#because i had more thoughts and didn't want to take over the post

[thankskenpenders]

Today we got some news regarding a big change for the Ian Flynn's Q&A podcast, the BumbleKast. As outlined in a blog post by Ian, starting in 2025, all Sonic-related questions submitted to the show will first need to be screened by Sega. (I have to assume this is also why Ian announced they'll no longer be doing live Q&As starting next year.)

Frankly, I can't say this is particularly surprising.

While the BumbleKast is ostensibly a podcast about Ian's work as a freelance writer for all sorts of things, and also just a place for him to shoot the shit about stuff he likes, he's still predominantly seen as The Sonic Guy. Sure, he also does a bunch of other freelance work for other series, and original comics like Drogune, and he's also the narrative mastermind for the whole Rivals of Aether franchise these days, but it's his insights into what goes on behind the scenes with Sonic that people really care about. Your average Sonic fan can't just go up to Iizuka or whoever and ask him a question about the current state of the lore, but Ian's inbox is always open.

Because of this, I've thought a lot about the BumbleKast's place in the fandom and The Discourse in recent years. Ian wants to be as open and honest as he can about his work, and I think that's admirable. To me, hearing about creators' struggles and the shit they go through just to get a story out the door tends to make me sympathize with them more. Sometimes a story just doesn't turn out as well as you'd hoped, but you're on a tight deadline and all you can do is move on to the next project. I've even softened a bit on Penders over the years as he's shared more about the absurd situations and odd creative demands made behind the scenes at Archie. Unfortunately, not everyone has that mindset.

Ian's basically always had obsessive haters who were eager to take everything he says out of context to try and stir up shit, but that used to be contained by the niche nature of the Archie comics. Most of the fandom didn't give a shit about what Ian was doing with Sonic and Sally's love life or whatever. Most of the fandom wasn't even reading those comics. But Ian's gone from being a writer for a non-canon spinoff comic, to being the initial lead writer for the first ever canon Sonic comic series, to being the new main writer for the games themselves as part of the official Sonic Lore Team. Way more Sonic fans care about his work now, and when he's so open about his work that makes him an easy scapegoat.

It feels like damn near every week on Twitter Ian's personal trolls have posted yet another BumbleKast clip out of context to rile up the fandom and make it look like he has no idea what he's talking about or like he has some kind of agenda. And, unfortunately, people often fall for this. Of course, it also goes the other way, with people more sympathetic towards Ian taking things he says about Sega and framing them as proof that Sega has no idea what they're doing with the brand. Which, well, let's be real, isn't always the most unreasonable thing to think, given Sonic's rocky history. But I'm surprised it took this long for Sega to start paying more attention to what gets said on the BumbleKast when fans use it so regularly as a source of drama.

I've also often felt that they just need to be WAY more selective about what messages they respond to on the show. Questions Ian can't actually answer due to NDAs, questions that are borderline incomprehensible, "questions" that are really just fan ideas. And the haters, oh, the haters. Ian does not need to put up with angry rants about how he should make SonAmy canon or what the fuck ever. Even if Ian's willing to put up with it, as a listener it can make the show just super unpleasant at times when someone aggressive pops up with an inflammatory question. There have been entire BumbleKast Mini episodes I had to skip because they were just obsessive critics of Ian's paying to grill him on a dozen different things and treat him like an idiot.

But at the same time, I get why the show got to be this way. It's become a part-time job for Ian with multiple new episode a week. Given how piss poor the pay tends to be for freelance writers, I can't really blame him for wanting to keep this secondary stream of income open, and to not have to refund people left and right for rejecting their questions. The man's got bills to pay. (And so does Kyle, for whom managing the BumbleKast seems to have become a full-time job.)

I dunno. The man's got the patience of a fucking saint. I would've quit the franchise if I was in his shoes, with people wishing he would die for shit like minor disagreements over Sonic's characterization or him misremembering an obscure old lore thing. While I do hope that Sega doesn't keep too tight of a leash on him moving forward, and I hope that he's still able to speak his mind about his work, part of me also hopes that having to be much more selective about Sonic questions results in less bullshit like this.

[yuvany]

꒰ 🥊 ꒱ ENHYPEN IN THE RING

// ENHYPEN as boxers and you're their number one prize.

─── ( on point ) OT7 x female reader contains : fluff + violence mentioned + pet names + est relationship + cameras + boxing!au + non!idol enha + not proofread 887 wc

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

Being in the boxing ring felt natural to him, but to you, it just felt as if you were praying for Heeseung to be alright every time he fought someone bigger than him. You didn't worry too much as you knew how talented he was and how he managed to beat people who mocked him for him size. Seeing someone fall to the ground never felt this relieving. You rushed up and enveloped his face in between your palms as you pressed a kiss to his lips for his victory. "Worried? For me?" He asks when you both are on your way home. "Yeah, what if you got really hurt?" You said, fidgeting with your thumbs, avoiding his gaze. "I'll be alright, yeah? I wouldn't want to worry you." Heeseung takes your hand in his.

(rest of the memebers below the cut)

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

always worried what you thought of him doing this sport. He knew the dangers of this sport, and he knew that he could get injured really badly, but something always pushed him to continue. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush. During matches, he'd always contemplate if he should quit or not after seeing other boxers bleed from their noses while being knocked out. That anxiousness quickly disperse as he sees you in the crowd, jumping and cheering his name. He puts on a smile for you. Some time later, Jay asked, "what do you think of me doing boxing?" You take a moment to think before answering, "I'm really happy that you're doing something you like, and I'll always support you." You reassure with a kiss to his cheek.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

He adores the comforting speeches you give him before each match. How they always manage to calm him down when his nerves were playing a trick on him. "baby, I'm nervous." Jake says, his hands clutching to your side, not wanting to part from your closeness while his coach is urging him to hurry up. "Why are you so stressed, Jakey? We both know how awsome you'll be. Just go and do what you love." You say, slowly walking towards the ring so that he can jump in. Jake sighs and hums at your words. "You'll be watching, right?" He asks, his puppy eyes gleaming under the bright stadium lights. "Of course." You say, patting his back before you shoo him inside.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

Sunghoon loves showing you off to everyone just as much as you love cheering him on. Post-match, you'd be the first person he'd run over to as the cameras pan over to the couple. He doesn't care about what anyone says or sees, and instead he presses his lips to your face over and over again making sure that the camera and audience does not miss his love for you. Sunghoon is a firm believer that your love is worth more than any prize he'll ever win in his boxing career. After each match he'd win, the internet would be flooded by news making headlines of you and him, which always managed to put a smile on your face.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo didn't brag about his wins, even though he had a swelling ego, he was humble. Before each match, he'd wrap his arms around you, his head snuggled against your shoulder as you pat his back, urging him to let go and get ready for the fight, "Sunsun, it's time to go now." He doesn't let go and you just sigh. "Promise me that we'll go on a date later." He compromises, and you easily agree to it, because it's a date? While in the ring, you cheer the loudest, and he hears you since you're standing in the first row, but when the match is over and he is the clear winner, he doesn't hesitate to shoot you a quick wink.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

You loved watching him combat his friends during practice, but when it was time for the competition, you were starting to feel a bit anxious - your heart beating like a drum against your chest. You whisper a soft "good luck," before he gives you a bright smile and climed into the fighting arena. You watched with dread filling you up, and all you cared for was his safety. Seeing him get hit, you jump out of your seat with your palms hovering over your agape mouth that opened due to shock. You try to reassure yourself that he'd be okay, and luckily he was. "You really gave me a scare!" You lightly hit his shoulder, and he just pulled you against his chest.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You honestly didn't worry too much about him when he fought. Riki is a strong person, both physically and mentally. While he speaks to his coach during break time, Riki wraps one arm around your shoulders lazily as he leans his body against yours. You can hear his short breaths due to exhaustion, but you don't pull away, even though he is sweating. With a nod, there is little time left to spend and he presses a kiss to your head before he rushes back inside. When he wins, he runs over to you with a bright smile as cameras are aimed at him. One interviewer shouts, "What do you think of the prize you're winning." "What do you mean? I've got her right here!" He shouts back as he motions to you.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Losing My Mind over Veilguard 8/??

See, I waited a perfectly reasonable amount of time before coming in swinging again but I actually cannot get over how dead the game is. Literally. (Me ranting about an early game quest in Minrathous incoming)

Spoilers below the break

So. The first time you go to dock town? And Neve says in one of seventy different ways "no you don't have to come with me, this is my home not yours, I can handle this myself if you want to stay back" ?(but the showing not telling argument is for another day so I'll refocus and conserve energy for another day). Anyways.

This quest. The one where you go into the chantry in Minrathous and surprise!

Dead bodies absolutely EVERYWHERE.

I took a screenshot and then lost it, but it's worth mentioning that in my game, Neve's line of dialogue above about tracking down family and friends of the deceased didn't even trigger. If it had, however, I still would have lost my mind.

Why, you might ask?

Because after counting, losing count because I was counting so high, and then recounting about seven thousand times I can confidently tell you that plus or minus two to three more corpses, there are EIGHTY SIX dead bodies in the CHANTRY. The holy center of an incredibly popular religion! And even if it weren't that! It is a massive grounds with EIGHTY SIX DEAD PEOPLE who were KILLED HORRIFICALLY BY THE VENATORI AND DEMONS. How are you going to have the time to track down next of kin for that many people? And WHY are we acting like this is NORMAL?!

Dock Town is played very one-note already as a neighborhood where sketchy things happen and people go missing and it's best to just keep your head down if you're not in a position to do something about it.

But oh my sweet baby Maker come onnnnnnn.

You aren't going to recover from this if you're this branch of the Chantry. Presumably, you've just taken a massive hit across all levels of your religious hierarchy and that takes time and training to fill. And dock town is poor as hell, so where are you going to get the funding to fix this sudden staffing issue?

