#sarah beth runs

[t3l3vangelism]

NEW BOT ALRRT

new bots based on 8 songs that have been on repeat for me

note : just a small fyi, these are heavily, HEAVILY inspired by my lovers @voidsuites and @pearlzier!!! i meant to make wayyyyy more but like half of the songs I listen to on the daily are essentially about the same thing 😞

DEAN WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Sarah by Mojave 3

dean had a part in raising sam , but he knew he was entirely responsible for raising his youngest sibling, user. so when sam runs off to college and user tries to follow, dean pushed them away. years later, they reunite and dean still feels a little bitter that they left him behind.

SAM WINCHESTER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ California by Lana Del Rey

sam finally found solitude in someone else’s arms for the first time since jess passed. but when user starts asking too many questions about what he does for a living, sam decides to break it off for their safety whether they like it or not. months pass and sam finds himself back in california and dean heavily injured on a rough hunt. the nearest hospital is too far, but user is just down the block.

JOSH WASHINGTON ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ No one noticed by The Marias

after beth and hannah disappeared, josh formed a dependent relationship with user when they were the only one to show up in his time of need. now that everyone has agreed to return to his cabin for the one year anniversary of his sisters, josh can hardly stand anyone else holding user’s attention.

THEODORE NOTT ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ It’s good to be in love by Frou Frou

theo and user have been friends for years, user was really the only person he even considered a friend. over time, theo found himself growing feelings for user. however, user in in love with cedric. theo is forced to watch from afar, even growing distant from his friend until he accidentally confronted in them in the slytherin common room.

CARMEN BERZATTO ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Lover, you should’ve come over by Jeff Buckley

while carmen is trapped inside of his restaurant’s fridge, he goes through emotional turmoil thinking about the argument he got into with his partner the night before. richie obviously sensed the tension and tries to confront carmen while he can. his confrontation turns into a battle of fury until richie steps away, leaving carmen to scream against the metal door in front of him. he doesn’t know he’s alone until he’s faced with silence, he decides to break it by calling for the one person he hurt the most. he just hopes he wasn’t too deaf, dumb, and blind to lose them entirely.

JOEL MILLER ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ Here in California by Kate Wolfe

joel’s first real world lesson was taught by his mother; don’t fall in love too quickly before you learn to know yourself. as he got older, he realized how important his mother’s advice really was. but when the virus hit, it seemed to get lost in the translation. years later, joel has found himself forming a wordless bond with user, a stranger ellie had forced him to help when tess was still around. but now they were in tommy’s little community, spending their first night together in front of a dim fire and joel feels the need to enforce his mother’s word.

FRED WEASLEY ── ﾟ ˖ �� Chemtrails Over The Country Club by Lana Del Rey

fred basks in nature during the last few days of his honeymoon with user.

SYDNEY ADAMU ── ﾟ ˖ ꕀ flamin hot cheetos by Clairo

sydney and user sit on the front steps of her apartment building, enjoying the crisp air of night. sydney rants about anything and everything she can about the recent hectic events since the opening of the bear. but when she realizes how intently user is staring at her, sydney’s mind once again wanders into questioning if the nature of their relationship is more than just friendly.

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still.

By her brother's graveside, Liesel's life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Gravedigger's Handbook, left behind there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordian-playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor's wife's library, wherever there are books to be found.

But these are dangerous times. When Liesel's foster family hides a Jew in their basement, Liesel's world is both opened up, and closed down.

The Giver by Lois Lowry

At the age of twelve, Jonas, a young boy from a seemingly utopian, futuristic world, is singled out to receive special training from The Giver, who alone holds the memories of the true joys and pain of life.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Here are talented tomboy and author-to-be Jo, tragically frail Beth, beautiful Meg, and romantic, spoiled Amy, united in their devotion to each other and their struggles to survive in New England during the Civil War.

Charlotte's Web by E. B. White

Some Pig. Humble. Radiant. These are the words in Charlotte's Web, high up in Zuckerman's barn. Charlotte's spiderweb tells of her feelings for a little pig named Wilbur, who simply wants a friend. They also express the love of a girl named Fern, who saved Wilbur's life when he was born the runt of his litter.

The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini

When Eragon finds a polished blue stone in the forest, he thinks it is the lucky discovery of a poor farm boy; perhaps it will buy his family meat for the winter. But when the stone brings a dragon hatchling, Eragon soon realizes he has stumbled upon a legacy nearly as old as the Empire itself.

Overnight his simple life is shattered, and he is thrust into a perilous new world of destiny, magic, and power. With only an ancient sword and the advice of an old storyteller for guidance, Eragon and the fledgling dragon must navigate the dangerous terrain and dark enemies of an Empire ruled by a king whose evil knows no bounds.

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman

Lyra is rushing to the cold, far North, where witch clans and armored bears rule. North, where the Gobblers take the children they steal--including her friend Roger. North, where her fearsome uncle Asriel is trying to build a bridge to a parallel world.

Can one small girl make a difference in such great and terrible endeavors? This is Lyra: a savage, a schemer, a liar, and as fierce and true a champion as Roger or Asriel could want--but what Lyra doesn't know is that to help one of them will be to betray the other.

The Maze Runner by James Dashner

If you ain’t scared, you ain’t human.

When Thomas wakes up in the lift, the only thing he can remember is his name. He’s surrounded by strangers—boys whose memories are also gone.

Nice to meet ya, shank. Welcome to the Glade.

Outside the towering stone walls that surround the Glade is a limitless, ever-changing maze. It’s the only way out—and no one’s ever made it through alive.

Everything is going to change.

Then a girl arrives. The first girl ever. And the message she delivers is terrifying.

Remember. Survive. Run.

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

You'll meet a boy who turns into a TV set, and a girl who eats a whale. The Unicorn and the Bloath live there, and so does Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout who will not take the garbage out. It is a place where you wash your shadow and plant diamond gardens, a place where shoes fly, sisters are auctioned off, and crocodiles go to the dentist.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

A mysterious island. An abandoned orphanage. A strange collection of very curious photographs. It all waits to be discovered in Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, an unforgettable novel that mixes fiction and photography in a thrilling reading experience. As our story opens, a horrific family tragedy sets sixteen-year-old Jacob journeying to a remote island off the coast of Wales, where he discovers the crumbling ruins of Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children. As Jacob explores its abandoned bedrooms and hallways, it becomes clear that the children were more than just peculiar. They may have been dangerous. They may have been quarantined on a deserted island for good reason. And somehow-impossible though it seems-they may still be alive.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Mary Lennox, a spoiled, ill-tempered, and unhealthy child, comes to live with her reclusive uncle in Misselthwaite Manor on England’s Yorkshire moors after the death of her parents. There she meets a hearty housekeeper and her spirited brother, a dour gardener, a cheerful robin, and her wilful, hysterical, and sickly cousin, Master Colin, whose wails she hears echoing through the house at night.

With the help of the robin, Mary finds the door to a secret garden, neglected and hidden for years. When she decides to restore the garden in secret, the story becomes a charming journey into the places of the heart, where faith restores health, flowers refresh the spirit, and the magic of the garden, coming to life anew, brings health to Colin and happiness to Mary.

[lvnleah]

Welcome Home Rory.

nervous about posting this but here it is! I tried to make this as accurate as possible with the adoption process but I’m sorry if it’s wrong 💗💗

MARCH 2023

Beth and Viv always knew they wanted kids, it was something that had been brought up on their very first date. So when the conversation about having kids came up one evening, the two weren’t shocked or unprepared. 

They sat together on their couch, Beth resting her head on Viv's shoulder. "Viv, do you still want to have a child?”

Viv paused the TV, nodding her head, “Yeah I do, why Mijn liefje?”

“I want to have a baby. I don’t feel like getting pregnant right now," Beth began, "With our schedules and everything, it just seems so complicated and I don’t think I could be out for longer than I’m already going to be.”

Viv nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I’d love to have a child right now but I don’t think I could handle pregnancy. What about adoption? I think we’re ready for a baby but neither of us is ready to go through pregnancy.”

A warm smile spread across Beth's face. "I've been thinking the same thing. We could give a child a family, it’d work out well too because we’ve got time at the moment to get to know them."

The couple had both been out with their ACLs for around four months now, just weeks between their injuries, so it meant that they had a lot of extra time on their hands. 

Beth reached for her laptop on the coffee table, "Let's start looking into the process. We have a good support system, and I'm sure our families will be thrilled."

Viv squeezed Beth's hand, "Absolutely. We should also get in touch with an adoption agency. I know it can take a while, but I'm ready to start this journey with you."

The couple spent hours that night researching the different types of adoption, they never knew there were so many choices. They could adopt from foster care, internationally or privately. They settled on foster care, something that felt right for them. 

The next few weeks were long and filled with lots of paperwork. In between their rehab, they filled out different applications and went through many background checks and interviews to make sure they were suitable to be parents. 

Their social worker, Sarah, carried out many home checks to see if their home would be right for a child. Beth and Viv had never been as anxious in their life as they showed the older woman around. 

“Thank you for showing me around your home,” Sarah smiled as she gathered her things, “I’ll be in contact within the next few days but I can assure you that you have a very loving home. The child you adopt will be so lucky to have you as their parents. I’m more than certain you’ll be approved.”

Viv and Beth exchanged an excited smile, “Thank you, Sarah.” Beth politely smiled.

They showed Sarah out before closing the door. Beth stood with her back to the door, an excited smile on her face before running into Viv’s arms. 

“We’re going to be approved!” Viv grinned as she lifted Beth off of the floor.

A few days later, their approval came through and they were officially put on the adoption list. Days turned into weeks as Beth and Viv waited, their anticipation growing with each passing moment. 

They continued with their rehab, trying to keep themselves busy, but the thought of their future child was always at the forefront of their minds.

One morning in late April, Beth's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. She glanced at the screen and saw Sarah's name. Her heart skipped a beat as she answered the call.

"Hello, Sarah?"

"Hi, Beth! I have some wonderful news. We've matched you with a little girl named Rory. She’s four years old and has been in foster care for six months after her grandmother passed away. Would you be willing to meet her?”

Beth's eyes filled with tears of joy. "Oh my gosh, Sarah, that's incredible! When can we meet her?"

Sarah's laughter came through the phone. "How about tomorrow? We can arrange a visit at her foster home, and you can spend some time with her."

Beth quickly agreed, and as soon as she hung up, she rushed to find Viv. "Viv, we've been matched! Her name is Rory, and we can meet her tomorrow!"

Viv's face lit up with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "Really? That's amazing!”

The couple spent the rest of the day preparing for their visit, making sure they had everything they might need to make a good first impression.

They hardly slept that night and were anxiously up the next morning. They arrived at Rory’s foster home, their hearts pounding with anticipation.

Sarah greeted them at the door, leading them inside to a cosy living room where Rory was playing with some toys with her foster mother. She looked up with curious eyes as Beth and Viv entered the room.

“Rory?” Sarah called out, grabbing the attention of the four-year-old. Rory’s head turned around, “I have some people I’d like you to meet.”

Rory shyly walked over with her foster mom, her fingers in her mouth while her other arm held her stuffed teddy. 

“This is Beth,” Sarah smiled, pointing to Beth, “And this is Vivianne but you can call her Viv.”

"Hi, Rory," Beth said softly, kneeling to her level. "I'm Beth, and this is Viv. We’ve been so excited to meet you."

Rory studied them for a moment before giving a shy smile. "Hi."

“Hi Rory,” Viv smiled, Rory’s face screwing up in confusion at Viv’s accent, “Who’s this little guy?” Viv asked, tickling the stomach of Rory’s teddy. 

Rory looked up at her foster mom who gave her a nod, “Twix.” Rory mumbled shily. 

Viv gasped excitedly, “That’s a great name! Want to know a secret?” She asked Rory, getting a small smile and a nod, “At home, I have a teddy! His name is Flip, maybe one day we can have a teddy play date!”

Rory nodded, jumping on the spot a little, “Yes, yes! Twix loves to play, do you like to play?” 

Beth and Viv exchanged a smile, their heartwarming at how sweet Rory was, “We love to play!” Beth smiled, “What kind of stuff do you and Twix like to play?”

Rory’s eyes lit up and she thought for a moment, “We like playing hide and seek! Oh! And colouring, you like colouring?”

“We do!” Viv smiled, nodding her head. 

“You colour with me now?” Rory asked, getting a nod from the couple before taking their hands into hers, “Okay! Follow me!”

They spent the afternoon getting to know Rory, playing games, and reading stories. Her initial shyness gradually gave way to giggles and laughter as she warmed up to them. Beth and Viv couldn't help but giggle at everything the little girl did.

As the visit came to an end, Rory clung to Beth's hand, looking up at her with wide eyes. "Are you coming back?"

Beth's heart melted. "Yes, Rory. We’ll see you again very soon, okay?"

Over the next few days, Beth and Viv started to spend more time with Rory, which eventually progressed into full days together. Once Rory was comfortable, they took her to the park, enjoying picnics and playtime in the sunshine.

One day, after a full day of laughter and running around, Rory fell asleep in Viv’s arms on the way back to the car.

“Vivi!” Rory tiredly called out, her grip on Twix tight.

Viv looked down at the little girl. “Yes, mijn liefje?”

“I’m so tired!” Rory whined, stopping in her tracks. “Carry me, please?”

Viv smiled warmly, kneeling so she could scoop Rory into her arms. “Of course, sweetheart. You’ve been such a busy little bee today!”

As Viv cradled her, Rory nestled against her shoulder, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to stay awake. Beth walked alongside them, her heart swelling at the sight of them together.

“Looks like someone had a fun day,” Beth teased gently.

“Yeah,” Rory mumbled, barely opening her eyes. “Best day ever.”

Viv chuckled softly, adjusting her hold. “We’re so glad you think so! What was your favourite part?”

“Swinging!” Rory exclaimed, her enthusiasm barely contained even in her sleepy state. “And the ice cream!”

Beth grinned. “You were pretty impressive on those swings. You went so high!”

“I want to go higher next time!” Rory declared, her voice growing softer.

As they drove back to Rory’s foster home, the quiet hum of the car was comforting. Viv occasionally glanced back to see Rory peacefully sleeping, Twix nestled against her. 

When they arrived there, Beth carefully unbuckled Rory and lifted her into her arms. “Let’s get you into bed, sleepyhead,” she whispered.

Rory stirred slightly but didn’t wake. They rang the doorbell before tiptoeing inside, Viv quietly followed, grabbing Rory’s blanket. 

In her room, Beth laid Rory down, tucking her in gently. “Sweet dreams, little one,” she said softly, brushing a stray hair from Rory’s forehead.

