#sleepless in Denver

[guess-my-next-obsession]

endure & survive | i. endure & survive

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x single mother!reader

chapter content: MINORS DNI, written in dual POV/first person POV, no description/name given to reader, reader is a single mother, age gap (twenty-ish years), grief, gun talk/threats

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist | next chapter

READER

Everything was brutal in the wild open land that used to be this country before the world as we knew it crumbled before us. 

I’d spent fifteen years in the Denver QZ before I’d had enough. Food was scarce and often tainted with mold, animal droppings, or just plain inedible. Hunting and growing food wasn’t an option either, not in the crowded, dilapidated, concrete confinements of the QZ. The powers above tended to hoard all of the fresh shit to themselves anyways and hand out the scraps as if it was a blessing rather than a betrayal of the system they were put in place to uphold. But when you’re starving, even scraps and trash become appetizing. Sickening, most often, but appetizing nonetheless. Luxuries like new clothes, fresh sheets, a decent pair of shoes, and a place to take a warm shower were non-existent. All we had was all we had. You either made do, or you took from someone else. Someone dead, or someone you planned on killing. People like me--people who couldn’t stomach the violence against my neighbors as easily as some of us--chose to just make do.

It was a miracle that I made it out of the QZ alive. 

It was even more miraculous that I’d been able to survive out here in the open for as long as I had. 

Eight years, to be exact. But I hadn’t been alone for all of it. 

I used to have a partner, someone willing to brave the unknown and dangerous at my side, until a nasty bout of pneumonia we couldn’t treat took him from me. Kit and I were as close to married as two people could be in this post-apocalyptic world, and we’d made it longer than most people did outside the supposedly safe walls of the QZ. Together, we rebuilt the dilapidated cabin nestled somewhere in Wyoming that I still call home and built a secure perimeter, shielded by thick evergreens and overgrowth. He was with me for a little under two years out here, but even though he’s gone now, a piece of him remains with me. 

Our son. 

As I lay on the threadbare mattress tucked in the corner of the open cabin and count each of Colt’s breaths, I feel a familiar pang of longing and grief. Longing for his father. Grief that he’ll never get to meet him. 

He’s six now. Just entered that stage of troublemaker and explorer and everything that would stress out any parent in a normal world. But in this world—a world where one slip up could mean the end, or worse—it’s more than stress I feel. I’m terrified. 

It’s been months since anyone has gotten close to our safe haven, and even longer since I’ve come across an infected, but the threat is always there. When Colt was younger, it was easier to manage the thought of having to pull that trigger when someone—or something—got too close. But now I worry about what it’ll do to him to have to watch me kill in order to protect us. I worry it’ll change him, mark him for a dark and violent future he should have never had to chance. 

But I’ll do what I have to do in order to keep him alive. 

I’ll trek across the entire country, chart a boat and sail to new worlds, kill and fight and give my life if it means he has the chance to live his. 

For now, though, he’s safe and sound asleep in my arms, soothed by the rise and fall of my chest as I prepare for another sleepless night. 

JOEL

The mileage is wearing on me. I know it. The pain in the ass teenager besides me sure as hell knows it, if her snarky comments about needing to find me a cane or a walker are anything to go by. 

My boots have seen better days, but it’s been that way for years now. Usually, I’d have found some way to snag a newer, less worn pair off a dead man or tucked away inside some crumbling building, but I haven’t been able to take as many chances with Ellie with me. 

We’ve already had enough encounters with danger between Boston and wherever the fuck we are now. Clickers, tyrants, and more death than either of us would like. Kansas City alone was almost enough to take both of us out. I have no desire to test our luck all for the sake of warmer feet. Besides, Ellie’s shoes are alright. No holes, no soles coming apart. If she’s good, I’ll find a way to manage. 

But there’s no denying the limp in my walk, no matter how hard I try to hide it. It’s cold as hell out here in the woods, and at my age, with my past injuries, it’s taking a toll on me. My joints scream with every step, my back aches like it’s on fire, and that’s only the physical. 

My mind is feeling the wear and tear of this journey more than I��d like to admit. I’m panicky and exhausted and paranoid as all hell, and I can’t be any of that if I want to keep us safe. 

The kid’s gotten pretty good with a gun, but given our limited ammo supply, she hasn’t gotten as much practice as either of us would like. But at least I know if it comes down to it, she’ll know what to do. I cling to the hope that she’ll never have to put that knowledge into practice, but I know better than that. She’s already had to bail my ass out more times than I’d like. 

“I can see steam coming out of your ears with all that thinking, old man,” she says as she sits across from me at the campsite we’ve claimed for the night. There’s a fire crackling between us, big enough to ward off some of this icy chill but small enough not to bring too much attention. “Whatcha thinking about?”

I heave a sigh that has little to do with her and everything to do with the fact that I’m thinking about too fuckin’ much these days. 

Safety. 

Food. 

Warmth. 

Sarah. 

“Thinkin’ how much longer I’m gonna have to put up with this twenty questions shit you like to play,” I say instead of the truth. It’s easier if she doesn’t know what’s going on in my head. She’s just a kid, whether she sees it that way or not. She doesn’t need to add my shit onto her plate. 

“Well, we’re like…what? Only a few hundred miles away from Salt Lake now?” she asks, tracing her finger over the map on her lap. “All goes well, me and my charming commentary will be out of your hair in a few weeks.” 

Doubtful, but I don’t voice that thought. I still don’t have much faith in anything related to those goddamn Fireflies, but a plan is a plan. Tess made me swear to see this thing through with Ellie, and as much as I hate the fuckers, they’re still the only people that might be able to point me in the direction of Tommy. 

“What kind of music did you listen to back in the day?” Ellie asks as she folds her map back up and into her backpack, seemingly content to move onto another subject. “Wait—no, let me guess. Something old and boring like the Beatles.”

I scoff out of amusement. “First off, the Beatles aren’t boring. But no. More of a country music guy, myself. Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Marty Robbins. That kinda thing.”

She shrugs. “Never heard of ‘em.”

“They were before your time,” I say, shifting my legs so that they lay outstretched along the thin blanket I’ve got beneath me to keep the snow from dampening my clothes. “Before my time, truth be told.”

“So you just like old shit, then,” she says, and I shoot her an unamused look. 

“Y’know, it’s been about twenty years since we’ve had any new shit come out, so anything you like listenin’ to is pretty damn old, too,” I reply before tacking on, “Smartass.”

“How old’s Nirvana?”

“90’s.”

“Pearl Jam?”

“90’s.”

“Shit. What about Metallica?”

“Jesus, that’s what you like listenin’ to?” I ask, shaking my head. “No wonder you act like that.”

“Like what? Totally fucking cool and wise beyond my years?”

“Was gonna say feral, but yeah, sure,” I say, fighting a chuckle. 

Despite the exhaustion, despite the fact that I’d long since forgotten how to laugh, this kid almost brings it out of me. She’s the total opposite of Sarah, and yet I can’t help but think the two of them would get along like peas in a pod. After all, their favorite pastime is the same—busting my balls. 

“Y’should get some sleep,” I say, ending her game of twenty questions before she talks me to sleep. “Sun’s gonna be up in a few hours, and we need to get a move on. Storm’s comin’ in soon, and last thing we need is to get stuck out here in it.”

“A little breaking and entering in the books tomorrow, then?” 

“If we can manage it,” I reply with a sigh, watching her as she rolls onto her side and stuffs her backpack beneath her head like sleeping out here in the wet snow is completely normal and not fuckin’ miserable. “Y’need an extra blanket over there?”

“No, mother,” she sighs. “Youth keeps me warm. Too bad those days are long behind you now.”

I roll my eyes and look up at the dark sky, counting stars to keep myself from chuckling. “Shut up and go to sleep, then.”

READER

A crunch outside wakes me from my sleep. I’m a light sleeper at best these days, a raging insomniac at worst, but that’s what’s kept us alive this long. My ears have trained themselves to detect even the slightest of unusual noises around the cabin. Even in my sleep, I’m able to distinguish the sound of an animal crossing our land from an intruder—or worse. 

Thankfully, this doesn’t sound like an infected or a clicker. I don’t have the mental or physical energy right now to deal with a rabid creature, for lack of a better word. 