How does this affect (per @housederiva's iconic posts) Viper? Ya know, the guy we have found out through datamining is literally the Black Divine?? All we see (in the scenario where Treviso is saved) is him sadly sitting outside the chantry going "we remember the fallen" and that's presumably for the people lost when the dragon attacked, with nothing spared for the (again, I can't not lose my mind over this) eighty six dead people who were devoted to the same cause he is!

A whole smattering of holy women have just been yeeted off the mortal coil and it means absolutely nothing to your immediate party save for some of the emptiest lines ever, the city as a whole, or in the larger lore of the game. At all.

There are so many moments like this that had me rapidly oscilating between screaming at my ceiling and looking exactly like this:

And this isn't even something they can pass off as being too tied to the source material and wanting to start "fresh". This is just lazy, empty, disappointing storytelling and it's why I lose my mind a little more every time I see an ardent defender of the game tell an older fan to "get over it" or "let go of your expectations."

Because having something like (so sorry) EIGHTY SIX DEATHS go down with actually NO ripples throughout the rest of the game coming from ANY studio, let alone one that used to kill this kind of thing, is crazy to me. And I will die on that hill, even if it means Neve just kind of skips over my body on her way to find my next of kin only to never spare me another thought again.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 20 🍒

"Baby Loves Me"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 8,823 (she's a big'un)

Summary: A blizzard, a wedding, family secrets, and two people who can't stop thinking about each other. Are these fateful events going to drive you apart for good, or bring you even closer together?

(Warnings contain spoilers beneath the cut)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place a few days before Christmas 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of health issues, oral (m & f receiving), Ellie has anger issues, use of guns for recreational shooting, jealous!Joel, mutual pining, reader wears makeup and dresses, unprotected piv, creampie, TW for minor heart attack and hospitalization (everything is okay in the end), getting back together and having a happily ever after. In this universe everyone is alive and happy.

Author's Note: this series was the first story I ever posted on AO3 and then recently here on tumblr. I had no idea so many people would love it, and it's currently my most liked, most commented-on, and most bookmarked work on AO3 ♥️ It feels so good to finally have this complete, but I will write some one-shots about this couple in the future, because part of me really doesn't want to let them go. Much love to those who stuck around and showed their support while I got this story hammered out. I love and appreciate all of you!

Please enjoy this playlist for your listening pleasure, songs that either appear in the series or provided inspiration

Series Masterlist

It's early when Joel wakes, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he puts his hand to his heart, eyes scrunched closed tight as he prepares himself for the increasingly painful palpitations. He grunts in suffering at the agony of the erratic pounding of his heart, body tense until it passes, and he sighs with relief, head in his hands as he runs his fingers through his greying locks.

It's been almost a week now that he's had these pains, happening every day now that Sarah's wedding day is nearing. He gets them on and off but lately stress has been catching up to him and reminding him he's not in his thirties anymore. Hell, he'd give anything just to be in his forties again.

He gets up to get a glass of water, quickly throwing on a shirt before going downstairs. The house is quiet though he can see the electric glow of the television light on underneath yours and Ellie's rooms. He hesitates just outside of your room, putting an ear to the door, hoping to catch some tidbit of your voice, some clue as to what you're doing in there, but it's quiet, just the low volume of something playing on TV.

With a sigh he goes down to the kitchen.

Alone with his thoughts, affected by the presence of you and Ellie under his own roof, he takes stock of his life, of all the moments he failed you when he should have been there for you.

That first night he set foot back in Austin after serving time in the Bexar County jail, wondering if he should call you, he'd gone instead to a bar and met Hailey. He didn't recognize her at first, but she'd come on so strong, and the alcohol ran freely that night, so by the time he'd taken her home and her warm, tight little mouth was wrapped around his cock, it was too late. He didn't expect that that one night would lead to her wanting more, but by then you were gone, tucked back safely away in Houston where he couldn't get his hands on you and where you could (he'd hoped) in time forget about him. You were too much of a good girl with too much potential to waste it on someone like him. Hailey was someone who was always going to be stuck in a small town, so he didn't have to worry he was holding her back. But he soon came to realize that all they had between them was fucking. Not that he'd ever minded it in the past, but after having you, experiencing what real love was like, what Hailey offered felt like a cheap replacement, and he just wasn't that man anymore. He knew Sarah hated her, so when he caught Hailey stealing from him he knew that was the last straw and ended things.

Sad to say he went back to his usual routine from before he met you. Working from sunup to sundown, coming home with new aches in his joints to a meal Sarah had had to cook herself, or pizza that had gone cold. On the weekends he'd be at the bar, either with Tommy or more often alone, and he'd find a woman and wind up at her place. He could never bring them back to his, not in his bed that he shared with you.

Seeing you in New Orleans that summer night had been a shock to his system. He thought he'd managed to get over you just a little, but seeing you, a little older than the last time, looking soft and happy and bright-eyed as you laughed with Tommy.. and that fucking rock on your finger that signaled you were taken. Something primeval in him stirred when he ran into you in that restroom hallway, your lips full and glossy from making out with his brother, jealousy surging through him that you'd be so willing to cheat on your husband-to-be with someone other than himself.. it led him to want you more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

Leaving you the next day had been the hardest thing, but he had to remind himself you were going to belong to another. He couldn't get in the way of that, not when he'd only shown his love for you by fucking you in a bar restroom. You were going to marry a military man and have a respectable life, that was what he wanted for you. To have a life with Joel would only make you sordid, ripe for gossip. He was old enough to be your father and you were in fact his his best friend's daughter. He couldn't sully your life with his mistakes.

On a last minute whim he'd come to your wedding, sat at the very back as you were oblivious to him, staring into your husband's eyes as you spoke your vows, each word a piece of jagged glass in his heart. He'd left before you could see him, driving back to Texas at a high rate of speed, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Why hadn't he just objected? He could have done it, raised his hand and told the entire congregation that you were his god damn it. He would have led you out, carrying you bridal style, ripped your damn dress off you and fucked you senseless.

It was later that Tommy suggested the dating app. Joel wasn't a fan of technology, and in fact still had his old Nokia phone that Sarah was warning him was becoming obsolete and cajoled him into upgrading to a smartphone. Once she and Tommy had helped him with setting up a profile on eHarmony, the requests piled in. Women from all over the state showed their interest. He had his pick of almost anyone. While he went on a few fruitless dates (some of which actually ended up in sex) there were few that actually interested him.

Until Tess. She was so much like him, and more suited to his age. A divorcee, she knew what she wanted in a relationship and stuck by her values. Beneath her tough exterior Joel found she was actually very kindhearted, even sweet. She cared about animals, liked beer, and was a homebody. She'd resisted his charms at first, but eventually neither could give in to the spark they felt. It took some convincing to get her to marry him. She accepted only on the terms that he move to Boston. She'd visited Texas a few times on business, but she wanted to stay in the northeast, and Joel, in love again for the first time in years, acquiesced.

The problem was they were too much alike. Both wanted to lead, and while he was happy to let Tess have the reigns now and then, it became an issue. This led to more arguments, tense discussions over things that shouldn't have mattered. The divorce, when it finally happened, was a blessing in disguise. Joel followed Tommy away from Boston and found comfort here in Wyoming, in a place he could start anew.

Sarah had been none too subtle when she brought you up in conversation. "Did you know she's a teacher?" "She's single now, divorced actually." "She's in California with her daughter."

Every damn day there was a phone call or a text where you were mentioned. And now, with you here under his roof at Sarah's behest, it was apparent that she was trying to get you two back together again.

He knew he needed to speak with you about that comment you uttered, about "our" daughter Ellie. He'd done the math in his head, just to be safe, and had calculated that he could indeed be her dad. But he had to get the honest answer from you.

It'd be easy if you would at least acknowledge his presence.

Your cold shoulder is more like an arctic icy blast. Your refusal to even meet his eye is like an arrow through his heart. He wishes that you would at least glare at him, or say something sarcastic or hurtful, but your silence is the coldest thing, even with the blizzard outside.

He's hopeful during one moment the next morning, as he's going into the hall restroom while you're coming out. Freshly showered, you're wearing a towel around your body, skin glowing, hair combed back and damp. The steam that surrounds you from your hot shower makes you look like a figure from a movie, an ethereal angel come to earth. His breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, your beautiful eyes wide and plush lips parted. Then you resume your coldness, pulling your towel tighter around you as you go to your room. When he steps in he smells the jasmine aroma of your body wash still in the air around him his dick hardens in response.

Hearing that Sofia has arrived is the one bright spot in your time here.

You meet her at the Tipsy Bison after everyone has helped out shoveling snow off the path. You'd found yourself working next to Joel and said nothing to him, ignoring his silent appeal for you to talk to him.

Now the crew is indulging in some food and beer at the bar while you catch up with your cousin.

"How did you get in? I thought the roads were impassable," you tell her after a big hug and an introduction to her fiancee Ruby. It had come as a surprise to you when she'd told you she was marrying a woman, but Sofia had said she'd only followed her heart and didn't consider herself stuck to any sort of label. Ruby was the perfect person for her and there was no looking back.

"Tommy sent a pilot friend of his to pick us up from the airport when our taxi couldn't make it through the snow," she says, nearly knocked over as Ellie pummels her with a bear hug. "We were helicoptered in, like a couple of VIPs."

It's like old times as you share a booth altogether, different kinds of appetizers in the center of the table as you catch up on things.

"How did you manage to still stay friends with Tommy?" you ask when Ruby and Ellie go to make change for the jukebox. Hearing that Sofia is staying with Tommy and Maria during their visit, you can't help but wonder how other people can so easily put aside the past.

"I think it helped that we were friends before we started dating," she shrugs. "And.. to be honest, our relationship never got that serious. Not like you and Joel," she finishes in a whisper, darting a glance at the elder Miller brother, who's knocking back some beer with Tommy and a few others.

"Why do you ask?" Sofia continues.

