#this is one of those things that I might write a fic for

[lacesoflove]

NOW SHOWING: NSFW ALPHABET

WARNINGS — afab!reader. y/n has no racial/ethnic marker but does have curly hair. nsfw content. mentions of drug usage. also, the dirty secret headcanon might be gross to some.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — wrote this after i lost all my draft fics and before i rewrote them so i used this as a way to get into writing again. not proofread properly and again, these are my headcanons. Also snuck a lyric from Gigi Perez’s Sailor Song somewhere in here, somehow.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Hyperattentive towards you after sex. Will always run a bath or shower for both of you (or just you if you want some distance), if you have no leftover energy for a shower/bath, he’ll clean you up with a soft towel after leaving you in ruins and both of you will eventually just cuddle next to each other or watch Netflix together or have a session together.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Wouldn’t really say he’s insecure but he doesn’t particularly have a favourite of his own, besides maybe his curls (which don’t really count) until you come along and teach him how to love himself a bit more. He likes any part of his body that brings you pleasure, so i.e his hands, thighs and cock.

He likes your eyes and how they hold so much love for him. He also likes your curls because they mirror his own and he likes seeing that similarity between you both. He also likes your tits. Like a lot.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Deathly afraid of having kids, at the current stage, so when y’all are getting to business it’s definitely wrapped before you get tapped. But in the few and far in-between incidents where the notion of using a condom has been abandoned, this man is cumming on you. He loves seeing your tits painted in his seed.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Enjoys kissing you after either one of you has given the other oral. It might be gross, but the concept of mixing each other’s juices makes it feel like you're both fusing together in a sense. At least that’s how his line of logic works.

Also has a secret mommy/daddy kink depending on the day, and whether or not he’s feeling more dominant or submissive. Definitely had to excuse himself to the nearest bathroom when you called him daddy/asked to be called mommy as a joke.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced enough to get a good idea of the female body and its anatomy, but doesn’t feel like he’s experienced enough to be overly confident.

…Even though the amount of orgasms you’ve had at the hand of this man says otherwise.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary or whenever you ride him. He, as aforementioned, likes your eyes, hair and tits and these positions allow him to make eye contact as well as watch your tits and hair bounce to rhythm of his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

When sober, he’s definitely too enamoured with you and the entire moment to laugh or be goofy, although that’s not to say that the moment is too serious or that either of you don’t let out little chuckles here and there. Both of you are just too whiny to let out anything other than moans most of the time.

When high? Oh, this man cannot take a single thing seriously. Everything sends him to a fit of giggles because he’s just so happy to have you like that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

.

We’ve all seen his leg hair at this point. He’s hairy and will only really bother to groom at your request. He also has a happy trail that definitely makes you happy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Deep down, he’s a hopeless romantic, so he loves those quiet moments together that let you feel how much he cares and he’ll always try to bring an element of soft, gentle and pure love even when he’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t jack off often, because he’s regularly, sexually occupied by you and your body. But when he can’t fuck you he’ll fuck himself (whilst thinking of fucking you). Sometimes feels like a pathetic loser when he jerks off to the idea of you. The feeling of being a pathetic loser sometimes, inadvertently, makes him get hornier.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Not really kinks but thing’s he’s into: hair pulling (on him), cumming on you, praise, watching you beg for him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Loves doing it in the bedroom, or shower. Anywhere private so he feels like he has you all to himself. Although the idea of doing it in a public place so everybody hears how desperate you get for him has crossed his mind more times than he’d like to admit

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you want him. Any of your tiny signals, from batting your eyelashes to running your tongue over your bottom lip, that alert him that you want to do something with him are enough. It doesn’t take much to get him going

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Choking or anything along the lines of seriously harming you. Not a total turnoff, but isn’t something that he’s enthusiastically into either.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves receiving and seeing that glassy look in your eyes as your mouth is full of him - however, he enjoys giving more. And you don’t complain. He’s good at it. He’s a sucker for holding your hand through it, and gazing up at you as his face is coated in your arousal.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bit of both. Doesn’t try to go too fast so he has time to savour the moment, but also gets impatient quickly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

In theory, he understands them - sometimes he just wants to fuck you, even if it’s not for long. But in practice? Hates them. One of the most important things about making love with you is to have time to enjoy you. He’d rather not have sex with you than a quickie unless he’s desperately horny. And even then, he’ll go back for a longer round 2.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

When sober? Not really, however, during post-smoke sesh foreplay, he’ll throw out the idea of doing something more experimental with you. It’s 50/50 on whether you two go through with it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Realistically, he does not have the best stamina, so maybe 3 rounds (with the promise that you both finish). But ideally this man could go forever until you want to sit it out.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn’t use toys on himself. But definitely enjoys watching you use your wand on yourself in phone calls when you’re apart.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Enjoys teasing you because he enjoys seeing you flustered and whine for him to fuck you. Teases often but never for too long. He’s not big on denying you what you want for too long.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Quiet, partly due to embarrassment and also partly because he’s a whimperer. The only coherent phrases slipping out from this boy’s mouth is your name and frantic “I love you”’s repeated over and over again.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Definitely a soft dom or submissive top.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Ever so slightly girthier and longer than average. Pretty much perfect.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Would not describe himself as a horny person but the fact that it’s quite easy for him to think about you and you only and get hard, even with the thoughts being within an innocent context, and get hard begs to differ. He is subscribed to the mantra that if pleasure calls, he follows.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If high, he’ll fall asleep after finishing up aftercare. If not, he’ll typically be up, even if you’ve long fallen to the entrapment of slumber, watching you and lamenting over the fact he gets to touch and be with you the way that he does <3

TAGLIST — @lordofthefrogs11 @titus-androgynous-69 @adiormoi (taglist is open, just lmk if you want to be added)

[king-candybug-backup]

I'm noticing an uptick in comments complaining that most of the current WIR fandom content is Turbo instead of the other characters and, like... you guys know you can search other characters by their specific tags, right??? Or exclude Turbo from search results by temporarily blacklisting him in your filtered tags?

Idk, it's just weird to me to be discouraging towards people making fandom content just because it's not the specific content you want to see, like, it's ok to want to see other content, but complaining about how other people aren't catering to your tastes enough instead of just making the content you want to see yourself is kinda bad vibes, y'know?? (And that's not to say that I think those comments are intended out of malice of course, I really don't think they are, I just wanted to point out that it can come off as a little entitled, as well as discouraging towards people who just want to draw Turbo, which is something that should be fine if that's what they want to do. Fandom should be fun for everybody, and there's lots of tools available to curate your experience with it!)

[tkwrites]

Okay I'm done now and heading to bed, one last question.

Can you name a favourite fic for each of the boys?

Hi my Lovely,

There are quite a few of your asks I haven't answered, but please know I'm not ignoring them. They'll just take a little more time to respond to.

I can tell you my favorite fics, though:

Matthew Tkachuk - Back To You because it's such a complete story. I love the way he and Jessie meet, lose each other, and then are thrown together by fate again. I also feel like I really captured that sassy side of Matthew's personality in this fic, which I was really worried about at the time I was writing it. This is also the story that I think would be easiest to flesh out into a full length novel.

Nico Hischier - I love all the parts of his story for different reasons, but I think It Doesn't Matter Part II is my favorite. I had actually written the whole sequence of nude sketches for another character, but ended up scrapping the whole story because I couldn't find any real conflict for them to resolve. When I realized I could use it for Nico and Lena if she was an artist, I was thrilled and got to work rewriting it for them. In the end, the only things that stayed the same were 5 of the 6 poses. Getting into and out of them changed, as did the characters relating to each other during them. I love all the longing and awkward tension between them in this piece, as well as how they finally end up confessing their love for each other. Finally, the culmination of all of their longing into the final sex scene? Chefs kiss.

Quinn Hughes - This one is so hard. I've written so much about Quinn and Sarah and I love all of the pieces for one reason or another. If I had to pick three favorites, they would be:

1). Five Days of Joy because I'm so proud of this fic. It took SO long to write, but I love the way it turned out. I love that we go through so many consecutive days and such a gamut of emotions with Sarah and Quinn.

2). The Second Time is Better because I love the portrayal of a more real first time. One of the things that drives me batty about romance novels is how the characters get together and always seem to have this instantly amazing sexual connection. No room for human failing or first time jitters. In reality, it takes time to build sexual chemistry and connection, and I went into this piece wanting to show at least some of that.

and 3). Second Nature because I think it has the prettiest prose. I still think this passage is some of the best writing I've ever done:

This was ultimate flirting in Quinn’s book. Something he knew he could do. When someone wanted to talk about music, or art or classic cars, he was a fish out of water. But talking hockey? He could do that all day long. Convincing someone to like the sport he loved so much? There wasn't a more ideal situation. 

“Oh, good,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him. 

This was a perfect evening. Casual and comfortable. Cooking for someone he - liked, and kissing her whenever he wanted, taking no worry of who might be watching. 

Letting himself get swept up in the kiss, he slid his hands over her hips and tried to commit her scent to memory. No matter what happened - though he was pretty sure nothing bad was ever going to happen with Sarah - he wanted to remember this. She smelled like a dream he’d had as a boy. Like vanilla and warm skin and fireside, summer nights. It was an outlandish notion, but he couldn’t shake it. 

All her life, Sarah had read stories about star-crossed, fated lovers thrown together by chance and circumstance and serendipity. But those were all just stories. Even when her grandpa talked about meeting her grandma - like they were always meant to be together, and just had to find each other to make it happen - it seemed like folklore. A tall tale he spun to make their love story seem more epic. 

After writing all this out, I realized perhaps you meant favorite writing from other authors. Let me know if that's something you'd like me to answer.

[thatloveislikea-star]

At @brighteststarz request, here are some starcest recs!!

These are just a few of my favorite complete fics, I ran out of steam because I read so much so I might do another list later 😂 a lot of these authors have WIPs that are really amazing, so check those out if you like to follow along

An absolute classic, Want, by Saras_Girl

So good, really interesting family dynamics in Rapture on the Lonely Shore by @tenrousei-kuroi, check out their other starcest too! Another one I love of theirs is Capacious as the Sea

The Mind of Madness by phantasmaraneae is so good I’ve read it so many times

Really really hot, includes James, Little Lion by @tracingpatternswrites

I thought family planning by heated_mausoleum was funny

Heat wave by heartshapedbathtub is one of the hottest things I’ve ever read, definitely read it if you like bunny stuff, they’ve written a few more fics too

Constellations series by Evandar, has two fics, both so good, also Toujours Pur is really sweet

Winner Takes All by @the-invisibility-bloke, it’s hot, it’s funny, it’s charming, it’s perfect

Pretty much everything by @faeries-withspirits , but some favorites are Cherry Waves, Morning Glory, Starbursts (bring me back to life), Down the black hole of my lust I descend, Secret Shows in Shower Stalls. Definitely check their other fics out if you like celestial quad (reg/siri/rem/james) also their WIPs are so good

Psychiatristgirl exclusively writes bangers, like And All Was Well, my pussy tastes like pepsi cola (my eyes are wide like cherry pies), and speak in tongues (til you listen). That last one is celestial quad, it’s just too good to omit

Baby, it’s cold outside by @andwaitforthespark is so so so good, their WIPs are amazing, and the house always wins only has one chapter left!

@melissamwrites is one of my favorites, especially Black Holes, please check out their other works, especially their WIPs, especially Wormhole (though it is celestial quad and not just starcest) ALSO they make podfics!!! Check those out for sure!

Underneath the mistletoe by Sirci is one of the sweetest starcest fics ever, they have some other really good fics you should check out!

I love JBlackMalfoyRosier’s smutty little Blackcest series, if you like infidelity, it’s for you!

constellations, collisions, and other ways to say love by @matthewfairhoe is a brilliant two-parter

The Arrangement by rattlesnake_black, technically its wolfstarcest, but the dynamic between Regulus and Sirius is gold, and Remus is a hot bonus

@cassetteinability has some amazing fics, like All night long, need, sweet stars, Friends and brothers and lovers (take care of me) that last one does have James involved

Make Your Dreams Come True by @goldenbi is so hottttt

[niennawept]

Somewhere along the way, I forgot that my goal was "make more art." Not good art, not meaningful or 'important' art. I got to the point where I wouldn't make anything if it wouldn't be perfect.

Then, I had the year from hell and couldn't create at all because things IRL were very hard and I bitterly regretted not writing or drawing when I could have.

And now I'm back to trying to make more art.

Make that dumb comic (and don't try to make it "good")! Write that unhinged fan theory because it's silly and it makes you laugh. Start writing that fic you held off on because it's so self-indulgent you don't even know if you'll post it in the end (Valinor AU, my beloved).

I wish I could say that this cured my perfectionism (it didn't - I'm still very afraid not to be perfect) but I can say that making those silly things no one was asking for did help me make progress on art that matters more to me.

So I guess my point is - priorities can be for IRL responsibilities (work, school, home) but for me, art might need to have fewer rules so that I'll actually do it.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hey, love you work, I was wondering if I could request a fic of the reader and Hotch being in a established relationship and its when Hotch passed out in the meeting room because of the stab wounds and its him asking the reader if she (or could be GN) was mad that in his dreams (not sure if it was really a dream) he saw Haley, and its the reader comforting him and telling him its ok. Also the reader panicking when he is taken to the hospital.

🫶🏻

Route 66 | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | WC: 1.1k | CW: Route 66, hospital, fainting, worry, anxiety, near death.

A/N: ANON!!!! I LOVE YOU! I've had the words Route 66 written in my notes app for so long, meaning to write something for that episode, but by sending in a request you kindly pushed that thought forward by softly "forcing" me to write it ��💕

You sat across from where Hotch was standing, his hand resting on the back of the chair in front of him, almost leaning on it. The team had gathered to discuss the details of their newest case, but Hotch's expression was off. His usually steely focus seemed blurred, replaced with a distant look and a faint pallor, as though he were lost somewhere far away. You knit your eyebrows, concern building as you watched him. Maybe he’d caught something, you thought — or maybe it was pure exhaustion from the relentless stack of case files and paperwork to be filled out on his desk?

When he met your eyes, he offered a tight-lipped smile, one of those you’d come to recognize as his way of brushing off concern — He could tell what you were thinking just by looking at you. But something in that look made your worry deepen. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his face seemed strained, his breathing slightly unsteady.

"She's been missing for over five hours, and we know how time-sensitive these cases are. The, uh… amber alert is expanding… every hour…" Hotch's voice wavered, the contrast to his usual commanding tone made your worry increase — you made a mental note to force him to take a break once back from the case. He paused mid-sentence, blinking as if trying to steady himself, but his words came slower, each one seemingly costing him more and more effort. "Excuse me," he managed to say before he turned away.

Before any of you could react, he swayed. And then, without warning, his body gave out, crumpling as he fell to the floor.

"Aaron?" you called, your heart jumping in your chest. You shot out of your chair, rushing to his side, barely processing Morgan’s panicked, “Hotch!” before your hands found his shoulders. He was so still, his skin frighteningly pale, and his breathing alarmingly faint.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Morgan’s voice boomed through the room, it was sharp, slicing through the stunned silence around the table.

In what felt like seconds, paramedics were there, loading him onto a stretcher. Everything moved in a blur, your gaze fixed on him, silently pleading for him to open his eyes, for some sign of life, some assurance that he’d be okay. You climbed into the ambulance beside him, not willing to let him out of your sight, clutching his hand as if that small connection might somehow anchor him to you.

The ride to the hospital felt agonizingly slow, each second echoing the sound of your pounding heartbeat. All you could think was that you should have known, should have done something. But then he was there, still and quiet, his hand cool in yours, and the weight of not knowing what was wrong gnawed at you.

