#went to the barn came home to this very sweet rose my brother picked up

[dinsdjrn]

okay there’s something about my tattoo peeking out in the sun that hits different

[mcwriting]

sweet home alabama (2)

Hi all! Between marriage project and some one shots, I decided to upload this chapter!

Reminder: Characters have strong southern accents (save for Tom in the present).

Masterlist

Word Count: 2618

Warnings: slight injury mention

∆ present ∆

The weekend came and went, allowing Tom some time to get a new wardrobe for farmwork and acquire a pair of boots, as his last pair had been passed down and worn out by Sam years ago.

Tom had been enjoying a peaceful rest when he was jolted awake by two hands forcefully shaking him.

“What the- Sam! What are you doing?” Tom exclaimed, sitting up.

“You gotta go to Mel’s today, right? Sun rises in an hour. Better get up and eat ‘fore you head over there,” the younger brother explained. Tom tossed back his head and groaned.

“Fine. I’ll get up,” he replied, tossing off his quilt and sheet.

With the money Tom had made in recent years, he had been able to send some home every so often, which helped fund a much needed expansion of the family home. Unfortunately, they hadn’t added enough bathrooms for each brother to get their own.

“Tom! What in God’s name is taking you so long! You’re gonna be working cotton not modeling it!” Harry yelled, pounding on the door.

“Alright alright! It’s all yours!” Tom exclaimed as he opened up the door. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at his brother.

Though Tom had dressed in a button up, jeans, and boots, he had also made sure to style his hair until every wisp sat straight.

“You know you’re gonna sweat that gel off in ten minutes, right? Especially if you wear a hat.”

Tom rolled his eyes.

“Harry, you know me. There’s always a camera somewhere. Gotta be ready for anything. And it’s pomade, not gel.”

The other young twin just rolled his eyes back and slammed the door shut.

∆

A few minutes down the road, y/n was getting ready to start her own day. She rose at dawn like always, stretching a bit and hopping out of bed.

Though she was living a country life, she still took the time to do a full skincare routine, being especially attentive to the products she used and how much sunscreen she applied.

Since she wouldn’t be at any farms in the morning, y/n put on leggings and tshirt and headed out the door, a granola bar in hand. She only had to drive a mile away to get to the “s.h.e.d.”

As usual, she was the first one there, so she keyed in and turned on all the lights. She took in a deep breath of the smells of the soil and chemicals around her as she tossed on her lab coat.

You didn’t think she was any ordinary farm girl, did you?

In reality, she had actually gone to UCLA, getting degrees in both chemistry and environmental engineering. Now she had spent the last year doing research thanks to a grant to improve the agricultural health of her hometown so she could eventually receive a master’s degree.

But we’ll talk more on that later.

Now that the sun was finally peeking above the horizon, her two lab assistants finally showed up.

Her assistants, Ciara and Jacob, were students at a community college in the town 45 minutes away. They were bright and the three always enjoyed working together, as they played fun music and conversed while recording research.

“Hey! Glad y’all could finally make it! Y’all know that last week I collected more samples from Mel’s, so today I want to prepare a gram from each jar in solution so we can run samples and start looking at what nutrients need supplementing and where so I can put a fertilizer together for tomorrow.”

The two were happy to follow their boss’s instruction, and y/n couldn’t help but smile as she scanned over her lab, remembering where she started.

∆ 16 years old ∆

Y/n had always been good at school.

A straight A student, never one to act out or deliberately miss work. Everyone knew she was bright, and she continued to prove that as she aged.

By sophomore year of high school, she was already an above-average scorer on the ACT and was taking courses above her grade level to keep from boring herself.

But in a town as small as hers, one could only get so advanced in high school alone.

Thankfully once she was a junior, the community college Ciara and Jacob were now attending allowed students to enroll in some basic online classes and receive credit, so long as they had good enough internet connection.

Because she was ahead, y/n had a free period where she could mooch off of the school’s wifi in an empty classroom. However, she didn’t have the same luxury at home, and had to go to Tom’s to complete any assignments after school.

By this point, Tom had been going to small auditions for a couple years, picking up the occasional commercial role and making a few bucks here and there, enough to get his family better TV and internet, anyways.

“Hey, y/n?” Tom asked one day, late in the fall. He laid back on the bed, tossing a foam basketball above his head while y/n worked on her college math class from the floor. She hummed in response, holding a pencil between her teeth.

“What are you plannin’ to do with all this college stuff anyways?” he asked. His accent was still as strong as ever. He hadn’t taught himself to let it go yet.

“I’on know. Maybe git a degree and move out of this town for a while. Find a real job that ain’t baling hay or planting stuff. You know I really love science,” she replied. She knew she had a lot of options, she was only a couple points away from that perfect ACT score by now.

There was a pause as she continued to tap numbers into a calculator and record them.

“I got another audition ‘fore thanksgiving,'' Tom announced after a while. Y/n didn’t look up.

“Oh yeah? What for, toothpaste ad or somethin’?”

“Uh, no actually. This one’s for a movie. A real movie.”

Y/n dropped the pencil and looked up at Tom, pushing up from the ground to sit on her knees as he sat up straight.

“Really? You’re serious? You ain’t pulling my leg or something?”

Tom smiled big and nodded.

“I mean it. I really got this audition coming up.”

“Oh my gosh, TOM!”

Y/n quickly stood up, tackling her best friend in a hug, practically ending up on his lap. They stayed that way for a while.

“Tom, this is seriously incredible. You’re gonna be in a movie!”

He pulled back quickly.

“Don’t be too quick, now. This is only an audition, there’s no way to say I’ll actually get the part-” he started, but y/n got off him and kneeled on the floor, so that her eyes were level with his and she could grab his upper arms to look at him directly.

“You’re gonna get that part,” she smiled, unable to contain her excitement. “You’re gonna nail that audition, and you’re getting that part. This is gonna be your big break, I just know it.”

“Thanks for believin’ in me. Hopefully I won’t prove you a liar this time,” he replied, pulling her up into another hug.

She ended up being right, too, because after his first audition, he got a callback during Christmas break and secured the role which he’d film the summer between junior and senior year.

The pair knew they were really starting to grow up, but didn’t let their different pursuits come between them just yet.

Tom was the one who drove her to her final ACT where she got her perfect score (since she didn’t have a car yet), and the movie filmed a few hours away in the Birmingham area (where y/n drove Tom’s truck in his absence since he was still too young to live there alone).

It worked, for the most part.

∆ present ∆

Tom drew in a sharp breath and winced, limping through the barn and plopping onto a hay bale as he gulped down some water. He had been walking up and down the rows watering the plants, as the four-wheeler Melanie’s dad typically used to water was broken.

“How’s it looking, Mr. Carmichael?” he asked, dabbing away the sweat on his forehead with a towel as he rehydrated.

The older gentleman stood up and looked at Tom.

“Well, son. I’ve almost got this thing here fixed, but you ain’t looking too good,” he pointed out.

“What do you mean, sir?” Tom asked. He may have lost his accent, but didn’t forget his manners.

“Looks like you’ve been ridin’ horses the way you’re walkin’. New boots? Not to mention that sunburn you’re startin’ to nurse. Why don’t you run up to the house and have Mel fix those up. I’m sure her momma fixed some lunch for ya, too.”

“A- are you sure, sir? I’ve only got about 10 more rows before I’m done.”

“No, no. It’s alright, boy. Run along and fix yourself up. I’ll handle the rest.”

Tom thanked the man and slowly got up, immediately remembering the pain in his feet and now aware of the stinging on his cheeks.

He’d forgotten that boots don’t really break themselves in and he hadn’t worn very thick socks. He also had somehow neglected that the sun beats just as hard in the farmlands as it does in Malibu.

He waddled up to the house, where Melanie was on the porch reading a book.

“Well by God, Tom. You’re walkin’ like you just got your back blown out for the first time,” she laughed, causing his cheeks to redden more.

“They’re new boots, alright? Now could you help me out? Your dad said you might know of something?”

She looked past him towards the barn, then closed her book and nodded her head towards the door, standing.

“Come on. Momma made you a sandwich if you want it. You can leave your boots by the door.”

They headed inside, a large living room on the right and the kitchen to the left. Tom wiggled his shoes and socks off in the entryway as Melanie ducked into a hallway to grab a few things.

“Oh Tom! I’m glad you came in! Are you hungry? I’ve got lunch for ya,” Mrs. Carmichael said as she appeared from the kitchen.

“That would be really nice, Mrs. Carmichael. Thank you,” he replied as she sat him down at the kitchen table, placing a plate with a turkey sandwich and some chips in front of him along with a glass of sweet tea.

He dug into the meal, immediately realizing just how hungry he really was. By the time he’d finished the sandwich (which really didn’t take that long), Melanie appeared with a laundry basket full of stuff. Tom washed down his meal with some tea before speaking.

“Jesus, Mel, how much does it take to patch up some blisters?” he asked.

“First off, don’t be takin’ the Lord’s name in vain in this house,” she commanded, pointing her head towards her mother in the living room, to which Tom covered his mouth and shot a thumbs up. “And second, I figured it best just to grab all my stuff than dig through it.”

She plopped the basket on the table and herself into the seat next to Tom, stealing a chip from his plate. It crunched in her mouth as she began pulling out random things like a stethoscope, a blood pressure cuff, and meds.

“What’s that all for?” Tom asked, brows furrowed. Melanie gave back an equally confused look and went back to digging.

“What do you mean? They’re just medical supplies.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean why do you have a stethoscope and stuff?”

She paused what she was doing and looked back up at Tom.

“You do know I’m a nurse, right?” she asked. She immediately knew he didn’t by the way his eyes popped open.

After high school, Melanie had been able to go off and get her nursing degree, now working in the closest hospital which was, you guessed it, 45 minutes away.

She usually worked 12 hour shifts at the hospital Tuesday through Thursday, spending her other days at home so she could respond to small needs around town, especially on weekends when people liked to get drunk and be reckless.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize that. Good for you,” Tom replied, unsure of what else to say.

“It’s alright. You’ve been gone quite a while and we all know you ain’t checking in on what happens ‘round these parts no more. Now take this and let me grab the aloe from the fridge,” she said, dropping two advil on his plate and getting up.

Tom did as told, feeling the weight of what she had dismissively said. He really hadn’t checked in since leaving. Sure, his brothers and Harrison sometimes kept him in the loop. At least, he thought so.

He was trying to remember what the last big piece of news he had heard about home was, but came up short. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen anything on social media about home, since he’d unfollowed most of the people back home after his career took off.

They all reminded him of y/n anyways.

“You mind if I put some of this on your face?” Melanie asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He obliged and she spread some of the cool aloe gel over his sunburn.

“Feel better?” she asked, to which he nodded. “Good, now let’s take a look at those blisters.”

She cringed when she saw how beat up his feet were. She pulled out a bit of numbing gel, hydrocolloid bandages, and fabric tape. Soon enough, she had his blisters all covered up and was handing him some more bandages and tape.

“Now I want you to leave these on as long as possible, alright? When they fall off or the spot in the middle gets too big, you’ll switch ‘em out for new. You should be in ship shape here in a few days. And you best not forget sunscreen from now on.”

“Will do. Thanks again, Mel. Hard to believe I’ve been gone long enough for you to become a nurse and all, huh?” Tom asked, half joking. Melanie nodded.

“Yeah, well. ‘Lot’s changed around here, even if it don’t look like it. You’d be surprised… Now before I forget...” Melanie quickly got up and left the room, returning with two wood and metal contraptions. “Here’s some boot stretchers to put in your shoes when you get home. Should help stretch ‘em out and I’m sure the boys would lend you some leather conditioner.”

