#i only know it happened prior to July

[mllenugget]

Iconic.

(English translation in alt)

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[orcelito]

Actually we r at 6 months now without any major deaths in my life, which is great! That's the longest I've gone without any major deaths since last May! The second longest was 4 months between July and November last year. Wow !

[libraford]

(I have permission to share this.)

Text- from Walking Distance Brewing Company

Happy Pride month! We are here another year to celebrate Pride with you! Thank you for your love and support through a difficult year of slander and harassment. Your support has not just kept us afloat but has made us thrive! Our inclusive community isn’t here just for Pride - we’re here all year. It's not always easy being inclusive in town. The library, community organizations, and yes, even Walking Distance have been targets. In this post, we're going to discuss the attacks against the library and against us. Last June, the library had a pride book display [1]. On July 3rd, (now ex) city councilmember Deb Groat wrote an email to the library at the request of the Union Faith Family Coalition [2]. In this email, she wrote: “I am deeply offended by explicitly sexual material on display in the children’s section of our library. Shame on you and your staff for pandering to any social agenda in displaying reading material to children.” [3] Later on in the email she wrote: “The library may well want to pass a levy in the future, or have input in a community TIF.” [3] On November 27, 2023 - Deb Groat was joined by city councilmember Mark Reams in voting for a TIF that would divert money away from the library for 30 years. Luckily, the extension did not pass. [4] According to Union County Faith Family Coalition’s founder, Mark Reams is a member. [2] Deb Groat and Mark Reams vote together to divert money from the library. Let’s move on to us. In June 2023, we had a drag show. On July 8th, Mark Reams’ wife, Leslie Reams posted on Facebook calling Walking Distance “Little Epstein Island” [5] joining in the same rhetoric spread by the Union County Faith Family Coalition, who nicknamed us, “Walking Distance Grooming Co.” Additionally, on April 15th, 2024 - while on-shift at her job, Leslie Reams called us a “den of depravity bar [that] preys on children,” and called our bartenders and customers, “pedophiles” and “drunks.” Let’s be clear. Leslie Reams, the members of the Union County Faith Family Coalition, and their followers have never called law enforcement (to our knowledge) - something we would expect and want to happen if pedophilia was happening. Law enforcement has never been called, we suspect that even they know that it’s not true. We have heard many rumors, as bad as, “Walking Distance is full of pedophiles” to more innocuous rumors that hurt our reputation. Our guess is that the same people who don’t believe we’re pedophiles, but want to demonize queerness, also know their audience and are able to tone it back to do the damage they can. We saw sales dips directly following Leslie Reams’ statements. We have heard city council members echoing similar rumors. Last summer, we had around 10 citations against the owner’s house and the business from the city and council - none of these citations asked us to remedy anything (except for the one about mowing…oops), and in fact there were instances when the local officials said that we were doing everything right, but they are only reaching out to us because they had so many calls. The year prior, Walking Distance and the owner's house had 0 citations. We’ll never know exactly how much business we lost due to the slander against us. We do know, we lost a lot. Similarly, we’ll never know exactly how much the support of our community has meant. We do know, it meant a whole lot. The support has kept us afloat, and with time, it's made us thrive. We know that we have survived to see another June. And we are ready to celebrate it, in the face of the hate. There would be no pride with no hate. Looking forward to seeing you on Wednesday for drag BINGO; Saturday for drag brunch; and also visit us on Saturday during Marysville Pride. We have more Pride events this week and month, keep your eyes peeled! And even if it's not a pride related event, we are always inclusive. Oh, and there's a city council meeting next Monday, June 10th at 7PM.

[/text]

Here's some photos of the extremely offensive library display:

They haven't given a call to action yet.

So anyways, that's what's happening in a nearby town. Marysville's pride event is this weekend and if you'd like to show up for local queers its going to be a very fun time.

I'm thinking of grabbing some of my local gays and giving them our patronage, of course. Its somewhat unrealistic to ask strangers on the internet to do take a hike all the way to Ohio for drag bingo.

So I think I would just like to call attention to it- if this is happening in our area, its probably happening in yours too. If you were thinking of attending a drag show but were on the fence about it, I think you should. They're a fun time.

Being involved in the queer community can be as simple as attending a drag show. Or going to a silly queer-focused event. Or supporting a queer-owned business. Every little bit of support for your queer community counts!

[sailor-aviator]

We Abide: Chapter One

We Abide: Chapter One

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: It had started out as a small outbreak, but as weeks passed, it was clear there was no turning back. The disease spread quickly, and those who caught it and were unlucky enough to survive? Their minds were no longer their own, driven to hunting what was left of humanity. Your friend had gone West to help aid in recovery efforts before the world stopped, and now you found yourself trekking across the country to try and find her. You were fine on your own, only the company of your dog to help keep you sane, but your reputation catches up with you when a cocky man decides to tag along. (Apocalypse!AU)

Content Warning: Summer heat, allusions to PTSD, Graphic violence, Reader is attacked by a monster, Depictions of mortal wound, Graphic descriptions of blood, Death, Survival mode, Cursing, Crying, Flirting, Older father figure. I think that's it, but PLEASE let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 4.5k

Series Masterlist || Playlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Tyler Moodboard

Sweat dripped down your forehead, the summer sun beating down on your brow even between the dense foliage of the trees up above. You supposed it wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the damn humidity that seemed to grip your throat like a vice. You stopped in your tracks, the snapping of the twigs beneath your feet sounding amongst the forest noises. Cicadas screamed angrily all around you, the tweeting of birds filling the air as they swooped up above.

You slumped against a nearby tree, tilting your head back to try and feel some of the warm breeze that trickled by, offering little comfort from the heat. If you had to guess, it was probably around July about that time. You didn’t keep a close enough eye on the date as you traveled, and quite frankly, it didn’t worry you all that much.