One thing was certain: you weren’t getting on that jet tonight. Not without him.

The hours passed agonizingly slow in the sterile surroundings of the relative's room at the hospital. Hotch was still in surgery. Each minute stretched into what felt like hours, causing your worry to increase by the second. The slight mutter of doctors passing by and the rhythmic beeps of machines in the rooms around you faded into the background, leaving you with only the memory of Hotch collapsing, the sound of him hitting the ground, his pale almost ghostly face. The scene replayed in a cruel loop, each moment sharpening the feeling of helplessness in your chest.

You went over every second in your mind, searching for signs you might have missed, something that could tell you exactly what was going on. The tired look in his eyes, his faltering words, the way he’d gripped the chair to steady himself — all of it was unclear. The guilt gnawed at you, growing heavier as you waited — you should've known something was off. You wrapped your arms around yourself as if it could keep the memories, the what-ifs, from pressing in too close and consuming you too much.

Lost in thought, you barely registered the sound of footsteps approaching until the doctor stood in front of you, his voice pulling you back into the present.

“He’s stable now, but very disoriented,” he said gently, and relief surged through you, so overwhelming that it took a moment to fully register. “He’s asking for you.”

You nodded, your body moving almost on instinct as you got up, every part of you focused on seeing him. Your pulse raced as you followed him down the corridor.

You found him slightly sitting up in the bed, he looked weak but alert, eyes softening when they found you. Relief flooded through you — and through him. The sight of him was almost enough to bring you to tears. You reached his bedside, taking his hand and pressing it to your cheek.

“Hey, you,” you murmured, voice breaking as you blinked back tears despite your attempt to stay calm. “You scared me.”

He winced, managing a half-smile. “Sorry for that.”

You took a breath, about to tell him it was okay, that you were just glad he was alright, but he beat you to it, his gaze shifting down to the sheets as he spoke, almost as if he was ashamed.

“I… I need to tell you something. When I was out, I saw Haley.”

The words hung in the air between you. You brushed your thumb along his knuckles, urging him to continue.

“She was… there. It was like I was seeing her for the first time again. My life was playing on the big screen,” he murmured. “And I thought, for a second, maybe I was—” He broke off, searching your face. “I need to know… are you angry?”

The question stunned you. Anger? That was the last thing you felt. You leaned forward, cupping his face, thumb tracing the line of his cheek.

“I’m not angry. Haley will always be a part of you and your story,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “Losing her was… it was unimaginable. You loved her. And seeing her in that moment… maybe it’s what you needed to let go of some of the guilt you’ve been carrying since.”

His eyes softened, his hand lifting to cover yours, holding it close against his cheek. “You’re too good to me.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head with a smile. “I just love you.”

He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away.

“I can’t imagine how it felt,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “But I know I don’t want to go back there. Not when I have you.”

You leaned in, feeling his breath warm against your skin. “Then focus on healing, Aaron. And let me be here for you.”

It was as if everything else fell away. The hospital, the case, the memory of Haley, even the thought of Jack on his way to the hospital with Jess — it all faded into the background, leaving only you and him, together.

[lillaydee]

Alone

Jackson! Joel Miller / OFC

Annie had always been alone. Until Jackson. But is it too good to be true?

Note: This was my second fic ever - the first one I wrote about Joel. Started writing to practice using English so if the language is bad please forgive me.

Also, Tess MIGHT not be shown in the best light here, so fair warning.

Word Count: 13,939 (It was 4 chapters, I combined it for this purpose)

WARNINGS:

EXTREME ANGST, Loneliness, Tess Lives (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Character Death, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Graphic Death Descriptions

ANNIE

Annie had never really had people in her life. For less than a day, she had a mother and a father, both of whom immediately decided that having a baby was too much for them. She was found in a box in front of the fire station, and then immediately placed in the foster system, passed around, not really wanted by anyone, never staying anywhere long enough to make friends or get attached to people, until she turned 18 and was released into the society. She got a job as an assistant at the library, stacking books and helping with record keeping. For 30 glorious days, she had friends and a small room she rented from an old lady whom she helped with daily chores. She had a purpose and was looking forward to settling into her new life with her first paycheck.

And then the world went to shit.

For 20 years, Annie floated around, surviving, never really making any friends, just living, fighting, trying so hard to make sure she lived another day. Several times, she found places to set root in. Abandoned houses or shacks that can shelter her from harsh winters, and enough resources for her to forage or hunt for food. Those were the best days, she often thought. Getting to keep house, having a routine. But she was still alone. Alarmingly, she caught herself saying what was on her mind out loud daily. Just describing her day-to-day activities to the room or surrounding area, just to not lose her mind. Before she knew it, it became a habit. It’s not weird when she was alone. Not like there was anyone to laugh at her for talking to herself.

Every time, just when she got comfortable in her makeshift home, raiders would come. The infected would come. FEDRA would come. She was but one woman. She could fight, sure, years of surviving in this afterworld had forced her to learn, but she was still one woman. So, the backpack she kept ready to go was hauled onto her back, and a blanket filled with what she could carry slung over her shoulder, and she ran. On to the next place.

Sometimes she would be taken in by groups of people she met along her way, but the groups always moved on. In fact, on more than one occasion, she woke up to an empty camp, the people who had people having moved on without her, deciding she was not worth the resources needed to keep her with them. At least that’s what she told herself.

The men had use for her, though. They always had. Particularly in secluded places and under sleeping bags at night. She often wondered if she was upset by this, if she should feel used, offended. But to her, this was just another day. She had to survive somehow. And if her looks and body can help her survive another day, then so be it. The women did not see her that way, though. To them, she was a threat. Someone who mysteriously still looked good despite not having a meal plan and sleeping in the dirt every night for years on end. Someone who their men and protector could not seem to keep their eyes and hands off. Even at the end of the world, jealousy prevailed.

The men, although eager to take their payments from her, she noticed, would never put her before their women, which, in retrospect, was a good thing, but not for her. During every attack, every defense, she found that no one had her back. Often, she was left as bait so the others could escape, the men holding their women close to get them to safety. What she wouldn’t give to have someone do that for her.

She carried on as best she could. Moving from place to place, wandering around, never really sleeping, or eating well, until one day, she hit her limit. The conversations with herself stopped. She didn’t even have anything to say to herself anymore. How long can she keep doing this? Although she wasn’t aware of it at the time, going day to day for 20 years without anyone having her back finally caught up with her. She was all alone, with no one to love or live for, and no one to do the same for her. She felt tired. Surrendering, deciding that she had survived enough, and ready to give up. She stopped eating. Her body eventually got so weak she took to crawling to move when finding shelter but remained in the same area for weeks. When winter hit its peak, she stopped moving altogether. When her body grew numb and stopped shivering, she thought of the 30 days when she had people, had hope and purpose. If she was taking her last breath, those 30 days, the happiest days of her life were what she wanted to think about. No sadness when dying. Not when she had no one who would be sad for her demise.

That’s when Joel and Tommy found her, almost an icicle, starving and emaciated, and brought her back to Jackson.

From the moment Annie was brought into Jackson, Joel took it upon himself to make sure she was doing all right. He made sure Maria housed her in a small cottage at the end of the town, not far from his own place. He and Tommy came by every day for a week, fixing whatever needed fixing and making the place livable. Ellie and Maria came by and brought supplies – blankets, clothing, toiletries, even basic grocery needs – so she could start her new life in Jackson.

Maria learnt of her short experience at the library in the before, so asked her to help out in the library. Every day, Annie woke up, went to the mess hall for breakfast, went to the library, had lunch and continued working until the evening. Then, in the evenings, she would go to the storage warehouse, helping sort out supplies that had been brought in by the patrol groups, or even reorganizing a few things around. She kept to herself, though. She ate alone, worked alone, and went home alone. But she had a routine, people to serve and help. And in doing so people served and helped her as well, all a part of the ‘bartering’ system in Jackson.

Joel, Ellie, Tommy and Maria said hello every now and again. Tommy and Maria were friendly enough. Asking her if she needed anything, making sure she was alright and settling in well. Ellie began to stop by at the library, or even the warehouse, talking her ears off every single time. Annie liked spending time with her. Especially since she didn’t need to contribute much. Ellie would tell her everything she learnt, and then some. Movies she had watched, music she listened to, food she had tried, friends she had made. Annie began feeling less lonely, feeling as if she actually had people, even if for just a few minutes a day.

But Joel did more. Her firewood was always fully stocked. Her windows and doors never squeaked, her rotten steps magically fixed. He brought her bread every now and again. Jackets and books and whatever else he thought she would enjoy, extra fruits that he could get his hands on, anything, really. And if he happened to be on his way home at the same time as her, which was suspiciously often, whatever was burdening her hands would immediately be whisked away into his strong arms. He would walk the extra distance past his own house just to ease her person of anything she had to carry, which, at one point, was just her jacket, which she had taken off from being sweaty after a long day of organizing at the warehouse. He didn’t speak, though. Just a silent presence, grunting hellos and goodbyes sometimes. But no more.

After a few weeks of these unspoken actions, he began to linger on her porch after walking her home. And slowly but surely, the silences faltered. He started small talk with her. Asking about her day. It seemed Joel had never met anyone who was less prone to speaking than he was. She had been alone for so long, only having herself to speak to, so conversations did not come naturally to her. But she got used to Joel’s small talk, and eventually got comfortable talking to him, albeit in mumbled, or muttered short sentences. He was not exactly chatty to start with anyways.

When she got sick one day, these four people made sure she was taken care of, taking turns to check in on her, but Joel came every single day when he was not on patrol. When she got better, Joel continued to come every day, beginning with small talk on the porch, which eventually led to him being invited in for drinks, and their relationship progressed from there. Joel would tell her about his life from before. About his work, his daughter Sarah, about the depression and aimlessness that came from her death.

He told her about Tess, about his regrets of keeping her at arm’s length, of using her for survival, of scratching an itch while never acknowledging what might had been his true feelings for her until it was too late. He told her that despite his regret, he wasn’t sure if he would ever risk having such attachments to anyone ever again, his fear of losing them and down spiraling again too great a cost for his already fragile mind and heart. But then Ellie managed to somehow make him let his guard down, and now that he was safe in Jackson, with Ellie, Tommy and Maria, he wondered if he could risk his heart again. Perhaps let someone else in.

Their relationship turned physical sometime after that confession. That first time, Annie was shocked at how different things were with Joel. He was gentle, considerate, unlike the men she met before Jackson, who were only thinking of their own satisfaction, and never caring about hers. Joel explored her. Touched her. Felt her. Caressed her. With Joel, she didn’t feel like being used for sex. She felt as if she was cared for. Like she mattered. Important. And most importantly, she was sated. She woke up alone, his side of the bed rumpled, but oh so cold. Not that she minded. Other men left as soon as they were done with her. Why not him? This was what she knew. This was how sex was.

So, when he came back, time and again, and not always for sex, she was shocked. This is unfamiliar territory. He would still talk to her. He didn’t treat her like some leftover food he had spat out. She was not used to this. He seemed to still be interested in her. The sex remained intimate. Special. Eventually, he would hold her close after, and they would talk about nothing and everything. He never stayed over, though. He had Ellie to think about, he told her. She understood.

Despite their rendezvous turning sexual, Joel kept it private. He never showed her affection in public. Never sat for meals with her at the mess hall. Never sat with her during movie nights. Never danced with her at parties or gatherings. Behind closed doors, he could not keep his hands off her. But in public, he only watches her from afar, content with allowing Ellie, Tommy and Maria to entertain her and keep her company.

Annie didn’t mind. She knew how he felt, even though he never spent the night. She knew he wasn’t looking at anyone else. She knew she was his. She knew him enough to understand he needed time to navigate their relationship. And to be frank, this was more than she had ever had. So, who was she to question his intentions? At least she had him, even if it was just in the privacy of her little cottage. When out on patrol, despite him not talking to her unless they were alone, she knew he was watching, she felt as if for the first time in her life, someone had her back, even if it’s just a feeling.

Ellie knew. Maria knew. Tommy knew. They teased her about it sometimes. They knew she was Joel’s girl. That’s why they kept her company. Kept an eye on her at gatherings, knowing that the isolation she had been through made it difficult for her to make friends. Heck, even the town knew, despite the lack of PDA. She was often at the receiving end of sour looks from the single ladies of Jackson, those who had kept their eyes on Joel – the most eligible bachelor in town. The men had always paid attention to her, staring hard until they were forced to look away under the weight of Joel’s stern gaze, or, more often than not, their own wives’. Annie received death stares from those ladies for her troubles.

Joel noticed. He didn’t like it. She shouldn’t have to be on the receiving end of hatred from the ladies of Jackson, single or otherwise. So, for the first time since she arrived in Jackson exactly six months ago, he stayed. He comforted her and apologized to her. He reasoned that he was to blame for this. He should be more open about their relationship. So why don’t they have their meals together from now on? That way, people would see, and she would no longer be the sole gossip fodder. Annie agreed, looking forward to belonging for once.

The next morning, they walked to the mess hall together, her hand entwined in his. They picked up Ellie on the way and were soon joined by Tommy and Maria. Along the way, they chatted, Ellie reading silly jokes from her pun book. Annie had never felt so happy. She was part of a group. She had people. These people chose her. Joel’s hand never left hers. The group received looks from the townsfolk, But Annie found that when in a group, the looks were not suffocating. It made her feel good, in fact. She thought she even saw some smiles thrown her way. For the first time in her life, Annie felt content. She will be alright. She was cared about.

As they were approaching the mess hall, a commotion at the gate drew their attention to it. The gate was opened quickly, and a woman walked in. She looked worse for wear, her eyes searching her surroundings. Annie felt Joel and Ellie and freeze next to her.

“Tess”, Ellie said.

The next thing she knew, Ellie was running at full speed towards the woman. Tess, apparently. She collided with Tess and started sobbing, asking how? How? Annie looked at Joel for answers. He looked like he had seen a ghost. He let go of her hand, and walked over to the two who were still wrapped in each other, faces full of tears. Joel reached them, and Ellie let go. Tess and Joel stood there, staring at each other, his face still pale and in disbelief, hers, hopeful. Joel broke the tension with a bear hug. Tears falling down his face. When the hug broke, he kissed her.

He kissed her. On the lips. Passionate. Raw. Desperate.

He kissed her, right there in front of the mess hall, where half the townspeople were watching.

He kissed her.

Annie felt numb. Tommy and Maria stood there, frozen. Maria kept looking at her but was at a loss for words. Annie couldn’t move. She watched. She watched as Joel kept on kissing Tess fiercely, and the woman reciprocated just as much. When they finally broke, they were breathless, smiles all around. They grabbed Ellie and had a group hug. Tommy began to tell Annie who that woman was, but Annie already knew, finishing his sentence for him. The three turned and walked down the street, still in each other’s arms, Joel’s wrapped tightly around Tess’s waist, the other around Ellie’s shoulder.

Joel did not look at Annie.

A month went by, Tess had settled well it seemed. She stayed with Joel and Ellie. She was very popular, indeed. She was tough, but friendly. She had been around people all her life, so making friends came easy for her. She and Joel walked Ellie to school every morning, after having breakfast in the mess hall as a trio. They then spend the whole day on patrol together, coming back in time for a family dinner with Tommy and Maria. Tess’s arrival was the talk of the town. The town accepted Tess like she was the prodigal son, returned from some bad ass adventure to complete the first family of Jackson.