"I don't know how to deal with being under the same roof as Joel," you admit. "Everything that he put me through.. I know we're only here for a few days but it feels like an eternity. It's becoming harder to avoid him."

"You should talk to him," she says gently. "You don't have to be best friends or anything, but you're a friend of the bride. You should at least be civil."

You sneak a look over your shoulder at him, just to find he's already staring at you. You quickly turn away.

"Does he know about.." Sofia motions with her head toward Ellie, who's at the jukebox with Ruby.

"No," you respond. "And he doesn't need to know."

"That's not fair to him," she softly scolds you.

"You are the only one I've trusted with this, Sofia. Please do not make me regret telling you."

Sofia is really the only family you have left. You never saw you father after that fateful night when Joel fought him, and your mother disowned Ellie when she came out, causing you to disown your mother in return. Your circle is small but faithful.

She backs off. "All right," she relents. "But what about Ellie? She'll resent you for keeping this a secret this long."

You watch your daughter, who's drifted from the jukebox to one of the pool tables, mindlessly spinning the cue ball upon the soft green surface. She's distracted when she sees another girl across the room, a pretty dark-haired girl around her own age, watching Ellie furtively, as if fascinated.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Ellie shouts, causing the girl to run away.

"Ellie!" you snap at her, and to your astonishment Joel walks past you to go to her. You freeze, watching their interaction, but all seems to be okay as they talk quietly.

"I don't know what to do for her. I don't know how to help her.. she's so angry, especially since the divorce. And Justin rarely ever sees her. The only thing he's good for is the child support." You swig your beer, itching to go and talk to her, but the stubborn side of you refuses to be closer to Joel than is necessary.

Sofia folds her napkin in sections. "She called me and told me about Riley.. and the little mishap at the mall."

Earlier that year, Ellie and Riley had been picked up by the cops for trespassing in an abandoned mall and vandalizing some stores. It was completely unlike her, and even though you both sought family therapy for all the issues you were going through, it didn't seem to be making much leeway.

"She doesn't seem so angry now," Sofia mentions, and you turn to see Joel and Ellie starting a game of pool. You both watch as she tries to pull off complicated trick shots and Joel just shakes his head in feigned frustration. Once again your gaze lingers too long and you lock eyes, but this time you offer a tiny smile, mouthing 'thanks.'

"Hey Mom, can I go with Joel and Finn? Joel said I have to ask you."

You look up from where you're steam-cleaning your dress for the rehearsal dinner tonight. "Where are you going?"

"It's near the woods on Joel's property. We're just going for a hike," she shrugs.

"I guess.. just behave yourself, okay?"

She grins, glad to have gotten permission. You follow her down to the foyer where Joel and Finn are getting their hats and gloves on. "Be careful," you tell them, though it's mostly meant for Joel.

"Of course. You're okay with her shootin'?"

"What?!"

Ellie manages to look chagrined. "I didn't think you'd let me go if you knew guns would be involved."

"Well you thought right!"

"I won't let her if you won't allow it," Joel offers.

"Come on!" Ellie groans.

"Just remember that you're on thin ice back home," you tell her without wanting to let on to the others about Ellie's troubled past.

"Somethin' the matter?" Joel asks, eyes darting between you and her.

"Nope," Ellie's all smiles when you hesitate to answer. "Let's get going!"

She and Finn race out the door into the snowy yard just as Joel stops for a brief moment. "I won't let her shoot if you don't want her to," he says solemnly.

The nearness of him, the rich baritone of his voice could easily bring you to your knees. It feels like a chore just to swallow that emotion and consider it dead, a mistake.

"Just be careful," you repeat, a smile flitting on your lips. Heat rises in your face when you see his gaze drop down to your mouth, his tongue peeking out to swipe across his own lips.

"You could come with us."

Your first instinct is to refuse, to keep that wall built between him and yourself. Good fences make good neighbors and brick walls keep people from reliving past trauma.

But damn it's hard to say no when he's here right in front of you, after all this time, and the parts of you that have healed just want to give in, to go into his arms again.

It's not a surprise when you're in the passenger seat of his truck, like old times. And though it's a newer model and the seats have warmers and the upholstery makes the whole car smell like it was just driven off the lot, in a way it still feels like summer 2003.

Finn's done this before, the apple of his grandfather's eye. Even with the skill of a child, he shoots with ease, knocking down most of the targets Joel had set up on a fence.

When it's Ellie's turn she's eager for the gun, but her practice shots are haphazard: off an old fallen tree, a random snowbank. She huffs in frustration.

"Wide right," Joel tells her. "You're flinchin'."

Ellie shakes her head. "The target's too small."

"I made it bigger than I should've. Eject the cartridge."

You watch your only child move with precision, handling the gun with ease despite being new to this. "I'm not flinching, the rifle just sucks."

You and Finn exchange a look, suppressing your laughter.

"Okay, give it." Joel changes places with Ellie, who quips, "It doesn't aim right, you'll see."

It's hard to tear your eyes from him as he sets up, moving with the ease of someone half his age. "A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it," he says, ignoring Ellie's teasing remarks. "Gentle, steady, nice and slow."

"You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?" she smirks, and when you laugh out loud Joel shakes his head, pulling off the perfect shot.

After, you rest on the tailgate of the truck while drinking warm beverages from your thermoses. Ellie and Finn gather their energy quickly enough, playing in the snow and chasing each other. It brightens your day to see your daughter smiling.

"I wanna apologize for the other day," Joel says, his eyes flicking to you. "I was outta line. I've apologized to Ellie too. I think she and I are good now."

You nod, somewhat relieved that he'd brought it up first. "I'm sorry too. I guess I get pretty riled up when someone tries to out-parent me."

Joel looks away, towards the mountains that peak their grayness against the clear blue sky. "He been outta the picture long?"

"Who? Justin?" You notice Joel winces at your ex husband's name. "Long enough. He was supposed to spend time with her for Christmas but chose his new wife over his own daughter. She didn't take it very well."

"Fuckin' bastard," he mutters. "Always figured there was a reason for me to not like him."

You give him a strange look. "You didn't know him."

"Didn't need to. He took you away from me. That's reason enough."

"Joel," you say quietly, both a scolding and a scoff. You remember his body against yours that night, the way your sheets bore his scent until the day before Justin came back from out of town and you had to wash away the evidence of your betrayal.

"I'm sorry I didn't go after you. There were a million opportunities and I failed each time."

You say his name again, with softness this time, your hand finding his, his palm almost completely dwarfing yours. You think about his fingers inside you, teasing you for the first time, showing you how to open up to him, and how you ended up giving away your whole heart.

In the moment where you can say the most heartwarming or romantic or even angry thing, what comes out of your mouth is: "You never accepted my friend request."

Joel looks puzzled. "What?"

"My friend request. On Facebook. I tried to add you but you never accepted it, so I canceled it." Cringing at your own words, how needy they sound, you take your hand from his, but he traps it within his own again.

"Darlin', I never look at that stuff. I only got one 'cause everyone else goaded me into it." His eyes look mirthful as he sees your doleful eyes.

"And that's how I found out about Tess.."

"Oh." The mirthful look is gone, replaced by a dark, blank look. The first marriage, the only marriage he ever had, so late in life, ended.

"What was she like?"

"Why do you wanna know?" He looks at the ground, as if the snow is so interesting. "What was that idiot fuckboy husband of yours like?"

You almost laugh, surprised that he's jealous, even after you've moved on from your marriage.

"He wasn't as great as I thought," you shrug. "But that doesn't matter now."

Joel smiles, agreeing. "Tess was.. we were good for awhile but you're right, doesn't matter now."

"Because we both turned out okay.. me and you."

He thinks it over a bit, eventually nodding. "Yeah.." His deep brown eyes meet yours, and you catch a glimmer of the man he was before, twenty years past, a single dad with a teenage girl and an interest in the new girl next door. "I'm sorry.. for everything. We happened so fast that my brain had to catch up with my heart."

You're afraid that if you think about it for too long you'll cry and never stop. "We don't have to talk about that.."

He nods, looking a little sad that you declined. "You're right, we don't."

"Look at you with all this land," you smile, gently teasing him to change the subject. "What are you gonna do with all of it?"

Joel shrugs, looking at his property, thinking again of the possibilities. "I might decide to turn it into a ranch, raise sheep," he shrugs. "They're quiet and do what they're told."

He's quiet another moment, before his voice drops an octave. "I'm really glad you came, babygirl.. it's really good to see you. Don't think I said that before."

A smile graces your lips, a genuine one, and the warmth of his words melts what's left of your defenses. "Joel.. there's something I need to tell you.. about Ellie.." The words are out before you even think.

Your heart pounds, taking residence in your throat as if to keep the truth from spilling out. Joel turns his whole body to you. His eyes search yours, without question or condemnation, as if he's willing you to say it because he already knows, because he just wants it made real.

When the moment passes it's a disappointment to both of you. It's getting later in the afternoon and you still need to get ready for tonight. The kids trudge back to the truck and you get in next to Joel in the front. There's a quietness that fills the space, thick and somewhat desperate.

The Tipsy Bison has gone through another temporary makeover for the rehearsal dinner: garlands of lights arch across the ceiling from beam to beam, creating a pleasant, dreamy atmosphere. People mill around waiting for the bride and groom who are running a little late. Drinks are served and tables of food boast different kinds of cuisine.

Ellie makes a beeline for the hors d'oevres, immediately picking out what she wants and stuffing it straight into her mouth as if she hasn't seen food in months. Joel watches her from the next table over, trying hard as hell not to call her out too harshly, but as his stomach growls he joins her in the hunt for sustenance.

A tray of pastel-colored macarons catches Ellie's eye and she takes a light green treat with her fingers. "What are these?" She scrutinizes it, taking a quick sniff.

"It's some kinda cookie.. or something.. how the hell should I know?" he grumbles.

"Pistachio," she grunts in disgust, putting it back on the plate.