Viv stood by the door, watching with a smile before the couple said goodbye to Rory’s foster mother. The couple climbed into their care before making their way home. 

Beth turned to Viv, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe how much joy she’s already brought into our lives.”

“She’s a little ray of sunshine, isn’t she?” Viv agreed. 

Beth nodded, “It feels like we’ve known her forever.”

“Right?” Viv smiled. “I think she’s already starting to feel at home with us.”

Eventually, once Rory was even more comfortable she expressed how she wanted to stay overnight with Beth and Viv. Sarah, their social worker, quickly arranged the overnight stay, excited about Rory’s growing attachment.

The night finally arrived, and the couple prepared their home to make it as welcoming as possible. They set up a cosy corner in the living room with blankets and pillows, creating a perfect little nest for movie night. 

When Rory arrived, she was bouncing with excitement, holding Twix tightly. “I’m ready for a sleepover!” she declared, her eyes sparkling. “Can we watch a movie now?”

“Absolutely,” Viv laughed, brushing a strand of hair from Rory’s face. “What do you want to watch?”

“Can we watch a princess movie?” Rory asked, her face lighting up as they headed inside. 

“Of course!” Beth replied, already pulling out a selection of their favourite films. They settled on Rapunzel, a classic, and soon the room was filled with the sounds of music and laughter.

As they cuddled together under the blankets, Rory sat in the middle as Beth sneaked in some popcorn, handing it to Rory with a grin. “Movie snacks are a must!”

Rory giggled, “This is the best!”

After the movie, they moved to the kitchen to make their mini pizzas. Rory was excited to help, spreading sauce and adding cheese and toppings with careful precision. 

“Look! I made a smiley face!” Rory exclaimed, proudly showing off her creation.

“That’s amazing!” Viv cheered, giving her a high-five. “You’re an artist!”

As they waited for the pizzas to bake, they played games and chatted. Rory shared stories about her favourite things, from her love of animals to her favourite games at the park.

When it was finally time to eat, the pizzas came out hot and bubbling. They gathered around the table, laughter filling the air as they enjoyed their creations. 

“This is the best sleepover food!” Rory declared, her mouth full of pizza.

After dinner, it was time for bed. Beth and Viv helped Rory brush her teeth and change into her pyjamas. As they settled into the living room with Rory nestled between them, they read her a bedtime story.

“Do you like this one?” Beth asked, holding up a colourful book that Rory had packed with her. 

“Yes! Read it!” Rory said eagerly.

As Beth read aloud, Viv brushed Rory’s hair back gently. Rory listened, wide-eyed and engaged, making them both realise how far they had come in such a short time.

When the story ended, Rory yawned and snuggled closer to Viv. “Can we do this every night?” she murmured sleepily.

Beth exchanged a glance with Viv, her heart swelling. “We’d love to, Rory.”

Rory's eyes fluttered shut, and soon she was fast asleep, a peaceful smile on her face.

As Beth and Viv sat quietly, watching her sleep, Viv whispered, “I can’t believe how quickly she’s become part of us.”

Beth nodded and soon Viv scooped Rory up before carrying her to the room they’d set up for her. They both tucked her in, leaving the door on a jar before retreating to the living room. 

Later that night, they moved to the kitchen to clean up. “We should plan more activities for the weekends,” Viv suggested. “Maybe a trip to the zoo?”

Beth smiled, already imagining the fun they would have. “That sounds perfect. She’ll love it!”

After everything was cleaned up, they settled on the couch, before heading to bed and checking on Rory, who was still sound asleep. “I think we’re doing great,” Beth said, a mix of disbelief and joy in her voice.

“Yeah, we are,” Viv replied softly, taking Beth’s hand in hers. “And it feels incredible.”

Finally, a few weeks later, Viv and Beth were approved to adopt Rory and officially became her parents. When Viv and Beth told Rory the news, it was like Christmas morning. 

“Rory?” Beth said, sitting down beside the four-year-old. 

Rory looked up, “Yeah, Beffy?”

“So, me and Vivi were wondering,” Beth started, “Would you like to live with us? Like sleepover, every single night and stay with us forever?”

Rory's eyes widened, and she blinked in surprise. The question hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed like time itself held its breath. Then, with a radiant smile that could light up the darkest room, Rory nodded vigorously.

"Really, really, really?" she exclaimed, “I get to live with you like all my friends live with their Mummies and Daddies?”

Beth and Viv exchanged a glance, their hearts swelling with emotion. "Yes, Rory," Beth said, her voice steady. "We want you to be a part of our family forever."

Rory's joy bubbled over, and she flung her arms around both of them, hugging them tightly. "I love you, Beffy and Vivi!" she declared, her words muffled against their shoulders.

Tears welled up in Beth's eyes as she hugged Rory back. "We love you too, sweetie," she whispered. "More than anything."

Viv and Beth worked with Rory’s foster family on packing up all of her belongings, for one little girl there sure were a lot of clothes and toys. Rory said her goodbyes to her foster family before Viv helped strap her into the car. 

The drive home was filled with Rory singing along to all the different songs Viv and Beth had put onto a playlist of her, a few of them being Viv’s favourite Taylor Swift songs. 

When they arrived home, Rory was so excited to see before running off to her room to see how Viv and Beth had decorated. It was everything the little girl could’ve ever dreamed of. 

The walls were pink just like she’d asked for and she had a true princess-style bed. There was a bookshelf in the corner, filled with all of her favourite books, as well as a little teepee for her to read in. 

The couple spent the evening settling Rory in, after dinner they settled down onto the couch with Rory in her pyjamas and close by. 

“Vivi, Beffy?” Rory asked. 

Beth brushed back Rory’s hair from the spot she sat in between the couple, “Yes, sweetie?”

“My friends at school,” Rory started, anxiously playing with the ear of Twix, “they have parents and they call them Mummy and Daddy. What do I call you?”

Viv looked at Beth before speaking, “Well you can call us what you want. You can call us Beth and Viv, you can call us Mummy and Mamma or whatever you feel comfortable with!”

Rory hummed and thought for a second before speaking, “I like Mummy and Mamma!”

“Well you can call us that if you want, it’s totally up to you,” Beth smiled. 

“Mummy and Mamma!” Rory smiled, “I like that! You my Mummy and Mamma!”

Beth and Viv exchanged a happy grin and eventually Rory fell asleep in between them. They carried the little girl to her bed before heading back to the living room. 

Soon, a soft sound interrupted them. They looked over to see Rory standing in the doorway, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “Can I sleep with you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, sweetie,” Beth said, smiling.

Viv walked over to Rory before she knelt to Rory's level. “You want to come snuggle with us for a bit?”

Rory nodded, her face lighting up. Viv carried her over to the couch, Rory still holding Twix tightly.

As they all settled in, Beth wrapped an arm around both Viv and Rory. “This is perfect,” she said softly.

Viv leaned in closer, planting a kiss on Rory’s head. “We’re so lucky to have you, Rory.”

[alltheirdamn]

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

Epilogue

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

Masterlist | Ko-fi

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

“Coming!” She shouted back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Grossssss,” Sarah groaned, startling you both.

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

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

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

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

Future wife. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome back,” she said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aunt Beth.”

Shit.

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

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

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

“Hello?” 

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

“Everything okay?” You asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise, sis,” she sighed.

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

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

“Wait, before you go,” Beth hesitated. 

“Yeah?”

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

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

“I know you are, sis,” you exhaled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I love you,” he said.

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

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

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

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

“Punishment?” You echoed.

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

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

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

“Oops, I’m sorry,” you giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get your ass up here, baby.”

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

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

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

“I did?” You teased.

“Three times,” Joel groaned. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you exhaled.

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

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

“Shh,” he hummed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t,” you whined.

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

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

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

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

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

“So fuckin’ perfect,” Joel whispered.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you panted.

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

“I love you so much, baby.”

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God, stop!” 

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

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

“But—.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, come here,” Beth whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m ready,” you whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you look extra handsome,” you grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About damn time,” Joel snorted. 

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

This was your home. He was your everything. 

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

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

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

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

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

Joel glanced towards his brother and shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[frances-baby-houseman]

My mom called me yesterday to yell at me for talking to my aunt about her because my aunt is "a pot stirrer" who is "telling everyone my private information" and she doesn't like it when "aunt peggy calls me and says tracey said that sarah beth told her X"

I had literally no idea what my mom was talking about and was very confused which my mom interpreted as my being mad at her. I am not mad at her but I am sort of at the end of my patience with her. She told me over and over how she is a private person who doesn't want people to know her business and to stop talking to aunt tracey about her.

My aunt is the ONLY person telling me anything. Things like, "your mom can't walk today and I think she needs to go to the emergency room" or "she has no food in the house and larry won't do the shopping." So I told her aunt tracey is the only one telling me things, and she said well I should have told her we have a communication problem, which A, I tell her CONSTANTLY, and B, how does she expect to communicate with me when she is in an ambulance!!!

Finally I was like, MOM, this is actually on you. Aunt Tracey loves you, she spends HOURS every DAY taking care of you, feeding you, taking you to the doctor. I don't know what you interpret as "telling your private business" but the people she's telling are your first cousin, your aunt, your first-cousin-in-law who is a social worker for people with chronic illness, and your daughters, who all want to help you. I'm sorry if you don't always like the way she does it but you have to accept people's help.

Like, my mom will never drive again! she cannot walk! And now she is pushing away the person who is her best lifeline and calling me and my sister every day to yell at us about how isolated she is and why don't we love her more. I have lived in Illinois for 20 years! I didn't run away from her sickness, this is my life that I am living!! She is so isolated and pushing everyone away from her and she says she's started therapy but I know what she is telling the therapist (based on the therapy speak she's using) and it's not the actual issue!!!

Idk if this even makes sense but I am so overwhelmed all day every day with my mother and I do not know what to do, and I know some of y'all are going through this or have dealt with this and it just fucking sucks!!!

[bluedelliquanti]

August is a happenin' month for me! I've got no less than 4 events going on in the next two weeks here in the Twin Cities. (More details at my Patreon!)

SATURDAY 8/10

I will be the visiting the Columbia Heights Public Library as part of their Saturday Scribes author series to discuss my books and career as a comic artist!

10:30 am, Columbia Heights Public Library, Columbia Heights

FRIDAY 8/16

As the first event of Autoptic weekend, I will be doing a live reading of my short comic "Little Islands" from the anthology Failure to Launch! Join me and my fellow cartoonists Beth Hetland, Chad Bilyeu, Trung Le Nguyen, Anders Nilsen, and Bianca Xunise as we perform our work in front of an audience.

6:30 pm, Highpoint Center for Printmaking, Minneapolis

SATURDAY 8/17

This is my selling day during Autoptic weekend! Find me at Table 58A, where I'll be selling my graphic novels as well as copies of Failure to Launch and my entire Ghostbusters run.

11 am - 6 pm, Coffman Memorial Union, Minneapolis

SUNDAY 8/18

Panel day! I am moderating the "Queer Identity in Comics" panel at MCAD. Join me and fellow artists Sarah Evenson, Frannie Love, and Xiomar Luna as we talk about our journeys making LGBT+ comic work.

3 pm, Minneapolis College of Art and Design, Minneapolis

[iamalasagnagirl]

PART 2 OF WLW BOOKS PLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, let's see, I'll start with two of my new fav books ever, both written by Debra Flores:

1. One Day You'll Leave Me

Karen is an ordinary woman living an ordinary life in the year 2010. Until the day she hears an unfamiliar song that moves her in a way she cannot understand or explain.

Judy Paige was also an ordinary young woman, who lived an ordinary life, up until the day she sang one of her songs at a show in the year 1964.

When Karen's curiosity about the song turns into an obsession about the woman who sang it, she's drawn to the town in which Judy Paige was born and raised.

It's there that Karen is approached by a man who asks Karen a simple question. "Would you like to meet her?" The question is simple, but the answer is not.

2. The Library by the River

It was an ordinary day in March of 1985, the day Beth walked in to a library and met Sarah, the woman that would change her life forever.

At a time when the AIDS epidemic was well underway, when society still labeled homosexuality as an illness, something to be hidden away, whispered about, but not talked about aloud, there were certainly obstacles in their way.

Even so, obstacles or not, Beth is twenty and Sarah is twenty-eight, they're young, and in love, they can handle whatever comes their way. Or so they think. The one thing they may not be able to overcome is Kim. Beth's jealous best friend. She doesn't see Sarah the way Beth does, far from it, she sees her as nothing more than a problem that needs to be taken care of. An impediment to the relationship she knows she and Beth are meant to have. Volatile and hot-headed, yes, but is Kim actually capable of tearing them apart? And at what cost?

Kiss of Seduction by Rawnie Sabor

Evie is trapped. Held captive by the vampiric Court of Night, she has experienced nothing but pain and terror for over a year.

Natalya is the second-in-command of the Chicago-based Court of Chains. She is among a succubus. A being of pure Sin, whose touch is agony and whose kiss is a death sentence.

This book is an emotionally charged, sapphic love story of healing through trauma, reclaiming yourself after tragedy, and trusting another to catch you when you fall.

Meet me in Berlin by Samantha L. Valentine

"If we lose each other, then we’ll come back to this spot, on this day, at this time, every year until we find each other."

But how do you find someone from the other side of the world when you only know their first name, and the only plan you made to reunite was to meet in a Berlin park in late August at 6 pm, eleven years ago?

The Ride of Her Life by Jennifer Dugan

Molly dreams of starting her own wedding planning company when she inherits a run-down, struggling horse barn, courtesy of her late aunt.

But maybe — if she can sell the land, the profits could be the small-business seed money miracle she’s been waiting for.

The real snag in her plan is Shani. Judgmental, grouchy Shani, who thinks she’s so morally superior because she hasn’t given up on the crumbling barn while Molly wants to “destroy” everything her aunt built; who’s really good with the horses, and always comes whenever Molly calls her in a panic; and is actually kind of thoughtful, and obnoxiously hot, and has Shani become an entirely different kind of problem? One Molly can’t possibly solve, no matter how much her heart wants to?

For Love or Scandal by J.J. Arias

Laney Menendez, a once-celebrated Hollywood director, has a chance at a comeback. The catch? She must first marry her brother’s soap-star boyfriend to stop him from being outed by a tabloid.

For Laney, the lavish fake wedding is meant to be all business, until she meets the wedding planner, Jennifer Acosta.

Their attraction is instant and undeniable. As Laney and Jennifer work closely planning the wedding, stolen moments stoke the flames of a passion too powerful to resist.

Immerse yourself in this steamy tale where fantasy and reality entwine. Love makes its own rules, and for Laney and Jennifer, the fake wedding of the year may just be the start of something real.

