#also Nick Miller is sort of me

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

epilogue: our love is going gold

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 17.2k (but she's done. like done, done.)

warnings (**SPOLIERS**): NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is now 10 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), established relationship, engagement, marriage, alcohol, eating, very lovey romantic, polite southern manners, spanish/spanglish cause joel is latino, soft joel, domestic joel, WIFE!! GUY!! JOEL!!, discussion of parenting, step-parenting, struggles with conceiving, negative self talk and image, smut, soft dom joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), joel worships the ground his wife walks on and also her body, praise, unprotected p in v (they're tryna get pregnant, not you!), breeding kink, sort of nursing kink? joel is briefly obsessed with your tits and makes comments, mating press, a flash of cumplay, the BRIEFEST mention of daddy kink, joel really wants to give his wife a baby, pregnancy, a mention of giving birth, girl dad joel, CUTE FAMILY!!!

also this is the song mentioned <3 it's a fave of mine and i think very joel & mari

a/n: this has been a doozy but happy to hand this over to y'all. this is simply what i envisioned for their future, and if you had different thoughts, i would love to hear them! <3 or if you have any headcanons for their life beyond this, drop them in my inbox! this fic and these characters are my children and i love them very much. will probably keep them alive somehow. and thank you to everyone who's read this series, you are all so special to me and have sincerely made me feel so much more confident in my writing!

as always, thank you thank you thank you @northernbluess for beta-ing, couldn't do it without you! and this extremely long ending is dedicated to el and kiwi @kiwisbell you are my hype people fr

i feel like i need to say like signing off on h&h now lol so this is me doing that & closing the book!

** this is set over three additional summers post-main story **

first of many

After the holidays, it was an easy decision to move in with Joel and Sarah. The Millers had joined your family for their annual, lowkey celebrations; spending Christmas Eve with Joel and Sarah, it was a treat to witness him playing Santa after Sarah had gone to bed. Only a few curses under his breath putting together the new dollhouse she’d requested from St Nick, the other presents from her father, and your gifts to her carefully wrapped under the tree. The two of you split the plate of cookies while watching A Christmas Story, you and Joel taking turns mumbling the words to the iconic scenes under your breaths.

The next morning, your heart was overwhelmed with the love that you hold for this family that has welcomed you in and made you a part of it. Sarah gifted you a photo frame that she’d made at school, painted with flowers and butterflies, and a photo of the three of you from the trip to the apple orchard you’d taken that fall. Once Sarah was occupied with her new treasures, gifts were exchanged between you and Joel. Requesting to gift first, you stand up from the couch and tiptoe around Sarah and her new dolls sprawled across the floor to the front hall closet and retrieve a brand new, custom acoustic guitar. 

Sitting back with him, guitar placed into his hands and his eyes combing over it, his lips part with a gasping breath when he notices in the inlay of ‘SME’ for his daughter’s name, Sarah Elena.

“The old one in the corner of your room was lookin’ a little worse for wear, and I hadn’t seen you play it in a while…” you trail off in the silence, waiting for his response, “Do you—do you like it? Is it the right kind? I tried to match it the best I could to the one upstairs.”

“Oh, Mari baby, I love it. It’s beautiful, thank you so much…” He shakes his head, taking another sighing exhale in appreciation as he turns it in his hands. “Hadn’t played the other one 'cause it wasn’t quite playable anymore. Restrung it a few too many times, the wood was warped from some water damage. The perils of having a toddler around years ago. This is…it’s perfect, Mariposa.”

You beam, shifting in your seat and anxiously fiddling with your fingers. Joel sets the instrument down next to him carefully, turning back to you. He leans in, kissing you delicately and whispering another ‘thank you’ against your lips, “Guess m’gonna have to serenade you now.”

“Oh, yeah, J. I expect one nightly,” you playfully respond, kissing him again before he pulls away, his turn to stand from his place on the couch. 

He wanders over to the tree, plucking the last wrapped gift from under it, and returning to sit next to you. Handing over the small rectangular box, you unwrap it gingerly, glancing at Joel’s knee bouncing. You gently set your hand on it, smiling at him which he returns, biting his lip to channel his jittery energy. Opening the box, you’re met with the shining gold links of a beautiful charm bracelet. Your eyes wander over the small icons, feeling your chest tighten with love as you take them all in: A small ‘S’ with a ruby-colored stone at each end of the curve, a matching ‘J’ with a sapphire embedded into it right next to the ‘S; there’s a tiny gold key, nearly identical to the one he had given to you those three summers before for your job that started it all; a tiny set of longhorn antlers that is reminiscent of home; a lighthouse that reminds you of one you visited while living in Boston, a day you had documented and sent Joel some of the photos in the mail to recap your time. It was a day you had been happy there, and it made your heart ache that he remembered that. The last charm on the bracelet is a butterfly, bejeweled with kelly green stones, the color of the leaves that you told him were your favorite years ago. The ache in your chest is worked out of its knot with Joel’s hand at your back, a gasping breath as you blink back tears.

Clearing your throat, your watery smile has a flash of worry crossing his eyes before you hand him the bracelet you’ve taken out of the box, lightly requesting, “Will you put it on for me?”

Joel nods shyly, taking the dainty piece in his hands, and hooking the clasp around your wrist after a few tries. You both admire it, your smile growing wider and his matching yours.

“Merry Christmas, Mari baby. I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, J. I love you, too.”

Now, months later, the bracelet on your wrist glints in the sun as you hold onto Sarah’s hand, letting her lead you around the atrium filled with butterflies. Spending the day at the same farm you three had visited summers ago, and had kept up with the tradition with the summers following, you picked an abundance of strawberries, wandered through the nature paths, and now ending the day at the youngest Miller’s favorite spot.

Sarah wildly points out the different types of butterflies, the encyclopedia book of the insect’s species that you had gifted her for Christmas coming in handy for today as she reads the small signs of each patterned, winged creature, adding in her tidbits that she remembers. A grin stays plastered on your face as you listen intently, paying no mind to Joel trailing behind the two of you.

Giving your lessons on the flora that you know of in the gardens, Sarah listens to you as well. Stopping in front of the small waterfall, surrounded by tropical plants and flowers, the two of you go back and forth in fun facts about plants and butterflies, unaware as Joel saddles up behind you. Sarah glances back over her shoulder and grins, the expression reading as knowing and mischievous. Before turning around, you start to warn Joel behind you playfully, “J, if you’re even thinking about pushing me or splashing me, I will ki—”

Your breath catches when you finally face him, eyes dropping to meet his; the backpack he’d be adamant about carrying all day is at his feet, unzipped, and in his hands is a small, forest-green velvet box. Joel rests on one knee, a soft but bright, devoted smile on his face.

“Oh my god…” It comes from your lips as a whisper, your free hand reaching up to cover your mouth while the other continues to tether you to Sarah at your side, her small giggle hitting your ears as Joel glances at her, sending her a wink.

Eyes back on your face, Joel clears his throat, adjusting himself on his knee as he takes a deep breath, “I have been trying to figure out exactly what to say, and I can’t seem to find quite the right words that tell you exactly how I feel about you. I love you, so much, Mariposa. The second you entered my life, that time I saw you for only seconds in your backyard while I was touring the house, I knew I had to meet you. And then the first time I met you, well, I knew that you were who I needed.

“I’ve been walking around blind, trying to figure out life for years, and moving next door to you, that was the last piece falling into place. You have made my life, and Sarah’s life, a million times better. And while these past few years haven’t been picture-perfect for us, we made it through, and I know that we can take on anything that comes our way. Eres el alma más hermosa que he conocido, y soy muy afortunada de tenerte. (You are the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and I am so lucky to have you.) I’ve been waiting for years to do this, Mari baby, and I can’t have any more summers pass by without you being mine. Tú eres mi media naranja. (You’re my soulmate.) I love you. Te amo, Mari. You’re my soulmate, sweet girl, and I can’t take another day without the promise of forever. Will you marry me, Mariposa?”

Without hesitation, you nod your head frantically, your tears that started falling as soon as Joel started speaking continue to flow. You uncover your mouth, squeezing Sarah’s hand and sharing a smile with her before she takes her hand away.

“Yes, oh my gosh, Joel…of course, of course, I’ll marry you. I love you so much, J.” You squat down in front of him, left hand trembling as you hold it out for him. He carefully takes the ring from the box, and Sarah, ever the helper, takes it from the spot where it rests on his knee for safekeeping. The delicate gold band slips onto your finger, embellished with clusters of tiny gems and centered with an emerald cut diamond. It’s perfectly you, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face as you watch Joel settle the piece of jewelry on your finger. Both of you take a deep breath, admiring the sight before your eyes find each other’s again, matching expressions of complete admiration. Your hands find his cheeks, pulling him in for a tenderly passionate kiss, attempting to breathe all the love in your chest into the kiss and his heart. Joel pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours for a quiet moment.

“Thank you, J,” you whisper, and his head tilts with curiosity.

“For what, baby? I think I should be thankin’ you for sayin’ yes to me.” He chuckles and rubs his thumb at the back of your hand, skimming next to the band of the new addition.

“Everything. For not giving up. Your patience when I was still finding my way back to you. How effortlessly you’ve welcomed me into your life and your family…” Cheating your body away, one hand reaches out to pull Sarah into the small huddle, reuniting the moment within your unit of three, “I just—I can’t wait for all my summers to be spent with you both.”

“I can’t wait either. This is gonna be the first of many, Mari baby.”

And the two of you really couldn’t wait.

Only a week after Joel was down on one knee, your family was throwing you an engagement party. Tommy, a few of Joel’s close friends from his contracting company, your college friends, and neighbors were all in attendance to celebrate the two of you, and it was a big to-do. Drinks flowing, music playing, and food was being passed around. Everything under the warmth of a Texas night and the strung lights across the stretch of your parents’ backyard. Joel was glued to your side the entire night, hand on your back or clasped in yours, grabbing your refills and whispering in your ear to make you laugh.

“So…are all of these people coming to the wedding? ‘Cause I can count about half that I have no idea who they are.”

To that, you whispered back, “I don’t know them either, so definitely not. Unless they wanna buy us the most expensive thing on the registry.” Joel laughed, squeezing you closer — if it were even possible — and pressing a kiss to your temple.

Later, once you two were far past tipsy, Joel mumbled against your ear, barely able to get the words out without drunkenly giggling himself, “D’you think Mrs. Clarke is thinkin’ m’the one that got away?”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, bursting out in the middle of the conversation happening around you two, quickly covering your mouth as the lingering hiccups escape, “I think she’s singin’ the blues about you, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was filled with small moments between the two of you; never left alone long enough to have a full conversation on your own. Whispers of love and affection breathed out, fleeting kisses exchanged. It wasn’t until the party was over, everyone dwindled out the door and back to their homes, that you and Joel took a beat to speak to each other in more than one sentence. The early hours of the morning had crept in without anyone quite noticing, and Sarah was knocked out, brought inside to sleep in your old bedroom around 10pm when she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Joel now held her in his arms, her head laying on his shoulder while the three of you walked the short distance home. After your quiet goodnight to Sarah that went unheard by her sleeping self, Joel put her down, taking off her shoes and leaving her undisturbed to sleep in her clothes.

Back in the ensuite of your, now, shared bedroom, you’re lazily getting ready for bed, movements slower and lagging from the alcohol you consumed. Joel stands behind you, facing your reflection in the mirror and giving you a smile as the exhaustion catches up to him.

“You have fun tonight, sweet girl?” His vocal cords rub together in a fry, hands finding their place on your waist and drawing you back into his chest. Littering kisses at the back of your neck, he hums contently before you affectionately shoo him off to brush his teeth while you apply your skincare.

“‘Course I did, J. Spent most of the night with you, how could I not have fun?” You grin at him from in front of your side of the double sinks, gently rubbing in your moisturizer. “Have you given any thought as to when you wanna set a date for?”

Whatever he responds is muffled by the foamy toothpaste, your face twisting in confusion before he leans over and spits out, rinsing his mouth and toothbrush. Standing back up, he rests his hip against the countertop while facing you, shrugging as he smirks slightly, “As soon as possible. Baby, I’d get married to ya in a garbage dump if it meant we could get married right this second. No puedo esperar para hacerte mi esposa. (Can’t wait to make you my wife.) And I know you don’t want that, and I want to make you happy, so whenever you want, Mari. Lo que sea que desees, lo haré realidad. (Whatever you wish for, I’ll make a reality.) But I will say, summer’s kind of our thing.”

A gentle smile stretches across your lips as you step closer, hands coming to rest on his chest and massaging your fingers gently into the muscles there, “Well, how about we do this summer? I mean, I don’t want anything fancy, just something special for us. Thought maybe we could do it here, in our backyard and my parents’. Where we met and fell in love and broke up and fell in love again and—”

“I love that idea, sweetheart. Think it’s perfect for us…” Joel punctuates his work by stealing a kiss, mint and strawberry lip balm melting on his tongue when he deepens it only for a few seconds, “Think we can manage for Labor Day weekend, mi amor?”

Nodding confidently, your hands skate up to his shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss, “I believe we just set our wedding date, Miller.”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

A whirlwind of planning and three months later, you now stand in your childhood bedroom on the second floor of your parent’s house, admiring yourself in the full-length mirror standing in the corner. Your mom had helped you with your hair, a small gold barette holding one side away from your face; your makeup was fairly minimal, fresh, and bright, but nothing too heavy that would melt in the heat that has graced Austin this weekend.

On your wrist is your charm bracelet from Joel, a simple gold locket to match that your father had gifted you the evening before at the rehearsal dinner — it has belonged to his grandmother, and now your grandma wanted you to have it since she couldn’t make the trip down due to her age. It was your ‘something old’ he said, playing into the old traditions that seemed to charm your entire family. 

Your ‘something borrowed’ was a pair of white strappy sandals from your mom, ones that she had worn to her rehearsal dinner when she married your dad. The title of ‘something new’ belonged to the charm hanging off of your wrist that was hand-delivered to you this morning from Tommy, per the request of Joel since you both were getting ready in opposite houses. The gift box unveiled a gold lotus flower, hand painted with deep magenta petals. Inside the lid of the box was a folded note, the words written by your soon-to-be husband in his usual scrawl.

Mi amor,

Got to reading one of your books you leave around about plants, and they were talking about the lotus flower. Made me think of you — since they go back to the murky water each evening and open their blooms at the break of day. You always start fresh, sweet girl, you’re so resilient and strong and pure of heart. No matter what happens, you get through it. And you won’t have to go at it alone, baby. I’m gonna be right there with you through anything.

You make me a better man.

Te amo, mi media naranja.

J

You had to touch up your makeup after having read the note over and over for minutes straight, now fresh faced and eager to get downstairs. One last time in the mirror, you give yourself the once over, smoothing the long, full skirt of your linen dress. The ruched empire bodice lays across your chest, framing your neck with a square shape along with the cap sleeves. Simple, but it feels perfectly you. And now, you were finally on your way to get your something blue: Joel in his navy suit, waiting at the end of the aisle for you.

Everyone’s gathered in their seats, only a crowd of around forty people from your lives occupying the rows, all carefully selected to make the cut. It was easy for Joel, he had three people he wanted there for sure, and well, his daughter didn’t have a choice living right next door, plus with her dad being the groom, and you being the bride. The only chance of a wild card he had was Tommy, but he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning despite the many shots he had the night prior. At the rehearsal dinner of all places.

Dressed and gaffed, he stands at the end of the short aisle after having walked down it hand-in-hand with Sarah, who was donning a lilac dress she picked out with your help and her hair in her natural, bouncy curls. She now sits next to Tommy in the front row, whose new girlfriend Maria is sitting on the other side of him, stealing peeks over the back of the seat to try to catch a glimpse of you at the top of the deck stairs. Joel is doing the same, eyes flickering from scanning over the crowd to tunneling at the opening of the stairs. 

Music starts and it immediately tunes out of his ears, a tingle of excitement radiating from his chest throughout his body. A vision in white, you appear at the stairs with your arm linked to your dad, Mark; he isn’t paying attention to anything but you, captivated by your beauty. His heartbeat kicks up when you walk down, reaching the end of the grassy path between rows of chairs, and stopping for a moment. With the bouquet in one hand, you use the other that was resting on your dad’s arm to give him a short wave that he returns with a grin.

Each step you take brings up tears in his eyes, an overwhelming joy clenching around his heart. A few drop down his cheeks, using one of his thumbs to wipe away the streaks as you give him a gentle smile, speeding up your walk and dragging your dad along with you. The guests laugh at the eagerness, Joel rocking on the balls of his feet as he bites back his wild grin when you finally reach him. Exchanging hugs with your dad, Mark shakes Joel’s hand before clapping him on the back, a sure nod directed to him.