With that, Tom put his boots back on and thanked Mrs. Carmichael for the meal, heading back outside. He found Mr. Carmichael sitting on the now-functioning four wheeler.

“Well, boy, you all good?” the older man asked.

“Yes sir. Melanie got me all taped up and your wife made a great lunch. So what else do you need me to do?”

Mr. Carmichael looked around for a moment, staring at a few things, then back at Tom.

“Well I got the rest all watered and y/n won’t be around with fertilizer till tomorrow so why don’t you go home and rest up those feet, eh?”

Tom tried to object, as it was still quite early in the day, but the old man wouldn’t have it. He eventually conceded and gave one last thank you, hopping into his old truck and heading home, pondering why y/n would be bringing fertilizer in the coming day.

∆

A/N: hope you guys are liking this story so far! I really love the time jumping, and the progression of it in future chapters is really cool!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

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[absandersons]

A Life Worth Living

Pairing: Dean/Cas Dean/pretty much anyone he’s had a relationship with in the show and original characters bc I have a problem

AN: Looks like I’m down the rabbit hole with Dean coming out lol.  This is angsty......very angsty.

Warnings: Abuse, Alcoholism, John Winchester being a horrible parent, Violence

Words: A very gratuitous 3643

As always, up on my AO3 here.

Dean’s first crush was Eleanor Andrews when he was four years old.  She was blond and had pink ribbons at the end of her pigtails.  She and Dean pretended to get married in the playground in Lawrence, Kansas and promised to be together forever.  The last time he saw her was the day that Mary died, and he had given her a worm he found in the grass.  She said she’d keep it forever.

When Mary died, John made Dean become a man overnight.  He was four years old and told how to hold a shotgun that was taller than him.  They spent the next few years on the road, or at Bobby’s, or at Pastor Jim’s.  Dean saw less of his father than he’d like to admit, but took care of Sam, because that’s what John told him to do.  “Watch out for Sammy” was the constant mantra he was never, not for one second, allowed to forget.

When Dean was eight and Sam was four, John started taking him on the road with him.  Different hotels, cities, towns, highways every week.  At first it was cool, Dean liked watching the winding asphalt roads, twisting up towards mountains or around lakes, sometimes windy, sometimes still, sometimes hot, and sometimes snowy.  Hotels always had TV and a bed all to himself.  He would take Sam to preschool and walk over to school himself, where everyone always thought he was cool because he was always the new kid.  He would leave school, pick up Sam, walk back to whatever hotel they were staying in that week, make Sam dinner, tuck him in, and then keep watch for anything that might come in.  It was kinda lonely sometimes, especially since they moved around so much, but that was okay, as long as he could take care of Sam.

When Dean was ten, he met Sarah Deleon when John had them stay in Lafayette, Indiana for two months while he hunted some ghouls.  She had brown hair and bright green eyes and wasn’t interested in talking to him, which made Dean want to talk to her even more.  He met her when he was trying to drag Sam out of the library after school.  He recognized her from his class and had swaggered over to her the way he had seen the cowboys do in his favorite Western movies.  She had barely looked up from her book until Sam asked what she was reading.  Turns out it was a book about a cowdog named Hank, and Dean ended up stealing it from the library and reading it every night.  He really wanted to live on a ranch sometimes.

She, Dean, and Sam were pretty much inseparable for the next few weeks, staying at the library right up until closing, until Mrs. May told them all to go home before it got too dark.  Dean liked the way Sarah laughed at him and told him to read more, and he really liked the way she listened to Sam.  When John came back and told them to get in the car one early morning, Dean felt an ache in his chest that he didn’t get to say goodbye.

As the years wore on, the novelty of travel wore off.  Hotels weren’t interesting anymore, just more of the same.  The food was almost always bad, and the cool factor of being the new kid transformed into being the weird kid by the time Dean hit middle school.  Dean was Sam’s constant protector, and even though he would do anything for his brother, even give him the last of the Lucky Charms, sometimes he just wanted to be able to get a soda without worrying about what John would say if he did.  But, of course, the one time he did that, a shtriga almost killed Sam, and John, bursting in at the exact right moment, did what Dean couldn’t do, and never looked at Dean the same way again.

Dean’s first kiss was a girl named Bria Zuniga, and she kissed Dean behind the school in Pinedale, Wyoming when he was thirteen.  She had black hair and bright blue eyes, and Dean remembered how nervous he had been when she had leaned in, he thought he was gonna be bad at it.  John had dragged them out of there two days later, and Dean had given Bria another kiss before they left.  John had clapped him on the shoulder.

Things got complicated when he turned fourteen.  Dean and Sam, who was growing like a total weed and was going to be taller than Dean, damn him, were left in Riverside, Iowa, James T. Kirk’s future birthplace, which was totally awesome, while John hunted a demon in the area.  That was where Dean met Jim Barnes, and it was like he could see through Dean’s cool guy loner persona.  He had light brown hair and dark brown eyes and they bonded over Star Trek and Batman, and Jim even showed Dean his comic collection, which was pretty cool.  He introduced Dean to Kurt Vonnegut and gave him the copy of Cat’s Cradle Dean still has to this day.  Dean introduced him to Led Zeppelin, and when Sam was studying at the hotel and insisted that he could take care of himself for a couple of hours, they went out to the movies and saw Jurassic Park.  That night, they walked back towards Jim’s house, talking about which dinosaur they would keep as a pet, when Dean kissed him.  It was simple and short and kinda sweet, and afterward Jim put his hand in Dean’s and Dean walked him to the door.  Four days later, right after school, John was waiting for them, the Impala running and the kind of look on his face that told Dean not to push any buttons if he didn’t want a black eye, but he was always a risk-taker, so he ran back inside and gave Jim one last kiss in the dirty school bathroom before watching Jim Kirk’s future birthplace fade away like fogged breath on the window of the Impala.

Dean was sixteen when John had told the cops that he could rot in prison.  He had given the cop a black eye and they had shipped him off to Sonny’s and even though it hurt to be away from Sam, for the first time in his life, Dean had friends, he did well in school, he made the wrestling team, and he met Robin.  She had dark hair and dark eyes with a kind smile. Sonny never made him feel like he was less than, and for the first time, he didn’t have to think about what was out there in the dark.  He still missed Sam, but not having John around was like being able to see blue sky after years and years of overcast. He told Robin his dreams, talked about his love of cars, how much he liked to sing.  She listened, and he listened to her dreams, let her take all the photos of him she wanted, and sort of, kind of, fell in love with her.  She kissed him on Sonny’s couch with a guitar between them, and he made promises to her that he really wished he could keep.  And when John came back on the night of his first school dance, his dance with Robin, he really wished he could be someone other than Dean Winchester.  Sonny gave him a choice, gave him a chance at normal, at Robin, at a family that didn’t drink too much and bruise your wrists when you didn’t do the dishes.  But when he looked out the window and saw Sam with his stupid toy plane, he knew.  Dean couldn’t, wouldn’t leave Sam.

After Robin, Dean didn’t really pay attention to anyone but Sam.  He met girls, flirted with girls, kissed girls, hooked up with girls, and then left girls as easy as drawing breath.  And hell, when you move around every other week it was easy.  Arrogance and disdain for school bought him cool guy cred, and cool guy cred usually meant that people left him alone.  When he was seventeen, he met Amanda Heckerling at Truman High.  She was blonde with blue eyes and was whip smart.  She kissed him and it tasted like candy.  He liked her a lot, but he didn’t want to feel that vulnerability he felt with Robin, and when she called him out for being afraid, he did what he did best. He ran away.

Dean got his GED at nineteen and watched Sam go from little brother to actual man.  He studied hard and Dean was fiercely proud of him for it.  And then, one night, when Dean was twenty, he came back from a bar in Flagstaff, Arizona where they were staying, and Sam was gone. Panic settled in his throat like someone was choking him.  He spent a week without sleeping, looking everywhere for Sam.  He checked every hotel, snuck his way to every security room with cameras he could, asking anyone who would pay him the time of day if they had seen him, but no one had.  And then, nine days after Sam had disappeared, John came back, and if Dean had wished he was dead before, it was nothing to what John made him feel.  He was pretty sure his jaw was fractured and he knew he had some cracked ribs, but that was nothing to him, all that mattered was finding Sam, getting Sam home.  John found him in some shitty little apartment on the outskirts of town with pizza boxes and a dog and a stolen car outside.  Dean had gripped him tightly and ignored Sam’s questions about the state of his face.  He tripped, he said, coming out of a bar.  Sam told him he drank too much.  Dean looked at John’s bruised knuckles and quietly thought he didn’t drink enough.

Dean met Andrew Hawkins on his twenty-first birthday in Roundup, Montana.  Sam was studying for the ACT, whatever that is, and John was out on an extended rugaru hunt or drinking binge.  Andrew had hazel eyes and dark brown hair and they made conversation over a friendly game of pool.  A friendly conversation turned into too many shots, and then they stumbled into the alley behind the bar, away from the prying pink neon lights, and Dean let himself touch and be touched, knowing that it meant nothing, but meaning everything in the moment.  Andrew took control in a way that Dean had never known, and when he came back to the hotel with too many hickies on his neck, Sam laughed and said he hoped she didn’t look half as bad as Dean did.  Dean laughed to hide the shame that rose like vomit in his throat.

Sam left for Stanford when Dean was twenty-two.  When he told John, during the middle of an argument, because Sam always had impeccable timing, Dean felt like the world was falling out from under him.  Who the hell was he if he didn’t have Sam?  He couldn’t even remember being his own person anymore. John had tried everything, screaming, slamming things into walls, breaking glass, getting in Sam’s space, but Sam wasn’t afraid of him anymore, and John had never hit Sam, not that Dean would ever have let him.  Sam left that night, taking only what he could carry in a bag and looking back at Dean with what Dean thought might be an apology in his face.  John had yelled after him that if he was going to go he should stay gone, and that was that.  The frail wooden door slammed behind him, and Dean’s little brother was out on his own.  Even years later, Dean didn’t tell Sam about the rest of that night, but he was lucky to survive it.  He kept John at arm’s length after that, after his right arm had healed, anyway.

Dean tried to be a nomad, not get attached to anyone for anything except for the Impala.  He and John made tracks across the country, so many miles on the odometer he almost expected it to break.  John routinely dragged them to the west coast just to see what Sam was up to, and that was when he started to let Dean off on his own.  The grooves in the highway were his best friends, and he went places John would never go.  The deep South, the Canadian border, bigger cities, all the places he had wanted to be when he was younger.  He fought ghouls and ghosts and demons and vamps.  He repaired junker cars when he stopped by Bobby’s every so often.  He checked in with John every other day and they sometimes met up for a hunt.  He met people, fucked them, and then left.  Had the bendiest weekend of his life with Lisa Braeden.  It wasn’t really freedom, but it was about as close as he could hope for.

Dean met Cassie in Mississippi when he was twenty-four.  She had dark hair and dark eyes. She was smarter than him, prettier than him, and even though he had a pact with himself to never get attached, she made herself comfortable in his heart.  He felt himself falling, like he had taken a running leap off a cliff and there was nothing below him but endless air and sharp rocks at the bottom.  So, in the middle of the night, he did what John would have done, and he left, trying to ignore the tears that spilled from his eyes as he crossed the Alabama border.