I shift my weight carefully so as to not disturb Colt as he sleeps beside me, and climb out of our bed. My boots and clothes are still on, as are his—you never know when it’s going to be time to run, and the few minutes it takes to get ready might mean the difference between staying alive and becoming a monster. Grabbing the shotgun I keep beside the bed, I carefully step across the wooden floorboards of the cabin, avoiding the loose ones I know creak under even the slightest bit of weight. I don’t need Colt waking up and asking questions. Not when I don’t know who’s waiting outside. 

All of the windows are boarded up, save for a few peepholes I intentionally left for moments exactly like these. I’d be an idiot to swing my door open without getting a peek at what waits for me on the other side, shotgun or not. Sticking my eye up to the sliver in the old wooden boards, I scan the front of the property, taking in the thick blanket of snow covering the ground and looking for footprints marring its surface. When I find none in the front of the property, I move to the window on the side of the cabin, searching there, too. 

And that’s when I see our intruder. 

A man--older than me by a decade or two--carefully scans the clearing around the cabin, no doubt searching for traps. He’s lucky he’s managed to get this far without running into any. That, or he’s simply done this enough to know exactly what to look out for. 

When he nears the side of the cabin, only a few feet from the window I’m pressed up against, I force my breath to steady and carefully move back to the front door with my shotgun cocked and in hand. I don’t give him time to find his way up the steps of the front porch--that would be too close to Colt for comfort. Instead, I slowly, silently, open the door and step out into the icy cold. Tiptoeing across the snow-damp wood, I round the corner and lift my shotgun just like Kit had taught me all those years ago, aiming directly for my intruder’s head before issuing a single, clear warning. 

“You’ve got five seconds to turn around and forget you ever saw this place before I shoot your fucking head off.”

[phoebe-delia]

let me always be with you

Based on "Annie's Song" by John Denver. This song holds a lot of childhood nostalgia for me, and while I tried to stay true to the romance, I hope you feel the same tenderness reading this fic that I do when I listen to this song.

Draco rises easily and early these days. Long gone are the nights when the moon was his sun, and the daytime was slept away behind blackout curtains and a silk eye mask. Now, his body pulls him toward rest not long after the sun has set, and it brings him into the dawn with enough time to appreciate the pinkening sky over a cup of Earl Grey.

Harry is a heavier sleeper. Draco used to tease him about it a little before Harry confided in him about sleepless nights spent in a cramped, dark cupboard; after that, Draco stopped setting an alarm on the weekends and held Harry a little tighter when they went to bed each night.

Draco's favorite morning pastime, on days when he swears the sun rises a little slower, is to watch Harry sleep. To see him take his rest. Harry looks younger when he sleeps, despite the slight gray at his temples and his deepening laugh lines. Draco likes to think they're aging backward as well as forward; making up for lost time.

When Draco has stared his fill, he settles back into bed. Harry's arms reach for him, wanting Draco close even in his subconscious state, and it never fails to hit Draco's heart with a pang of tenderness.

Draco burrows his head against Harry's chest, letting that hard-earned, steady heartbeat lull him back to sleep. Outside, the sky invites a little more light to creep through the clouds.

[cyborgdumptruck]

I brought you SamuRaiden meme.

The image can be kinda related to my fic Sleepless in Denver.

Original image:

[elliesappetite]

Doctor Williams is in the house (Inspired by Grey's Anatomy) - Prologue

FREE PALESTINE

Doctor Ellie Williams x surgical intern reader

Rating: 17+ (Age Gap - Ellie is 38, Reader is 28)

Summary: you slept with Ellie Williams after a night out. You're a surgical intern, what could possibly go wrong? (Doctor AU)

a/n: hello!! it's been a while but i've been so busy that i just haven't had time to sit down and write! But i'm here now! Also i'm no doctor so there will be inaccuracies but i'm trying to make it accurate!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

The game. They say either a person has what it takes to play, or they don't. My mother was one of the greats. Me, on the other hand...I'm kinda screwed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

It feels like just yesterday when you were buried under a mountain of textbooks, your nights filled with tears and sleeplessness, all in pursuit of passing the board certification exam. All those gruelling hours have finally paid off.

Now, here you are at the bar, surrounded by your old friends Jess, Micah, and Lily, celebrating your new role as a surgical intern at St. David’s North Austin Medical Center in Austin, Texas.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually a surgeon!” Micah exclaims with a grin, giving you a playful punch on the arm. You chuckle, shaking your head. “And I can’t believe you’re back from the big city of Seattle, man we missed you.” Jess adds, you give her a smile in return.

“I’m not a surgeon yet, just a surgical intern. I still have a year to go before I’m official,” you correct Micah as the man just shrugs. “Still, that’s really impressive. I don’t think I could ever be a surgeon.”

“Yeah, because you’re not exactly known for your brains, Micah,” Lily teases, taking a sip of her beer. “She’s smarter than all of us put together.”

“I’m not that dumb,” Micah protests, but his voice trails off as Jess speaks up.

“You know what we should do? We should get you laid.” Jess’s suggestion raises an eyebrow. “And why should I do that?” you ask, nursing your half-finished vodka-cranberry.

“You haven’t been with anyone since Esther dumped you for that guy, what was his name? Denver?” Jess teases. “Dallas,” you correct her with a raised eyebrow. “Right, Dallas. Who does that?”

Rolling your eyes, you watch Lily chime in, “I think I need to find someone too. Ever since the whole mess with my parents, I definitely need to get out there.” She starts scanning the bar for potential matches.

As the trio continues their banter, you let your gaze wander around the room. Among the diverse crowd, your eyes settle on a striking woman sitting alone at the bar. Her beauty is captivating, as well as wanting to sit on her face-  as she looks back from the cricket game on the TV, her eyes meet yours.

She gestures for you to join her, patting the seat next to her. With a quick excuse to your friends, you make your way over and sit beside her, immediately drawn to the intoxicating scent of her cologne.

“Howdy,” she says, her voice low and inviting.

“Hi there,” you respond, enchanted by her slight southern accent.

“I noticed you with your friends,” she leans forward, resting her elbows on the bar.

“Oh, yeah?” you lean closer. “Yeah.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I didn’t want to interrupt a pretty girl like you while you were with your friends.” You blush at the compliment. “Pretty girl,” she called you.

The conversation flows effortlessly, and before you know it, you’re completely absorbed in her presence, losing track of time.

“How about you come back with me?” you ask, your newfound confidence perhaps fueled by the alcohol or just by her allure.

She finishes her drink, places a twenty-dollar bill on the bar for both of your tabs, and smiles. “Sure, pretty girl, lead the way.”

You both stand up, grabbing your things and heading toward the exit. As you glance back, your friends give you thumbs up, and Micah winks at you.

The night unfolds in a blur of excitement. You barely remember getting to your place, but the passionate encounter you shared is etched vividly in your mind—it was nothing short of heavenly.

If only you knew what the future would hold.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

You wake up on the couch and pull a blanket off the half-naked woman on the floor, wrapping it around yourself. As you glance at her sleeping form, you nudge her with a pillow, causing her to grunt and stir. She lifts up your bra, confused.

“This…is…?” she mumbles.

You grab it with a sarcastic smile. “Humiliating on so many levels. You have to go.”

Sitting up and adjusting her crooked sports bra, she flirts, “Why don’t you just come back down here, and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

You scoff softly and head toward the kitchen. “No, seriously. You have to go. I’m late, which is definitely not how you want to start your first day of work, so…”

The woman looks around, puzzled. “So, ah, you actually live here?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh.”

You sigh, pouring yourself a coffee. “Yes. Kind of.”

She dresses in the clothes from last night. “Oh. It’s nice. A bit dusty. Odd, but nice. So how do you kind of live here?”

You walk past her, retrieving your underwear and bra. “I moved here two weeks ago from Seattle. It was my mother’s house. I’m selling it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

You turn, confused. “For what?”

“You said ‘was.’”

You shake your head. “My mother’s not dead. She’s— You know what, we don’t have to do the whole thing.”

She crosses her arms with a smirk. “Oh. We can do anything you want—”

“No,” you cut her off. “Not the thing. No exchanging details or pretending to care. Look, I’m going upstairs to shower. When I come back down, you won’t be here, so, um, goodbye…um…”

You realize you don’t know her name.