You closed your eyes against the blinding sun, reaching blindly for the water bottle you kept tucked away in your backpack. You frowned at how light the canister felt in your hands, the sloshing of the liquid within causing you to sigh. You were running low again, and you couldn’t be sure as to the safety of the water in this area. Hopefully, you’d run across an abandoned house or survivor community soon. Judging by the map, you weren’t too far from Lake Beaver. You had seen the “Welcome to Arkansas” sign only a couple hours prior, so it would make sense that you were closing in on the large body of water at this point.

The thought of soaking in the cool, lake water nearly made you sigh in relief. You hated the heat—always had. Of course, you grew up in one of the hottest areas of the country, the AC often giving out in those early years until your father finally broke down and bought a new one. You’d sit in front of that window unit for hours, just enjoying the cold air until your mother harped at you for blocking the cool air from getting to the rest of the house.

Rustling to your left pulled you from your thoughts, your head jerking forward as your eyes snapped open. You reached back to pull the hatchet out from the confines of your pack, body tensing as you crouched into a ready position. It wasn’t often that you encountered a snapper during the daylight hours, but it had happened enough that you knew you couldn’t take the chance.

The sound of a twig snapped, and you braced yourself, drawing your arm back to strike when a figure bounded forward.

You let out a startled gasp, eyes wide as your brain processed what was happening. The dog was a large, mixed breed, shaggy red fur and facial features indicating it was mixed with golden retriever and something else that you couldn’t quite place. Big, brown eyes stared up at you as it trotted forward, tail wagging excitedly as it stopped to sniff at your feet.

You let the hatchet drop to your side, a scowl on your face as placed a hand on your hip.

“Dammit, Mars,” you groused, crouching down so that you were eye level with the mutt. His tail wagged faster at the mention of his name, stepping forward and relishing in the touch you were giving him as you scratched behind his ear.

“You nearly died just then, you know,” you admonished, but Mars paid you no mind, head jerking to the side as something caught his attention. Probably a squirrel.

“What were you up to, anyway?” You asked, standing straight as the dog trotted off with his nose to the ground. You watched after him for a moment, wondering how he managed to keep up so much energy amidst the miserable heat. With a shake of your head, you put your items away before pushing off of the tree trunk.

You’d heard mention of a survivor community around those parts, the folks up near the outskirts of Springfield and Branson assuring you that you’d find folks down this way who would aid you on your journey.

It had been a year and a half since you left New York, if you had to guess. You had trekked down along the eastern seaboard, stopping at the different communities you could find along the way. Most welcomed you in, offering you food and a place to stay, others wanted an exchange of some kind, and you found that you were surprisingly adept at hunting. Still, there was the occasional community that didn’t welcome you at all, rather chasing you out of the area and back onto the road.

The locals up in Missouri had assuaged your fears, however, assuring you that the folks of Beaver Lake would welcome you just as they had.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you whistled for Mars, the mutt perking up before bounding back towards you.

“Let’s hoof it,” you told him, readjusting the strap on your pack. “I want to get there before nightfall.”

You came upon the water maybe an hour later, the promise of cool relief nearly tempting you to stop and enjoy it. You eyed the horizon, the sun slowly inching downwards, and you let out a longing sigh as you forced yourself to continue. You stuck by the edge of the water, sure that the survivors would stick near the fresh body of water. You saw the splash of fish, making a mental note to try your hand at fishing before you left. If you caught enough, you could use them to barter for other goods or use them as a repayment for hospitality. The folks in Missouri had been kind, refusing to barter, but there was no telling what the people of Beaver Lake would want.

The sun sunk lower and lower past the trees, and a coolness began to creep into the air. You still had about an hour or two of light, if you had to guess, and you were hoping you’d come across the settlement sooner rather than later. You’d spent many nights out in the new wilderness by yourself, and while it wasn’t ideal, you knew you could hold your own against a snapper or two. But, there’d been once or twice when you’d caught sight of a large grouping of them, creeping along the ground as you sat in an abandoned home or up in the branches of a tree. They never bothered with Mars, much, the snap of his teeth enough to deter the wayward snapper if they did happen across his hiding spot.

The sound of a motor caught your attention, Mars’ ears perking alongside you. Your head snapped towards the water, watching as a small motorboat made its way towards the dock just a little ways ahead of you. You saw two figures on the boat, one steering and the other looking out over the edge towards where you stood.

As the boat drew closer, you began walking once more, albeit faster this time and with Mars hot on your tail.

The boat docked as you trotted up onto the wood of the platform, your steps echoing as you approached.

“Ain’t ever seen you ‘round these parts,” one of the men said as his companion tied the boat to a post. “Wasn’t sure if you was snapper or friend.”

“Friend, I hope,” you offered smoothly, earning a grunt from the same man. The other finished tying his knot, standing straight to look at you. Both men were older, perhaps somewhere in their late forties or early fifties with graying hair and weathered faces. The man who spoke to you had clear, blue eyes that assessed you with curiosity, the man next to him watched you with caution in his dark eyes.

The first man brought a hand up to scratch his bearded chin thoughtfully.

“You the one then?” He asked gruffly, eyes drifting down to watch Mars seated next to you. “The one my buddy up in Cassville radioed me about? What’s it they call you? The Wanderer?”

You held back a scowl at the mention of the moniker you had earned on your travels. No one traveled as far as you did, if they did at all. The only ones that moved outside of the communities these days were those running supplies to and fro.

“I’d rather you didn’t call me that, actually,” you told them, supplying them with your name instead. The man repeated it, mulling it over before nodding slowly.

“Alright then, little miss. I suppose you’ll be wanting a place to stay then, hm?” He asked. His friend stepped past him and onto the dock, grabbing a box that jangled with its contents before walking down the dock and towards a shack that lay past the water’s edge.

“It’d be nice,” you agreed, watching as he grabbed a box of his own to carry towards the shack. “I don’t have much to barter with at the moment, though.”