"Well, now don't put it back, you've already touched it and sniffed it and everything.." Joel quickly pops the discarded macaron into his mouth.

"If you want 'em they're all yours," she says, giving his shoulder a couple heavy claps before moving on down the line of food.

He just shakes his head, looking around for you for the tenth time tonight, finding you with Sarah and her soon-to-be inlaws at the bar. His mouth goes dry at the sight of you in a dark red dress, long-sleeved, cinched at the waist, and he feels a familiar rush of blood to his cock as he eyes the thigh-length slit on one side of the skirt.

"That color is sensational on you."

You turn to the voice you've just heard, as the group you were talking with disperses.

"Hi," you tell the older, well-dressed man in front of you. "I don't believe we've met." But then it hits you, and just as he introduces himself you realize you already know his name.

"I'm Frank," he says, a Duchenne smile lighting up his features and crinkling the wrinkles around his eyes. He's handsome, and very friendly. And he was friends with Joel during his marriage to Tess.

He introduces you to his husband Bill, who regards you with a certain suspicion and gives a gruff acknowledgement to your hello. "He's like that with everyone," Franks explains in a stage whisper, while rolling his eyes. "He's just a big grump, but I love him."

"I'm a friend of the bride," you tell them after giving your name, and also introducing Ellie, who's arrived next to you with a plate piled high with shrimp, pulled pork sliders, and mini cheesecakes.

"She's a friend of Joel's," Frank tells Bill, as if to clarify.

"Um, yes.. I'm also a friend of his," you agree. Pretending to spot someone across the room, you excuse yourself, giving a subtle motion for Ellie to follow you, but she stays where she is, popping a whole shrimp in her mouth, eyeing the couple.

"There's a story there," Frank says enticingly as he sips his beer.

"What do you mean?" she asks, curious about the gossip.

Bill gives him a look and shakes his head. "She's a kid, she doesn't need your dramatic stories."

"Now I have to know!" Ellie insists.

Frank feigns annoyance. "Oh all right."

He weaves the tale of Joel and his wife Tess: happily married at first, so alike in attitude and hobbies. She thought she knew everything about the man she married, but when Tommy, in a drunken game of poker one night, recalled a certain young woman who Joel knew, a woman who could tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue, Joel told his brother, in a similar drunken state, that he remembered her fondly, missed her like crazy, she was the one who got away.

Tess wasn't the type to hound someone for details, but she didn't like there was a part of Joel's past that she didn't know about. Especially if that past was filled with him falling in love with and screwing a college girl. This naturally led to arguments that Tess refused to drop. Joel didn't want to relive that time with you, and insisted it meant nothing since you were well and truly out of his life.

But the damage had been done, and the thorn of jealousy had pierced Tess's heart. You were a stranger to her and still could not be defeated.

Frank recalled with suppressed glee the night Tess had stormed out on a dinner party, ranting at Joel about "not being able to get over a stupid ass teenager" and causing a scene for the others to eat up. It had embarrassed Joel deeply, but when news of Sarah's wedding had become known, Joel couldn't keep it secret from the friends of his ex-wife. He'd come to like them in his own way, especially Bill, with whom he shared a predilection for quiet and keeping to one's self. They hunted and fished like old times and soon enough both he and Frank were invited to the wedding.

"There's a saying that goes," Frank is telling Ellie, "'everyone can see it but them.'"

Ellie glances at you across the room, and then at Joel. You and he trade silent, surreptitious glances at one another, filled with longing. You glance at him and he catches you before you glance away, and vice versa. The signal between your gazes is irrefutable. There's something there, has been all this time. All it needed was a little meddling from Sarah to bring the spark back to life.

For the first time Ellie sees you as something more than her mother. She realizes you had a past, a life before she was born, and a fraction of that life was spent in love with a man she just met a couple days ago.

"Hey Mom, can you help?"

Hearing Ellie, you immediately shift into Mom Mode, stopping your own get-ready routine to assist her. She's in your doorway, holding out her wrists. She picked out the suit herself, but the cufflinks are something new.

"Did you get these from your dad?"

"Joel let me borrow them for today."

It's finally the day of the wedding, and as the ceremony isn't until the evening, the whole house is a kind of organized chaos from morning through the afternoon. As if your nerves weren't already on fire, Sarah had approached you early that morning (fortunately for her while you were drinking your coffee) and asked if you'd replace one of her bridesmaids who'd come down with a cold overnight and couldn't attend.

You'd reasoned with her that you didn't have a bridesmaid dress, but that was easily solved when it was revealed the bridesmaids were all wearing jewel tones, and the sapphire gown you'd purchased off the rack would do just fine.

You had anticipated being part of a crowd. Now you'd be at the front of the congregation, all eyes on you, especially Joel's.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you finish helping Ellie with her cufflinks and let her entertain you with whatever teenage thought is flipping around in her brain while you touch up your makeup.

"I'm supposed to meet with Sarah and the bridal party at the church. You can ride with me or you'll have to find a ride with someone else."

"Joel will take me."

You brush away some stray powder on your cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Maybe he could take both of us. Want me to ask him?"

"No--"

But she's gone before you can stop her.

You feel Joel's eyes on you as you during the short drive to the church, and you blame the heat you feel coursing through your body on the seat warmer.

"It's a nice thing you're doin' for Sarah, steppin' in at the last minute," he says, eyes finally on the road.

"I can't let down a bride in need," you say somewhat cheerfully. "She'd do the same for me."

"Maybe at your next wedding." Ellie pipes up from the backseat, and Joel's frown is not lost on you.

The lead-up to the actual ceremony is a blur, as it was at your own wedding fifteen years before. The bridal party clusters around Sarah, who looks radiant, as she promises she isn't nervous. You can sense her agitation in the way her knee bounces as she's seated, one of the bridesmaids doing a last minute touch up to her hair. The air is heavy with excitement, the scent of hair spray and perfume all around you, reminding you that you're flammable.

"Remember this day," you advise her, and she looks up at you with a grateful smile. "It goes by unbelievably fast."

You wonder if you'll ever have this again, the butterflies in your stomach as you wait for the moment when you see your man at the aisle, awaiting you. You were lucky to have it once. Twice would be an anomaly, considering you haven't had a real relationship in so long.

Joel knocks and, granted entrance, the bridesmaids flutter about, getting ready for their entrance into the church. The bride and her father are left alone, no doubt exchanging words of love before he gives her away to her true love.

You had no one to walk down the aisle with when you were a bride, and the memory threatens to cloud your mind as you take your small bouquet of white roses and camellias. "Canon in D" starts, and the line makes its way down the aisle, towards the altar where Theo and his groomsmen wait.

Situated at the altar, the congregation rises as the music changes, and Sarah walks in, arm in arm with Joel.

Your eyes are on him the entire time, and your heart feels to big to fit in your chest. You've never seen Joel in a suit, but this one is perfectly tailored to his broad, strong physique. His hair is perfectly styled, his grey visible through the curls you long to run your fingers through.

When Sarah and Theo exchange vows your gaze unexpectedly meet Joel's and this time neither of you look away. You catch the glimmer of a tear falling down his cheek, which he does not wipe away. The bride and groom's words seem to ring loud and true: a promise of love through hard times and illness; of love that only grows in each others' absence; of love that does not die even after death.

The reception is held at the Tipsy Bison, and you marvel at how it's managed to disguise itself once more from a saloon to an elegant wedding atmosphere. A lot of money has gone into the week's events, and you know it's all Joel's doing. He's giving away his daughter, sending her off in style, giving her a day she'll remember forever.

You watch Sarah and Joel during their father-daughter dance, a tradition you didn't get to have yourself. "I Loved Her First" by Heartland starts up by the band onstage, and it tugs on your heartstrings to watch them. In the back of your mind you see them, Joel still thirty-six and Sarah still fourteen. By the time Sarah and Theo have their first dance as husband and wife you're already in the ladies' room, splashing cold water on your face so no one can see you've been crying.

Later, the bridesmaids and groomsmen have scattered, dancing or drinking at the bar, mingling. You stay at your seat at the now nearly-empty wedding party table, fingers twirling the stem of your champagne glass.

Mired in your own thoughts, you don't realize Joel has approached, crouching next to you.

"Dance with me?" he asks, his voice nearly a rasp with how nervous he is.

Wordlessly you take his hand, which practically dwarfs your own, as he leads you to the dance floor. You fall into a rhythm as the band starts up "Tennessee Whiskey", swaying softly to the music. His right hand rests on your lower back, gently guiding you. Your heart pounds as you gaze into his eyes. You haven't been this close to him since the night you conceived Ellie, the fateful night that threw a wrench into all your plans.

"It was a beautiful wedding," you lean in close to be heard over the music.

Joel shivers at your proximity, the brush of your lips against his ear, and he pulls you a little closer. "I'm happy you came all this way for it. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," you affirm, your hand gliding up to his shoulder.

The air is thick with tension, much like in the days you'd first met. You have to turn away or risk your feelings made known to everyone here.

Ellie's at one of the booths with the dark-haired girl from a couple days ago, watching something on her phone. As the girl laughs you see Ellie looking at her with a warmth you haven't known her capable of for anyone else.

"She's going to hate me for having to take her away again.." you tell him. "I haven't seen her this happy in a long time."

He clears his throat. "Maybe now she has a reason to return." He nods towards Ellie and her new friend.

Your limbs stiffen a little in response. You're not yet ready to think about the future, the possibilities it holds. You've barely begun to mend your friendship with Joel.

"Maybe," you relent, quietly, a promise made in the ether.

Joel's silent as the music moves smoothly in the air between you. His grip tightens on your body as he asks, "She's mine, ain't she?"

You snap from your thoughts, your heart in your throat as you stop dancing. "Excuse me?" Your eyes bore into him, daring him to speak the truth for himself.

"The other day you said 'our daughter'.. the timeline's right, I'm not that bad at math," he manages a smile.