“Ellie,” she replies. You shake her hand. “Ellie. Right.” You introduce yourself, and she repeats your name.

“Nice name,” Ellie says. “Yeah. Thanks.” Ellie moves closer, and you back away. “Mm-hmm.”

“Nice meeting you, pretty girl.” “Bye, Ellie.” You smile and flee for the stairs.

Ellie stands there, watching your retreating figure, wondering what she’s gotten herself into.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The hospital looms large and intimidating. You used to know every corner of this place when your mother, now retired, was a doctor here.

Now, it’s your turn to fill those big shoes.

You slip into a room full of other interns—some nervous, some confident. It feels like stepping into a lion’s den. As you take it all in, you hear a voice. Dr. Isaac Dixon.

"Each of you comes here with hope, eager to join the game. Just a month ago, you were in med school, learning from doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as surgical residents will be both the best and the worst of your lives. You will be pushed to your limits. Look around. Say hello to your competition."

The interns exchange glances, sizing up the others who are all here to fight for the same goal.

"Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Like I said. I’m screwed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

[shadowland]

gram parsons & emmylou harris

In mid-February 1973 Gram, Emmylou and Phil Kaufman visit the KBPI-FM studios on Morrison Road in Denver. / Tour rehearsals, Feb 1973 by Kim Gottlieb / We'll Sweep Out The Ashes In The Morning by Gram Parsons ft. Emmylou Harris / Gram Parsons & The Fallen Angels Liberty Hall in Houston, Texas (1973) / Gram Parsons: Fallen Angel (2004) / Emmylou Harris Star Billing at Max's / Love Hurts cd + lyrics / Dwight Yoakam / Gram Parsons by Ed Caraeff in 1969 / Joshua Tree / Emmylou Harris from The Guardian (2018) / A Song For You by Gram Parsons / Boulder to Birmingham by Emmylou Harris / Gram and Emmylou sitting on Phil Kaufman’s Harley, with a Sin City jacket hanging off the kicker by Ginny Winn (1973) / Almost Famous (2000) dir. Cameron Crowe, Pete Droge and Elaine Summers / To Know Him Is To Love Him by Trio, originally written by Phil Spector. / Linda Ronstadt in the Trio Documentary / Emmylou Harris 'Pieces of The Sky' (1975) / The intended cover for 'Sleepless Nights' by Ginny Winn, featured in Rolling Stone Magazine (1974) + lyrics / Poster for Liberty Hall in Houston, Texas (1973) / Emmylou Harris clipping, unknown

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Friendly Sex - Chapter 9 - The Calm

We're back baby! Chapter 10 will definitely be up at some point this week but I'm not going to put a time limit on it in case I get bogged down with life etc. Thank you once again to everyone who has liked, reblogged, commented, and messaged you are all actual 'sweethearts'.

Chapter warnings: MDI (18+ only), explicit language, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, over use of pet names, sex without a condom (reader is on the pill), creampie.

_______________________________________________

Your dad picks you up from Indianapolis Airport just after 6am the following morning, holding you tightly for a good 20 minutes before you both could pull yourselves together, and get back on the road. 

“I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye to the twins.” You mumble tearfully, forehead resting against the passenger window.

“That’s not your fault sprout. That goddamn Philip, if I'd have been there I'd have laid his ass out.” Your dad seethes, and you can't help but smile, your dad is a good ten years older than Philip, slightly overweight with a heart condition, but you’d still bet money on him. “First thing I’m going to do when we get home is call your mother and give her a piece of my mind.”

“Dad, it’s not worth it.” You say tiredly. “She’s made her choice, and it’s not me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick you a better person to be your mom, kiddo.” He sighs sadly, patting you on the cheek.

You drift off for a while, the gentle rocking of the car soothing along with the quiet radio, it's not until you're 20 minutes outside of town that you wake up properly, stretching as best you can in the cramped car. Your dad is whistling quietly along to John Denver, as you pass the sign for Forest Hills Trailer Park, you wonder what Eddie is up to, thinking about how he talked you down last night.

You told him you missed him, it was a brutally honest moment, never expecting him to return the sentiment. You supposed it was natural to miss someone when you had spent just over a month with them, but you knew it ran deeper than that, you could have called anyone last night but you needed Eddie.

You finally pull onto the drive, the weight of yesterday feeling stronger again, you’re exhausted from all the tears, the pain of your mother’s rejection, the sleepless night in the airport.

Your dad takes your bag out of the trunk, unlocking the door, you toe off your sneakers and notice a fishing rod and tackle box to the side, suddenly remembering your Dad’s plans for the long weekend; fishing at Patoka Lake with his buddies.

“Oh Dad, I'm sorry, you were supposed to be on your fishing trip!" You cry feeling awful.

"Hey, don't worry about it sprout, there'll be plenty of other trips over the summer." He reasons, dumping your bag down. "Besides, you're more important right now."

"But you've been looking forward to it for months. Why don’t you call Dale? You can still make it up there. I’ll be ok on my own.” You say earnestly,

“I dunno kiddo.” He says scratching his head. “You being on your own after last night doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Well how about I call Robin? See if she wants to stay over?” Knowing damn well Robin wouldn’t be the person you were going to actually call. You could see the turmoil in your Dad’s eyes, you sigh hugging him round the middle.

“Dad please go fishing, I just need a girl’s night, ice cream, crying, watching Grease.” That did it, and you couldn’t help but smile as he tensed in your hold, your dad hated Grease.

“You sure sprout?” He asks, hands practically itching for the fishing pole.

“Positive.”

____________________________________________________

You do feel a small twinge of guilt at your white lie as you wave your dad off, but it quickly evaporates into a strange sense of excitement and anticipation at the idea of having Eddie in your house. You rush to the phone in the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter as you listen to the rings, cord twirled tight about your hand.

“Hello?” A gruff much older voice than Eddie’s answers, this must be the illusive Wayne, or rather the Wayne you’ve been tactically avoiding.

“Oh - uh - hi Mr Munson, my name is Y/n, I’m a - friend of Eddie’s, is he around?” You don’t know why you’re stammering so much, although it might be because the inappropriate part of your brain is screaming ‘Hi Mr Munson, I’m booty calling your nephew, also we’ve banged on your couch - sorry.’

“You wanna speak to Eddie and you’re a girl?” He asks, sounding surprised and it throws you for a loop.

“Um - last time I checked, yes Sir.” You mumble, laughing awkwardly.

“You’re a girl and you’re calling for Eddie?” He clarifies again. “Alright - he’s outside, let me get him.”

The line goes silent for a moment but then you can hear Wayne call something out and Eddie’s voice getting closer.

“- jeez Wayne, why you gotta be so - Sweetheart?” He’s out of breath.

“Hi.” You say simply.

“You ok? You home? Are you safe?” He asks rapidly and you wonder if he’s been worrying about you all night, it made your heart do a funny flip.

“I’m fine Ed’s, I crashed at the airport and caught a flight out just before 4am, I got home about an hour ago.” You reassure him, hearing him exhale heavily.

“You had me so scared last night.” He mutters.

“Yeah, it was intense.” You agree, wiping your clammy palms on your jeans, now feeling nervous. “So, uh I was wondering and you can say no, but my dad has gone fishing for the weekend, did you maybe wanna come over and -” 

“- yes.” Eddie jumps in before you can finish. “Uh, sorry, yeah I’d love to come over, if that’s cool?”

“Yeah it’s cool.” You say smiling, swinging your legs slightly against the counter.

“What time do you want me?” He asks. A loaded question.

Whilst your urge to see Eddie is strong you look like shit, desperately needing to sleep, shower and get groceries.

“Dinnertime? Does six work?”

“It works, see you then princess.”

___________________________________________________

You had briefly called Robin in between your nap and going to the store, filling her in on the events in Chicago, and that Eddie was coming round for the evening. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who went through some shit last night.

“-come again?” You ask, ears ringing slightly.

“Steve and Nancy had a big fight yesterday.” She sighs, and you can hear her pacing in the background.

“What about?” You ask, biting at your thumb.

“He didn’t really say, well more he wasn’t in a fit state to say, he was hammered by

the time I got to him. But if I deciphered his slurs correctly, Nancy had booked plane tickets to go and see Jonathon next weekend without telling Steve.”