His hand slips into yours naturally, helping you with the last few steps to stand in front of him, exhaling a deep breath. A smile that he can’t wipe off stretches across his face, looking into your eyes as he lifts a hand to wipe his cheeks. You do the same, delicate touch against his skin while your gaze stays trained on his. Beating out of his chest, his heart thumps deeply, the wings of his butterfly fluttering madly in his gut in time with his heartbeat.

“Hey, Mari.”

“Hi, J.”

Everyone settles back in their seats, and your brother stands at the makeshift altar, a carved arbor handmade by Joel over the last few months frames the three of you in front of your guests. You turn to hand off the wildflower bouquet you put together to Sarah, eager to fulfill her responsibility of holding it during the ceremony. She grins, whispering to you loud enough for him to hear when she takes the arrangement.

“You look so pretty, Posey. I’m excited for you to marry Daddy.” Your hand reaches for her curls, squatting down in your dress to address her at eye level, unconditional love shining in your eyes as you look at his daughter.

“You look beautiful, Sare Bear. I’m so excited, too.” Other words are exchanged only between the two of you, a hug shared before Sarah retreats to her chair next to Tommy and you stand up and take Joel’s hands.

Chris ambles through an introduction, recollecting his version of events, as well as both of your sides, for how your relationship has progressed. Humor was laced throughout, laughter bubbling over throughout the crowd of guests, and especially between the two of you when you shared knowing expressions.

The ceremony moves quickly, with no religious elements to extend the length, simply secular. Before he knows it, Chris is reaching the vows, allowing a moment for Tommy to present the rings to each of you, clapping a hand on his brother’s back.

“Don’t fuck this one up, brother. Posey’s a good ‘un. Way too good for you—”

Joel cuts him off with a mumble and an eye roll, “I know all of this, Tommy, but thank you for the reminder.”

Chris directs Joel to go first, a deep inhale and extended exhale fills the air as you give his hands a reassuring squeeze. He flashes a smile at you before he drops one of your hands, finishing in his inside jacket pocket for the small slip of paper.

“I tried to memorize this, but we both know that wasn’t gonna happen…” he huffs out a nervous chuckle, reading over the page before his eyes come back to you, a patient and gentle grin on your face, “I genuinely hope you know how much I love you. I try to show you, to tell you, to make you feel it through osmosis every day, but I truly hope you can feel it. Through all that we have been through together and on our own, I have always had you in my mind. I thought about you every day you were away, and all I was hoping for was your happiness. I cannot tell you what it means that you have found your happiness with me, but I will be thanking whatever forces are out there for bringing us back together. Our roads may have been bumpy, and they may be in the future, but I’m so thankful to have you in my passenger seat. Cause we both know you don’t like to drive.” Joel winks and the crowd of guests laugh.

“I never want to let go. And I’m never going to let you go, Mariposa, I’m in it for the long run.  Eres todo para mí. (You are everything to me.) You are everything I have ever asked for, hoped for, didn't think I deserved. You are…un alma tan pura (such a pure soul) and I don't know how you ended up with me, but I'm countin’ my luck every second of every day. I love you through anything, mi Mariposa, and I cannot wait for our future together, as a family. I’m so happy that you have found a place you belong with Sarah and me, and I feel so lucky that you have chosen me. Te amo, mi Mariposa. Siempre.”

Recovering from your tears, you choke out a small sob that tugs on his heartstrings, tightening his grip on your hand while his brow furrows softly in concern.

“Happy tears, I promise, J. Very happy tears.” Another sob comes with a burst of laughter, a hand of yours fanning your face. Joel reaches up, wiping away the stragglers, careful to not smudge any of your mascara. With a deep breath, you focus back, centered, offering Joel your left hand. He repeats the phrase from Chris, who recites it from his printed-out online ordainment course before slipping the simple matching gold band onto your finger above your engagement ring, ears ringing when he sees the symbol of his love and commitment on your finger, where it will stay for the rest of his time on this Earth.

Next, it was your turn to recite your vows, Chris pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and handed it to you. A giggle slips from your lips, wavering the small folded sheet, “Couldn’t memorize it either. Got too much to say…”

Joel relaxes in his stance, thumb circling the back of your palm as he listens, the butterfly wings fluttering into his chest and up to his head, love overwhelming his nervous system across his body. You clear your throat, looking up from the wrinkled white sheet, “I didn’t know that one summer spent at home would completely send me on a whole new life path, but looking back, I am eternally grateful that I wanted to mooch off my parents for as long as possible. That first summer, I fell hard and fast, and despite the obstacles, my love continued to root deeper inside of me and grow out new branches with every memory we made together. I am so lucky to have been welcomed so easily into the Miller household, and I cannot imagine my life with you or Sarah there right next to me. You both have brought so much into my life and thanks to you, J, I feel like I have truly found myself. 

“I was always searching for what I was meant to do, who I was meant to be, and what I would leave behind in my life. And while I went out searching everywhere, the answer was my next-door neighbor. I am meant to be your person, I was meant to care and love and create a life with you, and your wonderful daughter, and I know I will leave behind all my love for you and our family behind. My success does not need to be measured by the reach of my impact, but by how deeply I love you. That is all that matters to me, to make you feel loved and supported and to know how incredible you are. You mean the world to me, and I love Sarah as if she were my own; both of you are my best friends and I could not do this life without you. I am so excited to spend the rest of my days, and the rest of my summers with you, J. I love you. Forever.”

The same routine goes for you, slipping a gold band around Joel’s left ring finger. He flexes with the new accessory on his hand, admiring it before he looks at you, a wide and wild grin crossing his face as he listens as Chris starts to ask him that very special question, “Joel, do you ta—”

“Absolutely I do. No question.”

Laughter rises from the attendees, and you, playfully roll your eyes. Chris nods shortly, chuckling as he turns to address you with the same question. He states your name, inquiring, “Do you ta—”

“Of course, I do. Only been waitin’ years for this to happen.” 

Joel laughs, shaking his head as he mumbles a sweet agreement, “You and me both, baby.”

Chris drops the papers he was reading from next to him on the grass, clasping his hands together, “Well, that made it damn easy for me. With the power vested in me by apparently the state of Texas, but who really knows, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now y’all can kiss finally.”

A hand presses against the small of your back, pulling you into his chest as he folds down, latching your lips to his in a deep kiss, all of his love pouring into the moment. It takes restraint to not take it further in front of everyone, your intoxicating taste drawing him in and quenching a perpetual thirst he has. You lean back first, fingertips digging into his shoulders to hold him off as you whisper, “Gotta keep some decorum until tonight, Mr. Miller.”

“Hard to do that with you, Mrs. Miller,” he rasps back, matching blindingly bright grins across your faces as you right yourself, turning to face your guests as your brother loudly announces.

“For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”

With the low-key, intimate wedding that you both had planned together, there was no real formal separation of the ceremony and reception. Instead, everyone wandered over to the backyard of Joel’s home, which was now yours, too. There were rented tables set up with chairs around, no seating chart, and a checkered dance floor set up in the middle of the lawn. Lights have been strung from his deck to the tree at the back of the property line that holds Sarah’s tire swing, some lanterns strewn about to add more light as the sun sets in the later evening. 

The family-favorite restaurant in the city that the three of you have frequented, even as friends, catered the meal, and your parents, ever so prepared, had stocked up all summer with booze. Your dad plays pretend bartender, getting your now-husband behind the tablecloth-covered folding table and pouring heavy drinks and somehow heavier shots. By sundown, everyone was liquored up enough to cheer for you both to have a first dance, chanting their request over and over.

Joel looks at you from his spot next to you, eyebrows raising in question. His hand at your back draws you closer, starting to sway to whatever song is playing as he grins with a looseness to him, relieved to have you as his for good and relaxed from the alcohol in his blood. “C’mon, Mari baby, I wanna dance with you. M’wife. I got the perfect song.”

“Okay, okay, you go tell Chris what song you want and see if he’s got it on his iPod.” 

You push Joel along, giggling to yourself as he shuffles over to Chris, the makeshift DJ for the evening. Joel leans in, talking in your brother’s ear over the music currently playing. They exchange a smile and nod, Joel laying a hand on his shoulder and shaking it affectionately. His beer gets abandoned on the nearest surface, giddily running over to you and taking your hand. Impatiently, he pulls you to the center of the dance floor, and Tommy intercepts your drink before it sloshes all over the front of you, huffing out a disbelieving breath as you continue to drag behind Joel.

Your husband turns you in his arms, one hand finding your back as the other lifts your joined ones toward his shoulder, elbows bent. Everyone else clears the dancefloor as an upbeat guitar riff sounds out of the speakers surrounding the dancefloor, the bright drums kicking in as Joel starts to shuffle the two of you around the dancefloor, a swing to your movements again.

The familiar lyrics of Orleans’ Still the One that Joel has sung to you many times over the last year are recited right back to you, making you reminisce about the time you were driving in the car to pick up Sarah from camp, a rare afternoon that both of you had off together. The song had come onto Joel’s favorite classic rock station, perking him up in his seat as he turned the volume dial up.

“Oh, Mari baby, this is such a great song.”

Not as familiar with it, you listen, giggling as he sings along with his words pointed at you, and you had to admit, they were pretty sickly sweet. Ever since then, Joel got into the habit of singing it to you, learning to play it after he received his new guitar from you at Christmas.

Dancing with him now, under the sticky heat of the tail end of Texan summer, surrounded by family and friends, he makes you feel as if it’s only the two of you again like it was for every other moment before with this same song.

In your ear, he sings along only for you, pulling away and twirling you as y’all take over the entire dancefloor with how free and loose you’re playing it. “You’re still the one that makes me laugh…still the one that’s my better half…we’re still havin’ fun and you’re still the one.”

At the next chorus, you join him in singing along, laughing at his excitement, both of you singing along louder. The song reaches the guitar solo, and Joel takes both of your hands, swinging you out from his chest before pulling you back in; he spins you to cross your arms in front of you, and your back to his chest before twirling you out. On the last line, when the final word is dragged out, he wraps his arms around you, spinning both of you around until the final chord strikes, setting you down and chests heaving to catch your breaths. Wide smiles still find your open mouths, cheers and whistles from the guests gathered around the dancefloor, now filling the checkered floor as the next song plays.

Breathless, Joel grins madly, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly before asking, “Think we did pretty damn good for unplanned, don’t you, Miller?”

“Damn right, we did, Miller.”

The rest of the evening was all the same, a night spent with your closest family and friends all celebrating the two of you and your love. Both you and Joel shared a dance with Sarah separately, relishing in her unbridled joy and Joel comforted his daughter when she shed a few tears about how happy she was. Your dad pulled you for a short jaunt around the dancefloor, and Joel asked your mom for a dance, which she accepted happily as a stand-in for his mom.

More drinks flowed into glasses and out of bottles, your shoes kicked off and Joel’s jacket and tie discarded onto the back of a chair somewhere. Your cheeks ached from how much you were smiling and laughing the whole time, a weight lifted, the promise of forever with your favorite person now on its way to being a reality.

You both ceremoniously cut the small single-tiered cake that your mom ordered, serving the slice on a plate. Grabbing a piece with your hands, you cheers it with Joel’s, watching as his went into his mouth and laughing as yours went across his cheek. He feigned shock, shaking his head as he looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, taking a step closer. A turn on the ball of your foot directs you in an attempt to get away; failing miserably, misstepping from your level of drunkenness, Joel catches you in his arms. Turning you back around to face him, he steals a purposefully sloppy kiss, buttercream smearing against your lips and chin, the taste of vanilla coating your tongue as it melts into the taste of Joel, whiskey, beer, and sugary sweetness from the dessert.

At the very end of the night, most guests in cabs home or retreat to their homes down the street, it’s left to your closest people. The last song of the night is announced by Chris, the same song that has come up again and again for the two of you trilling over the speakers. Everyone dances and sings along to American Pie, the perfect cyclical moment for the two of you, and the closing moment of your summer. Sarah dances with the two of you, laughing as Joel twirls her around, infectious smiles on their faces. 

Your heart grows in your chest, nearly to the point of bursting as you take a step back in your mind, taking in all of the moment as it surrounds you. In the backyard of your new house, the next chapter of your life starts with Joel and Sarah; right next door is your childhood home, full of love and memories with your parents and brother. Even through the hardships, these places and people have never stopped feeling like home.

The song finishes with a flourish, Joel tucking you into his chest after he scoops Sarah into his arms with a soft groan. Sarah lays her head on her dad drowsily and he presses a kiss to her forehead, mirroring the same on yours; a mumble against your skin is barely heard by you, his drawl exaggerated by the liquor, “Mi Mariposa y mariposita. My lil’ Bug. Love my girls so much.”

Tommy slides sleepy Sarah into his arms from Joel after you two say goodnight to her, the younger Miller brother already prepared the arrangement for her to stay at his on the night of your wedding. You reassure her the promise to meet at Waffle House in the morning, which will likely be the afternoon with the state of the adults. Maria, the designated driver, and Tommy, much closer to sober than drunk than you were expecting, send another congratulations your way before they’re off to the car with Sarah.

After the necessary sweep of cleaning is done between you two and your immediate family, food, drink, and lanterns gathered, they part ways, taking everything back to theirs to deal with in the morning along with striking down the tables, chairs, and dancefloor. In the quiet of the early morning hours, you and Joel stand with your arms around each other, swaying gently. Cheek to chest, Joel’s voice rasps from overuse, vibrating your ear pressed against him, “Was it what you wanted, sweet girl?”

“Everything and more, J. I loved it,” you say as you pull your head away, tilting your chin to look into his eyes, “And I love you, m’husband.”

“I love you more, m’wife.” He shakes his head, biting a smile back, “Don’t think m’ever gonna get tired of callin’ you that, Mari.”

“Me neither. Gonna be callin’ you my husband instead of usin’ your name,” you flirt as your smirk grows and he wiggles his eyebrows, hand drifting down to the curve of your ass.

“Guess we better test that theory, baby.” He grins as he bends his knees, lifting you over his shoulder. His other hand rests on your ass to balance you, your hands pressing against his lower back as you shriek slightly from the initial shock. “Want the whole neighborhood to know m’your husband now. Even if they weren’t invited, so you better be loud, m’gorgeous wife.”

He walks you both up the stairs and through the backdoor, your snort echoing in the quiet of the night, pulling out the ol’ faithful from the early days with him, “Yes, sir.”

second nature

“What do you think about getting a dog?” you ask from your seat on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a book in your lap. Joel pops his head out from the en-suite, brow quirked as he continues to towel off his hair and laugh softly.

“Can’t say I’ve thought about it, darlin’.” He disappears again, hanging his towel on the back of the door before coming back out of the bathroom with a clean pair of boxers on, washed up from his long day on-site. “Have you been thinking about getting a dog?”

A sheepish grin stretches across your face, shrugging your shoulders as Joel gets into bed. He matches your position, leaning back against the headboard and turning his head toward you. He’s intrigued. If he wasn’t, he’d tell you that you could talk about it more in the morning, and then he would give you his honest opinion in the light of day. Never wanting to start a silly argument before bed, always attempting to keep the peace.

Which made him great at compromising. To what you wanted in the first place.

“I’ve been thinking it would be nice for Sarah. Like something to learn responsibility — teaching her to feed it on schedule and take it for walks and fill the water bowl.”

“Yeah, it’ll teach her that I’ll take on all those responsibilities when she gets bored of it,” your husband snorts at his own comment, making you roll your eyes playfully and scoot closer.

“Oh, c’mon, J. Don’t you think it would be fun to have a dog around? We wouldn’t even need to get a puppy if you think it’s too much. But I work at home nannying baby Amelia so I’d be around all day and then when Sarah gets home from school or camp, she can take him or her for a walk. And then feed it before you even get home. Oh! Or you could take the dog to work with you! How cute would that be, you could train him to grab your tools for you.” 

A contagious smile brightens your face in the low lamplight, one that Joel can’t help but mirror on his own face. The eagerness is evident in your expression and your voice, and the proposition doesn’t seem like it would be too difficult of an adjustment. Shaking his head at your suggestions, he laughs quietly while reaching a hair up to smooth your hair away from your face.

“Are you gonna be the one to teach it what all the different screwdrivers are?” 

An excited gasp exhales and you scramble to straddle Joel’s lap, “Wait, are you serious? You’re actually okay with getting a dog?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean back to look at his face. His hands find the curve where your thighs melt into your ass, squeezing gently. Always handsy.