“Well, we can worry about all that later. How’s about you grab a box or two and help us unload? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can head back to LaRue and get you settled.”

You followed suit, grabbing a box that was much heavier than it looked and catching yourself before you stumbled back into the water. You fell into an easy rhythm between the blue-eyed man—Bill as you would later learn his name was—and Les.

About a half hour later, the boat was fully unloaded, and you sat on the back bench across from Bill as Les prepared the boat for departure. The sun sank lower towards the horizon now, level with the surrounding treeline. You bounced your leg in a nervous habit that you had never quite been able to shake, only stopping when you caught Bill watching you.

“You nervous?” He asked finally. In the short time you had known the two men, it was clear that Bill was the talker.

You shrugged, pressing your lips together and picking at the skin around your fingernails—another bad habit you had yet to break.

“Y’ain’t got nothin’ to be nervous about,” he assured you, leaning forward on his knee. “You’re somethin’ of a legend, you know. Folks around LaRue have been itchin’ to see if you’d make it this way. The young ones ‘specially’ll be all up and over you when we get there, I reckon.”

You always felt a little embarrassed whenever your newfound celebrity status was brought up to you. You didn’t consider yourself famous in the slightest, and quite frankly you were surprised there weren’t more people like you out and looking for their loved ones. You supposed, though, that making a trip cross country on foot was an asinine idea in this world—especially with the snappers posing a looming threat on all those caught unawares. You’d had a couple of close calls to be sure, a snapper sneaking up on you in the Appalachian mountains had come the closest to doing some permanent damage.

It had been snowing that day, and you’d cut it close with finding some kind of shelter. The sun had just disappeared below the horizon, and Mars had still been small enough to fit in your backpack. Your breaths came out in clouded puffs, your legs shaking with exertion when you stumbled upon the tiny cabin. A relieved sigh had left your lips, but you stopped when you saw a figure standing along the treeline past the dilapidated sanctuary.

The figure’s movements had been jerky, their body contorting oddly, and your adrenaline began to spike at the danger you found yourself suddenly in. Your eyes darted toward the cabin. All you had to do was make it the fifteen or so yards to the front door. If you could do that, you could lock yourself inside and barricade the entrance until morning. Slowly, you inched your way towards the door, careful to not make a sound that would alert the snapper to your presence. You had seen one once not too long before—its teeth digging into the flesh of a deer, human hands clawing at the skin of the dead animal as it tried desperately to satisfy the hunger it would never sate. The sight of the blood dripping down its pale skin would haunt you forever.

You remembered the zombie movies Kate used to drag you to. You had never been a fan, finding the creatures boring rather than scary. It wasn’t that the snappers looked like zombies because they didn’t, really. No, they still looked horrifyingly human—they were still human somewhere deep down. The disease attacked the nervous system, yes, but it also prevented the hosts from absorbing the necessary nutrients from food, causing them to look gaunt and weak. They were strong though, despite their appearance. The waif-like beings haunted your dreams, waking you from a dead sleep on more than one occasion. The howls and shrieks as they roamed the outdoors under the night sky sent a wave of fear up your spine no matter how often you heard them.

Slowly, you had crept along the clearing, eyes never drifting far from the snapper in front of you. Your ears remained alert as you listened for any sign of a companion. While snappers tended to move singularly, it wasn’t unheard of for them to travel in pairs or even packs on the rare occasion. You were about halfway to the door when Mars began to squirm in your pack, and your heart skipped a beat at the movement. Praying that he remained quiet enough for you to reach safety, you picked up your pace. You made it three feet before a twig snapped under your heel, a silent curse on your lips as the snapper’s head jerked up towards you. You could see it—her—more clearly now. Matted, brown hair framed her ghostly, white face, eyes glazed over in white stared back at you as her shoulders jerked violently. Your eyes darted around you, looking for something to defend yourself with should you need it. They landed on an abandoned hatchet next to a rotted out tree trunk before back up at her.

Just as you thought she would turn away, Mars let out a small bark from behind you, and your heart sank to your stomach. The snapper’s face contorted into blind rage, her teeth bared as she launched herself in your direction. You dove for the hatchet, gripping it in your fingers. You hadn’t anticipated her speed, having had just enough time to shrug off your pack, but as you stood straight once more, she was already on you, knocking you to the ground. You grunted as the air left your lungs, and you struggled violently against her, Mars barking in the background. The snapper snarled at you, foam dripping from her mouth as she snapped at you, her teeth clacking in an echo that sent ice through your veins. You held the hatchet between the two of you, the tool acting as a barrier as you scrambled to gain purchase. Your feet kicked against the ground and the snapper’s legs until finally you were able to plant them firmly into the cold ground beneath you. With all your strength, you pushed the snapper off of you and to the side, scrambling to your feet in the confusion.

She was on her feet a second later, long fingernails slashing at you as you dodged them. Your heart hammered in your chest, survival instincts driving you. You swung blindly at her with the hatchet, desperate cries coming from your lips as you fought for life. Her glazed eyes watched you tauntingly, saliva dripping down her chin and neck as she gnashed her teeth once more at you. Mars still barked and whined behind you, and you took a deep breath to try and ready yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut just as you swung the hatchet again, pleading with whatever god or gods were listening to you in that moment.

A sickening thwack sounded, the snapper’s screeching cutting short, and slowly you opened your eyes. To your shock and horror, the hatchet was buried halfway through the snapper’s neck—bright, red blood trickling out from around the blade. You stared in horror as the snapper clawed at her neck, desperate whimpers gurgling out of her mouth. You let go of the hatchet, stumbling back as the trickle of blood became a steady flow, staining the clothes she still wore as she stumbled towards you. She only made it a step or two before collapsing to the ground with a thud, her hands still clawing at the gaping hole before finally she stilled.

