#so basically wake me up when september ends

[theetherealbloom]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Paring: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort, 

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D” 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls. 

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own. 

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest. 

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

[dinogoofymutated]

Nightcrawler/GN!Reader The first Fic of the season is here!!! I'll go ahead an outright say that the other fic will NOT be this long and this in-depth. This one took me literally the whole month of september when it was only supposed to take me two weeks. I'm going to do my best to make sure that the other fics come out on time, but please have a little patience with me ;-; Also, This fic has not been beta read bc it is an absolute beast at 8k words (at least for me), so if anything seems off, or the ending was too abrupts, don't be mean lol.

You've recently moved into an old, spooky mansion that your great-aunt left you in her will. It's been uninhabited for years but is strangely well-kept. You're sure you live here alone, but every once in a while you can't shake the feeling of being watched…

Tws: Demons, stereotypical witchcraft, Alcohol consumption, Graphic depictions of blood and wounds for a minute, I'll add more if I can think of any.

    When the keys are plopped carelessly into your hands, they’re cold. They’re still cold, two weeks later when you finish moving in. It wasn't a fancy affair, no movers or big trucks, just some friends and the van they borrowed from the school. Truthfully, you didn’t really have a lot anyway. Most of them had honestly only shown up to offer their condolences for your loss.

    Your groceries feel heavier than normal when you set them on the kitchen counter, stepping back with a sigh. Never in your wildest dreams would you have even imagined of living in a place like this. You’d never even visited Aunt Maude’s house- Your, house. Sure, you and the rest of the family all knew she was well-off, but no one had a clue that when the will was read she had left you a Victorian-era mansion along with her estate. Even you hadn’t until you googled her address after the lawyer gave you the keys. 

    As surprising as it was, it was definitely your Great-Aunt Maude’s house. Every bathroom, bedroom, living space, You could see her in all of it. She was kooky and eclectic, with a love for all things strange and unusual. It was comforting, almost. To be wrapped in a house filled with the remnants of your aunt. Your eyes sting as you begin to fill up the long empty fridge, organizing it to your liking. You close the door and see your graduation photos stuck to it, along with a photo strip from the photo booth she dragged you into at your sweet sixteen. You suck in a shakey sob, tears welling in your eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day. You’re sad, and exhausted, and you haven't even unpacked yet, most of your belongings set in boxes in the Sitting room and Hallway.  But you just… couldn’t bring yourself to bother. Everything that was cold was already put in the fridge, so you decided the rest can wait till the morning.

    You trudge up the stairs with as much energy as you can muster, and when you finally make it to the master bedroom, you’re ready to pass out. The room is decorated in a way that feels much more like you than it felt like your Aunt, and you notice that the quilt on the bed was one she had shown you at Christmas one year. One you told her you very much envied. It was like she had made the room your own before she even stepped foot into the nursing home. The thought is enough to choke you up again. You crawl underneath the soft covers in a pretty pitiful manner, falling asleep almost immediately. 

    It’s only when you wake up the next morning that you start to notice something strange about this house. 

    The kitchen is a somewhat long walk from the upstares bedroom, and you’re basically starving by the time you get downstairs. You yawn as you grab the milk out of the fridge, still feeling half asleep as you turn around to grab the cereal off the counter only to find it… gone. In fact, all of the groceries you had left on the counter yesterday were gone.

     The realization is like a shot of ice through your veins. What the fuck?… You must have put them away last night, right? But you knew they were on the counter when you went to bed. You feel like you’re going to throw up, thinking about the chance that a burglar had broken in last night and you hadn’t heard it because you were upstairs. You sprint to the sitting room taking note of all your boxes and things, making sure to double-check that your TV was actually there and not a figment of your imagination, but it was definitely solid. You cautiously walk back to the kitchen, staring at the pantry door for an anxious moment before biting the bullet and swiftly opening it.

    All your groceries were in place. All are organized neatly exactly where you would have preferred them to be. Strange. You must have woken up last night and done it. Right? It wouldn’t be too absurd to assume you had put the groceries away half-asleep and forgotten about it. That had to be it. It’s not like someone broke in last night just to put your groceries away. Now that was just plain ridiculous. 

    From then on out, The strange things only seemed to continue.

    Sure, a house this old wasn’t without a general peculiarity about it, but after being told it hadn’t been inhabited since Aunt Maude put herself into inpatient care, it should be dusty, right? A home of this size, cluttered with the many odds and ends she had collected over the years? You’d never heard of a house that could dust itself. Your hands wander more than ever as you traverse the mansion, they run down the banister, across the pretty wallpaper, even taking a swipe at a shelf or two, and still, they’re clean. Not a smudge or spec of dirt on your fingers. 

    Strange, but not unexplainable. Maybe she had scheduled a cleaning service to take place after her death or something. You didn’t know. But a week goes by. Then two and then three, and everything is still spotless. And that was the least of it. Lights seemed to turn off by themselves at night. Things that you’re sure you heard fall were placed upright. If you forgot to turn the oven off, it would already be cool by the time you ran back into the kitchen- and the house constantly smelled like sulfur and brimstone. At this point, you’ve called the fire department so many times worried about a gas leak that they think you’ve gone crazy. 

    You just felt… Uneasy. Like you were being watched.

    “I feel like I’m losing my mind, Jean.” You watch as the redhead tries to hide a smile on the other side of the Facetime call, and you can’t help but pout a little when she inevitably laughs. Your little image on the top part of the camera must look rather ridiculous, hands tangled in some string lights you had found in the closet. As strangely organized and spotless as everything was, it seems that the Christmas lights in the back of the closet weren’t so lucky. Yay for you. 

    “Look, you’re just overthinking things. Don’t stress out about it.” Jean says, ever the voice of reason. You know she’s probably right. “Besides, you’ve been through a lot lately. It’s not abnormal for stress to do weird things to the mind.”

    “Yeah, I guess so.” You mumble. Detangling these lights is beginning to be a bit trickier than you first expected them to be. Each tangle and loop seems to be interconnected, and no matter how gently or firmly you are with the cords, another knot seems to form with every probable success. You sigh in annoyance, and Jean raises an eyebrow at you. 

    “Do I need to ask about the Christmas lights?” You’re about ready to give up on them when she asks, dramatically dropping them in your lap.

    “Well, remember how I was gonna throw that big Halloween party this year?” Jean hums in response. “Well, turns out that all the decorations I had for the apartment only cover like, an eighth of the house. I’ve been rummaging around in the closets all day to try and find something that might work and all I’ve been able to find is this.” You hold up the old, tangled lights for her to see.

    “That’s weird. With what I know about your Aunt, you’d think that she’d have a ton of decorations.” Jean mentions. You groan loudly, pressing your palms into the round edges of your eyesockets in frustration. 

    “Exactly! She loved Halloween, and with a house like this, there’s no way she’d just leave it bare. I’ve raided practically every closet and storage room in the house and haven’t found anything at all.” You almost shout the words, exasperated at this point. You knew for a fact Aunt Maude had to have something. It didn’t matter if it was even one of those awful animatronic jumping spiders at this point, you’d take anything if it meant you wouldn’t have to tap into your inheritance to decorate this big ass house (because there was no way in hell you weren’t going to decorate, you’d never disgrace your Aunt’s memory like that.). Jean is quiet for a moment, looking sympathetic through the screen. To be honest, as much as you value Jean’s advice, you’re beginning to think she’s got nothing to help you until-

    “Are you sure there’s not an attic or anything?”

    The thought makes you pause.

    “Oh my god, I’m an actual idiot.” You practically shriek the words, quickly standing from the floor and shoving the Christmas lights to the side as you run to get some shoes on. The attic! God, you feel so stupid for not thinking of it before! All you had to do was find the access hatch!

    “Just be careful though! Even though the house is renovated, that doesn’t mean-”

    “I’ll call you later, Okay? I’m gonna go look upstairs!”

    “No no no, don’t-”

    It takes you forever to find that damn attic. You’d think that it would be easy to find, seeing that it’s sort of an important structure in this house, but nooo. It’s been almost a month since you moved in, and yet you still feel like you’re lost while you wander around the third floor. How hard could it be to find a simple hatch? You feel like you’re looking in all the wrong places, and you know you probably are. You’re pacing around one of the third-floor bedrooms looking at the ceiling when a noise from the billiards room across the hall makes you freeze. 

    Were those footsteps?

    No, you were home alone. It couldn’t be. 

    Still, the sound leaves you on edge. You stalk across the hallway, stopping at the door to the other room as you briefly debate on how to open it. A small shuffle from the ceiling makes you jump a little, and you quickly decide, Fuck it. We ball. 

    You swing the door open with a bit more force than necessary and find the room… empty. Right. Of course, it was. You sigh in relief, running a stressed hand through your scalp as you take in the sight of the room for the first time since your original walk-through of the home. 

    In your brief scan of the room, you manage to spot a small string hanging right above the pool table, swinging back and forth. You slowly look up, and there it is. The fucking attic hatch. 

    “Oh god damn it. Was it really that easy to find?” You mumble to yourself, wondering if you really were just that stupid. 

    It doesn’t take a lot of time to move the pool table over so that you can open the latch and pull the rickety old ladder down. It looked more modern than most of the house, but it was easy to tell it was about as old as you were. You take a moment to just stare into the black hole in the ceiling, wondering if all this was really worth it. Well, you already spent all this time looking for the thing, so…

    You’re a little extra careful as you climb the ladder up into the attic, using the flashlight in your phone to light the way the further you go. The attic is a little bit dustier than the rest of the house, but to be honest, it was cleaner than you were expecting. It's dark and cramped, but once you fully enter you find that you can at least stand up to your full height. The excitement of finding the place has begun to wear off, and you start to feel a little flighty as you look around and the light from your flashlight shifts. This is okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. Maybe she had lights installed, right? You look up at the roof and are thankful to see those long, industrial fluorescent lights screwed to the ceiling. Thank god. 

    It takes a minute of stumbling and carefully following the wires to a corner of the attic, doing your best not to trip over anything along the way, and you find a small light switch in the corner of the room. You breathe a sigh of relief as you flick it on, and the lights overhead blink and light up. That’s a bit better!

    You find that Aunt Maude’s attic is cluttered with various random items, some older, others a bit more modern. The exercise bike and the Zumba tapes made you laugh a little as you passed them by, while some older cloth dolls and bunnies just made you uncomfortable. You’re not really sure where to start the search, so you just walk around for a minute. One of the lights overhead is starting to flicker a little, and you’re inwardly hoping that there’s no faulty wiring or anything that might start a fire when your foot catches on something.

    “Oh Shit!”

    There’s not a lot of time for you to catch yourself when you fall, eating absolute shit as you fall face-first into a stack of boxes. You smash your nose into something particularly hard when you land, and there’s a variety of shapes sticking into your sides that have sprouted from the smashed boxes below you. Ow, ow ow! God damnit! This is what you get for not listening to Jean. You feel a little dizzy as you sit up amongst the boxes, holding your nose tightly while you wonder if you just broke it. Your eyes are blurry from the pain, and it takes a second for you to fully come to.

    “What the hell did I just fall into?” You’re blinking away the blurriness as the sight in front of you finally starts to clear, A bunch of broken boxes now greeting you. Boxes that now had a bunch of plastic bones sticking out of the torn sides. You make a fairly embarrassing noise of excitement when you realize you had found exactly what you were looking for in the first place. The Halloween decorations!! Thank god! You were so unbelievably happy to find them that you couldn’t help but reach forward and look through the boxes immediately. 

    After thoroughly inspecting the contents, you realize that there were about eight large boxes of Halloween decorations in total. Motherfucking eight! This was perfect! The only thing was that there was still one little issue: getting them downstairs. You try not to think about those rickety ladders too hard as you move each box to a place a little easier to get to. Your back is already aching when you’re done for the moment, so you decide to sit down on the floor and lean back a little, catching your breath while looking at those eight, somewhat heavy boxes you were gonna have to fool around with in just a moment. Your foot nudges something as you do so. Hm. 

    Sitting up a little bit, you can see that it’s a floorboard, just sticking out a little bit. Oh! Guess that’s what you tripped over earlier. You try and press it back down with your foot, and that definitely doesn't work. Damn. Hopefully, you could find a hammer or something to tack it back down. You scoot over to get a better look when you notice that there’s something underneath, a dark blue color just faintly catching your eye. Curious, you lift the board a little, and after a tug or two, it gives way.

    You find an old, leatherbound book underneath. It’s got no clear name on the cover or the spine, simply a rune or emblem of sorts burned into the upper left corner. Finding it a bit strange, you flip open the cover, thinking that it must be a diary or something left by the original owners as a time capsule of sorts- but it’s not. Every page in the book is blank except for the very last one. This book is not what it has been. When the Veil strains thin will the ink be seen.

    Weird, but okay. You assume it’s a novelty or a trick or something, but it looks spooky enough, so you gently set it in one of the more empty boxes of Halloween decorations. Now it was time for the hard part.

    You drag one box at a time to the ladder, and looking at the size of them vs. the skinny steps below you, you wonder just how the hell Aunt Maude got these up here in the first place. Just thinking about getting these downstairs is intimidating, but you were never a quitter. One by one, you carefully take each box down, making sure to never carry more than you can handle and to keep a good grip on the ladder no matter what. After about 20 minutes, you get about halfway through. Four boxes down, four to go. Your arms are getting a bit tired and you’re a bit sweaty from the lack of AC in the attic, but you think you’ve got it. 

     On the fifth box of decorations, your foot slips. You gasp in shock, your stomach flipping as you fall backward- a split second of absolute terror as you fall. You’re terrified that you’re gonna die, and that Jean will never forgive you and you’d never get to throw that stupid party you were doing all this work for in the first place. 

    The air is knocked from your lungs from something that felt much more like a catch than it did the floor. You don't know what’s going on for a moment, eyes shut tight as the shock begins to wear off and you realize that you’re fine… Wait. Hold on. Someone had definitely caught you, and unless Jean had snuck in…

    To be honest, whatever you were expecting when you opened your eyes was very, very much wrong. Your heart is beating a million times a minute, a chill running through you when you finally register who is above you. Or what, rather. The first thing you see are his eyes. Yellow from pupil to scelera, almost glowing in the low light of the billiards room. He’s more fuzz than skin, blue in color, with devilishly sharp canine teeth he reveals with a sheepish smile.

    “Hallo?”

    He flinches when you shriek, doing his best not to drop you as you squirm out of his arms. Your knees give out the moment your feet hit the floor, and you scramble back, grabbing the first box you can and throwing anything you can find at him. 

    “Sorry- Sorry! I had not mean to scare you!” He holds his arms up to block each decoration you throw at him. A few plastic spiders, a zip lock of polyester faux webbing, and a little floral crow or two. You can hardly even think at the moment.

    “Stop! Please stop! I didn't want to let you fall!” He flinches at each item although none of them are very heavy. You’re running out of things to throw, stalling for a moment as you debate lunging for one of the other boxes.

    “WHAT ARE YOU?!” You shriek again.  He opens his mouth to speak as he takes a step back, and you flinch as you see something move in the corner of your eye- a tail. A spaded fucking demon tail. You had to be losing it. Having hallucinations or a nightmare or something- but as it turns out, you are definitely a fight-over-freeze kind of person, and your body kicks in before your brain has caught up. The box of bones was next to go. A hand, and then two small rib cages and a slightly heavy bundle of newspaper fly through the air.