“Yeah, baby, we can get a dog.” Joel groans dramatically when you pull yourself tight against him, hugging him while on hand rubs back and forth at the base of your spine. “I’ve got some conditions though.”

Unraveling from his neck, you stay perched in his lap, nodding fervently. “Anything. Whatever you want, if it means we get a dog.”

“Oh, anything?” he teases with another squeeze of your bum, laughing when you shoot him a look.

“Not what I meant, Miller. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Can’t help it with you, sweet girl. My mind’s always in the gutter around you.” The sentiment is punctuation with a tender kiss to your lips and one to your forehead. Calloused palms skate along your bare thighs, humming contently, “Conditions are: has to be a big dog. Don’t want one of those little white dogs or like something that’ll break if we have babies and they’re a little rough with it.”

The forethought he has for your future children warms your heart, and you agree immediately, “Deal. Didn’t want a little dog anyways. What else?”

“Gotta fence in the backyard. I don’t mind putting in a gate for us and your parents to easily go back and forth through, but I don’t want the chance of the dog gettin’ out when we’re all outside.”

“Totally understandable. I’ll even help you install the fence,” you offer proudly.

“That’s real sweet, Mari baby, thank you. You don’t gotta lift a finger though, I’ll bring some of the guys over and pay a little extra and we’ll get it done in a day, no problem.”

“Alright, so big dog, fence. Anything else you’d like to negotiate, Mr. Miller?” you mock a formal tone, turning your nose up. Joel laughs, tightening his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Kisses press into your neck and along your jaw, pausing inches away from your lips as he makes his final request.

“Dog sleeps in Sarah’s room or downstairs. I like our privacy.” He smirks before kissing you deeply, easily flipping you onto your back and hovering above you. Your legs hook around his waist and he raises his eyebrows, “That all sound fair to you, Mariposa?”

“Absolutely it does. Guess we’re getting a dog, ri—” You’re cut off by his lips on yours again, pressing you further into the mattress with his body weight.

“Let’s save the rest of this for the morning,” Joel mumbles against your skin as he trails his mouth down your neck to your collarbone, “‘Cause right now, I think I’d rather get some pussy.”

He doubles over in laughter at his own joke, forehead pressing against your chest as his shoulders heave. Your fingers comb into his hair, unable to fight quiet chuckles of your own no matter how hard you try to not give him the satisfaction.

“God, you’re such a dork.”

The clock rolls to 3pm as you sit in your car, lined up along with parents of campers. Shrills of laughter and screams echo from the bright, primary-colored playground across the way, counselors attempting to corral the kids to lead them out for pick-up. Air conditioning blasts on you as you fan at the back of your neck, exhaling in the sweltering Texan heat. It’s only the beginning of summer, June barely having turned over, but the temperatures have reached record highs for the year already.

Your stepdaughter. The thought still makes you smile months on, the dynamic between the two of you falling naturally into a closer, more nurturing relationship. Little acknowledgments from Sarah have made your heart sing over the days; routinely saying goodnight to you along with Joel, asking you for permission to go play outside, seeking you out nearly as much as Joel when she has had a nightmare. The pair of you have built routines of your own before bed, you making a promise to Sarah to read with her and to show her your favorite books from when you were her age.

A few nights ago, Sarah had retreated with you to her room, at least thirty minutes before her bedtime to get in another chapter of Matilda by Roald Dahl. The main character reminded you of Sarah’s sweet and spunky personality, and you were so excited that she fell in love with the story and its characters as quickly as you did when you read it for the first time.

Sat up against her headboard, Sarah laid back in your arms and cracked open the novel where her bookmark stuck out, started to read aloud to you in the low lamplight. Mindlessly, you played with her hair as you listened to her confidently recite the words from the page. The day caught up to you, the peaceful moment pulled a yawn from your lungs. Sarah’s words slowed down, her eyes slowly blinking until they closed, which was your queue to slip the book from her hands and mark the spot, and laid it on her nightstand.

When you tried to slip out from behind her to leave her to sleep soundly, she stirred, mumbling the sweetest, “Will you stay for a little bit, Posey?”

And you had no choice but to oblige her request. After getting comfortable next to her, Sarah curled into your side and you pressed a kiss to her forehead, continued to play with her hair to soothe her back to sleep.

What you hadn’t realized was that you also drifted off in her twin bed with her, the lamp still on. Joel was watching TV downstairs, waiting for you to retreat down the steps as you do every night, but no sign of you after an hour had him standing up to go searching. It was quiet when he reached the top of the stairs, no telling giggles or loud whispers to give the two of you away. 

He pushed open the cracked door of Sarah’s bedroom, and was met with a sight that squeezed his heart tight, a sigh exhaled from his lungs. You tucked right next to his little one, and both slept deeply. Without disturbing your rest, he tiptoed over to the nightstand, tugged the blanket up over both of you before he hovered above the bed to press a gentle kiss to each of your foreheads. 

Lamp clicked off, he whispered to your unconscious ears, “G’night, girls. Love you two.”

It was a few hours before your usual alarm when you’d woken up, sore from the small space and glanced around the dark room to discover you had fallen asleep next to Sarah. Carefully slipped out from the covers, you tucked her back in and padded down the hall to your bedroom where Joel was sleeping, a soft snore came from him as he’d starfished out on the mattress. You gently shook him half awake to move him, and he groaned softly at the disruption before he tugged you into his chest and pressed a drowsy kiss to your shoulder.

“Was jus’ too cute to wake you up, Mari baby. My Mariposa and my lil’ Bug…” He hummed sleepily into your skin, hand gently rubbed circles in your lower belly while your eyes close, desperate for those last few hours of slumber. “Makes me so happy.”

“Me too, J. M’so, so happy she’s that comfortable with me. My baby best friend. And you’re my big baby best friend…” You breathed out an airy giggle and Joel protested weakly behind you, a gentle pinch to your side before you both exchanged a quick “love you” and drifted right back off.

The reminder of the sweet moment in the morning from Joel was the highlight of your week.

Climbing out of the car, the engine running and door open, you round the front bumper and stand on the curb to wait. You find her before she finds you, calling out to her to grab her attention, “Hey, sweet pea!”

Her familiar deep brown irises search for the source of your voice, landing on your face and waving excitedly. Sarah checks out with her counselor for the day, scurrying over to you with her backpack bouncing at her shoulders.

“Hi, Posey!”

She collides with your torso, her growth spurts finally starting over the last few months so the top of her head hits just at your chest, and nearly knocks the wind out of you. Patting her back, you laugh and pull her back to look her in the face, “Well, hello to you too, Sare Bear. How was camp today? You ready to go?”

After your greetings, she climbs into the backseat on the opposite side of Amelia’s car seat. You store her bag in the passenger seat with yours before retreating around to the driver’s side, heading off once both of you are secured in your seatbelts.

Flicking your eyes up in the rearview mirror, the two of you catch up, which mostly consists of her recapping the camp activities and excitedly talking about the pool day that’s planned for Friday. As you turn onto your street, Sarah’s brow furrows at the sight of Joel’s truck in the driveway.

“Dad’s home already? That’s weird.”

“Hm, I guess he is. Or maybe he’s just stopped by to grab something he forgot. You know how he is.”

Sarah laughs in agreement as you park your car next to his truck. Both of you get out and head in through the garage, straight into the kitchen where Joel’s standing at the counter eating a sandwich.

“Told you, Sare, stopped by ‘cause he forgot something. Lunch.” You send him a teasing grin as you deposit Sarah’s bag by the door and kick off your sandals. She does the same before wandering past her dad to the fridge in search of a snack. Apple doesn’t fall far.

“What? I can’t happen to drop in hoping to see my wife and my daughter in the middle of my work day? Do I have to have ulterior motives?” Joel speaks, words muffling around the bite in his mouth as you approach the island to stand opposite him.

“Dad, you literally always ask ‘What’s for dinner?’ or ‘What’s cookin’?’ after you say hi to us every day. Your motivation is always to get some food,” Sarah chimes in from in front of the fridge, laughing when Joel looks at her offended.

“See? Even a ten year old recognizes the pattern of behavior,” you confirm your findings, laughing as Joel grumbles to himself and pops the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth.

“Well, for your information, both of you, I am here for an entirely different reason than lunch and to see you two.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking between the two of you with a mischievous smile on his face. “Why don’t y’all go look in the living room and then tell me if you wanna keep makin’ fun of Dad?”

Sarah excitedly starts off toward the living room, giddy about the surprise awaiting her. Your brow furrows and lips twist up in curiosity, eyes staying glued to Joel. He laughs and nods to the other room, a bright smile on his face.

“Better go see, mi amor. Think you’ll want to meet him.” Joel winks, your attention being pulled away when you both hear Sarah gasp from the living room.

“Oh my gosh! Posey, come here! Aw!”

That’s when it registers — the surprise, home in the middle of the day, the smirk, ‘you’ll want to meet him’.

“You didn’t,” you breathe out, head snapping back to Joel as he gives you a wide, genuine grin.

“Go! See for yourself.” He rounds the island and grabs your hips from behind, guiding your steps into the living room. Sarah’s giggles fill the room as the fluffy Bernese Mountain puppy stands in her lap and licks at her face. The small dog’s attention is pulled from her and over to you and Joel entering the room, a tiny bark sounding before he scampers over.

“Joel, oh my god, how did you—when—oh my god…” You kneel down to scoop up the little one into your arms and cuddle it gently, giving it pets before letting him run around again.

“Found someone who had a litter with their family dogs the day after we talked about it. And arranged to pick him up. They said he’s the energetic one, and that he’s gonna be a big boy. Like a hundred pounds.”

“Oh my god, he’s so sweet…thank you, J.” You beam up at him, waving him to bend down and steal a kiss, squeezing his shoulder.

Sarah’s playing with your new family dog, tugging with a rope toy as he fights back with his whole little body. “Thank you, Dad. He’s so cute!”

“What should we name him?” Joel asks as he lowers himself to the floor next to you, smiling as the puppy runs over. The two rough house, Joel easily flipping him over to scratch at his belly as the dog pants happily.

“Any ideas, Sare?” you ask, looking over at her.

She thinks for a moment before looking up between Joel and you, laughing at the tiny pup’s antics, “What about Goose? He just seems like one. Like a silly goose.”

“Goose? I like it, Bug,” Joel confirms, turning to you with a grin, “How about you, Mari?”

Nodding, you look at the new addition to the family, burning bright with happiness at your people’s excitement, “I think Goose is a perfect fit. And now you’re not outnumbered anymore, J. Two girls and two boys in the Miller household.”

Sarah laughs and lays down to cuddle with Goose while Joel moves closer to your side, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your head as he quietly whispers, “Hopefully won’t be too long before the boys are outnumbered again.”

“And what makes you say it won’t be us girls being outnumbered?”

“Call it father’s intuition. Wouldn’t know what to do with a little boy, bein’ a dad to another girl would just be second nature. Plus, I would want a mini Mari running around the world.” Joel presses a kiss to your temple before you turn your head, catching his pursed lips with yours sweetly.

“I’d take anything if it means havin’ a little piece of you forever, J.”

third time lucky

Negative.

A single line, bold and brash, stares back at you. Turning the plastic in your hands, you attempt to read it at different angles, the smallest bit of hope lingering for another line to appear — that it was a trick of the light that was causing your disappointment.

To no avail, the blue strip remains unaccompanied in the small window. A sinking feeling fills your body from your toes up. Everything feels heavier, except your lower stomach. That has never felt as empty as it is now.

Heavy footsteps thump a vibration in the floors, but your focus remains on a speck of dust floating in the light past your field of vision. His presence hangs in the bedroom, milling about, unknowing of what you were up to before he came in from mowing the lawn.

“Hey, baby, m’gonna take a shower and then we’ve got Sarah’s softball game at three. Probably half to leave here around two, her coach asked all the parents to be thirty minutes early for some reason…” Joel’s voice fades in your head as your thoughts start to yell, scream, fight, taunt inside of your mind.

A hard swallow pops your ears, the ringing in them growing louder as your mind begins to wander. The test is left discarded on the bathroom counter, with no heart yet to throw it in the garbage where the others have ended up. Your bare feet shuffle against the rug as you seek out solace under covers, even in the ninety-plus-degree heat. The springs of the mattress shift under your weight, lying on your side facing the opposite side of the bed that lays empty right now. The coverlet is pulled up over you, curling your fingers at the hem tightly, white knuckle grip to release some of the tension that has taken over your mind. You want to scream, cry, yell, question — but what you want most of all is to be able.

Why aren’t you able? Why can’t you do what your body is made to do, what it begs for, what it reminds you that you’ve failed at every month?

Joel stands in observation of you, careful distance, one hand lifting before he drops it. He can guess what this is about. What you’ve left behind in the en-suite. But to confirm his suspicions, he quietly walks into the tiled room, leaving his clean clothes on the counter while he picks up the test.

Negative.

His body sinks, toes up to his head, but with a gaping, empty feeling in his chest. There’s so much room left in his heart, room he is eager to fill with another part of you, another love, another soul to protect. Now, though, all of his emptiness is filled with an ache for you. You’ve been dreaming out loud for a year now, wonderings and visions shared with him late nights and early mornings — Will they have his eyes? You hope so, so that they look like their sister. Who’s ears would they have? What quirks will they pick up from both of you? Who will they grow up to be? How will we be able to contain our love for both of our kids?

Our kids. Joel remembers that night; after you said that, he couldn’t hold himself back, couldn’t contain his love for you. No hesitation that his own was yours now, too. All he wanted was to give you another, to see your belly grow and your smile brighten and your skin glow. He was begging for whatever power was in the universe for that time to take, for both of you to be gifted with what you wished for so often, so deeply.

Desperation. Wavering confidence. Sorrow, worry, dwindling hope. He saw it all over you, time after time when the single line appeared on the plastic sticks.

You and Joel had been trying for a year. A long year. Maybe your desire was too strong, too overpowering. But shouldn’t that be a sign of your love? For each other, for your family? All he wants to do is give you the life you’ve wished for. And yes, all you’ve said you want is a life with him, but anyone who meets you would be able to tell you are meant for a nurturing life. Meant for motherhood.

It was already natural for you, taking a ten-year-old in stride, making her into your best friend — making her a priority over Joel most of the time. He knew it didn’t matter to you that she wasn’t yours, biologically speaking, but he can’t help but want to give you a child that is part you. How badly he wants another piece of you in the world, all of your goodness packaged into the purest soul.

Resigning with a sigh, he sets the test down on the cool countertop and exits the bathroom, a slow stride over to your lying form. Crumpled under covers. With a soft groan, he lowers himself to his knees with cracks popping his joints. His age is starting to show the closer he gets to forty and the more hours he works in the summer weather, another looming factor for him — he’s only known being a young dad. If you two have to wait, what would it be like to be nearly sixty when your kid graduates high school?

Shaking the superficial concerns from his head, his wide palm glides along the quilted fabric draped over your side. He rests his chin on his opposite arm, laying against the mattress close to your pillow. At the coax of his touch, you turn over to face him. Lips pursed in a frown, dried watery streaks being washed anew with your fresh tears, fat and rolling down your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose. They drip off of your skin, dotting and darkening the fabric of the pillowcase underneath you.

Joel leans in, brushing your hair from your face and pressing his lips to your forehead for a lingering kiss. A deep breath draws the smell of your shampoo into his nose, down deep into his lungs where it soothes his aching chest.

“Mari, sweet girl, I know it’s hard. I know we want it so bad, but there’s always another option,” he speaks softly, kindly, delicately, “We can go to that fertility specialist your doctor recommended. I promise, mi amor, we’ll have a baby together.”

He means it, and you can tell he means it. Ever since you had been back together, ever since he confessed his feelings for you — years ago now — he hasn’t made an empty promise. From tiny little things like a pledge to stop on the way home for your favorite ice cream, going to three different stores and adding nearly an hour to his day simply to show up with it for you, to larger, grander oaths, his wedding vows, the promise of building a beautiful life with you.

Emotion is thick in your throat as you attempt to vocalize your concerns. They keep you up at night, with Joel’s warm and expansive hand resting on your stomach right above your womb as he sleeps soundly. He wants it clearly as much as you do; you can feel it each time you’ve tried. How badly he wants to provide this for you.

Is he having the same thoughts as you? Does he wonder if something’s ‘wrong’ with you?

“I wanna be able to do it. Why can’t I do it on my own?” The sound of your meek voice shatters his heart and he shakes his head back and forth, adamant in shutting down the thoughts.

Tugging the covers down, Joel’s hands find your exposed skin, sliding across with a clammy touch from his labor outside. And nerves, too, you’d guess. Moving from his knees on the floor next to the bed, he finds a spot sitting at your side and shifts you to lay on your back. Opening up to him. Warmth rests over your womb, blanket pulled down to the tops of your thighs while his thumb brushes at your stomach, catching on the fabric of your shirt.