"Joel, I.." you shake your head. "It's all too much. I can't think about this right now."

"Just tell me the truth," he says quietly.

"What would it matter if she was?"

"It'd make a whole hell of a difference. Two daughters, two Miller girls. Don't you think somethin' like that would make me happy?"

For a rare moment you let yourself think about the day your mother came to get you, pull you back home to Houston seeped in shame and regret. She'd lied and manipulated facts to get you on her side. You vowed you'd never be like her or put Ellie through that.

"Yes, Joel.." you whisper. "She's yours.."

The joy that shines in his eyes is like nothing you've ever seen before. When his arms wrap around you your lips find his as if twenty years has never passed between you. Right there, in the middle of the dance floor, you're making out like teenagers.

"I want you," he growls.

"Let's get out of here," you agree.

You're barely through the front door of his home when he presses you to the wall, his mouth hungry for yours. You hadn't thought you'd experience this level of passion again, but time has not diminished it for either of you.

"Joel," you moan as he presses himself to you, the blunt hardness of his erection teasing you. "Fuck me, Joel.."

He groans at your words, body aching with desire as he goes to his knees in front of you, lifting the hem of your dress. He presses messy kisses along your thighs while his hands roam over your hips and ass, his breath hot against your skin as he approaches the spot he most wants to taste again.

"Been too long, darlin'," he murmurs as he pulls your lacy underwear down your legs. "Been too damn long since I had you like this."

You kick your panties off, hooking one leg over his shoulder as he dives in, tongue lapping at your sweet pussy like a thirsty man finally finding water.

He stays there, tongue dancing between your folds and then tickling your clit, tasting you so deeply that you cry out, head falling back, body arched towards him, fingers tangled in his hair. Joel feasts like a man starved, slurping you up, inhaling your scent that surrounds him. There's nothing about you that's changed. You're still so sensitive to his touch, responsive to his lips, tongue, and now fingers pressed deep inside, finding the spot that makes you scream while his lips purse around your throbbing clit.

He doesn't stop after you come. He feasts on you over and over again, making up for lost time, pleading for your forgiveness this way, literally on his knees until you scream his name, convulsing around his fingers, your honey collecting on his large digits. Only when you feel completely boneless does he remove them gently, licking up your syrupy taste.

Joel picks you up, your dress falling back in to place as he carries you bridal style up to his room.

All roads have led back to him. No matter where you went, no matter who you chose, Joel was always going to be there at the end of the path, your guiding light, even when you thought you hated him and when you thought he would never choose you again.

Even now, his body over yours, he's the missing piece of the puzzle. He teases you with his cock until you beg him to just put it in, to make you whole again. The glorious slide of his flesh into yours causes you both to gasp and your bodies still for a moment, taking in the significance of this act which you've done so many times before.

He's older now, but his vigor is not gone. He fucks you gently at first, then with impatience, as if he's afraid you'll dissolve like a dream in daylight. You'd know the feel of his cock among any other, the smooth outline and the ridges, the way he's molded his perfect shape into you, marked you years ago when you were a virgin, as if leaving his initials inside you. Mine.

You've never had a man to match him, never had someone so in sync with your body. He knows all your buttons, every dip and valley that his hand caresses. He's mapped out your skin like a cartographer, claiming the land in his own name.

You come almost too quickly the first time, before he flips you on top of him, gripping your hips as you ride him. "Love you," you moan as you come close to the edge again, heart and soul flying ahead of you into the bliss you've only really known with him.

Beneath you Joel's eyes go wide when you come, his hips lifting up into you, warmth spilling into your core.

"Babygirl," he whispers, a choked grunt as he turns pale, his skin clammy and sweaty when he loses consciousness.

As soon as Sarah and Ellie arrive at the hospital you hug them, overcome with worry for Joel's medical emergency.

"How is he?" Sarah asks, still in her wedding dress. Even in the emergency waiting room she's generating a lot of interested looks her way.

"They just took him in a few minutes ago," you tell her, secretly glad she wasn't there to see her dad in such shape. "I think it was a heart attack.."

"Oh my god," she puts her hand over her mouth and sits on the nearest chair, Ellie right next to her, comforting her.

"The party's winding down at the bar," Ellie explains. "Only a few people know-- Theo, Tommy, Maria.."

"We didn't want to worry anyone else," Sarah adds.

You look at her, heart aching. This is supposed to be her special day.. and if something happens to Joel--

Don't think like that.

The three of you sit down, drinking stale coffee from the machine down the hall. Soon Tommy joins you, Theo staying at the house to keep an eye on Finn.

The worst thoughts poke through your brain, teasing you and taunting you. But at last the doctor comes out, a guy even younger than yourself, green scrubs and white coat.

He talks with the family, letting them know the diagnosis. "It was a silent myocardial infarction, basically a mild heart attack," he explains it. "He's going to be fine and he's resting right now."

"A heart attack?" Tommy and Sarah exclaim together.

"At his age it's not uncommon.. he's fifty-six years old," the doctor checks the chart. "Now, we have him on some aspirin and beta-blockers. Tests show he doesn't have enough blockage to necessitate surgery, but he'll need blood pressure medication and to keep a healthier lifestyle."

"Can we see him?" you ask.

"Yes, two at a time, preferably. We want to keep him calm while we're monitoring him." He checks the chart again and looks at you. "You brought him in, correct, ma'am?"

"Yes.. why?"

"What was Mr. Miller doing before he exhibited symptoms of his coronary event?"

"Um.. what?" you pretend not to understand.

"What was he doing before he had his heart attack?"

"Mild heart attack," Tommy emphasizes.

"Well.." you race to think of what to tell him.

"I take it you were celebrating a wedding," the doctor says, seeing Sarah in her dress and the rest of you in tuxes and gowns and whispers a 'Congratulations' to her.

"Yes. Well, we danced.." you answer, and the doctor keeps his eyes on you as if he knows you're lying.

You go up to him, giving a subtle whisper. "We were.. intimate--"

"Sexual relations," he nods, writing it on the chart. "It's important for us to know what was a causing factor in his event. Now, two at a time can visit him."

Tommy and Sarah go first. He gives you a sly wink. "Y'all were fuckin'!" he teases, passing by. Sarah gives you an excited smile, to which you just purse your lips.

It's quiet but for the bag of Lays Ellie has opened, eating the chips slowly. "So you and Joel?"

You nod.

"But not just tonight.. a long time ago, right?"

There's an odd sensation in your stomach, as if the unspoken truth is fluttering around inside, beating its wings as it tries to find a way out. "I guess there's a lot I need to tell you. But only when you're ready."

Ellie seems to steel herself for whatever conversation is on the way, nodding at last, crumpling up the bag and tossing it in the bin. "Ready."

Seeing Joel in the hospital bed is a sobering visual. Years ago your age gap represented something illicit, scandalous. Now you're reminded that no matter what road you and he take from here, you will most likely outlive Joel Miller.

He's awake when you and Ellie go in. It's obvious he doesn't like being here, but in his current state is not fit to complain.

"Hey," you say softly, going to his side. "How are you feeling?" You caress his cheek with the back of your hand.

Joel's eyes close at your delicate touch, and when he opens them there's a warmth in them that can't be denied. "I've been better, babygirl," he says. "But I'm damn glad you're here."

He glances at Ellie, seated in a chair on his other side. "And how about you, kiddo? You okay?"

"Am I okay?" she says incredulously. "Dude, I'm not the one in a hospital bed." But her face clearly shows relief that Joel's all right. You also see her brain working over everything you've told her (well, the gist of it.. there are some things she doesn't need to know).

"I was so worried," you tell him, your voice soft and warm, all your feelings coming to the forefront. "I thought I was gonna lose you."

Tears appear in Joel's eyes, which he brushes away impatiently. "You ain't losin' me yet, baby. Not for a long time, not if you don't want to."

"Joel.." you whisper. "Do you really want to do this? After everything that's happened.. all the hurt we put each other through.. all the secrets.." you cast a glance at Ellie, who looks more reserved than you've ever seen her before. Sensing this is a moment you want to share alone, she gives a fleeting smile before she leaves, giving Joel a playful mock hit on his shoulder. Still smiling, Joel pats the space beside him in the bed and you snuggle in with him, his body warm.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Joel asks softly, eyes imploring you. "You're mine and I'm yours. That's how this thing of ours operates: you belong to me and I belong to you. Despite everything that's happened in the last twenty years, that's been the one constant." His hands grips yours, thumb running over your knuckles. "I don't care if I've got thirty years or thirty days left of my life. I wanna spend the rest of it with you, babygirl."

You search his eyes, seeing nothing there but the truth, laid bare and ready for you to either accept or deny.

He continues, "I don't wanna keep failin' you. I'm too much in love to let you go again." Then he gently lifts your chin, making sure you meet his eyes. "But only if you want me back."

Some would say you're on a precipice in the choice you're about to make, but it's not that difficult to choose. It's simply the separate paths you're on, converging at last. for good.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted," you whisper. It's not a fancy declaration of truth, a bit surprising coming from an English teacher, but it's the only thing Joel needs to hear before he pulls you close for another kiss.

Joel's released on Christmas Eve, and the two of you don't waste any time.

You and Joel are married in a small, intimate ceremony in the spacious living room of his home. Ellie, Sarah, Theo, Finn, Tommy, Maria, Sofia, Ruby, and even Bill and Frank are in attendance, watching as a judge from town and friend of the Millers officiates.

Joel promises you a nicer wedding when the frost thaws, anywhere you want in the world. You tell him you can't imagine a more perfect place to marry the most perfect man for you.

Your first wedding went by in a blur, but this time around you engrave it upon your heart, make note of every little skip of your heart when you and Joel hold hands, his delicate touch as he places a gorgeous sapphire ring on your hand, the sweetness of his lips when you share your first kiss as husband and wife.