     “Careful!” He flat-out ignores the other items, going wide-eyed at the ball of newspaper and lunging to catch it in time. He takes an audible sigh of relief when he does, and says something that makes you pause from pelting him with any more Halloween shit.

    “You’re certainly Maude’s kin, but I doubt she’d appreciate you throwing her breakables.” He halfheartedly jokes, an awkward smile on his face. You’re mid-throw with another bone, hand frozen in the air with a range of emotions going on in your head.

    “Excuse me?” You ask, possibly a little overdramatic at the moment. He goes to move, probably to set the wad of newspaper down, but you raise your hand again as if to throw, making a face at him that’s a little more goofy than it was intimidating. He hands the newspaper off to his tail, raising his hands to show that he means no harm.

    “Maude? The woman who lived here before?”

    “Yeah, I got that part!” You cry out, hands shaking a bit from adrenaline. “How do you know my Aunt Maude? And what are you!? Why are you here!?” The rapid-fire questions seem to interrupt him every time he opens his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to lose his patience with you. He very calmly places the wad of newspaper on top of a box that happens to be near, and you eye him suspiciously as he does. He sits down next to it, the tip of his tail swaying just slightly.

    “Maybe we should take a step back, Ja? I can explain everything, I promise.” He says, patting the space next to him. “Herkommen. It might be better to sit for this.” His smile is polite, and if this situation were any different, you might find his kind demeanor charming. But the situation isn’t different. He was a stranger in your house. A blue, possible-demon stranger, with a tail and what you think looks like small, pointed horns sticking out from the thick curls that cover his hairline. You eye him suspiciously, halfway wondering if this was a trick of sorts. He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to sit. Eventually, you do, but not next to him, definitely not. You sit down right where you are, hesitant and fidgety as he begins to speak.

    Of course, it would be your Aunt to summon a demon to aid her with her ridiculous (lovely) house in her failing health, instead of hiring a fucking nurse, or an assistant, or just selling the damn thing. Of course, it would be your Aunt to leave you the house with said demon in it, and not tell you. OF COURSE, It would be your aunt to tell him to take it slow while introducing himself so he wouldn't freak you out, and OF-FREAKING-COURSE, it would be you who almost killed yourself on accident and completely derail that plan. Jesus, what was worse? The fact that your aunt was apparently an actual witch who summoned demons in her elderly years, or that she didn’t explain any of this to you before leaving you the house. You didn't know how to unpack all of this, hell, you weren’t even done unpacking all of your things. 

    Well, It’s not like you could (or would) kick him out really, but in the coming weeks, you notice that Kurt is really more of a butler than a roommate.

    He’s been cleaning even before you knew he existed, but now that the grand reveal was over, you see him around the house much more often. He helps you with groceries, cooks for you when you’re exhausted, he takes the trash out sometimes too, when the sun goes down. He doesn’t go outside in the front yard very much to avoid being seen, but every once in a while, he’ll take a walk with you in the backyard. You were hesitant of him for a good bit, but you’d be a liar if you said he didn’t have a way of worming his way into your good graces. He’s… sweet. And easy to get along with. He effortlessly fits into your life, and you find yourself excited to see him when you wake up every day. You get along so well that it makes you wonder if your aunt had known that you would when she summoned him, or… you know what, probably not. 

    You learn more about him as the weeks go by. His past, his hopes for the future. You learn that his father is a demon lord of some sort, and his mothers are a bit more complicated. All three are dangerous, and all three are trying to find him. 

    “Is that why you took the pact with my Aunt?” You ask, late one night. Both of you have drinks in hand, leaning back on a pile of pillows and cushions you found in the tower room. It’s comfortable, if a bit warm. The two of you are a little flushed, words surprisingly clear as you speak. Despite being a demon, you find that Kurt is a bit of a lightweight. An accident on your part, having poured the drinks a little stronger thinking that he had a bit more tolerance. 

    “Mostly.” Kurt hums. He’s fully leaning against you, head resting snugly against your own with his tail curled around your abdomen. His horns are resting against your temple in a rather uncomfortable manner, but you don’t mention it. He takes another drink.

    “I don’t know how she knew. Or if she knew, really. Magic is specific to each demon, like a fingerprint of sorts, just a bit easier to track. When a demon makes a pact, their magic is filtered through the pact-bearer- which creates a different kind of magic. I needed a place to hide, she was offering me a home. It was easy.” His words slur a little where his accent tends to come out a bit stronger.

    “Was that all she offered you? A place to stay?”

    “That and…” He trails off for a quick moment, clearing his throat to change the subject. “Well, anyway. I was desperate, and she seemed kind, so I agreed.” You nod as you think it over yourself. You can’t tell if he’s just drunk or it's a sensitive subject, but he can’t just have accepted the many tasks of cleaning and caring for an old woman for something less in return. Was it that easy for demons to make pacts like that? Surely, she wouldn’t have offered him her soul or anything.

    You open your mouth to ask him more questions, but when a light snore reaches your ears, you know he’s fallen asleep. You can't help but smile, a warmth in your chest that you don’t really think is from the alcohol.

    A few days later, it’s Saturday, October 31st. After some long weekends and late nights, you finally have the whole house decorated, inside and out! You were so beyond excited. The whole place looked like it had come straight out of a Halloween catalog! You were so proud of how amazing it looked, but you could never have taken all the credit. Kurt was a big help, both with the placement and creativity of the many decorations. Everything that had to be put outside had to be done so at night so that Kurt wouldn’t be seen, and sure, sometimes you would wake up and see a few things were crooked, but at least it was fun! You’ve never felt so invigorated and filled with Halloween spirit, especially now, a few hours before the party. You’re shaking some full-sized candy bars into a big-ass plastic cauldron, and Kurt walks in with his arms full of Party favors for tonight.

    “You know, I’m not sure you could give away all of these if you tried!” Kurt laughs, setting them all down on the coffee table in the sitting room. It's a bunch of plastic spider rings, vampire teeth, squishy skeletons, slap bracelets, and more. All sorted into their own neat ziplock bags. The apartment complex you used to live at never really got any trick-or-treaters, so you had a lot of leftover goodies you were happy to finally use. You let out an excited giggle, taking one of the bags and emptying it into the cauldron. 

    “You’ll be surprised! With the neighborhood that’s just around the corner, I know for a fact that we’ll have plenty of kids come by!” You almost sing. Kurt smiles at you, taking a bag of his own to empty. 

    “Don’t get your hopes up, Schatz. It’s an old building, and rather scary from afar. Maude never really had a lot of visitors on Halloween.” You pout at his words, before tilting your head like you’re considering them as you continue to fill the cauldron. 

    “True, but Aunt Maude never tried posting on neighborhood Facebook groups and hyping up PTA moms before. Besides, the house is scary, but that's what the lights are for!” Kurt shakes his head, laughing as you voice the thought. You mayyy have gone overboard this year. A few extra strands of lights, blow-ups, and animatronics never hurt anybody, right? I mean, with most of your expenses taken care of due to the paid-off mansion you live in, you were able to spend a little bit more of your personal spending money on Halloween. Your new home was a whole-ass Halloween attraction, and a good bit of the neighborhood thought so too! After posting online, you were pleasantly surprised with the positive feedback from the surrounding neighborhoods, and had even personally met a few kind neighbors since!

    Kurt however, couldn’t risk being seen, and had to hide every time. Most people would freak out, just like you did, and the attention isn’t really a good thing for him. The thought sends you on the same spiral that you had been on for the past week, and the smile slowly slips off your face as Kurt takes the pot from you and begins to mix the goodies all together.

    “...You’re sure you don’t want to come tonight?” You ask, vulnerability shining through your voice. Kurt looks up from the task, brow furrowed. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then looks back down again.

    “I don’t want to scare anyone.” He says softly, making your frown deepen.

    “You won’t! I promise you won’t. None of my friends scare easily- and besides! It’s Halloween. Everyone will just think you’re in a costume!” You try to make the last bit of the plea happy and convincing, but it doesn’t seem to work very well. Kurt doesn’t look at you until he’s done with the pot, placing it back on the coffee table. When he does, his smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes,

    “I’ll be fine, Schatz. I promise. It will be easier for me to just hide. I can easily enjoy the party from a distance.” The words aren’t very convincing, but before you can say anything else, the doorbell rings. Kurt dusts himself off as he stands, tail swaying as he pulls you to your feet. 

    “Looks like your guests are early. Make sure to have fun tonight, Ja? I’ll see you later.” Kurt squeezes your hands, and you try not to look too disappointed. After all, it was his decision, and you don’t want him to feel forced to show himself when so much could go wrong. You give him a moment to head back upstairs, disappearing like he used to do back in the beginning. You can’t help but sigh a little, but there’s a hesitant knock on the door instead of the doorbell this time, and you know you can’t just stand here and ignore it.

    You don’t really know who is going to be on the other side of the door, with it being mid-afternoon and still a hot minute before the party actually starts, but the bloody, red-haired Carrie on the other side of the door brightens your spirits the moment you see her.

    “Jean!” You cheer, rushing to give her a hug that she warmly returns.

    “Happy Halloween!” Jean says before pulling away. “I hope you don’t mind, I thought I’d come by a little early to help you set up.” 

    “Are you kidding? I have a whole ass kitchen of food I still need to plate.” You step aside to let Jean in as she laughs. You were originally to do most of the prep with Kurt, and although Jean is technically interrupting, you try not to let it get you down. This is the first time you’ve seen her in a long while, and you were already rather lucky that Halloween was falling on a Saturday this year- most of your friends/guests all working at the prep school nearby. 

    “Am I the first one here?” Jean asks as you lead her to the kitchen, and you hum in response.

    “Yup, It’s been just me all day.” You’ve never been the best liar, but you think you’re a little convincing at least. 

    “Funny, I could have sworn I heard a man’s voice when I rang the doorbell.” Jean’s smug tone almost makes you stop in place. If you were even a little convinced that some of this house was soundproof, those hopes were dashed instantly. You smile nervously, trying to play it off as you pass the sitting room, the TV giving you an idea.

    “Whaaaattt? No. I mean- I’ve had the TV in the sitting room running all day, so maybe that’s what you heard.” You say, trying to wave her off. Unfortunately, Jean had the ungodly ability to pick up your anxiety like a goddamn bloodhound.

    “Really? There’s not some mystery boyfriend you’re not telling me about?” Jean teases. You get stiff and quiet immediately, biting your lip as you reach the kitchen. She takes the silence as an affirmative answer, and she’s not exactly far off. Jean cocks an eyebrow at your nervous stance, chuckling at the sweat that practically beads at your brow. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks by busying yourself with setting out different snack foods to organize and avoiding her eyes, but it doesn’t work. 

    “Oh come on, I’m not blind. You’re over there blushing like a student. Who’s the lucky guy?” Jean asks, helping you with the task. You begin to open a back of chips, looking away from Jean’s knowing gaze.

    “I- We’re- We’re not really a thing. He’s just a friend.” You say, heart thundering in your chest as you pray Kurt isn’t lurking nearby. You’re struggling with the bag still, and Jean holds her hands out as an offer. You hand it to her without a second thought, and she opens the bag easily.

    “And is this friend coming to the party tonight?” She asks. You stall for a moment. All you can hear are the soft clinks of the chips hitting the inside of one of the bowls you had set out. You’re not quite sure what to say to that, or even if you had anything to say. Your hesitance makes her frown, looking up at you cautiously. When she puts the bag back down, she reaches out to take your hand. 

    “Well, if he does stop by, I’ll be glad to meet him.” Her tone is reassuring, and you muster a small smile for her. Tonight was supposed to be fun, so you’d do your best to enjoy it.

    The night goes by busier than you ever would have expected. Everyone comes dressed to the absolute nines in their costumes, and although a few were lacking in imagination in your opinion- Logan specifically- everyone looked amazing. You quickly realize that It’s harder to be a good hostess in this big ass house than you would think. Between the food, trying to catch up with friends, and the doorbell constantly ringing with practically a line down your driveway of more trick-or-treaters than you’ve ever seen, you were constantly busy. Lucky for you, you had good people around you. Logan and Scott thankfully took over cooking hamburgers and hotdogs- and Jean promised to keep them from butting heads. Ororo and Xavier happily volunteered to hand out the candy when you couldn’t, and you had Jubilee to count on when it came to the music. The house was busy, people were smiling, and overall, everything was going really well. 

    The only downside was that you hadn’t seen Kurt since Jean arrived. Sure, it was busy, but every time you managed to pry yourself away from the crowd and look for him in his usual hidey-spots, you never found him. He’s good at being sneaky, I mean he has to be, right? Being blue and all, but his consistent absence makes you a little nervous. He’s probably just being extra cautious, and you can’t blame him for that.

    After a few drinks have been had, spirits are high, and some different party games you had planned were finished, it was time to vote for best costume. Almost everyone had gone outside, enjoying the yard and the house in all its festive glory, but you stayed inside to count the votes. Kitty and Illiyana had volunteered to help you, and it takes a surprising amount of time to count the various strips of colored construction paper. In the end, it seems like it was really more of a “most ridiculous” costume contest instead. Jubilee, dressed as the one in only Kool-aide-man in the biggest plastic fishbowl you’d ever seen, won best costume by a single point, with Kevin’s fantastic costume of Professor Xavier himself a single point behind. You try your best not to laugh, knowing that they are not going to be too happy about that. You had bought a light up-sash and a plastic crown for the winner, stopping to grab them before stepping outside to try and find the teen. 

    Somehow, you can’t find her. I mean, You think it would be easy to find a huge red bowl with a face on it, but she’s not outside at all. When you ask Hank, he says he’s pretty sure she went back inside, so inside you go. You’re starting to get a little anxious at this point, not finding her on the first, or second floor. The third floor is completely dark, aside from the colorful light coming from the windows. You call out her name with no response, and then thinking that Kurt may have seen her, you call out his name next. Nothing. He’s never done that before. Sure, there was a lot going on, but normally he’d at least try to answer you. You creep from door to door upstairs, without any luck, when a muffled sound from the tower room falls on your ears. It makes you pause for a moment. It might be nothing, but you remember telling Jubilee about the room earlier, so you figure it wouldn’t hurt to check.

    You’re hesitant, but then there's another muffled cry, and this time, you know it’s him. You slowly creep up over to the door, and then up the stairs to the room. Minutes feel like hours, and when you finally get there, you find Kurt, on his knees and doubled over in pain with his hands pressed to his chest.

    “Oh my god, Kurt!” You cry out, running over to him. His face is scrunched up in a wince, his eyes shooting open when you try to help him sit up. 

     “No, no- You can't be here- You need to go,” Kurt’s voice comes out between heaving breaths. Your hands are shaking, panicked as you spot the blood seeping through his shirt. He hisses in pain when you touch the spot, as if he’s been burned, and when his hands quickly tug your wrist away- his neckline shifts. There’s a brand over his heart. Etched into him as if it were carved with a scalpel.

    “What happened? What's happening?” The words come out faster than your brain can catch up. His nails are elongated, razor-sharp points almost digging into the skin of your wrist as hold hold shifts. The brand glows as another wave of pain washes over him. Those small points that normally hide in his curly hair have grown, too. His horns sweep over his head, prominent and black at the very tips. He cries out, slumping forward onto your shoulder as the pain passes.