“No—oh, mi Mariposa, you don’t even know if it would be you with an issue. Very well could be me. Maybe breathin’ all the paint fumes at work killed m’little swimmers.” He breathes a small laugh through his nose, attempting to lighten the mood.

Your hands fly up to your face, muffling your voice, “Oh, god, don’t say that. I wanna have your baby, not some sperm donors.”

His hand coasts up your torso, over to your side to wrap around your rib cage, feeling your breaths as his fingertips lightly tickle the spot, “That was supposed to make you laugh, sweet girl.” 

Hands falling away from your face, your brow pinches together and your frown deepens. About to make a retort, your mouth open, Joel skates the fingertips of both his hands up and down your sides, alternated on each side of you to make it harder to catch his wrists. Laughter bubbles up from your chest, your frown morphing into a flashing smile before you’re calling for a surrender in between gasping breaths.

Relenting, his hands stop, settling at the curve of your waist. He leans over you, nudging his nose against yours before pressing a ghosting kiss to your lips. A small grin, hopeful and reassuring, with a tinge of worry flickering in his irises, barely there before his smile reaches his eyes, “It’ll happen for us, Mari baby. Why don’t we say, one last go before lookin’ into the doctors? We’ll do all the things, track whatever we need to track. I’ll drop whatever I need to come home and put a baby in you.”

Joel wiggles his eyebrows, playful smirk crossing his expression. You roll your eyes under him, pushing an accusing finger into his chest, “Like you don’t already do that. I could call you in the middle of work and just go ‘Hey, J’ and you’re in the truck on your way home.”

“That’s right, Mari. As it should be. Y’know what they say — happy wife, happy life.” Another kiss to your lips, this one a bit more savoring. “What d’ya say, mi amor? One more go?”

“Okay, yeah. One more go.”

Butterflies kick up in your stomach when you hear the low rumble of Joel’s truck cut, heavy door swinging closed and quick strides following. The front door opens after a short jingle of keys, shutting behind him with the slide of the lock back into place. Distant grumbles of his make you laugh, his frustrations with his work boots floating upstairs to where you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your hands. Clad in only your bra and panties, you work your bottom lip between your teeth as anticipation builds with each of Joel’s footsteps up the carpeted stairs.

You both only have the afternoon — less than an hour of your afternoon, actually — to make your last attempt. Already having taken advantage of the window in your cycle twice, the peak day of your ovulation fell, of course, during the busiest time of year for Miller Construction. Summer has come to a close, and now people have picked up their home improvements to start nesting for the winter; a craving you’ve been having yourself, desperate to make your home larger and livelier by one more. Joel has snuck away for a moment that you two have alone, and you’ve told the couple you nanny for that you have an immovable appointment for today.

Pretty sure the only thing that will be immovable today will be you once Joel’s hour is up.

 “Mari? Mi amor?” he calls out and you chuckle softly at the boyish excitement in his voice.

“In the bedroom, J!”

Joel rounds the doorway into your shared room, stopping a handful of steps past the threshold when he registers the sight of you. He hums a low moan, licking his lips as his eyes devour your lacy undergarments, “Mierda, mi esposa, estás tratando de matarme? (Shit, my wife, are you trying to kill me?) You look so fucking beautiful, darlin’.”

A low whistle leaves his lips as he stalks closer, eyes rake over your form as you present your primped self for his taking.

“You get all pretty for me, sweet girl? I like this…” he rasps as he’s within arm’s reach now, stretching a hand out to toy with the strap of your bra and snapping it against your skin sharply.

“Wanted to look pretty when you fill me up, J.” One curl of his finger under your chin draws you to sit up straight, tilting your head back to look at Joel towering over you.

“Good girl,” he praises, a glint of excitement in his eyes, “You want me to fill up your sweet little cunt, Mariposa? Want me to give you a baby? Tell me.”

“Yes,” you breathe out shakily, eyelids fluttering closed as his hands trail lightly across your exposed skin, ghosting everywhere you need him most.

“More, sweetheart. Dime. Dime cuánto lo deseas. Suplicar por ello. (Tell me. Tell me how badly you want it. Beg for it.)” His instructions float through your head, only keywords translating in while Joel leaves over you, lips pressing feather-light kisses along your neck, across your chest.

“I need it, Joel. Need you so fucking bad, I wanna have your baby. Want you to make me a mom, fill me up as many times as it takes until we get our baby…please, J…” As if the taste of you wasn’t enough to do him in, the wild, fervent look in your eyes intrigues him beyond. Hearing the words from your lips, directed to him, he’s fucking aching. He was growing hard on his way over here, the thoughts swimming through his mind of you laid out and ready for him to take delegating his blood supply to rush down below his belt.

He needs you, but first, he needs to see you unraveling underneath him only from his fingers.

“Don’t worry your pretty little mind, Mari. M’gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure this one takes. Let’s call it third time lucky this summer.” 

He shoots you a wink, your mouth parting to respond. Before you can let any breath escape, his lips are crashing with yours. Heavy, heady, and so fucking hot it spirals your thoughts into nothing. His tongue melts with yours, the taste of his black coffee and the donut he must have eaten at work this morning tingling your taste buds. Sweat sticks to his skin when your hands rest at the sides of his neck, falling backwards as he climbs over you. He smells of wood shavings, freshly mowed grass, and hard work — calloused hands gliding along your body and feeling the softest of scratches of his blue collar hands.

“Joel, need you — please.” It’s more of a whine than a begging whimper, rising frustration levels from his lack of touch in the place you need and want him the most. 

Your cunt is desperate, dripping down your folds and surely soaking the sheets. A quick jerk of your hips attempts to brush against him, to catch any relief for the need building low in your stomach. A large palm presses your lower half back against the mattress, the other hand pushing your leg to the side to open you up further for him. A knuckle brushes your clit, grazing up and down your seam through your soaked panties. Your husband clicks his tongue as he shakes his head at you, patronizing tone slick in his voice.

“Darlin’, I wanna take every second of my time with you. Are you gonna let me? Gonna let me get your cunt squeezing my fingers? Gonna let me fill you up, mi amor?” he asks, as if you wouldn’t say yes to all of those requests and he knows it. Nodding, a desperate yes exhaled when he applies more pressure with his finger against your clit, rubbing slow circles. “Good girl. Siempre tan bueno para mí. (Always so good for me.)”

Joel folds over your, taking one of your perked nipples into his mouth through your bra and sucking. His tongue flattens against the cup before he’s pulling at the nub with his teeth. The material is darkened where his mouth was when he grows a bit more needy, grabbing at the straps and yanking the bra to rest at your midsection. You slip your arms out of the straps and he pushes you further onto the bed by the back of your thighs, stripping your panties off and settling on his knees.

Pressure forms against your clit from two of his fingers, slow circles dragging a moan from your throat. Joel smirks, satisfied with the way you squirm under him, trying and failing to get more from his hands. Before you can vocalize a whine, Joel is over you again, bringing his attention to your now bare breast while the circles continue. Hot, humid kisses are littered on the soft skin, happy hums rolling from Joel’s chest. He pulls his head up, looking down at your chest with a half grin and his dimple on display.

“You’re gonna get so soft and swollen everywhere, Mariposa. Round belly, huge tits—can’t wait to play with ‘em.” His grin widens, boyish and brazen with the glee that the fact fills him with. “You gonna let me, baby? Gonna let me make your sore tits feel better with my mouth?”

His question goes unanswered as his mouth attaches to one of your nipples, sucking and flattening his tongue as he nurses it. Pulling away with a pop, he mimics the same on the other side, the intensity of his suckling along with his fingers rubbing faster against your clit — even slipping down to tease at your entrance — has you wiggling under him, desperation notching up your spine.

“Joel, please,” you plead, choking on your breath when he pulls the bud of your breast between his teeth, a low growling sound rumbling from his throat. 

Two of his thick fingers push into your dripping cunt, a relieved moan echoing against the walls of the bedroom. Curling up into your spongy walls, they thrust quickly and pet at the certain spot inside of you. Joel’s mouth is still at your chest, his hunger feeding itself on the taste of your skin.

“Fuck, Mari, gonna break my fucking fingers off. So fucking tight.”

A distraught whimper crawls from your chest, breaths heaving as your walls clench around his quick-paced fingers. You gasp when he slips a third one in, hooking them up. Despite the stretch, you still feel an emptiness. All you want is his cock inside of you, spilling into you and leaving you to grow fuller with his baby. The thoughts of him above you, fucking it all deeper into you to reach your womb, drive you over the edge. The tips of his fingers press against that spot inside of you, his warm mouth hanging open at your tit while his eyes watch you come undone. Writhing and walls pulsing around his fingers, his name falls from your mouth as you choke out moans and your vision grows dark.

“That’s it, Mari baby, fuck,” Joel works you through the orgasm before his fingers leave you and he sits back on his haunches. Sucking his digits clean of your slick and come, the other hand rubs your thigh gently before he coos down at you, “That was a big one, wasn’t it? Feel good?”

Still coming down from it all, your body feels liquidity, taking whatever form Joel is molding you into right now after he’s stripped himself bare. One hand slips under you, unclasping your bra and tugging it away from your torso, leaving you as naked as him. His eyes drink in your body while his grip holds your calves, chuckling darkly when you finally breathe out a response, “I feel…like I need you to put a baby in me.”

“Cualquier cosa para usted, mi esposa. Vas a estar tan lleno de mí. Te encanta la sensación de mi mecos dentro de ti, ¿verdad? (Anything for you, my wife. You're going to be so full of me. You love the feeling of my cum inside of you, don't you?)” Your head rolls with a nod, agreeing to anything Joel says in the moment, still hazy from how hard he’d made you come moments ago. Half-lidded eyes watch as he licks his fingers, stroking his cock a few times with a quiet sigh. That’s something you could watch all day — Joel’s pleasure. And here underneath him, you have the perfect view, and the perfect position to be used for it.

Fully handing over control to him, his hands tug you up so your ass sits on his thighs while he’s on his knees. Fingertips skate along the distance of your legs, grabbing at your calves to rest them on his broad shoulders. Even the slightest shift forward from his hips stretches you wide, a delicious ache creating a craving for more.

“Tell me how bad you want it, Mari, tell me how much you wanna have my baby.”

Joel’s gripping his length, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. The notches against your clit quiver the already stretched muscles in your thighs, whines replacing words coming out of your mouth.

“Tell me, or I won’t give you what you want, mi amor.”

“I want it so bad, J. I wanna feel you fuck me so full of you, and I don’t want that feeling to leave. I feel like there’s an emptiness and only you can fill it, I want your baby. Wanna have everyone know how good I am for you, carrying your baby like you want me to. I wanna have a part of you forever,” you gasp out the last word, Joel’s cock inching into you. Muscle memory takes over, your whole body relaxing with the knowledge that he’ll take care of you — he’ll always take care of you.

Joel bottoms out easily, filling you to the hilt before he pauses to take a breath. His eyes meet yours and he smiles, sweet and sincere, while holding your shins, “I fucking love you, mi Mariposa. Wanna give you a baby…”

“Pleasepleaseplease—” You don’t know if you’re begging more for him to give you what you want or to move his hips, but in the end, you get both. 

Joel starts out slow, shallow thrusts keeping him inside of you. Grunts from the controlled movements fill the room, your small whimpers following each noise he makes. The sound of him fucking into your cunt captures his attention, gaze zeroed in on where you two meet. Watching the stretch of your tight pussy around his cock, he feels the burning desire for more. To watch you take it deeper, harder.

The next snap of his hips is just that - smacking his skin against your ass before he adjusts, laying you back completely on the mattress and leaning over you. Your legs are still hooked over his shoulders, the burning of your muscles now straining your hamstrings and glutes. His entire body folds you, his head hovering over yours as he fucks into you further. The tip of his cock kisses your womb, the force of his thrusts driving your hips open more for him.

“Gonna — fuck — gonna make you a momma, Mariposa. That what you want? Get fucked so well, be so full of me that we make a baby? Everybody’s gonna know I treat my wife right. With your round belly…swollen—ah—swollen tits. Gonna be so beautiful, and so fucking sensitive everywhere.”

His words only add onto the feeling of his thick cock filling you up, nearly verging on too far and too much. Moans exhale on your lips, his name repeated like a chant with each harsh snap of him into you. Your hands scramble for purchase as his sheer power drives you up the mattress, sheets scratching against your bare back. One set of fingers dig into the meaty flesh of his shoulder, nails pressing crescent shapes like an iron-hot branding.

Above you, Joel studies how your mouth has fallen open, thoughts completely left your mind with how cockdrunk you are. He gingerly grips your chin, holding it to face him and commanding your eyes to his as he pants heavily.

“What d’you wanna make me, baby?” It’s only met with the sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you, the slap of skin as you gasp under him. “C’mon, Mari baby, use your words.”

“A daddy,” you breathe out, your opposite hand combing into his messy curls and gripping tight.

“Say it again. Dime.” Not thinking it was possible, Joel pushes you further, hitting into you harder with each thrust nudging his tip toward your cervix. You might only leave this afternoon with soreness, but you continued to hold out hope for a baby to be the well-worth prize for how you’re going to feel tomorrow.

“A daddy!”

“Dime. Dime. Dime,” he commands and you listen, writhing under him as he hacks away at your shared resolve, throwing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Daddy — oh, fuck, a daddy. Wanna make you a daddy!” You’re yelling at this point, sobs of pleasure wracking your body and you thank god for a split second that the two of you are home alone in the middle of the work day. Surely the whole block might be hearing all of your wanton sounds.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that, Mari baby,” Joel groans and throws his head back, bearing his teeth as he punches his hips into your clenching pussy, the telltale sign that you’re close.

“C’mon, mi amor, give it to me. Come for me and I’ll let your fucking pussy milk me for every last drop. That’s what you want, right? Gotta fill you up and make a baby for my Mari baby.” He’s rambling as you reach your peak, toes curling and coming even harder than your first one this afternoon. 

A near scream pulls itself from as deep as your gut, the sound as if you were in more pain than the absolute pleasure you feel. Your grip on his hair tightens, drawing him down for a messy kiss as you mumble against his lips.

“Please gimme a baby, J. Need it all inside of me, please. Come for me, mi esposo.” 

The name sends goosebumps across his shoulders and trickles down his spine before he’s barking your name once and spilling into you, painting your walls with each rope. He takes a moment to breathe before he gently presses his hips in a few short thrusts, fucking his spend as far into you as possible.

Joel collapses against your torso, no other efforts exerted to move away. Delicate, nimble touches brush the hair from his sweaty forehead, rubbing his shoulders as he hums contently.

“Fuck, baby, might just have to stay inside. Keep you plugged up so I can stay here all day with you.” Quiet, breathless laughter leaves your lips as you shake your head, tracing along his jaw before he turns his head to press his lips into your tummy.

“Can’t wait for you to be a momma. Gonna be the best one ever, y’already are. Love you so much.”

The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, only to be reminded of Joel’s limited schedule when his cell starts ringing from downstairs. Getting up with a groan, he slips out of you and lifts your hips, stuffing a pillow or two underneath them to keep your lower half elevated. You roll your eyes at the superstitious gesture, gasping when his fingers push into you once more to put his leaking come back into where it belongs.

“Gotta make sure it takes, pretty girl. Wanna see you get all round with my baby in you. Everybody’ll know how good I am to you, huh? Pumping you full of me so much we made a new fucking life…better stay like this until I get home again, Mari baby. Wanna make sure those lil swimmers get all the help they can get.”

“Mm…” you hum, hands grabbing for him to lean over you again. Sneaking a kiss, you pull away to whisper to him with a grin on your lips, “Better get back to work…daddy.”

He snorts out a laugh, beaming a bright smile as mischief glimmers in his eyes, “Mal. Mala chica. (Bad. Bad girl.)”

Three days late. You’ve been tracking your cycle like a mad woman, ticking off days in the notebook next to your bed, and now you’re officially three days late. Joel and you had agreed to wait a few days after you expected your period, hopeful that the extra time meant a more accurate, and desired, result.

The kitchen timer sitting on Joel’s side of the bed ticks away while you side on the edge of the bed. Tapping your fingers against your thighs, bare skin against your fingertips from the high hem of your denim shorts. Joel paces the room, eyes focused a thousand yards ahead. Anxiety and anticipation had been plaguing both of you all day, work slugging by minute by minute, second by second. Joel had left the jobsite as soon as was acceptable, leaving Tommy to wrap up, and swung by the pharmacy to pick up a new box of tests. Your task for the day was to chug water, or any liquid, all afternoon — by the time Joel was one foot through the door, you were ready to burst. Snatching the bag of tests out of his hand, you ran to the bathroom to pee in a plastic disposable cup and stick at least three tests in.