“Shit.” You breathe, sitting down on your bed. “I mean maybe she just forgot to tell him?” You offer weakly.

“Doubtful. Either way it sounds like they both said some pretty hurtful things to each other, I think they might be on a break.” She says seriously.

You felt dizzy, you had left Hawkins for all of 24 hours, everything was bright and breezy, you came back and Steve and Nancy are on a break?

“So, Eddie was a lifeline yesterday huh?” She asks, snapping you back to the present.

“Yeah.” You say quietly, mind reeling. “He was really sweet.”

“What’s your plan for tonight?”

“Uh, spaghetti.” You mumble, shaking your head slightly to clear Steve’s image from your head.

“- and?” She presses.

“And spaghetti, Rob.” You laugh wryly.

“Well, whatever you crazy kids are calling it, be safe!” Robin teases, and you flush.

“Ok, bye, Robin, hanging up now!”

“No - wait! Call me tomor-” You put the phone down, running your hand across your face, Steve could be single. Could be, but his track record said otherwise, and his voice from last month was clear as a bell ‘-me and Nance, we always find our way back to each other. I can be myself around her, you know? No bullshit, it’s easy.’ 

“It’s a blip.” You mutter aloud. “Not worth thinking about.”

_______________________________________________________

You should have ordered pizza, good god why didn’t you just order pizza?! You had to go to three different grocery stores in order to get everything you needed for Bolognese, which took up an extra hour of your time. The tried and trusted recipe of your Nana’s inexplicably failing you after 9 years of flawless service, maybe she didn’t approve of your dinner guest. The pasta had clumped together in the water, leaving a stodgy mass, the sauce was weirdly acidic and salty having caught on the hob, and you’d slopped red wine down your white t-shirt when the cork shot out. At this rate the garlic bread would be the only thing edible.

Ding-dong.  The doorbell sounded more akin to a death knell.

You glance at yourself in the hallway mirror as you run for the door and groan, your hair frizzy from the cooking steam, face flushed, the large wine stain looking like you’d thrown up blood.

So why, when you open the door, is Eddie looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen?

“Hi.” He grins, leaning against the porch, he’s trying to affect a pose of nonchalance but you notice his left leg is bouncing slightly.

“Hi.” You say breathlessly, attempting to smooth down your hair. “Where’s your van?” You ask, peering past him to the empty driveway.

“Oh, I parked it up at Gareth’s, didn’t want your neighbours to give you a hard time, tell your dad or something.” He answers sheepishly.

“You didn’t have to, Mrs Roberts is blind as a bat.” You laugh, thumbing to the house on your right. “You wanna come in?” You ask, awkwardly jumping to one side, realizing you’re barring the doorway.

“Thanks.”

You watch him take in the lower part of the house from the hall, consciously slipping his battered Reeboks off onto the doormat, hanging his jacket up carefully on the coat hook.

“Nice place.” He says, smiling widely as he looks at a picture of you on the wall, taken when you were in kindergarten, bright yellow dress and bows in your pigtails to match. “Very cute.”

“Shut up.” You laugh, shoving him lightly, he catches your arm and brings you in for a bone breaking hug. You wrap your arms about him instinctively, his head pressing to the top of yours, rocking you slightly.

A lot of unsaid things pass through, it's a hug of comfort about what happened with your mom, it’s a hug of missing each other, it’s a hug that’s needed by both parties and you find yourself burrowing a little closer. He pulls back after a minute or so to look at you properly.

“You good?” He asks gently, thumbs rubbing across your cheeks.

“'M good.” You mumble, smiling softly. He leans down to kiss you when he stops just shy of your lips, to sniff the air.

“Do I smell burning?”

“SHIT!” You shout, pelting towards the kitchen, smoke billowing from the oven. You grab some mitts, and extract a heavily cremated loaf of garlic bread, coughing as you heave it into the sink.

“Aw honey, you baked.” Eddie croons, wrapping his arms about your waist from behind, you can feel his chest vibrating with barely held in chuckles.

“It’s a disaster.” You whine, leaning back into his embrace.

“What was it supposed to be?” He asks gingerly, lifting a saucepan lid to examine the spaghetti log.

“Spaghetti Bolognese.” You sigh.

“Well, points for effort princess.” He laughs openly, spinning you in his arms. “Do you have ramen noodles?”

You grab two packets of ramen from the pantry as Eddie pulls on an apron with a flourish tasting the sauce, wincing slightly. “You got any sugar?” He asks.

You dutifully pass him the sugar bag, watching as he eyeballs a small amount of sugar into the pan.

“My old man is a shitty person but he always knew how to make a mean pasta sauce.” He notices your curious expression, holding the spoon out to you, the sugar has managed to balance out the acidity and salt. 

“Salvageable.” You nod impressed.

Eddie dumps the dead spaghetti into the sink on top of the still smouldering bread, putting fresh water into the pan along with the ramen noodles as you pour the rest of the wine, handing him a glass.

“It’s supposed to have tasting notes of cherries, chocolate and cinnamon.” You read off the bottle label, sniffing yours.

“Tastes -” He takes a healthy gulp “-like wine, so - fucking gross.”

 You laugh, passing him the colander for the noodles, and grabbing some pasta bowls and cutlery.

It’s a sickeningly domesticated scene, the two of you sat at the breakfast bar, knee to knee, slurping away at the strange dish.

“Well sweetheart, we’ve managed to insult two great nations at the same time, cheers to Japan and Italy.” He grins lifting his glass of wine in a toast.

“Or we’ve created some kind of new fusion that will take the world by storm and we’ll be rich.” You counter argue.

“Oh yeah, this is some Michelin Man shit right here.” He says, taking another huge forkful.

“Michelin star.” You correct, laughing, feeling lighter than you have in hours.

You wash up the dishes together, Eddie constantly finding excuses to touch you, until you flick dishwater at him.

“Ah, now princess, play nice.” He warns, wiping his sudsy face with a smirk, pinching your side. You cup a large handful of bubbles, advancing on him menacingly.

“You wouldn’t.” He challenges, eyes narrowing.

“Try me Munson.” You dare.

“Truce?” He asks carefully, hands raised in peace.

You nod, letting him get close again before shoving your wet hand up his back.

“Oh you’ve done it now.” He laughs loudly, grabbing the dish cloth aiming a whip towards your ass.

“Eddie no!” You screech, rounding the breakfast bar, chucking an orange at his head.

“It’s war Y/n!” He yells, chasing you, you race out of the kitchen pounding up the stairs to your room, giggling wildly, you’re just in the door when he seizes you about the waist, lifting you off the floor.

“Ed’s put me down!” You gasp, laughing so hard it hurts your ribs.

He pretends to suplex you into the bed, but he’s gentle as he lowers you, protecting your head from the bounce hovering above you.

“Do you submit?” He asks breathlessly, hair mussed up, t-shirt slightly wet.

“Never.” You say defiantly, the effect somewhat lost as you trace your hands up his arms.

He presses his lips to yours, the last of your breath leaving you in a pleased gasp as he deepens the kiss, hands stroking idly up your slides and across your stomach.

“Missed you sweetheart.” He murmurs against your lips, your heart pounding like you’ve run up the stairs again. 

“Missed you too.” You mumble quietly, fingers scratching gently through his hair. “Wasn’t gone for that long though.” You remind him.

“Doesn’t matter, you weren’t close by, I didn’t like it.” He says, brown eyes staring intensely into yours, your mouth feels dry, filled with a jumble of words that don’t quite make it out. You settle for bringing him in for another kiss. Time seems to stand still, as you both lay there, absorbed in each other’s mouths, hands wandering, squeezing, stroking, until he suddenly stops a confused expression on his face.

“Ed’s?” You whisper, chest heaving.

“Who - do we have here?” He asks with a smirk, you feel your eyes widen in embarrassment as he extracts your childhood teddy bear from under your back, having forgotten to put him in the closet earlier. “This is a very respectable looking teddy bear princess, does he have a name?” He teases, making the bear wave.

You glare at him, making a snatch for it.

“His name is Bearington Bear the Third and he’s very old, so gimmie.” You pout, blushing.

“Bearington Bear the Third?” Eddie repeats with unbridled joy. “That is one hell of a name.” He laughs but relents in passing you the bear which you quickly kiss before unceremoniously throwing it across the room.