Annie waited for Joel to come to her. Say goodbye to her. Explain to her. But he never did. Neither did Ellie. Annie understood why Joel had to stay with Tess. He told her about his regrets after all. She was sure that if it had been her, she would have done the same. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. She didn’t need an apology. But a goodbye would have been nice. A closure of sorts, and then perhaps they could go back to being her people. But that never came. Tommy gave her some awkward smiles every now and again. Maria was the only one who talked to her often, but it was mostly at the library or the warehouse, mostly about work. One day, as Annie was giving Maria the weekly report on the stationery stock at the warehouse, her words stopped. Maria went to the window to see what she was looking at. Joel, Tess and Ellie, walking side by side, arms around each other as usual, laughing at something Ellie said. Annie’s heart felt heavy. Maria put her hand on her shoulder, a look of sympathy on her face.

“Please understand, they are a family”, she said.

Annie didn’t answer. Maria went on to explain that they had history, a connection from the start. How they thought she was dead, but she had magically survived. They swore to never take another moment for granted, to live their lives to the fullest. Joel and Ellie just didn’t know how to tell her, but she was sure they felt bad about it. They will come and talk to her one day, she said. She was sure of it. Just give them some time.

Annie remained quiet. She didn’t tell Maria how she waited for Joel to come. How she longed for a proper goodbye. How the women in town now sneered at her – dumped like yesterday’s garbage without so much of an explanation. She didn’t tell Maria how she received unwanted visitors now, women who berated her and threatened to kill her for their husbands’ unwanted advances on her during patrol. She didn’t tell Maria how she had started talking to herself again. She didn’t tell Maria that she was lonely. She didn’t tell Maria that she had been out with a terrible cold for almost a week, and despite her absence from her places of work, no one came to check on her. There was no use in telling her. She was alone. She will always be alone.

When another month passed and there was still no sight of Joel, Annie felt herself resenting the loneliness that quilted her. It was suffocating. It was all she could think about. She found herself in a familiar rut, except this time she had the knowledge of what it was like to have people. Being lonely when she didn’t know better was fine. But being lonely now, it was draining her quickly. And being lonely when there are people around her, especially those who she thought were her people – people who quickly decided she was not worth their forever after, or even the courtesy of a goodbye, pulling the rug of comfort from underneath her just as she began to settle on it – was unbearable.

She was on a supply run one day, on foot, along with Tommy, Maria, Joel and Tess. Maria thought bringing her along would be good, since they had planned to check out a nearby library for books for the school. She had to watch as Joel and Tess walked side by side, comfortable with each other, talking and laughing quietly among themselves, neither sparing her a look. Tommy and Maria were the same, save for some pitiful looks from Maria, and some very uncomfortable glances from Tommy. When the clickers came, the two couples moved in sync with their partners. Each having an eye out for the other. Having each other’s backs.

Annie was on her own. No one was there to watch her back, despite being in a group. While she was perfectly capable of taking care of the clickers herself, she couldn’t help but envy Tess when Joel pulled the last clicker off of her and finished it brutally before turning to her and checking for bites and injuries, a worried look on his face. She turned around, maybe to give them privacy, or maybe because she couldn’t handle the way her heart clenched at the sight. It didn’t help. In her new line of sight, Tommy was checking on Maria, just as Joel was on Tess. Annie felt blood trickling from her nose, an unfortunate consequence of falling on her face when she was surprised at the beginning of the attack, but no one was checking on her. So, she walked a little further to a small creek, wanting to wash her face off the blood that had now started to gush rather than trickle.

But a series of clicking made her stop in her tracks. She turned to see a clicker not 10 yards away from her, unaware of her presence thanks to the bubbling sounds coming from the water. She saw Joel in her periphery, quickly warning him to stay silent. Noticing the clicker, he raised his gun, only to realize he was out of bullets. Annie raised her own gun, one bullet left in the chambers. Tess appeared out of nowhere, her feet snapping a twig on the ground. The clicker reacted, ready to attack her. Tess was frozen in place. Annie fired at the clicker, hitting its shoulder. It turned and flew at her, landing right on top of her, mauling her shoulder and neck before another gunshot rang and the clicker fell off her.

Annie couldn’t move. Couldn't breathe properly. She could feel the cordyceps travelling through her bloodstream, the sound of the stream somehow muted by a loud gurgle in her ear, loud and frothy. Tess had shot the clicker. Tess had tried to save her. Suddenly she realized she didn’t feel scared. She looked at the sky, her mind going through the seven months of her 39 years on this earth where she had people. When she belonged. Happy. And now, as she was leaving, she didn’t feel that alone.

Joel and Tess came into view, the gun in her hand still smoking. Tommy and Maria came running, guns ready. None of them said anything once they saw the bloody bites on her neck and shoulder. Annie looked at Tommy, who turned the other way. Maria looked at her, a small smile on her lips, eyes full of attempted comfort. Tess looked… sorry? But she looked away too quickly for Annie to be sure. Annie focused her sight on Joel. She didn’t try to get up. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. But as he took Tess’s gun from her hands, Annie thought, or maybe hoped, she saw something resembling a glimmer of regret? Sadness even?

When he aimed the gun at her head, she saw for sure that he had tears in his eyes, before he closed them, turned his head the other way, and pulled the trigger.

Loneliness turned into nothingness.

JOEL

Joel stopped moving. Something in his periphery seemed suspicious. When Tommy reached his side, Joel stopped him. They had just walked this path yesterday. Joel was sure that the lump he and Tommy were looking at right now was not there then. They decided to approach, cautiously creeping towards it, guns out and ready. The lump was mostly covered by snow, but the grey and black cloth sticking out here and there caught his attention. Tommy went closer, Joel watching his back in case anything happened. There was nothing on the route, usually flat and clear from their patrol trails, except this lump.

When Tommy cursed and told him it was a person, Joel told him to make sure they were unarmed, or not dangerous. Tommy poked and prodded lightly at the person, and actually thought they were dead. When they pulled the jacket that was covering the person, Joel saw what he thought was a young girl. She was practically blue, and looked so emaciated, as if she hadn’t had anything to eat in weeks. Tommy dropped to his knees beside her, took his gloves off and checked her pulse. He couldn’t feel any. Rather than just move her, they decided to bury her, just for the humanity of it all. As Joel lifted her slightly frozen body, she moved, and a small whimper escaped her.

Joel almost dropped her from the shock.

They immediately decided they should take her back to Jackson. Joel had her laid against him on his horse, his heart clenching at how light she was, how weak, unable to sit by herself without support on the horse. Tommy ended up having to pass her to him like a parcel for both of them to be on the horse. Joel’s heart wept throughout the two hours journey, for she was constantly, weakly crying from the pain that the horse’s movements caused her, her bones too brittle, her muscles too weak and out of use to respond. She ended up spending her first ten days at the infirmary mostly sleeping, only waking long enough to eat the small amounts of food that her shrunken stomach could take several times a day, IV drips continuously rehydrating her poor worn body.

Joel found himself unable to stay away. His thoughts were always on her. Had she been alone? Was she captured? Did someone torture her? Will she be alright? He spent his free time at her bedside, but slipped away whenever she stirred, worried that his presence might scare her. If she had been tortured, having a big, unfamiliar man such as himself next to her bed might be traumatizing, and he didn’t want that for her.

Ellie came to keep him company sometimes, curious as to why Joel had taken such an interest on this new person. The truth was, he didn’t even have an answer for that. Was it because he felt responsible? Maybe he didn’t want someone else to die on his watch? Maybe because he saw Sarah, Ellie, or even Tess in this person? As the days passed, the new patient’s face grew fuller, her body cleaner and slowly filling up, and it became apparent that she was attractive. Ellie started teasing him – ooh… no wonder you wanted her here, Mister Joel we-cannot-trust-people Miller, complete with a mockery of his voice. Joel rolled his eyes and gave her a stern look, but wondered if the little precocious girl was right.

When she was strong enough, Maria asked the woman a few questions. They learned that she had been alone, only joining groups whenever she ran into one, but often left alone again. They learned that the isolation meant she had no idea how much time had passed since the world ended. They learned that she had just turned 18 when the outbreak happened, although she certainly did not look 38. They learned that her name, was Annie.

When Annie was released from the infirmary, Joel took it upon himself to make sure she was doing all right. He made sure Maria housed her in a small cottage at the end of the town, not far from his own place. He and Tommy went by every day for a week, fixing whatever needed fixing and making the place livable. Ellie and Maria sent supplies – blankets, clothing, toiletries, even basic grocery needs – so she could start her new life in Jackson.

Joel watched Annie from afar that first week. He saw that she went to the mess hall for breakfast in the mornings, spent a better part of her day working at the library before spending some time helping out at the storage warehouse. She kept to herself, though. She ate alone, worked alone, and went home alone. Joel felt like a creep for watching her like this, but for some reason he couldn’t bear to tear himself apart from her. He needed to know how she was doing. So, he sent Ellie, Tommy and Maria her way, making sure she had everything she needed. Ellie had even taken to visiting her at work after school just to keep her company. It made his heart swell with pride, his little girl being so considerate of Annie.

For his part, Joel did not approach her still. Instead, he went around to her little cottage and made sure she had what she needed. He chopped wood for her. Fixed her squeaky doors and windows for her. Once, he had fallen through the rotten step on her front porch as he was trying to place firewood on it. He fixed it before she came home.

Since he settled in Jackson not six months ago, Joel had never been aware of the looks he received from the ladies. He was basically their eye candy. When Tommy brought this to his attention, he dismissed the idea. Twenty something young ladies swooning over an old man like him indeed, what a ridiculous notion. What he did not realize was that this was true. They would find any excuse to talk to him. Every time he went to the shops for groceries, the ladies managing them would slip in extras for him, supposedly because he had a young charge to feed, and growing little girls need nourishment. He didn’t need the extra fruit and bread and the likes, the usual supply more than enough for him and Ellie. So, he began dropping off the extras to Annie, knowing that she was still too shy and uncomfortable to go to the shops to get her own. He took the opportunity to find her around town to give them to her, or sometimes passed them to Ellie to make sure she got them.

Whenever Joel went on supply runs, Joel looked out for things Annie would need. A warm winter jacket, gloves, scarves, anything at all. There was a mall near-ish to Jackson the patrol visited a lot. Usually, Joel would just collect what he could and send them straight to the warehouse after. But these days, he would select things that he thought would suit Annie the most, and then gave them to her by hand while at the warehouse. Joel also found himself lingering after his job was done, waiting for Annie to finish her work, and pretended like he just happened to be there when she was leaving. He would just relieve her of whatever she was carrying, and silently walked next to her all the way to her little cottage. When they arrived, he would just deposit the items on her porch, and quietly left.

Joel could not understand it, but he needed to be near Annie. Needed to get to know her better. And despite their encounters always lacking conversation, he was comfortable with her. She made him feel at ease. So, he began asking her small talk questions. And she, in turn, politely nodded, or shook her head in response. Joel found that he didn’t mind. And anytime she smiled at something he said, he could’ve sworn he was floating on air. Over time, Joel and Annie became closer. They would exchange life stories. And Joel, the most private, grumpy, emotionally unavailable person he knew, shared his most intimate stories with her. He told her about Sarah. He told her what he attempted to do upon her death. He told her how hollow he was, how emotionless, how depressed. He shocked himself at this, he had never told anyone about this, not even Tess or Ellie – not directly anyways, and certainly not a few weeks after meeting them, with barely enough words spoken to each other. They had both found out about Sarah through Tommy and Maria respectively. Tommy told Tess about his failed attempt for his life, and he only told Ellie about it to try to make her understand how much she had given him hope. Heck, if Tommy wasn’t there with him during those times, he might not even have told him, his own brother.

He told her about Tess, his regrets about how his relationship with her turned out. He saw Tess as someone to survive with. Someone he could scratch an itch with, cared for, looked out for, but never someone he had deep feelings for. A partner, a business one, with the added benefit. When she died, he felt as if he had used her, knowing that she felt more for him than he did for her, and the guilt made him wonder if he really did just see her as such, or if things would have turned out different had he just allowed himself to love. He had dreams when he first arrived in Jackson, he said, of him, Tess and Ellie settling down as a family. He always woke up convinced he had screwed up, that he was indeed in love with Tess, but it was all too late. He told her that despite his regret, he wasn’t sure if he would ever risk having such attachments to anyone ever again, his fear of losing them and down spiraling again too great a cost for his already fragile mind and heart. But then Ellie managed to somehow make him let his guard down, and now that he was safe in Jackson, with Ellie, Tommy and Maria, he wondered if he could risk his heart again. Perhaps let someone else in.

Joel told her a lot of things he never thought he would tell anyone. He was just very… comfortable with her. In return, Annie told him about her life on the road, about the groups she had joined, those who used her for sex, who left her when she was no longer needed. Those who treated her like trash just because their men looked her way. How she had no one to talk to, except herself. How she gave up, and resigned herself to dying alone, just as she had lived, when Joel and Tommy found her. Joel’s heart ached at her life story. Annie seemed unaware how unconventional her life was – she had grown so accustomed to being alone, being treated badly, that she didn’t see the wrong in those people she had met. To her, that was all just another day.

When he tried to kiss her for the first time, Annie admitted to not knowing what to do, or how to reciprocate. The other men had never done so. It was always a quick in an out, mostly for fear of their partners knowing, her legs spread open while she was sleeping and a hand over her mouth to stop her from screaming, or a quick bend over against whatever was out of the line of sight of the group they were with, again, with a hand over her mouth.

Joel bristled at this. So, he patiently, with her consent, showed her what sex could be like. He was gentle, considerate, and giving. Joel explored her. Touched her. Felt her. Caressed her. All he wanted was for her to feel cherished, so that she didn’t feel like being used for sex. Cared for. Mattered. Important. And most importantly, sated. He didn’t stay, but he made sure to always come back, and not just for sex. He didn’t want her to think that was all he wanted from her. He made sure the sex remained intimate. Special. Eventually, he would hold her close after, and they would talk about nothing and everything. He still did not stay the night. He had Ellie to think about, he told her. She understood.

Despite their rendezvous turning sexual, Joel kept it private. He still walked her to and from work daily, but he never showed her affection in public. Never sat for meals with her at the mess hall. Never sat with her during movie nights. Never danced with her at parties or gatherings. Behind closed doors, he could not keep his hands off her. But in public, he only watches her from afar, content with allowing Ellie, Tommy and Maria to entertain her and keep her company. Joel noticed that as time passed, Annie opened up more, laughed more, communicated more, got out more. His heart grew in size seeing her so happy. He wanted to be near her, wanted to shout about their relationships from the rooftop, but he wanted to protect her. Gossip in a small town such as Jackson can be debilitating, and with her looking so much younger than her actual age, Joel didn’t want her to be the target of gossipmongers, that young lady with a creepy old man. So, he kept his distance, in public anyway.

What Joel didn’t know was that the whole town already knew. In fact, his lack of public acknowledgement of this relationship made her a walking target. His fan club called her a hussy, opening her legs for scraps from Joel when he didn’t even want to be seen in public with her, despite the fact he was seen with her daily. The men leered and stared at her, and their partners hated her, blamed her for their partners’ wandering eyes. When he found out, he kicked himself for keeping her at an arms-length, his decision making her more of a target than she would have been if he had just been more open. So, for the first time since she arrived in Jackson exactly six months ago, he stayed over. He held her, comforted her and apologized to her. He suggested they sit for their meals together from now on. That way, the single ladies would see that he wanted her to be with him, that she wasn’t in some one-sided delusional sexual arrangement with him, the men would know to back off her, and their partners would stop blaming her for their husbands or boyfriends’ roving eyes and filthy thoughts.