John gave him the Impala on his twenty-fifth birthday.  She was everything he had ever wanted in a car.  His first home, with his and Sam’s initials carved in the back.  John had bruised the back of his neck with his hand and told him to take care of the car.  Dean swore he wouldn’t let him down.

It all went to hell when Dean met Connor Stevens two months later.  He was on a routine hunt with John.  Vengeful spirit, whatever.  He was doing research in the library when this dorky guy with glasses, a bow tie, red hair, and blue eyes sat down at his table.  The got to talking about what they were reading and ended up having dinner at a way too nice restaurant that Connor suggested.  It was a break from burgers and beer and the ever-looming presence of John.  Connor asked him halfway through if this was a date, and Dean blushingly said he hoped so. They ended up back at Dean’s room since John would be out most of the night.  Until, of course, he wasn’t.  Dean was used to being afraid of John, but never before had he felt terror like that. John didn’t speak to him for nearly two months, and Dean was left floundering in a lake of guilt and shame, mixed with a healthy dose of defiance, but he always came back to John, because that’s what a good son does.

When John disappeared when Dean was twenty-six, he didn’t have anyone to turn to, so he went back to Sam.  He hated that he had to take Sam away from his life, where he was clearly thriving with his very pretty girlfriend Jess and his good grades, but Dean was no soldier with no one to follow, and he swore to himself that once they found John that he would let Sam go.  But the universe never seemed to give him what he wanted, and Dean had to drag Sam away from Jess burning on the ceiling, just like their mother had.

He and Sam become hunters together, and even though he knew he could never heal the pain of losing Jess, he could at least make it so that the Impala became Sam’s home again.  Her tires sped along the winding roads all across the country, and even though it was selfish, having Sam back made Dean feel as calm as he had in years.

John died when Dean was twenty-seven.  Dean felt his heart break, but also felt like someone had taken handcuffs off him that he had been wearing for so long he didn’t even realize he was wearing them.

Dean went to hell when he was twenty-nine. The sound of the hellhounds tearing through the house towards him were terrifying, but the knowledge that he had done this for Sam made him feel a little better about getting ripped to shreds by dogs from hell.

Hell was worse than he could have ever imagined.  Torture was about the best thing that could happen to you down there.  Allistair had convinced him to pick up a knife, and even though he knew it was wrong, he knew that John would hate him for what he was doing, he took the knife from Allistair and thought, what the hell, John hated him anyway.

Dean met Castiel when he was thirty.  He had black hair and blue eyes and giant black wings.  He left a mark on Dean even before they met.  He stood too close to Dean and made him feel like he was being x-rayed every time they made eye contact, but Dean could never make himself look away.

Dean settled down with Lisa Braeden when he was thirty-one.  She had black hair and brown eyes and the kindest and most beautiful heart he had ever known.  He was very lucky to have her and Ben.  Probably a little too lucky.  He slept with a gun under his pillow every night.  You never knew what was waiting in the dark.  He had nightmares about Sam throwing himself in the pit and she would comfort him, and when Sam showed back up when he was thirty-two, she let him go hunt with him.  He made her forget him when he was thirty, and that was a wound that he knew would never really heal.

Dean went to Purgatory when he was thirty-four.  He spent a year there with Benny, vamp turned new best friend in tow, and every night, when he was trying to sleep, he would think of one thing, where, how, when to find Cas.  It was stupid, he was probably dead, Benny said pretty much every day, but until they found a pile of bones with a trenchcoat, Dean wouldn’t believe that.  They ended up finding him, and losing Cas to Purgatory just as he and Benny escaped made Dean want to jump right back into it, and he wasn’t really sure why.

He met Amara when he was thirty-seven. She was all powerful and deeply frightening, but Dean felt a pull towards her that he had never felt towards anyone or anything.  She knew this, she tried to use it against him, but something broke when she started torturing Cas, probably because they were best friends.  Because Dean needed Cas.  He needed Cas.  He needed Cas.

Dean lost Cas to an angel blade held by Lucifer when he was thirty-nine.  He begged God, Chuck, whatever to bring him back.  It was like someone punched a hole in his chest, and when they burned his body, it sort of felt like Dean was burning too.

Jack brought Cas back when Dean was thirty-nine.  It felt like he had aged forty years since he last saw him.  He didn’t tell Cas that he didn’t cope well with him being gone, but he thought Cas knew, because Cas knew everything about him.  They went back to the way things should be.  They hunted, watched movies, sang terribly in the Impala, and Dean felt like he really, truly, had a family again.  He would look at Cas when he didn’t think Cas could see, and even though he knew they were best friends and nothing more, sometimes Dean would think about just how beautiful Cas was.

Dean kissed Cas when he was forty-one. He was older, that there was less time, that Chuck was going to kill him one way or another, and Dean didn’t want Cas to be another what if, especially if he was about to spend eternity in Hell, which is probably where he would end up anyway.  He kissed him in the Impala, when he and Cas tried to escape Belphegor’s incessant talking and Sam had disappeared to read in his room in the bunker. Zeppelin played softly from the Impala’s speakers, and Dean instinctually leaned forward, like he had meant to do it all his life.  Cas’ lips were chapped and soft and Dean didn’t ever want to pull back from him.  But when he did, Cas gave him the kind of smile that made it all worth it.  The pain, the self-hatred, the hunting, the angels, devils, destiny, and God himself are all worth dealing with if it meant that this moment could exist with Cas in the Impala.

Dean told Sam the truth when he was forty-one.  He told him about John, about Flagstaff, about Stanford, and about Jim, Andrew, Robin, Cas, and all the rest.  Dean laid his heart out on the line, because if anyone deserved to know who he really was, it was Sam.  And Sam, because he was the best brother in the world, didn’t say anything, just leaned forward and hugged Dean as tightly as he had when Dean left Sonny’s.  It was one of those hugs that sort of made the world turn a little easier, and Dean knew that he was still the luckiest guy on earth to have Sam Winchester as his brother.  His family, Sam and Cas, they’re what make life worth living, and even if they had ten years of ten minutes left together, Dean was finally going to make the most of it.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 9

AO3 link here

I am the first person in my class to be in a wedding. Joanie Merrill went to her neighbor’s wedding last year, but that is not the same thing at all. Being in a wedding is very different and much better.

I have known about my special job for six months, which is almost a year, and I kept it a secret for one whole month before Patty Fucci said to me in a mean way in the play yard that I should stop talking about the wedding because it was not so special and I counted to ten like Daddy taught me and said in a very nice voice, “Well, I am going to be an important participant, so I need time to plan and practice so I can make it perfect, Patty, and maybe you don’t understand that but so there.”

Then I maybe stomped on her foot, but only a little.

(Daddy told me that maybe I need to go back to counting to twenty, but he just doesn’t understand how it is in the third grade. It is very hard, and you need to Stand Up For Yourself and have A Strategy, like Mumma tells me when we play chess.)

On the morning of the wedding, I wake up Mumma and Daddy early, which is another Important Job, so I gave it to myself. I tiptoe into their room when it is still dark-dark out and I am going to whisper good morning, but Daddy sits up very fast and yells out, “What’s wrong?” before I even say anything. (He always does this, and it always makes me jump but also I like it because it means that if something is wrong, like when I threw up in the night, Daddy is ready to help me right away.)

“Nothing is wrong,” I say, and because now he is awake I go and jump onto the bed and crawl over him to the warm place in the middle. Daddy makes a big groaning sound from my knees and elbows poking him but I know it is pretend because I am small and he is very strong and my elbows are only a little sharp. “But we should start getting ready if we don’t want to be late - Uncle Bucky’s wedding is going to start very soon.”

“Not for another nine hours, it isn’t,” says Mumma into her pillow.

Daddy is sitting up a little, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Rosie,” he says, “what time did we say was okay to get up today?”

“Six o’clock.” We talked about it for a long time when I was going to bed last night.

“And what time is it now?”

“Three o’clock.”

“So why are you here?”

“Because six o’clock was too late and it meant that we would be late to the wedding and I did not want you to be embarrassed.” I snuggle under their blanket. “I was helping you. You always say helping is important!”

“You have a different helping job,” Daddy reminds me. “Maybe think about that instead.”

So I do for a while and I guess I forget how very important the Getting Up Early job is because I seem to fall asleep for a little bit. When I wake up again, Daddy is not in the room and it is not dark-dark out anymore, it is very bright. So I do the fast sitting up now and say, “What’s happening?”

“It’s just after eight o’clock,” Mumma says. She is over at the closet, making sure all of our wedding clothes look nice. “We’ll leave at nine, so you have some time to eat breakfast before then.”

I almost don’t eat breakfast to show that I’m angry that they didn’t listen to me and that they let me sleep, but eating is important to stay healthy and strong and do a good job. And since it’s very important that I do a good job today (and I am also maybe a little hungry), I go downstairs. In the kitchen, Daddy says, “Good morning, Rosie,” is a happy voice, but I say it back in a grumpy way to show him my Real and Honest Mood.

“What was that?” he says in the way where he pretends not to hear when I am rude, even though Daddy has extremely very good hearing.

So I do a big sigh and say, “Good morning, Daddy” in a nicer voice, and he says, “Thank you,” and gives me a plate with toast cut in triangles and a boiled egg in my special egg cup, which is yellow with red shoes painted on the feet and it says “Eggs on Legs” on the middle. Just when I finish eating, Mumma comes in with Emma and says it is almost time to go, so I run to get dressed in my car clothes and then I run around making sure everything is ready, until Mumma says that she double checked and we have the car all packed and if we don’t go now we will Really Be Late, so all there is to do is get in the backseat and do signing with Emma about the wedding until she falls asleep because she is still little and driving in the car makes her take naps.

Everyone is getting ready in the same place, and when we get there, it is already busy busy busy. I go into the kitchen first, because I have manners, and also because Mumma makes me, following behind me holding Emma by the hand while Daddy takes his suit and goes to find Uncle Bucky.

“Hi Nana,” I say, hoping that if I talk fast, Nana Barnes will do it too and won’t keep me for too long.

“Hello, Rose,” she says, and her voice is extra slow, like she knows what I was trying to do, but she does not use my middle name so I know that I am not in Any Actual Trouble.

Nana Barnes is not 100% my grandma (she is Uncle Bucky’s mother, and because Uncle Bucky is like my daddy’s brother, she is sort of like Daddy’s mother too) but Mumma and Daddy once weren’t my parents either, so I am An Expert about how families can be all different.

I go over to the stove and stand on my tiptoes to see while I ask, “What are you making, Nana?” and she says, “Oh, lots of things, for the dinner today,” because everyone is going to come back here to have a party after the Real and Actual Wedding.

“The cake looks lovely,” says Mumma, and I see where she is pointing in the shadowy corner of the counter and say, “Ooooh.” The cake has lots of layers, and so much frosting I think I could lick some off and no one would notice (which I would not do because I am not an animal or a baby, even if the frosting looks very delicious and so pretty, made into flowers like my name).

“Thank you, dear.” Nana shuts off the stove and turns all the way around to give me a hug, but then she sees Emmy, who is looking around at the kitchen. Nana puts out her hands and says, “Let me see that sweet girl,” and she picks Emma up, even though she is three now and really too big for that.

She does the sign for “grandma” over and over, and Emma copies her and gives a big smile and does signing back, and while they are all busy, I go to start my Big Job.

I have never been in Uncle Bucky’s old bedroom before, only his by himself apartment, but I know where it is, so I go knock on the door.

I hoped that Daddy would answer, but instead one eye peeks out and a voice says, “What’s the password, kid?”