    “You need to go. Bitte- I need you to leave.” Kurt almost whimpers, practically limp against you as he tries to catch his breath. “It’s Azazel, my Vater. He’s found me. He’s using the brand to track me down. It’s too dangerous for you to be here.” He stiffens as another wave of pain hits him, and you do your best to keep upright. There’s so much running through your head, concern, confusion. You don't know how to help him besides holding up up and it's killing you to see him like this.

    “I don’t understand- I thought he couldn’t find you unless you used magic?” Kurt looks ashamed when you ask the question, tucking his head further into your shoulder. It's only then that you actually take a look at the room around you. There's an open book on the ground, runes and lettering you don't understand scatter the pages, along with a diagram of a devil that seemingly shifts into something more human and back at every shift of your eye. When you see the worn cover, you recognize it as the book beneath the floorboards- and you finally understand that it's a spellbook.

    “I… I wanted to join you.” Kurt whispers, unable to look you in the eye. “My Mutter was skilled in transmutation so I…” He trails off, shaking his head and wincing when another sharp pain shoots through him.

    “It was stupid. I’m sorry. I should never have touched it without a pact.”

    “If you make one now, will the brand disappear?” 

    Kurt visibly pauses. Sitting up as best he can to get a look at your face. You're still panicking, but overall you feel mortified. Ashamed. Did you do this? Were you so instant that he came tonight that he would risk everything just to do so? What was wrong with you- and why on God's green earth would he actually try to go through with it? You're beginning to tear up, swallowing down your thoughts as you offer the only thing you can think of. Kurt doesn't answer you at first, his yellow eyes wide with shock as he stares at you. 

    “If you make a new pact, will you be able to dispel the tracker?” You repeat, trying so hard to seem confident and self-assured through your shaky voice. Kurt’s face shifts into something you can't quite place, and he shakes his head.

    “I can’t ask that of you-”

    “Kurt, just answer me!” You’re too stubborn to let it go. A trait that you and Maude often shared. Kurt takes your hands into his own, squeezing them, and shakes his head. He's insistent in his own right, conveying his worry and fears- not for his own future, but yours.

    “This isn’t the way you want to gain a pact! Maude had made preparations. She had charms and protections and rules in place! There’s no time for us to do the same. If you make a pact with me now with nothing? It would bind your soul to mine for eternity. You would have no rest, no peace- no Heaven. I won’t-”

    “I love you!” Kurt sucks in a sharp breath at your exclamation. Tears have started to roll down your face no matter how hard you were trying to blink them away. 

    “I don’t care about eternity, or rest- or any of that. I love you. Fuck- I know I haven’t even known you three months- I just…” You trail off, looking away from him in embarrassment that all of this had to come out in such bullshit circumstances.

    “Please just make the pact.”

    Kurt’s eyes soften, almost scanning your own as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re telling the truth. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the tears from your face, careful of his claws, and then suddenly, he kisses you. It’s easy for you to melt into his desperate kiss, a hand coming up to cup his face as he pulls you closer with his tail. The strong limb pulls you into a straddle across his lap as he takes your free hand in his own. When he breaks the kiss, he does so with a mumbled apology as he takes your free hand. You feel a sudden stinging pain as a careful claw slices across your palm, and he apologizes again as he presses it over his heart, directly against the bleeding brand. Both of you hiss at the sudden, blinding pain as his hand continues to press your palm tightly to the wound.

    There’s an energy that begins to fill your body, like an electric current that links the two of you together. Your skin is buzzing, your head spinning as you fall against his shoulder in a mirror of his own position earlier. Kurt’s new claws dig into his own skin, and he grits his teeth as the pain from the brand grows more and more- before everything stops.

    You wish you could say there was some spark, or spoken words, or something, but it all ends almost anti-climatically. Everything stops. Everything is quiet- almost too quiet. Whatever vertigo you are feeling begins to wear off, and when you feel like you can finally lift your head, you look at Kurt.

    He’s smiling at you, horns reduced, fingernails shortened, with your hand still pressed over his heart- the brand gone and the skin healed on both of you

    “Is it over?”

    “It’s over.” He confirms, and you sigh in relief, pressing your forehead against his own. Kurt doesn't take long before he’s pressing kisses all over your face, holding you still as you giggle and squirm. You know there’s more to be said between you, but it’s been one hell of a night, and right now you’re enjoying the comfortable silence between Kurt’s fluttering kisses- until someone calls your name from the tower stairs.

    “Hey, You in there?” Jean’s voice echoes through the space, and you sit straight up, heart given a jumpstart as Jean comes into view- you don’t have time to move before she gets there.

    “You’ll never guess where we found Jube….” She trails off when she sees you and Kurt. “Oh?” Your face is as red as it can get, panic shooting through you at the realization that she’s seen the actual demon living in your home. All he does though is smile and wave, although a bit nervously. Jean raises an eyebrow, beginning to smile just as you realize the position the two of you are in.

    “Nice costume,” Jean says, and after a moment of confusion, you realize she’s talking to Kurt. Kurt looks relieved, shoulders relaxing underneath you, and you clear your throat.

    “Jean, this is Kurt.” 

    The air settles in the Tower room once it’s empty, the sound of the party downstairs is muffled through the floorboards, but still present nonetheless. There’s almost a giggle in the air, and the book flips from page to page before it closes shut, and the ink fades as the grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway strikes midnight. A pact is completed, and the energy in the air begins to fade. After all, a soul can’t leave the mortal plane until its final business has been finished, and Maude had not promised her own soul to the friendly blue devil, but no one said she couldn’t offer something else- a soulmate. 

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 11: The Innocent Can Never Last]

A/N: Below are your guesses…let’s see how you did!!! 🥰😘 Only 2 chapters left 🥳

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Wake Me Up When September Ends” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.3k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“You could have gone to California with them,” Rio says as he flips open the fuel cap of a black Nissan Frontier, parked in the driveway of a two-story brick house on National Avenue, not far from where Route 95 branches north of Winnemucca like an artery from a heart.

You squint up at the cumulus clouds to avoid meeting his eyes. You keep thinking you’re going to cry and have to suffocate it, drown it, slit its throat. “I didn’t want to.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Sweat runs in rivulets down his face as he slides in the semitransparent siphoning hose, the one with the little pump on it that Jace had when you found him in Iowa. Aemond gave this to Cregan; he kept the hose without the pump for himself. A small, curious sacrifice. You are fanning Rio with a magazine, Bow International. You had grabbed it thinking of Daeron, then remembered he wasn’t here to give it to. “Jesus Christ, it’s so fucking hot…”

“Djibouti was hotter.”

“Djibouti had a beach. And an air conditioning unit in every window.”

Cregan is waiting by the Tahoe and leafing through a guidebook he found at the Maverik gas station. Ice is lying on the ground and panting beside him, her shaggy grey coat filthy with dust and sand. “The town was named for Chief Winnemucca, who was born in the 1820s in what would later become the Oregon Territory. It either means ‘the giver of spiritual gifts’ or ‘one moccasin,’ depending on the interpretation.”

Rio says: “Damn Cregan, you can read?”

Cregan frowns down at the guidebook with feigned regret. “I really wish Trump had built that wall.”

Rio guffaws. “Cregan, man, I told you. I was born here!”

He continues: “Winnemucca was a stop on the transcontinental railroad.”

“Great. Let’s get that up and running again.” Rio groans as he squeezes the pump on the siphoning hose with increasing frustration. “Absolutely nothing. Not a drop.”

“We probably have enough to get to Denio Junction,” you say gingerly, knowing he’s suffering. It has to be over 100 degrees.

“Yeah, and what if there’s no gas there? How the hell are we going to get to Adel, Oregon?”

“We could walk if we have to.”

“85 miles? In heat like this?”

“In basic training we had to run—”

“We had water in basic training, Chips!” he snaps; and Rio never snaps. “And real food, and corpsmen for if we passed out, and also there were no fucking zombies running around eating people, remember that part?!”

You stare down at the dirt. You can’t cry; you can’t waste the liquid.

“Wait, no, no, no, I’m sorry.” Rio lifts your chin so you aren’t able to hide from him. “I’m…you know…I should already be there. I could be in Odessa in six hours, I could be with Sophie and the baby before sundown, and instead we’re stuck here in the desert and I’m thinking…what if what should take hours ends up taking weeks? What if when I get there, I’m too late?”

You nod, you understand. Out on the road, Cregan keeps his face buried in his guidebook, trying to be polite and pretend he can’t hear you.

“And, I’m also thinking…” Rio says, soft and low. “That I don’t want to be the reason why you miss out on a chance at happiness when the world could literally be ending.”

You gaze up at him, dejected, pathetic. “I can’t handle any virgin jokes right now.”

“I know. I wasn’t going to make one.”

“I didn’t want to go with them to California,” you lie. And then a truth: “And I would never leave you. I promised.”

Rio smiles. “You promised not to let me die alone, and I don’t plan on dying. You’ve gotten me most of the way already.” He glances towards the Tahoe. “I think Axe Boy would have rather stayed with them too. When he was asleep last night I heard him mumbling something about Helaena.”

Cregan? Helaena? Interesting. “Aemond doesn’t want me.”

“Oh, come on. You know he and his one eye are sobbing into a can of SpaghettiOs right now.”

“Be nice,” you murmur morosely.

“Why? He can’t hear me,” Rio says. “Look, Aemond’s fucked up. And of course he is. He went from learning how to save lives and deliver babies to watching his friends die horrible, preventable, completely meaningless deaths. That’s gotta suck. It sucked for me, and I barely even knew them, and no one expected me to be able to do anything about it. Aemond’s the one people trusted to protect them, and he couldn’t. So why would he be able to protect you?”

I never wanted Aemond to protect me. I just wanted him to take me away from here, even for a minute, even for seconds, one hushed stolen moment at a time. “I wish I had said something different back in Battle Mountain.” I wish I had told him I love him. But I didn’t, and now it’s too late.

“You deserve to have the whole wholesome normal family thing, the husband and the kids and the warm fuzzy holiday traditions. I know you’ve always wanted that.”

“If I choose the wrong person, I’m going to end up alone and miserable. And I’ll turn into a monster like my mother.”

“Hey,” Rio says, like he’s ready to fight you. And then he uses your real name, something he’s done maybe five times since you met him, just like you almost never call him Bryan. “You will never be like your mother. Okay? It’s not possible. You don’t have it in you. You’re not a parasite, you’re not mean.”

You want to believe him. “Okay.”

Then Rio chuckles. “Actually, you’re going to end up like my mom. Living in the middle of the woods, making your own soap out of goat milk, growing weed and knitting sweaters.”

You smile wistfully. “I have no idea how to knit. I want to build things.” Then you remember something from when you were fishing on Lake McConaughy in Nebraska. “Aegon said I look like someone who knits. Whatever that means.”

“It means you’re from Kentucky.” Then Rio asks, tentative: “So…what do you think about Aegon?”

This seems random. “He’s cool. I like him, obviously. He’s, um…I don’t know how to describe it. He’s so sad but so warm. It’s impossible to feel nervous around him, which is nice.”

Rio nods, giving you a teasing smirk. “Alright then.”

“Why?”

“Well I was just thinking that if he grows up a little more, he might be good for you.”

“Rio, he’s thirty.”

He bursts out laughing. “So give it another decade and he’ll finally be baby daddy material.”

“I’m sure he’ll be preoccupied with his drug dealing and brothel empire by then.”

“You aren’t even the tiniest bit intrigued?”

“I’ve never really thought about him that way.” And there’s another dimension to it that wouldn’t occur to Rio: Aegon is an addict. You know what it’s like to have to depend on somebody like that. You would never allow yourself to fall in love with him, not the way he is now.

Rio sighs and pivots. “You want me to give you a baby?”

Now you’re giggling. Of course, he’s not serious, just like he wasn’t serious when you were trapped on that transmission tower together back in Pennsylvania. “Stop.”

“I’m super tall and charming, and I was a great electrician back when electricity existed, and I have luscious curly hair that you can readily observe since the U.S. Navy isn’t around to make me shave it off anymore.”

“Sorry, I don’t reproduce with Enrique Iglesias fans.”

“You are so racist, and yet I’d still be willing to help you out with a sperm donation. I’d blindfold myself and struggle through it somehow.” He’s grinning, but his dark eyes are kind. “As long as I’m alive, you will always have a family. And Sophie gets that. Her parents were fuckups too. That’s why she’s so close with mine even though they’re insane.”

“They’re exactly the right kind of insane for the way the world is now.”

“Remember when my dad went through his ‘wifi gives you cancer’ phase and would only communicate with me via Republican-president-themed postcards?”

“The Ronald Reagan one was neat. So many eagles.”

“Truly an excessive amount of eagles.” Rio goes for the porch. “I guess we’ll scrounge whatever we can inside and check the rest of the cars on the street before we head north.”

“I ain’t seen any others without the fuel cap already open,” Cregan says from the Tahoe, dispirited but trying not to show it.

“If we end up having to walk, we’re going to need water or Hawaiian Punch or something. A lot of it. Maybe we can find some of that Pedialyte stuff Aemond got for Jace when he was sick.” Rio pounds one closed fist against the front door. “Hey! Anybody home? We’re looking for supplies. Not trying to cause any problems. If somebody’s in there, just give a shout and we’d be happy to keep moving.”

You’ve followed Rio up onto the porch. “If there’s no water inside, canned fruit will work. You can drink the syrup for hydration, and all the sugar gives you calories.”

Back by the Tahoe, Cregan is leaning down to pet Ice. She’s still panting hard, foamy saliva dripping from her muzzle. “Y’all, we gotta get moving,” Cregan says. “Princess needs to be back in the truck with the AC, and I don’t want to waste gas by letting it idle.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re working on it.” Rio kicks the door once, hard enough that you hear the wood split near the hinges, dry and cracking. He backs up to prepare to give the door another blow, which is all it will take. Then there is a muffled voice from inside the house.

“Get the hell off my property!”

Immediately, you are stunned by the boom of an explosion, shards of wood flying like shrapnel, the steel barrel of a shotgun jutting from the fresh hole in the center of the door. Rio is scrambling off the porch and dragging you with him. With your free hand, you grab your M9 from its holster and begin shooting before the man inside can fire again, before he can kill Rio or Cregan or you. Your bullets pierce through the blackness of the gaping wound in the front door. You hear shrieks of agony; you see flecks of blood painting the wood. Now there are people shooting from the second-story windows, and you feel the wind of bullets clip by as Rio pulls you towards the Tahoe. The engine starts; Cregan is already in the driver’s seat. You return fire until your M9 makes only small, hollow clicks when you pull the trigger. And by then Rio is shoving you into the truck.

“Go, go, go!” Rio yells at Cregan the second he crawls in behind you and slams the door shut. Cregan swerves away from the curb and barrels down the street, tires squealing, gunshots still ringing out from the house. Ice is barking franticly.

“Rio, I’m out,” you say, terrified.

“What?”

“Bullets. I’m out of bullets.”

“We gotta go,” Rio concedes. There are scratches on his cheeks from splinters of wood, sweat turning from clear to blood-tinged pink as it drips down onto his shirt. “We gotta get out of Winnemucca. If we have to walk, we’ll walk. At least there’s no one north of here to worry about for a hundred miles. Not living and not dead either.”