The next morning, they walked to the mess hall together, her hand entwined in his. They picked up Ellie on the way and were soon joined by Tommy and Maria. Along the way, they chatted, Ellie reading silly jokes from her pun book. Joel was happy to see how happy Annie was. She laughed at Ellie’s stupid pun book jokes, chatted freely with Maria and Tommy, and cuddled up to him like it was the most natural thing to do. Joel thought to himself, this was it. He was finally happy. Settled. Content. As they were approaching the mess hall, a commotion at the gate drew their attention. The gate was opened quickly, and a woman walked in. She looked worse for wear, her eyes searching her surroundings.

Joel froze.

“Tess”, Ellie said.

Ellie ran full speed towards Tess, colliding with her, hugging her tight and started sobbing, asking how? How?

Joel felt his insides freeze. Time ceased to exist. Tess was dead. She died. In Boston. She got bitten, and sacrificed herself so that he and Ellie could escape. How could she be here? But Ellie was hugging her. And she was hugging Ellie back, so it couldn’t be his imagination, could it? His entire body just moved without his control. It was as if he was in a fantasy world, one where he visited almost every night those first few months he and Ellie arrived in Jackson, sleeping safe and sound in their beds at night, where Tess was alive, and he got to do everything he wished he had done before she died. The one where he had allowed himself the possibility of love, where they were a family, and everyone was alright. His feet just moved him towards the two. He held out his hand and touched her face tentatively. Part of her face and neck were scarred, burnt, most likely, but it was Tess. It was definitely her.

“Hi Joel”, she said, her eyes full of hope that he would recognize her, and happy to see her there.

This must be a dream. Surely, he was dreaming. He was touching her. If this was a dream, this was the realest dream he had ever had. He hugged her. Her scent overwhelmed him, it was so familiar, so real, yet so surreal. He thought of the last time they saw each other, how she was screaming at him to leave, how she wouldn’t let him near her, how he wished they could have one last kiss.

So, he kissed her. He poured all his regret and guilt into that kiss. He forgot where he was, he had forgotten since he saw her. All he could think of was Tess, and that she was here, and that she was alive, in his arms, kissing him. He can make things right. Everything he had spent months of sleepless nights thinking and dreaming about could come true now. He was high on that dream. Tess was back. When he broke the kiss, he looked at Tess and Ellie’s faces, both wet from tears, and knew his own was too. He pulled them both into a hug and turned around to bring them home.

The moment he got Tess showered and fed, the three of them sat in the living room, all curled up together. She told them how her sleeve caught fire during the chaos, and out of fear and pure panic, she ran out, frantically trying to put out the fire licking at her arm, neck, and parts of her face. She was thrown away from the building when the blast happened, and woke up the next day, burns all over her. She realized that she hadn’t turned, and that the fire must have burnt her infection off. Her injuries made it slower to move, but eventually she got to Frank and Bills, and spent some months alone, recuperating with the supplies they had before making her way to Jackson.

When they had sex that night, Joel thought to himself, this was a good dream. This could not be real. So, he savored it, letting Tess bounce on him as usual, making up for lost time, before they both fell asleep content, Joel wishing he would never wake up from this dream.

Except he did wake up. The next morning. And Tess was still there sleeping soundly. Joel felt as if something was not right. What was it? Hearing Ellie’s alarm clock down the hall snapped him out of his wondering. He got dressed, careful not to wake Tess, and went downstairs to prepare something for Ellie. She came down, sat in front of him, looked at him with hesitant eyes and asked:

“So, what are you going to do about Annie?”

Shit. This was not a dream. This was real.

Fuck. Annie.

Joel’s insides froze. Annie. He was with Annie. He was holding her hand when he saw Tess. And he let go… to kiss Tess full on the lips… in front of Annie. And then he just… left her there.

Fuck.

Joel knew immediately how much he had fucked up.

He needed to go to Annie. He had to explain.

But explain what exactly?

‘Hi baby, I’m sorry I let go of your hand, but I was out of my fucking head cause I thought I was seeing a ghost and then when it turned out she wasn’t one I kissed her full on in front of you cause I was glad she was alive, left you there, and then cheated on you’????

Doesn’t seem like the best excuse. Ellie was still staring at him, expecting an answer. His mind was blank. There was nothing he could think of that would excuse his appalling behavior.

“Dude, you need to tell her something. Are you breaking up with her? Or are you telling Tess about her? But you need to do something. Figure out what you want,” she said. As if he didn’t know that. Although annoyed that he was being schooled by a 15-year-old, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed of himself.

As he walked Ellie to school that morning, she told him what she thought of this situation. She thought Joel would be much happier with Annie. Annie was the person he chose, not the person he happened to work well with out of some desperate situation, regardless of how long he had known the ladies. Although she was glad Tess survived and was in Jackson with them, she didn’t think Tess was what he needed. Annie brought softness in him, calmness. His nightmares stopped after Annie came into his life. And while she didn’t know Tess for long, she doubted that Tess brought those things out of Joel. But of course, it’s his decision. But he needed to make one. Walking home from school, he was joined by Tommy and Maria, who, annoyingly, parroted the same sentiment Ellie did.

They had a point. He was a changed man with Annie, for the better, and everyone could clearly see it. She calmed him, soothed him. When they were on the road with Tess, his sleep was interrupted with nightmares of Sarah. When he thought Tess died, they began to intersperse with visions of Tess burning and telling him she loved him. When they got to Jackson, that changed into the fairytale happy family which nightmarish quality was crudely brought to reality every time he woke up, leaving him in doubts and guilt, every time.

Those nightmares stopped completely when he met Annie. Those of Sarah, of Tess. No more nightmares. Rested. Only deep, peaceful sleep, even when she was not in his arms at night. He liked this new version of himself. He needed to tell Tess the truth before going to Annie to beg for her forgiveness. When he got home, Tess was waiting for him. Her hopeful face lit up when she saw him. As they were drinking their morning coffee, Joel braced himself to tell her about Annie. But Tess spoke first.

“I hope you won’t be too turned off by these”, she said, gesturing at the visible burn marks on her face, neck and shoulder. “I cannot believe Jackson is real. I am aware that you and Ellie have your own lives now, but I guess we can give being a normal couple a shot now, huh? A real shot at happiness? Be a family? The three of us?”

Joel was tongue-tied. The guilt that haunted him before came rushing back, despite the logic that filled his heart moments ago. He had often wondered what his true feelings for her were, and now he had the chance to find out. Shouldn’t he give it a shot so he would know once and for all and be done with it? Annie would understand, he just needed to tell her, and explain everything. After all, she was aware of his feelings and unresolved questions regarding Tess.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s give it a shot”.

The smile that lit up Tess’s face made him think he had made the right choice.

When Ellie came home from school and learnt of the decision, she didn’t look too pleased, but hugged Tess anyway. Joel thought he saw the smile on Tess’s face faltered, only to be turned back on. When Tess went to shower, Ellie asked him what about Annie? Joel explained his side of the decision, promising to tell Annie about it. Ellie shook her head disappointingly but hugged him in support anyway. Tommy and Maria did not look too pleased when Tess told them the news either, but smiled and hugged her, welcoming her to the family anyway. Like Ellie, they quietly warned Joel to talk to Annie. To not abandon her fully. Joel was starting to get exasperated by all this meddling, talking to him as if he was a child who needed reminding.

That evening, while Maria was showing Tess around town, Joel went to the warehouse to talk to Annie. But as he was approaching the door, Maria and Tess were on their way out, and he saw Annie inside, head down, looking forlorn, trying to be strong, having been introduced to Tess face to face for the first time. The look on her face hurt him. He was the cause of that. Gone was the smile that had only begun to grace that face these few weeks ago, a slight downturn of the quivering lips replaced it, as if to stop herself from crying. Tess hugged him tight, thinking he was there to walk her home, and gave him a kiss. When he looked through the window, all he saw was Annie rushing away, looking as if she was crying.

Tomorrow, he thought. He will find her tomorrow. He had to talk to her. He must.

But during those few weeks, Tess did not leave Joel alone at all. She was with him wherever he went, some parts of the bodies always connected, at her insistence. It was as if she was nervous that she would be turned away, chased out of Jackson if she wasn’t with him, or that he would float away from her. She insisted that being with him was the only way the town would accept her quickly, because she was with Joel Miller. He couldn’t get away. He contemplated telling her about Annie just so he could go see her, but Tess’s newfound insecurity about the burns on her body made him think that she would not take him having a new and stunningly beautiful girlfriend when he thought she was dead well.

A month in, he found Ellie standing in front of the warehouse, looking as if she was contemplating going in, Annie inside, talking to Maria while perusing a ledger of sorts. Joel wanted so badly to go in, but Tess was just behind him, and Joel led Ellie away from the warehouse. As they were walking away, Joel’s hand was on Ellie’s stiff shoulder, walking a few steps ahead from Tess. She caught up with them, and quickly took his other hand and placed it on her hip. She asked Ellie what she was doing in front of the warehouse, and the teenager answered with some horrifically bad joke about looking for rats to feed some younger kids as a prank, laughing uncomfortably while doing so. Tess laughed out loud, and though Joel could tell Ellie was lying, he gave a small laugh anyway. When they got home, Ellie pulled Joel into the backyard, telling him that he needed to speak to Annie soon, as she couldn’t bear to see how sad and alone she was. Even Tommy and Maria couldn’t bear to talk to her about this, afraid that they might say the wrong thing. Plus, this was Joel’s mess to clean up, not theirs. It was not their place. It had to be him, as if he didn’t already know that.

What Joel didn’t tell anyone was, his nightmares were back. But this time, it was just Sarah, standing in a fenced yard, looking at him sadly. Try as he might, he could not get over the fence. As the weeks went by, she looked sadder and sadder, and over time, her sad expressions turned into disappointment. Joel always woke up feeling like an asshole, a coward, a failure. And he knew exactly why. He knew he had to come clean, but Tess being so vulnerable and self-conscious right now, he needed to be alone to talk to Annie. But try as he might, Tess was not ready to go solo in her day-to-day business. Every time he tried to even suggest she went off on her own, to be independent, she found some excuse not to do it. Joel was stuck. Every time he saw Annie in town, his heart lurched. She was looking tired, like she had lost some weight and lacked a good night’s rest. She was always alone. Walking or eating with her head down. Joel wanted so badly to go to her, but with Tess there, he had to be careful. They were giving being a couple a shot, so the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Tess, but at the same time, he desperately wanted to talk to Annie, to make her smile again. Heck, he would take her wrath at full blast, would accept her never talking to him again, even a beating or two if it meant she wouldn’t be sad anymore.

At this thought, Joel was starting to resent Tess’s separation anxiety, and was beginning to see the consequences of his actions. Ellie had stopped talking to them both, resenting Joel’s cowardice, blaming his blind loyalty to Tess for it, only giving short answers when asked. Tess had chalked it to her being a moody teenager rather than ask her what she was angry about. Tommy and Maria stopped talking to them about personal things, only speaking to them when work was concerned. No more dinners together, no more double dates. All three of them making it quite clear to Joel that he was being cruel to both ladies. That he needed to sit down and reflect on what the fuck he was doing. To stop letting guilt eat him up. Tess was alive. She didn’t die, so all the guilt he felt that led to him going along with her needs shouldn’t conquer him anymore. That his indecisiveness and cowardice were making the three of them the bad guys as well. So, make his mind up already, for fuck’s sake.

That was when Joel really thought of things. After being with Tess for two months in a domestic setting that they could only dream of pre-Jackson, he didn’t feel any different to what he did before. He began to realize that even in an ideal setting such as this, he was never going to see Tess as a life partner.

Personality wise, Tess was strong and dominant, immovable, never taking any nonsense from anyone, and had a grit to her attitude that made people listen. That was why they were so successful back in Boston. She was the mastermind; he was the muscle. They worked well together because of that. But despite caring about her a lot back then, he was never in love with her. Even now, Tess made the decisions in the house. She decided everything, what they eat, which shifts to take, where they go, who they should be friends with. She was determined to make this relationship she had wished they had back in Boston a success, to be seen and known as a couple. To be a real couple. Any time Joel tried to suggest something, she managed to steer him her way, and his guilt-riddled mind would cave.

Being physical with Tess felt… forced. She initiated them. Whether at home or in public, she took his hand to hold, to wrap around her. It was always her who kissed him, and never the other way around. And somehow, these touches felt wrong in his hands. Despite knowing her for so long, holding her hand and having his arm around her waist just felt odd. Awkward. Their arrangement in Boston didn’t lead to those things. Sex still felt like scratching an itch, an act, he realized, he had never initiated since her arrival in Jackson. She would just climb on top of him, get him ready and take and take and take. Despite participating in the most intimate experience two humans can possibly partake in, there was no physical contact apart from the obvious. There was no intimacy. No connection. It was more of a race to orgasms. That kiss they shared upon her arrival was as intimate as they had ever gotten. After, they would just go to sleep. She would spoon him sometimes, but he never felt the need or desire to do that to her. There was never any pillow talk, no heart to heart, no talking about their innermost desires.

Annie, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of Tess. She was soft and submissive, but not necessarily weak. Being alone all those years made her tough and decisive when making choices for herself, but since joining Jackson she was more considerate of others, having realized that she needed to change slightly, now that she was no longer the only person that mattered, that she lived in a society, in a relationship, in fact. Any decision they made as a couple was always made together, and she had never forced her ideas and preferences on Joel, choosing instead to let him move at his own pace, content with what he had been willing to give her. Even now, when he had selfishly distanced himself from her, not once had she forced her presence on him and his family, despite how sad it obviously made her.

Physically, there was no comparison. Their connection was instant, Joel immediately comforted by her mere presence. Joel had never felt the intimacy they had with each other with anyone else. Not even Sarah’s mother, certainly not with Tess. Sex was not sex. It was making love. An equal need, often initiated together, spontaneously, both wanting to please each other, both giving and taking. And before Tess’s arrival, he found himself desperate to hold her after, enjoying the feeling of her body against his, both of them unburdening themselves of their innermost thoughts and insecurities with each other. Her hand in his felt right, as if her hand was what was missing from his own. His hand on her hips or around her waist and shoulder felt like they belong there. Every touch fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

The thing that Joel realized was that it was not Tess’s fault. She had not changed. She was the same person she was during their smuggling days. The only difference was that they no longer had to struggle to survive from day to day. They had a nice house, all the amenities they needed, all the food they could eat. And still Joel felt that she was the one making the effort to make this relationship work, as staccato and routine as the relationship was. It was as if she wanted this more than he did. Which was how it had always been. Nothing had changed. Whilst he did love her, he realized now, for certain, that he was not in love with her. She was someone he worked with, and stuck with out of familiarity and need, a mutually beneficial relationship, but it was never love, at least not for him. He had let his guilt take over and ran his life with it.

Whereas Annie was someone he instantly connected with. Maybe it was savior complex, but he was pulled to her from the start, even when she was near death on that track, almost completely covered in snow. Their relationship was not one of convenience. He chose to begin one with her, making the effort to get to know her better, and kept on working to move forward in the relationship, taking small steps to bigger things each time. He opened up to her. And he knew for certain that he would have told her about the new nightmare that was plaguing him. He knew he was in love with her.

Joel kicked himself upon this realization. He was in love with Annie. Not Tess. It was never Tess. He needed to tell Annie, and even if she decided he was no longer worth her time, even if she hated him with all her being, he would respect that. But he could no longer live in this delusion he had stupidly created for himself.

That night, he told Tess that this domestic dream of theirs was not going to work. That they should go back to being friends. Tess looked disappointed but seemed to pull herself together. They gave it a shot, and obviously, his feelings hadn’t changed. She asked if there was someone else. He was truthful, saying that he was with someone when she came back into his life, and that he hurt her when he decided to give the relationship a go. But when Tess asked who the person was, he chose to keep quiet. They decided that he would sleep on the couch until Maria could arrange for another house for Tess, and that they would respect each other enough to remain friends and keep working together if needs must.