“That is no way to treat an elderly person.” Eddie gasps scandalized, you’re about to punch him when your phone rings making you jump, you roll away quickly grabbing the receiver.

  “Hello?”

“Hey kiddo, just thought I’d check in.” Your dad says, sounding very cheerful.

“Hey Dad, yeah everything’s all good here.” You say, trying to ignore Eddie who has decided to place kiss after kiss to the side of your neck. “Uh- how’s the fish?” You ask, elbowing him away but it just spurs him on, nipping at the soft skin.

“They’re biting pretty good, got a couple cooking up now. Gordon and Dale say hello.” You snag your lip on your teeth, as Eddie sucks on a particularly sensitive spot, attempting to lean away from his touch. “Sprout, you still there?” 

“Yeah I'm here dad, just uh - got distracted by the film.” You mumble shakily, a kiss pressed dangerously close to your mouth.

“That Travolta boy shaking his ass about again?” He asks with a laugh.

“Um - s-something like that.” You stammer, Eddie’s fingers splayed across your naval, threatening to move lower beneath the band of your leggings.

“Alright kiddo, I'll let you get back to it. Have a good night with Robin, love you.”

“Love you too Dad.” You slam the phone down as Eddie slips his fingers into your panties, lightly circling your clit.

“That was fucking mean Eddie.” You gasp, back arching into his chest. 

“Sorry baby, I just couldn’t help myself.” He groans, sinking a finger into your tight heat.

“Fuck.” You whimper, bringing an arm back to curl around his neck.

“This fucking pussy, jesus.” He growls next to your ear, nipping at your lobe, another finger pressing past the wetness gathered between your thighs.

He pulls you backwards so he’s resting against the headboard, your back pressed to his chest, legs cradling you as he pumps in and out, turning his head to kiss you, tongue fucking your mouth in the same rhythm. It’s maddening, his free hand cupping your breast, thumbing over the nipple, his hardness rutting against your spine.

“Ed’s.” You whine, hips rolling to meet his movements. 

“Let me get you there baby.” He huffs. “Wanna make you feel good.”

He slips from your cunt to rub rapidly at your swollen clit, the warmth moves slowly from your belly, washing across you in a gentle wave. You mewl into his mouth, Eddie swallowing every sound with his own.

He shifts out from under you, letting you fall back against the pillows, hands pulling at your leggings and panties, hooking your legs over his shoulders, tongue flicking straight at your sensitive bud. It’s like he’s making out with your pussy, wet, sinful, decadent. 

“Oh - god.” You stutter, hands gripping at hair.

“Feel good sweetheart?” He asks needlessly, fingers re-entering your cunt, crooking them to rub against the spongy spot that has you immediately cresting again, hips canting against his mouth.

“Eddie, fuck me please.” You beg.

“Your wish is my command.” He grins, stripping in record time, you pull your wine ruined top off, both of you bare and wanting. Eddie’s face falls suddenly.

“Shit! I forgot to bring condoms.” The poor boy looks devastated and you can’t help but giggle.

“Ed’s c’mere.” You beckon, he does as he’s told, crawling back between your plush thighs. “I���m on the pill, I have been for years.” You soothe, hands running over his back.

“You - you are?” He stammers, ears bright red and burning. “And you don’t mind me -” He trails off looking at you pointedly.  “ - I mean I'm clean, I've had the checks.”

“I’m clean too, and no I don’t mind.” You grin bashfully, he looks like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh holy shit this is hot.” He breathes, cock braced in his hand, sliding through your slick, you nod vigorously, the skin to skin feeling electrified.

He pushes in and you both gasp, you can feel every vein, bump and ridge as he drags along your walls. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so warm.” He moans, head dropping into your neck, kissing at your pulse point.

“Eddie.” Is all you can say like a record stuck on repeat, each thrust and snap intensified, the wet slapping of your bodies meeting in a delicious slide.

“Wanna ride you.” You murmur, sucking on his bottom lip.

“Jesus H Christ you’re gonna kill me.” He groans, rolling you both so you’re on top, you brace your hands on his chest, helping you to bounce, Eddie holds your hips so tightly you can feel bruises blooming and it sends you to dizzying heights.

“Baby, baby, baby.” He chants, grabbing the back of your hair, smashing your lips together, his hips pounding up into you. You rub at your clit, whimpering as the coil winds tighter and tighter.

“You gonna cum sweetheart?” He asks moving faster, and you can only nod, writhing on top as the band snaps.

“Oh god, I can feel you.” He whines, head pressed back as he ruts up harder. “Where - where can I cum princess?” He asks desperately, looking like he’s barely clinging onto sanity.

“Inside. Eddie, please cum inside me.” You cry, nails digging into his shoulders.

Eddie makes a choking noise, the veins in his neck strained tight, strong hands working your slick cunt over him continuously as he pumps into you. It sends you over for a fourth and final time, the warmth of him spilling out and around, both of you clinging to each other like life preservers.

“Sweetheart, I -” You wait for the rest of the sentence, heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears but he just gathers you impossibly tighter, pressing a hard burning kiss to your swollen lips. “ - I have a great time with you.” He breathes fiercely.

“I have a great time with you too, Eds.” You whisper, kissing him back.

Taglist:

@avalon-wolf @mystars123 @lolalanaie @eddiemunsonsgf2@eddieslildarling@bakugouswh0r3@sidthedollface2@81rain@blueberrylemontea-fanfic@winchester-angel@bimbobaggins69@tuskjohnny@fckyeahlames@thecomfortgoth@alanamarie@miarosso@ghosttownwherenoonegoes@somespicystuff@eddiethesexy @unfocused81 @1paire2vans @take-everything-you-can @mynameismothra @kingaa101

[wardowrites]

A sleepless night had done nothing to make Wardo look remotely human.

After finally tossing his phone to the other side of the room so he wouldn’t have to dwell on his conversation with Louis, he’d spent the rest of the night dwelling on his conversation with Louis. 

How they’d managed to get to this point, some weird limbo state, a truce of sorts, Wardo wasn’t really sure. All he’d wanted to do was thank the other man for looking after Ivy when Wardo regrettably hadn’t been there to have her back himself. Then, the conversation had descended into the most painful type of chaos Wardo had ever endured. He’d thought that he’d feel better about lashing out at the man, finally letting Louis know how much he’d hurt Wardo by upping and leaving without a word. Instead, a sick feeling had hit him in the stomach as soon as he’d hit ‘send’ and he’d sat waiting for the man’s snappy rebuff, only for Louis Denver to turn around and call him ‘baby’.

There was other stuff he’d said as well, but that had always been the one word in Louis’ extensive vocabulary that would forever render Wardo silent. It had coaxed out smiles from him before, had prompted him to stop talking mid-rant and completely melt under the touch of the other man and now, apparently, it had the frankly impressive ability to strip away ten years of ugly, irrepressible anger.

Don’t get Wardo wrong, he was still hurt. He still didn’t have any answers. But he was also standing in front of a shop window trying to rub away the dark shadows under his eyes so Louis would think he was somewhat good-looking.

“You’re a fuckin’ loser,” he told his reflection. He tugged at his hair, trying to comb it into submission as if the suggestion that he brushed his hair two times a year now instead of once would be enough to encourage Louis to give him some answers. Wardo, unfortunately, didn’t have high hopes for his complete lack of allure being a selling point.

He stood back, taking in his jeans (the nice ones, without any tears), his white t-shirt and his black bomber jacket. His hair still stuck up in every direction and his bloodshot eyes were a clear indication that he hadn’t slept at all after their conversation, but it wasn’t getting much better than that. 

Reaching Ivy and Raff’s bar, he petulantly waited outside until his watch read 7.01pm, because Louis Denver’s passing moment of vulnerability had not granted him a free pass from Wardo’s pettiness. Swinging the door open, he almost let it swing right back and hit him in the face when he realised Louis was already there, sitting at the bar and talking to Ivy. Catching it just in time, he stepped around it and waited for the other man to see him.

It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d seen Louis since the other man had been in New York, but it was the first time he’d planned to see him. And, you know, talk to him. Every instance before this one had been a horrible coincidence.