From the backseat, you glance over at Cregan. “Oh my God, Cregan, you’re hurt.”

“I know.” His right forearm is covered in blood. It’s a graze wound, but deep; when he turns the steering wheel, you can glimpse the white of bone as his shredded muscles open like a mouth.

“You need stitches!”

“Oh yeah?” Cregan replies as the Tahoe bumps over corpses in the street, bodies mummified by the wind and the sun. “And which of you two would be better at that, you think?”

“We’ll get supplies to patch you up,” Rio says, peering out the window, searching for someplace to stop. “And enough food and water to last us through the desert. Right there, hop on Route 95, and we’ll find a store at the edge of town before we’re in No Man’s Land.” Cregan jerks the wheel; the Tahoe veers onto Route 95 heading north. Boarded-up houses and graffitied overpasses and gnarled bristlecone pine trees and lifeless traffic lights and looted storefronts pass by in a blur.

You turn to Rio. “What if those people try to follow us?”

“It’ll only take five minutes.”

“Rio…”

“We don’t have enough to drink. If we get stranded in the desert, we’ll die. I’m not dying out there. I didn’t cross 3,000 miles to drop dead just a few hundred away from Sophie.”

He’s right. There’s no other option. North of Winnemucca is a wasteland, a boneyard. “Okay,” you surrender, helping him look for stores. “But we have to be quick.”

“I can be real quick, baby. You’d know that if you took me up on my very selfless sperm donation offer.”

Cregan raises his eyebrows; you can see his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Y’all have a mighty strange relationship.”

Rio is pointing. “Right there, Riverside Grocery & Liquor. Let’s give that a try. Cregan? You see it? By the Taco Bell.”

“Of course you’d be attracted to Taco Bells,” Cregan says as the Tahoe zigzags across the parking lot, but his voice is woozy. Blood pours from the gash in his arm. What if the bullet severed a major artery? What if he’s bleeding to death?

You ask: “Cregan, do you feel okay?”

“I’m alright. Don’t you worry about me, Miss Chips. You got enough worries already.”

“You don’t look alright.”

His eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror; they are fearful. “I think I need to get pressure on it.”

“We’ll take care of you, buddy,” Rio says. And as soon as Cregan shifts the Tahoe into park, Rio is out the door and striding into the small grocery store, his Remington 12 gauge in his hands. It’s unloaded, but still good for blunt force trauma. The glass of one of the front doors has been shattered. Rio steps inside, his boots crunching on broken glass. You are right behind him; Cregan lifts Ice with his uninjured arm so she can get inside without cutting her paws.

Harsh desert sunlight streams in bright enough that you can see reasonably well, dusk or dawn instead of midday. The air tastes like dirt and decay. The shelves of alcohol have been picked clean, but cans and bottles and cardboard boxes have been left strewn haphazardly around the rest of the store. There are several circular racks of souvenir t-shirts: horses, mountains, pine trees, I was a buckaroo on the Cowboy Corridor, #DesertLife, Straight Outta Winnemucca. You yank a white shirt with a rattlesnake on it off its hanger and tie it tightly around Cregan’s bleeding forearm, closing the ragged ends of his wound.

Ice is whining and nudging at Cregan. “There’s one in here,” he warns.

“Yeah, I got it,” Rio says. She staggers out of the stockroom hissing and growling, the flesh on her face almost completely gone, her exposed skull stained with clotted blood, her teeth chattering. Long strands of blonde hair hang in patches from the back of her head. She is wearing a red vest with a nametag on it. Once upon a time, her parents called her Jasmine. Rio strikes the zombie with his Remington so hard it is decapitated, and the corpse crumples to the filthy tile floor as its head rolls over towards the cash register. Then he slings the shotgun over one of his shoulders and begins shopping.

Cregan is tall enough to see the tops of shelves where items have been missed; he pulls down bottles of Snapple, Gatorade, Yoohoo, Jarritos soda and stuffs them into his backpack. You are on your hands and knees sorting through the debris on the floor, everything coated with a layer of dust and sand. You find cans of mandarin oranges, boxes of graham crackers, tuna pouches, and packets of Tylenol. Cregan will need them. He needs more than that, but you can’t give it to him. You’ve never been to medical school. You grab more souvenir shirts to use as bandages later.

Maybe there are doctors in Odessa.

Rio says excitedly from the other side of the store: “Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!”

Maybe there’s a life worth living in Odessa.

“Just hurry up so we can go.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He’s filling his arms with boxes and bottles, making a lot of noise. Ice is pacing and whimpering, panting like she can hardly breathe, drooling gluey strings of saliva. The grocery store is an oven. Cregan pops open a can of Arizona iced tea and pours it into her mouth to be gulped greedily down. Still, Ice’s yellow wolfish eyes dart around the room, vigilant, rattled.

“I think there’s another zombie,” you say, watching her. You reach for your M9 before remembering it’s unloaded.

Cregan replies: “Sure she ain’t just overheated?”

Somewhere close, less than a mile away: gunshots out on the streets of Winnemucca.

“Ready, kids?” Rio says, his arms overflowing, half a Slim Jim hanging out of his mouth like a cigarette.

“Yes sir,” Cregan agrees. The t-shirt you knotted around his forearm is splotched with crimson, but the bleeding appears to have slowed. Fragments of glass shatter as he crosses through the doorway and out into the parking lot, carrying Ice as she struggles and barks.

Rio pauses as he passes one of the other t-shirt racks, circles of metal that gleam like halos. He’s rearranging his supplies so he has a free hand to grab a shirt he likes. There are more distant gunshots outside, and the squealing of tires. In the parking lot, Cregan is starting the Tahoe.

You say distractedly, noticing an empty Twizzlers wrapper on the floor and thinking of Jace: “Rio, let’s go.”

“Hold up, this one has an elephant on it—”

The hand juts out from below the rack and seizes his ankle, claws up his legs, rips and tears at him, grey flayed flesh and screeches from rotting vocal chords, something that used to be a man or a woman and is now only a monster, half a body, nothing from the waist down but shred of black necrotic muscle, skin, intestines, too close for Rio to push away, already clinging to him like graffiti on concrete, like a pair of stainless steel dog tags hanging from his neck. Without thinking, without hesitating, you are across the store and trying to get it off him, screaming as your fingers rake through disintegrating gore, so deep you can feel the zombie’s ribs like rungs of a ladder, trying to get a grip on it, trying to kill it. Now Cregan is back with his axe and he’s hacking at the skull as best he can without hitting Rio, and Ice is barking, and Cregan is yelling for you to get away before you’re bitten, but you don’t listen, you don’t care; all your life you were homesick until you found homes with Rio thousands of miles from where you were born, and if he’s gone then so is the only place you’ve ever belonged. There is a surge of blood, hot and metallic, rot and iron in the air, and you don’t know whose it is.

He can’t be gone. If he’s gone, who am I?

An arm hooks around your waist and drags you backwards, so roughly you lose your breath for a moment and cannot fight them; over your right shoulder, you see a hand holding a Glock. Aemond pulls the trigger and the zombie falls to the floor, a mangle of decomposition and exposed bones, because wherever the others ended up they found bullets and gasoline…and then they came back for you.

Aegon is stumbling over the rubble that litters the floor to get to Rio. You can hear Daeron and Rhaena’s voices out in the parking lot, and the blasts of Rhaena’s Ruger, the revolver she once didn’t know how to use. Cregan is trying to help Rio up, but he can’t stand. He is slumped against bare shelves and holding a hand to his throat, where he’s hemorrhaging from a gaping, ragged wound, torn arteries and lacerated veins. He’s been bitten, but his transformation won’t take long. He’s bleeding out. His dark eyes are on you, and beneath the glassy sheen of catastrophic blood loss is disbelief and fury and grief. He will never see Sophie again; he will never meet his child.

Your voice is a whisper, a phantom. “Bryan…”

“It only takes once, right?” he says, weak and guttural, already fading, blood on his lips. Then his eyes drift to Aemond. “Get her out of here.”

“No!” you shriek as Aemond pulls you towards the door, his arms locked around your waist, his lips to your ear as he begs you to come with him, that you have to leave, that it’s not safe here, that Rio doesn’t want you to see what has to happen next. Aegon is sobbing as he touches Rio’s face. Cregan bows his head; but he’s already looking at the Marlin .22 that hangs by its leather strap from Aegon’s shoulder. “No, I promised, I promised! I promised I wouldn’t let him die alone!”

“He’s not alone,” Aemond tells you, and he doesn’t let go when you struggle, when you scream. Burning sunlight floods over you, and you are in the parking lot. Rhaena and Daeron are shooting down zombies as they lurch towards the grocery store, drawn by the commotion, the symphony of the dead and dying. Luke is using a siphoning hose to fill the Tahoe’s tank with the remaining fuel in the Ford Expedition. Helaena is moving their supplies into the Tahoe, weeping softly to herself, her long ghost-pale hair flowing in the desert wind.

The racks, you think, you remember. You can see Helaena shining the flashlight into your eyes like you’re back on a living room floor in Iowa. I forgot to remind Rio to check under the racks. And now he’s gone.

You’re screaming that it’s your fault as Aemond forces you into the Tahoe, and you don’t care what anyone says to you: Luke trying to tell you that’s not true, Rhaena swearing that you’re safe now. There is a gunshot from inside the grocery store. Your heart and lungs have turned to iron like the anchor of a ship, cold and still and heavy, unmovable, unbearable. You cannot breathe through your sobs; you cannot see, cannot speak. You curl up on a seat and wish you were dead. All your life you have been compelled by a blind belief that there are better places even if you cannot imagine them, that sometimes when it feels like the world is ending the only way out is through. For the very first time, you want to give up. You want to let all the poisons of this earth seep into your bloodstream until they stop your pulse and everything goes quiet, quiet, quiet.

Aemond is pouring bottles of water over you so he can wash away the blood and sand and gore. He is searching your skin for bitemarks. People are climbing into the Tahoe and a key turns in the ignition. The wheels are spinning; shadows fall over your face through the windows as you sail beneath overpasses. You hear voices but not words. You feel Aemond’s hands on you and do not flinch away.

Someone is putting pills in your mouth and telling you to swallow. “What is it?” you ask.

“Tramadol,” Aegon says. “It will take you somewhere else.”