Before You Were Mine by Heidi Lowe

After the intercity bus she's traveling on crashes into a bridge, Abigail wakes up in a hospital in Utah with no memory of who she is.

Unsure of when, or even if, her memory will return, she settles into her new life in Oakwood, where she meets Tiffany, a nurse she befriends while hospitalized. Abby knows it would be unwise to get involved with someone while her past is still a blur, so she tries to ignore her growing feelings for the beautiful woman. But as the two grow closer, and things get serious between them, Abby is finally ready to put her unknown past to bed... Which might be a problem for James, her husband of two years.

Graceless by Ruby Landers (book Two of the Grace Notes Trilogy)

Savannah Grace is on top of the world when her younger sister Cassidy shows up on her doorstep with one plan and one plan only: for her sister to turn her into a star.

Savannah’s nanny Lane has grown all the way up, from a cute punk kid to a classic handsome heartbreaker, a long trail of short flings in their wake. They don’t have a second to waste on Cassidy, after all she’s rude, ignorant, hot-tempered and kind of a brat. It’s just… does their boss’s little sister have to be so hot? Of course things could always get worse.

Of course, Sarah Waters' books:

1. Fingersmith

Sue Trinder is an orphan, left as an infant in the care of Mrs. Sucksby, a "baby farmer," who raised her with unusual tenderness, as if Sue were her own.

Mrs. Sucksby’s household, with its fussy babies calmed with doses of gin, also hosts a transient family of petty thieves—fingersmiths—for whom this house in the heart of a mean London slum is home.

One day, the most beloved thief of all arrives—Gentleman carries with him an enticing proposition for Sue: If she wins a position as the maid to Maud Lilly, a naïve gentlewoman, and aids Gentleman in her seduction, then they will all share in Maud’s vast inheritance. Once the inheritance is secured, Maud will be disposed of—passed off as mad, and made to live out the rest of her days in a lunatic asylum.

With dreams of paying back the kindness of her adopted family, Sue agrees to the plan. Once in, however, Sue begins to pity her helpless mark and care for Maud Lilly in unexpected ways...But no one and nothing is as it seems in this Dickensian novel of thrills and reversals.

2. The paying guests

It is 1922 and in South London, in a genteel Camberwell villa—a large, silent house now bereft of brothers, husband, and even servants—life is about to be transformed, as impoverished widow Mrs. Wray and her spinster daughter, Frances, are obliged to take in lodgers.

With the arrival of Lilian and Leonard Barber, a modern young couple of the “clerk class,” the routines of the house will be shaken up in unexpected ways. Little do the Wrays know just how profoundly their new tenants will alter the course of Frances’s life—or, as passions mount and frustration gathers, how far-reaching, and how devastating, the disturbances will be

3. Affinity

An upper-class woman recovering from a suicide attempt, Margaret Prior has begun visiting the women’s ward of Millbank prison as part of her rehabilitative charity work. Amongst Millbank’s murderers and common thieves, Margaret finds herself increasingly fascinated by an apparently innocent inmate, the enigmatic spiritualist Selina Dawes. Selina was imprisoned after a séance she was conducting went horribly awry, leaving an elderly matron dead and a young woman deeply disturbed.

Margaret is soon drawn into a twilight world of ghosts and shadows, unruly spirits and unseemly passions, until she is at last driven to concoct a desperate plot to secure Selina’s freedom, and her own.

4. Tipping the velvet

Nan King is captivated by the music hall phenomenon Kitty Butler, a male impersonator extraordinaire treading the boards in Canterbury. Through a friend at the box office, Nan manages to visit all her shows and finally meet her heroine. Soon after, she becomes Kitty's dresser and the two head for the bright lights of Leicester Square where they begin a glittering career as music-hall stars in an all-singing and dancing double act.

At the same time, behind closed doors, they admit their attraction to each other and their affair begins.

Turbulence by E. J. Noyes

Stockbroker Isabelle Rhodes has a lot of money, a lot of trust issues, and a whole lot of reasons to believe her ex-girlfriend was right when she said that Isabelle sucked at relationships. With that accusation stuck in her head, Isabelle throws caution to the wind and dives into her first one-night stand. Checking that off her bucket list should be something to celebrate—except it turns out that the woman she just spent an earth-shattering night with is actually her newly hired company pilot, Audrey Graham.

Concerned about the stigma of workplace dalliances, Isabelle vows it can’t go further than the one night. Good plan—if not for an insistent libido and an even more persistent Audrey who conspires to break Isabelle’s resolve. Soon their no strings arrangement starts to feel a lot like dating, and Isabelle finds herself wanting more than just casual nights together

Fear Of Falling by Georgia Beers

Since she was fourteen, singer Sophie James has been an international superstar. With her career (and life) directed by her manager, Ray, she hasn’t had to worry about a thing for more than a decade. But when Ray has a heart attack, Sophie is left without the only real father figure she’s ever known and questioning everything she believes about what’s important to her.

Enter Dana Landon, the new manager sent by Sophie’s record company. Dana is gorgeous, sophisticated, and ready to do her job keeping Sophie’s career on track and making the record company money. Dana captures Sophie’s attention in ways Sophie never expected--and isn't ready for, but after so many years of being told what to do, Sophie’s ready to shake things up with some ideas of her own.

[featherandferns]

underneath the gloves (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | the final part of the F.W.B universe, but can maybe be read as a stand-alone

content warning: mentions of drug use; fighting; mentions/discussions of SA/trauma (see here for context, or feel free to message and ask)

word count: 7k

blurb: after you lose a match, things seem to spiral out of control. it seems to come to a head after a confrontation with Kelce, leaving you to confess to JJ why you sometimes are the way you are.

Your ears are still ringing. Head pounding like it had been thumped against concrete, over and over; brain feeling as though it had been rattled around your skull. Knuckles and fists aching. Limbs screaming for reprieve. Knees and hands on the floor. Chest heaving. Panting for air. Unable to stand. There’s only one thought, running on repeat:

You lost.

The crowd in the school gymnasium is cheering. Applaud and hollers and whoops. But none of it is for you. It’s for Beth Sunder, the Kook girl that you were so sure you could beat. She was smaller than you; not as accomplished. It should have been an easy win. Why wasn’t it an easy win?

There’s an arm on your bicep, helping you to your feet. You somehow stand, body crying out for rest. As you face the crowd, eyes unfocused, you still think the same thought. You lost.

You don’t look over to Beth as the ref holds her arm up in the air. You don’t look out to the crowd – search for the faces of your friends, your parents, JJ. You decide to stare at the floor, breathing heavy. You lost.

It’s on instinct that you leave the ring once it’s appropriate for you to be dismissed. You don’t do the sportsman thing and congratulate Beth. Don’t even look at her. How can you? If you meet her gaze, you’ll only hate yourself more. It should’ve been an easy win. The gloves come off first, and the bandages, letting your hands breath. You wince as you stretch out your fingers, feeling them scream. The mouthguard gets spat out into the sink. Your coach seems to know to leave you alone. Heading to the showers, you shrug out of your clothes and stand under the scorching stream. It doesn’t help. Everything feels vacant; like you’re floating through life, not really there. Wash your hair, your body, your face. Dry off and change into your joggers and a tee. Barely brush your hair and don’t bother to style it or tame it back. When you look in the mirror to inspect any injuries, there’s that voice again. You lost.

You look into your eyes. There’s some bruising coming up underneath the right. Your lip’s split. No tears come. The adrenaline hasn’t faded yet from the fight. It’s still pumping around your body, and it seems to fuel anger. You sigh and shake it off. Grabbing your gym bag, you hang up your gloves in your locker and tie your shoelaces.

September air is sticky and dense, doing nothing to sooth the anxiety building under your skin. The Pogues are waiting outside the school gym for you, with the Twinkie. John B and Sarah sit in the front, with Kiara and Pope in the back. The back door is open. JJ leans against the passenger side, arms crossed over his chest. When he sees you, he offers a smile. His expression and everything about his demeanour scream sympathy and pity, and it makes you feel sick. You lost.

JJ doesn’t say anything. Just holds out his hand to take your gym bag. You almost toss it at him, climbing into the back, collapsing onto one of the seats. Your body cries out in thanks as you lean against the wall with a pained sigh, tipping your head back and closing your eyes.

“How you doing?” Kiara asks.

You purse your lips.

How are you doing? You lost – how do they think you’re doing?

“Fine,” you mumble.

There’s the sound of the door sliding shut and you feel JJ take the spot beside you. Your arms are folded over your chest. He settles on patting your knee, squeezing it in consolation, and it takes everything in you not to shrug it off. Your mind isn’t on the conversation that awkwardly starts up between the gang. It’s on the fight. Replaying every swing. Every punch that you should have dodged and every hit that you should have landed. That last one that Beth ducked out the way of, and her upper cut that had you falling to the ground, vision blurry, jaw close to snapping. It was obvious. You would’ve seen it coming from a mile away if you were watching it unfold from the crowd.

“How’s that sound, babe?”

You seem to register that it’s JJ talking, and that whatever he’s just asked is directed to you. Opening your eyes, you look to him in question. His hand is still on your knee and he squeezes again.

“Up for a house party?”

“Sure,” you say.

“You don’t have to,” Pope offers from the floor. You look over to him and shrug. Stretching out your arms, you sigh.

“Why not? Free booze, right?”

“Yeah, but is it best to drink after a fight? According to research, after a head injury—”

“Dude,” JJ says, cutting Pope off on his spiel.

The intelligent boy closes his mouth and nods, apologetic, looking out the window. You feel bad. You didn’t mean to bring down the energy for the night. It’s then that you notice how tense it is in the Twinkie. The radio’s on but it’s so quiet and makes everything feel ten times worse. Nobody wants to look at you. You hate it.

“He’s not wrong,” you say, finding a chuckle. “Probably not best to drink but when I am ever one to do the smart thing?”

“You’re not JJ,” Kiara can’t help but joke. JJ flips her off. You force a laugh. Pope seems to come back around, smiling at you.

“Guess he’s rubbing off on me,” you shrug, winking at the innuendo. Sarah must’ve spotted this in the rear-view mirror because she cringes, groaning out your name in disapproval.

“Gross.”

The group laughs, finding their rhythm again. JJ squeezes your knee for a third time, catching your attention. His eyes almost make your persona break: that everything’s fine, and that you’re okay with losing. Like it’s not eating you alive, making you want to crawl out of your skin, peel off your nails, and tear out your hair.

“You sure?” he quietly asks.

No, you’re not sure. The smart thing to do would be to go home, or back to the chateau, and sleep. Come to terms with the loss in your own time, in your own way. Eat something, since you’ve been fasting most of the day and burnt off your energy in the hour-long fight. Drink water and not cheap beer and vodka-heavy cocktails. Curl up in bed to your comfort show, ideally with JJ by your side, pulling you into his chest.

But JJ’s never seen you lose before. You never wanted him to. And you don’t want his friends thinking you’re some lame chick who can’t deal with a loss in a fight that doesn’t even count towards anything. So, you smile and nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you tell him, saying it in a way that makes it seem like he’s crazy for checking.

JJ doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t say anything. Just nods, eventually, and looks back to the front. You worry he’s mad at you, or disappointed, and the anxiety from it brings another round of adrenaline. To try and settle it, you lean your head on his shoulder and untangle your arms from yourself so you can take his hand into your hold.

Now that you’re acting like yourself some more, the group falls into their usual shenanigans. Conversation kicks up between Kiara and Sarah, with Pope chiming in from time to time. JJ begins to crack jokes, John B adding on to keep the humour flowing, and your fake laugh becomes so second-nature, it starts to almost feel real. Maybe this will be fine. A party would probably lighten your mood. The night was still young and things could easily turn around. You pull back to look at JJ. Take in his carefree smile, as he watches Kiara halfway re-enact some surf trick that she’d tried out the other day. Smile a little at his laugh when she mimics falling into the water. JJ seems to feel your gaze because looks down at you, brows furrowing in question. You don’t speak and instead press a kiss to his lips.

“Hey! No PDA in the twinkie,” John B heckles.

JJ flips him off in reply, not pulling away. When he does, he tells John B that he’s jealous. John B denies this, to which JJ says, ‘denial is a river in Africa’, with Pope soon correcting it to Egypt, earning the bird from your boyfriend. The ridiculousness of it has the girls laughing, including you.

There’s a few more twists and turns on the roads before John B’s pulling up into a spot on a street. Cars line the left and right side. There are people walking past, towards a house. It’s not quite Kook level but certainly nicer than something on the cut. Average, really. The gang excitedly chatters, getting up and fixing themselves. Sarah checks her hair in the rear-view and Kiara pulls on her beanie. Pope’s anxiously fixing the collar of his shirt. John B opens the back door for you all, and you and JJ jump out last, hands still intertwined. You all begin towards the house: the foursome slightly ahead, deep in effervescent chatter.

“You lemme know if you wanna leave early or anything,” JJ says to you.

You look away from the Pogues to meet his gaze. You nod, smiling. “Okay.”

“I’m serious. I’ve been to like a million of these things. We’re not gonna miss out on anything.”

The irritation threatens to come back. You push it away and try not to sound bitchy when you say, “I know, JJ. I’m no stranger to house parties either, remember? I had a life before I met you.”

JJ takes it as a joke, thankfully, and laughs, nodding. “Fair enough.”

Your arms sway lightly as the two of you walk up to the house. JJ fixes his cap as he jogs up the stairs, you in tow. Your thighs scream out. You’re tired and should be in bed, but you repeat your mantra (life is short and the night is long), and think about the drinks to be had and the weed to be smoked and the whole packet of cigarettes in your pocket that you’d pre-bought in celebration. Now, they’ll just be in consolation, you suppose.

The music can be heard from the front garden, so when you pass into the threshold of the house, it’s blaringly loud. You almost want to wince. The tinnitus from earlier still hadn’t worn off and the loud music only seemed to make it worse. For being fairly early in the night, there’s a good crowd of people about. Not so cramped that you can’t move, but enough that you must wriggle through a little. JJ calls out ‘hey’ to a couple of people he recognises. You watch as John B does a lazy handshake with someone from school as the lot of you head to the kitchen for a drink. Kiara and Sarah begin to grab some cans, passing them around. Finally, you remove your hand from JJ’s and crack one open. Kiara holds hers up in a proposed toast.

“To the rest of the night,” she announces.

“To the rest of our lives,” JJ grins, clinking his can to hers. The rest of you follow. Your smile feels genuine once more. It’s like you’re zipping back and forth from emotion to emotion. Alcohol will definitely help. Yep.

Necking half the can, you cringe at the bitter taste as it crawls down your throat.