Now, you two are waiting for more seconds and minutes to tick by, added to the tally of the entire day. As you’re about to stand and stop Joel from burning treads in the area rug from walking his tight circles, a trill of a bell vibrating demands your attention. Turning off the noise in a flash, you stand and cross the room to where your husband is now frozen in place. A gentle touch to his cheek, his eyelids flutter close and he takes a long exhale before opening them again.

“Ready?” you ask, uncertainty pitching your voice up.

A minute nod, one shake of his chin, Joel’s hand finds the small of your back as he responds, “Ready, mi amor.”

His hand guides you into the bathroom, and a handful of steps from the three tests laid out on the counter, you turn around, panic twisting your expression. Joel stumbles to stop his collision with you, large palms grabbing onto your biceps to catch himself.

“M’scared, J…” Your voice is meek, cracking with emotion. This is the last shot you gave yourselves, whatever is laid on the counter either means unbridled joy or a long road of poking and prodding in countless doctors’ offices.

The warmth of his hands rubbing your arms and the press of his lips to your forehead coax you to relax, to take deep breaths, “I know, Mari baby, I would be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t scared too. But no matter what is on those tests, we’re in it together, right sweet girl?”

His index finger hooks under your chin to draw your attention up to his face, a small smile filled with love and reassurance stretching his lips.

“Always in it together, J.” You take another deep breath, turning around and nodding shortly, “Okay, now m’ready.”

“That’s my girl,” he mumbles before he’s following right behind you again, the two of you pressing yourselves to each other against the counter. Joel has an iron grip on your hips, nerves manifesting in the squeezes of his hands. Shaking fingers turn over each test before picking them all up to your lines of vision.

Two lines. Two bold lines screaming at both of you, across all three tests.

Positive.

Positive. You’re pregnant. You and Joel are having a baby.

“Holy shit…” Joel exhales behind you, smile creeping into his voice. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter as he turns you around, “Holy shit! You’re pregnant, Mari. We’re havin’ a baby! You’re gonna be a momma!”

Giddiness overcomes both of you, happy and disbelieving laughter while you hold each other in a tight embrace. Joel litters kisses around your face, catching your lips last — all teeth and tight lipped from your matching grins.

“You’re gonna be a dad again, how’s that feel?”

“Like I won the damn lottery, mi amor.”

Another kiss, supple and heavy. Joel pulls away first and shakes his head, pressing his forehead to yours, “I love you so fucking much, Mari.”

“I love you too, J.”

“You ready to go, Sare?” you ask, standing next to her seat at the kitchen table where she’s working away at her homework, reaching a hand out to play with her curls. She smiles and nods, writing down one last answer to a question on her worksheet before she lays her pencil down and stands up, rushing over toward the door.

“Just gotta get my shoes on!” she calls out, and you smile, shaking your head.

“Take your time, sweet pea! God knows it’s gonna take me longer to walk over to the door.” Your joke falls on deaf ears of your husband, who stands at the kitchen island and rolls his eyes before he’s crossing the room over to you. Within arm’s length, his hands cup the bottom of your large belly, leaning in for a sweet peck.

“Nobody cares if you move slow. Better to be careful than—”

“Careless, yes, I know. I think those might be our baby’s first words since they hear them so much from their dad,” you tease and he shrugs, kissing you again while his touch wanders across the flannel of his that you’re sporting, too tired to buy more maternity clothes that you’ll grow out of and opting for his closet every morning.

“Jus’ looking out for my girls. All three of ‘em.” He beams proudly, brown eyes shining brightly before he turns you in his arms, accompanying you to the front door where your near-teenager is waiting. Ever the sweetheart she is, she’s got your purse slung on her shoulder, car keys in hand to pass off to you. You thank her quietly, turning back to Joel as he looks between the two of you.

“Alright, have fun with your girls’ day. And call if you need anything — either of you. I’ll be waitin’ here for ya.” Joel smooths down Sarah’s hair before kissing the crown of her head; she squirms away, the teenage attitude rearing its head in some early moments, especially with her dad. There’s less patience for him, which you completely understand as a teenage girl once yourself. He huffs out a sigh as she slips out the door, heading down the front path toward your car.

“Hey, s’nothing. Teenage girl things. She loves you, and you’re the best dad.” A hand on his cheek coaxes him down to your lips, a supple kiss exchanged before he pulls away and bends to kiss the top of your belly.

“Bye, my little June Bug.” He stands upright again and steals another kiss, mumbling, “And bye, mi Mariposa. Drive safe, let me know if you need anything while you’re out. I love you.”

“We love you too. And m’speaking for the moody one, too.” Joel chuckles and rubs your bump once more before sending you on your way, watching and waving from the door as y’all drive away.

The plan for today had come about when you started to notice Sarah growing quieter, retreating to her room more often after family dinners and denying the chance at movie night some days. Joel had noticed too, but was a bit nervous to broach it with her, not wanting to make her feel bad about being more independent.

Your relationship with her though was much different to Joel’s. There was the foundation of your caretaking role with her, much more of a friend with authority when it was only you two before you were anything close to a parental figure. More open and, well, you could relate more to what she was going through. She confided in you first about girls at school being catty, about her growing crushes on boys in her grade. And this year, only a month after your due date, she will officially become a teenager. It was a strange time in any girl’s life, full of growing pains.

And on top of all of that, add on a new baby arriving. Attentions drawn elsewhere, priorities shifted to preparing for the baby. Sarah never fell to the backburner in your minds, but you didn’t know how she was feeling. Guessing by her quiet actions, you could tell she was feeling left out but didn’t want to stir up trouble.

Always the sweet girl. And you knew how that was.

So, you’d asked her for a girls’ day, excluding her dad from the fun and giving both of you some time with each other to feel like it was years before. It was all about Sarah today, no mentions of baby — no buying diapers or supplies or clothes. A promise made to yourself to make Sarah feel special, because that is exactly what she was. The baby on the way may be your first biological child, but nothing can compare to the unique bond that you have with your Sare Bear.

The day was spent waddling throughout the mall, helping her pick out new outfits and shoes for the end of the school year. Collecting a haul, you two stopped off for lunch and a trip to the nail salon before you finally made your way back home in the evening. Sarah was smiling brightly in the passenger seat, joking around with you and eagerly telling you all about the latest school drama. Your heart was about to burst with how much she’d come out of her shell again all day, even wanting to show off her new things to her dad when you both got back.

In the living room, Joel greets you two from the couch, eyes widening and a low whistle leaving his lips when he sees the damage done, “Quite some shoppin’ there, Bug. Y’all buy out the whole store?”

You wave him off and encourage Sarah to show off her haul, walking over to settle onto the sofa next to Joel. The younger Miller excitedly starts pulling out pieces and showcasing them, excitedly telling her dad exactly where she plans to wear them. His hand rests on your leg, attention completely focused on his daughter in front of him, squeezing you gently when she gets particularly worked up over something. You can tell he feels what you were in the car, heart bursting that she seems like herself again after a day spent with you.

“That’s nice, Sare Bear. I like the color,” Joel comments on the last shirt Sarah holds up, her smile still beaming as she tosses it back into the bag.

“Thanks, Mom actually picked it out! I thought it would be fun to have for camp this year, since I’m gonna start the counselor training program…” Her voice trails off as Joel listens intently. You, on the other hand, take deep breaths to hold it together, the simple moniker rolling off of Sarah’s tongue so naturally. Your heartbeat thumps in your chest, and baby Miller kicks her feet against your tummy — equally as excited.

You manage to keep it calm while Sarah recaps the rest of the day before she gathers up her shopping bags to take to her room. As she’s leaving the room, she’s quick to run over and give you a hug, leaning down to meet you where you sit on the couch. Your belly sticks out between the two of you, but regardless you pull her into a tight squeeze as she says thank you. Her curls bounce as she scampers off upstairs, the quiet sounds of her feet in the hallway queuing your watery eyes to overflow and for your nose to sniffle. Joel is grinning brightly next to you, pulling you into his lap and holding you against him as he wipes the few happy tears away.

“She called me Mom…” you whisper to your husband, afraid to admit it any louder as if it would disappear.

Joel presses his forehead against yours, a sweet kiss against your lips before he whispers back, “You have no idea how happy it makes me to know she feels that way about you.”

“I just…I feel so lucky. And maybe it’s hormones, but oh my god, I can’t stop blubbering. I’m a mom.”

“You’re the best mom. Have been to Sarah since she met you, and you’re going to be the best mom to our little one on the way.”

June 21st, 2009.

The first day of summer.

It’s the first day of summer and you’re stuck inside. Not at home, no, you’re currently propped up in a hospital bed with your legs in stir-ups, breathing in between contractions. Exhaustion weighs on your body, a full hour passing of you pushing in time with the pain in your abdomen that radiates all over. Sweat sticks your hair to your forehead and Joel sitting next to you brushes it out of the way. His other hand is limp in yours, ready to be squeezed with a vice grip whenever you need to push. Joel leans over you in level with your head, lathering on encouragements.

“You got this, Mari.”

“So strong, baby. You can do it.”

“Thank you, mi amor, thank you thank you thank you.”

The last one comes after a string of complaints against him doing this to you — despite you both knowing you begged for it nine months prior — and for having such a big head in his own baby photos that he had to have passed down to the baby.

Another wave kicks in, your doctor and nurses coaching you to give another final push. Putting every last bit of your energy behind the flex of your muscles, groaning out with pain and frustration before a piercing cry fills the room. Heavy, tiny sobs ring in your ears.

“You did it, baby, m’so proud of you. Our little girl,” Joel says in awe, glancing between you and where the doctor holds your little baby girl, summoning Dad over to cut the cord. 

She’s taken away to be cleaned up and Joel returns to your side, ready to help you attentively through the afterbirth. You wave him off, begging him to go keep an eye on your little girl. Once she’s clean enough, the nurses lay her on your bare chest, the sight of her tiny fingers and toes bringing about your own cries. Your hands hold her there, delicate touches brushing against her soft skin and her damp but full head of dark brown hair.

The rest of the process is painful but smoother, shorter. Before you know it, all tests are done and Joel is next to the bed again, wiping a damp cloth across your forehead.

A rush of adrenaline, pure unfiltered need and excitement to meet your daughter keeps you awake, sitting up carefully as you accept her into your arms from your husband who’s wearing the biggest smile. He sits on the edge of the bed, hand on your leg as you study the features on her small face.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she, Mari? Looks like her momma.”

You beam, shaking your head as you place a fingertip against her nose, “See, I think she looks like her daddy. Already got the grumpy brow.”

Both of you laugh, your unbridled attention on the tiny bundle in your arms as you gush over her for minutes longer. Joel rubs your leg, drawing your eyes up to him as he asks, “So you think we picked a good name?”

“I think we picked a perfect name. Our ‘S’ girls,” you grin at him before looking down at your little girl, “Skye Isla Miller. I think it suits her perfectly.”

A bit more time is spent between only the two of you and Skye before you’re itching to see your eldest, and for her to meet her little sister. Joel retreats to where Sarah’s in the waiting area with Tommy and Maria, who’s now three months pregnant herself, waving her to come back with him. She nervously enters the room, quiet as a mouse until you reassure her with a smile and welcome her to sit in the bed next to you.

Joel makes the introductions, voice thick with emotion as he stands over his three girls, watching as his first little one meets his second, “Sarah Elena, this is your baby sister, Skye Isla.”

Sarah quietly asks permission to hold her; you lay Skye in her arms carefully, teaching her how to support her head and where to avoid her soft spot. Sarah picks up on it like a natural, adjusting her little sister when she fusses a bit, finally settling into a new set of familiar hands.

“Dad said you did a really good job, Mom. With everything today. S’pretty cool that you brought a whole person into the world…” Sarah glances over at you with a shy smile before addressing both you and Joel, “M’really happy she’s here.”

“You’re gonna be a great big sister, Bug,” Joel beams with pride as he squeezes her shoulder, leaning over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. He hums as he looks over you three, “Got my Mariposa, my Bug, and my little June Bug. Mi maripositas. Don’t think anything could beat seeing my three girls altogether finally.”

You find yourself observing your family from afar, listening with muffled ears as Joel and Sarah chat about who Skye got what features from. Cheeks aching from smiling, you can’t help but think that this summer was off to the most wonderful start, and that every summer after was only going to get better. 

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @anoverwhelmingdin @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @planet-marz1 @kiwisbell @lizzie-cakes

[navybrat817]

Basement wife for who?

Raymond Smith

William Miller

Bucky Barnes

Nick Fowler

Steve Rogers

Who said I have to pick one, nonnie?

Raymond has an entire estate and a nice room set up for me. He wouldn't need to put me in a basement. Though he does have a special room set up for when I misbehave. 

William would keep me in a cabin in the woods. He wants some peace and quiet after his years of service. And he'll find ways to make me serve him. 

Bucky has places he can keep me and knows how to avoid getting caught, but imagine him fixing up a boat and keeping you captive there to start. Not exactly easy to escape the insatiable ex-assassin. 

Nick knows a basement would be perfect to hold me captive, but uses a panic room of sorts instead. Perfect to come home to and the blinking light in the corner reminds me that he's watching. 

Steve might actually try a basement. White picket fence home. I just need to accept that he won't let me go. 

Steve and Bucky may also have rooms at the compound if they want their girls close together.

So. All of them?

Love and thanks! ❤️

[relatableblorbopoll]

Round 1 of preliminaries, group 2

The first two places get a place on the bracket

Little reminder: there will be 2 more rounds of preliminaries, the losing blorbos of this poll still have 2 chances of getting in the official bracket

Propaganda under the cut

Jessica Day (New Girl)

"She brakes for birds, she watches her favourite movie several times when upset, she is more comfortable at home than at the club, she struggles with being flirty, she's a geek, her humor isn't always understood by others, and she's in love with Nick Miller."

Daniel LaRusso (Karate Kid)

"Man... he has represented every bullied kid just wanting to prove themself since the 80s. I can relate to him coming from a single parent family, starting a new school and struggling to fit in. He kind of makes things worse for himself too by retaliating and trying to stand up for himself and pulling pranks without using his goddamn brain. He just has the worst luck constantly. Gets on the wrong side of the high school bad boys on day 1. Gets a crush, turns out it's the ex of the leader of the bad boys. Wants to learn karate to try and defend his scrawny ass, the only karate class in town is where ALL the bad boys learn. That's how being a teenager feels. In the end he ends up kicking their asses and proving himself. I guess that's how we all want to feel. Also the first thing he does when he moves into a new place isn't sort out his luggage or anything. He fills a bowl of water for a dog outside. Me too kid. Me too."

Omota Uramichi (Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan)

"He's extremely tired dead inside all the time for extremely relatable reasons such as annoying colleages and bosses, dreams not working out, being stuck in a job he doesn't really like, and just adult life being a bitch. But even so, he still has to keep up a happy facade."

Jack Spicer (Xiaolin Showdown)

"- He's a gifted kid who doesn't get taken seriously despite having some clear skill - So fucking gay it's unreal - He wants validation so badly dude - Alternative fashion icon - Autism beast - Trans in my heart (but he's canonically respectful of people's preferred pronouns so even if he isn't, yes king)"

Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid)

"number 1 princess in the whole world"

Eichi Tenshouin (Ensemble Stars)

"gay"

[sunnysam-my]

Is Benedict Cumberbatch actually ableist/anti-autism?

Every now and then I hear people mentioning it. When I learned for the first time about what he said and done I was shocked. He may not be my favourite famous person or actor, but he's a well respected man who played many roles I'm fond of. I was deeply upset about this, but one question was lingering in my mind. What about the context? Did he actually said that? Did he still hold those negative opinions or was it just the times. On top of that, how much does non-actors understand what's like to be an actor. Oh, and let's not forget that all of those accusations came from written articles and interviews with him which create catchy biased headlines and commentary.

I happened to be an autistic and a disabled actor myself, so I dig deeper and here it is. Allow me to be the devil's advocate.

First I remind you all that in 2013 the terms like "low functioning" or other subtypes of autism were changed, so it's no suprise that the outdated terms were still being used.

Starting off in 2011 when Cumberbatch played Frankenstein's 'Creature' and Frankenstein. I've seen some people confused whether he played Victor Frankenstein, the mad scientist, or the 'Creature', Frankenstein's creation who wasn't even given a name. He played both, exchanging it with the other actor, Jonny Lee Miller. This isn't as uncommon as people think, although it's not popular either.