The next day, Tess acted no different than usual, no resentment, no tantrums, no emotional breakdowns. They were due to go on a supply run with Tommy and Maria. Joel planned to talk to them both then, about the separation and the need to find Tess another place to settle in. He told Ellie his decision over breakfast, the teenager barely able to contain her elation at the news. It was not that she didn’t like Tess. She just wanted Joel to be happy, and he was much happier and more relaxed when he was with Annie. Joel decided to drop by the warehouse after the run, and walk Annie home, just like he did all those months ago, beg for her forgiveness, and hope for the best.

But when they got to the gate, Annie was there, armed, and ready to go on the run with them. Maria quickly pulled Joel aside and explained the purpose of the trip, and as the person in charge of the library, her eyes would be useful for this run. Resigned, Joel decided to delay his news until they get back – he didn’t want to hurt Tess’s feelings further by announcing their separation in the presence of the woman he was leaving her for. He owed her that much.

They walked at a distance from each other, Tommy and Maria up front, Annie in the middle, and Joel and Tess at the rear, eyes forward, occasionally turning around to watch their surroundings. This was the longest Joel had been in Annie’s presence in the two months they had been separated, and it seemed, as hard as he tried, he could not help himself from looking at her, wishing she would turn around to see her face.

“It’s her, isn’t it? The woman you are in love with?” Tess asked.

Joel couldn’t answer. As much as he wanted to admit to it, he didn’t want Tess to know like this. So, he kept quiet. But his silence was all the answer Tess needed.

“She’s very pretty. Is she nice to Ellie?” she pressed.

Again, Joel kept quiet.

“It’s okay Miller. I get it,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Joel offered.

“It’s okay Joel. We’ll still be friends. You cannot get rid of me that easily. I came back from the dead, you know?” she joked with a mischievous look on her face.

They both laughed softly, not wanting to make much noise. Joel felt lighter. Somehow, Tess being in the know made it better. Made him hopeful that this would be alright. But for now, he would walk alongside Tess, and do his job.

When the clickers came, their years of fighting off clickers together came into play. It was muscle memory. Working as a duo instead of individually. Every now and again, Joel would look for Annie. She seemed to be doing fine, killing it, in fact, literally. Her moves were practiced and practical, efficiently fending off clicker after clicker, before disposing them with a single gunshot. His attention was pulled back to Tess, a clicker had managed to get on top of her, Tess struggling to fight it off. No, Joel thought. He was not going to let this happen again, no matter what happened between them. He rushed over, pulled the clicker off her, and shot it. He pulled Tess up, and checked her for bites, a force of habit now, ever since he missed the bite she took back in Boston.

Satisfied that she was alright, he looked for Annie, wanting to check on her. He saw her, just disappearing behind some trees. He was quick to follow, ignoring Tess’s calls behind him, silently checking that Tommy and Maria were doing alright on his way. As he turned the corner, he saw her, face bloodied from a nosebleed, standing stock still facing something he couldn’t see. She saw him and put a finger to her lips. Joel raised his gun, aware that there must be a clicker around, its hearing tampered by the sounds coming from the stream. He moved quietly further up and saw the clicker. He pulled the trigger, but nothing but a small click came. He had run out of bullets.

As he was frantically trying to think of how to get Annie to safety without alerting the creature, Tess came into sight, realizing too late the clicker’s presence, and her foot fell heavily on a large twig. The clicker turned to her and snarled, stance at the ready to attack. Tess didn’t move, seemingly frozen to the spot, gun in hand not even raised to shoot. The clicker began to make its move, but before it could, a gunshot rang, and the clicker changed direction.

Towards Annie.

Joel felt as if everything slowed down. Annie took a step back and fell, the clicker getting nearer and nearer. Joel started running towards her, and saw Tess snap out of her trance, raising her gun, aiming at the clicker. Joel thought he saw the clicker bite Annie on the shoulder, eliciting a scream from her. It’s okay, he thought. Tess’s infections burnt off. Maybe they could try that. Tess will shoot the clicker. Everything will be alright.

But no shots came. He saw Tess hesitate. She fucking hesitated. In all the years he had known her, Tess had never hesitated with a shot. The clicker was fully on Annie now. She was using all her might to fend it off. Joel heard her scream.

A blood curdling, full-bodied scream. And then silence, save for the snarling of the clicker.

Joel reached Tess’s side. He snatched the gun away from her, aimed and shot. The clicker fell off Annie, who was now no longer moving. He stared at Tess, who couldn’t meet his eyes. He tossed the gun back at her, before going to Annie, kneeling beside her, refraining from gathering her in his arms.

His heart sank.

***graphic descriptions of injuries and killing below *** -------------------------------------------------------------

She was not only bitten, she was mauled. Chunks of flesh missing from her neck and shoulder, blood gushing from the wide-open artery on her neck. No amount of fire can help her, not without killing her. Joel held her limp hand. It was cold. Too cold.

“Annie, baby? It’s me. Look at me baby. I’m right here. I’m here baby. Please look at me. I love you. Please forgive me. I love you, Annie. I am so in love with you. Please baby. Look at me. Hang on for me okay”, he pleaded, tears pouring down his face.

Annie did not respond. It was as if she couldn’t hear him. Her breathing was ragged, frothy, gurgled - each stricken breath pumping more blood out of her neck.

Tommy and Maria arrived, both in disbelief at what they came to face. Joel kept pleading for Annie to look at him, but to no avail. Her eyes focused on the sky. She didn’t look scared. In fact, she seemed at peace. As if she knew this was it. Joel held her jaw, careful not to move her, and she seemed to come out of a trance, eyes looking at Tommy, and then Maria, and then Tess. Tommy turned around. Tears wet on his cheeks. Maria struggled with her own tears, trying hard not to scare Annie. And Tess… Tess looked… guilty.

Joel saw her beautiful brown eyes turning cloudy. The hand he was holding now starting to twitch. The infection was coming and coming fast. He had to end this. He squeezed her hand, leaned in and whispered that he loved her one more time, that he was sorry, and kissed her temple. Not that it helped. Her eyes were still looking around, searching. He stood up, his chest heavy with regret, already mourning the inevitable. He took the gun out of Tess’s hand. And that’s when he saw Annie’s eyes finally fixed on him. The eyes that he had missed so much, but had stupidly avoided these last couple of months, because he was too cowardly, too in his own head with his own dilemmas and indecisiveness to face them. And now that he had finally made up his mind, ready to forge a life of happiness with them, those eyes were closing for good. He had to do it. Before those eyes turn into the red, cold, snarling ones of the enemy. He had to do it, so he could remember her like this.

And so, with her beautiful eyes fixed on him, he tearfully looked at them one last time, and took his aim. But the life of him, he found that he could not do it. So reluctantly, he closed his eyes, turned his head the other way, and pulled the trigger.

AFTERMATH

The walk back to Jackson was uncomfortably silent. Joel walked alone up front, not wanting to be with anyone. Tommy had his arms around Maria, who was quietly sobbing. Tess in the rear, her face unreadable.

Joel buried Annie by the river, not accepting help from anyone. His hands all bloody from the branches he used to dig a shallow grave, before picking Annie up to finish the deed. He held her close for ages, shoulders shaking with silent sobs for his lost love. He worked silently, not looking at anyone.

Behind him, Maria and Tommy were questioning Tess about what happened. When Tess told them, a strangely quiet, yet deafening whispered shouting match ensued, worried that more clickers might be nearby. Tess readily admitted she hesitated on the shot – afraid to shoot Annie by mistake. Tommy blew at her, accusing her of letting Annie die on purpose so she could have Joel to herself, Maria attempting to calm him down. Tess swore up and down it was an honest mistake. It was quite a sight.

When Joel had placed Annie in the grave, Tommy and Maria paid their respect, but when Tess attempted to do the same, Joel held her back, and asked her if she did it on purpose.

“I swear on my life Joel. No. I didn’t,” she said.

Tess squatted by the grave, and quietly said something to Annie. When she stood up, Joel looked at Annie’s beautiful face one last time, covered it with his jacket, and buried her. He placed some river rocks on her grave and left. No one said anything to him, and that was how it was all the way to Jackson.

When the gates opened, Ellie was there waiting for Joel, an eager look on her face, wondering if he had talked to Annie yet. When Annie was nowhere to be seen, she clocked the somber looks on everyone’s faces, and started panicking. She kept asking Joel where she was. Joel didn’t answer. He didn’t even stop. He kept walking. Tess and Maria held Ellie and before long she was screaming at Joel, telling him this was all his fault. He’s the reason she was dead. Tommy pulled her to him, and she crumbled, screaming that she didn’t get to say goodbye, and it was all Joel’s fault. She screamed that he was a coward, a cruel, heartless bastard for what he did to Annie.

Tess stood there, taking all this in. She had no idea this was all going on, and that these three were in the know about Joel’s relationship with Annie. Suddenly the gravity of her arrival made sense to her, and she felt like someone who was thrown into the deep end of a pool she didn’t even know existed. She ran to the house she had shared with Joel and Ellie, but Joel was not there.

Joel did not go home. Instead, he kept walking, until he was faced with the little cottage he hadn’t visited since Tess’s arrival. Annie had started a small garden. Flowers and herbs everywhere, making the cottage look idyllic, fairy-tale-like. He walked in and was immediately greeted by her scent. The cottage looked different, little touches of Annie that he was familiar with, and yet had not seen. He saw a glimpse of Annie’s solitary activities, done to fill her time in his absence. A handwoven rug here, a new painting there. Some new pottery decorated the shelves, a couple still drying by the windowsill, and a half-made scarf on her favorite armchair. He went into her bedroom. His heart sank at the sight of his flannel on her pillow. He had left it there the morning after he stayed over that day. He picked it up and brought it to his face. It smelled of her.

She must have worn it every night since he left. His scent completely gone from it, replaced by the sweet ones of hers that he missed so much. For the first time since Sarah, Joel wailed. The amount of regret he felt was unbearable. He would do anything, give anything to take it all back, to turn back time to their happy days together. He would never have let go had he known the amount of pain he would be in. He laid on her bed, surrounded himself with her, and sobbed himself to sleep.

Weeks passed. Joel hadn’t returned home. No one had seen him around Jackson. Tommy, Maria and Ellie took turns sending him food at Annie’s cottage, which remained clean and well-maintained. Joel had not sat idle. He was determined to keep her memory alive, at least for himself. But he still had not spoken to anyone. They tried, oh how they tried to talk to him, but he moved about his activities as if they were not there. Tess had tried to visit, but every time she approached, Joel went into the house and slammed the door.

At his house, Ellie had been avoiding Tess at all costs. Tommy told her what happened, and she very openly blamed Tess for Annie’s death. Neither her nor Tommy was speaking to Tess, and the rest of the town, well, the fire of gossip made it worse. She was the scorned woman who got dumped by Joel Miller and made sure he didn’t have the woman he loved to go running back to, not that they were brave enough to say that to her face. As much as they town loved to talk, Tess was still a formidable woman, and no one dared cross her. Maria, it seemed, was the only friend Tess had left, telling her to give them all some time.

It all came to a head one day when Tess tried again to speak to Joel. Tommy, Maria and Ellie were there, helping Joel tend to the small garden of herbs Annie had planted. Tommy and Ellie began yelling at her to go away. And that was when Tess lost it.

“You know, until the day she died, I wasn’t even aware of this whole drama. She was just the nice lady who worked at the library and warehouse to me. No one told me. And now she’s gone it’s all my fault?” she said, eerily calm for someone who had lost her patience.

“It is not my fault you agreed to give us a try, Joel. It’s not my fault that you were too cowardly to tell me the truth, and too fickle and fucking undecisive to follow your own heart. And you two, Tommy, Ellie. It is not my fault that you two decided to ignore her during those times. And you know what? It is not Joel’s fault either. Both of you could’ve just remained friends with her and kept her company. Heck, Maria did. And yet, you two CHOSE not to, because it would make YOU uncomfortable. And now that she’s gone and you feel guilty for treating her like shit, you want to blame ME??? Blame Joel???” she continued, her voice raised slightly.

“I am done being quiet about this. I am sorry I hesitated to take the shot, because I couldn’t bear to think that I might have killed the love of Joel Miller’s life. I replay that scene in my head all the time. Would I have done anything different knowing what I know now? Maybe. But can I do anything about it? No!!! do I feel guilty that she died as a direct result of my hesitance? Yes. I do. Okay? I lay awake at night wishing I could take it back, but I can’t. So, I have to accept that I will live with this guilt every single day of my life, but guess what? I will live with that because I own up to my mistakes. You know why? Because I am an adult. So, I am done being held accountable for what you three CHOSE to do to spare yourselves some discomfort. Take responsibility for your own actions damn it. Grow up!”

With that, Tess took a very deep breath, and very calmly turned around, and walked off. Joel walked into the cottage and shut the door. Tommy and Ellie looked as if they had been slapped across the face. They slowly put down the tools they were using and walked home.

That night, Joel had another nightmare. Annie and Sarah were sitting in that same fenced yard, having delicate sandwiches and tea, laughing and chatting freely. Their faces were so light, so calm, so happy. Joel longed to join them but couldn’t. Each time he got over a fence, another one appeared, and no matter how much he yelled at them to let them know he was there, they couldn’t hear him. He was on the outside looking in on the two people he had loved the most. The two people he had lost and grieved for. He woke up sweating, feeling their loss all over again, his heart heavy with guilt and remorse.

As the weeks went by, Tommy and Ellie kept up with their routine of visiting Joel. Both muttered their apologies to him for blaming him for their silence towards Annie. Joel didn’t respond. Tess hadn’t attempted to visit again, giving Joel some space, but Maria told Joel that Tommy and Ellie had started communicating with her again, albeit awkwardly.

One day, just as Joel shut the door behind him after a day of cleaning the yard and chopping some wood, a gentle knock on the door came. He didn’t answer, but he heard someone settle against the door. Tess’s voice came through.

“Joel, I accept if you never want to speak to me again, if you see me as the reason for your treatment of her. There is nothing I can do about that. I need you to know that I did not mean for her to go. Joel, I have always known you don’t feel the way I do. I cannot force you to love me. I just wish you would’ve told me about her. I would’ve understood. And now…” she trailed off.

“Maria told me of the old farmhouse at the end of the Jackson perimeter. I just came here to tell you that I am moving there today. I think that’s better for me, you know? The town seems friendlier now, but I feel like this is for the best. But if you ever need a friend to talk to… Even if we don’t work as a couple Joel, I will always care about you, and I hope you feel the same for me at least.”

“Joel, I know what it feels like to kill the love of your life. When my husband and son turned… I had to… so I know… you know this. Don’t let this be the reason you stop living Joel. The guilt will never go away, but if you try, perhaps one day it won’t consume you the way it does now. She’s gone. Sarah’s gone. But you are still here. Find your purpose Joel. Ellie needs you. Tommy needs you. The town needs you. So, heal Joel. And when you are even a little bit better than you are right now, join the world again. I didn’t know her apart from the small exchanges here and there, but from what I’ve been told, she seemed like a sweet person. She wouldn’t want you to live like this, I’m sure of it. Because she loved you. And you don’t want to see the people you love sad forever, Joel. Just… think about it. I’m so sorry things didn’t turn out better. But, if you need an old friend, you know where to find me.”

With a small grunt, Tess got up and left, her backpack on her shoulders.