The clearing was silent, save for Mars’ quiet whimpering and the sound of your heart still thundering away in your chest. The snow continued to fall, careless of what had just transpired, and it wasn’t until a gust of wind whipped around you that you realized you were crying. The shock of the cold broke you from your spell, and after wiping your cheeks, you walked back over to your backpack. You checked Mars to make sure he was okay, earning a few licks to your cheek as you hoisted the pack back over your shoulders. You paused, contemplating before turning back around. Your hand gripped the handle of the hatchet, pulling until the blade let go of the snapper’s flesh with a sickening squelch.

LaRue was a small community, and by the looks of it, it had been even before the outbreak. Les stopped the boat at one of the docks in the marina, making quick work of tying it to one of the posts.

“Larue and Bland merged after everything went down,” Bill explained as he led you toward the street. “They used to be two different communities, you know. But folks came together to survive.”

Mars sniffed the ground as you walked, watching as people walked to and fro. Some caught sight of you, and before long, people were looking at you everywhere you went.

“Cathy’s place isn’t too far now,” Bill told you, waving as you passed a group of older people, there eyes trained on you curiously as they returned the gesture. “She’ll fix you up and get you settled, don’t you worry.”

You were beginning to feel anxious from all of the attention, eyes darting around as you began picking at your fingers once more. You saw a group of what looked like teenagers whispering to each other, their fingers pointing at you as they chattered excitedly. You stiffened slightly, increasing your pace so that you stood side by side with Bill. He led you a little further down the street before veering right towards an old, brick building. A sign that read “Cathy’s Place” hung above the door, and a bell rang as he pushed the door in. The room was spacious, hardwood floors spanning all the way to the back as different tables took up space and a couple of booths lined the walls. A bar was arranged in the middle, several men and women gathered around it, conversation lulling as the two of you stepped in. Mars stuck close to you, ears perking at the different sounds around him.

You followed Bill towards the back, ever mindful of the watchful eyes that followed you, and you were sure you looked worse for wear. You had showered in Branson, but the long day of trekking had left you sweaty and caked in dirt.

Bill plopped himself down at a table, leaning back in his chair with a tired groan as his joints popped. You slowly sat down across from him, careful to take in your surroundings without making eye contact with anyone there. You weren’t sure how long you’d be staying, but you didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

You turned to see an older woman with graying, blonde hair stroll up to your table. Her jeans were worn, and a green apron was wrapped around her waist. She smirked down at the man across from you, hands on her hips as she took him in, eyes glancing at you for one curious moment.

“Heya, Cathy,” Bill greeted, hands resting on the top of the wooden table.

“Heya, Cathy,” she mocked with a cluck of her tongue. “Cutting it a little close to nightfall today, aintcha?”

“S’pose,” Bill agreed with a nod, a twinkle shining in his eyes. “Les and I had a lot to move around today.”

Cathy hummed disapprovingly before glancing at you once more. “Gonna introduce me to your friend here?”

“Cathy,” he grinned, gesturing across the table at you. “This here is the wanderer.”

All conversation stopped at the mention of your moniker, and you bristled at the sudden lack of noise. A couple of seconds passed before the whispers started, and you shot a scowl at Bill.

“I’d rather you called me by my name,” you groused, giving it to the hostess. She nodded.

“Heard a lot about you,” she said. “Heard you’re headed west.”

“I am,” you confirmed. Before Cathy could continue her questioning, your stomach let out a loud growl, your hunger suddenly catching up with you.

“How’s some chicken fried steak sound, sugar?” The older woman asked. “An old family recipe.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had beef,” you muttered, your mouth watering at the thought. Cathy let out a chuckle at your unwilling eagerness.

“Lucky for you, we just traded for some the other day,” she smiled. “I’ll get you some water and something for your little friend here while I’m at it.”

She grinned down at Mars who wagged his tail excitedly at the sudden attention.

“I’ll pay you back,” you promised her, resting a hand on Mars’ head. Cathy opened her mouth to respond, but stopped as the chair between you and Bill was pulled out with a scrape against the floor.

“You can put it on my tab, Cathy.”

You turned to see a tall, blond man sit down in the seat, a wide grin on his face as he looked at you. He was handsome, some scruff littering his jaw and green eyes twinkling in delight.

Cathy rolled her eyes, but turned to walk back towards the kitchen. Your cheeks warmed at the attention from the man next to you, and Bill cleared his throat.

“Tyler,” he greeted, though it sounded more like a warning than a friendly acknowledgment.

“Evenin’, Bill,” Tyler nodded, his eyes never leaving you. “Knew you’d bring back something interestin’ one day.”

You stared at him, keeping your features schooled as you met his gaze. Tyler continued to study you in silence, the corners of his lips twitching into a wider smirk as if he liked what he saw. The two of you never broke eye contact, even as Cathy came back with water for your table, dipping down to lay a dish on the floor for Mars. The dog lapped up the water happily, tail wagging all the while.

You arched a brow in challenge to the newcomer, daring him to say something else. He only smiled at you, leaning back in his chair with a tap to the tabletop.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” muttered Bill, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you let us eat in peace, kid?”

Tyler’s eyes finally left you, looking over at the grumpy, older man.

“It’s not everyday we get a celebrity in these parts, Bill,” he drawled. “Especially not one with an interesting story, wouldn’t you say?”

Bill scowled at the blond, tearing his eyes away as Cathy came back with three plates, once more setting them down in front of you, Bill, and Mars.

“Mars, sit,” you commanded, and the dog obeyed, wolfing down the chicken Cathy brought out for him.

“‘S a good-looking dog you got there,” Tyler commented, nodding over towards Mars.

“Thanks,” you said, cutting into your own food. You nearly moaned at the taste. It wasn’t often you got a cooked meal, even rarer that you got them on back-to-back nights.

“They not feed you up in Branson?” Bill teased in a chuckle.

“They did,” you assured him. “Just been a while since I had a good country fried steak.”

“You staying long?” Tyler asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. You offered him a shrug, unsure of how to answer. It would be better if you left sooner rather than later.