Benedict mentioned that the he went with Jonny to see how autistic people act. He also did his own research into stroke survivors as well in general people who had to re-learn how to use their bodies. That's because that's the research they needed to accurately portray a character freshly born in a body of adult and immediately abounded by his creator, who is trying to learn how he and people work.

The part of this video that's important to this conversation is from 00:00 to 01:20.

I recommend also watching this video for a better inside of the character if you don't know the book. This is important because the Creature being autistic coded is not a bad a thing. He is not a monster. You missed the whole point of the play and book.

The Creature is a child in a adult body. The tragedy of "Frankenstein" is that all he wants is to be loved and cared for, but because of his deformations, scary physical appearance and mental disability everyone fears him and threats him as an 'it', a scary dangerous monster. IF YOU THINK THE CREATURE IS A MONSTER YOU ARE BEING ABLEIST.

Clips of The Creature being born are shown while the actors look mildly embarrassed watching themselves on screen. Madeline: I wanted to talk about the immense physicality of this show – you are both learning to walk as adults and it really comes through in those clips and how did you go about doing that? Jonny: We worked with a movement coach Toby Sedgwick, the incredible Toby Sedgwick. We started work the 3 of us (Danny, Benedict and Jonny) and also with Toby and Nick before the rest of the company joined us and it was sort of like a going back to school process really for me and Benedict. We worked on movement in various ways. Movement techniques of using different materials and different substances and it was quite embarrassing and quite a great way to get to know each other and to sort of drop everything immediately… Benedict: Like our clothes! Straight away. Jonny: Two guys pretending to be oil and glass who don’t really know each other very well at all. There’s a lot of water in there as well. Benedict: We talked a lot about about what we were doing as far as the world that influenced Danny and Nick in terms of wanting to do this project. We went to two extraordinary schools for autistic children and there is an element of the movement that reflects that but also as Jonny was saying it’s an evolution of a man who is fully formed so it’s an evolution with a fully grown body, it’s as if a man is born again as an elephant. Sort of backwards. It’s about not knowing anything about what they’ve got but being capable of doing much more than a child so it was about how to stagger that progression and having certain barriers to being fully evolved with certain autistic movements. Madeline: You do see the development of the Creature as he moves on and gets older and learns. […]

Unfortunately the link to the website this transcript was on no longer works, it was taken over, however you can view it using the Wayback Machine.

So, no, in this situation he absolutely was not ableist. That was just actors doing their job, making no offensive comments. And again The Creature is not a monster! He's practically mentally disabled with a development disorder if you tried to diagnose him like a real person. The entire history is about him fighting for his right to be alive and happy despite of how weirdly he looks or behaves.

Two other similar takes on this (Twiter/X) (Carrd)

In the 2014 interview for the Irish Times about his role in "The Imitation Game" as Alan Turing and other achievements he commented further about the role in Frankenstein.

For his award-winning turn in Danny Boyle's Frankenstein, he studied autism so that he might grasp how a fully formed man, with no infancy or childhood to reference, might behave.

“I went to schools and met people, some of whom are very high functioning on the autistic spectrum. I met a 17-year-old who had the mental age of a one and a half year old. Everything was just about bodily functions. Smell. Sexual arousal. Shitting. Whatever. So when I hear people use diagnostic labels casually – Sherlock is autistic, Turing is autistic – it really upsets me.”

He pauses for a nanosecond, then continues to talk: “And it upsets me those 17-year-olds were coming to the end of their care. Because after that they’re supposed to head into employment and earn revenue for their government. Ha. Because from early on you’re empiricised in that Orwellian sense.”

He smiles: “Sorry. I’m getting political.”

A lot of people leave out the last part, which is incredible frustrating considering he talks about a very real problem disabled people experience. As soon as we turn 18 we are suddenly supposed to figure everything out on our own and be useful to society or we'll be thrown out. It's ironic how people who accused him of being ableist here got this negative part so spread out, but not the really important part. The part where he cares for that 17-year-old who society would rather ignore, because they just didn't fit that perfect picture. The part he brings attention to an awful thing that happens every day.

The same year he said, as written in Metro:

Many are drawing parallels between Turing and Cumberbatch’s Sherlock Holmes, suggesting he’s specializing in characters who exist somewhere on the autism spectrum. But Cumberbatch wants them to cut out that nonsense. “Though Sherlock is an immediate comparison, they’re so different. Sherlock is a sociopathic show-off, and Alan was anything but that,” Cumberbatch tells Metro. “I don’t think he was on the spectrum. I think a lot of people are very lazy with that.” It’s a suggestion Cumberbatch has heard raised again and again, and he’s frankly had enough of it. “I think it’s a really dangerous thing to toy with that,” he says. “People talk about me doing that quite a lot and that being a good thing for people who are on the spectrum, which is great. But I don’t go into a job going, ‘Is this autism? Is this Asperger’s? Is this some other form of slight learning difficulty or disability?’ I’m very wary of that, because I’ve met people with those conditions. It’s a real struggle all the time. Then these people pop up in my work and they’re sort of brilliant, and they on some levels almost offer false hope for the people who are going through the reality of it.”

What Cumberbatch is actually saying in both of those is that he is sick of people seeing a genius played by him and immediately stereotype him as autistic, ignoring the fact that it's a very broad disability. Because that's what autism is, a disability. Fun fact, you can have autistic or ADHD traits/symptoms, but you won't get diagnosed if they aren't disabling you on daily basis. The lowest level of autism is "requiring support". There is nothing wrong with admitting your autism is making you disabled. There's nothing wrong with being disabled.

He isn't trying to play a autistic character, he just plays what he thinks is right. People see the geniuses he plays and immediately go "😮🫵 Autistic!" and compare them despite how different they are.

However, the way he says it stinks of that "You can't headcanon everyone autistic, that's a serious condition!" mindset that's oh so present in neurotypicals. I can only assume that what he was trying to say is that it's not good to portray disabilities as superpower, without mentioning the struggles they come with, but even if that was the intention it was poorly phrased. It did come out as disrespectful and in my personal opinion we can be truly mad at that, because we're not something to pity or describe so… oddly?, like that comment about the 17 year old.

I disagree with Turing not being autistic irl, more specifically with thinking people's reasons to say that are lazy, unless he was talking about Sherlock or the movie version of Turing there, in which case, eh 50/50. For example, here's a great article about exactly that, it compares the real life Alan and the movie version and if it is even good to 'diagnose' historical figures. However the movie version makes him more socially awkward, so this could be just being upset as people took another fictonal white, awkward genius and slapped "autistic" on that. It's funny how when characters like this are canonically autistic then it's a stereotype, but when it's a headcanons then suddenly it's okay and you shouldn't disagree with it. Sheldon from Big Bang theory is a great example of that.

To quote another article about how Turing in the move was changed:

The Imitation Game isn’t a plea for greater tolerance of homosexuals, but of people on the autistic spectrum. Its cause is neurodiversity, not sexual diversity. That’s why Turing is portrayed as someone who struggles with ordinary human interaction. He’s literal-minded to a fault and is incapable of understanding jokes. He’s nothing like the real Alan Turing, who was warm, charming and funny; instead, he’s exactly like the main character in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. To make a point, the filmmakers have invented a largely fictional character — a mathematical genius with Asperger’s syndrome. It’s as if they decided that presenting Turing as a victim of the persecution of homosexuals is old hat. So instead, he’s portrayed as a martyr to another, more fashionable cause. His crime isn’t being gay, but failing to be neurotypical.

Now, I’m all for giving more respect to people on the autistic spectrum — my half-brother Christopher is on the autistic spectrum — but not because they’re ‘special’. The Imitation Game commits a similar error to Rain Man, which seems to argue that Dustin Hoffman’s character should be valued and cherished not because he’s a human being with the same needs as the rest of us but because he’s exceptional with numbers. It’s patronising nonsense, and as an argument for neuro-diversity doesn’t bear scrutiny. It won’t surprise you to learn that Christopher isn’t any good at maths.

You can say that I'm being too biased towards the Benedict here, but I think it's only right to give the man a benefit of a doubt, especially how people jumped him after Frankenstein, and say "Hey, was that a horribly phrased thought? Hell yeah, but the meaning could not be so simple as people think." You're assuming the worse here, and I do understand why, considering how we're usually treated, but maybe let's try to assume positively too. At least let's try to be neutral.

I'm not going to dictate if he's ableist or not, that's up to you to decide how you feel, I just hope you can make an educated opinion and that this helped clear anyone's mind, because it did for me.

Oh, and also, this doesn't mean he's a good person now, because he's been a dick to so many people and had horrible opinions on so many topics. This is purely about the ableist accusations.

[buckybarnesss]

You know that pregnant lady with the multiple kids in Gone Girl? The one who strolls up to the vigil and is like "WHERE IS? WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR WIFE??"

That is me, and Jeff Davis is Nick Miller.

Does Cora know Derek is dead? Do they talk? Do she and Peter talk? What happened to her? Is she still alive? Is she still in South America? Jeff Davis, I am in your walls.

i fully believe that cora kept in touch with derek and peter. i don't think there's a world where she doesn't.

she travelled alone all the way from south america to beacon hills on a rumor of a hale alpha.

yes she was angry at the circumstances and there's baggage (so much baggage) but there's no way she wasn't relieved and happy that derek was alive (and peter too). they got a chance to sort all that out.

in frayed it's made clear she knew peter killed laura and despite being unhappy about this like any reasonable person she didn't attack or try to kill him. instead they had their uncle-niece adventure. she was also worried about and is trying to find derek in that episode too. she thought he died. again.

derek gave up his alpha spark for her. that's huge. that's no small thing. i cannot imagine derek simply letting her go after that either. cora's survival changed his entire existence. the world spun on it's axis once more. he took her back to south america to keep her safe from beacon hills.

i also cannot imagine peter didn't keep tabs on her either even after she left.

also peter was with derek when they were attempting to get talia's claws from the calaveras so either he went with them to drop cora off or he met derek later. either way i think peter saw cora off and chipped her.

i also believe her and stiles kept in touch because stiles doesn't like to let people go and he bonded with cora. she liked him. he saved her life in that ambulance. they're probably friends on social media.

i don't believe cora didn't have a relationship with eli and i definitely don't believe she wouldn't come as fast as humanly possible if something happened to derek.

she's gonna kick down scott's front door. she'd have real tell your boyfriend if he says he's got beef that i'm a vegetarian and I ain't fucking scared of him energy dragging him into the front yard so the neighbors can watch.

[gh0stlyb34r]

୧ astrid's f/o's ও

a list of my f/o's sorted by what media they are from! I am very selective when it comes with sharing some of these f/o's so the only thing I ask is that if you do have the same f/o(s) as me, specifically the ones I say are nonsharing, is that you please don't tell me you share those f/o's! I also selfship with a few of my own oc's as well as some oc's that I enjoy, these will not be included in this list!

marvel ও

logan howlett - x-men - romantic

peter b parker - across the spiderverse / into the spiderverse - romantic

steven grant - moon knight - romantic - nonsharing

tony stark - the avengers - familial

peter parker - spiderman - familial

loki - the avengers - familial

agatha harkness - wandavision / agatha all along - familial

star wars ও

din djarin - the mandalorian - romantic - nonsharing

obi-wan kenobi - star wars prequels - romantic

luke skywalker - romantic

anakin skywalker - star wars prequels - platonic

overwatch ও

cole cassidy - romantic - nonsharing

juno - parental

hanzo - romantic

dcu ও

bruce wayne - the batman - romantic - nonsharing

nightwing - titans - romantic

tlovm ও

percy de rolo - romantic - nonsharing

vax'ildan vessar - romantic - nonsharing

vex'ahlia vessar - platonic

call of duty ও

simon riley - modern warfare 2 / 3 - romantic - nonsharing

john mactavish - modern warfare 2 / 3 - romantic

john price - modern warfare 1 / 2 / 3 - familial

kate laswell - modern warfare 1 / 2 / 3 - familial

criminal minds ও

spencer reid - romantic

jj - familial

emily prentiss - platonic

arcane ও

viktor - romantic

jayce talis - romantic

jinx - parental

silco - romantic

vander - familial

httyd ও

hiccup - specifically httyd 3 - romantic

astrid - oc x canon - romantic

marauders / harry potter ও

remus lupin - romantic

sirius black - romantic

luna lovegood - parental

new girl ও

nick miller - romantic

disney ও

flynn rider - tangled - romantic

zed - zombies 1 / 2 / 3 - oc x canon - romantic

musicals ও

erik destler - the phantom of the opera - romantic

glinda upland - wicked - platonic

stranger things ও

steve harrington - romantic

eddie munson - romantic

max mayfield - familial

tlou ও

joel miller - romantic

ellie williams - parental

dbh ও

rk900 / nines - romantic

gavin reed - romantic

connor / rk800 - romantic

hank anderson - familial

heartstopper ও

tori spring - oc x canon - romantic

tua ও

ben hargreeves - platonic

viktor hargreeves - romantic

[jell0buss-37]

My Peter B headcannons!

General HCs, however I will take requests for different HCs (only for Headcannons rn though 👀)

He's a reporter rather than a physicist in his universe.

He was probably more of a jock type, who knew more about sports. When he got bitten he got more active, but never played any team sports because he was still scared of his bullies.

He had asthma before he was bitten.

He loves the color blue, but specifically navy blue.

Loves classic rock, but like 70s sort of classic rock, so definitely more of a Kinks, Rolling Stones, Queen sorta fan.

In his Universe, Harry was his Green Goblin.

He's very emotional.

He is a HUGE horror movie buff.

Is actually a very big bookworm, especially mystery books. Growing up he was a big Sherlock Holmes fan.

His parents were actually alive, but they couldn't take care of him, and so they sent him to live with his Aunt and uncle when he was 5.

He's actually from Nebraska.

He's not a fan of his birthday, so he never makes a big deal about it.

Also gets butthurt when nobody makes a big deal about it.

His universes Gwen was actually a babysitter he had a fat crush on when he was 9. She was 8 years older than him.

He likes funny women, it makes his stomach flip whenever a spunky woman can joke with him.

More of a grease monkey than a lab rat, however he somehow is and actual whizz when it comes to many subjects. Except for Arts of any sort. He actually is not creative at all.

He has the most useless facts stored in his head, it can literally be the most out of pocket thing ever, and yet doesn't know basic things.

"Did you know that Pelicans can pull their spines through their unhinged jaws to cool off?" ".... Peter wha-"

"What do pelicans eat?" "Idk, broccoli?"

He can't sing or dance for the life of him.

But he can play the harmonica

And he likes colorful drinks. Alcoholic drinks or not.

That and Root Beer

An absolute Mug Root beer fiend

Also really good at video games, doesn't matter what game, he picks it up so fast

Looks like big dumb, but really that's just him not caring.

Has a fear of Michael Cera.

"Where are his eyebrows???"

Is literally just Nick Miller, actually.

He's a cat dad

His cat's name is Tyler

"I am sick of Tyler just jumping into the shower and getting freaked out and scratching me-" "Woah, WHAT?? Like your roommate!?" "No. My cat. Why would my roommate attack me-"

Uses punctuation when he texts so you can never tell what tone he's using when he texts

'omw now want me to get u smth from the store'

'No. Drive safe.' (so menacing???)

Has a Ned in his universe that is his office buddy at the Daily Bugle

Ned is an intern and he and Peter have horror movie marathons, and he is also an artist

Peter can't drive. Also he's literally Spiderman so that doesn't matter anyway. But if you ask him, he will not know how to drive. He fixes cars, doesn't drive them.