After she left, Joel resigned himself to the fact that he would never again be as happy as he was, that his sleep would forever be plagued with Annie’s happy face that would never acknowledge him again. That his heart would never be full again. That he would be punishing himself for his cowardice forever. He knew that. Joel had made his bed in the most fucked up, cowardly, selfish and emotionless way. There was nothing for him to do, except lie in it.

*** In the small town of Jackson, there was an abandoned house, a once idyllic, fairy-tale-looking cottage at the end of the row of houses. Rumor had it, a grumpy, moody and gruff old man called Joel Miller lived his last years there, mourning the life he let slip through his fingers. Every day, Joel Miller would tend to his garden, go out on patrol, go tend to people’s houses when they need fixing, and go back to this cottage to spend the rest of his evenings sitting on his porch. Sometimes, his brother Tommy and daughter Ellie would come join him, their children in tow. Although Joel spared smiles for his nephew and grandson, the rest of the town never saw him smile. Ladies offered themselves to him, only to be rebuffed. They said that he broke a lady’s heart once, and she died before he could confess his true feelings for her.

So, Joel lived alone, with his own thoughts, living but dead inside, forever mourning for his love. And that’s the way it went for Joel Miller.

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 5)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

It has been some time, and some of this fic has been sitting on my hard drive waiting for attention since May (wow) but tonight I finally started writing more of this. Writing muscles are still a bit rusty, but fortunately I know mostly where this is going. There is more written so hopefully I can post that soon, too.

I also feel that some fo this might be a bit familiar as there have been a lot of WIP Wednesdays since May and I have the vague feeling I posted some of this already, but there is new stuff here as well.

This one continues to be @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf, @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps' fault :D

@onereyofstarlight has been her usual amazing self, even rereading this whole thing from the beginning and helping me out with some of her specialities as well :D Thank you so much for your wonderfulness :D

This is Alexander Sweetapple so the fic is m/m. If that isn't your jam, this isn't your bread. Though I will admit, there is very little of that in this bit as Scotty is the one who is having a hard time this time :D

As always, so many thanks to Thunderfam for being the amazing kind fandom it is ::hugs the lot of you::

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Being ever so competitive, all the Tracy brothers knew how to get to any part of the villa in the shortest possible time.

Gordon availed himself of that fact the moment John called him.

He had been putting on his swim trunks ready for his morning foray in the pool. Moments later saw him leaping a Lego volcanic island and landing smoothly enough amongst the bricks to slide to Alex’s side.

“What happened?”

Alex had laid Scott in the recovery position. “He has a fever.”

Gordon ran through vitals without thought.

Scott groaned and attempted to shove him away.

“Yo, Scooter, you’re on the floor clocking a temperature somewhere in the hundreds. Give yourself a break.”

His brother mumbled something and tried to roll over and get up.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gordon grabbed him as Alex scuttled out of the way. “You are staying put until Grandma gets here.”

As if summoned by her callsign, their grandmother hurried into the room. “Scott, honey, what happened?” She stepped lightly over the Lego scattered across the floor and knelt down beside her grandson.

“I’m’kay, Granma.” Scott pushed himself into a sitting position.

Gordon growled at him, but placed a hand on his back, not convinced he wouldn’t fall over again.

“Looks like you’ve picked up Virgil’s flu, honey.”

Scott swore.

“Gordon, please find us a hoverstretcher.”

And that was how Gordon found himself dragging an obstinate and complaining, cranky big brother up to the infirmary and tucking him into a bed. The protests were of legendary proportions until Grandma brought them to a firm halt.

“I’m fine, Grandma.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“You’ve got resting to do.” She switched off the scanner and turned to put it away.

“Gordon, stop fussing!” And yes, his hands were swiped at.

He took a step back. “Fine, oh great Commander, tuck yourself in.”

And there it was, his feverish and ill brother trying to be big brother but running out of resources and struggling to hold himself up. Wet, blue eyes attempting stoicism and failing. Damnit, Scott, why do you do this?!

“International Rescue, we have a situation.” John popped up by the bed.

Oh, for the love of-!

Scott sat up, ramrod straight in the bed. “Go ahead, John.”

“We’ve got a cargo freighter foundering off the Great Barrier Reef.”

Gordon exploded. “What?! How the hell did they even get near it? Those are sanctuary waters!” Goddamnit! The remains of the Great Barrier Reef were a World Heritage Treasure. The Supreme Barrier Reef was an attempt to save the ecological system. What little was left of the actual reef off the coast of Australia was ever so precious. How the hell had they ended up in those waters at all?

John, as usual, was calm, but his expression said everything. “Investigating as we speak.” In other words, both he and Eos were out for blood.

Gordon let out a breath. Damn it was good to have a family to depend on.

“Thunderbird Two and Four responding. Get Alan down here. I need transport.”

“Gordon!”

He turned to his beloved eldest brother who was radiating heat like a blast furnace. “Alan and I have this, Commander. You’re staying in bed.” Moving towards the door, he almost collided with Alex. Stumbling, he gestured with a firm finger at Scott. “Make sure he stays put.”

Gordon tore out of the room at a run.

He had a reef, and possibly a few people, to save.

-o-o-o-

It had all happened so fast.

And Alex had no idea what he should be doing right now. He stood beside the door, not sure what to do with his hands, feet, or any body part really.

From the moment he caught Scott, events had just happened around him. The Tracy family responded smoothly and well-practised and before he knew it, Gordon was out the door, and Alex was left in the infirmary with a weak but literally vibrating Mr Tracy.

Mrs Tracy had looked at her watch and cursed. A firm finger and quiet word with the bed ridden man and she was hurrying out the door as fast as her grandchildren had moments before.

But she did brush her fingertips across Alex’s shoulder as she passed, catching his eyes enough to reinforce Gordon’s wish to keep Mr Tracy where he was.

How the hell was he going to do that?

In the distance, Alex heard the roar of Thunderbird Two as she launched from the Island.

Virgil was not going to be happy.

He let out a breath. That’s where he should be now. Virgil would be clambering out of bed. There was no way he would not respond to that sound.

A rustle of sheets and Mr Tracy was sitting upright again. “Thunderbird Five, give me comms.”

“Negative, Thunderbird One.”

“John-“

“Thunderbird Prime’s orders. You’re on sick leave, One.”

Mr Tracy swore dirty, very much not the calm, cool professional Alex was used to.

“Rest, Scooter. We’ve got this.” And the line cut out.

The man on the bed deflated like a balloon, falling back onto the mattress almost as limp as when Alex had first caught him.

An arm came up over his eyes and a barely discernible whisper crossed his lips. “Goddamnit.”

-o-o-o-

Mr Tracy lay there like that for enough time for Alex to think he had fallen asleep.

Should he leave or go? Both Gordon and Mrs Tracy had asked him to stay…really ‘ordered’ him to stay. But Virgil…

Virgil needed Alex to give him permission to relax. Virgil needed Alex to drag him back to bed to stop his headlong run into work and exhaustion.

Yet Virgil was reportedly the level-headed brother.

Virgil had often described Mr Tracy as the embodiment of his Thunderbird - fast, impatient, determined, and consequently ridiculously prone to working himself into collapse.

In Virgil’s case, it was a pot and kettle situation, but after tonight’s demonstration, Alex had first-hand experience and there was the distinct possibility that Mr Tracy would do exactly what Virgil predicted.

As if the thought was permission, Mr Tracy rolled over in the bed and pushed himself into a sitting position.

Alex blinked. “Do you really want to do that?”

The man jumped, tired eyes latching onto him and widening. “Alex?”

Stepping forward, Alex held up a hand. “I’m sorry, Mr Tracy, Mrs Tracy said you need to stay in bed.”

Those blue eyes blinked once sharply and then again but slower. “There’s a situation.” His words were running into each other.

Alex took another step closer. “Mr Tracy, you need to rest.”

He looked away, mumbling something.

“Mr-“

“Alex, my name is Scott.”

“Sorry, sir.”

That drew those eyes back to him, if only for them to roll as Mr Tracy let himself fall back onto the bed. “Augh, Alex.”

“Sorry, s-“

The man grunted.

“-cott.”

A more positive grunt and he shifted on the bed, pulling the covers over himself before fixing his eyes once again on Alex.

Those eyes had so much power.

“So, Grandma has you sitting guard.” It wasn’t a question, more of a challenge.

Alex straightened his spine. “I guess so.”

There was steel in that tired blue, but Alex held on.

Just long enough for Mr Tracy to sigh and relax back into the bed and close his eyes. “Fine.”

There was silence after that. If Alex was working for any other employer than the Tracys, he might have been afraid that he was throwing away his career future.

He wasn’t.

The silence stretched on and Alex resisted the urge to fidget. But then a soft snore wafted up from the bed.

It was followed by another.

Oh, thank god.

Alex wilted where he stood, suddenly aware of exactly how early in the morning it was. A chair beside the bed beckoned, so Alex edged over as silently as possible and curled up.

He watched the bed covers move evenly up and down as Scott slept.

Up and down.

In and out.

Up and…down.

His eyes dropped closed.

-o-o-o-

Next

[bitletsanddrabbles]

[Fic] The Glory, the Shame

This is what happens when I try to come up with something to write at 7:00 am on Veteran's Day - you get Thomas and Peter sitting on @alex51324 's Island of the Gays philosophizing.

Not certain I'm going to include this one in the Island Sandbox, since it is now about twelve hours after I started, I am tired, and not at all certain it hits the right notes. But it's a thing and I wrote it, so here. Can be read as pre-relationship or just buddies, as you so feel moved.

Needless to say it is beta free. Also free of guppies, goldfish, loches, koi...okay, I'm going stop now before someone hurls a salmon at my head. On to the story instead.

-

Thomas sat on the bluff outside of town, a cigarette dangling in his fingers, watching the seagulls. A stiff wind was blowing, making his cheeks sting, but at least it wasn’t raining. Most of the village had decamped to the pub, intent on reducing Tully’s whisky supply to dregs. Thomas had thought about joining them, but his heart wasn’t quite in it.

A crunching noise alerted him to the fact he was about to have company. He looked up, half expecting it to be the herd of cattle they let roam the island south of the village, but it turned out to be Peter Fitzroy.

“Mind if I join you?” the one armed man asked.

“Sure,” Thomas replied. “The ground’s none too soft, though.”

“Probably better that way. Easier to dust off after.” Peter lowered himself to the ground with his usual easy cheer. “I take it the pub was a bit crowded for you?”

“Yeah.” Thomas took a drag off his cigarette. “Don’t get me wrong, I could use a pint or two about now. Maybe three or four, but there wasn’t even standing room in there.”

“I know what you mean.” Peter pulled out his own cigarettes and worked one out of the case. Even though he was perfectly capable of lighting it himself, Thomas lite it for him. Less hassle that way. For a minute the two of them just sat and smoked. Finally Peter said, “I thought it was a lovely service.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed. It touched on all of the key points without being soppy or condescending. Father Tim did a good job.” That was one problem with people who hadn’t actually been in the war. They could easily make it sound like they had been, like they knew exactly what the soldiers had been through when it was very clear they didn’t. It tended to lead to lofty proclamations about bravery and sacrifice that stank like the mud of the Somme, or sneering dismissal of the misery that had lead to missing limbs and haunting nightmares. Admittedly, Thomas had as little patience for the nightmares as the next person, but mostly because they interrupted his sleep and he did not like being woken up, thank you very much. He understood, but…well. His nightmares never disturbed anyone except himself.

“What did you think of the suggestion that we build our own war memorial, like villages are doing on the mainland?”

Thomas frowned at that one. “I’m not entirely certain. I wouldn’t fight it, of course. But I don’t know that it would help me any.”

The other man gave him a curious look at that. “Isn’t there anyone who’s gone that you want remembered?”

“Maybe.” Thomas took a slow drag and thought for a second before blowing out a long stream of smoke. There was Lord Flintshire’s valet, and a couple of other servants who had visited Downton frequently, but they’d been friends, not lovers. He didn’t know if anyone here would even know them. “I’m the one who didn’t know anyone in London, remember? Yeah, there were blokes I had it off with now and again, but never more than a couple of times. The people I’d really care about, well. They weren’t our sort. Seems a bit pointless to put them on there.”

“Hm. I suppose.” The other man allowed. “Then again, there are those of us who would want brothers on there, so I don’t know that it would have to be just our sort.”

“I still don’t know if any of my brothers made it through,” Thomas admitted. “I might be the last one standing.” He tried not to look at his gloved hand, but his eyes flickered to it involuntarily as he stretched his fingers.

Thankfully, the other man didn’t seem to notice. “Is there anyone you could write to find out? Or do you not want to?”

Thomas shrugged. “My sister, perhaps, if she’d write back to me. I don’t know that I’d bother, though. They might as well all be dead, as much as we pay attention to each other. Again, I don’t see that there’s anything to be gained by knowing.”

“That’s fair, I suppose.” The two of them lapsed into silence for a bit. Again, it was Peter who broke the silence. “What do you suppose Kit’s doing?”

“He planned on spending the day working on play bills for the theatre’s next production,” Thomas replied. “If he finishes that, he’ll probably read or something like that, I’d imagine. I’ve told him not to feel poorly about it, that he was well out of it, but. Well. No one likes to feel like they didn’t do their bit.”

“If they were clever they would.” Peter frowned, the expression out of place on his normally cheerful face. “I keep trying to tell Davy Hall that no one’s looking down on him for not serving, but you can tell he doesn’t believe it.”

“Davy?” Thomas looked askance at the other man. “You’re joking.” The other man shook his head. Thomas blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. “The man had rheumatic fever as a boy. The doctors expect him to drop dead of a hear attack or have his kidneys give out any day now, and he’s bemoaning the fact that he failed his physical and they wouldn’t let him go get shot at because his health might give out before the Germans got him?”

Peter gave a rueful sort of smile and a one sided shrug. “Apparently his brothers both died, so he really is the last one standing. And he’s here, so it’s not as if the line is going to continue. I think he feels as if, had he gone, one of his brothers might have survived.”

Thomas was aware of that sort of thinking, but he couldn’t imagine feeling that way about anything. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, even if I was expected to die young, I can not imagine feeling that suicidal.”

The comment earned him a sideways look that couldn’t decide whether to be fond or exasperated. “No, I can’t imagine you could. You’re too determined to live.”

His cigarette half way to his lips, Thomas froze. He slowly turned to look at the other man, gauging whether that comment had meant what he thought it did. When Peter lifted his eyebrows and shot a look at Thomas’s glove, that was a pretty clear answer. “Figured it out, have you?” Thomas replied, smiling tightly, trying to make a joke of it. He supposed if the other man was going to get him kicked off of the island, he’d have done it by now, and he didn’t seem like the sort for blackmail.

“Yeah.” Peter turned and crushed out his cigarette. “Several of us have. Me, Tully, Jessop, Rouse.”

“Dr R knows?” Thomas cringed. Oh, that couldn’t be good.

“He does.” The other man gave him a wan smile. “He doesn’t blame you, though. None of us do. If you get right down to it, you were the clever one, getting out of there rather than waiting for the Huns to drop a shell on your head.” He nodded to the glove and added, “Not to mention you could easily have died of infection. Difficult to call someone a coward when they’re doing something they know full well could kill them.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about that at the time,” Thomas admitted. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing he could do, but if Peter didn’t think poorly of him already, he doubted the truth would change that too much. “I just, I’d had it. I’d signed up to help save them that could be saved, not to die for a country that would just as soon kill me themselves. Or lock me away for two years and then let someone beat me to death when I got out, which is close enough.” He crushed out his own cigarette, then, after a moment’s thought, went to get another.