After that, the group begins to split off. One beer turns to two, then three, then five. You do a couple of shots for good measure: vodka and sambuca. Beer pong with Kiara against two Kooks doesn’t seem like the worse idea, until you’re seven drinks under just from that. The walls begin to bend and stretch. There are some little gaps of how you get from one place to the next: skipping out the dull parts. You stumble through the doorway of the kitchen, the cup in your hand empty.

You’ve lost all the Pogues by now, including JJ. Part way through beer pong he got roped into a conversation and then you lost track of him. On the basis that you barely knew where you had been or where you were going, it seemed futile to search for him. The sting from losing didn’t hurt that bad anymore though. It felt like the memory of a bad dream; miles away and unable to hurt you. You couldn’t tell JJ how much it was bothering you. You didn’t think he’d get it. Didn’t think he’d understand. He had enough problems, anyway. Your dumb insecurities were nothing that needed to be added. They seemed almost pathetic when stood against his troubles and concerns.

There’s a couple chatting when you get to the counter where the drinks are. You sort of elbow them out the way, ignoring their murmurs, grateful when they get the hint. You sigh and try and focus on the labels. As you go to reach for what you’re pretty sure is the vodka, there’s somebody shoving to stand beside you. They’re crowding your personal space, stand tall enough to cast a small shadow over you. You roll your eyes and bite your tongue. After the fight, your patience had been worn thin.

“Fancy seeing you here, huh?”

The lid that you’re halfway through unscrewing gets abandoned. You look up at who had come to stand near you.

“Great. As if today can get any better,” you mumble, looking back down to the vodka. There’s a new urgency to fill your cup.

“That anyway to greet an old friend?” Kelce asks, sardonic.

“That’s a generous use of the word,” you tell him.

The cup is halfway full now. It’s hard to judge things when your vision won’t seem to stay straight.

Before you can reach for the orange juice, Kelce is topping up your cup. “Vodka orange. You really don’t change, do you?”

“Is there a reason you’re tryna piss me off right now?” you ask sharply, looking up to his side profile.

He raises his brows, as if shocked by your comment, and it makes your stomach contort. Leisurely, Kelce puts down the juice and turns to meet your gaze. It’s weird how similar he looks to when he was younger. Just taller, more grown, some ageing around the jaw from the beginnings of stubble. When he holds your cup out to you, you feel reluctant to take it - taking anything from him is like accepting help from a corrupted cop - but you do. The memories his presence brings up feel easier when washed down with alcohol.

“You forget your manners?” he wonders. He picks up his own drink and takes a sip. JJ likes to tease you for the same thing, but when Kelce does, it doesn’t make you roll your eyes with mirth. It makes you annoyed.

“Thank you so much for your help, Kelce.”

When you say it, there’s a sickly-sweet smile on your face. It’s as fake as a politician’s candidacy. You move to leave, but Kelce starts speaking again before you can slip away.

“Heard you lost your fight,” he says. You freeze and look back to him. The sympathy he feigns makes your blood begin to boil. “I remember you were a sore loser. How you holding up?”

“Like you care.”

He shrugs and takes another drink. The plastic of your cup is beginning to warp in your grip.

“Lover boy doing much to ease the pain? Where’s he at, anyway?”

He seems to know he’s touched a nerve. There’s a smirk beginning to show.

“None of your business,” you tell him, bordering on a sneer.

“So you can’t find him either, huh? Probably for the best. Last I saw, he was chatting with some pretty brown-haired chick in the sitting room. Think she goes to Kildare High.”

You know Kelce’s ways. How he likes to get a rise out of anyone, especially you. The grovelling that he does to anyone above him - like a pathetic follower like a rescued puppy, afraid of being abandoned again – and the sneering he shows to the people below. You know how half the things that leave his mouth are disingenuous. But for some reason, you feel yourself lean into his words. Entertain him for a little too long.

“I told you to mind your business.”

Kelce ignores you. Goes on. “Yeah, yeah. They seemed pretty cosy, too.”

You feel your intestines warp at the thought. You know it’s bullshit. Makes the anger worse.

Clicking his tongue, he looks down at you. “Guess being the slut of Kildare isn’t everything, huh? Can’t keep even the scummiest of boys happy.”

It’s funny how easy you hear it. Over the pandemonium of overlapping conversations, the clambering of voices fighting to be heard, the bass of whatever house song is currently being blasted, you can easily make out Kelce’s flippant insult. What’s funnier is how quickly it takes effect. It hits you the same way Beth’s upper cut had. The adrenaline that had been lingering in your body for hours turns to gasoline in a split-second, and Kelce’s barely-there smirk is the spark. You don’t register tossing your cup to the side, or the closing of your fingers into a fist. The power behind the punch you throw is second nature. Maybe you yell before you throw it; you’re not entirely sure. The alcohol is making everything blur together into one confusing, continuous nightmare. Everything from the night is scrambling into this magnanimous, Machiavellian, murderous mess. The fight. The loss. The Pogues. JJ. Kelce. This.  

If people stop their conversations and pause to watch, gasping and shouting in panic or jeer, you don’t know. Your focus is on landing as many hits to Kelce’s face as you can. You’ve somehow managed to catch him off guard. He goes to bring his hands to defend himself, reflexively lashing at your face, and when the slap hits your cheek, it only adds more kindling to your fury. You lay another and another. You shrug off someone’s hands on your back, wanting to swing at them too. It’s then that you realise you’re screaming, hurling abuse at him. Any word you can think of. Any word that you know. Any word that’s ever been said to you. It starts to contort in your drunken haze, and it feels as if you’re attacking yourself. Berating her and heckling her.

“JJ!”

It’s Sarah screaming. Calling for help.

“Stop it!”

Kiara’s the one that’s been clawing at you. Trying to pull you off.

“JJ!”

When two arms wrap around your waist, hoisting you away from Kelce, you know it’s JJ before you hear his voice, angry and loud in your ear. “What the hell are you doing? Stop it!”

You’re still throwing punches, even though there’s no way they’d land on Kelce. Through the blur of it all – of your anger and the alcohol – you can make out Kelce’s face. It’s bloody and banged up, nearly bruising already, but it does nothing to appease you. It’s not enough. He needs to hurt like you hurt. You’re seething. Panting through your teeth that are barred like a lioness about to strike. Jaw tense and fists still clenched. Eventually, you register that you’re being half-carried-half-dragged outside. You violently shrug out of JJ’s hold and the move of it all makes you stumble forward. The dizziness hits in full force. A hand comes to your arm as you lurch forward in an attempt to catch your balance, but you shake it off.

“Would you stop it?” JJ snaps, trying to grab you again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Get off of me!” you shout. It makes the dizziness worse and you close your eyes.

JJ’s saying your name, trying to calm you down, trying to grab at you over and over. He’s angry, voice loud. You keep fighting out of his hold and usher him away. Stumbling further down the front garden, you can barely make out where you’re going. Someone’s looking at you, whispering to their friend, and you start shouting at them too. Cussing them out. JJ tries to barter with you once more when you do, this time coming to stand in front of you. You push him away, feet scrambling backwards in the process. It takes a while for you to get your balance.

Everything’s a mess.

You bring a hand up to rub at your forehead as if trying to erase the fog. The world won’t stay still and your vision won’t level out and now that the adrenaline is wearing off, everything hurts more. The pain in your knuckles and the ache in your muscles and the sting of Kelce’s slap to your cheek. When you lick at your lip, you realise the force from it had opened the cut again, tasting the copper of blood on your tongue. But all of it is so minute, so insignificant, to the clenching in your chest. You can’t breathe.

“Baby, just stop,” JJ’s saying. He’s not angry anymore – at least, he doesn’t sound it. He’s almost pleading, desperate to have you listen, his touch more tender as he grabs at your biceps. “Stop walking, okay? You need to focus on getting your breathing right.”

You shake your head and try and pull away again. But there’s nothing left in the tank. Everything hurts. Why does it all hurt?

The tears start to come. No. No.

You shake your head again, uselessly willing them away. JJ doesn’t seem to understand though; thinks you’re shaking your head at him. There’re murmurs from other people and the music is still loud and your ears are still ringing and all of it hurts. It just hurts.

The ground meets you quickly.

It’s the feeling of a hand on your back, stroking under the fabric of your shirt, that draws you back to reality. You’re lying on your side, it seems. Everything about it disorientates you and you whimper, trying to open your eyes.

JJ’s shushing you. It’s his hand, moving up and down. Your head’s on his lap. Can feel the move of one of his legs as he shifts in the seat.

“We’re nearly at the house,” he tells you softly.

You don’t really know what that means but you feel like it’s a good thing. A weak nod is your answer and you close your eyes again. It feels nicer to have them shut. There’s a conversation happening above you, hushed and impossible to follow. You focus on the stroke of JJ’s hand and let it ground you. The more you come around, the more you notice. A foul, lingering taste in your mouth, as if you’ve thrown up, and a sticky dryness on your cheeks from tears. When you stretch out your fingers, you wince. The cuts that had formed on your knuckles crack open and air stings at the open wounds. There’s a dull ache in your head. Jesus Christ - what a mess.

The car stops. You have enough sense in you now to figure out that you’re in the twinkie. The voice that had been talking to JJ goes quiet. A door opens then shuts. The cold air hits your arms when another opens, nearer to you. JJ’s shaking your shoulders gently.

“Come on, baby. Gotta sit up for me.”

You try to nod. Slowly easing yourself up, relying on JJ for help, you weakly slink out of the car. It’s John B, of course, waiting outside the door. He takes your forearm gently and lets you lean on him as you both wait for JJ to climb out. JJ and John B chat some more, quick and quiet, and then JJ’s coaxing you towards the house. Your legs feel like jelly. The van’s engine starts up but you don’t turn to look, instead focusing on making your way up the stairs of the porch.

“How you feeling?” JJ wonders.

“Like God’s having a migraine in my head,” you mumble.

He chuckles, solemn. “Yikes.”

Through the dark living space and the corridor you go, finally walking into the spare bedroom which yourself and JJ have unofficially claimed. The squish of the mattress and scratchiness of the quilt is like the embrace of an old friend. You sigh as you crawl to the pillows, curling into yourself. JJ rubs at your shoulder.

“I’m gonna grab you some water, alright? And a trash can in case you need to hurl again.”

Slipping in out and rest, you pull your knees closer to your chest. The dip of the bed when JJ sits down pulls you awake again, but there’s no energy left in you to open your eyes. There’s the shuffling of sheets and clothes, and then a blanket’s draped over you. Underneath, JJ wraps an arm over your waist, spooning against your back. You feel him press a kiss to your exposed shoulder.

“We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

You don’t reply. A part of you wants to cry at how sweet he’s being when you don’t deserve any of it, but there’s nothing left in you to produce a tear, led alone shed it.

Before you drift off, you hear JJ’s whispering voice.

“I love you.”

The hangover is brutal, like a train hitting a brick wall. It’s the thing that wakes you up. Groaning, you hesitate to open your eyes and face the music.

There’s barely a moment of peace before the memories of the night before come shooting back. Each one makes you want to wince as if taking an oncoming bullet. You shift in bed and roll onto your back. Sighing at the ceiling, you open your eyes. Step one, done.

Looking to your side, you see JJ. He’s still asleep, facing you, lips parted in silent snores. It makes you smile. The expression soon turns sombre, as you remember the chaos of the party. The sound of his voice, shouting at you, and then the worry shining through stronger whilst he kept trying to hold you. After everything else that had happened, the lost fight seemed like the set-up of a skit. Blacking out and riding home in the twinkie would be the punchline, you suppose.

You ease the blanket off you and try your best to sneak out of the bed without waking him. You can stand on two feet pretty good. Trudging to the bathroom, you relieve yourself before shrugging out of your clothes. The shower takes a few minutes to heat up and you kill the time by inspecting your injuries in the mirror. Black eye, split lip…Vague outline of a handprint on your cheek. Joy. You didn’t exactly blame Kelce for it; if somebody was throwing punches at your face, you think you’d react in a similar way. You also didn’t feel any pity for doing what you did. Was it completely unhinged? Yes. Was it rightfully deserved? Abso-fucking-lutely.

You brush your teeth to try and rid the awful hangover taste from your mouth and then climb into the shower. Wash your hair again and your body, as if trying to rinse away any remnants of yesterday. Dry off and walk back to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, clothes tucked under your arm in a bundle. You inspect the bedroom floor for clothes and steal one of JJ’s shirts. A pair of boxers is retrieved from the closet draw. You dress in the morning sunlight that sneaks through the few inches that the blind hadn’t closed. As you pull on the boxers, you stumble backwards into the dresser, causing it to bang against the wall. It startles JJ awake.

“Sorry,” you say meekly.

He blinks, taking you in, delirious from the lingering sleep.

“Is your hair wet?” His voice is croaky and low (and truthfully, kind of sexy) from want of use.

“Yeah,” you reply, bringing a hand up to tease through it. “I got a shower.”

“Oh.”

He sighs and sinks back down into the bed, now lying on his front. The blanket is down at his waist, bare back on display. Now dressed, you walk back to the bed and climb over him, sitting atop of the sheet, back against the headboard.

“Thanks for looking after me last night,” you eventually say, quiet.

JJ shrugs tiredly.

“I’ll always look after you,” he casually mumbles into the pillow. He doesn’t know how much weight is held in his words.

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin atop. Closing your eyes feels the only way to keep from crying.

“How’re you feeling?” JJ wonders. You open your eyes to look down at him.

“Like shit,” you admit.

“Hangovers can be hell,” he says.

And, yes, the hangover sucks, but that’s not what you mean. Telling him so is harder, though. The power behind your voice is feeble and it gives you away.

“Not because of that.”

It seems enough to wake JJ up. He lets out a quiet grunt as he pushes himself up. Your eyes are shut again, not sure if you can handle watching him as he looks at you. There’re the sounds of sheets moving as JJ sits. You wonder if he’ll move to hold you. He must choose not to and you can’t decide if you’re grateful or not.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“It’s so dumb,” you sniffle through a self-deprecating laugh. Your skin smells like soap. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, you nearly K.O’d Kelce and then did a pretty good passing-out-throwing-up move after so…I feel like it does matter,” JJ lightly presses. It helps; makes you smile sadly against your skin. He sighs. “I just wanna know what’s going on.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeat. JJ goes to protest but you lift your head, turning it to meet his gaze. The worry in his eyes makes your tears worse. “It’s so fucking stupid compared to all the shit you’ve got going on.”

JJ frowns.

“It’s not a competition,” he says simply. “Just cause someone’s got a broken leg doesn’t mean your paper cut doesn’t hurt.”