“Hey,” he greeted himwhen he eventually crossed the room, standing awkwardly in front of the bar stools, not yet sitting down like some sort of fucking moron. With a sideways glance, he caught Ivy’s eye and made a barely imperceptible face at her, before turning back to Louis, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

[deviloutofluck]

if you’re hearing BLACK SMOKE by ANN SOPHIE playing, you have to know ANASTACIA "NASH" MENDOZA (THEY/THEM; NONBINARY) is near by! the 47 year old BOUNCER AT AMBROSIA LOUNGE has been in denver for, like, 5 MONTHS. they’re known to be quite SECRETIVE, but being PROTECTIVE seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble SARA RAMIREZ. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those WORN OUT LEATHER JACKETS, LATE NIGHT SMOKES AND MUSIC PUMPING FROM THE SPEAKERS AT ANY HOUR vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the DOWNTOWN DISTRICT long enough!

tw: lowkey death mention right at the end

Anastacia (mostly known as Nash) Mendoza is the youngest sibling of two and Felipe's titi (gender neutral word for aunt/uncle in spanish) but has very little contact with their family, dipping in and out of their lives and mainly shows themselves during important occasions. They got branded as the black sheep of the family early on, refusing to conform to a lifestyle fitted for their class. They were more so the type to stay out until early hours, hammer away on their current car or even sneak away for days at a time doing who knows what.

They moved out at the age of 17 with their then girlfriend, both settling in a loft apartment while they tried to keep themselves afloat. It was the best 3 years of Nash's life thus far, finally getting a proper taste of freedom - but it wasn't to last as the couple found themselves wanting different things in life and thus parted ways. Nash proceeded to get themselves a bigger apartment to dull the pain and dated around for a while, but no partner lasted longer than a year.

It wasn't until they crossed paths with a most stunning woman named Yazmin Elsayed that they turned around their life for real, smitten from the start and unwilling to give up until they had the other person on a date. There were a few years between them, after all, but it didn't seem Yazmin minded too much and not before long they both found themselves dating. It turned into one of Nash's more fulfilling relationships to date, the two feeling quite in tune to the point of moving in together and being comfortable enough to imagine their future with one another. However, things were to take a turn for the worst and both of their flaws were to become their downfall.

Two friends of Nash reached out one day to fill them in a business idea they had been cooking up for the past year or so, wondering if they would be willing to help finance the project for a stake in the company - and being slightly on the impulsive side of things, Nash found themselves unable to say no. They chose not to let Yazmin in on the investment, wanting it to be a surprise once money came rolling in - and it surely seemed to be heading in the right direction, until one of the two friends suddenly bailed with the funds. Nash and the second one stood there empty-handed, unable to do much besides file a police report for the money but no matter how long they waited they saw no return and the bank was suddenly on their tails, wanting to see some payments made back to them.

The stress, anxiety and sleepless nights began to take a toll on Nash, finding it ever so hard to tell Yazmin of what had happened and that they were sitting in the red money-wise. They slowly moved away from their chirpy self, being snappy and cold and it didn't help that Yazmin was too busy with work to properly notice that something was going on - often tired herself from work. Nash began to sneak money out of their shared joint accounts to pay off their debts and even tried to embezzle some money from their current work place, which didn't go unnoticed and eventually got them fired. Eventually Yazmin found out and the two were thrown into a fight of a lifetime, one that shook them to the core and caused them to crack in every corner. Nash felt like Yazmin was neglecting their relationship and Yazmin was hurt by Nash's lack of trust in her - thus they broke up.

Nash decided to move away from Denver in the hopes of getting away from, well, everything and managed to a slight degree. A new job, some new flings... but the debt kept looming over them like a dark cloud. Then, a mere decade later their sister came them a brief call to let them know their father was on his death bed, not wanting them to miss the chance to say goodbye. Nash decided to take the opportunity to return back home, figuring that plenty time had passed and there was little chance of them bumping into their past at this point. Today they work as a bouncer at Ambrosia Lounge and doing their best to simply move forward.

[placerdiario]

Six to Six from Neta Cohen on Vimeo.

During the lengthy sleepless nights, the familiar home surroundings of a new mother take on a dark, eerie appearance.

For more information go to: six-to-six.com

FEATURED ON Short of the Week shortoftheweek.com/2021/06/03/six-to-six/ Stash stashmedia.tv/six-to-six-short-film-by-neta-cohen/ Motionographer motionographer.com/quickie/neta-cohen-six-to-six/ Booooooom tv.booooooom.com/2021/06/14/six-to-six-neta-cohen/ The Animation Blog theanimationblog.com/short-film-spotlight-six-to-six/ Hommage hommage.com.au/filmcatalogue-sixtosix

AWARDS Animation Gold Winner, 1.4 Awards of Brilliant Filmmaking, 2021 Best Short Film Directed by a Woman, New York Intl. Women Festival, 2021 Award of Excellence, One-Reeler Short Film Competition, 2021 OFFICIAL SELECTIONS Annecy International Animated Film Festival 2020 Animafest Zagreb - World Panorama 2020 OFF - Odense International Film Festival 2020 Maryland Film Festival 2020 Linoleum Contemporary Animation and Media Art Festival 2020 Indie-AniFest - Korea Independent Animation Film Festival 2020 Encounters Film Festival 2020 Raindance Film Festival 2020 Canlandiranlar Festival 2020 Bit Bang Festival 2020 Denver Film Festival 2020 London International Animation Festival 2020 Jerusalem Film Festival 2020 Ulsan International Film Festival 2020 Dam Short Film Festival 2021 Void International Animation Film Festival 2021 Fest Anca - World Panorama 2021 Jerusalem Women's Film Festival 2021 Tel Aviv International Student Film Festival 2021 Shockfest Film Festival 2021 Deep Focus Film Festival 2021 Short of the Week - Online Premiere 2021

[coloradohq]

WELCOME TO DENVER, jo! you’ve been accepted as waylon ford (JIM PARRACK)! please have your account sent in within 24 hours; don’t forget your CHECKLIST!

JO, 31, EST; THEY/SHE. | if you’re hearing 911 by TEDDY SWIMS playing, you have to know WAYLON FORD (HE/HIM; CISMAN) is near by! the 40 year old OWNER OF THE MARKETPLACE has been in denver for, like, 19 YEARS. they’re known to be quite SELF-DESTRUCTIVE, but being GENTLE seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble JIM PARRACK. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those SLEEPLESS NIGHTS UP WITH A NEW BABY, A TV LEFT ON IN THE BACKGROUND WHILE YOU’RE ASLEEP ON THE COUCH, THE SMELL OF A FRESH MEAL BEING PREPARED WAFTING THROUGH THE HOUSE vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the DOWNTOWN DISTRICT long enough! *Filling Vince’s ex connection!

[johntzanosphd]

With increased academic competition and peer pressure, a child can develop anxiety. Sleeplessness, loss of appetite, emotional outbursts, and whatnot! A natural and safe space for your child is what I ought to bring. Professional guidance and better understanding!

[finishinglinepress]

FLP POETRY BOOK OF THE DAY: Internet Girls by JSA Lowe

ADVANCE ORDER: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/internet-girls-by-jsa-lowe/

The poems of Internet Girls concern themselves with electronic as well as physical loss and inevitability; they try to contain that slippage, to box up all that which is evanescent and disappearing. Their speaker is exhausted if not exhaustive and possibly also electronic herself, a queer female narrator staring down the untraversable span between intimacy and distance: “I keep thinking how I wish I were a poet to describe / certain things I cannot get right.” A shifting constellation of images embroiders the work together through textual and linguistic disruptions. “Someone has to sleep with politicians, be a starfucker, do your dirty / service, this work of being soap-slimed and broken,” observes one; in sequence, the lyrics stand for something natural, mystical, and larger than the self, even split by grief: “So I loved on, a desperate believer, / divider: three parts in vain but two / just here for the river.”

JSA Lowe’s poetry chapbook Cherry-emily was printed by Dancing Girl Press (2015), and her chapbook DOE by Particle Series Books (2012). Her essays have recently appeared in Denver Quarterly and Rupture. She is an adjunct professor of literature at the University of Houston–Clear Lake, and she lives on Galveston Island.