“Not sure yet,” you amended. “Haven’t made much progress in the last week or so. I’ll need to take stock of my supplies.”

“Suppose you’ll need more bullets for the road,” he agreed with a nod. You scrunched your nose up and shook your head.

“Guns are too noisy,” you told him, your exhaustion making you chattier than usual. “They attract snappers more than deter them. No, I keep a hatchet with me. It’s lightweight, but it gets the job done. Can use it for more too.”

Tyler let out a quiet laugh, a grin plastered on his face as he sat back once more.

“A hatchet,” he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, look at you.”

“I hate to rush y’all,” Cathy said, walking over with her hands in her pockets, “but the sun is setting any minute, and you know they don’t keep those lights on for long. I’ll need to get closing up here in a second.”

Bill nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, alright. You wanna get her a box, and we’ll get it sorted out where she’s stayin’ tonight?”

“She can always stay with me,” she hollered as she moved back to grab you a box for your half eaten steak.

“Y’ain’t got no room, woman!” Bill guffawed, patting his stomach. “You got four kids and all o’ their kids livin’ under your roof. Where’s she gonna sleep? The roof?”

Cathy scowled at him as she handed you the box.

“Well, she ain’t gonna stay in that shack you try to pass off as a house,” she snapped.

“She can stay with me.”

All three of your heads snapped to look at Tyler, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Ain’t no way-” Bill began, but Tyler cut him off.

“Everybody else has already booked it back home,” he pointed out with a serious look, and for the first time you noticed that it was just the four of you in the room. How had you missed that?

“Besides,” he continued, his smirk crawling back into place. “I’ve got the room and I don’t live that far from here. You can come and check on her first thing in the morning.”

The room was silent, and you allowed yourself to glance between everyone. Cathy pursed her lips, but didn’t refute him. Bill didn’t look happy about it, but he finally sighed.

“Yeah, alright,” he groused. “But, honey? He tries anythin’ funny, and you got my permission to chop a couple of those fingers off, you hear?”

A/N: Lowkey? This might be one of my most favorite things I've ever written. I'm having so much fun exploring this world and flexing my writing skills. I hope you guys are enjoying it so far! Let me know!!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to receive updates on when I post, please follow my sideblog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[herejusttosufferalong]

RIPPED FROM DISCORD - NO CHANGE

I don't think Nic and Luke have talked, seriously, since JF in NYC. I think there may have been a few check ins but nothing of note.

I think she was caught off guard by papgate and was PISSED, not just about the pics and the fallout, but about Luke's total lack of accountability in the situation.

He nor his team did much of anything while he was facing an obscene amount of backlash from the fan base.

They simply ignored the elephant in the room.

We first saw Nic's irritation with the passive aggressive post four days after the release and then ending with the SATC TT.

We know she helped his ass out with the Brazil pic to post after the JF interview. I think she said goodbye there.

She did more to help him than he was willing to do for himself or anyone else.

Things calmed down with Paris but then the games picked right back up in LA, it's the only way children know how to entertain themselves.

Nic was silently watching all of this while hanging out with JD.

July was a MESS all around because not only do you have the GQ event and Italy but then you have DM so far up Nic's ass she is covered in shit.

Luke and Nic never seemed further apart.

Biggest evidence for this was the July 16 post, a post marking their 5 year journey and Mr. bare minimum comes through with "Wowwww 🙏🏻"

She never liked the comment btw, can't blame her though.

Papgate 2.0 happens, sus AF.

A week or so later we get shade post about the paps from Nic disguised as a BDAY post for CW. I

It is between that post on Aug 10 and the Col/Pen post on Aug 22 where I believe Nic and Luke started talking again. What all was said, who fucking knows but must not have been good enough. Because we get the PAL post, clearly friendzoning Luke with an even more damning grid caption, "I thought I already shared this but I hadn't so here you go now it's all yours!"

There is a lot to unpack from that. This is clearly a photo taken 18 months prior and she had no relevant reason to post it. I think she was going through and clearing shit out. It's the "...here ya go now it's all yours!" that struck me odd. I know some have speculated that she was just referring to the photo. I believe she was referring to the man.

And I think she was talking to her number one fan. Who up until that point had been pretty quiet outside of her Aug 18th post, "Uncanny Valley of the Dolls."

Whatever Luke and Nic talked about, I think she gave him some things to think about. That coupled with the fact that something is/has been afoot with JD so she may not have been in a place of full availability for Luke, he decided to return to the mess he made.

I think the festival pics and the fact that Jake tagged along to Malta might be causing Luke to really start to think.

It ain't a great look when a 24 yr old man comes in, looking like he has his shit more together than you.

[haveyouseenthismovie-poll]

Hello, all!

As you may know, the request inbox has been closed for several months now due to the massive amount of submissions I received at the start of this blog. The good news is that all of the submissions have officially been queued! This means that the askbox can finally be opened again, which will happen sometime before July 4th. I will make a post announcing when it's open again, though please be aware that there will be changes to the submission rules. Additionally, it will likely not be open for as long as it was previously to avoid having such a long queue of requests again.

This also means that this blog can go back to posting movies from "top 250 movies" lists as it was doing prior to the temporary switch to requests-only posting. Starting in July, the first poll of the day (posted at 12PM EST) will be a movie taken from Letterboxd's Official Top 250 Narrative Feature Films list (as we have already completed the IMDB top 250 list.) The other four daily polls will be requested films.

Hopefully this sounds good to everyone! I'm excited to start receiving requests again and I hope you're all excited to start submitting again in July.

[vidavalor]

Perfectly Splendid

"Perfectly splendid" is a Mary Poppins allusion from another story that, thematically, is an interesting one for Good Omens to be referencing in The Final 15. That story, plus the ton of other Mary Poppins references in the last two episodes of S2 and how that could help us figure out what's going on, beneath the cut.