After Christmas, Sarah and Theo leave for their honeymoon to Maui, and with the weather more agreeable the guests take leave too. Tommy sees to it that you and Joel have your house all to yourselves for your own honeymoon.

You insist on taking it easy with Joel, but he tells you he'd rather die while inside you, his name pouring from your lips the last thing he ever hears. He seems to get a second wind with you, making use of every possible flat surface in the house. You feel better about such activity when he takes his medication, promising to take it faithfully so long as you follow it with a kiss.

One morning after a particularly strenuous night, while drinking coffee in the kitchen and discussing your plans, Ellie returns, calling out to you before she enters.

"You're not doing anything gross in there, are you?"

"No," Joel laughs.

"Yes we are, we're working on making a sibling for you," you smirk over your coffee, glancing at Joel and giving a little shake of your head when his eyes go wide.

"Gross," she mutters, walking in. "Joel, Tommy says everyone's meeting at the Tipsy Bison for lunch later. But he couldn't get through to you on the phone." She makes a playful, pointed look, eyeing the two of you.

She's lukewarm to the idea of calling Joel 'Dad', and there's going to be some legal hoops to go through regarding Justin and his parental claim. But it all seems so small in comparison to the problems that plagued you before. You can get through anything because now you have each other.

You and Joel get ready as Ellie goes back to Tommy's, enjoying spending her time with Finn and getting ready to leave with them instead.

Unable to keep your hands off each other, it takes you twice as long to get dressed, hands going into each other's back pockets, lips finding each other's throats.

There's all the time in the world for it now.

Driving up to the Tipsy Bison, Joel turns on the radio. "Cherry, Cherry" starts to play, and you sing along with Neil Diamond, catching your husband's eye as he smiles and sings along too. The road before you is smooth, mountains standing guard in the distance, staying the same grand height no matter how far along you drive. Joel's hand finds yours, presses a kiss to it before entwining your fingers.

"Babe?"

"Yes, Mrs. Miller?"

You smile. "Let's not go right away. Let's drive around a little, play this song again, just soak in this moment."

"Of course, babygirl. I don't want to share you with the others just yet anyway."

Neil continues on the radio: No, we won't tell a soul where we gone to Girl, we do whatever we want to Ah, I love the way that you do me Cherry, babe, you really get to me

It's come full circle, and it only took two decades to complete. You and Joel in his truck, your song playing, the sun shining through the hazy clouds. You could close your eyes and it'd be 2003 again.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

<- prev chapter

[naanima]

I needddd Max reaction! I NEED HIM TO GO FERAL ABOUT IT

This is part 2. Part 1 is here.

YES. HE WOULD. Max receiving the message of Daniel and his new back tattoo.

Not beta'd. Gods, this is so NOT edited in any way shape or form. But I wrote this in a half dazed frenzy. I'll post a proper copy of this and the first part as one whole fic sometime in the next few days on ao3. Thanks for being equally feral as me guys!

EXPLICIT: There's wanking and sex. Sort of.

1.48k words. I wrote over 2k words today. I am done. Probably tapped out writing wise for the next two to three days. Lols.

"MAAAX!" An arm went around his neck and a wet kiss missed his cheek, and was instead plastered across his head. More people joined and Max was pulled out into the heaving mass of people dancing to the club music.

Max was so happy, he was also so drunk, but he was so fucking happy. Every win was of course important. But this one, this one was so important, this year has been shit. The fucking worst. The car is shit, the people who had won with him, the ones he thought would be always with him had left, gone to the competition. He had thought he had finally gotten Daniel back, after years of not having him. That they were finally at a point in their lives that they could get their shit together and make it work. But that had been snatched away.

And he understood why Daniel couldn't stay, why he had to leave. Max wasn't a teenager anymore, he understood that F1 wasn't always fair. It was shit.At least Daniel had visited him in Monaco. At least he the past two years had allowed them to be together more often then they had.

Winning the WDC made it, not exactly worth it, but it made things easier to accept. Made it bearable.

He threw back his gin and tonic, and a full glass of gin and tonic was placed into his hand. He laughed, drank it all, passed the empty glass to whomever was closest, and jumped into the mass of people all celebrating his win. Their combined efforts gave Max the opportunity to win.

He didn't know how long he danced for, pulled in by people who wanted to hug him, kiss him on the cheek, tell him they loved him, then he was passed along to the next person, rinse and repeat. Max was so happy, Max wished Daniel was here with him, wished it was Daniel pulling him in to kiss him on the cheeks, maybe to miss and then they would end up kissing on the mouth. Daniel was so strong now, he would be able to lift him off the floor for a hug, and maybe Max could wrap his legs around his waist, and then - fuck, he needed to stop. He was so hot, and the air felt like thick molasses, and Max was a bit dizzy, and fuck he needed to take a piss.

He stumbled his way to the bathroom, avoided outstretched hands with a laugh, and told people, "I need to piss."

His phone buzzed as he was washing his hands at the sink. He looked down and saw Daniel’s name flash across the top of the screen. It didn't show the content, something he had set up so that he could have some privacy from fans, the media and the paparazzi.

He had received so many messages, from almost everyone in his life, but he hadn't received anything from Daniel yet. He knew he was in America, most likely in LA. But he had not received anything from Daniel.

But now Daniel was texting him, and Max could feel his heart beating faster. He was worried, not seriously, but he was a little concerned. But it was okay now because Daniel was messaging him, probably so that could congratulate him like had for every win he has had.

Max unlocked his phone and opened his messages, pulling up his message thread with Daniel. He didn't know what he was seeing at first. Didn't know why Daniel had sent him a picture of a naked man, but then everything clicked, the curls, the tattoos on the thigh, the muscled back and the ass that Max had dreamed about as a teenager, fuck, had dreamed about as an adult.

Shit, did Daniel send this by mistake, was it meant for someone else? Fuck that fucking person. God, Daniel looked so good, Max wanted to touch every bit of the exposed skin. And then Max took in Daniel's lower back, something gold and black on red skin just above his ass. And Max had to zoom in, squinted his eyes to look, and when it finally became apparent, Max’s hand tightened around his phone and a deep guttural groan escaped his lips.

And oh my fucking god. He was suddenly so hard, a whiskey dick apparently not making an impact at all in the face of a naked Daniel Riccardo. A Daniel Ricciardo who had branded himself with Max's name right above his ass, and what the fuck was Max meant to do with that. His brain felt like it was on fire, his whole body felt like it was too small for his needs, he was sweating, and he suddenly felt like he was starving. A deep ache that needed to be filled, felt as if it could consume him if he let it. Fuck. Max needed to come right now.

He made his way into one of the cubicles, locked the door and sat on top of the closed toilet. He had to hold his phone under his chin as he used both of his hands to unzip himself, to pull his pants off so that he could reach his dick. And gods it felt so fucking good, his pre-come overflowing across his hands, running down his dick.

He used his right hand to hold the phone up so that he could see Daniel's naked back, so that he could see his initials, his wins, his fucking brand on Daniel. His left hand formed a tight wet channel around his cock as he fucked into it. He kept on looking at the tattoo, thought about tracing his name in gold with his fingers, thought about kissing it, licking it with his tongue, biting into it until he left his teeth marks on top of it. His hands pressing into it as he went down the curve of Daniel's ass. His mouth and tongue licking downwards till he reached Daniel's tight hole. He could bring so much pleasure to Daniel, could make him squirm and moan, shake and cry like a mindless drooling toy, could make him come on his tongue as he held him down by his hips.

He could fuck slowly into Daniel using just his spit and his pre-come, his dick buried deep, and then slowly pull out as Daniel’s body tried to hold him in, all the while watching Daniel's lower back, his name tattooed onto smooth skin. Daniel had branded himself for Max. Had made himself his, and Max wanted Daniel here, he wanted to suck Daniel's dick, push his face into his pubes, wanted to come over Daniel's back, his come all over his name in gold and black ink. He could lick his own come off Daniel's back afterwards, could push his own come into Daniel’s red used hole, and - fuck, his body tensed all over, his brain whited out, and he came with a long deep moan, and he might have blakced out for a split second. When he came back into himself, his come was cooling all over his hand and he could feel some on his chin.

His pants were half off his ass, and his spent dick was out in the open air. But he didn't really care, he felt relaxed and saited. His phone was still held tightly in his hand, the screen black now. And he realised that he hadn't responded to Daniel. He unlocked his phone, looked at the picture of Daniel, felt his dick twitch, didn't think, just snapped a photo of his spent and sent it to Daniel.

Halfway to pulling his pants up a thought struck him, and he unlocked his phone again to google for an answer. He almost threw his phone against the cubicle’s wall. Barely contained himself from screaming in frustration as he sent a message to Daniel.

TO DANIEL: Daniel, a tattoo can take up to 8 weeks to heal!?

Fuck this shit. He had waited for nearly a decade for a sign from Daniel that he would be interested. And now that he has got his answer it was going to take eight fucking weeks before he could lick, bite and fucking push his hands into the gold of his name on Daniel's back. Fuck this shit.

Max Verstappen was a four times world champion. He played to win, took the gap no matter how small if it meant he could win it all. Daniel had given him a free and open invite for the rest of his life, and Max was not going to let Daniel have a chance to ever doubt his decision to make him Max’s.

TO DANIEL: Daniel. This means you are mine now, and it is of course only fair if you know I am yours. I always wanted a tattoo, and “3” is my favourite number.

[doublejango]

for @botanikos -- for post-Mastermind feelz

Blitz had never felt this strange in his life. He watched the sky, watched the fireworks, listened to the gunshots. All across the city, imps were celebrating. Not just that he had lived, but than one of them had survived. Against all odds, he was still here, an imp had been thrust into the eye of damned near every power in Hell, but he was still breathing--

Because of Stolas.