I know it is Mr. Howard Stark, who I am supposed to call Uncle Howard but I Do Not Do That because of the time when I first met him. I was much littler and he came to get Mumma to come help him with something for work, and while we were waiting for Daddy to get home to stay with me, I had An Incidence Of Temper, and instead of being polite about it, Mr. Howard Stark said, “Jeez, Peggy, can’t you get that kid to pipe down?” Which made Mumma say, “If you must be you, I’ll ask you to do it elsewhere,” and she told him to go sit in the kitchen.

“If you must be you, I’ll ask you to do it elsewhere,” I tell him now, trying to sound as much like Mumma as I can, and he laughs and says, “Well, she’s yours, alright,” and I hear Daddy laughing from inside too.

“Is that my helper out there?” Uncle Bucky asks. “Let her in, Howard.”

Inside, it is even more crowded than the rest of the house. Mr. Jim is there, all the way from California, and he winks at me to let me know that he has my movie magazines - everyone knows that it’s better to get them from close to where the movie stars live. Mr. James from England is there, and he tips his hat at me so I curtsy to him. Mr. Jacques has the window open and is holding his cigarette outside, which means that he doesn’t want to get in trouble, so I won’t tell. Mr. Gabe is there, trying to read a book in the corner because he wants to take the test to be a teacher, but Mr. Hat keeps interrupting him. (I made that name for him, because he wanted me to call him Mr. Dum Dum, which is mean and I did not want to do that.)

Daddy is standing against the wall looking at everybody and smiling. I know it’s because they’re his friends and he misses them sometimes. Daddy and Uncle Bucky and everyone were soldiers in the big war, and Mumma was their boss. Now they live far away from each other, which is sad, but they like it when they can see each other for special things like this. (The only one Daddy and Uncle Bucky usually get to see is Mr. Howard Stark, which is Too Bad For Them.)

Daddy is all dressed up already, but I know what he looks like in his suit, because he did a fashion show for me and Mumma after he got it fixed by the sewing man. (Emma was already asleep because she is still little.) I told him he looked handsome, but Mumma didn’t say anything, so I said, “Doesn’t Daddy look handsome?” and she said, “Yes, he certainly does,” in a strange kind of voice that I guess was okay because it made Daddy smile. Then Mumma said, “It’s been quite a long time since I saw you in a suit,” and Daddy said, “Well we’ve been a little busy. Don’t worry, I’m sure you won’t be seeing me in it for long,” and Mumma said, “You might be right about that,” and then they said the fashion show was over and it was my bedtime.

“Hi, Rosie Posie,” says Uncle Bucky from where he is sitting on the bed. He is wearing the pants and the shirt from his suit, but not his jacket.

I do not let just anybody call me Rosie Posie, but Uncle Bucky is one of my favorites so I go over to him and say, “Happy wedding!”

“Thanks, Rosie,” he says with one of those special smiles that looks teensy but actually means that he is very, very happy. “Are you ready to help with your big job?”

I stand up very straight and say, “Yes!” in a Very Loud Voice, which makes Mr. Howard Stark laugh while he is pretending to cough. I will kick him for that later and tell him that He Knows What He Did. (Mumma sometimes says that it’s her job to keep Mr. Howard Stark in line, but it’s nice to help people, even people who are very good at their jobs like Mumma.)

Uncle Bucky reaches over to the little table next to the bed and picks up the most fancy and beautiful box: it is shiny silver and just the right size for me to hold. I reach to grab it, but Uncle Bucky picks it up high and says, “Hold on, now.” He makes his face very serious and says, “Are you absolutely certain you’re ready for this?”

I put my hands on my hips and say, “It was my idea, Uncle Bucky!” which is true. First he asked me if I wanted to do the flowers, but I said I did not want to do that because then I would have to share that job and I wanted my own, and also doing the flowers is boring and all you have to do is walk. So instead I said that I would be the ring girl - the rings are very interesting, but also very important and they will be around for much longer than flowers, probably forever.

“Oh, is there an inventor in the room? Am I speaking to the world’s first ring girl?” Uncle Bucky says, pretending, still holding the box too high, which almost makes me stamp my foot and grab for it. But then instead I take a big breath and say very calmly, “Yes, you are, so please give me my special ring carrying box.” And he does.

It feels just perfect in my hands, but I don’t even have a chance to open it before Daddy says, “Rosie, why don’t you take your box over to the other bedroom? I think it’s time for you to get dressed.” And he is right, it is much too late for me to still be in my regular clothes, so I go over and find the right room and knock there.

“Come in, Rose!” Mumma calls, and I open the door just enough for me to come inside.

This room smells very pretty and perfumey, and I take a big breath that makes me sneeze and everyone laughs. They are all in matching dresses, silvery blue with pretty floaty skirts: Mumma and Aunt Becca and Aunt Josie and Miss Violet (that is Aunt Josie’s Best Friend In The World and they also live together; I would like to live with my best friend, who is Bella Solomon, because it would be like having a sleepover all the time, but when I told Daddy that, he just looked a little sad and said, “Someday, if you want, Rosie girl”) and two ladies I don’t know and also Miss Layla, who looks absolutely extremely beautiful in her wedding dress.

I have seen pictures of Mumma at her and Daddy’s wedding, but it is my first time seeing a bride in real life and I say, “Oooh,” out loud and everyone laughs again.

“You can touch it, if you’d like,” says Miss Layla, and I make sure to walk over instead of running because it is crowded and also I am very mature. Once I am in front of her, I very carefully feel her sleeve with my fingers: it is so smooth where there is silk and so fancy where there is lace and it is so white that her skin looks very dark and beautiful.

“Do you like it?” she asks.

“I want one just like it when I grow up,” I tell her. Then I whisper to her, “And I looked at the weather in the newspaper, and it is not supposed to be windy, so you will not have to worry about your big skirt flying up and showing everyone your underpants.” Miss Layla looks a little surprised that I am telling her this, but probably also thankful. Weather Checker is also a very important job, so I added it to my other very important jobs. But then thinking about Miss Layla’s underwear makes me forget about weather checking and also about being quiet, because I say, “Are you wearing fancy underpants too, like your dress?” out loud and Mumma covers her face.

I have probably embarrassed everyone. They are probably going to make me go live in the woods so they do not have to be embarrassed of me anymore - and we do not even have a lot of woods near here, so it will probably be far far from here. Maybe I should run away so they cannot send me away first!

But I do not do that. Instead, I take a big breath and make myself say, “Sorry, Miss Layla.”

“That’s alright, Rosie. It’s all family here.” She rubs her chin. “In fact, since I’ll be married to your Uncle Bucky in just a few hours, why don’t you start calling me Aunt Layla?”

“Really?”

She smiles. Her teeth look about as white as her dress! “Really.”

I never got to meet Mumma’s brother, or hers and Daddy’s parents, so I always like when I get more family. Now I have so many aunts and uncles, and it’s almost like I have cousins too because of Aunt Becca’s kids. There are the boys - Jimmy, who is ten and Too Old For Fun, and Billy, who is only four - and then there is Barbara, who everyone has called her Baby since she was born and who is almost just my age.

“Where is Baby—I mean Bebe?” Now that she is older, she wants to have a different nickname. She was going to try Bobbi, but I said that Bebe was like Baby in French, which is fancy.

“She’s getting ready at our apartment with her father and her brothers. They’ll meet us there when it’s time.” Aunt Becca checks her watch. “Speaking of which…”

“You’re absolutely right,” says Mumma, and then she helps me put on my special dress, which is silvery blue like everyone else’s but is shorter and more of a kid dress. I am about to mention that I would be able to wear A Grownup Dress when Mumma says, “Hush please, Rose,” and one of the grownup ladies I don’t know says, “That really suits you, Rosie,” and Nana Barnes pokes her head in and says, “It’s time, girls!”

Daddy and Uncle Bucky and their friends are already gone, and now it is time for everyone else to line up to get out of the house. We are going to drive over to the City Hall for the wedding. When I asked why they were not going to have their wedding in a church - there is a church near our house and it feels like every week I see people going to get married inside and I am never invited - Mumma said it was because Miss Layla—I mean Aunt Layla and Uncle Bucky come from families who go to different kinds of churches from each other, so City Hall was A Compromise. When I asked what that meant, she said, “It’s something your father and I worked hard to learn,” which doesn’t make any sense because City Hall has nothing to do with figuring out not to feed Emma mushy bananas because they make her throw up everywhere.

But I knew what she meant about their families, because of the time when Uncle Bucky came home with Aunt Layla and they said that they were going to get married and Nana Barnes got a strange look on her face so Mumma and Daddy told me to go play somewhere else but I stood outside and listened with my Spying Ears. Then I heard Nana Barnes say, “Is this really a good idea?” and “You’re very different from each other...You come from different worlds,” and “Think of what the neighbors will say!” And Uncle Bucky said, “I don’t give a rat’s—” but Aunt Layla said in a very soft and pretty voice, “No, James, it’s fine. I understand that your mother is concerned that a PhD in chemical engineering might not have much to talk about with someone who has a master’s in mechanical. And I thank her for considering that I might have a hard time reconciling myself to marrying someone who’s such a new American citizen: after all, when your grandparents were still first considering getting on the boat over from Ireland, mine had already been ten years out of Babe Ruth.” (Later I asked Mumma and after she said I shouldn’t listen at doors, she told me that it was actually Beirut, but I still like mine better.) “And, of course, there’s the idea of a Boston girl marrying a New York boy, which is cause for a war itself. But I do love you, James, and it’s rather convenient to marry someone who works in the same place, as you can visit the cafeteria together. So I suppose I’ll persevere through all that.”

Everyone was quiet and I held my breath until my eyes got so big I thought they would maybe pop out of my head, but then Nana Barnes said, “Well, with a tongue like that I suppose you’ll fit in with the family,” and Uncle Bucky said, “Is it any wonder I’m marrying her?” Then Daddy said, “You’re damn lucky she even agreed to have you, Buck,” and Uncle Bucky said, “I’m no PhD, but even I know that,” and everyone laughed.

Now Nana is actually friends with Mrs. Adele, who is Aunt Layla’s mother. They are at the back of everybody, telling Aunt Layla and all the ladies to, “Come on now, girls, get into the cars!” There’s a big line of cars on the street. I go in between Aunt Josie and Miss Violet, because Mama went back to make sure that Daddy took Emma’s other clothes when he took Emma.

I hold my special shiny box that matches my special dress in my lap. Aunt Josie and Miss Violet are talking about how many people are going to come to the party this afternoon. I take sneaky looks to both sides, pretending to be watching out the window: everyone knows that I love to see where my daddy lived when he was my age, even though he says it looks different now. But I am not really doing that, I am checking to see if anyone is paying attention to me. They aren’t.

I open the box just a little bit, but I do not see the rings. So I open it a little more, and then a little more, until it is all the way open, but I still do not see the rings. I turn it over and shake the box, but nothing happens. I scream a long scream inside my head.

I have lost the rings.

Uncle Bucky and Aunt Layla need the rings to get married.

I have ruined the wedding.

“Rose?” Aunt Josie asks me. “Is everything alright?” She is a teacher, so she says she knows a little about Being A Young Person, but she works at high school so she does not know about being exactly my age. (Miss Violet is a teacher also, but Aunt Josie teaches English and Miss Violet teaches science and I think you can tell.)

“Everything is fine,” I say, because I know what Mumma would do now, which is be Strong And Brave and fix everything. But we are farther and farther away from the house where I must have lost the rings, so I am just a bit confused about how I can fix this.