The metaphor makes you laugh. It’s tearful and weak and pathetic, and all the things you’re not, and you hate it. You hate that you have to admit to yourself and to JJ that maybe you’re not all that you scrub yourself up to be.

“You gonna let me in on the dialogue you got going on in your head?”

“All that it’s saying is that that was a really cheesy analogy,” you weakly joke.

JJ rolls his eyes and smiles. “I’ll take on the feedback.”

The sound of a bird outside has your attention switching. You turn your head away from JJ to look to the window. Through the sheer blinds you can just make out the banks outside of the chateau. Daylight shines happy, outlining the horizon and water reeds and tree trunks and canopies. Seeing it makes things feel simple. It grounds you enough to speak.

“I didn’t think I was gonna lose the fight,” you confess quietly.

JJ doesn’t speak. You wonder if maybe he didn’t hear you.

“It wasn’t like it was an important fight, baby,” he tells you. You keep staring out to the scenery through the blinds, trying to make out more details. “It came close, as well.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t like to lose.”

“You can’t win all of them,” JJ replies.

You chuckle, sadly. If only it was that simple. Shaking your head, you try your best to verbalise it.

“I have to win. It’s…It’s like it’s the only time I feel truly good about myself.”

You don’t give JJ time to reply. Turning away from the window and back to your boyfriend, you sit up straighter and wipe your cheeks.

“I always feel like I’m the worst, so I try to act like I’m the best. Try to be funny and cool and aloof. Unbothered. Truth is…I care what people think about me, all the time. Too much for it to be normal.”

JJ’s lips are in a line, bordering on a frown. He’s watching you like he’s trying to understand; or maybe he does, and he just wants to let you continue. Either way, you keep talking.

“This…thing happened to me in school, when I was thirteen, and I feel like it was this formative experience that shaped the rest of my life. Made me the way I am.”

The memories flicker to life in your mind like watching home movies and it brings more tears. You shakily inhale, glancing up at the ceiling as you gather some courage. You’d never told anybody this before. Never spoken about it since it happened. It’s hard to know where to start, exactly.

“Me and Kelce used to date,” you reveal.

In your peripheral, you see JJ’s lips part at the news. It makes you chuckle, rolling your eyes at your past self.

“I know, I know. I’m not proud of it. It was this dumb thing when we were thirteen. He had a crush on me after seeing me at this church thing, and some notes were passed and whatever, and somehow, we ended up dating. If you can even call it dating. Truth was, I was kinda excited. He was this cute guy who had more money than I could even comprehend, and he wanted me. Weird little pre-teen me. It felt kinda nice, being the only girl with a boyfriend, and a Kook one at that. God, every girl was jealous of me at school.”

You laugh at the memory. School was so fickle back then, as were your emotions. You could recall planning your wedding and your friends falling out as to who was going to be the maid of honour. It all feels so foreign now.

As you go on, you fix your gaze on the wall ahead.

“The longer we went out, the more he wanted to fool around. I knew I wasn’t ready for that. I barely had a grasp on kissing; I wasn’t in any place to have sex. But he really, really wanted to. And I really, really liked him. Thought I loved him, in my stupid little thirteen-year-old brain. I didn’t want him to stop liking me.”

When a quiet comes, as the painful memories begin to push past the puppy-dog ones, JJ hesitantly fills the quiet.

“Did you? Have sex with him?”

Pursing your lips, you shake your head. “No. But…He asked for some pictures, one night, and I couldn’t see the harm in it. I sent them on Snapchat, cause I thought they’d delete. He never screenshotted them either, so I figured that it was all done. He seemed really happy about it. I didn’t deep it that much and we just kept on dating for a bit.”

The room begins to feel a little claustrophobic and you pull yourself away from your knees. Stretching your legs out, you lean against the headboard again and look up at the ceiling. JJ’s eyes are on you, watching and waiting patiently. You search your head for the words.

“You ever gone somewhere and know that people are talking about you? I don’t mean in a self-obsessed way. I mean in the worst way. Like you’re a spectacle for them to look at. Well, I went to school one day, and I just knew that everyone was looking at me and talking about me. It wasn’t until later on that I knew why. I remember it so clearly, even though it was like five years ago now. I went outside for lunch and was sat with my friends, and this girl on the table across starts showing her phone to her friends. They all start laughing.

And then they all start looking at me.”

When you look to JJ, his eyes are closed, as if in pain.

He knows.

“There’s this app you can download, where pictures that you get sent on Snapchat automatically save onto your phone, without ever telling the other person. Kelce didn’t delete them. He saved them and he showed them to his friends. The wrong person got them and made this anonymous twitter account. Leaked them online. And suddenly everyone at Kildare High and Kook Academy had seen my nudes.”

You’re crying now, trying to suppress your sobs and failing.

“And thirteen-year-olds are stupid. They can’t comprehend in their little underdeveloped, fucked up heads, that they’re looking at a person on their phone. That they were laughing and talking and looking at me. That it was the most humiliating, horrific feeling in the world, to know that everybody knows what you look like naked without you wanting them to. And for your boyfriend to be the reason why.”

JJ’s shaking his head. His jaw begins to tense, a clear shot sign that he’s angry. You look down at your legs and begin to mess with the ring he gave you – twisting it around your thumb.

“You wanna know what he said, when I confronted him about it? When I asked why he showed people them? Showed them to his friends?”

JJ doesn’t answer. You scoff as you recall it. The look on Kelce’s face – innocent like butter couldn’t melt in his mouth – when he shrugged off your hurt.

Another tear falls as you shake your head, lifting it just high enough to say, “he told me he wanted to ‘show me off.’ Like it was this romantic thing he’d done.”

From the corner of your eye, JJ’s shaking his head, running his fingers through his hair. You shakily take in a breath, wiping at your cheeks.

“Thanks to him and his kindness, I became the slut of Kildare. That’s what he said to me last night; the thing that set me off? He told me you were trying to get with another girl at the party, and then called me the slut of Kildare. It all just came screaming back and, after the fight and everything…I don’t know. I guess I just lost it.”

“Kinda wish I didn’t pull you off him, now,” JJ mumbles, hardly joking.

You laugh through your tears. The effort of it makes you cry more.

“I remember that happening. I remember hearing about the pictures and stuff at school.”

You turn to meet his gaze. There’s something blank in his look and you can’t quite tell what he’s thinking, but you feel like you might have an idea. You smile sympathetically, as if in understanding.

“It’s okay if you saw them, JayJ. I’m not expecting thirteen-year-olds to have the strongest moral backbones.”

But before you can finish your sentence, JJ’s shaking his head. “I never looked at them. Never felt right to.”

You pause, taken aback. “Really?”

He nods, pushing his fingers through his hair. It might be the most serious you’ve ever heard him, when JJ says, “I swear on my life, I never saw them.”

Swallowing, you close your eyes and nod. He never saw them.

“It’s so dumb, cause like a month later, everybody had forgotten it was a thing for the most part. Me and Kelce broke up – obviously – and never really spoke again. Except when we run into each other at parties. He likes to bring it up from time to time. Like he wasn’t the reason why I got the nickname.

I decided that being a slut wasn’t really a thing, and after my first proper boyfriend, decided that I actually like having sex. That it feels good. And I've sent nudes again, after, cause I wanted to.

I act like it doesn’t bother me, and usually it doesn’t, but sometimes…Sometimes I just find myself wondering after I get with someone, if they’d seen the pictures. If they were just curious to see the ‘where are they now’ version or whatever.”

At your solemn laugh, JJ chuckles. He shakes his head at the reference.

You sigh and shrug, wiping at your face once more. The tears have begun to slow. It feels like a weight’s been lifted off your chest. Like you’re breathing properly, with both lungs, for the first time in five years. The truth behind your competitive nature and your need for control. The insecurity behind your relationships that you never voiced and never confronted, brushing it under the rug, always knowing it to be there.

The prod of JJ’s toe on your foot brings your attention back.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I really like the ‘where are they now’ version,” he says.

You laugh. It feels like he's picked a pebble from out of your heart, making it lighter. “You do?”

“Mhm.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that you’re dating ‘the slut of Kildare’?” As you say the stupid nickname, you put on a voice as if presenting royalty.

JJ’s hand finds yours and loops your fingers together. “Honestly, I’m honoured that she’s settled for me.”

“Settled?”

He shrugs, smiling at you. “Everybody knows I’m punching.”

You shake your head in disagreement, jokingly adding, “let’s not talk about punching for a while, m’kay?”

JJ laughs at that. He tugs you nearer as his humour dies down, though his smile stays, and you lie against his chest. A kiss is planted to the top of your forehead.

“Thanks for telling me all that.”

You look up to him and take in his face. The slant of his brows and the cupid’s bow of his lips, smiling at you like you’ve given him the secret to the universe in your childhood-trauma-tale. Nothing’s changed in the way he looks at you; he still just sees you. You’re not sure you’ve ever had somebody understand you in the way he does, and get you like him. You worry that you may never find someone like JJ again. It’s a stupid worry, because you haven’t lost him.

Leaning up to kiss him, feeling fully at ease once you do, you can’t help but wonder how the hell you got so lucky.

“I love you,” you tell him. You feel it’s the only way to verbalise all you want to tell him. The two of you had never been very good with words.

A flush comes to his cheeks and the smile he gives you is one that you know is reserved for your eyes. Could solve any problem and heal any injury.

JJ kisses you once more, hard and certain.

“I love you too.”

[yangjeonginsbbg]

Reunited - Joel Miller

A/n: I just finished watching episode six of HBO TLOU, I haven’t played the game so I have pretty much no idea what happens after the ending of this episode, don’t come for me

Genre: Fluff, angst, some suggestive stuff

Summary: After almost twenty years of being apart, Joel makes his way back to you in Jackson, and also finding out someone else had came along too

“Honey, I’m taking Sarah to school now,” Joel’s voice called through the house, searching for yours. A quick shout back gave him the go. You soon heard the door shut, and the house became quiet, besides the radio that played quietly downstairs. Today was your husband’s birthday and you wanted to make it great, but being a doctor meant you’d get called in at random points, whether it be Christmas, your birthday or the middle of the night.

You met Joel after he brought Sarah into the ER with chicken pox, he was so worried and it warmed your heart to see that he cared so much for her. He brought her in a couple of times after and soon decided to ask for your number. About a year after, your casual dates developed into going to each other to fool around, and soon became a proper relationship and you became a proper family. You, Sarah and Joel (and Tommy).

“Alright, present, check,” You mumbled to yourself. “Cake, still at the bakery.” You made your way towards the mirror and looked in it, breathing slowly. You ran a hand over your stomach. “And you too, we’ll tell him later.” You’d been pregnant for a week at this point, but with Joel’s birthday coming up and your busy schedule, you never had the time to tell him.

That night, when you left for work, because a woman had a ‘seizure’ and was brought into the ER, you never once thought you wouldn’t see Sarah or him again, and that you’d have to raise a young boy by yourself.

Fifteen years later, you arrived at Jackson with Xavier, the fourteen year old you’d given birth to in the middle of an abandoned hospital, trying to make as little noise as possible as a way to not attract any infected. Upon arrival, you immediately recognised someone, someone who was stood on top of some scaffolding. Tommy had arrived in Jackson not long before you, he wanted to stay but you wanted to go out an look for Joel, but the depression of finding out about Sarah kept you grounded there.

“We’ll be safe here for now Ellie,” Joel said to the girl on the horse in front of him, just before he spotted a familiar figure. His concerned expression dropped, fading into relief. “TOMMY!” Joel got off his horse as Tommy climbed down the stairs, before holding each other in an embrace. Tommy chuckled, holding his older brother. Maria and Ellie stared at the reunion, and Ellie cracked a smile.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Tommy asked, pulling away from the older.

“I came here to save you,” Joel answered plainly, a chuckle from him turned into a laugh and they pulled each other in again. Tommy pulled away after a couple of minutes, before smiling and nudging Joel’s shoulder.

“There’s someone you’ll probably want to see,” Tommy smiled.

You, on the other side of the town, were stitching up a young girl who’s slipped on some ice and split her knee open.

“Your doing really well Beth,” You praised. “You’re so brave honey.”

“Thank you Dr Miller,” She whispered, holding onto her stuffed bear. You grabbed a bandaid from the first aid kit, and placed it on her knees.

“You know, that’s gonna leave an epic scar,” You smiled, helping her up. “Now, don’t run, and make sure you keep the bandage on for two weeks, otherwise the stitches might open again.” The young girl nodded and walked out the door, you turned around as you heard her speaking to her mother, or at least you thought it was her mother, and began repacking the med-kit.

“Y/n? There’s someone here for you,” Tommy’s familiar voice came from the other side of the room.

“Another kid?” You asked.

“Not exactly.” When you turned back around to face him, you were met with someone else, someone familiar, someone who had aged a lot since you last saw him.

“Joel?” You whispered, your voice barely audible, you slowly made your way around the table. He came closer to you and pulled you in gently, before squeezing you tight. “Oh my god.”

“Oh honey,” He muttered, barely believing that it was you, mostly because he thought you’d been dead for twenty years.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Tommy nodded, taking a step back.

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” You mumbled against Joel’s shoulder.

“I thought you were dead,” He whispered back. His arms held your whole body against him. “My girl, my beautiful girl.” You pulled away and held his face in your hands, stoking his prickly cheeks with your thumbs.

“You got old,” You sniffled, tears brimming in your eyes.

“You aged well,” Joel grinned, and you hummed before pulling him into a kiss. You had missed the feeling, you’d never gotten over Joel, after all, your son was pretty much a spitting image of him. You wrapped your hands around his neck and smiled into the kiss, Joel returned the action, holding your hips and placing you onto the table. He bit your lip, causing you to whimper a little, and reached for the buttons on your shirt.

“Oh Jesus Christ! I’ll come back later!” A different voice yelled, it scared you and caused you to kick Joel, who groaned at the action. You closed your eyes before sighing and pushing Joel away a little, who held his stomach. “Mom, who’s this?”

“Mom?” Joel repeated. You buttoned your shirt back up.

“Xavier, this is Joel,” You introduced slowly, and you saw Xavier’s eyes widen. “Joel, this is Xavier Joel Miller… your son.”

“It’s um, nice to meet you sir,” Xavier nodded politely, Joel was shocked to say the least and looked at your for reassurance.

“I’ll tell you about it in a bit,” You said, Joel turned back to the nineteen year old and shook his hand. Xavier wrapped his arms around the taller man and Joel was a little stiff before hugging him back.

“My son,” Joel muttered.