Peter shrugged. “You’re not wrong. And I still don’t blame you.” His eyebrows knit together and he asked, curiously, “Although, if I might ask, how did you manage it? It’s a difficult shot to manage yourself.”

“I didn’t manage it myself.” Thomas tucked his lighter away and blew smoke into the air. He would never understand how some people managed not to smoke. What did they do for their nerves? “I took myself out to a nice, quiet corner of the trench, lit m’self a cigarette, and then held my hand up over the wall. A German sniper took care of the rest for me.”

Oddly, that garnered a smile from the other man. “Well, that was nice of him. Did you send him a thank you note?”

“No,” Thomas scoffed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t exactly in any condition for it. Too much morphine. Who knows? By the time I was thinking clearly again, he was probably dead anyway.”

“Probably.”

They were quiet again, for a stretch. This time Thomas broke it. “How long have you known?”

“Several months now. We put it together about the time Gordon ran off.”

“Blimey.” Thomas blinked at that. “And it took this long for any of you to say something?”

Peter shrugged. “It didn’t seem important, really. After all, who decided it was cowardice? And who decided that cowardice was something to die over? A bunch of men who never left England, except on holiday? The men who wished they had the guts to do something like that?” He looked down at his own shoulder. “I may not have invited a German sniper to have a shot at me, but I wasn’t exactly crying when they told me I couldn’t carry a stretcher anymore.”

“I should think not.”

“We did our bit. Then we went home. It’s what we said we’d do.”

“Too right.”

“We’re just lucky we made it.” Peter gave a salute to the clouds. “To the Glorious Dead.”

“And the Inglorious Living,” Thomas added, giving his own salute.

The other man leaned in, resting the stump of his shoulder against Thomas’s. “Glorious or not, I’m just as glad to have you hear instead of lying under poppies in France.”

“Thanks.” Thomas smiled and looped an arm around the other mans’ back to help them both stabilise. “I could say the same.”

[galadhir]

i think that there was a fanwriter named Nemis that wrote a lot of fics about E/C? i liked those fics!

My memory has never been good and after 20 years away it's completely unreliable, but still, that name rings a bell. I vaguely remember her being a nice person that I was aware of but never really interacted with because our areas of interest didn't quite intersect.

i hoped the show would give some spot to Celebrian … and instead. lol.

Indeed! I can just picture the show writers turning their noses up at the thought of writing Galadriel as a mother. She can't be a mother! Whoever heard of a mother being interesting? No one would think it was cool for Galadriel to be an actual queen and seasoned diplomat and seer, with a husband and a child.

Not to mention that Celebrian can't be interesting at all because she dies as a damsel in distress, so she must be a wimp all her life (ignoring the fact that everybody dies in distress.) People can't imagine that her life could have been interesting before that :( Sexism and failure of imagination again.

it would be interesting to see if anyone else had my idea … of course i have not read all the Galadriel/Celeborn fics out there so if someone has those, feel free to drop!

LOL! I'm sorry to end up dropping my own fics on you, but it sounds like you might enjoy my Oak and Willow

(Ignore all the tags, they were auto-imported from Henneth Annun when that archive backed up all its stories on Ao3 and then shut down.) And you can probably ignore chapters 1-4 if you're just in it for the C/G romance. They are world building for Doriath and setting up Celeborn's position in his home, with Thingol, Melian, Luthien and Daeron.

I originally started out intending this one to be a Sindarin history of the world, from the rising of the sun and the moon. But it rapidly became the story of C&G in the First Age. If I had known it was just going to be their love story against a backdrop of the events of the First Age, I might have left off chapter 1 at least, as that was setting up something I didn't actually write in the end.

But it is more or less what you're talking about. So if you're interested, you might like it :)

oh that's interesting, may i ask if it's still online? my beef with peter jackson started muuuuch later with the hobbit movies, but i like to see how other people reacted to the LOTR trilogy when it comes out

Yes, Battle of the Golden Wood is on Ao3 too - also imported from HASA (Henneth Annun Story Archive, which was the place to post elf fanfic back in the day.)

I agree with you about the Hobbit movies! Way too much bloat. There was the occasional nice thing in them - I enjoyed seeing Beorn's house and his bees, for example - but almost everything that PJ put in was grotesque and unfunny and unnecessary. The Hobbit would have made one great film, but there just isn't enough story in it to stretch to three.

as for what you say … i think that that's the current approach of Warner Bros, with its War of the Rohirrim stuff or whatever. i'm not enthusiast about it at all and i would probably complain about it too,

I know what you mean. I'm not enthusiastic either about a Rohirrim spin-off because it seems like they've picked the most low-effort story imaginable. Yes, you can use props from The Vikings and Game of Thrones. You can probably crib story lines from Bernard Cornwell's Anglo-Saxon stories. Have we not seen enough pseudo-early-medieval stories already?

I would have liked to see something we haven't seen before! (Which doesn't mean I won't at least check out the first season. But my hopes are not high.)

i do not want to be mean but btw i do have the feeling that a lot of rop fans are mostly migratory dark romance fans

Oh, the Reylo folks from Star Wars? That would actually make an awful lot of sense. They certainly behave like them. I managed to avoid them by being in the Kylux fandom at the time, and the Kylux fandom was numerous enough to just block them all and carry on doing our own thing regardless. Also a good time :)

it's lowkey … limitating? flattening? because neither galadriel nor sauron fit into this archetype and i do think that forcing them in this dynamic … just doesn't make them sauron and galadriel anymore? but i digress

I know exactly what you mean. I've mostly spent my fandom life in slash (m/m) fandom and there is a migratory slash fandom which is the same. If a pairing gets big enough then the msf will arrive and reduce it to a set of tropes and stereotypes, and then move on to the next big thing as soon as it arrives. In that case, you just have to wait for the next big thing and hope there is someone left still writing to pick up the fandom once they've gone.

Yeah at this point i do honestly wish that everyone can write its own retelling of lotr and publish it.

At least there is the opportunity for us to do it in Ao3, even if we're not allowed to make money on it. We can do it for love :)

Hoo, boy. I am definitely going to unfollow the Celeborn tag again, since it's full of Haladriel shippers arguing that Celeborn stans are harassing them.

I'm not getting into whether that's true. I have no interest in Rings of Power, and as far as I am concerned, Halbrand does not exist in Tolkien's world. I can't be somewhere where people mix Amazon's fanfiction with actual lore.

Also ship wars are not for me. I was a massive Celeborn defender during the release of the movies, and I wrote several novels worth of fanfic then. I think I'm spent.

Still, as a Celeborn fan I thought the Celeborn tag would be a great place to go to find stuff about Celeborn. How could I have been so foolish!

My poor lad! Not even his own tag is about him. Which is exactly what I should have expected, now I come to think about it.

[nenoname]

stan twins the canon cptsd brothers i will always think about all your unaddressed issues that would make perfect plot fuel for your spinoff

and also the whole 'stan getting that poem by bill via a website which contrasts with bill getting one from the axolotl via a website' foreshadowing thing

like idk i would love something like su future but like more optimistic, aka not an accumulated breakdown that has to be mostly resolved off screen at the end :/// but something thats being kinda addressed throughout? (although would love to see one of them turn into a monster thats always fun lol)

stan having severe issues from his dad and those years of being homeless that we keep on getting more info on but never really getting confronted on (the drifter catalogue and tijuana incident...), him being completely alone for like twenty years when running the shack before soos comes along to the point that 1998 is noted as his low point, and him not really learning about bill+what he did to ford until ages after he killed him if he ever did get the full context

while i think amnesia and everyone seeing him as a hero actually helped with stan's 'i'm a worse version of my brother' thing its still a lingering issue too and we now got him being insecure over his own hands

ford being immediately thrown from 'being tortured by bill' to 'being stuck in the multiverse and being chased by bounty hunters constantly', him fully expecting himself to die when destroying bill, and him only now being safe for the first time in 30 years ....relatively safe, he's still in constant danger because of course he is

idk in the end the series wants them to be happy and they deserve it, its why i wasn't too worried about the book being like 'ooh bill is back!! and the book is haunting ford' thing cos i knew they'll be ok

[potatobugz]

*picks you up and dips u in a vat of acid*

[rcmclachlan]

Trademark: Top-tier Bucktommy writer + generally Cool + getting Buck pregnant

Thank you + thank you + thank you!

[a-redharlequin]

-startles when someone lifts my rock and shines a flashlight on me- hiss! But also hi!

Last Song: Dark Nights by Dorothy (such a Lost Boys song!)

Favorite Color: uuuh right now, blues and greens and purples and black and greys. Couldn't pick just one 😅

Last Book: The Language of Thorns by Leigh Bardugo, The Hollow Places by T. Kingfisher, A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking by T. Kingfisher, Tales From the Hinterland by Melissa Albert, Spinning Silver by Naomi Novak, and The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett (I tend to switch between reading/listening to different things)

Last Movie: other than The Lost Boys XD That would be Rocky Horror Picture Show! Went and saw a live showing with my partner last month and we did a cozy watch of it too because the live was the first time he'd fully seen it XD

Last Show: Leverage! One of my biggest comfort shows is watching bad things happen to people in power ❤️😊 Other than that, I'm usually watching one of the D&D shows on Dimension 20!

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: I lean towards Savory! I love spicy but it doesn't always love me 😂 I usually have to be in the mood for something sweet.

Relationship Status: I have a wonderful partner who kindly shares his brain cells with me 😘

Last Thing I Googled: uuuuh googled the name of the greek goddess who rules over stars, her name is Asteria! Was thinking what Star would change her name to if she encountered the Widow Johnson, who finds out what Max has been up to, kills him and turns Star herself and Star is in a pack with the Widow's other daughters and- sorry, the plot bunnies like to run away with me and my Google history gets busy.

Current Obsession: that's a dangerous question to ask an autistic with ADHD 😂 obsession is my state of being. At present we'll narrow it down to knitting, The Lost Boys, Stranger Things, D&D, and cooking/baking! In my Martha Stewart with dice and monsters era~

Looking Forward To: getting my writing muse back, going to community college, reading more Lost Boys fics, and listening to another audiobook with my next cup of coffee ☕

I don't do these very often but here's a poke to those who might like to: @suometar @vesperlionheart @azrielgreen

ten people i'd like to get to know better

Tagged by: @blushingunderwar (ty!!<3)

Last song: Take it Easy - The Eagles

Favorite color: deep purple

Last book: actually reread The Outsiders again after many years. (still makes me tear up)

Last movie: Bones and All

Last show: Midnight Mass (my obsession with vampires continues)

Sweet/spicy/savory: spicyy, I honestly don’t have much of a sweet tooth. Which is ironic considering I love to bake.

Relationship status: single

Last thing I googled: gingerbread cookie recipes

Current obsession: 80’s movies, collecting vinyls of movie soundtracks that I love, horror comedies, green tea, coffee, always coffee

Looking forward to: Nosferatu by Robert Eggers, final season of Cobra Kai (I’m looking forward to it as much as I am dreading it), working on the next few chapters of my current fics so I can work on a new wip

Tagging: @midnight-in-santa-carla @thinkblotted @berd-alert @enquiringangel @milkbath69 @macchiatosdumptruck @kiefersgrave @dreamyyycatcher @kanescrown @junaslagoon and anyone else who’d like to do it! (no pressure of course)

[magnusbae]

Hi! What about "Can you stay with me?" (and if you'd like it my bonus prompt is "drunk") 💗

The initial draft was written while I was quite literally fainting late at night & the second one fully rewritten while I am dazed and out of it. I would say that I was method writing Obi-Wan who is indeed very much drunk in this one, dearest anon. Thank you for the prompt~ 😊💖

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Obikin || 4,004w || Drunk Obi-Wan is agonized by the prospect of his freshly knighted Padawan leaving him behind— and more. 😌 Some flavors of gentle lime in this drink, very light, very sweet. 🍋💖

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"Can you stay with me?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi sounds properly pathetic and he knows it. Grasping at Anakin’s Tabards as he is, mind swirling in hazy circles around the notion he was doing his very best to avoid thinking about for the past few months. It is not long now that Anakin would look at his Master and see him for what he really was. Perhaps even today. Inebriated as he is, he makes for a good serving of disillusionment. All Anakin needs to do is look, and see, and then…

It seems inevitable—his Padawan will leave.

Former Padawan. Anakin is no longer his Padawan, and that is the heart of it, isn’t it? The severed braid was the firs step. Them having each a battalion of their own, stationed light years away from each other with only the occasional joint mission, a second. The third and final step would be for Anakin to finally open his eyes and look, and see.

It won’t be hard to unveil the carefully crafted Jedi Master facade Obi-Wan had cultivated for the past decade. No, it won’t be hard at all. If Anakin were to stop glorifying him, stop shaping him to be what ever form of idol he had needed for while growing up, if only he were to take an unbiased look at him…

There will no longer be, Kenobi and Skywalker.

For the naked truth was, Anakin had outgrown him, had become more powerful and capable than his Master. There’s little left that Obi-Wan could still offer, still teach. He should be proud. The only one still refusing to see it, is Anakin himself. Once that revelation comes to pass however, it will be complete. A true break, as befitting the Jedi way. Obi-Wan finds no peace in the thought, no completion nor satisfaction in the successful completion of his Padawan’s training—a symbol of his own Mastery.

Not when it means losing him. Not then.

Given his state of drunkenness, words slurred and feet unsteady, he thinks that it’s worth putting to question whatever or not he was a good Jedi at all, least of all a Master. Try as he might, he finds it hard to ponder further. His choice to look inward is as always an avoidance, an escape. An easy detour from looking outward, from looking at Anakin. Anakin who’s eyes he can feel like a physical touch, boring into his very soul.

Obi-Wan’s avoidance is nearly as strong as Anakin’s natural magnetism. One is counseling him to avoid looking, save himself the pain of witnessing the exact moment in which the realization dawns upon the boy. The second, stronger still, demands his undivided attention on him, demands him to look. Demands him. 

Obi-Wan looks up, he meets those eyes, his demise.

Anakin’s eyes widen and he blinks, endless blue clearing as if coming out of some sort of shock.

“Can I—” Anakin splutters “—Obi-Wan, even if the council explicitly ordered me to go save the entire karkin universe just now, I wouldn’t be leaving your side— stars you’ve any idea what you look like right now?

Obi-Wan’s tongue is heavy but he parts his lips to answer, something clever to be sure, he always finds something to say.

“No, never mind.” Anakin cuts in before he could speak. There’s such decisiveness in his tone, such confidence. His former Padawan stands tall, his arms are strong and sure as he handles Obi-Wan closer, making him lean more of his weight against his chest. It’s broad and firm. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things, should not be aware of those things. It is a further evidence that his Padawan is well and truly grown. Further evidence of his own failing as a Jedi, as a Master, as a…man. Obi-Wan should not be inhaling and smelling home. Should not be leaning closer, itching all over for more, more.

“You’re so wasted that I am surprised you’ve even recognized me at all.” Anakin continues talking, as if the universe is not shifting beneath Obi-Wan’s feet as it is him who finally looks with his gaze unbiased. “The drunken messages though, those you will be seeing tomorrow” there’s dark mirth in that dear voice. “I bet you wanted to send them to— someone else.” Anakin glances at him, eyes narrowed.

Obi-Wan’s offenses at Anakin’s assumption he could ever not recognize him dies over under his gaze, dark and rich, his eyes are captivating. Before Anakin, he did not know that a blue can hold such multitudes. Both the clear morning sky, and the moon lit sky. Beautiful. They loosens his tongue as well as any truth serum would. That or the bottle he had finished on his own finally soaked through.