And it does, this poison he doesn’t know you are starving for; it erases the future and the past until you don’t exist, you never have, and this is a relief.

~~~~~~~~~~

Glimpses through fogged vision, disjointed flashes like dreams: Aemond cleaning and suturing Cregan’s arm, Helaena’s fingers threading through Ice’s shaggy grey fur, smoke from smoldering Marlboro Golds billowing from Aegon’s lips and out through an open window, coyotes watching the Tahoe pass from the shoulder of the highway, mountains and barbed wire, clouds and useless power lines, land that turns from flat and vast and vacant to steep hills thick with pine trees, so many they block out the sun.

You are dimly aware that the Tahoe is stopping frequently, long lulls to hunt for gasoline in small towns, one gallon here, three gallons there, discussions over which routes to take as Aegon scrutinizes his map. Aemond is always with you, coaxing you to take sips of Gatorade and nibbles of Ritz crackers, feeding you spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup straight from the can, and each night when you fall into numb unconsciousness in a dead stranger’s bed he sleeps on the floor in case you need him, and eventually you do. You jolt awake from a nightmare, not death but cursed immortality, a bite he missed somehow that turned you into a monster, into a murderer, your raw skin and muscles sloughing off your bones.

“You’re fine, you’re fine, look at your hands,” Aemond says, taking your wrists and holding them gently. “No bites. You’re going to be okay, I promise. Hey, hey…” He cradles your face, he pleads for you to believe him. “I swear to God, you’re going to be okay.”

“It should have been me,” you whisper in the red glow of the candlelight. “I don’t have a family that would miss me if I was gone.”

“Yes you do,” Aemond says fiercely; and it takes your drugged, horrorstruck mind a moment to realize who he means.

The next day the Tahoe runs out of gas, and you know this because Aemond wakes you with a palm resting lightly on your forehead and an apology sighed through your hair. “What’s wrong?” you murmur.

“We have to get out and walk for a while. Can you do that?”

You force yourself to sit up, blinking at him. “Where are we?”

“Kingvale, California. In the Sierra Nevada Mountains.”

“We’re going to the beach house,” you realize.

“Yeah,” Aemond says, smiling a little. “Yeah, we are. We’re going home.”

On Donner Pass Road, following in the centuries-old footsteps of doomed westward migrants, someone always walks with you as you shuffle along in a daze. Aemond tells you about California, Rhaena reads aloud from Mockingjay, Ice licks your knuckles, Aegon talks endlessly about golf and yachting even when you can’t respond. His burned leg is still bandaged, but healing, and he’s found a Converse sneaker a few sizes too big to wear on his left foot; Aemond treats and wraps his wounds each morning and night, and Rhaena observes and takes notes so she can learn how to do it.

One afternoon just north of Beale Air Force Base, Daeron sneaks a Marlboro Gold out of Aegon’s backpack when no one is watching and lights it as he lingers in the back of the group. Aegon smells the smoke immediately and whirls, runs to him, snatches the cigarette from between Daeron’s lips and stomps it into the pavement.

“You’re not going to be like me!” Aegon shouts at him in the middle of the road. “Goddammit, you’re going to be safe, and you’re going to be happy, and you’re going to know that people care about you because I’ll break your fucking arm if I ever see you smoking again. You don’t get to poison yourself. You’re going to live to be a hundred years old. Got it?”

“Got it,” Daeron echoes, startled, petrified; and then Aegon hugs him, hanging on for a very long time.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is midnight in Meridian, a miniscule town founded in the 1850s on the banks of the Sacramento River, a relic from a time when travel meant ferries and railroads and wagon trains. Here, well outside the state capital, there are no sounds except the breeze through the trees—blue oaks, sycamores, willows, white alders—and the hoots of owls. The house is old, built in the 1950s or 60s, creaking steps and a screened-in front porch where Cregan and Daeron are playing Uno while keeping watch. The moon is new and invisible. The stars are bright.

Aemond appears in the doorway of your room. You are on the edge of the bed and staring at the wallpaper, flickering candlelight and scenes of galloping horses. Aemond is not letting you have any more Tramadol. He’s also not letting anyone load your Beretta, although you saw a box of 9mm bullets in Helaena’s burlap messenger bag. Maybe he’s worried you’ll try to shoot yourself. Maybe he’s not too far off.

He closes the door, crosses the room, and sits down on the bed beside you. In the firelit quiet, Aemond says: “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I can’t stay here. Take me somewhere else.”

At first, he doesn’t understand what you mean. Then you reach for him—for a life raft, for something to tether you to the earth—and the lines of your palm press against his scar, flesh he stitched back together himself, proof he can heal people, a reminder of how temporary any of you could be. Aemond lays his hand over yours and closes his eye, holding you there against his face, feeling your warmth and your forgiveness, your need to be close to him in a way that is suddenly so uncomplicated. There is no fear left in you. Perhaps there’s nothing left at all.

Aemond kisses you, and there are blooms of golden light through your darkness like what you call lightning bugs and he says are fireflies. You are entangled on the bed together, and all the sounds still ricocheting in your memory—screams, gunshots, bloodlust, hunger, anarchy—fade until they cease to exist. He is touching you, and you can feel lost pieces of yourself returning to you like rain soaking through parched earth, faith and resolve and desire. And now, and now…

Now Aemond is taking you far, far, far away, to bottomless blue water you can drown in, to where Diego Garcia lies marooned in the middle of the Indian Ocean, to the sun-glinting waves off the coasts of Chinhae, Corpus Christi, Key West, the Horn of Africa. He is between your thighs, and you want him through the pain, a razor-sharp fullness that seems so immaterial and so fleeting; and you lie to him over and over again because if he knows he’s hurting you he’ll stop, and in this world one cannot assume there will be second chances. Aemond stills once he’s inside you, giving you time to adjust but also overwhelmed by the intensity of it, his hands in your hair and trembling all over, kissing your face as the pain bleeds away and leaves a shade of craving you’ve never felt before, something deep and indistinct, something intangible like a spell or a myth. You move first, rolling your hips with a slow, cautious rhythm, and only then does Aemond follow you. It’s in his voice, in the reverence of his hands, in his iris like a clear secretless sky; you have taken him far away too.

“I love you,” Aemond says afterwards as his head rests on your belly, your fingers tangled in his damp hair and your skull hushed like calm seas. “And I can’t pretend I don’t anymore.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to.”

And in the morning, there is something different about the world: a hopefulness that makes you want to wake up, a radiance like moonlight on the wave crests of the Indian Ocean.

[kanmom51]

I’ve read theories that Jimin and JK split up at some point in 2018 as well as mid 2019, late 2019/2020, basing this off certain moments in Run BTS, JM travelling without JK in the summer 2019, the rumours, the behind the scenes of ON and Black Swan and the Grammys in 2020.

I know they have tense moments and to me that makes them real, all couples fight. But do you think there is any truth to just how bad it got that they broke up?

Thanks

Hey love.

I will start by saying this is my opinion I am voicing here. Based on full original content I have watched. Full episodes or clips.

I think that these assumptions or conclusions people came to based on a couple of few seconds moments we see in clips are problematic to say the least.

Let's start with that word - split up or break up. That is a very heavy term. I don't know what your relationship experience is (I just mention this because I don't know if you are single, have had a long term loving relationship, are in one or otherwise), but a long term healthy relationship usually does not include multiple break ups. A break up has a finality to it. Parting ways. Calling quits. Dissolving the relationship or ending it. And taking a step like that again and again and again, well that would take a toll on the relationship itself over time.

Also, breaking up, a love as strong as what we think these two have, it would show. Much more than what people think they see as evidence for such a breakup.

And when I say show, I mean more like what we saw back in September 2016 in what people love to call the Manila fight. The level of distance, clear anger and displeasure with the other, unhappiness that you can see in their expressions when they are not on stage or attempting to be professional, and this not being on one day, one clip, one event alone, but spread over a period of time.

And may I add that this happened pretty much in the relatively early days of their relationship, not 3 or 4 or 5 years in. The longer the relationship, the stronger the relationship, the deeper the relationship, the harder and more painful the break up.

And you see, this is the thing.

Healthy long term relationships aren't like a soap opera. Their real lives are not The bold and the beautiful, getting together 'love of their lives' style, then breaking up, marrying someone else, only to get back together and so forth time after time. Real life isn't like that. A relationship, a healthy one, cannot survive that constant turn on turn off. And it's even harder to turn on turn off in the speed that people are attributing to them. Love is not a switch you can turn on and off. And 2 people that supposedly love each other and basically can't keep their hands off each other moments before or moments after that supposed few second moment that makes people think they are not together anymore, is not realistic to say the very least.

And as far as I can see, their relationship is not a tumultuous one. Quite the opposite (especially once they got over that push and pull in 2015-16).

Now, with saying all that, couples, they argue, they fight, they wake up one morning in a bad mood, they allow external factors to influence their mood and at times their interactions with their loved one. Life happens. And these are a real life couple, even if they are 2 members of BTS, the biggest band in the world.

Not every argument or fight ends in the finality of a break up. Not every time you are mad at your partner or even pissed to the bone at them, do you split up.

As individuals we can have bad days. And that can affect our behaviour even towards those we love. Human interactions is what it is.

So, could we catch them unhappy with each other on camera from time to time?

Of course we can.

Can we see them being passive aggressive with each other? Mad at the other? Just unhappy or mad period (not necessarily at the other but in a bad mood that effects their interactions with anyone and everyone around them)?

Of course we can.

None of that is automatically proves a break up. None of it.

A couple of examples of instances we KNOW that one of them was pissed at the other.

Summer package 2018, the dream catcher necklace drama.

Basically JM pissed at JK not wanting to wear it as a necklace and guess who had that necklace on a second later...

And what about the NJ live 2019? JK pissed that JM and Jin turned off the live just as he got to Jin's room, starting his own live to show us that JM came to ask for forgiveness after being scolded by JK.

Neither relationship ending differences (although that could also depend on the relationship I guess), but examples of 'arguments' or differences they had that we know of because they either happened on camera or they told us of them themselves.

Another time we see them clearly upset at each other is the Gayo song festival Dec 2016. Clearly something going on, but we don't know what.

And here too, only days after the event, all was well between them, JK making his babe laugh while imitating Rainism's dance moves.

Point being, once again - yes they argue, get mad at each other (and 2016 was peak push and pull between the two, laying the grounds for their relationship), but from there to calling quits... nope.

And there would be many other moments we are unaware of. Cause that's just how relationships are. Loving each other doesn't mean agreeing on every single thing. It would many times mean compatibility (for a long term relationship to last), but compatibility doesn't mean being a mould of each other.

Now specifically to the examples you mention:

2018 Jikook were stronger than ever. This is after their Tokyo trip, which they just would not shut up about. You can see them in interviews, in award shows, in other footage from that time (including BV 3 in Malta). I really do not understand where these rumours of a break up at that time are coming from.

Saying that, I am aware that there are those that think that part of the struggles the members were going through in 2018 that almost let to them disbanding also included JM and JK splitting up. I beg to differ. At least from the content we have from 2018 (I don't claim to have inside info going back to 2018 and the status of their relationship). I actually believe that having each other during that time made it easier for them to deal with the hardships (kind of like how JK being by JM's side helped him deal with everything he was going through in 2020, and JM being there, as much as he could under the circumstances, for JK who was struggling early 2023). Throughout the content (official and unofficial) from 2018, start to end, we see how close and utterly in love they are with each other.

See beginning to mid 2018 Jikook interactions in my 2018 timeline.

And things were no different in the second half of the year.

All this happened in 2018:

Could they have had ups and downs?

Of course they could have. All long term relationships have those, even the best of them. But again, split up or broken up? Nope, not in my opinion.

Then we have the 2019 break up claims.

I think that if JK and JM were not together in 2019 during the time the band were on a break that JM wouldn't have made the effort and flown all the way back to see him for his birthday, nor would JK tattoo that J over the M right after that.

I think that JM going on those trips was them allowing each other that time to spend with their friends doing the things they want to do on their time off. That's what you call a healthy relationship btw. Allowing each other to grow as an individual, spend time with your friends, travel cause that's what you love to do, something that we learnt back in 2018 Malta that isn't something that JK really loved to do back in the day - could have changed, as people grow and change, but at the time didn't really interest him (perhaps especially seeing it wouldn't be the two of them alone).

We know from Hobi and JK that it's not like the two (JK and JM) weren't seeing each other or getting together over the break. It's only that JM went travelling and JK didn't.

And btw, these three were basically the only ones that did see each other over the break. If indeed the two broke up, would they be spending that time that they can together and not apart? Choosing to get together when they aren't obliged to do so being part of the band and having to work with each other?

And again, looking at 2019, before and after the break, the two seem stronger than ever. 2019 muster before, for example.

Damn that pic limit, I could go on with these forever.

And right after we had BV4,

And their final Seoul concerts October 2019.

Next you also mentioned the behind scenes of the Black swan MV shoot as an example used to claim that JM and JM were not together at the time.

Another good example to show you how this conclusion making is so ridiculous. They are literally taking one little moment from that MV shoot and creating a whole breakup narrative, all while from the same MV shoot we have the two full on having a flirt fest in front of our salads. Including that whole JM calling I love you to JK and him turning around all giddy-bashful.

SAME MV SHOOT.

Then you mention Grammy's 2020. First I've heard of them being broken up during that period. But let's look at what we have either from same night or the days before and after.

James Corden carpool karaoke January 2020. JM's excitement with JK's vocals and JK's incapable of keeping his eyes off JM.

Grammy's night

That moment there.

And for those that claim it isn't JM JK is looking at, well who's wittle nose is that turned towards JK?

Nope. No broken up couple detected.

I Heart Radio

Someone holding on real tight to his man.

When exactly did they have time to break up, with all the shit that entails with a break up and then get back together like nothing happened, all lovey dovey and hot for each other?

I will tell you when I find these rumours of breakup happen.

They happen when there isn't much group content and the two of them don't volunteer much, such as telling us about them spending time together or interacting on social media with each other (surprise surprise when two people are together that they don't interact on sm, even more so their public accounts). And god forbid they are seen with others out and about instead with each other. That for sure means they are not together anymore. Eye roll. Eye roll. Eye roll.

Bottom line, you're probably saying "about bloody time"...

In my opinion all this talk about multiple break ups (and btw, same people claiming a break up in early 2022 and then 2023) is a whole load of bs. Arguments, no doubt. Bad day, 100%. We all have those. But breaking up or even, if you wish to soften it a little by calling it "taking a break" - nope. I personally do not believe this to be the case.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: One Night Standards

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe reflects on the night before and confesses something to his teammates.

(Part two to - part 1, part 3)

Warnings: Angst, mentions of hookups

Pairing: Joe Burrow x *athletic trainer* reader

imagine Universe: Misc.

————————————————————————-

September 12, 2022

Slowly waking up, I rubbed my eyes. After wiping the sleep from them, my entire body halted when I realized what happened last night…

I hooked up with y/n, even with knowing her reputation.

Over the month of her working with the Bengals, I thought we'd become good friends. I spent a few lunches in her office, and all the guys made jokes to me about my relentless flirting.

Our night together just felt different. It didn't feel like a casual fuck. It felt like making love.

We cuddled for a bit after, with her lying on my chest, giggling as I pressed little kisses on her forehead and cheeks.

Yesterday was my first start of the season, coming off of an appendectomy. We lost, but one thing led to another, and I ended up at y/n’s place.

We were just supposed to hang out like we'd done a few times before, but it ended in one of the most emotional, whiplash-filled nights of my life.

Like I said, the sex was amazing because it was soft and giggly. After was even better as we just stared into each other’s eyes and talked about anything we could think of.

I thought it would lead to a possible confession of feelings or maybe even just a date, so when the quite opposite happened, not only did I feel disappointed, but I also felt used.