The phrase "perfectly splendid" is an allusion to Mary Poppins that comes from Mike Flanagan's The Haunting of Bly Manor. It's a modern-set Gothic horror story that features a nanny arriving to care for two, Jane-and-Michael-Banks-esque kids at an English manor house. Flora, the little girl in the story, is obsessed with her mysterious former nanny. We see quickly in the series that Flora has taken to using her former nanny's catchphrase and so calls everything she likes "perfectly splendid" repeatedly throughout the story, in a way that is both cute and eerie as all fuck, depending on the scene.

The "perfectly splendid" is a take on Mary Poppins' "practically perfect" and the homages to Mary Poppins in The Haunting of Bly Manor are overt, if not quite as much as Scary Poppins is in Good Omens. (It would be hard to top that!) Flora saying "perfectly splendid" is the main quote to come out of the series and a reference in Good Omens to this signature bit of The Haunting of Bly Manor is then also a roundabout reference in Good Omens to Mary Poppins.

The Haunting of Bly Manor is a horror story about possession.

Ya know, that thing that Satan did to Crowley in 1.01...

...and, I would wager, in the bits below of 2.06:

When the character Derek Jacobi is playing first arrives, all five angels fail to identify this being as The Metatron... and all while the only demon in the room-- Crowley-- is very still in the chair and suspiciously (forcibly?) silent until spoken to by the being.

The angels not being familiars of The Devil is, I think, the simplest explanation for why none of them can recognize a face that should be very familiar to them. Upon this person being identified as The Metatron, Michael, Uriel and Saraqael are then so terrified of ticking him off that they fail to recognize that he told them all to go back to Heaven using language from the wrong Julie Andrews movie.

If this is The Metatron below, then why is he saying "spit spot" (and alongside "not another word" as a bonus, as she says that, too)? These are Mary Poppins signature phrases and Mary Poppins is Hell's answer to Heaven and The Sound of Music in Good Omens.

I'm actually pretty sure Crowley & Aziraphale had a hand in writing both, which is why neither Hell nor Heaven seem to actually understand their signature stories but, for now, we know which one is supposed to go with which group and any sign of Mary Poppins is a sign of Hell, ever since the Warlock era... which parallels the last two episodes of S2, with The Meeting Ball disaster as a version of Warlock's birthday party. This time around, the party leads to the influence and not the other way around.

In S1, it's Crowley as Scary Poppins at the door to influence Warlock with Aziraphale there to counter him as the gardener... mirrored in S2 with Aziraphale as the Warlock, Crowley the Gardener as one influencing voice and the other being Satan-appearing-as-The-Metatron arriving at the door in the midst of a Poppinspalooza.

But there's still a lot more Mary Poppins than just the above:

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...

Most of the Mary Poppins references actually started the prior night with the arrival of the demons, when Crowley paused in the street in mid-conversation as the demons arrived on Whickber Street and spoke aloud about how he felt a change happening a la Bert in the opening scene of Mary Poppins.

Wind's in the East/Mist comin' in

Like something is brewin'/About to begin...

Then, there's Crowley asking Mrs. Sandwich (who is wearing a plume very much like Bert's favorite lady in that opening scene of Mary Poppins) if she "has her hat pin", which is a reference to the suffragette movement, so cast off the shackles of yesterday! shoulder to shoulder into the fray!...

Mary Poppins' "Sister Suffragette" scene is also an example of one of its many scenes in which the humor is built around two characters who aren't at all hearing one another, which is very similar to Aziraphale and Crowley having issues with that to some extent during The Meeting Ball and then being in full-on, Baby-Swap-Plot-level, miscommunication Hell in That Scene in The Final 15. A lot of those Mary Poppins scenes, including "Sister Suffragette", involve action around a door-- like damn near every scene in Good Omens-- as that is symbolic of communication and whose voice is being listened to at any given time.

Or how everyone was then link your elbows/step in time-ing it the fuck out of the shop...

They're at the gate/step in time... It's The Master/step in time...

That was all after things got a bit supercalifragilisticexpialidocious...

So when the cat has got your tongue, Mrs. Sandwich, there's no need to dismay! Just summon up that word and then you've got a lot to say...

Beez's Fly + Hell claiming Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets =

But the best/worst is near the very end:

Though her words are simple and few

Listen, listen/She's calling to you...

Feed the birds/That's what she cries

While overhead/Her birds fill the skies...

So, yeah...

Up/Where the smoke is all billowed and curled, Aziraphale...

...between pavement and stars

is the chimney sweep world...

When there's hardly no day/Nor hardly no night

There's things off in shadow

And off way in white...

We're owed some serious "Let's Go Fly a Kite" come S3. 🦆☂️😊

[burr-ell]

Ppl are so fucking weird about narrative meta and it's solely bc it doesn't cater to ships. The ship isn't the center of the narrative and therefore when we talk abt the story in broad strokes they take any neutral writing observation and treat it like bitter screeing and crazy hate even though frankly speaking I don't think pointing out patterns is emotionally charged

So this ask is almost a year old and I am VERY sorry to the anon who sent it, but it's also interesting to me to consider how things have changed in that time. I got this a couple weeks after Imogen/Laudna became canon and I had been subject to some stan harassment because I disliked it, and after a bit of conversation about the whole thing I just shrugged and moved on. And yet for a not-insignificant portion of the ship's fandom, it feels as though everything that has happened between Imogen and Laudna since then has been just...quietly ignored. (I distinctly recall one of the hateful anons I received lecturing me about how "Im*dna is the heart of the campaign", and uh...how you doin these days, bud?)

Like, I've very recently blocked the majority of loud stan voices on Twitter, but it's telling to me that so many people proclaim to be these deranged fanatics about the ship and yet hardly acknowledge anything that's happened. And it could be that it's because prior to episode 89 nothing interesting had happened, but they still had moments; they had that dance on the pirate ship and the lap pillow and the comforting after the shard incident. But you'd hardly even know those moments happened—everyone's pfp is still a screenshot of Laura from episode 65, the bios all still read #IMOGENTEMULT: "can i kiss you?", and all the fanart is generic hugs or kisses and the occasional buff cowboy Imogen with damsel Laudna. So many emoji combinations include the ring when it's been referenced more often out of game than in it!