He turned his head, listening to his former lover's steady breathing. Half-comforted by his presence, half-heartbroken, Blitz felt like a mess, but a calm one, a happy one. He shouldn't be happy, and he knew there was going to be fear and trauma to come from all of this, but so be it. That was just life, and it was for tomorrow. For right now, for tonight? Everything was okay. Even if nothing was really okay, because Stolas's world had just been torn apart, things were okay. Right now, right now, they were okay.

When the celebrations died off, Blitz silenced his phone. He got up and went over to the couch, just standing there for a moment and looking down at Stolas, heart full to bursting with how much he loved him, with the depth of the gratitude he felt. He kissed his forehead again, not wanting to wake him. "I love you," he whispered, as soft as a breath, his lips near Stolas's ear. "I love you, Stolas. And I'm gonna take care of you. Whatever it takes."

Blitz went and showered--

And that was where it hit.

Everything about the day caught up with him all at once, and he had to press his hands and face against the tiled wall, focusing on just breathing, just letting the tidal wave of emotions brush over him. In a way, an odd, fucked up way, this all felt... wrong? That axe had descended towards him and he had accepted it, he had lowered his head willingly, proud to die for the people he loved, trying to will his love out into them, and he should be dead. Blitz had had all kinds of close calls before, but this? This felt different.

There was a difference between a public execution and a firefight that just came up in the course of doing one's job.

And now?

Now, he knew what the situation really was in Hell. He knew it wasn't just a bias. He didn't have a chip on his shoulder. He had an entire world of his people, all of them as vulnerable as he was--most of them, a fuckton more so. All of the lesser Hellborn, the lowest of the low, were nothing more than bugs to be squashed in the eyes of Hell's nobility, with no protections, no one who would come for them the way Stolas had...

Blitz toweled off slowly, letting his mind and heart wander, feeling numb and strange. He knew that things were going to change, knew he was going to--to what? To overthrow the tyrants who chose not to value the lives of their people? To champion his own, whatever it cost, whatever it took? Knew he was going to make Stolas pancakes, and try to help him laugh, and try to help him feel safe? That. And that. And that, and that, and that.... So many thoughts buzzing through him, but he didn't try to fight them. He didn't try to put them down or chase them, too tired, too worn out.

Satan was an idiot who had just put his star on the ascendant, and Blitz wasn't going to waste that opportunity.

But ambitions were for tomorrow.

Tonight was for love.

He had one stuffed animal left from his childhood. It didn't take long to dig the soft little horse plushie out of the closet. Blitz tucked it into Stolas's arms, then slipped a hand under the blanket to feel his chest. His place was colder than Stolas's ever was, he worried, so he grabbed his leather jacket and draped it over Stolas's torso as well.

"I love you," he whispered again. Vision blurring with tears, Blitz smiled at him for a long moment, then went and changed into his pajamas. Content, he stretched out on the floor--with his tail up on the couch, loosely draped over Stolas's legs. He was sure there was no way he was ever going to fall asleep, not now, but...

-

The apartment smelled subtly different in the morning. Stolas. Stolas and heartache, and even the air felt fragile somehow, but that warm, feathery scent was enough to make Blitz smile the moment he woke. He tried to tone it down, trying to be respectful of the fact that his beloved probably wasn't going to be okay, or anything near it, for a long, long time, but still... Blitz was happy he was here. Selfishly so, maybe, but better that Stolas was here than dead.

He sat up and looked over, trying to gage if he was awake or not, unwilling to disturb him if he wasn't. Everything felt complicated, they had an entirely new set of rules to figure out, who and what they were to each other, all of it, everything had changed--but all of that major shit could trickle in slowly. There was no need to rush. No need to overwhelm Stolas, who was probably already overwhelmed, already a mess. How could he not be, after everything that had just been ripped away from him?

"You up?" Blitz whispered, his voice quiet in the dimly lit room.

[wingedshadowfan]

⚠️arcane s2 act iii spoilers⚠️

can anyone explain what went down between ambessa and victor?? i feel like both of their motivations confused me and there was alr so much happening so here's my interpretation of it all:

ambessa came to piltover to check in on her daughter (see how her city is doing, maybe check if there's any black rose mages causing her trouble, to tell her of her brother's loss) and maybe get a slice of that hextech progress pie, and only after she saw the undercity "misbehaving" did she decide something needed to be done about it and that she needed to take the reigns because in her eyes, mel was too soft just like she was as a child. she was losing control over her subjects.

after teaming up with caitlyn (and i've said it in another post but caitlyn had clear objectives, didn't want innocent casualties, and didn't intend on making the whole undercity kneel unlike ambessa), originally ambessa only wanted warwick to use as a weapon, until singed told her (and she saw for herself) what the herald was capable of. victor could turn her entire army basically invincible and immortal so they could finally stand a chance against the mages (which she originally thought they could do with hextech before she got distracted by her desire to conquer zaun into submission) and get her revenge for kino's death.

so ambessa waged war on the whole city, her daughter's city that she gave her to rule over, just so she could get to the anomaly that would allow victor to turn her warriors (and because caitlyn betrayed her and warwick killed her right hand man i guess, although i think those, esp the former, were an afterthought for her). when she first asked victor to turn her people, he agreed, which was already weird to me. maybe he just wanted a chance to turn more people perfect, other than the willing zaunites that came to him for salvation, but a part of his idea of perfection was incompatible with what ambessa had in mind as well as what he himself later used those puppets for - violence, war, revenge, destruction. he'd said to jayce that he didn't want them to have those ugly, dirty human qualities. he also said to ambessa he'd do it to the ones willing - he changes his mind after jayce and mel beat his ass and singed does the thing which completes his final transformation.

and then victor's last form ends up trying to turn everyone to his image of the glorious evolution... so did victor always plan to betray ambessa and just do what he wanted?? or did his objectives (and in general his beliefs) change after jayce blasted a hole into his chest, or maybe after ambessa died and he no longer "had a deal" with her and wasn't operating under her command, although he never officially was? or did he get corrupted beyond repair after singed did his thing? why did he even let singed do it? didn't he realize what ambessa wanted from him? were they both just using each other?

[still-mourning-polites]

I love these, and I'm gonna add some of mine...

- he's really pretty but doesn't care about appearances, so he keeps his hair unfashionably short and is clean-shaven

- he spends a lot of time with his horses because it helps him relax

- the horses he brought to Troy were descended from Arion, his grandfather's divine horse, and he wanted Aeneas' horses to diversify the gene pool. He also got Rhesus' horses after the night raid and let Odysseus have the sheep the other commanders had promised as a reward

- he thinks of Sthenelus like an older brother

- his men joke that he could sleep through anything, but actually, he's a light sleeper. It's just that their off-key singing doesn't register as a threat, no matter how bad it is.

- in Iliad book 10, he was sleeping outside so he'd hear if the Trojans attacked. Nestor's approaching footsteps woke him, but he pretended to still be asleep

- he was furious when Odysseus got injured covering his retreat in book 11

- he was also furious when Odysseus claimed to be the best of the Greeks to win Achilles' armor, not because he thought Ajax deserved the armor, but because he feared that the gods would pay more attention to Odysseus because of it. Diomedes knows, better than anyone, that attention from gods isn't always a good thing

- Athena sped up the healing process a bit after Odysseus and Diomedes were injured in book 11, but she's not Apollo, and it didn't help that they charged back into battle in book 14 (adrenaline and opium is a powerful combination). They also both reopened their wounds by participating in Patroclus' funeral games. Machaon was not amused

- Athena didn't intervene directly in book 23. She just inspired Diomedes to grab Meriones' whip while he was overtaking. Meriones then lost control of his chariot and crashed, but because Achilles awarded him the second prize, he didn't make a fuss over it

- in the versions where Diomedes was a suitor of Helen's, he wasn't actually that interested in her - he was there for other reasons. But Aegialia was hurt and angry because it seemed like he'd gone off to woo a complete stranger rather than marry her. Their marriage was rocky from the very beginning because they both thought the other hated them.

- in the versions where Helen's marriage happened before Thebes, Diomedes was too young and too seldom at home for him and Aegialia to develop any real affection before he went off to Troy

- Diomedes had a crush on Odysseus from the very beginning

- he was the youngest Greek commander at Troy, apart from Achilles

- he was in his early to mid twenties when the Trojan war began, and Odysseus was around thirty, making the age gap 5-10 years. Though Diomedes is younger, he has the larger army and far more experience at fighting wars, so their relationship is fairly well balanced

- the age gap between Diomedes and Achilles is also 5-10 years, and though the two of them sometimes sparred together, they never really bonded

- he has a very dry sense of humour and it's one of the things Odysseus loves most about him

- his eyes are a rich golden brown, like toffee (but I usually describe them as bronze in my fics), and they glow a little when he's in berserker paladin mode

- he's grateful that berserker paladin mode doesn't happen very often. He hurt all over after book 5

- after the post-palladium-heist incident, he acted like nothing had happened. Odysseus was both relieved and constantly looking for a trap that wasn't there, and Diomedes found that hilarious

- Diomedes could totally take Hector in single combat. But he still shouldn't have volunteered to fight him with an untreated arrow wound

- Athena has three favourites - Diomedes, Odysseus, and Penelope. She pretends to favour them all equally, but she loves Dio most (in the Iliad, Odysseus only sees her once, and she's in disguise (book 2). Diomedes sees her more often and in her true form (books 5 and 10). Also, in book 23, Odysseus prays to her for help in the foot race, while Diomedes gets her help without needing to ask...)

pLEASE give me your diomedes headcanons i just stumbled upon your dio with a dissociative disorder post and THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEED

I'm so so sorry it took me SO long to reply I uh kinda forgot. Sorry. Here goes the Diomedes posting

-he def got PTSD that lead to (in addition to the dissociation) anxiety but he's very good at pretending everything is fine (he just ignores his symptoms and call it a day.)

-he does not understands hints, if you want him to understand you will have to say it as it is.