That day you spent catching up with Joel and getting to know Ellie, who when you first saw her, thought was Joel’s daughter, but turned out they were only moving her to somewhere else. You were a little relieved to hear that. You lived opposite Maria and Tommy, so naturally Joel and Ellie moved in with you and your son.

“Dude, you’re so cool for a nineteen year old,” Ellie laughed as Xavier spoke with her. “All the nineteen year olds in FEDRA are fucking assholes.”

“Ellie!” Joel hissed.

“Wow, she may not be your daughter but she sure as hell has your mouth,” You laughed, placing a coffee in Joel’s hands, “Have you ever had Cocoa sweetheart?”

“No,” Ellie smiled, taking it out of your hands. “But I heard it’s good.”

“How’s he my son?” Joel asked as you sat down next to him.

“Well do you remember that night when you were laid off,” You started. “A week before the outbreak? Sarah had gone to visit Tommy and you were stressed, so I told you that you could do anything to me.” Xavier gagged and stood up.

“Ugh, I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing about my conception, but here we are,” He scoffed. “You coming Ellie?”

“Absolutely,” She chuckled.

“Don’t go to far!” Joel yelled as they walked out the door, you placed a hand on his leg and kissed his cheek.

“They’ll be fine,” You smiled, Joel leaned back and placed the coffee on the end table.

“How long have you been here?” Joel asked.

“About five years ago, maybe four,” You answered.

“So you didn’t give birth to him here?”

“No.”

“Where?”

“The middle of an abandoned hospital, I was alone there until some gang found me a couple of weeks later, they took me in,” You explained, Joel looked at you with a sadness in his eyes.

“Has there ever been anyone else?”

“No, never, what about you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“I don’t like the name Xavier though,” Joel smiled after a moment of silence, you chuckled.

“Why?”

“Too formal, you know, if I ever had a boy I always thought I’d call him Jack, or Charlie,” Joel smiled softly.

“Jack?” You repeated. “Jack Miller?”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t it remind you of the guy from The Shining though?”

“No baby, that’s Jack Nicholson,” Joel laughed, you returned the laugh and he wrapped arm around your shoulder before you curled into him. “I missed being with you like this.”

“Me too,” You sighed. “I love you Joel Miller.”

“I love you too Y/n Miller.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

[netherfeildren]

FEAR OF GOD: Chapter VIII: The Fisher King

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Teach me how to ask for forgiveness, even when I know I don’t deserve it. 

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: angst; PTSD; very brief mention of infertility in the first section, description of injury

A/N: Art is Breach by Keith Perelli (2006-2007)

Word Count: 4.2K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII: The Fisher King

But still. Still.

Bless me anyway.

I want more life. I can’t help myself. I do.

I’ve lived through such terrible times, and

There are people who live through much worse, but… You see them living

anyway. When they’re more spirit than body, more sores, than skin, when they’re

burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in

the corners of the eyes of their children,

they live. Death usually has to take life 

away. I don’t know if that’s just the animal. 

I don’t know if it’s not braver to die. But I 

recognize the habit. The addiction to being 

alive. We live past hope. If I can find hope

anywhere, that’s it, that’s the best I can do.

It’s so much not enough, so inadequate but

…Bless me anyway. I want more life.

-Tony Kushner, Angels in America

“Do you think you’ve been happy, so far?” you ask her one night. 

“I think so, yes. Have you?” Her answer is immediate. She’d never been one for much indecision – that was always your role.

“Yes. At times. I’ve also been very sad.”

“Me too.” You can hear it now, that sadness, in the quietness of her voice.

“I hope we can be happy in the future. That we’ll be together, always.” The two of you are laying under the stars, hidden in the forest, in your old sleeping bags. She says the trees guard you, keep you safe. If you’d had more experience, you’d have felt very close to death in that moment. 

“We will be. Don’t worry about that.”

“I don’t want either of us to die,” and you can hear how young you sound, how naive. Despite all you’ve been through, you’ve not been able to let go of that part of yourself. When you’re older you will think that, perhaps, that was not such a bad thing. 

“We won’t. That won’t happen.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can. I have a plan. If we stick to it, we’ll be okay.”

“Alright.” Your trust in her is implicit, after all. 

She is very quiet for a while after that, you think she’s fallen asleep, but then suddenly: “You know, I can’t have children.” 

“How do you know?”

“Things were off – Dad was able to run some tests.” That sadness is there again, echoing in her voice, and it is a very painful thing to hear from someone you love so much – someone you know would want that for themselves. 

“I’m sorry.” For there is nothing else to be said in light of such a tragedy for her. She would make a wonderful mother.

“It makes me really sad.” There’s quiet again, for a long time, but then: “I know it’s a terrible world. Not safe – but still… It makes me very sad.” 

“I’ll have one for the both of us. We can share.”

One of the last times you ever hear her laugh – you should have cherished the sound more – branded it in your memory. “I’d like that.”

Beth is dead two days later. 

-

He sits by your sick bed for days. Shrouded in darkness, he lets his fear, his nightmares swallow him whole – the great gaping maw of a monstrous dream come to fruition. He thinks of Sarah’s mother, his ex-wife, for some reason – can’t understand why she comes to his mind in this moment, honestly. He hasn’t thought about her in decades, that woman he’d known so long ago – can hardly remember her face now. It makes him indescribably sad.

He’s trying to prevent his mind from dissociating. To keep himself present, in case you wake, in case you need him. But the sight of you, small and pale and broken. So still. It fractures his mind in a way he cannot understand. The days of you being lost – of his mad flight to find you, out with teams of hunters, combing the forest for any sign of you, the way he’d screamed at Maria and Tommy and Ellie and anyone else who got too close, spoke too loudly. He’d been extremely close to violence, of the unimaginable sort. That terrible last night, his own destruction, flashing over and over and over in his mind, the things he’d said to you. He could not compare the terror to anything else he’d ever experienced before. The pure horror of that being the last memory you’d ever have of him, of coming across your dead, mangled body, of never seeing your bright, unguarded smile again – in decades filled with fear, day in and day out, he now felt he’d been infected with the most unimaginable of diseases. A stabbing, bone melting pain to his mind, his heart, his flesh, again and again, all of his own making. 

This is his fault. He did this to you. Pushed you away. Made you feel like you needed to flee, escape him. He wants to be angry with you for being so stupid, for going out there without him. But how could he not understand it – for what choice did he give you? That you’d prefer to face the monsters out there, rather than the one inside, the one in front of you – rather than him. He thinks he too would rather face the horrors out there, a thousand infected, than face himself. Face his own guilt, his own shortcomings. 

He still isn’t speaking to Maria – can barely look at her. He’d told her if you were dead it’d fall on her head. That he’d blame her for it forever. It was a viciously unfair, nasty thing to throw at her when he’d been the one to push you away, the one to tell you to leave, when this was really all his fault alone. 

He thinks of Tess – how he’d not been able to keep her safe either, all that time ago. A regret so profound, he’s sure he’ll swim in it for the rest of his miserable life. 

Ellie had said sending you away that night had perhaps been the worst thing he’d ever done. The sight of you in this bed proves that fact, and he is filled with a rage so black, so all consuming, it cripples him, will send him to his grave if you don’t come out of this. 

He hasn’t slept in days. Merely closing his eyes to rest his racing mind a few moments at a time. The baby you’d had with you has been with Maria. Tiny, squealing, rageful thing that she is. She only quiets when Maria brings her into your room, lays her beside your sleeping form. As if she knows already, even now, that the best place in the entire world is at your side. He closes his eyes in the quiet interminable moments of waiting and tries to picture Sarah’s mother in his mind. To remember her face. He cannot. There’s only a flash of dark curls. The sound of her voice, gone to time. All he can conjure with clarity is the image of Sarah’s smiling face that last morning he’d spent with her. His most precious memory. Something he exercises in his mind every morning when he wakes, lest, he too, forget that. He wonders if she’s still alive, what happened to her after the outbreak. He hopes she survived – hopes she lived a life not too full of terrible, painful things. Although, he isn’t entirely sure there exists any other version of this life anymore. He hopes he can find it, if it does, and give it to you, if you’ll let him.

He looks back at your resting form. The welts and scrapes that had marred the side of your face are healing well. The swelling receding into angry bruising. Nancy was worried you’d sustained a head injury, as an explanation for your prolonged unconsciousness, but neither the bones in your face, nor your skull were broken. Perhaps only a mild concussion, she thought. It inclined her to believe this was simply a side effect of the blood loss you’d endured from the wound in your side, the exhaustion and trauma.

Joel thinks he might become a religious man after this. Thinks he might start going to church, prostrating himself at the effigy of the cross to thank whatever higher power there exists for bringing you back to him, keeping you alive, allowing him another chance to see that smile, even if it’s never directed at him again. Because that is something else he is terribly afraid of. That his last words to you that night, will be the only thing you’ll ever be able to remember of him. All you’ll ever be able to see of him, going forward. He is so, so afraid of the consequences of his own terrible actions. Terrified that the moment he cast you away will be the only moment the two of you live in together for the rest of your lives.

And he thinks: Joel Miller, you are a man made up of fears. 

-

The first thing you see when you finally open your eyes again are his hands. They’re scarred. Tiny, faded marks of a life past, marring the lines of a map of all his pain, his history. Your body hurts, one large throbbing bruise. But the fire in your shoulder, the muscles of your back and arm, has abated. You say a silent prayer of thanks that you’d been able to keep from straining it more. Any more damage and you’d have probably lost function of the limb entirely.

His eyes are closed, his temple pressed against his fist on the arm of the chair pulled up to your bedside. The house is entirely silent – dark and peaceful. You stretch your legs under the blankets, no terrible amount of pain, and his eyes spring open immediately at the subtle sound of your shifting. So attuned to you, that the mere rustling of the sheets brings him to wakefulness. You watch the dilation of his pupils, everything else frozen in place. Head still resting against his fist, he stares at you wide eyed and unblinking. You take in his face – his eyes are bloodshot and rimmed in the harsh purple bruising of exhaustion. His too long, messy curls lie limply across his forehead. He looks haggard, wrung dry. The most defeated you’ve ever witnessed him. Neither of you say anything as you study the other. He still hasn’t moved and the look in his eyes – afraid, resigned, like you’re a predator about to come in for the kill strike. 

You feel indescribably sad for him, seeing him like this. Brought down low. It’s wrong. Not an image of the Joel you know that should exist in the world. You’re sure you mustn’t look much better. Broken, the both of you, in this shared moment. You slowly start to slide your palm across the bed towards him, and like a flip bringing him back to life, he melts onto the ground from the chair. Coming to kneel on the floor at the edge of the bed, he grasps your outstretched hand and presses his forehead into your palm, his grasp so, so gentle. His other hand snakes up, under the blankets to grip your bare knee in his warm palm, his thumb slowly sweeps over the bend.

His shoulders begin to jerk, in tiny little gasps. He’s crying.

“I was so afraid.” It is choked and guttural, a confession of the highest order, an admission of weakness, a supplication for mercy, for forgiveness. 

You know that his words are all encompassing. He was afraid that night, when the two of you were attacked, when he told you he loved you, when he sent you away, when he couldn’t find you. He’s been afraid for decades, since the moment he met you, since the moment his daughter died. Your heart cleaves in two at the sight of his defeat. The hot slide of his tears through the spaces between your fingers, pooling in the cup of your palm, the liquid feel of them burns you, incites a violence in your heart to rise up at the sight of his suffering, of his pain. But you say nothing. Too weighed down by your own terror, your own pain. 

By the prospect of having to tell him the truth. The secret you’ve been carrying with you, that you’re pregnant. Terrified of his reaction. Of his possible rejection. For it isn’t just you anymore that would feel the loss of him. There’s two, three, of you now. And you’re terrified of having to ask him to bear this with you. Don’t want to have to ask. And part of you knows, is positive, that he’ll be there for you without you ever having to even ask. That there would be no question of it. No other alternative. That if anything else, the man before you is honorable and good – despite his violence, despite his sins, despite his fear, he is good. He would never abandon you to face this alone. But still, you’re afraid. Just as he is, just as he has been. So you say nothing, simply bring your other hand up to cup the back of his bent head. 

There are no words that could fit in the quiet space of your room in that moment – so swollen is it with all your shared fears, all the things left unsaid. You let him cry. 

-

Ellie finds him sitting on his front porch, guitar in hand, strumming gently – a mug sits by his side. There is no fight to be had now, this she knows. Perhaps no reconciliation, either – not at this moment. But there is much to be said, still, or even perhaps, merely silence to be shared. This is her olive branch. In the days since your disappearance, and then since you’d been found, recovering, she’s had a lot of time to think. To consider her choices. 

“Hey.” The look on his face as he watches her walk up guts her – so full of reluctantly glad surprise. 

“What’re you drinking?”

“Coffee.”

Of course. “Where’d you get that?”

“Uh… those people that came through last week. A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it, but … it’s not bad.”

“Oh,” she’s slightly at a loss for what to say, how to continue. Their once easy banter seems so unreachable with so much laying between them. “You need to stop harassing Jesse about my patrols.”

“Okay,” he says succinctly – like he’s not going to take her incendiary bait. He looks away, considering what he’s about to say next. “Dina. Is she your girlfriend?”

And nope, she sure as fuck hadn’t been expecting that one. “No! She – That was just one kiss. It doesn’t mean anything,” she denies, referring to the kiss he’d accidentally witnessed last night when he was on his way home from trying to see you. “She just… I don’t know why she did that.”

He tilts his head contemplatively, gives her a knowing look. “You do like her.”

“I’m so stupid.”

“Look, I have no idea what that girl’s intentions are, but I do know that she would be lucky to have you.”

And she knows she told herself she didn’t come here to fight, but he’s so damn aggravating and nosy, she can’t help it. “You’re such an asshole!”

“I’m not trying to –”

“Just – just leave it.” She snaps, looking out at the dark road. “Have you been in to see her today?” Veering towards less conflictive ground. 

“Nancy didn’t let me in, said they were both restin’.” He drags his hand tiredly over his face, “Haven’t had much of a chance to talk at all.”

“But before… how’s she been?”

“On the mend – tired, I think. Nance said she’s recovering well. But quiet. She– she doesn’t much want to see me, to be honest …” Maria had said you’d been withdrawn. Not really wanting to see anyone besides Nancy and the baby.

“That was – When we couldn’t find her… Scared the fuck out of me.”

He looks down into his mug of coffee, his jaw shifting side to side, “Yeah… yeah. I– it was–” She knows he can’t discuss it, can’t even voice the terror that gripped him at the thought of losing you. Something about the confirmation of knowing how much he loves you, settles something within Ellie. Reinforces the resolve in her heart. 

