of the limo, then a few by the rose bush in front of your house, then it’s time to go. Your dad brings you your bag, and Mr. Hogan, who you’ve met a few times when he was dating May, graciously opens the door for you and Peter helps you in, shoving handfuls of red tulle behind you.

“Thanks, Happy!” You shout as he closes the door behind you. You and Peter settle in and you take in the lavish car. Snacks and soda line the bar where you’re sure alcohol used to sit, and you giggle, wondering if that was Tony’s idea, or his wife, Pepper’s.

“So what did you have to do to get Tony to let you borrow this?” You muse, picking up a snickers bar and unwrapping it. Peter slides a hand behind his neck.

“Nothing really, just told him I was going to prom with the prom queen. He said if that’s the case, we need to get there in style.”

“Uh-huh. How many times did you beg him?” You snark, a laugh spilling from your lips as you see through the cheap excuse.

“Like five days in a row!” Peter admits. “I had to promise to take off Spiderman-ing for all of Finals Week!”

“Well, I can’t blame him for that,” You shrug, silently thanking Tony for looking out for him.

When you get to the prom venue, there are already people gathered outside, waiting to get in. You see people turning around as you pull up, making noises of excitement at the sight of the car. You feel giddy as Happy comes to the door to open it for you, and Peter gets out first, extending his hand to you. You take it as you get your footing on the pavement, and you pull yourself out with Pete’s help. You hear oohs from the crowd watching and you nibble at your lip, feeling like some kind of movie star at a red-carpet event. Happy nods to you with a small smile as you thank him for driving you, then he promises to be back at 10 to pick you up and bring you home.

You make your way in, and you feel all eyes on you, which is odd. It’s not that you don’t enjoy being the center of attention, but now that you know you have been for a while, it’s a new experience to notice. It’s what helps you feel a bit more confident as you link your arm with Peter’s, both of you walking to find your friends across the crowded dance floor.

You find Ned, Betty, and MJ at a table in the corner near the buffet, and you give hugs and greetings to them as you sit. “Y/N! You look amazing! I love that dress!” Betty gushes, and you curtsy jokingly.

“Thank you! You look great too! I love that color on you!” She’s donning a sleek, icy blue gown that compliments her eyes. Ned is matching, signaling that the on and off again relationship is currently on, and you turn to MJ, who looks bored in her simple black dress and usual worn converse. It looks like she did put on some makeup, though, and it makes her skin look radiant.

“You look beautiful, MJ. I didn’t think you’d actually come to something like this,” You say, sitting down. She gives a shrug and folds her arms.

“I figured I have nothing better to do and I heard they hired a good caterer for this thing.” You nod, accepting the explanation.

“Yeah, I did too. I’ve barely eaten all day, I’m starving!”

“Then let’s go get some food and then we can dance!” Peter interjects, holding out a hand to you. You take it and give a wave to MJ, who gives a half-smile as you go.

As the night goes on, you watch people going to fill out their ballots at the voting booths, and you can’t help but feel nervous. Is it selfish to hope with everything you have that you’ll win? You hope not. Peter does everything he can to keep your attention, hearing your heart race as the clock ticks closer and closer to 9:30, when they’ll be announcing prom court.

You and your friends dance together, though all of you, sans Peter, grow breathless after a few songs. You even manage to get MJ on the dance floor when the Cupid Shuffle comes on, but she retreats back to your table before the music ever trails off completely, content being a watcher and protector of your and Betty’s bags. At 9:28, you and Peter make your way to the small stage at the front of the crowd, waiting for the MC to come and announce prom king and queen. You feel yourself fidgeting with the tulle on your dress, your other hand squeezing Peter’s as the MC makes his way up the steps with an envelope in his hands.

“No matter what happens, you’re still my queen, Y/N,” Peter whispers. You smile at him and lean to give him a kiss, thankful for his unwavering support.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I am here with the results to our prom court vote!” Everyone cheers, and you cross your fingers as you chew the inside of your mouth. “You voted, and now here he is, your prom king…” There’s a drumroll over the speakers from the DJ as the MC builds the suspense.

“Brad Davis!” You clap nervously as Brad makes his way to the stage. He graciously accepts the plastic crown and sash from the MC. Brad’s an okay guy, you guess. He’s always been nice when you have projects together in history class. Brad gives a whoop and the crowd cheers, then silence falls again as the second name is about to be announced.

“And for your queen, you know her, you love her, it’s…” Another drumroll, “Y/N Y/L/N!” You let go of the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, a squeal leaving you as you turn to give Peter a kiss. He pulls you in as the crowd screams around you and dips you low, one hand on your face, the other supporting your back. Time slows to a standstill for a moment, and it’s just you and Peter, his lips moving with yours deep and slow.

As he pulls you back to stand again, he shouts over the din, “I knew it would be you! I’m so proud of you!” You hold his hand as he helps you to the stage, taking the hand of the MC as you reach the steps, holding your dress with one hand as you walk up. You feel tears pricking your eyes as the room chants your name, and you wave to them all gratefully, spotting the beaming faces of your friends, even MJ, and your love, Peter as you’re crowned and sashed.

“And now, the king and queen will share a dance together!” The MC says, and you and Brad laugh as he takes your hand, helping you down the steps as the crowd divides to give you space. It’s awkward, but still fun as Brad twirls you dramatically, almost to the point that you trip over your feet. But every chance you get, you’re looking at Peter, wishing it was him.

You and Brad bow to each other as the song ends, both of you giggling like school children as you congratulate each other, then you both go back to your own dates. Peter swoops in immediately as you turn to find him, one hand on your waist, the other holding yours. “There’s my girl!” He exclaims, his smile breathtaking under the colored lights.

“There’s my guy!” You respond, the next song is another slow one, the lilting tune floating above you from the big speakers. “I can’t believe I won.” You shake your head in disbelief, but you’re here, the delicate tiara on your head, PROM QUEEN sash draped over your shoulder.

“Well I never doubted it for a second. I seriously would’ve thought this was rigged if you didn’t win.” Peter chuckles. You lay your forehead against his, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I love you so much, you know that?” You murmur. The hand on your waist moves up to your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“I think so,” Peter smiles coyly, “But I think I love you more.” You shake your head at that.

“Not possible,” You refute. Pete gives a shrug.

“Well how about we get out of here and I’ll just show you then?” His lips are so close to yours, and the thought makes you shiver in anticipation.

“I don’t think I’d mind that.” You smile as your lips meet, both of your hands going to the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers gently carding through the short curls. Peter responds, his hands firmly on your hips, like it’s him holding you to the earth and not gravity. It’s perfect. Just you, just Peter, floating through a sea of lights and music.