“Listen. This has been nice, Joe. but let's just stick to the one-night standards.” - you

“Oh… I- I what?” - Joe

“I don't want a number you're not gonna answer. I don't care about the morning after or if you're even here when I wake up.” - you

“I don't want that…” - Joe

“What do you want then?” - you

“To take you out, be more than just co-workers that flirt at work.” - Joe

“Can't you just use me like I'm using you?” - you

I left right after that, immediately pulling away from her arms and jumping out of bed. After putting my clothes on, I left her apartment and slammed the door behind me.

Her words hurt. I'd never been rejected before because I'd only dared to ask a girl out a couple of times.

Those stupid fucking “one-night standards”.

——

“What do you mean you hooked up with y/n?! Joe, we told you to do the exact opposite!” - Sam

“Fuck… I know! It was just that I liked her, and she matched my energy so much that I thought she might've liked me too.” - Joe

“Yeah. Are you okay? It was obvious that you liked her. It has to hurt after she pulled that.” - Ja’Marr

“I think I will be eventually, but it does hurt. I just feel used, you know? She basically told me I was nothing more than a one-night stand.” - Joe

“The way she looked at you doesn't match up to any of that. I thought you would end up being more to her than that.” - Sam

“Me too…” - Joe

A second later Tee rushed up to the table.

“Guys… I was eavesdropping outside of Nick’s office, and I heard him talking to y/n about something.” - Tee

“What's something?” - Joe

“You, Joe. They were talking about you.” - Tee

————————————————————————-

Authors note: 👀👀👀👀. I'm in love with this mini-series!!

Hope you enjoyed! 🤍💕

[alexiasleftoversalmon]

The Tie that Binds

Word count: 799 (idk if that’s bad)

Warnings: none

---------------------------------------------------------

Prologue

Wednesday, September 4th, 8:30 am

Ana’s POV

I woke to the blaring noise of my alarm - I needed to get up for school. Even though I changed it to another tone so it’s not the basic one, it isn’t better. I open my eyes and see a small streak of sunlight peeking through the curtains. Five more minutes, I tell myself. I lay in bed, stretched, grabbed my water bottle, and scrolled through my social media to wake myself up. 

Once the clock read 8:35, I had to get up. I rolled out of bed, went over to my curtains, and opened them to let the light in. There’s something about natural light that is so peaceful to me. I wish I could take my classes outside, but they are in lecture halls inside, with barely any windows, unfortunately. However, I can do my homework in the courtyard! That is something to look forward to. Luckily, class ends for me at 2 pm today. I am only taking three this semester, so I can have time to be with my horse instead of being drowned by homework all the time. 

After I made my bed, I walked over to my desk chair, where I put my clothes for the day. It’s an off-white baby T-shirt, black jeans with small rips, and white high-tops. I quickly put my outfit on and got started on my morning routine. Sitting down on my desk chair, I put on my LED mirror (I use my desk as both a workspace and a vanity) and started my skincare. Once done, I brushed my hair and put it back into a loose braid. Rummaging through my makeup drawer, I eventually find which products I want to use and put a small amount on. I don’t put on a lot of makeup in general, but I put an even smaller amount on if I know I’m going to the barn after my classes end. After grabbing my jewelry and school bag, I leave my room and head downstairs for breakfast. 

“Buenos dias, hija!” my mami said to me when I walked into the kitchen. “Hola mami!” I replied as I gave her a kiss on the cheek, and headed to the fridge. I wanted to make a strawberry banana smoothie before I left for school. I grabbed all the things I needed to make it and headed over to the corner of the kitchen counter where the blender was. After putting all the ingredients in there, I clicked the smoothie button and watched all the fruit flow together. While waiting for it to be done, I reached into my back pocket and put on my horseshoe necklace. 

“You know your papi wanted to give that to you on your 16th birthday, right? He was so happy when you fell in love with horses, he wanted you to have something to wear to remind you of them.” mami said as she walked to stand next to me. He wanted to give it to me but never had a chance to. “Of course I know, mami, how could I forget? It was such a special moment for me. It actually reminds me more of him than it does horses.” I reply with a sad smile. “Oh, he loved you so much, hija. I hope you know that.” she replied with a sigh. “Yes, mami, I know.” I say with a sigh as I turn off the blender and open the lid. 

“What’s wrong Ana? I can see it in your face.” My mami says as she opens the cabinet to hand me a glass. “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s hard for me to talk about my love for Papi, when Alexia loved him so much.” I say as I pour the smoothie in my glass. “Hija, we all loved him so much. Just because Papi introduced Ale to futbol, doesn’t mean you or Alba’s love for him is any less.” Mami replies as she kisses my cheek. I smile and sit down at the kitchen island and drink my smoothie as I scroll through social media. Of course I see the videos of the Barcelona girls training and prepping for the match against Deportivo this Saturday. It’s an away match, so I don’t think I will go. I’m not sure that I will come to any of her matches in the near future. Our sisterly bond hasn’t been the greatest as of late, she’s been very cold towards me, and I don’t know why. However, Alba and I are good as can be. 

Once I finished my smoothie, I went to the sink to wash the glass. I gathered my things together and kissed my mami goodbye. I walked down the porch steps, got in my car, and drove to another day of university. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is my first fic out on here! Thank you so much for reading; if you did, let me know what you think! Also, big thanks to my bestie @foxy-2 for encouraging me to post this fic!

[marimayscarlett]

17 years of "Emigrate" 💿🎶

Today, Richard's first Emigrate album with the title "Emigrate" was published 17 years ago on the 31st of August, 2007. Additional release dates were the 29th of January, 2008 for the US and the 2nd of February, 2008 for Australia.

Recordings for the album took place in Germany, the USA and Denmark, mainly at the Studio Engine 55 in Berlin and New York. Singing and guitar were done by Richard, Arnaud Giroux played bass and Henka Johansson played drums, Olsen Involtini contributed additional guitar sounds and Sascha Moser, the former drummer of Orgasm Death Gimmick, took care of Logic and Pro Tools. Same as several Rammstein albums, this album was produced by Jacob Hellner.

Before the album was released, and even before the promotional CDs were manufactured, the band held a vote on their website. Fans were able to choose which song they wanted to hear in its entirety, after the release of Wake Up. The vote was won by Babe. After that a promotional snippet CD was released, which included both songs in full, but both songs were slightly different versions from the ones later released on the album.

When the CD was released, several promotional sheets were included, among them an interview with Richard. Here he answered question as himself as well as his alter ego "Emigrate", both knew each other for a while and could work well together as they had similar styles and were interested in each other's work. A bit of a peculiar concept, but kind of endearing. The sheets are in german, here is an english translation of this interview.

Here you can see the standard edition inlay, the CD design as well as the alternative cover:

In this interview from one day before the release, Richard explains what kind of meaning the name "Emigrate" has for him and how he came up with it:

Interviewer: And behind this term EMIGRATE, what is the emotional meaning behind it? We know that you chose this name because you went to New York, but...?

Richard: I am someone who wants to be extremely independent. So this project is an emotional release for me. You're constantly faced with fears in your life, and I think there was a certain person waiting inside of me who also wanted to lead her own project, wanted to sing - basically just wanted to be the center of attention. To actually do that in the end, or not to do it, to have to do it, to deal with the public and so on, that certainly has something to do with fear. People always talk a lot, but often don't realize their ideas because they're simply afraid they won't be able to hold their own in the end. I'm glad that I did it.

Interview: Was the name EMIGRATE your preferred name from the beginning or did you also have other name ideas?

Richard: I think names come to you at some point. Searching doesn't help much. At some point I found a piece of paper on the street in New York with “EMIGRATE” written on it. Somehow I thought this word basically described my current state, not only physically but also mentally. Emigrating from my home country, emigrating from the band RAMMSTEIN...it all made sense somehow.

Emigrate entered the German album charts on September 14, 2007 at number 8 and in the following weeks it reached positions 28 and 50, remaining in the Top 100 for a total of five weeks. The song "My world" appeared on the Resident Evil: Extinction - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack.

Two songs were released as singles: "New York City" on the 12th of October, 2007, and "Temptation" on the 7th of March, 2008.

Little personal addition, since this is my favourite Emigrate album and one of my favourite albums ever - here are my three favourite songs from it:

Sources: 1 2 3 4

[slexenskee]

New No Scrubs Album dropping in a chapter near you ✨

Holiday - Green Day

Cherub Rock - Smashing Pumpkins

Cool Enough - (Mayonaise) Smashing Pumpkins

1979 - Smashing Pumpkins

Island in the Sun - Weezer

Wake Me Up - (Wake Me Up When September Ends) Green Day

Yeah I was really feeling SP on this one but what can I say Siamese Dream is one of my favorite albums ever. I especially love it for reasons like this review on Rolling Stones: "But the result, on Siamese Dream, is a rock band that sounds 200 feet tall but also doesn’t quite sound like a functioning rock band. It sounds like a morbid, tyrannical, outrageously talented person imagining a rock band in his head. There’s an unembarrassed enormity, but also a crushing loneliness radiating from the guy who wants you to know that he’s almost single-handedly responsible for that enormity." Like is that not literally what Gojo is doing with No Scrubs?? I just loved that irony.

I will shamelessly say Mayonaise is my favorite song in this entire fic and okay hear me out there's a reason for it. So Billy Corgan (SP frontman and writer) is on record admitting Mayonaise is a nonsense song full of one-liners he just thought sounded cool at the time. BUT then he's also on record two decades later conceding that every time he sings it now he's shocked by how unabashedly reflective it is of the loneliness and sadness he'd been going through at the time. Basically, he incepted himself this entire time. He really just thought it was a bunch of nonsense he threw together to sound good, but it turns out he was really trying to describe how difficult it is to not only fit in with the rest, but also come to terms with who you are.

And then here's Gojo who's, like, loved this song since childhood and is putting it on an album and convincing himself 'oh it's just a song I really like because it sounds cool' - when in reality he loves that song so much because it's such a reflection on himself and what he's been through, and it's a deeply personal experience to him. And years from now when he sings it with No Scrubs on a reunion tour or something he's gonna be like 'Oh shit. I thought this was just a nonsense song I borrowed from someone else who also thought it was nonsense, but this song has actually been about me all along.'

Even better - he chooses to sing it to Hawks, specifically, in a deeply personal manner, and his logic at the time is that it's a cool song that he really likes on their new album and a good one to show off. But on a subconscious level he chose it because it's a song he identifies with so profoundly, and the same part of him that sees the similarities between himself and Hawks also chose it because subconsciously he considers it a song for Hawks as well.

Island in the Sun is the one that all the fans (and Hawks lol) automatically assume is about Hawks, for obvious reasons, but Mayonnaise is really the one that makes Gojo think of him.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

why’d you only call me when you’re high

🤍 100 follower event 🤍

hey I’m bella!! if you’re new my intro post is here

I genuinely cannot believe I’m at 100 followers, it’s literally mental!! like sorry, how on earth did that happen?? anyways I want to thank each and every one of you for following me, for all the support and comments and likes, just basically for everything. so many people have just been so so sweet, making my days for a while now!! I didn’t even expect to have 10 followers when I started this blog, let alone 100 so THANK YOU 🤍🤍

if you have requested a fic, it will probably be put on hold or take longer due to this event!! sorry for the inconvenience but I will get around to writing them all I promise

followers:

potion approaching // oh, but if we're gonna escape though, we really ought to think it through

I’ll write a short one-shot of your request (nothing weird and be specific please)

teddy picker // let’s have a game on the teddy picker, not quick enough can I have it quicker, already thick and you're getting thicker

I’ll give you an arctic monkeys song based on your blog

do I wanna know? // do I wanna know, if this feeling flows both ways

ask me something and I’ll answer (nothing too invasive please)

I bet that you look good on the dance floor // I don't know if you're looking for romance or, I don't know what you're looking for

I’ll give you a fantasy-like ballgown based on your blog

fake tales of san francisco // yeah, but his bird said it's amazing though, so all that's left, is the proof that love's not only blind, but deaf

I will try, notice how I said try and give you a good book recommendation based on things you love (please be specific with genre or mention a title that you want to find something like)

fluorescent adolescent // like her gentleman not to be gentle, is it a Mecca dauber or a betting pencil

I’ll ship you with a fictional character I think you’re most compatible with (please tell me your type, personality, sexuality and any other facts you want me to know, if you’re comfortable with that)

pretty visitors // all the pretty visitors came and waved their arms, and cast the shadow of a snake pit on the wall

I’ll write down the first word that comes to mind when looking at your blog aesthetic

do me a favour // and do me a favor, and ask, if you need some help she said, do me a favor, and stop flattering yourself

I’ll give you a sweet treat based on your blog

moots only:

this house is a circus // this house is a circus berserk as f*ck, we tend to see that as a perk

a moodboard and headcannons of what we’d do if we met up in real life

knee socks // well, you cured my January blues, yeah you made it all alright, I've got a feelin' I might have lit the very fuse, that you were tryin' not to light

I’ll tell you my favourite thing about you

old yellow bricks // she said, "I want to sleep in the city that never wakes up and revel in nostalgia"

I will write a one shot for you about whatever you want and specify with your name (if you want that)

D is for dangerous // you should know you're his favourite worst nightmare

I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me

R U mine? // I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be, and satisfaction feels like a distant memory, and I can't help myself, all I wanna ever say is, "are you mine?"

a paragraph describing you how much I love you

rules:

one request or ask per day

only followers and moots please

I might not be able to get loads and loads done in one day so please be patient with me

ends on 3rd of september

if you send an ask/request that is rude or weird or I feel uncomfortable with, it will be ignored

tagging:

@wish-i-were-heather

@heartwithsimplenotes

@never-enough-novels

@tornqdowarnings

@maybxlle

@inmyheaddd

@arias-archive

@nqds

@lxvebelle

@whatsamongus

@emelia07

@jkriordanverse

I know I don’t know some of my moots that well but hopefully I can’t get to know you more through this 🤭🤭

[queerofcups]

an August rec list

August Rec List

Why yes it is nearly the end of September and I’m just now posting my August Rec List. I’ve been busy!

Hockey RPF

come stitch me up

E | 10k | addandsubtract

Sometimes he wakes up sucking on his fingers, rutting his hips into the bed. He’ll be right on the edge of coming, the wet head of his dick trapped between his hips and the sheets, but he can’t, he can’t, not without – not without something pushed up inside, something stretching him open.

Hey man, I barely know who these players are. Is this kind of a horror story? Yes! Is it also very hot smut! Yuuuup. This is what I mean when I’m begging people not to try to explain away the dub in dubcon. Someone should be calling a doctor, an exorcist, a therapist etc. But instead, because this is fanfic, they whip their dicks out! It's great!

Interview with The Vampire

monstrous servant

Armand/Louis

E | 5k | inthebelltower

The old itch never goes away. It never feels less good to scratch.

inhuman taste

Armand/Louis

E | 1k | inthebelltower

Louis can’t help it; he wants to eat him up.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Louis as a dom as I’m writing my own WIP and this fic and the next were really instrumental in shaping my own ideas of how Louis is with Armand. I really think this and the next fic act as a great picture of the two sides of their relationship.

not a ruse, not heat

Armand/Louis

M | 872 | inthebelltower

Louis drinks from Armand’s neck. Somewhere in the compound a clock is ticking.

Let me tell you diary (islands)

Claudia/Madeline, Louis/Lestat 

T | 4k | anonymous

Basically, Claudeleine don't return to Paris, don't fall for the trap, and just travel to wherever the X leads them... until…

In Sickness and In Health

Louis/Lestat

M | 3k | anonymous

“Sure, okay,” Louis huffs softly, “one coffee, why not.”

They’re engaged again by November. Claudia calls Louis the moment she finds out and scolds him for fifteen minutes straight. Hear me out, Louis barely gets the words out before she hangs up on him. Five times he tries to call her back.

Of mercy, with choice 

Louis/Lestat

E | 6k | shavir_light

“I always thought that your victims were truly fortunate, to be gifted with such an exhilarating death,” Lestat says, tangled in the messy sheets. “What bliss it must have been, to be killed by one so beautiful.”

Louis and Lestat play at a fantasy. It gets a bit out of hand.

The Things We DId and Didn’t Do

M | 3k | @marbleflan (they are on tumblr, but I can't tag them)

“You are thinking of him, maybe.”

Louis looks up. It’s like Lestat is speaking in another language and Louis is reading the subtitles on a delay, or something. He can make out the words but not the meaning, for a moment.

“What?” Then it clicks.

“Armand. You are touching me. In bed,” Lestat says, casual. Maybe too casual. “But you are thinking of him.”