“Not just for her though. I was scared for you too.” The look he gives her then – she sees that flicker of desolation she was so scared he’d be lost to forever if you’d not come back – if you’d died. There isn’t much left in Ellie that’s overly sentimental, but she could cry at the relief of knowing you’re okay, the both of you. 

“Kate’s cute as fuck,” she smiles. 

“She is… got those big blue eyes.”

“What are you gonna do? With them?”

“Not much I can do, I guess. ‘Cept take care of ‘em. Keep ‘em alive. If she’ll have me…”

“Love them,” she adds, and he hums in agreement, tilting his head a bit. No point in hiding it, he’s gone soft, everyone knows now, might as well embrace it. Put up a sign. “Well,” she continues, “We both know you’re good at doing that, at least,” her eyes are full of laughter, full of memories. “Taking care of misbehaving girls that can’t ever do what they’re told.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kiddo. You listened sometimes.”

“Yeah…” she chuckles, “You’re right, there was the rare occasion.” Her grin is roguish.. 

“Guess I’ve got enough practice ‘bout now, don’t I?

She goes suddenly serious, “Do you ever feel ashamed? When you remember what you did?” The question is abrupt, as if she wasn’t expecting herself to ask, but couldn't help it. She could be referring to so many things, so many sins. 

He thinks about the day after Sarah died, when he’d been so ready to follow her to whatever end. His mind shies away from the memory – that is shame –  a wound healed over, but still tender if pressed on too harshly. But he considers it now, in light of her question, how the overwhelming feelings driving that choice had been acceptance in that instant. A readiness to be done with all that continuing in a world without his daughter promised. Fate had granted him the opportunity to flinch, a chance he’d then passed on as a gift to Ellie. No matter how she saw it, he’d given her a chance to flinch. Something perhaps, one couldn’t recognize had they never consciously held that cold gun in their hand, pressed it to the tender nook of their temple and looked their own mortality in the face. But he’d given it to her, and not even an entire life of reliving all he’d endured as of yet, could ever, ever make him regret that choice. A parent did what they could to give their child the gift of choice. That was, in the end, the only thing one could do. The gift of choice, something he now had and so arrogantly squandered. Birdie was his choice. Fate had given him a gift once again, now he had to consciously decide to flinch or not. 

“No. Never.” There is no doubt – no room for doubt. “I told you once, if I ever had the chance to do it again, I’d do it exactly the same.” There was a space where one could exist with their sins and not resent them. Joel knew it well now. There was only one road that had led him to this moment, to this place. He could not regret the decisions that’d brought Ellie to this life of peace and safety. That had brought him to your door. You had never felt like a sin. The sight of you, it made him calm, so free. There had been fear, too much of it, but never regret, never shame alongside your name.

“Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?” he asks her, and he can see the question takes her aback, a second of shock crossing her face. It’s all the answer he needs – for the thought to never have even entered her mind. She shakes her head, sharp and quick, “No.” She pauses, and then says, “Fuck your fear, Joel. If that’s what’s keeping you from her you have to let it go. It’ll be the thing to kill you in the end. Maybe not dead in the ground, but in a worse way.”

“I know…I know, Ellie.”

And so what if he had been afraid? In a world, a life, overrun with the worst possible outcome playing out in real time, what was one more terror? He realized it wasn’t the fear of loss that held him back. It was the fear of himself. Of his own inadequacy, his own monstrousness. Because he’d already lost you. Could feel the current loss of you, your absence, acutely. Like a gaping, putrid wound. The days you’d been missing, that he’d been so fucking terrified that he’d never see you again, that you were dead, as he searched desperately for you – he was already experiencing that which for so long was the reason for his denial. And he could think of nothing now that could be worse than not having you. Of knowing his little bird was existing out in the world and that he couldn’t touch you, hold you, kiss you. Fuck his fear indeed. 

What did it matter if the world was vast and cruel if, in the end, they had one another?

“I struggled a long time with surviving. And no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for, something to be brave for,” he repeats his long ago words to her.

“You keep going for family… And she’s family.”

“Yeah… she is.”

“All this, it can’t have been for nothing.”

“It’s not. It won’t be.”

Existing in a grave for all those years, only to be violently pulled awake by a forest fire of a little girl – it changed the nature of a man. His nature had been changed irrevocably. And he needed to give this new version of himself to you now, in its entirety. And what struck him most was that despite all this, despite all he’d changed, lost and grown, since the start of all this, since Sarah died – who he was hadn’t entirely been determined yet. There was still possibility within him. There was still hope for more. And you saw that, you’d always seen that. 

In a sudden startling way, he could perceive what he was, what he lacked, what he could be. You shared that perception; your vision of him was another gift. What was it about this sudden acute sense of self perception that was so close to madness, and how was it that suddenly, when you realized you were in love, it was as if you were able to see the world as it really was? Cordyceps had blanketed the earth in a film of death that he now saw in spectrums. There was a spectrum to death as it existed in the world, as what you allowed it to shape itself, and you, as. How did you perceive death – loss? How did you let it affect you when it inevitably touched your life? Was it to overwhelm you – or exist alongside you as simply another phenomena of nature? He could exist on that spectrum set about by nature or he could break free from it. Cordyceps – and all humanities’ basest desires it catered to – could go on existing, could continue to subjugate the world to its will, but he would break free from that subjugation of fear, of death, of failure, he would live his life now as he chose to. He could perceive with such clarity now what was real and what was not. His little bird was real and alive and waiting for him. This was no delusion, no farcical whim; it was a glance down into time – into the realities he’d once known and lived in, a world before calamity and fungus and dead little girls – and it wore the staggeringly beautiful face of you, a glance at the woman he loved. 

“She’s angry with me. I– I hurt her.”

“Hmm… True… but she isn’t like us… she’s good. Kind. She’ll forgive you. She understands you.”

“Perhaps,” he says, but he isn’t sure, is terrified of the alternative, will try and make it up to you for the rest of his life if you need him to. 

“Maybe time’ll be the thing to heal this wound” 

He pauses at that, “It wasn’t time that healed it… remember?” The memory of their past hangs, once again, heavy in the air, but perhaps now, in this moment, a bit lighter than before. 

She shakes her head, gives him a small smile, “I remember.”

 She’s quiet for a moment, pensive. He’d missed her so much. This easy casual nothingness between the two of them. Just being together, talking. And as he takes her in, her chin tipped to the breeze, eyes closed, he thinks: if he could have done it all again, he would have loved her better. Perhaps made better choices. But he could not have loved her more. 

How broken, how small he must have been, just a short time ago, to have found that thought so difficult to confess, even just to himself. 

“Go find her, Joel. Tell her what you need to tell her.”

Chapter IX

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[wormwoodandhoney]

july anticipated releases

(note: i have not yet read any of these and cannot speak to their quality- i’m just intrigued by the synopsis or author!)

The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst is a cozy fantasy about a woman and her familiar (a sentient spider plant) open an illegal spell shop and falls in love with her nosy neighbor.

The Dallergut Dream Department Store by Mi-Yee Lee (translated by Sandy Joosun Lee) is a Korean novel about a store that sells dreams. I believe this is also sort of a cozy fantasy, but I'm not sure!

Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle is a novel about a Hollywood writer who is being pressured to kill off the gay characters in his long-running series. When he refuses, monsters from his past begin to haunt him. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I'm intrigued!

I Was a Teenage Slasher by Stephen Graham Jones is a slasher movie from the point of view of the teenaged boy cursed to be the slasher. I love SGJ and I'll read pretty much anything he writes.

The Blonde Dies First by Joelle Wellington is another slasher with a twist- when a group of teens accidentally summon a demon that follows slasher movie tropes, Devon realizes that the group's blonde, she's up to die first, while her longtime crush is slated to be the final girl.

[torchflies]

Two Purim Nights (5755 and 5777) or How Iceman met Hangman

| Little Purim drabble I had kicking around in my drafts, dropping it in here a day late. 😂 🕍|

Jericho meets Tom for the first time on Purim, 5755. 

It's not the first time Tom meets Jericho, but now that the boy is seven he has the ability to remember this interaction, one that tastes like raspberry hamantaschen and sounds uproarious and loud. 

He sits beside Tom for the reading of the Megillah, in English first and then in Hebrew. He distinctly remembers sitting by Tom because a nasty flu had taken out most of their usual Torah readers, so it was Jericho’s father who read the Megillah in Hebrew for the congregation. His Mama was scared of his baby sister getting sick so she and Leah stayed home while Jericho and his father went to Beth El that night.

Jericho remembers Tom because they had matching outfits. 

He had begged his Abba day and night for weeks, until the Captain had returned from Pearl Harbor-Hickam with a little green flight suit for Jake — the smallest they had in stock, but one that still hung off him like an oversized onesie. He had to fold and stuff the legs into a pair of boots two sizes too big and roll up the arms until it looked like he had a pair of cloth water-wings, but he didn't care. It was a real flight suit! 

He has a pair of his Abba’s aviators perched on his head in front of his green kippah and he practically throws himself down beside Tom, two groggers in hand. 

The blond looks at him with a surprised little smile and reaches out to fix Jericho’s collar with long, nimble fingers. He has a piano player’s hands, like Jericho’s Mama. He even looks like her too, with his very blond hair, round lips and sharp nose. They even have the same pretty blue eyes, like cake frosting. 

“I'm a pilot!” The seven-year-old chirps, swinging his big heavy boots. “Are you a pilot too?”

Tom nods obligingly, opening his copy of the Megillah and holding a finger to his lips, “Shush, we’re about to start, tattele.”

Jericho nods back, very seriously, and finds his place with his finger. Tom reaches over to nudge it into the right spot. He does that periodically throughout the two readings, making horse noises and quietly acting out the sillier scenes to make Jericho laugh into his folded hands. Tom is the funniest pilot he's ever met. They whip their groggers together when they hear Haman’s name and Jericho dissolves into frantic giggles at the bigger blond’s faces, like he's just taken a whiff of the stinkiest cheese. 

After the readings and blessings, he drags Tom into the social hall with both hands, so that they can grab some hamantaschen and punch. 

He keeps up a running commentary on everything he knows about airplanes and jets and the Navy. He tells Tom all about his Abba the Captain and about how much he wants to fly one day. 

They're in the middle of discussing which is better, poppy seed or fruit hamantaschen, with chocolate sliding in as a left field contentor, when his Abba comes up to them with a grin. 

“Tomek!” He exclaims, reaching out to shake Tom’s hand with both of his, “When did you get back stateside?”

“Last week.” Tom smiles, “He's gotten big.” He juts his chin towards Jericho, who is trying to fit an entire cookie into his mouth in one go. 

His Abba laughs, “He's just like Sarah that one, he’ll be taller than me by spring.”

“He's six?”

“Seven!” Jericho pipes up with a giggle. 

“Ah!” Tom reaches over to ruffle his hair, “Your Mama was taller than me by the time we were seven.”

Jericho tilts his head, “You know my Mama?”

Tom looks at him like he's trying to hold the whole world in one go. “I do, she's my twin sister.” 

—

On Purim, 5777 — Jake Seresin dresses as a pilot again for the umpteenth time and sits beside Tom Kazansky at Beth El, with two groggers in hand and a smile on his face. A smile, that he now realizes, is identical to Tom’s.

[sarahheathcliff-evelinmiller90]

Sarah Heathcliff + Evelin Miller Ask Blog!

(The icon and everything else is very temporary)

🦉🦋” please don’t make me have to worry about you. Please call me back, please.” 🦋🦉

(ran by @seasonalmoss check it out for general art)

Another ask blog I have! Again, im sure there is a lot more ask blogs but here are my takes on the two! These are conjoined because I really can’t handle four accounts. I have another ask blog as well as an ask blog thats ran by my twin (@thequasarwinds ) that all go in conjunction with each other (@adamurray88 @thatcherdavis92mcpd )

RULES

-flirting is okay! But no NSFW

-a minor is running this account so please do keep that in mind :>

-HCs ofc will be applied

-be respectful, use common sense and don’t be rude

-have fun! Mess around or be as serious as you’d like! BLOG/AU TIMELINE + INFO

Takes place during volume 4

Evelin is 19 while Sarah is 20 (all shown/implied in the series)

Sarah has two jobs and owns a small house (good for her)

Evelin lives in a small apartment

Sarah has a bad relationship with her parents, they are divorced

Evelin has average parents they just encouraged her to move out as soon as she could.

Other HCs will be revealed once they are asked

TAGS

#SarahAndEvelinAsks and #SarahAndEvelinAnswers

anything out of Character will be tagged #out of character.

ART CREDITS

the sprites are drawn and animated by me with slight guidance from @thepowerofyes and adjustments for expressions by @thequasarwinds

🌲🍏“Like- the most unsuspecting middle aged man”🍏🌲

[emotelizardrambling]

Idea started after reading this post

I love their take, but I thought it would be even more interesting if SugarBoo was close friends with one boy and actually had a bit of a grudge or a more frenemies relationship with the other.

So here is what I came up with so far:

I have a vastly over complicated backstory for my BitterSweet OC, but I am trying to stick to what is relevant. Fair warning, though, It is still pretty long.

SB's mom ran away with them, from their wealthy (but emotionally abusive) father, when they were about 4 or 5. The two ended up in the town where BitterSweet takes place.

SB immediately hit it off with Seth. The two became best friends and were practically joined at the hip for the next 9(ish) years. There was only one major thing they ever seemed to disagree on. Alphonse.

At first, the trio got along alright even if SB was sometimes pretty overwhelmed by Alphonse's energy. As Seth grew closer to Al, however, SB started to realize they were jealous. They tried to just distance themself from the two a little, but Al decided he liked SB right away and would not leave SB alone.

When they started trying to ignore him, he did what way too many little boys do when their first crush doesn't pay attention to them. He started teasing them.

[Note: I can't really see Alphonse becoming a real bully to SB. I could see him teasing them about little things just to get them riled up, though, and I can imagine that, occasionally, a young Al might go a little too far and actually hurt SB's feelings. At which point Seth would tell him off, and Al would do something cute to apologize, and the two would go back to their strange little rivalry.]

By middle school you had Seth with a huge crush on Al but confused as to why he and SB can't seem to get along, SB with a huge crush on Seth but knowing he has a crush on Al who is kindof an ass to them, and Al who had a huge crush on SB but is stuck squarely in the frenemy zone.

Before that mess can be sorted out, though, SB's father found them and their mother and allowed (forced) them to come back to him.

Al and Seth had no idea what happened for months until SB managed send them a letter (through Al's parents) explaining how sorry she was that she never got to sag goodbye and that she hadn't wanted to leave. Not wanting her father to find out about Seth (or Alphonse) or for their friends to see how "Sarah Beth" had to look and behave under their father's thumb, that was the only contact the friends had for a very long time.