Baby—I mean Bebe comes over to me right away as our car pulls up and I get out. “Hi Rosie!” she says, and I say, “Hi,” but very quietly. I am thinking about if anyone would notice if I tried to walk back to the house. But I did not go to Girl Scouts like my friend Chrissy Parker and so I cannot read maps and I would probably get lost forever. But maybe everyone would like that to happen now that I am the Wedding Ruiner.

“Maybe we can borrow her dress after the wedding and play Bride,” says Bebe, who does not seem to notice at all that I am Having A Crisis. She is still holding her flowers, and I cannot believe that it will be Bebe who is perfect while I have ruined my Very Important Job before the wedding has even started.

But it is too late to come up with a plan, because Aunt Layla comes out of her car and starts walking with her family up the steps. I try to hide at the back, but Mumma sees me and says, “Rose, why are you dawdling?” and takes me by the hand.

City Hall is very big and very beautiful. It feels like I am going to meet the president, except if I met the president, he would probably take one look at me and Put Me Right In Jail.

I think about how they would have to make little prison clothes just for me and I hate that so much that I decide that it is time to give up fixing things by myself. “Mumma,” I say, very quiet, so no one else can hear. But I guess it is too quiet, because she doesn’t hear me either. We walk up all the stairs, and at the top I see everyone in a huge group waiting outside a big room. I pull on her hand. “Mumma!”

“What is it, Rose?” For just one second, I think that I will tell her and she will fix everything so everyone will not Hate Me Forever, but then she looks away from me and says, “Oh, there’s your father and your sister.”

Daddy gives us a big smile when we go over to where he’s standing by Uncle Bucky and their friends. “It’s almost time,” he says. I take a big breath and start to talk, but Mumma is looking at Emma and saying, “Oh, she fell asleep again? Honestly, I think simply looking at a car has her closing her eyes. Here, let me take her.” And just because she’s taking sleepy Emma, they have to kiss, which is something Mumma and Daddy do All The Time.

“Some things never change, huh, Cap?” says Mr. Hat, which I don’t understand because Daddy’s name is Grant or sometimes Steve like my name is sometimes Rose and sometimes Rosie. “You spent the whole of the war looking to do that with Carter.”

“Pipe down, you loudmouth,” says Uncle Bucky in a strict voice I’ve only heard once before, but it just makes everyone laugh, and Mr. Jim says, “Guess that hasn’t changed either.”

And then, before I can even say anything, the tall doors are opening and a man who is bald and wearing a special, shiny black dress (I guess he did not want to be left out when everyone was So Fancy) says, “Are you all here for the Barnes-Mansour wedding?” And Nana Barnes says, “Yes, we are. Are you ready for us?”

“I guess that’s our cue, Rose,” says Daddy and he starts to bring me inside with him. He is too busy whispering to Uncle Bucky to hear it when I say his name the first time, and is helping Aunt Layla’s grandma through the door the next time I try to make him pay attention, so it is Perfectly Understandable that what I do is shout very loudly, “DADDY, I HAVE LOST THE RINGS SO I WILL GO RIGHT TO JAIL IF YOU TELL ME TO AND YOU CAN HAVE ALL THE MONEY FROM MY PORKY PIGGY BANK TO BUY NEW ONES.”

Everyone is quiet and staring at me, except for Emma who is still sleeping. I look down at the floor and stay very still. "I'm sorry," I say and hope that Uncle Bucky and Aunt Layla will hear me and know that I am Absolutely Ashamed Of Myself for what I have done.

But then Daddy says in a quiet voice, "You never had the rings, Rose."

That makes me look up at him. "But you gave me the box," I say, and shake it in front of him. Daddy usually has a good memory, but sometimes I have to remind him of things, like that he said that we would "have a discussion" about getting a puppy.

"Yes, but we were going to put the rings in once we had actually gotten here, remember? We talked about it last night." Now that he is mentioning it, I do think I recall something about that part, but I was very focused before bed on all of my important jobs that I might have not been really paying attention to this one tiny detail.

He puts his hand in his pocket and takes out two little velvety boxes. "Here. I'm sorry, Rosie. I should have reminded you."

Uncle Bucky bends next to me. "He's always been like this. Half the time he forgets to tell people the most important things."

"Next time, I'm sure he'll be more clear," says Mumma, who is leaning down to me even while still holding snoozy Emma.

And then Aunt Layla is there too, and she says, "I wasn't planning on there being a next time. In fact, I'd like to get the first and only time started." She takes her father's arm, then says, "If you could get up front, please, James."

After that, everything goes Just Perfectly. Bebe takes her flowers and I have my ring box and we go up to the front with Daddy and Uncle Bucky and Aunt Layla and her friend named Camille, and everyone else sits. The man in the black dress, who is the judge, says big words that sound important, and Uncle Bucky and Aunt Layla both answer him with big smiles, and then I open my box for them. Uncle Bucky has one arm which is metal from Things That Happened To Him In The War, so he wears his ring on the other hand, and he keeps touching it and smiling as the judge says it is time for a kiss.

(I guess Mumma and Daddy are contagious.)

Nana Barnes is crying during the wedding - I ask Daddy about it later, and he says that part of it is happy crying because she loves Uncle Bucky and is glad for his special day, and part of it is sad crying because she misses Uncle Bucky's father and his little sister, who are both dead and are not here to celebrate - but then she wipes her eyes all up and tells everyone to come back to the house for the special party and we all do.

It is even more crowded than it was this morning, and people are standing in almost every single spot, talking and laughing and eating all of my nana's good food. Bebe and I get big pieces of the cake and make a song about the wedding that I decide we will perform for everyone later, but before we can get up and announce ourselves, Uncle Bucky and Aunt Layla come over.

Uncle Bucky is not wearing his jacket anymore, and he has his arm wrapped around Aunt Layla's shoulders. They are both a little sweaty because it is Hot In Here, and also they found a little place to dance and all of their friends brought different records to play.

They hug Bebe first, and that is fair, because Bebe is not the one who was A True Embarrassment at the wedding. But then they hug me too, and say thank you for helping us get married and I look at the floor and say, "I don't remember it that way," and Uncle Bucky says, "Rosie, you made our wedding so special that everyone is going to remember it forever. And look." He shows me his ring and Aunt Layla's which are next to each other because they are holding hands. "You did your job just perfectly. Got the rings right where they needed to be."

"I guess that's true," I say, and start to make little traces on the floor with my shoe, but then stop because Mumma is always telling me, "Don't Scuff, Please, Rose."

"It's absolutely true," Aunt Layla says. "You've been a big help all day long. In fact," she looks over at Uncle Bucky with a tiny, tricky sort of smile on her face. "I don't think I answered your question from this morning."

I try to think back. "What question?"

"After you told me about the weather.” She leans close to me. “You see, I am wearing special underwear today."

"You know," says Uncle Bucky in a loud voice, "I think it's probably time to wrap this party up." But I just laugh at him.

"It's not even dark yet!" I tell him, and he makes a face at me. Then Bebe grabs my hand and says, "Let's go dance," and I run with her to where Mumma and Daddy are dancing to a fast song. They are very good, and I almost start to show off my dancing that I learned from them, but then I decide that this will just be dancing to Unwind After A Long Day.

I was a particularly excellent helper today, after all.

More chapters here

[ruvikkin-art]

“Well now Arthur, I heard some rumor floatin around about you. Wanna tell me if its true or not? You really hackin up flowers?” Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose and turned to Karen. “You can trust me, I ain’t here to judge. But everyone who knows- and people are knowin now- we all want to know who you’re coughing for. Mary-beth thought it might be her, I saw you two dancin when Sean came back.” “Karen-” “Or you coughin for Tilly? Unless you’re doin it for me which is sweet Arthur but you know that Sean and I… Well… He’d put up a fight though I don’t think it’d be much of one for you.”

“Why you act so sour all the time?” Arthur gripped the reins in his hands and wiped some mud from his face, glaring over at Micah. They had just shot up half a town, Micah making a house call in the middle of all of it for some guns, and had killed good people and lawmen just trying to get out of there. He wished he had let Micah hang, he should really drag Micah back and throw him to the lawmen and high tail out of there but he knew that Dutch would be very unhappy if Micah got out again and told him what Arthur had done.

“Yeah well you ain’t funny at all so why you gotta act like the court jester?” Micah shook his head and turned his horse around.

“Well I’m sorry cowpoke but you and me, were family now. Sons of Dutch, makes us brothers… and sometimes brothers make mistakes. Now I’m headin’ back to my camp round back of Strawberry. Come see me, maybe I can make things up to you.” Arthur gave Micah a confused look, wondering what he’d be doing going back to his own camp- and wondering when he MADE a camp since he’d been with Lenny and then in jail as far as he knew.

“You ain’t headin’ back to Dutch?”

“No, I’ve been a bad boy Arthur. I ain’t going back to Dutch til I can get him a peace offering.” Micah clicked his tongue, signaling his horse to go while before waving goodbye to Arthur.

Arthur scowled and rode off, eager to get back to camp and tell Strauss now what had happened at the Downes farm.

Pulling the bow off his horse Arthur decided to take a bit of time to hunt and practice with the bow. If he didn’t catch anything at least he could tell Charles he’d been practicing with it, maybe even convince the man to go out hunting with him sometime soon. They’d both been so busy it felt like Arthur hadn’t spoken to him since they got Sean home safe. Now with Micah out of jail and the possibility he’ll be coming back to the gang soon looming over Arthurs head he figured he may as well go all in with it. Just hoping at least he didn’t get killed by a bunch of flowers.

Arthur rode into the woods, tracking down a deer that he could tell would be good for a stew. He jumped off his horse and crouched down to follow the trail quietly. Finally when he saw the deer, Arthur lifted the bow up and aimed.

“Aim for the head or the neck, we want a good clean kill.” Arthur took in a deep breath as he thought about Charles words, trying to keep his hands steady and his mind clear but the damage was already done. Just as he pulled back to let the arrow fly his lungs ached and his throat tightened, causing him to start hacking and of course scare the deer. Hacking out a fist full of petals, Arthur cussed loudly and made his way back to his horse, climbing onto her and clicking his tongue to ride off. If he couldn’t even catch a god damn deer without being distracted and coughing then he knew it was about time for a long talk with Charles.

The rest of the ride went almost smooth, only stopping once when he got hit by another wave of petals creeping up out of his lungs so he’d almost choke. He didn’t catch anything so when he returned to camp he made a beeline for Strauss, still angry the man had taken out a loan with someone who was so ill they probably wouldn’t make it the next month and made sure to tell him so. Strauss waved it off and told him they’d get it at a later date which was fine by Arthur.

Trying to keep any attention from coming to himself Arthur decided to do some chores around the camp while he kept his eyes out for Charles around. Either Charles was actively avoiding him or was truly busy because it seemed like whenever Arthur would look for him the man was never around the camp. With a sigh Arthur picked up a bail of hay, carrying it almost halfway across camp- whoever decided to put the horses so far off had made an incredibly dumb choice, before Karen walked over with a grin on her face.

“Well now Arthur, I heard some rumor floatin around about you. Wanna tell me if its true or not? You really hackin up flowers?” Arthur rubbed  the bridge of his nose and turned to Karen. “You can trust me, I ain’t here to judge. But everyone who knows- and people are knowin now- we all want to know who you’re coughing for. Mary-beth thought it might be her, I saw you two dancin when Sean came back.”

“Karen-”

“Or you coughin for Tilly? Unless you’re doin it for me which is sweet Arthur but you know that Sean and I… Well… He’d put up a fight though I don’t think it’d be much of one for you.”