Louis doesn’t say anything. There’s not really anything he can say. It’s true, in a way. Not that he’s literally thinking about Armand. Not consciously. But he’s assuming Armand: Armand’s desires, Armand’s preferences, Armand’s reactions. He’s holding Lestat, he’s thinking of Lestat, he’s hard for Lestat. But he’s treating him like Armand.

Wow I sure am reccing a lot of fic about Louis and BDSM, huh? Wonder what thats about. Anyway, I think this and the fics by shavir_light work as lovely little complements to each other. More thinking about how domming wasn’t just a thing for Armand, but was something that Louis participated in, enjoys and carries with him. I also enjoy thinking about how Louis and Lestat might fall back together once Louis is back in New Orleans, but they might not settle together quite as easily. Eighty years is a long time to be apart and of course people are going to pick up quirks and require adjustments. 

the body, not in stasis

Daniel/Louis

E | 1k | shavir_light

“The need to cares for your body is, in part, what tethers you to it. It’s a reminder, Daniel—that you are flesh and blood. That you are a human being,” Louis insists, in his usual verbose fashion, and Daniel can’t help but laugh as he turns to leave.

“Well, you’re welcome to come watch, if it’s so magical to you,” he says.

I think this is such a short, sweet meditation on bodies. It does the exact kind of thing I love fanfic to do, take a single point an original work makes — vampires’ bodily functions fundamentally change when they’re turned — and just has a think and does a little smut about it. I love it.

Want and Swallow and Keep

Louis/Lestat

E | 10k | shavir_light

Love, sex, possession. To Lestat, they’re all the same thing.

So this could be perfect; Louis could decide what they do, control Lestat’s actions. He could make Lestat work for it, earn Louis’ trust again by way of obedience. Louis could restrain him from doing something—something bad.

So interesting to be in such disagreement about what a fic is and how we’re supposed to take it. I think this fic is a great example of the ways Lestat and Louis treat each other poorly, and get off on it! shavir_light makes it clear that they see one party clearly in the wrong and one not. I just think it's so fun that we’re able to have such different perspectives on the same work. 

Harry Potter

New Gods

Harry/Sirius 

E | 4k | @thecouchsofa

It rocks Sirius to his core every time he thinks about it, because they aren’t the same – Harry and James.

Sure, Harry pushes his glasses up with the knuckle of his pointer finger. James used to do the same thing when he had dirt or sugar or random potion essence on his hands. Other people do that too. Sirius has never seen it, but they do.

I like a fic where people are having relationships that are complicated, or they “shouldn’t” be having them for whatever reason. I like the ambiguity of this fic and how Sirius is trying to insist, to us and to himself, that the ambiguity doesn’t matter when it certainly does.

Wield Me

Harry/Draco, Pre-Harry/Draco/Teddy

E | 10k | @tackytigerfic

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?)

A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

Home Truths

E | 67k | @fantalfart, @skeptiquewrites

In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him. A demanding career and unrelenting press scrutiny were enough to deal with before Harry added a house with a mind of its own, family history, and a tense, flirty, complicated relationship with his childhood nemesis to the mix.

On professional Quidditch, magical houses, hard choices, Life Debts, and inconvenient truths.

Honestly, this fic, to me, is more of a lovely character study than a romance. There’s a good bit of fic that Draco barely appears in but we get to learn more about Harry’s job (y’all know i’m a sucker for any fic where Harry’s not an auror) and the whole world feels very lived in. 

Wonderful Anything

E | 24k |  harDEEhar / @dryrsheet

They were birds of a feather, he and Draco: the pathetic bastards in love and apart.

I can hardly believe this fic is only 24k. I read the next fic immediately after this one because they both manage to offer worlds that feel so full, just from what we learn while watching people fall in love. I also love an unconventional relationship timeline, stories where people build their own lives and families they way they want and second/third/fourth tries until something finally clicks. There are just so many lovely details in this story, it really was one of the standouts of the month. 

Grounds for Divorce

E | 122k | @tepre

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

Oh God, I stayed up way too late reading this fic. Sometimes, I’ll just random think about this fic. I’ve reread it so many times. The writing is just gorgeous. The emotional character work is…is shocking in how wonderful and layered it is. It feels both so real and heightened at the same time. The whole story is cooking on high but once Harry and Draco get to the conference in Egypt? Baby, it's on flambé. I don’t know if this story is considered a classic in the Harry Potter fandom but it's quadruple platinum in my household. 

[highways-are-liminal-spaces]

are there really that many bears in Alaska? asking bc you often include a very cute bear in your photo sets

It depends what part of Alaska you're in!

Juneau is absolutely overrun with Black Bears. They move around a bit, so sometimes you won't see any for days at a time, but also if you live there long enough, you're basically guaranteed to encounter a few "trash bears" just poking around garbage cans right in the downtown area. They're the hardest to see when they first start waking up because they can be anywhere, but then they get much more consistent with certain food sources. Driving past the dump, you often see them rolling around in the adjacent fields. Throughout late spring, they like to graze on the wildflowers along the roadsides, and you can often see the really little cubs with them. When the salmon run starts later in the summer, there are a few spots you can go where bears are basically a guarantee. Throughout the first 2 weeks of August and then again in the first week of September (i.e. the chum and then the pink runs), I could think to myself "I want to go see the bears today" and go see the bears. On my best day last summer, I had a total of 12-13 (with one that might have been the same bear twice).

We don't really get Brown Bears in Juneau—they show up every so often, but mostly if you want to see them in the area (and you should, because they're the really cool giant ABC Islands Bears, which are almost as big as Kodiak Bears), you need to head out to one of the islands like Admiralty, which has the world's highest bear: human population ratio (3:1!).

When I lived in Anchorage over a summer, I saw no bears around the city (though people often do!) and had to drive down the Kenai to see any Black Bears that whole year. They get Brown Bears down toward Seward and Homer too, but pretty rarely, and I've never seen one around there. On the other hand, I've never been to Denali and not seen multiple Brown Bears. And then any location you would go on trips specifically to see bears because of a seasonal food source like a salmon run (e.g. Katmai, Pack Creek by Juneau, Fish Creek in Hyder, Kodiak, Lake Clark, etc. (though I haven't done those last two yet)) will have dozens of bears around during the season.

And then there are some parts of the state (Interior and Far North) where bears are common but there is just so much space for them that you're less likely to encounter them. I have been hiking around Fairbanks a decent amount and, while you definitely have to take serious bear country precautions, I've never actually seen a bear around there. I've driven the whole Dalton Highway twice, where Brown Bears are very common, and I've only seen one over the course of a total of 8 days and almost 2000 miles covered. The Alcan route I drive on the other hand, which crosses Interior into Yukon, usually has bears—over the course of driving it three times, I've seen 5 Brown Bears and 3 Black Bears, and I've been told I had "pretty bad bear luck" on those trips (my friend Alex once had a single trip count of 9 Brown Bears and 7 Black Bears!).

I was trying to estimate the number of bears I have seen in Alaska, but it is essentially completely impossible. Definitely over 100 individuals of each species! Single days that stand out to me are that one 12 bear day in Juneau (that was at the Shrine during the end of the pink salmon run), one day driving the main road into Denali when we had a total of 22 Brown Bears and started having to drive right past them since we wanted to have time to look for other wildlife, and the only time I've been to Brooks Camp in Katmai, when we had a conservative estimate of 48 total Brown Bears.

This turned into a very long answer (can you tell I love talking about bears!) but basically: tl;dr yes there are a metric fuckton of bears in Alaska.

[cherryy-slushy]

Okay here me out, Yandereish reeader and JD where they are like really close and kind of flirty and then JD meets Veronica and Reader loses the absolute plot and you can choose what they do (but unhinged shit xo)-💃 (that’s my new emoji for requests 😜)

Omg I’m so here for this!!!

So I’m gonna let you, reader, choose a JD for this because I’m not sure which one the requester wanted 😘

(UPDATE: IM FUCKING STOKED! IM WRITING THIS LITTLE NOTE ON THE 25TH OF APRIL IM NOT SURE WHEN ITS GONNA BE FINISHED BUT WHILE IM WRITING THIS ITS LITERALLY LIKE 12 HOURS UNTIL IM GOING TO SEE HEATHERS IN DUBLIN ON THE 26TH! IM SO FUCKING STOKED!! WISH ME LUCK![if I get any photos with cast I’ll post them under the story but I’m scribbling my face out 😘 I don’t want any of my friends seeing this 👍)

I AM DAMAGED

*first person pov*

I’ve known Jason for a while now. We met in elementary and our dads are business partners. We basically spend every last second together. So when we found out we were moving again we weren’t too upset. I mean, yeah, I made friends. Jason however, not so much. I was sad to leave them but I’ll have JD with me.

*3rd person pov*

Y/N started to unload a moving truck outside her new house.

“Y/N? Where are you”, her dad shouted.

“Outside, dad!”, she shouted back.

“Ah, there you are. The Deans will be here shortly. I’ll give you a hand with those”, says her dad.

“Thanks, dad”, she smiled.

*time skip: 20 mins*

*knock knock*

Y/N goes to answer the door.

“That’s the Deans kiddo!”, her dad lightly shouts.

She opens the door and is greeted to Big Bud and Jason.

“Hi Y/N/N, your dad in?”, Bud says.

“Yep. Kitchen. Down the hall”, she says with a small grin.

Bud steps into the house and down the hall.

“Hey! Rory! How are ya?”, Bud says. It’s the last thing she hears before they close the door.

“Wanna small tour?”, Y/N turns to JD.

“I’m down, m’lady”, he says jokingly, bowing down to Y/N and sticking his hand out for her to grab.

“Why let’s go, kind sir”, she replies, grabbing his open hand and leading him into the house.

“Living room”, she says pointing into the room. “Hallway”, she walks up the stairs, JD trailing behind, still holding her hand. “Bathroom”, they walk towards another door. “My room, dads room and Thomas’ room”, she said, pointing to each door as they walk by.

Thomas is Y/Ns younger brother. He’s about 6 years younger. She’s 17, he’s 11.

“Here, follow me”, she smirks, grabbing his hand and pulling him to her bedroom.

“Look, window goes onto the kitchen roof. We should sneak out sometime”, she grins.

“I’m so down”, JD says with joking sternness.

“So”, she sighs plopping onto the bed. “First day of school tomorrow”

“Yep, dreading it. Westerburg high. I’ve heard some rumours”, he groaned.

“Oh yeah? Did you hear the one about the 2 dudes who are practically date rapists?”, she groans back.

“Nope. Heard about the heathers. 3 of them. All called heather. They’re, apparently, absolute bitches,” he complained.

“Yippee! Goodie gum drops”, she says with sarcastic excitement.

“Wanna ride in on the motorcycle?”, he asks, plopping down next to me.

“As long as you don’t kill me, sure”, she laughs.

They stay quite for a minute. Y/N turns to look at him. He’s already looking at her. She smiles awkwardly.

“Welp, i better go wake up Thomas”, she says while standing up.

“Oh yeah, I’ll come with ya”, Jason says following her.

Time skip (September 9th)

“GET UP KIDS”, Rory, Y/Ns dad yells.

“Ughhh”, Y/N groans while stretching to get up. “Fuck this shit I don’t wanna go to school”, she mumbles, dragging on the ‘ol’ at the end of ‘school’.

She starts to get dressed, brushes her hair, washes her face and brushes her teeth, and finally, gets breakfast.

“Someone seems happy to go to school”, Rory says, laughing at Y/N.

“Dont even start, dad. I’m already suicidal and I haven’t even gotten there yet”, she groans.

“Goodmorning!!”, Thomas says, skipping down the hall.

“Now, that, that’s excitement”, Y/N laughs grabbing her toast from the toaster.

Rory laughs. “Hey Tom, excited for your first day?”

“Hell yeah! I already met a boy who lives on this street whose in my class! He said I can hang out with him and his friends!”, he says excitedly.

“Time?”, Y/N asks.

“Quarter to eight, you better get heading”, Rory says, turning to look at Y/N.

“I will. When Jason gets here anyways. I’m going with him today”, She says, checking the window for JD.

“Alright, go wait in the living room”, Rory says.

She goes and sits in the living room and starts checking to make sure she has everything.

*Knock knock*

“JDS HERE! BYE DAD. BYE TOM. LOVE YOU BOTH”, Y/N yells, getting replies of “love you too” and “have a good day honey” in return.

“You ready to go?”, Jason asks, as Y/N opens the front door.

“Yep, let’s motor”, She says heading to the motorcycle.

She holds on to Jason’s torso as the fly through the little streets of Sherwood, until they arrive at the school.

“Come on, give me your hand”, JD says holding his hand out to Y/N.

She takes in a deep breath and takes Jason’s hand as they start to walk into the school.

She feels like everyone’s staring at her, but in reality, nobody is.

They go to the main office.

“Ah hello, you two must be Jason Dean and Y/N L/N, it’s lovely to meet you both”, the secretary looks down to their hands, “awh, are you two dating? That’s adorable”, she smiles.

“No, we’re just really close friends”, Jason laughed. Y/N laughed too.

“Awh what a shame, you would look lovely together. Anyways, your first class is the same. Both in Ms Flemings english”, she says while handing the pair their timetables.

They both mutter a ‘thanks’ and wish the secretary a good day and start to walk to class.

“She was funny”, Y/N says.

“Hah, yeah, she was”, Jason replies.

They walk into the class.

They’re early.

Ms Fleming is already there. Y/N and Jason introduce themselves.

“Ah! I’ve heard about new students! It’s so amazing to meet you two!”, she says happily.

‘She’s gonna be fun’, Y/N thinks.

“Sadly guys, there is a seating plan. So, you are gonna be away from each other. Jason you’ll be sitting here”, she says walking down to a seat near the middle in the 3rd row. “And Y/N you’ll be here”, she says walking to another seat a bit further back, in the 5th row, at the very edge, next to a window.

“Dont worry, I put you next to our best, nicest students. Jason, your next to Veronica, and Y/N your next to Jamie”, she says, clapping her hands together.

The bell goes off and in seconds the class starts to fill with students.

Y/N and Jason take their seats.

*Y/Ns first person POV*

After I sit down a boy takes the seat next to me.

That must be jamie

He looks at me weirdly, clearly trying to see if he’s seen me before.

“Hey”, he says.

“Oh, hi”, I say back returning a small smile.

“You new here?”, he asks.

“Yup, just came today”, I reply.

“Awh cool, you want me to help you around?”, he asks.

I completely forget about Jason and say: “yeah, that’ll be nice. I don’t really have anyone to help me around anyways”

“Ah! We’re gonna be best friends. I already know”, he smiles.

I smiled back.

He’s really nice

I look over towards Jason and see him talking to the girl next to him. That must be Veronica.

She’s really pretty….

WOW CALM DOWN Y/N HES YOUR BEST FRIEND HELLO?? YOU DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON JD STOP.

Jamie and I talk and laugh for a bit resulting in a few dirty flares from JD.

After class, Jamie and I walk out and I see Jason running up behind us.

I feel his arm wrap around me. “Hey”, he whispered into my ear. Wow.

“Oh, JD, hi! This is Jamie”, I said, smiling and pointing at Jamie.

“Hm”, Jason says, giving him that look.

“Well, hello to you too”, Jamie says with mock anger.

*time skip to lunch*

JD and I didn’t have the same classes after English. I had math with Jamie though, and Veronica was in my class. She kept glaring at me? It was very strange.

“Hey hey hey”, Jason says walking over to me. “Good first part of the day?”, he asked.

“Not to shabby. What about you?”

“The works”, he says.

“Hey, slushies after school today? On me”, he asks. “I’m down”, I reply, smiling.

“Hello Jason Dean”, I look up and see Veronica Sawyer smiling down at JD.

“Greetings and salutations”, He smirks.

I mentally cringed.

“I must say you’re very good in English”, she says sitting down next to him.

OKAY HELLO? WE WERE HAVING A CONVERSATION, BITCH.

“The extreme always seems to make an impression”, he somehow smirks even more.

“You busy after school”, she asks.

I want to shout at her saying he has plans with me. But I don’t.

“Nope, none”, he says.

What.

I sigh, not loud enough for him to hear.

I look around to see if I could go anywhere else. I see Jamie smiling at me, he sees i de him and waves me over.

Fuck it.

I get up and walk over to him. He’s with one other girl. She seems nice.

“Y/NNNN!”, Jamie yells.

“Hey”, I say, placing my bag down next to Jamie. “Y/N, this is Carrie, Carrie this is Y/N”, Jamie smiles.

“Hi, nice to meet you”, I say to Carrie. “Nice to meet you too! Welcome to Westerburg!”, she smiles.

I smile back at her.

I think this place is gonna change things..

[A/N] SO I POSTED THIS A MONTH AFTER HEATHERS… BUT I MET JACOB FOWLER, BILLY BOWMAN AND VERITY THOMPSON AHHHHHH

This will definitely have a part 2 btw! I needed to upload something so.. PART 1!!!

[chuwuyas]

about c&r

Hello my dear saioumers, it is I, jul chuwuyas. I wanted to stop by to talk a little bit about c&r since people ask me about it a lot

Unfortunately, to talk about it, I will have to dive into some personal stuff and share some things with you all that I've been keeping to myself for quite some time now and didn't really want to share, but felt like I needed to. So, since some stuff will be kinda, uh... serious? I will put everything under the cut

(TL;DR for those who don't wanna read about my personal life tho: c&r is NOT abandoned, but writer's block is not the only reason why I haven't updated the fic yet (tho it is one of them). I don't know when the hiatus will end. I'm sorry)

(CW for the things under the cut: mental illness, pet death, suicide ideation)

So, to start: yes, writer's block is one of the reasons why c&r is on hiatus. No, I have not been lying about it. I burned out so badly in 2021 that it's Still hard for me to write things that satisfy me because I reached my peak back then and was popping out 5, 6 fics in a month for 7/8 whole months when my usual is/was about 2 or 3 a year (if you check my ao3 page and the dates in which my fics were posted, you'll see that aside from the danganronpa fics, that usually was the case. I'm a slow writer). I'm still recovering. And the universe seems to not want me to.

Last year, around January, I felt like I was finally setting myself free from writer's block. I started writing something for my oc ship (yes, yes, I know. Not c&r. But what can I say? They bring me comfort) and I was so happy with what I got, so inspired to write, I was actually seeing the words on the doc again.