After becoming an adult, SB managed to convince (blackmail) their father to leave them alone and made their own way in the world. (With a very solid safety net of hush money.)

They moved to the city, and eventually moved in with a long-term romantic partner, before finally running into Seth again.

Turns out they had been living in the same city for months, but now Seth was just tying up loose ends before he moved back to their hometown to be with Alphonse.

[Note: In this universe, Derek got hit by a truck before ever meeting Seth's mom, and Seth and Al never actually joined the gang. Instead, both worked odd jobs and worked for a long time at a nightclub. Because Seth didn't need to freak out (as much) when Al had to move back to their hometown, the two are still together.]

SB was pretty devastated to hear Al's parents had passed away. SB had always liked the couple, and they always kept Al from poking fun at SB when they were around.

SB and Seth got coffee, caught up, and exchanged contact info. They started regularly texting and chatting online, gradually reforming their long missed friendship.

This would go on for months until Al picked up the shop's landline just before he closed for the night, only to hear SB crying on the other end.

That's where I need to end this post. Sorry about the (sort of) cliffhanger. I actually already wrote a chapter or so of what happens after this, but it needs editing, and all this would kind of be needed for context anyway, so I decided to put it out into the Tumblrverse.

[tlbodine]

Overthinking Goosebumps: Monster Blood

Monster Blood was the 3rd Goosebumps book of the classic original series, released in 1992. It's one of the few books to spawn multiple sequels and repeat appearances, which I suspect is due more to Stine's enjoyment of the concept (and flexibility it affords) than it being a fan favorite. I don't know anyone who cites the Monster Blood books as their favorite. There's probably some MB stans out there -- shout out if you are -- I just haven't encountered them.

As a kid, I didn't love this book. I didn't connect much with the main character, who comes off as a bit of a whiner, and the premise didn't really grip me. I also thought it had one of the more boring covers of the original Tim Jacobus runs, since it's just some slimy stairs. That didn't stop me from having a folder with that art on it, which I actually still have and which contains a bunch of cringeworthy young writings from yours truly.

Weirdly enough I'm enjoying it more as an adult then I did as a kid. Maybe that's just the excitement of nostalgia talking. Or maybe I'm seeing and appreciating some things that didn't register or resonate with me as a kid. As an early entry into the series, Monster Blood is finding its footing in terms of tone and style. The formula had not yet been completely perfected, and I think some of its eccentricities are charming, even as other elements have not aged so well.

First, The Story

Monster Blood opens with a young Evan Ross pleading with his mother not to leave him with his weird, old, deaf Great-Aunt Kathryn. We quickly discover that his parents are in the process of moving for his father's job, and while they buy a house and get settled, Evan and his courageous-but-disobedient old cocker spaniel Trigger need to stay with the only available relative they can find -- his father's aunt, who helped raise her nephew but has been quite eccentric after going suddenly and completely deaf 20 years ago.

Evan's stuck with an old lady he can't communicate with and who's a complete stranger to him. Trigger, his only ally, is banished outside for barking at Kathryn's cat. And there is no TV, radio, Nintendo, or other entertainment in sight, aside from a very odd collection of books on science and...witchcraft?

Luckily, Evan does manage to make a friend in the neighborhood in the form of Andy, a girl who's a pretty solid 12-year-old manic pixie dream girl archetype. Andy is funny and bold and definitely shakes things up. Also on the block are twin bullies Rick and Tony Beymer, who enjoy such fun activities as beating up kids, stealing bikes, and tying up cats. They’re a couple little thugs.

Anyhoo, Andy shows Evan a weird curio/toy shop and Evan spends $2 on a dusty can of Monster Blood. At first, this substance would appear to be your regular everyday type of slime — it glows, it stretches, it squeezes, it oozes, it bounces. But over time it begins to change, growing, expanding, overflowing any container it’s placed in. It becomes warm and sticky to the touch and seems to suck and swallow anything in its path.

Worse, Trigger eats some of it and starts to grow, doubling in size until he’s a spaniel the size of a pony.

Everything eventually comes to a head in a collision with the twins, who attempt to steal the substance only to be subsumed by it as it spreads and grows. Aunt Kathryn steps in to intervene, revealing that she is responsible — she laid a witch’s curse on the monster blood that Evan brought home, presumably causing it to grow.

But it’s soon revealed that Kathryn wasn’t working under her own volition. Instead, she’s at the mercy of none other than her black cat Sarah-Beth who is in fact a witch in disguise and who has been controlling Kathryn’s actions this whole time, even causing her deafness in a bid to isolate her. The monster blood ploy was an attempt by the cat/witch to scare Evan away, or at least punish Kathryn for having a visitor.

Luckily Sarah-Beth doesn’t get a chance to act any further on her scheme before a giant size Trigger bowls her over into the monster blood. She’s absorbed, which presumably undoes the spell. Everyone but her is spit back out unharmed, Trigger shrinks to his usual size, and Kathryn even gets her hearing back just in time to explain everything to Evan’s mom who’s arrived to pick him up.

Happy ever after? You’d think, if you didn’t know there are at least three more monster blood books…

Overthinking It

From a critical perspective, the greatest failure of Monster Blood is its third act reveal. The curse is foreshadowed fairly, but Sarah-Beth’s motivation feels thin and slapped together, and none of it really makes a ton of sense. You live in the house with him. Why curse his toy slime, of all things? Why not just trip him on the stairs or bite him or something? If you’re the one calling the shots, why are you choosing to live as a cat? It reads like an ad hoc explanation on Stine’s part to make sense of two disparate plot threads at once: the mysterious slime, and creepy old Aunt Kathryn.

That said, I feel like we’ve glimpsed the very tip of an iceberg of disturbing backstory between these women. I think there’s ample evidence to suggest Kathryn was already involved in witchcraft. What was her relationship with the human Sarah-Beth? What soured it to the point that a powerful magic wielder is willing to live as an animal while exerting total control over someone, forcing her into complete isolation? That is dark and sadistic and I hope somebody out here has written the lovers to enemies fic that goes with it.

Kathryn’s backstory isn’t the only thing that feels like brushing past a glacier. I’m also deeply side-eyeing Evan’s parents. What we know is they’re having this discussion about moving in private. Their kid has to eavesdrop. Is everybody else they know *really* on vacation or is there something else going on that requires reaching out to an elderly relative you haven’t seen in at least a decade? Is it really easier to buy a house without your kid weighing in, or are you sorting out something messier in your relationship?

And that right there is, I think, the key to the actual horror of Monster Blood. It is above all else a story about lacking agency, and the struggle of having responsibility prematurely thrust upon you.

When we meet Evan, it’s easy to get annoyed with his whining. But his circumstance is terrifying. He’s alone in an unfamiliar place, with a stranger he cannot communicate with and whose ways and habits are alien. He is given no say in what happens in his life - he’s being ripped from a familiar school and friends and doesn’t even get a vote in the new house - and the only way he knows any of this is happening is he’s eavesdropped.

Not only is Evan isolated, he’s also forced into independence. Kathryn seems capable of doing the bare minimum to keep the kid alive, but he’s basically left to his own devices. Moreover, he has a dependent (his dog) in his care.

So what happens? He ends up quite literally over his head in a scenario that is growing too big for him.

There’s a nightmare pretty early in the book that is easy to call out as a fake scare. But it reads so neatly as an anxiety dream that I have had, that I hesitate to condemn it. Indeed, the whole book has a kind of feverish anxiety dream logic to it: I opened this can and now the stuff inside won’t go back in. It’s growing out of control and eating everything. My dog is growing out of control and I don’t know why or how to stop it. I can’t even hold onto his leash anymore.

This is classic stress dream stuff. This is the very personification of a loss of control. Faced with a problem, Evan tries to fix it and it grows beyond his ability to cope, but no one else can really help him. This is true for the overflowing monster blood of course, but equally true for the bullies who badly beat him, or the dog with a mystery ailment and a vet who can’t diagnose the problem.

That’s genuinely harrowing stuff.

There are a couple of solid scares in Monster Blood, but far and away the most horrifying is a scene where Evan, having been gone visiting Andy all day, suddenly remembers he needs to check on the dog penned up outside. He rushes out just in time to find Trigger panting and choking hideously, because he’s grown too big for his collar and it’s digging into his throat. Evan struggles for quite a while to free his dog, and we see every desperate rasp and frothing breath, his eyes rolling back, his legs buckling. It is genuinely scary stuff, both viscerally and in its implication. You’re all alone, Evan. You’re the grownup now, you’re responsible for another life, and if you screw this up nobody will help you…and problems are happening that you can’t even comprehend, much less solve.

No wonder the poor kid has nightmares!

I do feel we should spend a moment acknowledging some of the troubling aspects of Great Aunt Kathryn. I don’t feel qualified to weigh in on what her character means for Deaf representation but I have to assume it’s not great. Her apparent refusal to learn to communicate is hammered home again and again. That it’s magically induced and reversed at the end also feels not-great.

I’m also intrigued by her description as being “large” and “robust” and of having a curiously clear but “deep” voice. I get that this is probably just meant to play against the expected frail old lady archetype (it even gets lampshaded in Evan’s inner monologue) but it’s striking to me.

Or maybe I’m just busily mentally writing that “trans Kathryn and her scorned witchy lover” backstory fic. Somebody stop me before I actually write this damn thing.

If You Liked This, Here Are Other Things to Give You Goosebumps

When you’re a kid, strange old people are scary. They just are. It’s a trope R.L. Stine returns to again, most notably in How to Kill a Monster (which for my money is a better Goosebumps book).

But if that trope appeals to you, you may enjoy M. Night Shyamalan’s 2015 found footage horror, The Visit. Viewer beware, you’re in for naked grandma.

If the idea of mystery substances growing and taking over appeals to you, Stine revisits the idea (in a very different way) with The Blob That Ate Everyone, and of course all the subsequent Monster Blood books.

But I doubt this book would exist if not for 1958's The Blob, where a young Steve McQueen battles an indestructible blob from space. Or, for that matter, the reboots -- 1972's Beware! The Blob (a sequel) and 1988's The Blob (a remake, with a decidedly darker tone).

I'd also recommend The Stuff, a 1985 low-budget cult classic about 80s consumer culture and a mysterious substance that takes over the people who consume it. There's even a memorable sequence with a dog eating some and becoming...uh...different.

That's all from me for now. How about you? Feelings on Monster Blood? Did you ever kind of want some as a kid? Do you ever eyeball a can of slime at the store and think about this story? Come tell me about it.

[fanaticsnail]

I remember you mentioned having a Mihawk playlist, and the way you manage to find songs that perfectly fit the vibes of your fics and enhance the reading experience is one of the things I love about your writing

So I was wondering if you could share some of the songs on your playlist? Or even some songs that you associate with certain characters/tropes/scenarios?

I always love it when you send me asks, @sexc-snail.

I absolutely DO have a Mihawk playlist. I share the playlist construction with another creator on Tumblr who I love, cherish and adore: @sordidmusings. We add to it as we write, recommend songs as they come to us to help with words in works.

I could get into a long, long rant about music so I will add a page break here ❤. Lots of song recs to follow for the OPLA cast so far.

I am a violinist; have been playing for 25 years this year (I AM GETTING OLD, JEEPERS CREEPERS). Music is a great, passionate love affair for me and I adore learning about songs and pieces new and old. Here are some recommendations for songs and vibes I associate with the characters and the tropes.

I never add lyrics to my fics so the readers can visualize their own favourite melodies where they see fit, but I do have tunes in mind when I write them. The only fic I've really centralised a song about is the "You Should Be Sad" Mihawk fic I wrote a while back and the Koby series I'm writing.

Here are some song recommendations: all songs are Spotify linked. Enjoy a peek into my madness.

For the Characters

Luffy:

Long Way Home: Walk off the Earth, Lindsay Stirling

Following the Sun: SUPER-Hi, NEEKA

La Isla Bonita: Madonna

Zoro

Work Song: Hozier

Promise: Voyager

Cold Shot: Stevie Ray Vaughan

Sanji

Love Story: Indila

Know You Girls: Franz Ferdinand

Family Line: Conan Grey

Nami (She gets four, because she's amazing and I love her)

Runaway: Aurora

My Mother Told Me: NATI, Cullen Vance, Jonny Stewart

Outside: Ellie Golding, Calvin Harris

Queen of the Kings: Alessandra

Usopp

Mechanical Instinct: Aviators

The Higher Ground: Red Hot Chili Peppers

Eastside: Benny Blanco, Halsey, Khalid

Buggy

Be Your Shadow: The Wombats

Gasoline: Halsey

I Wanna Be Your Slave: Maneskin

Shanks:

The One that Got Away: The Civil Wars

Atlantis: Seafret

Barton Hollow: The Civil Wars

Mihawk

Seven Nation Army: Postmodern Jukebox

My Heart With You: The Rescues

The Snake: Lana Lubany

Koby (He also gets four, because he deserves only good things, and because Morgan Davies is Aussie like me)

Grieve No More: Patty Gurdy

Siuil A Run: Ella Roberts

Mad World: Jasmine Thompson

Again: Flyleaf

Helmeppo

Fighter: Christina Aguilera

Torn: Natalie Imbruglia

Elastic Heart: Sia

Garp

Sharp Dressed Man: ZZ Top

Under a Violet Moon: Blackmores Night

Billie Jean: The Civil Wars

For the Tropes

Unrequitted Love (My all time favourite thing)

Wrecking Ball: Beth

Can't Help Falling in Love: Tommee Profitt, Brooke

I Found: Amber Run

Comptine d'un autre ete l'apres-midi: Yann Tierson

Derniere Danse: Indila

Only in my Mind: Kenya Grace

Over and Over: Three Days Grace

Broken Pieces: Apocalyptica Lacey

Too Close: Alex Clare

Stupid Heart: Sorana

Enemies to Lovers

FMLYHM: Sether

Closer: NIN

Hella Good: No Doubt

Play With Fire: Sam Tinnesz, Yacht Money

Why'd You Only Ever Call Me When You're High: Arctic Monkeys

For when they give into their feelings:

Surrender: Natalie Taylor

As the World Caves In: Sarah Cothran

Freeze You Out: Marina Kaye

Say Yes To Heaven: Lana Del Rey

For when they give up but feelings are still there

Lose you to love me: Selena Gomez

Liar: Camilla Cabello

Darkside: Alan Walker

Say My Name: David Guetta, Bebe Rexha, J Balvin

Only Love Can Hurt Like This: Paloma Faith

I See Red: Everybody Loves an Outlaw

If you made it this far, thank you. This was a labour of love. Happy listening ❤