“Karen.” Arthur snapped her name and that seemed to get her to quiet down. “I don’t want to talk about it. Whole damn camp knows I’m coughin, fine, but I don’t need that person knowing until I’m ready.” Karen raised her brow, taking a long drag of the cigarette in her fingers.

“Lighten up would ya? It ain’t a death sentence.” She dropped the cigarette on the ground and stepped on it to put it out before smiling to Arthur. “But you know I don’t tell any secrets, I got plenty of em. I just want to know, maybe I can help.”

Arthur looked around the camp and gently put his hand on Karens shoulder, tugging her over gently. “I trust you with my life. Trust most of the people here with my life, but believe me when I say this isn’t something I want help with. You’ll find out eventually, and you’ll find out with the rest of the camp.” With a smile Arthur pat her shoulder and walked off before she could snap at him.

It was getting dark and Arthur was getting tired now, with no sign of Charles in the camp he decided to make his way over to his tent. Before he could even sit down he heard Dutch call out his name. With a sigh Arthur turned to him, ready to hear out whatever he had to say this time.

“Arthur, son I know you’re tired but I need you to do one last thing tonight.” Arthur rubbed his eyes and nodded to Dutch to tell him to continue. “Hosea thinks he has a job down in Emerald Ranch, and needs you down there tonight. It shouldn’t take long, you know Hosea is an in and out kind of guy, and you can sleep when you’re back.” Arthur reluctantly agreed to head down and see what Hosea needed. “Thank you son.”

Dutch turned and left him, so Arthur made his way back across the camp to the horses, climbing up onto his own to ride out. On the way out he almost rode into Charles, who looked like he just returned from a very good hunting trip, which made Arthur feel good since he hadn’t been able to catch anything earlier. Arthur smiled and tipped his hat to Charles and felt his heart flutter when Charles smiled back at him before the two of them rode past each other. He rode a bit quicker as he felt his chest tighten again before he began hacking up flower petals once more, spitting them out onto the ground.

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Arthur finally arrived at Emerald Ranch, more tired now than before and running on the fact that Hosea wouldn’t let a simple job take too long and he’d be in his cot and sleeping hopefully before the sun rose. Hosea seemed happy to see Arthur, quickly introducing him to the man he was dealing with- Seamus. Arthur was not in the mood to deal with him if he was honest, the man looked like he didn’t want to deal with them either and it seemed like Hosea had probably pulled a hell of a stunt to even get the man to sit down and talk to him. Seamus obviously didn’t trust them and Arthur didn’t care, but Hosea seemed pushy.

After a quick conversation and a promise that it’d be all hushed and nobody would find out, Seamus gave Hosea and Arthur a job and sent them on their way. He was having them rob his cousin, didn’t give them any reason to be worried though since both of them knew that family matters would stay in the family and this was purely business.

Once they were away from the barn Hosea was quick to question him. “You couldn’t have played that any better?”

“Thought you wanted me to show some strong arm? Thats usually how it goes.”

“Yes but you know how this goes.” Hosea rode next to Arthur and gave him a worried look. “Are you still angry about those flowers? Gotta take it out on people we’re tryin’ to get money from is that it?” “Hosea…” Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That ain’t it. This guy is a joke and you know it.”

“Thats why hes perfect. He won’t cause us any problems. A safe spot to fence wagons and coaches, well thats easy money for us.” Hosea leaned over and pat Arthur on the back. “But, really Arthur; Dutch and I are worried about you. We haven’t seen you do much talking to Charles lately and those petals don’t go away naturally, avoiding him isn’t going to work.”

Arthur could almost laugh at that. “Avoiding him? I’ve been tryin’ to talk to him. Feels like everytime I get up the courage to talk to him he’s nowhere to be found. Either he’s leaving camp when I show up or I’m leavin when he rides back in. I ran into him on the way out to come ‘n see you but I didn’t really have the time to say anything.”

“Now now, don’t put the blame on me. He was in camp when I left to come down here. So you haven’t been avoiding him at all? You sure about that?” No, Arthur wasn’t sure. As much as it was frustrating that they never seemed to be in camp at the same time, he also knew somewhere he was almost relieved they weren’t bumping into each other. It didn’t help the feelings and the petals at all, but it seemed to give Arthur an excuse for not talking to him. Arthur knew he could easily find Charles or wait around if he really wanted to, doing chores around the camp or what not until Charles rode back in.

“Hosea I ain’t sure its gonna work. I’m not sure hes… Well…” Arthur trailed off and waved his hand in the air like that was an explanation. Hosea had his horse trot out in front of Arthurs so Arthur would have to stop, and Hosea just raised his brow at Arthur to have him continue. “I ain’t sure hes into guys Hosea. I seen him around bars and he’s always tryin’ to hook up with a woman, never catch him glancin at a man the same way or- hell he barely glances at me when I’m around.” Arthur closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nose. “I’m scared Hosea. You know how fast the disease can progress with rejection, we’ve seen it happen. Not to anyone important but we’ve seen it. Those people, they die in less than a week, sometimes they’re dead by the next morning.”

“You know if that happens doctors can remove it, sure it progresses quickly but we can always find you a doctor. I’m sure Dutch wouldn’t mind spending some money to get you healthy. Might be awkward as hell around Charles for awhile, but you could still survive. I don’t want to see you wither away because you can’t pull yourself to talk to someone, and I won’t watch you sink into a bottle again because you’re in love with someone.” Again. The word made Arthur flinch, made him remember back to when he was ‘in love’ with Mary and when they’d broken up, how he’d come back to camp and drank himself to the point of a blackout until Hosea hid away everything and made sure someone was with Arthur to keep him away from bars.

“I’ll… I’ll talk to him Hosea. When I get time I will. Tomorrow, maybe if Dutch doesn’t have me runnin’ around again and I can actually find Charles.” Hosea nodded, seeming a little happy with that answer.