“I will always—”  His voice comes out so thick that he coughs, starting Anakin from his dark contemplations, whichever those might be. His eyebrows furrow and he quickly snatches a cup of something clear off of a passing robo-waitress’s tray. Irritated with the distraction, Obi-Wan accepts it and drinks if only to make way for the words to follow. He will not let it go. Not now that he’d started. “I will always recognize you, Padawan Mine, drugged, beaten, or otherwise preoccupied— I will always—” “Drugged?!” Anakin cuts in again, arms tightening around Obi-Wan and strangling the annoyed huff at being cut again “You did not mention anything about being drugged, what the kark’ Obi-Wan?!”

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry, similar to how being drugged would feel. His mind swims and all he sees is Anakin. There’s warmth in his chest, there’s a burn in his gut, there’s a tug in his— 

“It’s hard to tell” he says sheepishly, embarrassed, eyes straying away from Anakin’s strong jaw and up, up to the lights on the ceiling. He should not be thinking of how Anakin’s proximity is enough to replicate a strong drug. How out of orbit he feels around him as of late. “They all start the same, so…” 

Anakin is hardly listening. Instead he is surveying the club with a look of fury that is bordering on homicidal, freeing one hand to rest it on his lightsaber. There’s the distinct feeling of Anakin stretching his force signature out, covering the room, no doubt attempting to locate anyone within their proximity who might have dared drug his former Master. Oh if only he knew that he was the culprit all along. 

Obi-Wan snorts, finding an odd sense of humor in it.

Anakin’s gaze darts back to him, sharp and accusing. He looks so handsome under the colorful, dim lights. He looks so… 

“Ah-nakin.” Obi-Wan sighs out and shuts his eyes lest his spinning head forces him to sober up in the most un-jedi manner.  

“Stay with me,” the request comes so easy, what was it that he was so afraid of? It’s so easy, too easy. Frighteningly so, to reach and touch Anakin’s forearm. There’s skin beneath his touch, warm and human, tense muscles beneath. “Ah” Obi-Wan sighs out in realization. Anakin had rolled the sleeves, so very unofficial for a Jedi and yet so very Anakin of him.

Master Windu would have hated it. It wouldn’t surprise Obi-Wan if this was exact reason why Anakin did it to begin with, after all, he was most adept to handling heat and was not bothered by it even while all else were. Obi-Wan really should have reprimanded the boy more often, should have stopped Anakin from executing all those harmless little vendettas of his while growing up.

If only he did not find them to be so endearing, so amusing. If only he was a better Master, a proper Master. He would have. 

His brain is foggy and he had already forgotten what was it it that he had hoped to achieve by touching Anakin, only that his fingers are circling his wrist and touching the spot at which he can feel his life pulsing. What a terrible habit it is, being intoxicated while negotiating. You should only ever drink enough to appear drunk, never more. How is he to get what he wants, when he has no ideas what it was? 

Obi-Wan’s eyelids are heavy when he tries to blink them open and focus on Anakin. There’s the signature frown, so familiar Obi-Wan can’t help but smile. Anakin is chewing his lips, a compulsion he had never managed to rid himself of. He looks torn between the need to locate and deal with the ‘enemy’, and…. Obi-Wan. 

The way Anakin looks, that should not be reminiscent of the targets Obi-Wan opts for charm as the main form of negotiation with. Should not stir the excitement of a hunt, of a game to be won. Obi-Wan should not use his looks to achieve his goals, he should not use them to get what he wants, he should be a better man than that.

Obi-wan is not a better man. 

Licking his own dry lips, he let’s go off of Anakin’s wrist and reaches for Anakin’s cheeks. There’s a tremble in the touch, his, Anakin’s? He is not certain. 

“Dear One, you can chase your enemies tomorrow.” He speaks in a hushed murmur, he hopes he sounds soft and alluring “Tonight, will you guard this drunk Master of yours?” he looks up, through his lashes, breathing shallowly, feeling hot, hot, hot all over. 

Anakin let’s go off of the lightsaber. It’s an answer enough to what he had picked. It still is deeply gratifying to feel the boy’s hand cover his own, guide it until he wraps his arm around Anakin’s shoulders. It’s an awkward angle, with Anakin being taller than he— he cares very little for it when Anakin wraps an arm around his waist. 

“Let’s go.” He is tight lipped and determined, guiding Obi-Wan out and into a speeder that is parked not far off. If Obi-Wan was even slightly more aware, he’d realize just how much attention the pair of them had draw, how all of the eyes had followed them out. Sometimes he forgets, how famous they had become during this accursed war. Sometimes, he is glad to not remember. 

Anakin is terribly efficient at getting them to the Temple. One blink of an eye they’re flying through the busy highways of Coruscant, the next he is tossed unceremoniously onto a bed that feels and smells familiar. His bed.

They’re in his quarters. Their quarters until very recently. He is breathing harder and he does not dare to think of why. If he does not think, it does not exist. He is self aware enough only to feel how disheveled his robes feel on his body, how messy his hair is, how hot his skin feels all over. He is a mess. 

“Dear one?” he questions. He refuses to acknowledge how his own tone drops, refuses to admit he is rolling his vowels in a way he knows thickens his accent in the most attractive of ways. He doesn’t know why he is flirting with Anakin Skywalker when the boy is barely out of his knighthood and is Anakin. His Anakin, his Anakin on whom he just looked in a way he really should not be looking at, through his eyelashes, with a heavy, wanting gaze. 

The redness of Anakin’s cheeks is evidence enough that he hears and understands the situation well enough. That he is very much aware of what his Master is doing. That he is… perhaps affected. 

Obi-Wan swallows, trying to push himself up to his elbows. He needs to sober up, he must tell him that he is merely jesting, that it is all a little tease, a little laugh, nothing more, just….

Anakin cuts him to it. Before he can excuse, or joke, or explain.

“Not while you’re drunk.” Anakin bites, sounding frustrated, lips swollen red from biting. Obi-Wan startles, surprised. 

What did Anakin just say? Imply?

Blatantly threw straight into his face, more like. 

Yes, but not while he is drunk.

Absurdly, a swell of pride fills his chest to the brim. Anakin’s manners and chivalry surprises him, pleases him. He had raised him well after all, he did not fail him, at least not in this.

His pleasure must bleed into the Force as Anakin regards him with a dark, baffled look. It’s so dark, most would find it intimidating, but for Obi-Wan it’s… dear. He can see the gentleness in that look, the care. There’s warmth in the force when Anakin insist on tucking him in, fingers methodical in the short, careful gestures. Tucking him in as if he was a child. Him, his Master. Former. 

Obi-Wan was tucked in only once in his lifetime, at least as far as he can remember. His first night in the Jedi Temple. So tense he was, so out of his depth, that the he was taken pity of, tucked in with a quiet promise of everything making sense soon. It helped.

It had never happen again. 

“Ahnakin.” he tries to protest, tries to pull a face of offended indigence. It’s hard to do when he is practically shining within the force. A single look from his apprentice is enough to quiet him down. 

“Master.” Anakin replies, and there’s a little eyeroll there. His cheeks are still flushed but he seems as determined as Obi-Wan to not address the Bantha in the room. “You really should be more careful” he lectures him in a way Obi-Wan can distinctly remember doing a few years back, when Anakin had gotten drunk for the first time. 

He leaves then, without a word. Obi-Wan’s throat closes and there’s a pang of pain in his heart. No this. He remembers now. Him. Leaving. That was the whole reason, that was why—

“Master?” Anakin sounds concerned, a glass of water and a container of what looks to be painkillers in his hands. “Are you sick?” a few strides and he is by Obi-Wan’s bed again, placing he glass and container at the bedside table. He looks well and truly worried. 

Unthinking, Obi-Wan sits up. So sudden that he does feel sick from the motion. He ignores it. He reaches for Anakin’s face with both hands, cupping his cheeks with a grip that is too strong, too desperate. A Jedi should not hold onto things with such fervor. 

All it takes for him to lean is to Anakin, is to stop resisting if only for a moment. Anakin’s pull was always there, stronger and stronger until it had become a daily challenge to ignore it, to pretend he does not feel it. All it takes is to stop resisting and his lips find Anakin’s, pressing against that plush softness, inhaling his exhale and finally, finally feeling anchored, inside the orbit he was always meant to circle.

He tilts his chin, leans in, knowing his beard will scratch pleasantly against the smooth jaw, kisses in deeper—

“Mahster—!” Anakin gasps into the kiss, a pang of shock and uncertainty clouding the force around them, sipping through the open nerves of their broken bond.  He does not want to take advantage of his Master, does not want him to end up hating him, does not want him to wake up and be disgusted, appalled— but he wants, he wants so badly. 

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan breathes out, unsure if it’s endearment of relief that fills him up with warmth, with lightness. One thing he is certain of, no one had ever been, or will be, as sweet, as kind, as dear as Anakin is to him. “I could never hate him.” There’s a drunken lisp to his voice, he needs a moment to correct himself. “You.” He manages, meeting Anakin’s eyes and not blinking, not wanting to miss a single moment. Wanting to see the exact moment in which Anakin realizes he is serious, that he is the most honest he’s been in years. 

Anakin seems to be realizing it too, his eyes widening and cheeks coloring a deeper red than before, he bites his lip.

“I might be…” Obi-Wan’s gaze drops to Anakin’s lips and he thinks about… “intoxicated…” he forces himself to look up, away from temptation, away from sin. “Drugged, possibly.” He is still not fully certain if he is, or it truly is just Anakin with a touch of alcohol. “But I am very much aware that…” he smiles before completing the sentence, it widens so much further with the words to come “…my Padawan simply cannot take advantage of his Master…” there’s really no need to be using this many terms of belonging, especially when they are outdated and irrelevant, but he just cannot… “On the contrary, I am the one who should be deeply ashamed for…mnnn-” 

Anakin’s lips quiet him up, he was never a patient listener, never could hear his Master finish a thought. This is the most effective he had ever been at cutting Obi-Wan’s line of thought, by far. He kisses him in a way Obi-Wan would have never guessed him capable of— it’s soft, sweet, patient. A tender thing, careful, loving. Obi-Wan gasps. Thinking, dazedly of how Anakin will grow to be an amazing lover, so attentive, a beast holding back his fangs in favor of gentle lips… 

The thought sets a burning coil of arousal deep in Obi-Wan’s gut.

Not good. Beyond not good. He should…. 

The thought is present and yet he licks at Anakin’s lips, asking for permission. He is granted one without resistance, without hesitance. Anakin’s lips part and he can taste him and oh, oh. Obi-Wan groans, muscles tensing as he shifts to sit straighter, moving a hand to Anakin’s nape and pulling him closer.

He nearly chokes when the boy sucks on his tongue, arousal shocking him into near soberness. 

“Anakin…” he knows, there’s not enough alcohol in the universe to convince him that this is not going too far, he knows and yet… 

He kisses Anakin again, a little hungrier, a little more wanting.

He must stop this madness. To think that he had started it, to think that he had taken advantage of his trusting, sweet—

“No, Master.” Anakin answers, and Obi-Wan wonders just how much of his shields is truly left if his thoughts can be read so easily, so plainly. “You’ve asked me to stay, and I will stay.” That assuredness is back, firm and leaving no space for argument. This is the same man who leads men on a battlefield, who commands, who leads. Obi-Wan finds it impossibly, undeniably, devastatingly attractive.

“You will sleep.” Anakin decides then, tearing his eyes away from Obi-Wan long enough to gesture at the lights, turning them off with the force. “And I will stay with you.” His eyes land back to Obi-Wan, dark mirth dancing in what Obi-Wan can still see of him. “To keep you safe, Master.” He is teasing him, the little devil.

“How will it even…” Obi-Wan doesn’t want to mention how narrow the bed really is, Anakin would know, with his constant complaints about how leg room and… 

“Don’t worry about that.” Anakin answers, confidence so cocky, so boyish that Obi-Wan huffs a surprised laughter, breaking into giggling when Anakin practically falls on top of him. They struggle like that, laughter mixing, limbs tangling, hair in a mouth and fingers against sides— Anakin captures him then, they’re on their sides, Anakin’s back is firm as he pulls Obi-Wan all the way to himself, forming….

“Absolutely not!” Obi-Wan’s voice raises and breaks a little, attempting to wriggle out of the trap he inadvertently fell into. There’s still some pride life in him. He will not permit this Jedi Knight, his former Padawan no less, big spoon him, 16 years his senior and former Master. Force be his witness, he will not allow it.

Anakin makes a suffering, exasperated exhale when Obi-Wan manages to slip out of his grip— only to be yanked back by the force. All he manages is a choked gasp of protest before the air is knocked out of him, his back hitting a firm chest a little too hard. There’s a vindictive sort of satisfaction in hearing Anakin chokes out a surprised exhale too, clearly, he did not account for the impact being this strong.

“Karkin’ hell…” he hears the boy muttering and snorts out, laughing even while Anakin wraps his mechno-arm around him, pulling him back into the not-as-offensive as before little spoon position. Fine, he thinks. He’ll allow it, just for this one night…. 

His eyes close and he shudders when Anakin’s nose press against his nape, he can feel the slow, deep inhale— can feel the content exhale that follows. 

“Finally.” Anakin breathes out, as if he was waiting for this moment longer than the few minutes  just now. Like he needed it, himself. Like it was not Obi-Wan, pathetic and alone, messaging his former Padawan while drunk beyond reason that led him here, but his own needs, own wants. Like he needed this too, him. Like he needs him. Obi-Wan. 

“Oh Force…” Obi-Wan calls upon it without realizing, without meaning it. Only the force can stand witness to this moment, judge it, measure it. Guide him, tell him right from wrong. “Force.” His voice trembles with it, realizing for the first time that Anakin does see him, in truth, does and still…

“It’s fine with it.” Anakin remarks, nonchalant, amusement coloring the timbre of his voice. “You don’t have to shout at her, I don’t think she like it very much” Anakin refers to the Force differently every time, Obi-Wan suspects he does it simply for the joy of throwing off the younglings.

It unsettles Obi-Wan as well, he will not admit that much, though. Anakin’s connection with the force was always stronger, always different than anyone else’s. If he’s saying that the Force is not finding this offensive…. Obi-Wan will trust him. Anakin enjoys messing around at times, stretching the truth about how the Force works, but he’d never lie about this, not to him. 

Obi-Wan’s body relaxes so completely that he practically sags into Anakin, relief, so much relief. It feels…. Good. There’s rightness to it that even without the Force humming pleasantly in his ears, he’d recognize. Like sharing a sleeping cot in the war zones, minus the blood and gore and pain… it feels secure, it feels…good…. 

He feels himself being lulled to what he suspects will be a long and restful sleep. Such a luxury as of late. “Mnh..” He jolts a little when a hand moves across his side, resting at his hip bone and then back up to his side. He should not permit Anakin this much leeway with him and yet…. He likes it… oh he likes it.

So he doesn’t comment it, allowing him to continue, to stroke him and care for him, and hold him. He is not leaving. 

Sleep comes ease, as easy as an inhale. One moment he is aware of all that surrounds him, the scent and warmth, the weight and touch. The next he is sinking into the open embrace of rest. Distantly, he feels the touch of a Force Signature he knows as well as his own. It is the only half of it, after all. Accepting it, is as easy as breathing too. 

There’s a distant shift, even in sleep he can feel the bond snapping back into place, like moons falling into a familiar route, circling a singular sun. Maybe it was not Anakin who was the sun around which Obi-wan was revolving all along, but their shared….

[blueper-saiyan]

I have a firm heartfelt belief that neither Goku nor Vegeta is at all normal for a Saiyan but some of the ways that they’re weird overlap perfectly, so they’re both convinced that they’re normal and that’s just what Saiyans are like