- man rly loves sleeping. If he didn't have that many responsabilities he would probably sleep >10h a night + take a midday nap everyday. It rly is his favourite activity in the world.

- we know he swore to avenge to father when he was 4yo and left for Thebes at 14yo- well, ppl (including other Epigoni) told him multiple times that he did not need to come and to honour an oath he took when he was just a toddler- but he has always been very stubborn and for a very long time avenging Tydeus was his main if not only life goal.

- he was a very troubled kid, who got angry and violent very fast. The war rly calmed him down (when he came back his looked like a different person.)

-he rarely ever lies. He's not even a bad liar, but he believes honestly is always the better option.

-he has a pretty good constitution, but not for alcohol. 1 drink and he's zoning out, only a few more and he's sleeping on the table.

-children rly love him for some reason??? He never knows how to act around children and is a little awkward, and yet they always adore him and think he's the coolest person in the world.

[aesethewitch]

Personally? I don't mind it when people say "bless you" or "blessed be" or "my god(s) is/are blessing you"! I even like when someone blesses me in earnest out of the blue. I think it's nice. But I don't have any religious trauma or anything like that (which is genuinely lucky for me), so I have exactly no baggage surrounding blessings/prayers. So long as it's not like, "I'm Praying the Gay Away For You" or some condescending shit like that, I usually at least have no issues accepting it. More often, I'll be touched! Honored, even!

But don't get pissed off at others who get annoyed about it or reject the blessings!! You may think you're doing a nice thing, but it's significantly nicer to ask, "Hey, do you mind if I give you a little blessing and/or prayer?" or "What's your stance on unsolicited blessings and/or prayers?"

They'll either say "no, thank you" or "sure" or "it's fine by me" or they may ask for specifics about the blessing and state that it depends.

Maybe someone doesn't want blessings from gods they don't worship. Maybe someone can't accept blessings from gods they don't worship. Maybe someone is uncomfortable with any kind of religion or religious activity. Maybe someone only wants a specific type of prayer or blessing. Maybe someone simply doesn't believe in blessings or prayers and doesn't want to participate in your religious moment. Maybe someone just doesn't want to be blessed.

It literally doesn't matter. By and large, people will appreciate the question. Assuming is garbage. Don't assume. Be respectful. Ask first.

[steakout-05]

medic tf2 doodles?!?!?? in this economy!???!?!? (art from yesterday)

most gentle and sweet middle aged german man in the whole entire world smile vs planning to swap all of your organs with a series of interconnected frogs smile

a doodle i did of Medic and Archimedes.... he looks too round in this drawing, not smug and evil enough..... also Mitzi from the RAE appearance :D

i LOVE the voicelines Medic has with Haunted Archimedes, he's not disturbed or even slightly put off by the fact that his zombified dove is 1. talking and 2. has a violent and constant craving for brains. he's just like. being a slightly irritated pet owner about it. he's just like "ugh yes archimedes vants all zhe brains doesn't he. now shut up". also i think this is the most on-model medic drawing i've ever done wtf

[dangoulains-devotion]

yuffie has many interesting elements to her but people refuse to move past "i find energetic kids annoying" and it makes me sad

[gamebunny-advance]

Spite.

People that can only enjoy things through spite really baffle me.

For a while, I was following someone that ran a fanblog for something that I liked, but alongside reblogging fan art, every other original post they made was about how they would hate X, and that Y was better.

X and Y were any number of things relating to the subject of the blog, and the specifics of what they were aren't relevant to the discussion.

It wasn't that their criticisms were unfounded. They sometimes had legitimate gripes with a work, and I even agreed occasionally with some of the things they said. What bothered me is that conversely, they rarely talked about the things they did like unless it was in relation to the thing they didn't like.

It was never, "I like Y because ABC, and y'all should check it out too!" it was always, "X is horrible and bad, so I'm gonna consume Y instead!" or "At least Y is better than that trash X!"

It was just very tiring. I don't know what made them like that, but there was always a bitterness to their posts that always made me uncomfortable, especially in relation to what the blog was about. I would think a person running a blog like that would be more forward about positivity and love, but the impression I got was that they were purely motivated by spite.

But I tolerated it for a while because I liked seeing the reblogged posts and "X" was rarely something I was personally invested in. It was only recently that the "X" was actually something that I cared about that I finally decided to unfollow them. For the second time. I'd actually gotten sick and tired of this behavior long ago, but I decided to give them another shot, which they blew yet again.

I dunno. I know some people enjoy when others "spill the tea" or whatever (it seems like several of their followers enabled their behavior), and I'm not beyond hearing criticisms of a thing I like (I'm usually the first to make them). But I think I get the most enjoyment from people who also share the things they love because they love the thing, not because they hate something else.

It doesn't have to be an unconditional love, it just has to be earnest. I say all the time that being critical of the things you love is basically an essential part of truly appreciating anything in this world. But beyond the spite and criticism, I want to know that the person has something that they truly adore without it being tied to primarily negative feelings.

I just never got that from this person. There was never a post where they could gush about something without bringing something else down with it. I never sensed an earnest love from them.

But, maybe some people are just like that. Maybe their joy stems from venting their frustrations, and I can understand that. But their joy, is not my joy, and I just have a limit to how much spite I can take from one person before I just can't have them in my purview anymore.

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 11: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should curiously socialize with a few of the boat travelers ...

~

"The Adventurer grabs one of the ornate glass bowls near the buffet table, meekly gathering some cheese and vegetables as he scans the crowd. For the first 15 minutes of the lunch, he mostly crouches in a corner seat, nibbling on his food and nervously fielding the occasional drunken question from a passing party guest..

Knowing he should.. probably... actually socialize at some point, he begrudgingly chooses conversational partners, squeezing his eyes shut and pointing around randomly until he lands on someone.....

The first is a scrawny man in a flashy suit, wobbly from wine but still keeping a vaguely charming demeanor about him. He proudly introduces himself as a "legal expert", then goes on to ramble for a while about the laws in the area, how drastically they vary from city to city (plus a few veiled hints on how to safely break them), and that if you travel a lot it can be hard to keep up with it all.

He mentions, quite conveniently, that he's recently published a book on the topic, a legal guide for local explorers, and offers to give The Adventurer a copy for a special discounted price... but... then soon recalls that the crate of books he'd planned to sell on the boat sadly ended up falling into the river earlier during a "silly little mishap"..

In place of a book, he simply slides The Adventurer a glossy mint colored paper swirled with golden floral motifs, supposedly serving as some sort of business card, though the actual contact information seems obscured beneath the cluttered design. The Lawyer also pulls off his scarf as he rises to leave, wrapping it around The Adventurer's shoulders with a little waving flourish (not the first time someone has confused his anxious shaking for cold shivers). The Adventurer stutters out a confused thank you, then watches as the Lawyer stumbles off, mumbling to himself that he's been drinking too much and "truly must find somewhere to piss"......

The second person he approaches is an older woman, hunched over a table fidgeting with a handful of colorful glass dice, spinning and stacking and arranging them into patterns whilst her thoughts drift elsewhere. Initially, she gives evasive answers when asked personal questions, but soon grows more talkative once the topic of local flora and fauna arises. She apparently used to adventure as well, roaming the lands to document various elements of nature relevant to her mysterious "private research" - though, at her age, she's now resigned to casual boat rides rather than riskily hiking alone through uncharted wilderness. Gently laying a worn leather journal of watercolor paintings out onto the tabletop, she points at various berries, leaves, and animals, eagerly describing their significance...

After chatting for a while, she abruptly changes topics, mentioning that sometimes she can "sense things which she should not" (whatever the hell that means), then asks him to pick one of her dice. He hesitates, but she just stares, refusing to elaborate further.. Finding even 30 seconds of awkward silent eye contact physically impossible to bear, he hurriedly plops a finger down in front of an iridescent yellow die. She chuckles..

Scooping up all of the dice from the table, she rattles them in her clasped hands, then brings them up to her ear as if to listen... to something?? A few moments later, she turns back to him, speaking in a raspy whisper: "There are others, melding your footprints with their own, seeking a gift you do not yet know - this is what I see."

Before he can ask her for any elaboration, the Captain returns, grumbling that The Adventurer has already stayed 5 minutes past the time limit and swatting at him with a broom to shoo him off of the boat. Apparently an hour can go by fast....

After climbing back into his dinky raft, he sails mostly successfully down the river, finally making it to a point that, at least based on his map, SHOULD be where the main road picks back up past the detour. He crashes into a small grouping of rocks whilst trying to navigate back to the shore, but he was planning on disassembling the raft to get his rope and supplies back anyway, so.. aside from a scraped knee and possibly broken pinky toe, he decides it's actually fine. The cat is okay, which is all that really matters, anyhow.

By the time he's taken apart his boat, eaten a quick meal, and bandaged his leg, the sun seems to have nearly set. It's later in the night than he'd usually like to travel, but, where he's going is a pretty commonly used road, so maybe it's safe? He's exhausted from socializing, but could probably muster enough energy to walk for at least a while. Or perhaps he should just call it a night and find a place to sleep.. But.. where??? What should he do?

-

Additional information

acquired a long, warm, expensive scarf

acquired slightly increased knowledge of local plants

acquired vague information from the 'dice based fortune teller', or whatever that was meant to be

acquired a business card (+ ability to get away with one minor crime free of legal consequence)

acquired mild nausea for the next 5hrs from weird buffet cheese

acquired badly scraped knee and sprained toe (will walk slightly slower for the next 2 days)

the adventurer's current main goal: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[thethingything]

I'm fatigued, my back hurts, I accidentally spent like 3 hours sat downstairs in a chair that made our back feel worse because our executive dysfunction prevented me getting up and going back upstairs even though I only went down there to get one thing, and now I really need to lay down but if I accidentally fall asleep again I feel like I'll wake up, realise I fell asleep and also that I feel like I wasted a big chunk of the day, and I'll end up feeling even worse again

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[skrunksthatwunk]

playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there