And meanwhile, the people who were vocally critical of the ship—many of whom, I think it bears observing, are queer women, women of color, neurodivergent women, or some combination thereof—have been having the time of our lives ever since 3x89 and especially 3x95. We've been asking for conflict the whole time and finally got it and surprise! We're enjoying ourselves! I think you'd be hard-pressed to find someone in this corner who's turned into a classic OTP-type shipper, but we're engaging with this narrative and are interested in where it goes because it finally gave us something to do. We're also focused on everything else in the campaign, because it has an intriguing plot, an engaging villain, fun worldbuilding, and five other interesting protagonists.

If you got into the campaign because you wanted to watch a good story, you may have had trouble in the beginning, but if you stuck it out you're probably having a good time vibing with the moon. But if you got into this campaign because you thought the most important thing in the world was making sure Imogen and Laudna end up in their skinnyass white girl cottage baking cookies and shopping for Zhudanna and exchanging the uwu softest of kisses and handholds? You'd probably like very much for the campaign to have ended in July 2023. But it hasn't, and I think the campaign rather forcefully demonstrating once again that it is out of the audience's control is a disquieting thought in those circles. And if you're the type of person who felt Imogen and Laudna's constant fawning and inability to have uncomfortable conversations was not only romantic but aspirational, you're not likely to want to sit with disquieting thoughts.

[kalkaros-is-the-boss]

So I made recently a post on my main (hannaxjo) about the ages of the marauders era characters in the movies, which led to me creating this side account. But I should’ve known better than to think about their canon ages in the books, because I noticed something that doesn’t make sense to me, and I can’t stop thinking about it. That is the timeline between Severus hearing the prophecy and Voldemort killing James and Lily. What the fuck happened between that?

So, in the prophecy is this line: the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. Meaning, that at that time, Harry has not been born yet. Which means, at the very least over a year is going to play out before that Halloween.

And that does not make sense to me. How can it take over a year, after this? In that (unspecific) time, the following things happen; Voldemort decides that the prophecy is talking about the Potter’s baby. Severus deflects, and begins spying on Voldemort. Due to Severus’ warning, Potter’s go into hiding. Dumbledore suggests a fidelius charm. Instead of Sirius, Peter is made into the secret keeper. Peter reveals the location to Voldemort and Voldemort kills Lily and James.

These things happen like a domino. There cannot be that much time between each of these actions. Severus isn’t going to wait around to defect once he knows Voldemort is targeting the Potter, because Voldemort is definitely not going to wait around to kill them. And I don’t think it took over a year for Voldemort to decide who the prophecy was talking about. Isn’t he supposed to be smart? Like I can buy him only deciding after Harry’d been born, but it still takes over a year after that for him to kill James and Lily.

But okay, let's say Voldemort was just really slow, and couldn’t make his mind. That would make the time between Severus’ deflection and the death of Lily and James incredibly short, and that makes no sense either. Because I don’t see Dumbledore trusting Severus after such a short while. And when would he then have had the time to spy on Voldemort? In the Goblet of Fire, when Harry goes into the pencieve he sees the trial of Karkaroff. And he lists the names of Death Eaters, one of those names being Severus Snape. Dumbledore then says, that he himself has witnessed for Severus’, and he tells that Snape joined them prior to Voldemorts downfall and that he risked his life spying on him. That means that Severus had to be a spy for at least a while.

So what the hell was happening while Severus was spying? Did they not use the fidelius as fast as possible? How did Voldemort not find them? See it would make sense if Sirius was the secret keeper for a while, and then they switched it, but Sirius was never the secret keeper. So did Peter actually keep the secret for months? Because that also seems unlikely. Then, there’s the letter Lily wrote to Sirius that Harry finds in Deathly Hallows. In that letter Lily mentions that ‘James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here’, so they must be already hiding. And they must be already under the fidelius because they must be in Godric’s Hollow because why else would Bathilda have visited. She also mentions that Wormy had seemed down, which I assumed was actually because he is going to/has betrayed them. That letter was about Harry’s one-year birthday! It was written in July/beginning of August. Voldemort didn’t attack until Halloween. What happened? Did Peter not betray them until October? Or had he already told Voldemort and Voldy just wasn’t feeling it. Was he waiting until Halloween for aesthetics?

Honestly, I have no point here, except that I don’t understand the timeline. Did I miss something? If you know how this timeline goes, please tell me, because I think about this too much. Istg if I’m gonna end up re-reading the books again just because this bothers me...

[bosbas]

Chapter 10: writing letters addressed to the fire

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.8k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, pining, like a lot of pining, anthony being controversial

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: they're so in their evermore era i can't

July 7, 1814 - The expectations were as high as the chandeliers at the Bridgerton Ball two nights prior. And the night did not disappoint. Our forgone diamond of the season made an appearance at the social event. A fact that is expected given the close relationship between the Beaumonts and Bridgertons, but a pleasant surprise given her recent absence from social happenings. While previously the center of attention, Miss Beaumont danced only once at the Bridgerton Ball with one Mr. Alexander Beaumont. Yes, dear reader, her brother. This leaves us with the lingering question: why did Miss Beaumont choose her brother over the allure of a potential match? It seems that Miss Beaumont is simply tired of the ton's social scene, or perhaps she has lost some of her shine now that her best friend has left for the countryside. 

He cleared his throat, rubbing his thumb on his lower lip. Finally meeting your eyes, he said, "Well, I was wondering if you'd want to marry me."

You choked, completely taken aback. "Are you alright, Anthony?" you asked, nervously laughing. "Was the whiskey too strong for you after all?"