“I’ll hold you to that one. Now, lets go rob this cousin by marriage before the sun comes up shall we?”

`````````

Arthur rode back into camp with Hosea, dead tired now from the very long day he had and his cot just seemed to be screaming his name. He hitched up his horse, giving her a carrot and a sugar cube before he finally made his way over to his tent. Noticing a letter on the table he had, Arthur picked it up and felt bile rise in the back of his throat as he immediately recognized the handwriting. Mary, of course it was Mary, writing a letter to him about meeting up. It made his heart jump as he read about her being in town and that she needed some sort of help, god damn of course she did. He set the letter down and sat on the edge of his cot, running his hands over his face as he thought about going to see her. Arthur knew they were long past every making up and getting back together, especially with flowers trying to grow in his lungs for someone else, but Arthur figured the least he could do is see what she needed help with.

Finally Arthur was able to lay down, he threw his arm over his eyes before closing them so he could sleep better- hopefully at least that was the plan.

[krkekcnehx]

Negan’s Rose - Chapter 1

Word count: 2351

Warnings: mentions of hunger pains.

This is my very first chapter of my very first fic. This just kinda sets up the character and lets you get to know her a bit. More exciting things are to come in the next chapters. If you read this, thank you !!!

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Chapter 1

You had been on your own for four months before everything changed. You had managed fine at first, finding an old barn about a mile off of a small stream that ran through the trees. You were lucky to have a source of fresh water and used it to wash yourself and your clothes, making you more presentable than the average survivor. When you investigated the barn for the first time it was completely empty apart from a few bales of hay that you had used as a makeshift mattress. There were no signs of life in the barn so you hesitantly made it your home for the time being. You spent the time scavenging in the small neighbourhood close by, it was a three mile walk each time however your scarce food supply was slowly depleting and you had hopes of finding others you could join. You were a natural introvert before all of this and you thrived being on your own. You loved curling up with a good book and a mug of hot tea while the sound of the rain calmed your mind after a busy day at work, but those cozy days were over and circumstance had forced you to become a people person. Over the weeks you were becoming weaker and weaker, the hunger pains getting worse. You were gonna have to go further out if you had any chance at finding new supplies and food.

You awoke at sunrise and the familiar dull hunger hit you immediately. You sipped on some water you had collected from the stream the night before, hoping it would briefly soothe the ache before you had to resort to eating the last of your food. With weak shaky hands you combed your hair through with your fingers before securing it in a tight braid the way your mother had taught you as a child, letting it rest on your neck. You had picked up the ginger gene from her side of the family and got your looks from her too. Your porcelain pale skin contrasted against your bright golden hair and red lips. You were the centre of a lot of attention before the world went to shit. Men liked you. You were witty and charming and had striking good looks. It could disarm a man and make him fall to his knees, but a year of surviving in this world had taken a toll on you and it was evident, with your protruding cheek bones and deep set eyes as green as the forest. You had dark circles and you looked and felt weak, not remembering the last time you had had a decent meal. Any muscle mass you had gained was withering away and your ribs were beginning to become prominent. Adapting to this new world was tough, you hated violence and couldn’t use a gun to save yourself. Literally. Guns were never your thing and your mother taught you to use violence as an absolute last resort. This wasn’t much of a problem in the old world as you could talk your way out of most things, manipulating the situation to your advantage. You had an incredible gift for reading people and a sharp, quick sense of humour which you assumed you picked up from your father, your mother telling you stories of how he had smooth talked and charmed her. This had helped you in the past when you came across other survivors, convincing them to trust you and let you join their groups. You never had any bad intentions but you knew that you had to convince them you didn’t anyway, they were wary of who to take in, naturally. But you knew you couldn’t rely solely on your personality and had to adapt your mentality as you navigated through this new world, forcing yourself to learn to use a knife. You had only killed a handful of walkers and it didn’t get any easier each time. Your breath still caught in your throat whenever you came face to face with them as you forced yourself to unfreeze and defend yourself.

You double checked your back pack making sure you had everything before you set off. Water bottle, a spare knife, a small blanket, the last granola bar you were down to and an old tattered photo of your mother and your older brother. You traced the outline of their faces with your fingers, losing yourself momentarily in memories of a past life. This was your only family and not knowing where they were, if they were even alive ate away at you, however you were good at repressing these things. The absence of your father growing up had rendered you cold and taught you to lower your expectations. You failed to form meaningful bonds with the groups you were a part of before so as not to get hurt, but this left you extremely lonely. On multiple occasions your mind retreated to a familiar dark place and you had thought about ending it, but you were strong like your brother and kept on going. You knew that there were other people out there you just had to find them.

You took another sip of water, the hunger still gnawing away at you as you tried to hold off on eating the last of your food for as long as you could manage. You always kept your boots on in case you had to run. You tied your plaid shirt around your waist over the only t-shirt you had, an old faded camp shirt that was another reminder of your past life. The summer had been harsh and unrelenting and scavenging and walking miles in the Georgia heat had been brutal, constantly testing your thirst however it was coming to an end and you knew the winter was going to be even worse if you didn’t find somewhere more secure. You slumped your denim jacket over your shoulders and put on your backpack before leaving the small barn, knife at the ready. You would miss your makeshift home that had sheltered you from the world, but you hoped someone else would find it once you had left. You didn’t know exactly where you were going but you wanted to make it to the small town a few miles away before the sun rose fully in the sky. You made your way through the woods, the familiar ache in your legs from your daily hiking trips to the water stream resurfacing as you picked up your pace. The sun was still rising so the woods were dusky, gloomy but peaceful. You walked for about two hours before you reached the long dirt road that led to the town. You allowed yourself to stop for a rest, stretching your legs and taking the smallest sip of water, knowing you had to conserve it for the day. You balled your hands into fists and pushed your stomach inwards, tricking it into feeling full to try and distract yourself from the growing hunger pains, a trick a former leader of an old group had taught you.

The silence you had become accustomed to was suddenly interrupted as you heard the snarl of a walker emerging from the other side of the trees. Walkers were rare when you were deep in the forest and you only had to deal with the occasional straggler, however you were edging closer to your destination and knew that there would be more walkers ahead. You quickly grabbed ahold of your knife taking a deep breath and in one swift move brought it down on the poor thing’s skull, instantly silencing it. You couldn’t help but wander if he - No, it- you reminded yourself had a family before all of this. You swiftly pushed that thought aside knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Even though it was smaller than you and weak, killing it had used a lot of your energy and you were starting to feel faint. You knew you were going to have to regain some strength if you were going to walk another hour and a half until you reached the town -Fuck it- you thought reaching into your backpack for the granola bar. You struggled to even open it, using more strength than you had as you took a small bite, appreciating how it felt in your mouth, the maple syrup it was coated in feeling sweet on your tongue. It was like heroin. You chewed slowly and deliberately, savouring it as you broke up the rest of it into three parts before putting it securely into your pocket, saving it for later.

You wanted to curl up in a ball on the dirt road for a few moments, your whole body exhausted and hungry. You had no time to stop and rest as you saw another walker emerge from the trees about 40 feet away from you. It was slowly making its way towards you however it was big and you knew it could easily overpower you in your current state. You forced your feet to move, ignoring the burn in your chest. You were faster than the walkers. If I keep walking it can’t get to me. This was the mentality you adopted for the rest of the day.

You had been walking for about an hour and had put some distance between you and the now group of walkers that had gathered. There was about five of them and even though you were practically running you still looked back at every chance you got. You came across the familiar sign for the town, telling you you were half a mile off. Not long now. Then you can rest. You kept a steady pace as you sipped on your water. The town came into view on the horizon, little houses and stores all lined up. You had lost the walkers that were trailing you and you were hoping the town was as empty as it was when you had re searched it for the hundredth time the week before. You felt the familiar heeby jeebies as you made your way down the desolate street, desperately wishing you had someone with you, the loneliness getting to you. It was times like this you wish your brother was here to crack a joke. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed.

You stopped outside a house you had searched before knowing it was free of walkers. You cautiously searched the lower half of the house, checking the kitchen, living room and small bathroom making sure to check behind every door. You made your way up the staircase methodically doing the same thing in all the rooms. Once you were convinced the house was still empty you made your way to one of the bedrooms. You had to deal with your hunger straight away as it was becoming all consuming. You found the rest of your granola bar and told yourself you were only going to eat two pieces of it, saving the third but you lacked the self control and ate it all. The burn in your stomach eased a little bit as the food settled, however the panic set in as you realised you were down to no food supplies. You tried to calm yourself down by familiarising yourself with the room. You would deal with your food problem after you had rested. You had been in here before but only to search for walkers.

You tried to tell from the decor who it belonged to. The walls were a pale pink colour and were covered in band posters and fairy lights that had been strung up. The batteries were long dead but you could imagine what the room looked like with them switched on. Looking closer, you saw photos taped to the wall in a heart shaped montage. The photos were of a young girl, maybe 16/17 with all of her friends, smiling and laughing. She had blue eyes as clear as swimming pools in July and long blonde windswept hair. You instantly felt a pang of sadness for this beautiful stranger as you realised you were standing in the remnants of this girl’s life. You made your way over to the dresser and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, letting out a small gasp. Your hair was hanging loosely out of its braid and you noticed how long it had grown, well past your shoulders. Your cheekbones were sharper and your face looked hollow, devoid of any colour from your lack of food and rest. Your already pale complexion not doing you any favours. You took your hair down from it’s braid taking a moment to try and unwind all the knots. Your body desperately needed sleep and more food but you wanted to feel human again. You didn’t even recognise yourself. You opened the dresser drawer and searched around for a hairbush, finding moisturisers, hair products and perfumes and took the moment to rub some cream into your face, pretending for a brief moment that you were just a normal teenager in a normal world getting ready for school. You weren’t starving, lonely or tired, you were simply moisturising. Your skin tingled at the sensation, not used to being pampered after a year of a makeup less world. You kept searching for a brush when your hand touched smooth metal, it was a tin. You suddenly remembered your teenage years when you hid your diaries in your sock drawers and left little notes for the future you to find. This girl wouldn’t want a stranger snooping around in her things and you felt guilty for a moment, but she could have some hidden cigarettes or medical supplies. What you would give for a cigarette. You knew smoking was a horrible habit but it was your vice before all of this. Curiosity got the better of you and you hesitantly opened it, not believing what you had found. Tears of happiness threatened to spill over as your searched the small tin. It was packed full with chocolate, beef jerky, gummy candies and peanuts. You had found this strangers snack stash.

[ttawoabw]

Wow, the last book haul I did was back in August of 2017!  I might have forgotten a few books or there may be repeats from old book hauls, but I honestly haven’t bought that many books in the past 7 months.  Wow.. 7 months without buying enough books to warrant a haul? I should receive an award. I am an affiliate for the Book Depository so in full disclosure, the links to purchase the books in this post may give me a small commission.

Rebekah

by Jill Eileen Smith

Book two in the Wives of the Patriarchs series.

Christian Historical Fiction

When her father dies and she is left in the care of her conniving brother Laban, Rebekah knows her life has changed forever. Her hope for the future is restored when she falls in love with her cousin Isaac, and their relationship starts strong. But marital bliss cannot last forever, and the birth of their twin sons marks the beginning of years of misunderstanding, disagreement, and betrayal. The rift between them grows wider and wider until it is surely too deep to be mended. And yet, with God all things are possible.

Book Depository: Paperback

Scarlet

by A.C Gaughen

Book one in the Scarlet trilogy.

Young Adult Historical Fantasy Romance Retelling

★★★★

I won this in a giveaway held on Twitter by Kelly from @divabooknerd.  I love this retelling of Robin Hood, I’ve read it over and over and I’m so happy to finally have a physical copy of it to read!

Will Scarlet is good at two things: stealing from the rich and keeping secrets – skills that are in high demand in Robin Hood’s band of thieves, who protect the people of Nottingham from the evil sheriff. Scarlet’s biggest secret of all is one only Robin and his men know…that she is posing as a thief; that the slip of a boy who is fast with sharp knives is really a girl.

The terrible events in her past that led Scarlet to hide her real identity are in danger of being exposed when the thief taker Lord Gisbourne arrives in town to rid Nottingham of the Hood and his men once and for all. As Gisbourne closes in a put innocent lives at risk, Scarlet must decide how much the people of Nottingham mean to her, especially John Little, a flirtatious fellow outlaw, and Robin, whose quick smiles have the rare power to unsettle her. There is real honor among these thieves and so much more – making this a fight worth dying for.

Book Depository: Paperback

Gemina

by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

Book two in The Illuminae Files trilogy.

Young Adult Science Fiction

When Illuminae came out I thought I would read it straight away.  I did not.  I read Illuminae the week the last book in the trilogy came out.  And I loved it! So I went out and bought Gemina and Obsidio because I needed to continue to story.  Even though I was hoping to get all of them in hardcover from the Book Depository.

(THIS BLURB IS FROM ILLUMINAE SO THERE WON’T BE ANY SPOILERS)

This morning, Kady thought breaking up with Ezra was the hardest thing she’d have to do. This afternoon, her planet was invaded.

The year is 2575, and two rival megacorporations are at war over a planet that’s little more than an ice-covered speck at the edge of the universe. Too bad nobody thought to warn the people living on it. With enemy fire raining down on them, Kady and Ezra—who are barely even talking to each other—are forced to fight their way onto an evacuating fleet, with an enemy warship in hot pursuit.