PRAISE FOR Internet Girls by JSA Lowe

Internet Girls is a work of genius, the kind of genius that unsettles you and challenges you and cheers you as you stumble in the wake of it. Lowe’s poems rattle and wobble and keep opening up, refusing nothing, despairing and celebrating and despairing again—and then joking about the despair. The poems boil over the way a mind boils over at 3 am of a sleepless night—with fears and worries and sudden jolts of insight. Things I come to these poems for: The range of reference (from Fortinbras to Trazodone), the flash of language (and the unplumbable depths in the afterflash), the ear for the music of experience, the philosophical and psychological astuteness, the laughter-in-the-face-of-it-all, the brittle keening on the brink of every danger. These poems won’t protect us or save us; they’ll take us, as Denis Johnson once wrote, “straight into the heart of the trouble” which might finally be where we need to be.

–Jon Davis

By turns notational, fluid, imploring, and unruly, Internet Girls emanates with a brand of joy—élan vital meets “blister & filth” brimming with everyday intimacy. In lines that mirror a caustic sense of self, the poems reflect immediacy of mind as being “alright with my fight / fine by my fears and my queers and my tangles.” So addressed to lovers, friends, specters of youth, persons estranged, companions in art, search-engine fantasies, and the locus of the poem itself, this writing suddenly seizes you in the intervals between craving, craft, sentence, and scene—matchless “in the grim local minimum / of the night.”

–Roberto José Tejada

These are poems of existential loss and heartbreak, weighed down by a heavy psychic burden, yet they keep showing up, through Lowe’s crystalline language, to make some sense of the shards, and in the face of barely believing it possible. Or maybe they are not even poems, maybe they are something else, something new—maybe a transcription of dreams, or of an inner monologue that began a long time ago and will go on into the future, the way all sound is a wave that just keeps pushing outward, into the universe, forever…that’s what it feels like, reading JSA Lowe.

–Nick Flynn

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #read #poetrybook #poems

[cjwelford-archive]

CJ had been there. In the six months his mom had her breakdown and left for Denver the first time around, and how his dad's job at the rig meant it was hard to get in touch, he and Wren spent many sleepless nights at the kitchen table in the small apartment they could barely afford to rent, with Emery tucked up in the only bedroom, being shielded away from it all as his elder siblings worked extremely long days just to keep a roof over his head. But he hated thinking about that time, because things improved and they were all adults living on their own without any worries (well, mostly, but CJ had good faith that Jeanie would let him know if they were indeed royally fucked), so he thought best how to help his friend, if he could share anything that he would have liked to hear back in his own situation. "I mean, you won't need to pay for movers ever, you got me. And I know a guy who has a truck. If you ever find yourself needing any extra work, I got you man. And Mattie is more than welcome to come with to sit in the office or by the pool if you have no one to watch her. I found some bills in Todd's jacket if you need some extra cash." He grinned as if he were joking, winking at his friend as he held out the pliers, but some of his shitty roommate's emergency cash was currently in CJ's backpack flung by the door. Just in case he had his own emergency, of course.

Boyd knew he needed to move. Not just because of the landlord, but because sleeping in the same room as his almost nine year old daughter was seriously cramping both of their styles... "Fuck, I'd love to man, but I don't know if we can swing it right now. With Mad's medical costs, breaking the lease, and the cost of movers..." Everything was so damn expensive these days. He ended up being lucky that Dilan's baby wasn't his. "One day, though. That's the dream. Can you hand me the pliers?"

[aaronkraft-blog]

(The 605 Studio)

This is my brother singing

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Stranger Things/The Black Phone, Bad Connection

"You know when you said you were going to help me, you didn't mention you'd be bringing the rest of the Goonies with you."

"We're pack animals." Dustin explained as he and the rest of the kids milled around Steve's now messy living room. "At this point you should just kind of expect it." Eleven was not included in this group. James Dante had not been found and according to Mike, Hopper refused to let anyone see El. Steve tried not to put too much thought as to why this was. Instead focusing on the large corkboard he'd taken off the kitchen wall that was covered in the articles and photos he'd borrowed from the library. Well "borrowed". Nancy probably wasn't going to be happy if she realized all these were missing from the archives.

"And we're playing detective because?" Max asked semi annoyed as she pinned another picture to the board.

"Weird ghost shit."

"Very specific." Max rolled her eyes. Lucas sat next to her scrolling the Denver, Colorado phone book Steve also...borrowed from the library. Using a highlighter to mark possible family members of the boys they might be able to talk to.

"You do know this thing is like five years old right?" Lucas asked as he marked down another Arellano. "Half these numbers probably won't even work anymore."

"Don't remember asking." Steve paced, taking a sip of the third cup of coffee he'd had since five that morning. The bags under his eyes were bigger and his body was shaking but that was fine, really.

"You sure you don't want to take a nap or something? You look like you're going to pass out." Will spoke with some concern as he watched Steve move.

"Nope. Can't sleep, just get nightmares and I wake up again. Or the phone rings. Or both. Or maybe I'm just having nightmares about that happening. Either way, I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to!" Steve's voice got more sporadic as he spoke. "You know, I just realized, I don't think I like coffee that much." Steve paused for a moment before taking another sip. "What was I saying?"

"Jesus H Christ Steve." Dustin made a face, looking over at the pile of missing flyers for James that they'd been given to hand out. "Hey...you don't think James disappearing has anything to do with this?"

"What?" Mike asked as he added another X on the map of the Denver suburb where Finney Blake was last seen.

"I know this was across the country-"

"And six years ago."

"-but it's weird that all of a sudden Steve starts seeing dead kids and then someone goes missing."

Everyone turned to stare at their jittery babysitter when Steve heard it. The phone upstairs started ringing. Dustin clearly noticed the face he made and he asked.

"What's wrong?" Steve didn't answer as he made his way to the stairs. Unsure whether it was the sleeplessness combined with excess caffeine or fear towards whoever was on the other line. Regardless, he took the phone off the receiver.

"He-"

"I want to go home." A boy's voice sobbed from the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His voice repeated over and over again. There was the sound of something hitting flesh then a scream.

"Hello?" Steve gripped the phone cord tightly. "What's going on?" There was a pause on the other end of the line when it struck him across the face. Literally. Like the force of a belt slapping him hard across his face. Dropping the phone as he stumbled back and cried out in pain.

"Steve?" One of the kids called out. The young man winced as he brought a hand to his burning face. Pulling it back to see blood covering his palm. He turned to see Dustin standing next to him with a worried look. "What the fuck happened?"

At this point, even Steve didn't know.

~~

Billy wasn't in a good mood when he entered the general store. His father was still pissed about the previous night which resulted in the shiny black eye he was now sporting. Sending him out to fucking Melvald's to grab a carton of milk. Course, he could've just picked it up on his way home from work but no, he needed it now. Combined with the fact that Max had disappeared to hang out with her weirdo friends, he was already walking on eggshells around the man.

"Stupid fucking bitch." Billy muttered to himself as he went back to the freezer. Grabbing a carton of milk, Billy saw the blue logo of the Safety Pup on the side warning kids to never take shortcuts home, he couldn't help but snort. Like this actually helped missing kids.

Billy was snapped from his thoughts by someone bumping into him and he turned to snap at whoever it was.

"Hey, watch where you're fucking going." Pausing when he saw the weirdo from the night before. Still in all black clothing. Still wearing sunglasses. Indoors.

"Oh, sorry." The man chuckled as Billy narrowed his eyes. "Hey! You're that kid from last night." Kid was hardly the right word considering Billy was seventeen. "Man we have to stop meeting like this."

"Yeah. We really do." The man looked him over like the girls from school did.

"You know, you look just like this kid I used to know." The man grinned. Getting way too close and Billy backed away with a snarl.

"Hey, you ever hear of personal fucking space?"

The man cowered away. Flinching like he expected Billy to hit him. He thought about it for a moment before shoving past the creep. The teen had other problems to deal with. Not noticing the way the man stared after him as he left.

[cindyyberman]

strikes and strike-outs. | nini salazar-roberts

synopsis ── when nini invited you to go bowling after exams finished, you weren’t expecting her ex-boyfriend to be there. but apparently she’s not as ready to face him as she thinks she is. ♡

── nini salazar-roberts x gn!reader

genre ── fluff

word count ── 1.7k

note ── i wrote a list with all the fics i want to write and decided to write one for every day of november. but me, being lazy, didn't get around to finishing this until today, so my bad.