Never went to college, but got a degree in quantum physics online

That and a wedding licence as spiderman. He thought it'd be funny if Spider-Man could officiate weddings

Is actually scared of kids until Miles

After Miles, he is so good with kids

In his mind

Is writing his own book about a detective from New Orleans (iykyk)

Is Irish-Italian

Likes Baseball a lot because it reminds him of his Uncle Ben

His universe doesn't have reality TV

He's also a DM for Ned's DND group

Totally LARPs, but doesn't admit it

Doesn't like Apple sauce and hasn't eaten it since he was 8 because he ate too much of it and threw it up

Genuinely loves his friends interests, and will genuinely try them out or watch whatever it is they like so they can gush together or debate

Has a barber shop he goes to where he just talks with the old men there, he's been going since he was 12 because Uncle Ben took him

Can Bake really good and sew because of May

He actually asked her to teach him these skills

Has a dream to live in the Oscar Meyer Weiner mobile one day

[freddie-77-ao3]

So I know you like Marvel, DC, and Percy Jackson, but what other shows, movies, or genres to you like??? Action, horror, comedy, crime/medical dramas? If you don’t mind me asking that is .

hmmmm

so DC and PJO are definitely the big ones, and have been for years but other than that

Miss Peregrine's Home/ Peculiar Children series

greys anatomy with my sister (but i refuse to watch past season 14, there was NO reason to keep going

the owl house? a little? i still read the moringmark comics and am on the subreddit, but i'm not really active in the fandom. same goes for gravity falls. OH I NEED TO POST A GRAVITY FALLS THING ITS COOL AS SHIT!!!

throne of glass (sarah j. maas series) i love this series but oh my fucking god the fandom sucked when i was last in it. absolutely no understanding of any sort of morally gray character. i adore characters who are human and make mistakes, and from what i saw.... no one else did.

sort of merlin tv but also.... just the fanfics. i watched the first season of the actual show and then it got removed from netflix so i just read the fandom wiki and fanfiction. got into it originally because caffeinatedflumadiddle (SOSF writer) also wrote for merlin.

umbrella academy!! TV more than comics but i definitely like both. TV wise, i've not actually watched season 3 yet, but imma get there at some point.

love the true lives of the fabulous killjoys comics, don't really read the fics bc ppl conflate the fabulous four with the band and that's ick.

heartstopper! my ex gf got me into the series, but i definitely still love them now!! personally i like the show, then the novels (like solitaire!!! god i love solitaire), then the graphic novels. i love nick and Charlie (obviously) but tao is my favorite non-main character. non main being not-nick-or-charlie.

dear evan hansen. not like. a lot a lot, but i like the fics, the book was cool. not watched the musical, but listened to the songs.

hunger games!! controversial opinion but i don't really thing gale did much wrong? like he designed bombs WHILE THEY WERE IN WAR. what happened to prim was a tragedy, but one that was accidental. definitely still team everlark though.

derry girls! watch it (and rewatch it) with my family a lot. my favorite is michelle.

love both the song of achilles and circe by madeline miller, even if they're not historically accurate (moreso the circe there...) honestly, love a lot of mythological retellings-- daughters of sparta is another really good one.

speechless (tv) is great! watched it mainly for the nonverbal rep, ray is definitely my favorite character. fun fact, my mum was in a mums group with minnie driver.

everything's gonna be okay! also watched for rep (this time just autism in general) and also love it. drea is my favorite character.

coraline!!! holy shit i love coraline. book and movie. favorite animated movie by far.

my sister's keeper is a great book. not watched the movie, but i love the book.

girl in pieces is a great book.

i watched fate the winx saga, that was good

school spirits!! can't wait for season 2

okay also, nonfiction/poetry wise

i adore richard siken. he's a wonderful poet. i like crush more than war of the foxes, and i can't wait for the next collection to come out!! seriously ask me about his poetry, i could go on for ages-- i've got favorite quotes, favorite poems, everything.

black girl, call home (and other poems by the author) jasmine mans is great. i am white, so disclaimer there, i probably shouldn't speak as to the racial poetry, but i definitely enjoy her queer and sexual assualt poetry.

a couple of others i can't pull up rn

night by elie wiesel. genuinely guys, usually i don't like nonfiction, but i read this book for english nine YEARS ago, and it was such a beautiful book that i bought it when the unit was over. it's absolutely horrific, but.

radium girls by kate moore. was my special interest for years and years and years, and still definitely a comfort book.

genres?

honestly for books i just wander through barnes and noble and see what strikes my fancy

it really depends on my mood, like, i have tv shows/movies for background noise while i do homework/chores, tv shows/movies for when i'm trying to fall asleep, ones to watch with other people, ones to watch by myself...

i like watching a lot of documentaries. on Netflix, i recommend keep sweet pray and obey, brain on fire, athlete a, the volcano: rescue from whaakari, and take care of maya. also, i can't remember the name, but the boston marathon massacre one.

also, hannah gadsby? great comedian 10/10 recommend. i've loved the shows since the first came out in 2018. not watched the most recent ones yet. also rec the book.

i guess mainly action and fantasy. and then documentaries, and sometimes medical dramas.

medical drama wise i've watched greys anatomy, house, new amsterdam, parts of the good doctor, and the first couple of episodes of scrubs.

OH FOR MY BOOK PEOPLE IF YOU'RE EVER IN CHICAGO, GO TO EXILE IN BOOKVILLE ITS WONDERFUL!!

everytime i go to chicago i go to exile in bookville. if yall want the website link,

sorry this got so over the top lol

[goddesspharo]

emoji fic asks: 🥺🌞✅

(let it be known that i resisted a very strong urge to send you the WIP emojis)

[fic emoji ask game!]

If you had asked me about the WIPs, it would basically just be wildly out of context make outs!

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

I don't know that I feel strongly enough about my own writing to be "in the feels" about it as I'm writing, but I do have a soft spot for when the more emotionally closed off character lets their guard down a bit. The first use of a pet name is always a good one (when that first "baby" hits, just know that I'm patting myself on the back for throwing it in there), something I was NEVER one for until they had Selina Kyle use it so deftly in The Batman. (It's all about how COOL the person saying it is and how much of a dweeb the person they're saying it to is. Matt Reeves was a real one for translating that specific bit of their dynamic from the comics so well.)

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

I almost always do the bulk of my writing at night. Alas, what I prefer (reasonably early at night, maybe when I don't have to be up early the next day) and what actually happens (always starts around 11pm the night before I have to be up at 6am the next morning to go to work and be on call) are not the same. Basically, nearly every fic that I have written in the past year has resulted in me being sleep deprived the next day.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Every once in a while, I see that tumblr post that is some variation of "look at me writing the same story again" (or conversely, Nick Miller's "there are only seven types of stories") and I feel like that's BASICALLY me these days? Am I just writing the longest "idiots fall in love" anthology? Sometimes the idiots are different and there are extenuating circumstances, sometimes they fall into hate first, sometimes they're not even gonna call it love, but that's essentially what I'm doing. One day, someone's gonna be like GIRL, FIND ANOTHER ANGLE and then maybe I'll tackle dog vs zombie.

Speaking of Nick Miller, I do feel like Jake Johnson was right on the money when he recently said, "Whenever I'm writing something, if there's not a love story, I don't know what it is." (Hilariously, he said that while promoting his movie Self-Reliance which only really works in the twenty minutes he lets it get rom-com lite with Anna Kendrick so he should've stuck with that instinct MORE.) I don't need or want all stories to be love stories, but I find that it grounds them a bit to have some sort of emotional connection involved. But recent fics aside, I'm also less of a plot-driven fic writer so of course I'm saying that. That said, I tend to usually have one person be wiser to the relationship dynamics than the other person. They're almost never on the same page until they are because I don't know how to sustain even my own interest if everyone is transparent about their feelings from the very beginning. Someone ALWAYS falls first and my favorite thing in the universe is to sprinkle just enough in it throughout so that when it finally clicks for the other person, it's not a shock that the robot has fallen in love. On a more superficial note, you're always gonna get some pop culture references in anything that I write.

[k00297230]

Hello you unparalleled unicorns!

I looked at some of the seminars recently including the colour theory, 3D studies and drawing ones.

I didn’t find the colour theory one to be very useful, as I didn’t feel as though I learned much from it. I didn’t know about Pantone colours before and that they choose a colour each year, 2023 being viva magenta.

I did find the use of colour for cultural and historical references and influences to be something I wasn’t unaware of but it was interesting to see the different examples including postboxes in 1922 being coloured green in Ireland where they were red before to represent British rule. Also mailboxes being painted black for the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020.

I also wasn’t super inspired by the artists mentioned such as Janine Antoni, Stanley Whitney or David Bachelor but that’s just my personal opinion on it.

The 3D Studies seminar, I was interested in learning more about how different artists approach constructing pieces and their method.

I found the line of “3D engages with the physical and tactile elements of our environment” to be very insightful as we looked at the different elements being:

Form. Structure. Texture. Volume. Weight. Space and Location.

Two of the artists we looked at that I quite liked included Junko Mori and Phoebe Cummins.

Junko mori deals mainly with metal work which doesn’t really interest me but the way she can bend rather textureless sheets of metal to create texture in her pieces is really cool.

Pheobe Cummins works with raw clay in its natural form and experiments with lighting in her work. Her piece for the Women’s Hour Craft in 2017 really grabbed my attention in relation to my project. She uses clay like usual but makes a fountain, where the water slowly destroys the clay it hits. This is supposed to represent the fleeting beauty of flowers but sparks a similar comparison to Urs Fischer’s Dasha and the memento mori associated with that piece.

The Drawing Seminar mainly talked about the importance of drawing in developing ideas for or project and what drawing is. I thought the seminar went on for a while too long explaining this however.

I found this seminar to mainly introduce a bunch of artists to me such as some famous ones such as Rembrandt, Picasso or Michelangelo. I discovered some new artists such as Donald Teskey and his Irish landscape work, Peter Blodau and their urban drawings, Dennis Greffield and the use of charcoal in their architectural studies as well as Nick Miller.

Nick Miller in particular is interesting to me as he draws landscapes from inside his mobile truck studio taking nature and placing it in a new setting much more man-made. It changes the context of which we see things as a passive viewer and the perspective we have of an otherwise ordinary landscape piece, simply by distorting the space it’s in. I find that sort of warping of perspective to really add a lot more depth to his art.

[biggestsimponhere]

Hello hello ~~ 500 followers so exciting 🎉 🎊 I am so excited to see ur doing a ship event, I have never seen New girl on a ship event before and I would absolutely love to be shipped with any guy from that show.

Nickname is Eli (pronounced El-ee). Zodiac sign is Gemini, I’m awkward not like Jess awkward but I am terrible at conversations at first. I definitely overthink everything I do and It isn’t until I’m comfortable with someone that I truly don’t have to worry about what I say or how I act. Anyways my brain sort of switches topics easily and quickly but then I go back to whatever I was talking about. I love dumb jokes and puns. Favorite artist? In Kpop it’s TXT and then “western”, well it changes all the time but right now it’s Harry Styles. Favorite food is ice cream, (that counts right?) I’m the type of person that gets obsessed with something then fixates on it for a long time. For example I play the same songs over and over, I watch the same shows over and over, and movies as well. Have an obsession with Kpop and marvel (I was gonna request for marvel but then I saw New Girl and was like woah I’ve never seen that for a ship event before so props to you!) I’m 5’8, curly shoulder length dark hair, tan skin, wears big square gold glasses. Pronouns are she/her. I love to dance, I’m no expert but I used to do dance covers and I play just dance all the time. I’m a people pleaser, it’s a real problem, conflict terrifies me but I’m trying to get better. And to be honest I’m a mooch, I know that’s not good but I have spending problems okay! I’m working on it! Anyways I’m getting by. Otherwise I’d consider myself a pretty average person. Idk if any of this makes sense but hopefully you can get something out of this. Thanks so much in advance and congratulations again!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH, also ive never seen new girl on a ship event either and since i love the show i decided i’d add it. I AM SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG. (NOTE: THIS EVENT IS NOW CLOSED BUT WHEN I REACH 1,000 FOLLOWERS THERE WILL BE ANOTHER SIMILAR EVENT)

I ship you with nick miller ♥️

I feel like you and nick would compliment each others personality very well.

The Cancer-Gemini relationship may seem to be an unlikely pair at first, but as both make a few compromises and adjustments, it can become a stable, long-term relationship. For Cancer, they should be more open to new possibilities and change with Gemini. Gemini needs to be more expressive of their feelings.

Nick would definitely love listening to you talk about whatever it is your obsessed with at the moment

He would also love making random jokes with you whether they be real jokes or dad jokes.

He seems like the type of guy who would pretend to hate puns but secretly love them

Would go out of his way to bring you your favorite ice cream literally whenever. You’re happy? Ice cream, your sad? ice cream, your angry? how’re you gonna be angry when he gives you your favorite ice cream?

He would try to play just dance with you but would ultimately give up and just lay on the couch behind you and tell you how beautiful you look and how good you are at the game

He would be happy to let you mooch off him even if he’s not doing very well at the time

Would definitely stand up for you in arguments

[hgghgfd]

On The Street, February 1988

Knocking on Nick's Door An interview (sort of) with Nicholas Cave

On The Street, February 1988

Interview by Rob Miller

Collected by Katherine B.

Saint and Sinner, Misogynist and Misanthropist... as famous in his own way as AC/DC or INXS (Australia's most well-known musical exports), Nick Cave is a bad boy of international proportions these days. Recognized as one of the major talents of the '80's in culturally elevated circles from London to Berlin and New York, there's no small irony in the fact that Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (or even The Birthday Party for that matter) are virtually unknown to the average music-listening Australian. And out of those that do acknowledge Cave in his own country, a fair proportion can't decide whether they love him for the brooding emotional soundscapes he and the Bad Seeds conjure or despise him for the blatantly arrogant attitude he displays to his listening public.

In equal parts misanthropic, exceptionally talented and wantonly self-destructive, it's also kind of unfortunate that the notoriety surrounding Nick Cave (which he does little to dispel), the tales of the man's narcotic over-indulgence and prima-donna arrogance have tended to overshadow the erratic brilliance of the Birthday Party/Bad Seeds career. Speaking for myself, a shameless fan since the early days of the Birthday Party, rarely have records been so eagerly awaited or as obsessively consumed as those by Nick Cave and his cronies. Yet in all that time I've never felt tempted to shoot up hard drugs just because that was part of the Nick Cave mythology. The price I've paid has been when my interest spilled over into curiosity to interview Cave, who's hardly the most receptive candidate for questions (which with the reputation is perhaps understandable).

Certainly when trying to separate the Man from the Myth, when you're second in a line of four phone interviews is a quest only for the foolhardy, especially when the questioning turns to the relationship between Cave's fabled decadence and his creativity...

"You're asking me if I take drugs?"

No, I'm not. I don't care particularly. I'm just interested in the what makes the records the wonderful experiences they usually are...

"Well, I guess I do. I don't know why you're looking for external factors. You're talking to the reason why those records are wonderful, I don't think that's got anything to do with drugs. I'm not on drugs at the moment, and as you can see, I'm still speaking with wit and intense as ever..."

Actually one gets the impression that these days Nick Cave would rather be known as a workaholic rather than for any other kind of obsessive behaviour.

"The last year I've been working my arse off," confides Nick. "It may not appear that way since no product has come out, but I'll reap the fruit this year. I've written a novel. I have two books coming out this year. I'm involved in a couple of films. Um, yeah, records and that shit."

Is music still a primary focus for you? Do you still consider yourself primarily a musician?

"I've never considered myself that way, but yeah, it's still very important to me. I've always felt that my areas of creativity were fairly open. But it's only in the past couple of years that I've actually had the chance to become involved in other things."

Long noted for his innate and formidable 'sense of the dramatic' by former Rich kid turned video producer Evan English, Nick cave has been based in Melbourne for the past few months where he'd been playing the part of Manyard in Ghosts (of the Civil Dead), a film about life in a high-tech maximum security prison. "I played a psychopath with a leaning towards self-destruction and shooting his mouth off," explains Nick. "It's about the authorities deliberately provoking a situation, where a series of violent events occur, so that the prison can be put under what's called lockdown, that's kind of twenty-four hours a day locked in the cells without any privileges or whatever. And there's that story plus the following of one particular character who goes into the prison a smalltime criminal and comes out a killer."

Along with Mick Harvey and Blixa Bargeld, Nick Cave will also be scoring the music for Ghosts, but is adamant that it will bear little resemblance to the Bad Seeds.

"The Ghosts film is the first I've done any music for. Apart from Wings of Desire, but that was only playing a couple of songs from our repertoire on stage. It wasn't actually doing music for the film as such. For Ghosts, I'm actually having to compose music to suit a certain type of atmosphere and so forth to kind of please the producer. And in that way it's kind of the first time I've had to do anything like that and it's quite a challenge. Usually I'm only pleasing myself..."

With songs like Knockin' on the Joe and Jack's Shadow (based on the story of Norman Mailer's friend Jack Henry Abbott, who wrote In the Belly of the Beast), Nick Cave has long been interested in the brutality and twisted emotions of the jail experience. Yet once again, attempts to prove Cave's seemingly fatal attraction towards these things merited an unenlightening response.

Have you mellowed over the years or are you still drawn to these sorts of things?

"I've written lots of prison songs... there's two or three prison songs on the next album"

Yet it seems prison is only one of the ways you've attempted to deal with various extremities of experience...

"The basic theme in my latest record are death, isolation and prison, basically the same things I've always been harping on about..."

What about sex and violence?

"Yeah, well, sex and violence of course. (Said with barely a trace of humour.) There's a good deal of sex and violence in it."