But their problems are just getting started. A deadly plague has broken out and is mutating, with terrifying results; the fleet’s AI, which should be protecting them, may actually be their enemy; and nobody in charge will say what’s really going on. As Kady hacks into a tangled web of data to find the truth, it’s clear only one person can help her bring it all to light: the ex-boyfriend she swore she’d never speak to again.

BRIEFING NOTE: Told through a fascinating dossier of hacked documents—including emails, schematics, military files, IMs, medical reports, interviews, and more—Illuminae is the first book in a heart-stopping, high-octane trilogy about lives interrupted, the price of truth, and the courage of everyday heroes.

Book Depository: Paperback

Book Depository: Hardcover

Obsidio

by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

Book three in The Illuminae Files trilogy.

Young Adult Science Fiction

  Book Depository: Paperback

Book Depository: Hardcover

Barnes and Noble: Special Edition

Daughter of the Siren Queen

by Tricia Levenseller

Book two in the Daughter of the Pirate King duology.

Young Adult Fantasy Romance

It took me a LONG time to get around to reading Daughter of the Pirate King, I mean I loved the premise and I love pirates and I was so excited when it first came out.  But it wasn’t until the sequel was about to be released that I actually picked it up.  And devoured it.  I went and pre-ordered Daughter of the Siren Queen (unfortunately I was too late to receive the pre-order incentive gift, but I still got the PDF first chapter of Daughter of the Pirate King from Riden’s POV so that was exciting!) and I also ordered it on Kindle so I could read it as soon as it came out.

(THIS BLURB IS FROM DAUGHTER OF THE PIRATE KING SO THERE WON’T BE ANY SPOILERS)

There will be plenty of time for me to beat him soundly once I’ve gotten what I came for.

Sent on a mission to retrieve an ancient hidden map—the key to a legendary treasure trove—seventeen-year-old pirate captain Alosa deliberately allows herself to be captured by her enemies, giving her the perfect opportunity to search their ship.

More than a match for the ruthless pirate crew, Alosa has only one thing standing between her and the map: her captor, the unexpectedly clever and unfairly attractive first mate, Riden. But not to worry, for Alosa has a few tricks up her sleeve, and no lone pirate can stop the Daughter of the Pirate King.

Book Depository: Hardcover

Rosemarked

by Livia Blackburne

Book one in the Rosemarked series (duology, trilogy?)

Young Adult Fantasy

★★★★

I was originally a bit hesitant about this one, the blurb just sounded so cliche and I was worried I wouldn’t ever get around to reading it if I bought it.  But then I just sort of caved (can’t remember why?) and bought it.  Then when it arrived I read it.  AND LOVED IT!  I didn’t write a review but in the cover reveal fro Umbertouched, the sequel, I expressed some of my thoughts – so you can check that out HERE.

A healer who cannot be healed . . .

When Zivah falls prey to the deadly rose plague, she knows it’s only a matter of time before she fully succumbs. Now she’s destined to live her last days in isolation, cut off from her people and unable to practice her art—until a threat to her village creates a need that only she can fill.

A soldier shattered by war . . .

Broken by torture at the hands of the Amparan Empire, Dineas thirsts for revenge against his captors. Now escaped and reunited with his tribe, he’ll do anything to free them from Amparan rule—even if it means undertaking a plan that risks not only his life but his very self.

Thrust together on a high-stakes mission to spy on the capital, the two couldn’t be more different: Zivah, deeply committed to her vow of healing, and Dineas, yearning for vengeance. But as they grow closer, they must find common ground to protect those they love. And amidst the constant fear of discovery, the two grapple with a mutual attraction that could break both of their carefully guarded hearts.

This smart, sweeping fantasy with a political edge and a slow-burning romance will capture fans of The Lumatere Chronicles and An Ember in the Ashes.

Book Depository: Hardcover

The Case for Jamie

by Brittany Cavallaro

Book three in the Charlotte Holmes quartet.

Young Adult Contemporary Mystery Retelling

I read A Study of Charlotte way back in 2016, and I loved it so much I wrote a review for it (you can read that HERE).  When The Last of August came out I also loved it.  And then I forgot all about this series.  It was by chance that I came across the third installment and discovered it would be a quartet.  I look forward to reading more about Jamie and Charlotte and seeing the character development that a year has had on them.

(THIS BLURB IS FROM A STUDY OF CHARLOTTE SO THERE WON’T BE ANY SPOILERS)

The last thing Jamie Watson wants is a rugby scholarship to Sherringford, a Connecticut prep school just an hour away from his estranged father. But that’s not the only complication: Sherringford is also home to Charlotte Holmes, the famous detective’s great-great-great-granddaughter, who has inherited not only Sherlock’s genius but also his volatile temperament. From everything Jamie has heard about Charlotte, it seems safer to admire her from afar.

From the moment they meet, there’s a tense energy between them, and they seem more destined to be rivals than anything else. But when a Sherringford student dies under suspicious circumstances, ripped straight from the most terrifying of the Sherlock Holmes stories, Jamie can no longer afford to keep his distance. Jamie and Charlotte are being framed for murder, and only Charlotte can clear their names. But danger is mounting and nowhere is safe—and the only people they can trust are each other.

Book Depository: Hardcover

A Court of Thorns and Roses Coloring Book

by Sarah J. Maas and Charlie Bowater

Colouring book companion to the ACOTAR series.

Self explanatory.  It’s the colouring book for A Court of Thorns and Roses drawn by the greatest ACOTAR artist, Charlie Bowater.  I bought it in anticipation of A Court of Frost and Starlight.  I’m excited to start colouring it!

Book Depository: Colouring Book

Impressive Wingspan

by Jessica from JCroftDesigns on Etsy

A Court of Thorns and Roses series Sticker

★★★★★

I saw this sticker and could not resist!  I love it so much and the letter from Jessica was really sweet!  I have it on my laptop (my boss had questions….) and I love it so much I actually went ahead and ordered two more! It’s just  so cute, and funny and makes me swoon a little thinking of Rhysand.

Etsy: JCroftDesigns

  Second Hand Books

Trashed by Alison Gaylin

Trashed by Alison Gaylin

Trace by Lori Foster

Ranger’s Apprentice: The Burning Bridge by John Flannagan

Palace of Darkness by Tracy L. Higley

  What books have you bought lately?

Have you read any of these books?  What did you think?

  My Links:

Goodreads : Becca Winter

Instagram : bookie_becca

Twitter : @Becca_Bookworm

Facebook : The Troubles And Woes Of A Bookworm

Affiliate: Book Depository

Referral: OwlCrate

Referral: The Bookish Box

Referral: Romance Reveal

Referral: Cratejoy

Becca

xxx

(A Short but Long Overdue) Book Haul #16 Wow, the last book haul I did was back in August of 2017!  I might have forgotten a few books or there may be repeats from old book hauls, but I honestly haven't bought that many books in the past 7 months. 

[bluegrasshole]

Clumsy Lovers

So… I said about three hundred times that I would never write in the Strange Lovers universe again but… it’s @angeryginger‘s birthday so here’s… Jack Zimmermann’s backstory. Happy birthday babe all I wanted to do was sent this to you to beta.

The Zimmermanns are in large part based on my mother’s family, who were relatively rich anglophones (English, even), in a small Acadian fishing village around the same time. And the cherry tree is also real – and my great- grandfather apparently once caught my father, who was a teenager at the time, stealing cherries from it. 

The Clumsy Lovers’ Set is my favourite set of fiddle tunes of all time. In same places it’s also known as the Sloppy Kissers’ or the Awkward Fuckers’.

Read Strange Lovers first.

Content warning: alcoholism, alcohol poisoning, child labour. KVP.

Robert Zimmermann, who owned the wharf and the store and a truck and a car and a big house which overlooked the ocean upon which the sun set, was a rich man. He had a beautiful wife – possibly the most beautiful wife in the whole county, if not the province, said the fishermen when Zimmermann could not hear, and a single spoiled, fat son who refused to speak to anyone who was not his family, they said whether the boy was around or not. Les goddamn d’anglais. Living in relative opulence though it was wartime, and so many men were missing or dead or gone, and so many boats were too empty to go out, and so many women were scared and struggling and so many children could not even remember what their fathers’ faces looked like. They were Americans, and though the son had been born on Acadian soil in that house, and though Zimmermann learned French and his son grew speaking it, they would never be anything but Americans. 

There was a tree before the Zimmermann house, and in the spring it blossomed pink and beautiful before it bore sweet cherries in the summer, which were coveted by the young people in the village, though none were brave enough to sneak onto the property to steal some. None save of course for Kent Parson.

The reality of the thing was that Kent Parson was not, he said, afraid of anything and so to him Robert Zimmermann’s cherry tree represented nothing more than a goal to achieve. And perhaps to most this sounded like some kind of lie that came from the infatigable pride which only the very poorest possessed, but Jack had heard enough stories about Parson and the things he did that he knew it was the truth.

Jack was twelve when his father caught Kent Parson climbing the cherry tree in the front yard after the sun went down one July evening. Kent, who was the same age and defiant, swore some gadelles he had certainly learned while sneaking around on the wharves, while Robert pulled him into the house with a tight hand on his collar. Jack watched and heard that part from his open bedroom window on the second floor though he did not go down to eavesdrop on the rest, knowing his father would not take kindly to that.

In fact his father did not take kindly to most things Jack did, though the other villagers didn’t know that. Jack was weak and shy and sickly and mostly wanted to read books which Jack’s mother Alicia indulged but which his father detested, as he wanted to begin grooming Jack to become a business-man too. To take over the store, eventually, though that seemed too far away to even think about. Robert wanted to open another store further up the coast near Digby but as it was didn’t have the manpower or resources to do it until the war ended. 

In the morning Jack woke early so he could go pick cherries for his mother’s breakfast but found instead Kent Parson sitting at his kitchen table with his mouth stained red.

He stayed with them through the summer, and Jack never asked why or even went out of his way to speak with the boy though he gleaned from his mother’s gossip on the telephone with her sisters back in Boston that it was because Kent had been living in barns and on the sofas of whoever would take him and mostly eating day-old bread from the bakery and dried fish and crab apples and the clams he dug up from the bay during low tide and smoked over fires he made on the beach. And the more Robert loved Kent it seemed the Jack the more he hated his real son, as was proven in the fall, when Robert told them both that he was putting them to work on the wharf to clean and go down into the hulls of lobster boats, where they were small enough to fit into the pits where the fish was held, and throw them up to the fishermen and older boys waiting to load them into crates for Robert to sell to the States.

At times it felt like Jack was drowning in lobster and the smell would stay beneath his skin forever and his hands would never heal from the ways the lobsters’ juices would seep into his cracked and cut-open fingers and infect them. Salt felt like a weapon upon them, upon him. One of the ocean’s many.

But at least it shut his father up.

Of course it meant he could no longer go to school, as the season started in mid-November until May or June, and the preparation work began a month before. And then summer was for repairing boats and traps and digging for clams and diving for scallops and for some going up the coast and even to Cape Breton to fish the summer season there, where they had crab as well as lobster. Some fished tuna and herring, cod, mackerel. Some spent the summer in mink farms, some became draveurs, raftsmen driving logs down rivers, some went up to the Annapolis valley to find farmwork, some went even further, to the mines or to steel plants. There was money in all of it, though not always good money, and Boston was only a few hours’ boat ride away, so some said the villages along the French Shore suffered less than others as the war went on. At least in the Bay of Fundy they were more or less safe from the German U-Boats which sometimes came close to Halifax Harbour or even nearer, in Shelburne.

So Jack and Kent worked year-round from twelve-years-old on, and lived together almost as brothers, and it was Jack who found Kent when he began wandering again, and who taught him to read, a little, and, when Robert grew tired of Kent’s chaotic and often insubordinate nature, Jack who brought him to his favourite spots in the woods, who taught him to play hockey in the roads and on frozen ponds.

Alicia, when she was not busy with her quilting group and tea parties in Yarmouth and other such things, took it upon herself to teach them both how to play the piano, which Jack hated but Kent, somehow, excelled at. His fingers were nimble and his mind was clever and he learned quickly. So with something akin perhaps to jealousy Jack asked his mother for a fiddle and took it upon himself to learn. Robert had been angry when he found out and Jack had played louder. But the music was just another thing he and Kent could do together, now, and it seemed Kent knew which tunes Jack would play next without prior warning, and by the time they were sixteen they were playing in kitchens at parties and both knew some dance steps.

Kent spoke English, by virtue of having been born to a Yarmouth fisherman’s wife who died in childbirth, and though the language was something to be mocked and hated when it came from Jack’s mouth, from Kent the girls found it charming. As such Jack spoke to him mostly in French.

By then the war was over and they had each been given a place on a boat, a friend of Jack’s father who was old and needed much help, and whose crew had found other, better, newer boats. His name was Éphraim à Cyprien Bourque and in addition to his lobster license and his boat the Honorine-Marie, he was a bootlegger who made his own moonshine out of his back shed and who sold it to whoever could pay.

Jack’s first day at sea made him sick of it, so sick he could barely stand or look out at the rolling expanse, and somehow the only thing that helped was some moonshine Kent had bought from their captain the week previous. It made no sense but neither did the way Kent laughed when he brought the bottle to Jack’s lips, unmocking, perhaps relieved.

They were sixteen, and they were sailors, and maybe more or less than brothers, and musicians, and Kent had many friends and even girlfriends on occasion, and they brought home money with which Jack could buy more moonshine. Robert said nothing about it or about anything regarding Jack and Kent these days as he had finally opened his new store and though he made it clear he still wanted Jack by his side eventually perhaps, he and Kent had at some point begun to resent each other and so wouldn’t speak, though Kent had not yet left. It was something Jack didn’t understand and perhaps never would or wouldn’t try to. Alicia saw nothing and Éphraim only wanted his money. In any case Jack and Kent were some of the best workers he’d ever had on his boat, he said, despite how Kent picked fights with the boys on the others wharves at barn parties and sang too much before the sun rose at sea and Jack spoke too little always.

But Jack came to love the ocean, perhaps even more than he feared it. As powerless as it made him feel he thought sometimes he needed that, to be reminded of his smallness, his impotence – and anyway Kent always said he felt the opposite. Like if he could conquer the sea he could conquer anything. 

In the first summer of the new decade Éphraim gave Jack the boat. They signed the proper papers and the license and just like that the Marie-Honorine was his. July 4th, 1950. Happy birthday, Kent. Eighteen years old. It was a surprise, to an extent – certainly they had both been wondering without saying aloud who they each thought would get it. Privately Jack thought both expected Kent.

“Es-tu paré,” Jack asked Kent the night before Dumping Day, when they would go out and lay their traps and coloured buoys with their new crewman, Norbert à Édouard à P’tit Joe Surette. They were sitting on the stern of the boat as it was an unseasonably warm night for November.

Are you ready.

“Pour n’importe-quoi,” Kent said, “pis pour toute.”

For anything and for everything.

Later he drank almost enough to mask the taste of Kent, and of salt, perpetual on their lips. A weapon, both.

He awoke blinded. He awoke alone. A month and a stay in the Yarmouth hospital later, with a lazy eye and a bottle in his bag, Jack stole his father’s keys and enough money for gas, three or four hot meals, at least two nights at a boarding house and a pair of work clothes and boots, and drove to Springhill in Cumberland County. There would always be money in coal.