Then, one of my three cats got sick. Then, he died.

It completely broke me in a way I don't think I will ever recover. I was extremely attached to him and I drained all the money I had saved for therapy to try to save him, but it didn't work and I lost my cat, the money, and consequently my mental health. We spent almost an entire month taking him to the vet and bringing him back home because the vet kept telling us he was okay and then he'd get even worse and need hospitalization again, so that was more money spent on him. I had my friends help me with that, and I am immensely grateful even though it didn't work out in the end. Thank you for helping me bring him some comfort on his last days @ friendos.

After he died, a couple of months later, I tried writing again and managed to write a few thousand words, but my mental health still wasn't the best. Then, I started getting some personal problems that I will not talk about here but took a toll on me and shoved me back into the writer's block box, but now with the addition of increasingly growing self-doubt and depressive thoughts that soon turned suicidal.

Then, around September, another cat of mine got sick. And, this time, we didn't have money to help him.

He was my best friend. We basically grew up together (he was 13 and was born when I was 11, so I had him longer than I didn't have him) and I was also extremely attached to him. When he got sick, I would sit down on the floor and talk to him in tears asking him to hold on just until I got a job so I could pay for his bills. I didn't get a job fast enough to help him. It was me who found him, too.

From August to November, things were so bad in my life (between my personal life, my pets' deaths, and family members getting sick) I genuinely caught myself considering ending my suffering. Planning it. Thinking about it every day. Not wanting to wake up. It was a rough period of my life that I made it through alone because I didn't really tell anyone what was going on with me. I wished I could go back to the past. I wished I could change things to make the future not so bad. I'm still caught up in the past and nostalgic for a time that will not come back no matter how much I wish it would. But I pushed it through.

And one of the things that kept me from ending it all was the fact I haven't finished c&r yet.

I didn't wanna go without concluding the story. I didn't wanna go without showing you all what I have planned for the last chapter and how this story will end. So, I started using c&r as some sort of anchor — something to keep me going because I still have something to do on this earth before leaving. I love this story and I don't wanna leave it unfinished. I wanna see your reactions reading the last chapter, the freaking out, the key smashes, the DMs I'll receive, the theories, the fanarts. I love how big this story got and the little fandom it got for itself. People love something that I wrote so much they make art of it! They cosplay the characters, they write things based on it! It's so mindblowing that something like this would ever happen to me, I started telling myself: I can't die until I finish catch & release.

My mental health is way better now and I'm no longer considering suicide (though, ough, it sucks not having a lot of money). I have a job now and can pay for the vet in case my last cat gets sick. My personal life is good now, too, and my relative who's sick is doing a lot better. I have things to look forward to. Things are good now. I'm happy, though I still miss my cats every day.

I am, however, still using c&r as one of my anchors, and I don't know when I will stop doing so. So, for now, the fic is still on hiatus. But it isn't abandoned, and it will never be. I will finish it one day. So, until then, keep bearing with me.

Thank you for reading, and most of all thank you for understanding. I love you all.

[verdemoun]

If it hasn’t been mentioned before how did Sadie die in the canon timeline before getting timewarped and how was Jake found? I think they are super interesting considering how they weren’t even married for 3 years yet before the events of the first mission (they were married in September and the game starts in May) Also another random question but did any of the gang bond over the different instruments they played (ex Sadie-Harmonica, Pearson-Accordion, or Javier-Guitar) and speaking of Javier did he ever learn electric guitar? [Sorry if my bombarding you with questions is annoying or overwhelming I’m just very hyper fixated on Rdr2 and love this au <3 /lh/pos]

pls never apologise i love asks my inbox is officially empty again rip so to all pls feel free to send any more questions about timewarp or my general rdr2 addled brain.

Sadie makes me so sad esp in the epilogue she literally makes the comment i wanna die like she is such an incredible character but she is so defeated by losing her husband, and then finding the gang only to lose them as well. After Micah's death she didn't even have revenge to live for. Also being at John and Abigail's wedding? As beautiful as the day was and as happy as she was for them, being reminded of her own wedding, everything she lost, how much she loved her husband. I think that the passive suicidality/recklessness she was putting into bounty hunting would've caught up with her really quickly and she was shot and killed by some unknown outlaw she was trying to bring in no later than 1908.

Jake bless was very much not someone anyone thought to look for fortunately with living with Sadie in such an isolated area he's a proper survivalist and just lived camping on public land doing odd jobs like farm work where he could to earn some cash for basic necessities and was just rolling with it. He's very laid back go with the flow type guy who was not nearly as panicked about waking up in modern era as he should have been.

It's completely stupid how they ran into Jake Adler. The gang were in public talking too loud about 1899 and he casually walked up to them like oh hi were you guys also magically teleported 100 years into the future after dying??

Kieran was terrified of Jake and expected some sort of retribution for being an O'Driscoll like literally shuffling to hide behind other members of the gang terrified but they actually ended up being besties because Jake knows loads about gardening and homesteading and they got to bond over 'fuck Colm O'Driscoll' and just being gentle souls they vibe so well.

Gets a new cabin away from everything and starts rebuilding his homesteading life so everything is perfect for when Sadie comes back.

It's so obvious how Jake and Sadie's dynamic worked the second they met Jake Adler. He is the sweetest, most disgustingly soft man to ever exist. He has bi wife energy. If he had survived instead of Sadie, he would not have made it in the gang. He gets emotional over the idea of using pesticides to keep bugs off his tomatoes. He is malewife extraordinaire and cries at least once a week about missing his wife who he is nauseatingly in love with.

He went with them to get Sadie obviously and the gang were a little nervous how he would respond to bounty hunter more ghost than people living weapon that is the Sadie Adler they knew? Plus this is post Micah's death so they heard ALL about that as well. Sadie Adler is terrifying. How could such a delicate marshmallow man handle it?

It is immediately very obvious that that's just Sadie's personality. It is exaggerated but very much just how she's always been she could say the most threatening violent comment with the coldest scowl and Jake's just there like wow that's my wife isn't she amazing <3 <3 <3

He is not at all surprised she became a bounty hunter and murderer she was always capable of it he just asked her nicely not to kill people so she didn't but she was always that one thing away from becoming the woman we know and love. Also how quickly Sadie goes from cold scowl to smiling affectionately kissing her husband like he is her squishy soft rock.

Also Sadie is very much bisexual being in a relationship with a man does not erase that Jake has always known and is very supportive every night he gives thanks to the women who fumbled Sadie Adler so he could marry her. Gender roles are not welcome in their relationship hell gender as a concept doesn't belong in their relationship they both wear skirts on hot days and Jake wears lipstick more often than Sadie does. Sadie pegs.

She met him at the stables he was working at, picked him up like a stray cat and said we're married now. She proposed to him and he cried. Finding someone who complimented her in every way was a once in a million and she never moved on from that. He enjoys the domestic chores she loathes, never questions or raises an eyebrow at her wearing pants or wielding a gun. Both of them happy to move into the middle of no where because neither one of them wanted their dynamic being scrutinized like they are happy being in their own world regardless of era.

The gang are still in awe of how well they balance each other out. There was divine intervention in them being so perfectly made for each other let alone finding each other in canon era it's so much clearer how they seemed so lost and distraught being apart. Why Sadie was still mourning and talking about Jake in 1907 when she had lost him for longer than she'd known him at that point. Two people could not be more perfect for each other.

SECOND POINT

Sadie starts playing harmonica again now that she has her Jakey back. And Jake, who in a similar way stopped playing when he didn't have his Sadie his amore, gets another violin (this is a hc that I will die defending let him play fiddle while Sadie's on harmonica little homesteading country music losers). Charles also plays harmonica and it is very 'same hat!!' when they realize. Teach each other songs too.

Javier plays around with electric guitar but is an acoustic purist, but because Isaac plays electric guitar they have great little jam sessions together. Javier loves having someone who asks questions and wants to learn guitar like Isaac is pretty good by the time 1911 gang arrive but he is so happy to also have someone who likes guitar as much as he does and he can learn from. Rip Isaac's friends trying to keep up 'hey you up for crime this afternoon' 'no sorry i'm going to go play guitar with my stoner mexican uncle. his autistic boyfriend who is also a stoner is making soda bread!'

Uncle gets a banjo again and also a ukulele because he thinks they look goofy.

Also Sean plays jaw harp? Fun character fact. Lenny also forgets this fact and can be found walking around the house looking for whatever bug is making that weird buzzing noise and turns out Sean couldn't sleep and was just boinging along with his jaw harp.

Gang bonfire nights go wild on the jam sessions. Little southern orchestra with the banjo, two harmonicas, a fiddle, a jaw harp and guitars all going.

[actuallyadhd]

Hi, I wonder if you have any recommendations on sleeping schedules, I always fall asleep way too late (4am) so I end up waking up past noon, it’s a mess for holding a job and being a “functional adult” in general.

I’ve had this issue my whole life, even as a young kid I would struggle with mornings, but now I have to pay rent so I’m running out of options.

Also, any tip about getting to places on time would be super appreciated.

Thanks for all the info <3

Sent September 28, 2023

Sleep can be really hard. I don't usually go to bed until the wee hours myself, but I blame that on menopause more than anything else, since it wasn't a thing before.

When I had trouble with sleep as a young adult, it was usually because I'd gotten hyperfocused on something and forgot that sleep is good.

What I've found is that having a really basic bedtime routine can help a lot, and I try to follow the same sequence of events regardless of what time I finally start heading to bed. This helps remind my brain and my body that sleep is good, and makes it more likely to happen.

You might have to play around a bit to find what works best for you, but mine is as follows:

Realize I'm sleepy

Feed my guinea pigs

Use the bathroom

Change into pyjamas

Do some puzzles (e.g., Sudoku) until I'm falling asleep while trying to solve them

Some people read until they're falling asleep, but I can't read before bed because I hyperfocus on words and will stay up all night reading.

If you really can't figure out a way to get yourself to bed earlier, look for work that will fit into your sleep schedule. Things like night security, convenience store staff, etc. could work really well for you.

Being on time for things is hard, and different strategies work for different people.

When I was struggling most with being on time, I tried all the things everyone says to do: I had a designated spot to keep things like my keys and my wallet, I set alarms, etc. But I was still late.

Eventually, I figured out that it doesn't matter how ready I am, when I need to leave I will putter around for a while before actually walking out the door. There's always "just one more thing" that I "need" to do before I go. I timed myself, and I was puttering for an hour every time.

So I figured out what time I needed to leave in order to arrive on time (I was living in Calgary, Alberta, at the time, and it took about half an hour to drive anywhere I needed to be), and then I added an hour on to that and adjusted my alarms. I had one go off an hour before I needed to be on my way, and another go off when I needed to be in the car.

Another thing that really helped was having someone message me or call me when I should be on my way, particularly if I was giving them a ride.

These days, most of my things are with friends. I message or text them when I'm leaving, since that tells them when to expect me (I live in the country and am half an hour from the city). This helps deal with frustration and lets them know that I do, in fact, value their time. I'm not late because I don't care, I'm late because time isn't real.

Followers, do you have any thoughts on these issues? How do you deal with matters of sleep and timeliness?

-J

[bloggingboutburgers]

Hi, big fan of your ace and aro art!

Genuine question here: How do you maintain a long distance relationship with your QPP (queerplatonic partner)?

Hey! Thank you so much for the kind words, that means a lot TwT

Regarding your question, apologies for the long shit incoming in advance, I'll probably share way more than what's needed, but anyway:

OK, to be honest, I should mention that I'm used to long-distance in most of the relationships in my life anyway, so that's kinda my bread and butter. I was bullied in my small town schools and later I went on to study foreign languages, so all of that created circumstances that made it natural for me to create real friendships mostly with people online or in foreign countries. I've always been more of a "next country rather than nextdoor" type of person to begin with, and my partner was no exception I guess.

We got to know each other online, so we were sort of used to the bulk of our relationship being online when we decided to be in a QPR. It was my partner's suggestion before we even got to meet IRL, and to be honest I'd never had a romantic or queerplatonic partner before and didn't fully grasp what it meant at the time, but it sounded nice, so I went for it! We met up IRL in 2018, a couple months after that (I was meeting up IRL for the first time with another friend who also happened to live in the area, in retrospect I really appreciate everyone's patience as I imposed a double visit and splitting my time in two between them TwT) and at that time it only cemented how much of a vibe it was.

After that, I was saving to visit them again in 2020, but... Y'know, the shit happened. The US (where my partner lives) enforced a travel ban on my country and several others that lasted until November 2021. It was incredibly hard during those times. We called very often, but since I'd been all riled up on the idea of hugging them again, and I was very affection-deprived because no one was allowed to see anyone or touch anyone (and that was pretty heavily monitored by cops for quite a while in my country), it wasn't enough for me to feel OK. The only way one could travel from a banned coutry to the US was to stay 14 days in a non-banned country and then travel from there – which I ended up doing in mid-2021 because I was basically going nuts. It was pretty damn expensive, but since nothing had been allowed for a while it's not like I'd spent my money on much, so I had savings, and I needed to prove myself that I could do it. We reunited IRL then for a good week. Then, because they'd fairly recently got a job (which meant more income for travel) and because US citizens WERE allowed to travel to banned countries, THEY visited me in September 2021 (and we formally promised to marry each other someday then, so even travel bans couldn't separate us in the future).

Despite all that, come late October 2021 and with no end in sight for the travel ban, I'd completely spiralled into despair over our future again. The travel ban and other restrictions made seeing each other so much harder and it was seriously taking a toll. Despite everything we'd managed that year, at that time, it felt so hard I was having serious self-endangering thoughts for the first time in my life, and I wanted to give up. That lasted about a couple days until I talked about it to them over videocall and heard their words of support and saw their face and got all angry like "fuck no, they can't take that away from me". So, because they're who they are, and because of extra support from some friends which meant a lot, despite everything, we didn't give up.

Now I'm free to travel to them again so honestly? Maintaining a long-distance relationship feels really easy right now. We text every day, videocall at least once a week and send each other care packages with gifts for our birthdays, holidays and special occasions. (Our time zone difference is 9 hours, which is convenient, cus when I wake up they're more or less about to go to bed so we can chat for a bit, when my workday is over theirs hasn't started yet, and when they're having lunch I'm having dinner, so we often share meals and watch stuff together over video calls.) We're both working adults with a stable source of income, which definitely plays into a lot, cus that means we're much more free to save up and make plans to visit each other – and by god ever since 2021 we've been making much more frequent plans, as of today we have 3 meetups more or less planned, one of them coming up this month actually, so that's pretty great^^

I do live in fear of another travel ban coming out of nowhere, so I do hope we can marry someday – though that'll be its own whole can of worms in terms of coming-out and immigration hardships, but we're determined to work through it. We're determined not to be long-distance forever. Kinda sucks that we have to go through something as amatonormative as marriage to achieve that, but also, ehh, y'know what, if that means someday I get to hang out with them in person everyday, it ain't that bad. It's a means to an end. And I guess it's a cute idea in a way.

...Welp that was way too long. tl;dr it's not easy every day. Some circumstances out of your control can really put you through the ringer sometimes. But on the flip side that means you get out of it stronger and the whole thing's kind of a virtuous circle. The more you fight for it, the more precious it is to you, and the more precious it gets to you, the more you want to fight for it. Kinda comes naturally to me at this point, so, I guess, don't make it a chore. It never felt like one to me. It's all a treasure if anything.