Is it still in the production stages?

"We've recorded quite a lot of songs for it, but we're still interested in recording more. Basically we want to make a better record than the last one even though I'm very happy with the last one. And I won't be really happy until I've done that."

Is Your Funeral... My Trial your favourite of the Bad Seeds records so far?

"Yeah..."

Although it is as yet untitled, Mick Harvey, who OTS spoke to last week (but that's another story!) is confident that the new album will be more than just a worthy successor to Your Funeral... My Trial. Incidentally, Cave will also be contributing to the soundtrack of Wim Wenders' next movie (Paris, Texas), who he met whilst living in Berlin and between whom there is apparently a mutual respect.

In fact, diversity - surprisingly enough for those whose perception of Cave would favour him as an apathetic, drug-ridden layabout junkie - has been one of the characteristics of his career in recent years even if it hasn't necessarily improved his sense of humour or sociability. From the well-received album of covers, Kicking Against the Pricks, to Cave's long-awaited novel And the Ass saw the Angel, from which an excerpt, Atra Vigaro or the Vargas Barking Spider appeared on the Smack my Crack compilation last year, Cave has doubtless in his own inimitable fashion been hard at work.

Is the novel to be published soon?

"Yeah, it's being typed up now. There's still a few more weeks work left to do on it, but it'll be out this year sometime. But the first book that'll come out will be a collection of other writing apart from the novel of lyrics and extra-curricular writings called King Ink. My publishers are actually compiling it but I think it'll have hand written pages and the odd doodle and that punctuating it. That'll coincide with the album, which will come out in a few months."

And what of Nick Cave's immediate plans? Does he intend to stay in Melbourne?

"Well, I'm just here for two months and then I'll go to Berlin, I think. We plan to do a fair bit of traveling this year. We've got our eye on visiting Brazil and Argentina. I'd quite like to stay there for a while."

A few years ago you said you'd like to go to Mexico and be a gas attendant for a while, and the suggestion was, get away from the pressure for a while. Is having a lot of preconceptions and expectations foisted on you what's ultimately a drag about being Nick Cave?

"Well, it keeps me on my toes, I guess. I've never managed to do that; to cut myself off from obligations is a near impossible thing. But yeah, there is a lot of pressure to fulfill a lot of contracts, but ultimately that sort of situation is one I work best in."

Do you still enjoy playing live? It seems to me that you've always had a fairly ambivalent attitude, almost take us as you find us...

"Yeah, sometimes, I've always had the attitude that I can't really give anymore than I can give and I always try to give as much as I can. Basically that's the way people will find us and the way they'll have to take us."

It seems like a very brief tour that you're doing this time, only half a dozen dates spread over ten days...

"It seems to me like a very long tour!"

Will you only do one date in Sydney?

"I don't know. Are we doing a date in Sydney?"

Thanks for the interview, Nick! Reprinted with permission. Copyright by Rob Miller, 1988. Wholesale publication requires the written consent of the author. Contact site administrator for details.

[mywifeleftme]

180: Ky // Power is the Pharmacy

Power is the Pharmacy Ky 2023, Constellation (Bandcamp)

My streaming app’s stats tell me Power is the Pharmacy has been one of my most frequently-played albums of the year so far, and the physical LP has seen a fair few spins on my table as well. Though I’ve had the chance to see these songs developing over a number of live performances, with former Lungbutter vocalist (and pal) Ky Brooks’ music there was no way to really predict how the final product would sound. Their solo sets (usually using a small synth and variety of vocal pedals) run from elfin quirk to brutalist noise, while on the rare occasions all five extremely busy, geographically disparate members of their current band are assembled they make a formidable electronic-tinged heavy rock proposition.

Power is the Pharmacy falls somewhere between these extremes, a loose, jammy set of noisy art rock built around Brooks’ distorted, spoken-sung free verse. The shape and intensity of that vocal processing (Brooks’ chief instrument) varies from song to song: on the title track Ky sounds like a pair of berserk chat bots in a feedback loop, while “All the Sad and Lonely People” sort of approximates a vintage talk box. Ky’s lyrics weave dreamy associations, references to critical theory, and the occasional absurdist joke into a kind of visionary ramble:

the easiest things to heal are like unchewing something with a nice texture the harder things are like uncracking and come together sharply in a way that makes you worry about the integrity of your teeth it's like having a second secret set of teeth that do the opposite of what teeth do

and if the most powerful teeth are razor sharp and jagged the invisible jaw has just as much power it’s strong enough to put anything back the way it should be

To create Power’s music, Brooks improvised in studio with a small group of collaborators including electronic ambient musician Nick Schofield, jazz saxophonist James Goddard (AKA Skin Tone), and Andrés Salas of excellent Montreal-based Colombian punk band Bosque Rojo, then chopped and spliced these raw materials into loops. The backgrounds of these three musicians make a nice stylistic Venn diagram for where Ky’s music can be found, as does the presence in the additional credits of members of drone metallers Big Brave and experimental post-punks Gong Gong Gong. On “Revolving Door,” Ky dabbles in meditative drone, while “The Dancer” turns an arpeggiating synth loop and breakbeat-style drumming into something you could comfortably disassociate to at a club. Expansive album highlight “Dragons” even summons something akin to the classic Constellation Records post-rock sound, with its creeping pacing, waves of multi-instrumental distortion, and Farley Miller’s martial drumbeats.

Of course, the diversity of Ky’s collaborators also speaks to Brooks’ broad and deep connections within Montreal’s independent music scene, and to Power is the Pharmacy as an album defined by these relationships. The album is dedicated to Joni Sadler, Ky’s Lungbutter bandmate who died at just 36 from a brain aneurysm, and much of Pharmacy’s tone and lyrical content can be understood as Brooks’ efforts to process a profound grief. But there is also the sense of trying to bring a once-vital community back together, in the wake of not only the loss of Sadler but the isolation enforced by Québec’s draconian lockdown mandates. The pandemic has done few favours to an experimental scene already pressed to define itself apart from the Godspeed-adjacent wave of bands who found such remarkable international success, but Power is the Pharmacy is a testament to the quiet endurance of a generation of talented musicians and community builders, and the oblique paths of healing.

180/365

[smythewmu]

Fine, fine. In no partiular order with no numbers because, god, that would be a dick move now that I've thought about it but hey, you wanted tea. Enjoy the unvarnished truth of what I think.

Have you seen Sam's Evans abs? They're like a thing of beauty. Not to mention he's just hot all over. And a genuinely sweet guy when you talk to him. The converstion just flows so damn natually. And he does this smile that can just, light up your chest if that makes any sense? The dude is a ball of sunshine who just happens to have abs that make your brain melt. I've never had a bad time with him. Not even for a second.

I'm still convinced that Blaine Anderson- the ulimate short king. Has the best ass on campus. That thing is perky enough that you could bounce a quarter off it. I swear I find myself running into doors whenever he walks by. He's got this killer voice- to the point where I'm convinced that it's almost unfair that he's in a another glee club. The things I'd wanna do to Blaine understand are x-rated enough if video stores were still a thing, you'd put them behind the curtain at the back of the store to keep the general public from ever finding them.

Cody Miller has those dark eyes and those pouty lips that could make you jump off a bridge if he asked you. So be dangerous there. He's got this...way about him. This cool confidence that lures you in. Like he's waiting for you to come to him. Every word is just some tiny...lure that's so attractive it's hard to really put into words. Plus, pouty lips, which I've already said but fuck if I'm not weak for that sort of thing. He seems...steady, in a way. Even if the dude isn't really about realtionships as far as I can tell. He's having fun and he should be, as far as I'm concerned. He also is a bi-king. So hey, if you wanna try, go for it.

Kurt Hummel has this insane sexual energy that I don't think he knows he's doing all the time. Like he just moves his body in this way that leaves you breathless. He's also quick as a whip and hot as hell- even if he doesn't always think so. He can snap his fingers and get my attention from half a room away. He has a great ass and pretty eyes and the way he moves his hips like fucking hell like, damn. He's also the head of the Warblers and has this brain for leadership that I'm not entirely sure I, who is trying to get a poltics degree, will ever actaully be able to compete with. I'm just saying if you're going into battle and you want someone by your side. It's Kurt Hummel. Take no substitutes for that.

Hunter Clarington can be a dick but he has the body to back up just how much of a dick he can be. Which is sort of the perfect combo when it comes a to that sort of thing? You gotta be sorry for poor Nick, his roommate because...god. He must suffer with how much Hunter can both pull any guy he wants but also- really needs his sheets done the right way on his bed. Everythiung ordered and all that. But hey, the guy takes his shirt off and pretty much every brain sizzles. Guy has a jawline that can cut glass and the power of him in a tiny underwear? Hunter could rule the world if he wanted.

Nick's adorable but he's got this like-...brain that's really attractive but also it makes it hard to get past it? Like, he's witty and funny, and hot as hell. But he's so smart that I'm pretty sure my usual teasing flirting bounces off him like armor. But he's a genuinely good guy. He wants to fight for human rights. You don't exactly get more good guy that that. Dude is gonna save the world one day and there isn't a way around it.

Elliot is a god damn glam rockstar and don't let the painted nails scare you off. Guy is a genuinely good dude. I'm not always sure he has the best opinion of me but I am sort of a slut and you know, rich. So maybe that's for the best but he is a good guy. I know he cares about the people around him and that's like, the best thing you can ask for.

Jeremiah is my roommate and he's god damn beautiful. Like actually beautiful. Dude can walk into a room and stun you with that beauty. Long hair that's distracting as hell and like, just so damn pretty. Though that's kinda undermined when I trip the hell over him because the dude got so damn high out of his mind he thought the floor was better than his bed and he suddenly has a craving for some mcdonald's food they stopped ordering in the nineties.

Finn Hudson is a lumbering tree of a man and the least I say about that man the better as my opinion isn't exactly the best. Some people like him though, so you might be in luck.

Stevie Evans is Sam's brother and he's got this whole, wholesome country boy, farm boy thing going on. He's genuinely sweet. Though, I don't think he's the type to take help when it's offered. Or at least he didn't when I did. But he's got a great smile and brain full of thoughts that are some of the most interesting things I've heard. No idea what his sexuailty is but hey, if you want a good guy who's also hot. He's definitely up there in that list.

Biff is... a lot. I mean he's hot as fuck. Dude can give you a dirty look across a room and I swear someone of any gender will have to take a second to take a breath and maybe cross their legs. He's cut from the same cloth as me in a lot of ways. You have a certain tell when you're a rich boy who enjoys sex on an insane, almost unhealthy level. I think there might be a good heart in the mess of all that but hey, you never know. I could say the same thing about me though.

Dave Karofsky seems nice enough. If a little guarded. I do get the big "I'm never telling the whole truth" feelings from him but other than that he doesn't seem like the worst dude in the world. Though, I think I had like- two conversations with the guy. And one was about which room he was trying to get to. So I'm not exactly the Dave karofsky expert over here. Sorry to disappoint.

Puck is like, hot but in that unattainable straight guy sort of hot. Like, hey if the dude was shirtless in a magazine when I was growing up. I would have fucking looooved that magazine but him not batting for my team, sort of kills my juice those days. Or at least that's the reputation he has. Dude's hot but it might just be sort of like a painting. You know? Hot from far away but a mess up close. But since i've never really talked to him, I can't give you all the details you might expect.

Ryder Lynn is cute but in like a nerdy jocky way? If that makes any sort of logic sense? Like the way you'd cast a nerd in a CW show. When he'd have this moment where he suddenly took off his shirt and you were like "Oh no, he's hot". Though, dude is doing game design and...I think is in a glee club? Or wants to be? Or doesn't?" Honestly- my lack of information on the guy is actually sort of annoying. But hey, again. I can only tell you what I know and that isn't much. Even I have my limts on knowing everyone.

Jacob once told me he wanted Rachel Berry's Chicken Tenders and to this day I've never gotten over it. I don't know what to tell you, other than I can't handle that phase and please, please, never leave me in a room with him.

Mason. He's super new and super shiny. Very, very cute. He's...full of surpises based on the time I've spent with him. I think he's pan or bi as well, dudes a total bottom though. A self admitted one. So if you go into those waters, I'm pretty sure you gotta bring a strong voice and a stronger hand. He's a fun time though. I mean I certainly think so.

Artie seems nice enough- I can't exactly say much about the guy other than he always has a camera in his hand. Which, you know, makes sense since his degree is all about that sort of thing.

@wmuhummel, @wmumcintosh, @wmumase, @wmu-ryder, @wmu-artieabrams, @wmu-ryder, @wmublaine, @wmupuck, @steviebevans-wmu, @karofskyy, @wmupuck, @wmucody, @elliottgilbert-wmu, @nickduval-wmu, @samevans-wmu, @finnhudson-wmu, @wmujeremiah,

Always love to hear a good ranking, spill all the tea you have.

[natromanxoff]

Smash Hits (January 27 - February 9, 1988): 113/?

Credits to Michael Kane.

What The Heck Is The Drummer From Queen Doing Singing With A Group Called The Cross (Who Sound Exactly Like, Um, Queen)?

It appears that Roger Taylor, the bloke who's forever parked behind a drumkit in Queen, has had enough of his relative obscurity. For not only has he decided to form his own rock group, The Cross, he's also made himself lead singer!! He describes his new shebang as "a bit more contemporary than Queen, a bit harder and less theatrical" (even though the new single, "Shove It", sounds remarkably like a Queen "number"). Roger also reckons that…

• "Shove It"'s uncanny similarity to Queen is, in fact, deliberate. "Yeah, we've nicked lots of bits from old Queen tracks, but that's part of the humour of it. Is it a piss take of Queen? Only in a kind sort of way and Freddie loves it — he came into the studio while we were recording, flipped out over it and stayed all night."

• Queen are quite "mega" really. "They've ended up being seen as this mega, mega thing, so that everything's like mega. You know what I mean? There's more lights than you've ever seen before, a bigger stage, everything larger than life. There's nothing wrong with that at all and I think they're great, but they've been going a long time. They don't tour any more, partly because they don't need to, also because I don't think it's that good an idea for them to be working all the time and constantly touring."

• Freddie Mercury's a touch... "Eccentric, but he's doing exactly what he wants to do. Is he a bit loopy? No, um... he's just very very eccentric. I mean, just look at him and that Montserrat Caballe opera thing (the "Barcelona" single) — that's a very eccentric thing to do. Freddie is a one-off though, a very special bloke."

~~

Dear Noir Type,

Me and my fellow cohorts (friends) and other Queen fans are particularly fed up about your recent writing about Queen.

A little bit of mickey taking is acceptable but the last four episodesin the history of Smash Hits have been the slightest bit irritating (understatement of the year). The piece on "The many faces of Freddie Mercury" was totally unnecessary and the captions particularly offensive. About the only piece concerning Queen that wasn't particularly nasty was the review of the video of The Magic Years BUT, an inset with a bad caption was totally unnecessary. Queen did change the history of rock with the epic "Bohemian Rhapsody". Most people have told me to write to you about this.

How EMAP Metro and EMAP Newspapers can have two totally different views about Queen is beyond my train of thought. The Kettering Evening Telegraph has done some good reviews on Queen — why not follow their example? Why not take the mick out of Five Star or Bon Jovi instead? IT MUST STOP!

Yours, pretty angry, David Miller, Cambridge.

I knew a bloke called David Miller once. He was very small and wore National "Health" spectacles and a side "parting", and he wasn't much cop at mathematical logarithms and none of the girlies wanted to touch his bottom because he was a bit of a sap (see sap: an adjectival description) though why anyone would desire this unsavoury gesture is beyond me anyway. Some people chose to call him "Windy" so as you can clearly see it's all falling into so-called place, is it not? Byeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

[crack-belleillumina]

Finished House of Ashes.

The team is pretty much: Salim and Jason with a love triangle but there's depth and trauma.

Me at Salim and Jason: SASS MATES. Jason has such sass and the only one that can outsass him is Salim and I adore it. They're also cold and warm sort of sass. I want a reunion of just Salim and Jason meeting and just reminiscing and just happy. And still sassy af.

The love triangle: me screaming at the screen that ERIC, RACHEL AND NICK CAN JUST POLY. Like let me poly. Like Rachel seriously has a type and Eric and Nick pretty much are it. But I swear, I am quite interested and impressed on how they handled the whole thing when it comes to the "talk" if player handles it well.

Me @ the curator: Curator, want some recommendations? Do you accept concrit?

Like yer collection of stories needs more oomph.

Me @ the vampires: MANAGEABLE NARGACUGA!

Me @ Miller and Brooks: Okay, what's Winterfold and What is the overarching plot of this thing.