♡ marvel masterlist ; misc masterlist ; prompts ; character list ; request rules

warnings ── none

It had taken weeks. So many sleepless nights, cancelled plans and cups of energy drinks poured into espressos. But I'd finally done it, I'd survived exam week.

Walking out of my last exam, I felt like I'd not just passed, but I'd actually done well. All that cramming must have payed off.

I was on my way back to my dorm, when I heard my name being called. Turning around, I was met with a slightly out of breath Nini.

Nina Salazar-Roberts and I had met on orientation day of freshman year. She may or may not have bumped into me, an accident that resulted in coffee stains all over my favourite sweater, but we'd got along incredibly well since then.

"Hey, Neens. What's up?" I brushed a piece of hair out of my face and readjusted my backpack.

"You just finished your last exam, right?" She asked, catching her breath. I nodded, and she fidgeted with a guitar pick on the edge of a silver chain. Taking a deep breath, she looked around, trying to seem nonchalant. "Great! I did too! Uh, so I was wondering if- I know you've been studying really hard lately, and I thought you might want to unwind and forget about school for a bit- it's just, me and a few of my friends were thinking of going bowling tonight, and I was wondering if you wanted to come? We were going to grab some pizza after. You can say no, I'm sure you've got other friends you want to hang out with and- "

"Nini," I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she opened and closed her mouth a few times. "You're rambling. I'd love to come with you, if I'm not intruding,"

"Great! Great, yeah, sure, I'll text you the details! See you tonight!" Her tan cheeks acquired a slightly more pink tone than usual as she nodded again. "Bye!”

Nini had texted me an hour later with a location and a list of people that were going. There was, Ashlyn, the girl who lived across the hall from me, Seb and Carlos, two boys I had spoken to a few times and Ricky, someone I'd never met but knew a little bit about from getting to know Nini.

Ricky and Nini had been best friends since kindergarden, her lifelong nickname stemming from the fact he couldn't say Nina. They had dated their entire sophomore year and then broken up on the first day of junior year only to start dating again six weeks later. It was the fairy tail romance every girl wished for, but it didn't work out.

Nini had left her high school in Utah to attend a performing arts school in Denver for her senior year. Ultimately, the school wasn't the right fit for her and she returned to Salt Lake City half way through the year. She and Ricky had done long distance for six months, but when she returned they both made a startling discovery.

While Nini had been off making memories and honing her skills and having amazing experiences, Ricky had spent the entire time moping around waiting for her to come back.

So the pair parted ways, and apparently Nini had been heartbroken with the breakup, and it had taken her a long time to get over.

I found it odd that Nini had invited the boy who broke her heart not once, but twice, but I decided not to question it.

Three hours later I was dressed up, not too fancy but fancy enough; one of my brother's black Wrangler t-shirts on top of a pastel yellow long sleeved top, tucked into some high waisted jeans with some black high top converse.

By the time I arrived at the bowling alley, only Nini and a guy I assumed was Ricky were there. He had curly brown hair and a skateboard tucked under his arm.

Nini brightened considerably when she noticed my arrival. Assuming it was due to the fact she was uncomfortable around her ex-boyfriend I took smiled and hugged her.

"This is Ricky," Nini blurted out after a few awkward moments of silence. I smiled, introduced myself, all the things you do when you meet someone new. He seemed nice enough, but i was still a little wary about him.

"Uh, Seb and Carlos texted me, they said Seb's parents are in town so they're skipping out," Nini said.

"That sucks, I was looking forward to seeing them," I said honestly.

"I think I'll go get some soda or something," Nini suggested suddenly. "You guys want anything?"

Ricky and I shook our heads and Nini flashed me an awkward smile as she speed-walked across the room to the snack bar.

"So how do you know Nini?" Ricky asked, clearly trying to make conversation.

"Oh she bumped into me at the activities fair last year. We don't talk much but I'd say we're friends,"

"Cool,"

There was another few moments of awkward silence. I subtly looked to my left to see if I could see how far away Nini was. I saw her gesture to a woman who walked up behind her; she was letting people in front of her to avoid going back to the sandpaper of a conversation she knew would be waiting for her with Ricky and I.

I was just about to open my mouth to ask another generic question in return, probably something about his major, when he spoke first.

"So, uh... how long have you and Nini been together?"

I blinked. Together? Like, together together? As in the kind of together that Ricky and Nini used to be?

I was about to respond truthfully, that we were just friends, when I remembered the relived expression Nini had when I arrived. Without thinking about it, I said "two weeks,"

"That's cool,"

I didn't think it was possible, but Ricky somehow looked even more uncomfortable after finding this out than he did before. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut, staring at the neon designs on the navy carpet.

"Uh, I think I'll actually get a drink," I said, standing up. Ricky nodded stiffly and smiled. I walked over at a normal pace, not wanting to seem like I was that desperate to avoid talking to him.

When I reached Nini, she grimaced apologetically. "I'm so sorry I left you alone with him, it's just the first time we've hung out since we broke up, and I thought I would be fine because I had a bunch of friends to act as a buffer, but then Seb and Carlos couldn't come and I just got a text from Ashlyn that she has to cover someone else's shift and can't come either, and Kourtney would rather die than bowl after what happened last time, and- "

"Hey, hey, Neens. It's okay, it's cool, I don't mind," I placed a hand on her shoulder. "I completely understand, everything's fine,"

It took a few more murmured words of comfort and some shallow breaths from her before she calmed down, a tear slipping down her face. She wiped it away angrily. "I am not crying over Ricky Bowen for god's sake, especially not when my foundation cost $48,"

"We can leave if you want?" I offered. Nini took a look over to where Ricky was waiting, before looking back into my eyes.

"Is that okay? I know this was supposed to be us celebrating exam season ending, I don't want to be a downer. I'll get over it, I think I just need a minute"

I grabbed her hand. "Neen, what you're feeling is perfectly okay, I mean I would probably be the same if I was in that situation. Let's go get some pizza, and we can just hang out. Don't worry about it, I just like spending time with you,"

She took another shaky breath. "Thank you,"

We shook Ricky off with some lie about my dog being sick, which I'm not entirely sure if he bought. To be honest he seemed just as relieved to have an excuse to leave.

"Do you even have a dog?" Nini asked as she climbed into the passenger side of my car. She immediately plugged her phone into my aux cord, having claimed for weeks that she had the perfect playlist that fit my vibe.

"Nope," I replied as I pulled out of the parking lot. "How did you get here anyway?"

"Uber," she explained as she pressed shuffle, the car filling with some soft guitar before the voice of Conan Gray spoke up.

I still remember

Third of december

Me in your sweater

You said it looked better

On me than it did you

Only if you knew

How much I liked you

"Oh I actually really like this song," I said, glancing at her. She had a smile smile that she was trying to hide. "Hey, did you know Ricky thought we were dating?"

Nini gave a little bit of a sheepish cough. "I maybe told him just in case something happened," her face went red, from what I could tell. Her darker skin owed to her filipino heritage, and also the fact I was driving down a highway made it slightly hard to tell. "I know I should have checked with you,  I didn't even plan to, I just panicked. We'd been alone for like ten minutes and he asked me about you because you two had never met and I said I was your girlfriend," she hurriedly explained. "Did he say anything?"

"Just asked how long we'd been together," I shrugged. "It's no big deal,"

Nini fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "What did you say?"

"About two weeks," I pulled into the pizza place's parking lot.

Neither of us had noticed the song had changed until I turned the engine off and Taylor Swift started singing.

The rain came pouring

Down when I was drowning

That's when I could finally breath

And that morning

Gone was any trace of you

I think I am finally clean

I got out of the car, about to walk towards the door when she grabbed my arm gently. "Thank you, thank you. I mean, Ricky's not a bad guy, the opposite actually it's just... I don't even know. I thought I was over him. I am over him!" She rugged softly on the guitar pick on the chain. "I just appreciate it. I thought we were ready to hang out again, but apparently not,”

“Well, I mean, you guys dated for like nearly two years all up right? That’s a long time. Especially in high school,” I reasoned.

Nini bit her lip and nodded uncertainly. “Yeah, I just, I don’t even know,”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out, now come on, let’s come get some food,”