He pinched his nose, annoyed at your flippant response, but couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Be quiet! I'm trying to help you!" he said, laughing.

You were in hysterics now, too. "Help me?! Help me how, pray tell," you managed to get out between giggles.

"You are impossible! How Benedict deals with you so regularly, I have no idea!" he shot back, poking you in the arm as he said each word.

You gasped in mock offense. "Low blow, Anthony, even for you," you said, shaking your head at him, unable to keep from laughing. "Surely you're joking. Why should I let you marry me?"

"Let me marry– Bloody hell, Y/N, and excuse my language, but really, I am coming from a good place here, and you are making it so difficult," he responded, clearly exasperated by your inability to take him seriously.

You ceased laughing and looked at him directly, cocking your head and widening your eyes when you realized he was being sincere. "Anthony? Surely you're joking, right? Does Alex know? He'll kill you if he finds out you proposed to his little sister."

He sighed deeply, shifting in his seat. "Look, I am not joking. But let me explain first, and then you can ask me questions."

You could do little but stare at him, lips parted in confusion. "Go on, then," you said finally, very interested in hearing an explanation for this incredibly unexpected proposal.

Anthony looked over to where Alex was sitting, deep in conversation with your father, and then looked back to you. He turned in his seat so he was fully facing you, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on his knee, contemplating how best to explain himself without sounding insane. "I know it sounds like a crazy idea. Trust me, I can barely imagine it myself. But I do think it might be a good one," he said finally, hoping to get some kind of response from you, only to be met with a blank stare. You were still entirely unconvinced of his proposal, barely believing that he was being serious. 

"Listen, what you said two nights ago is not something I take lightly, given that you mean so much to us, to me and Benedict and our family. And I can see that you're having a rough go of it. The roughest go of it, actually," he continued.

"And you think marrying me will solve my problems because...?" you cut in, not quite following Anthony's logic.

"Well, I've been trying to explain my thought process for the past five minutes, but you're making it awfully hard, Y/N," he shot back, raising his eyebrows at you, amused. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly in response but sat back so you could let him continue.

"This might make more sense if I explain my side of things a bit more, actually," he decided, mentally rearranging what he was going to say to you. "Alex and Simon already know this, but my intention has never been to marry for love. Above all, I view marriage as a duty to my family. Since my father passed, I have been the one responsible for them, and they are the dearest thing in the world to me, as you well know."

At the mention of Edmund, you reached out and placed a hand on Anthony's, remembering how difficult it was for the family when his father passed. He shot you a grateful smile, covering your hand with his and clearing his throat before he continued speaking.

"I will be perfectly candid with you, Y/N, because you deserve nothing less. I was planning on looking for a wife next season, but even so, I believe that pursuing love is an unpleasant and unimportant endeavor, at least for me."

You gasped, slightly taken aback at his cynical views, though yours weren't much sunnier. "Don't you want to fall in love, Anthony? Don't you think you'll find a partnership like the one your parents had?" you prodded, overwhelmed by a sense of sadness. But you also felt somewhat understood, knowing now that Anthony had an unconventional view of marriage.

He gave you a knowing look, saying only, "Don't you?"

Knowing he had a point, you let up. "Fair enough, I suppose," you answered. Is that how you sounded when you spoke of getting married? You were completely disillusioned with the notion, but you had given it more than a few honest tries, while Anthony was set on never looking for a love match. It was quite ironic, seeing how much your parents loved each other and the love between Daphne and Simon, that you and Anthony had developed such depressing views on marriage. You saw Anthony nod in your direction, seemingly happy with your answer.

After a slight pause, Anthony winced, knowing he was about to share much more than he usually would. However, he knew that this would potentially benefit you both, so he fought through the discomfort. "Seeing my mother fall apart after Father died was awful to watch, and I would never want to cause someone that pain. My goal is not to find passion but to secure my family's future. And I was hoping to find someone who would want this different sort of partnership," he said, looking at you pointedly. You had already started connecting the dots in your head and thought you were catching on to where this was going now.

"So you want to have an unconventional marriage together, then?" you asked, hoping you had understood correctly.

He patted your hand, relieved you finally understood what he intended the proposal to sound like rather than the abrupt and blunt question he had asked earlier. "Yes, precisely. Of course, I want you to take as much time as you need to consider this decision since it is quite important. I doubt we would seek an expedited marriage license, but obviously, we can sort out the minutiae later if you decide to do this. There is no pressure one way or another, I simply wanted to give you an option you had probably not considered before," he said, searching your face for any reaction.

However, you remained guarded, still unsure about your feelings. Saying yes to this proposal would definitively mean saying no to Benedict. But Benedict had not even asked you anything, you argued internally. There was nothing to say no to. In fact, he had been the one to say no to you. But you didn't know if you were ready to give up all hope yet. Perhaps you were a fool, but then again, you always were when it came to your best friend.

If you accepted Anthony's proposal, would the now-permanent ache in your chest worsen at the knowledge that you could never have Benedict? Or would you feel better, getting closure Benedict would never give you?

You felt a surge of anger shoot up your spine. Why couldn't Benedict be the one asking you this? After twenty years, why was he the one who left you alone and confused while Anthony was left to pick up the broken pieces of you Ben left behind so carelessly? Even setting aside the added issue of your unrequited feelings for Benedict, Anthony was being a much better friend than him right now. But your anger dissipated quickly, dissolving into desperate sadness. You missed Ben so much; the short letters he had been sending were unsuccessful in placating the ever-growing need to feel his presence beside you. The overwhelming sense that something about you was missing was almost too much to handle, and you felt yourself going around in circles in your head about what you wanted to do.

You knew it could never be the same with Benedict regardless, so you reasoned that you would at least consider Anthony's proposal. You owed it to yourself to consider someone other than Benedict and something other than perpetual singledom without any children to raise or read to.

Realizing Anthony was patiently waiting for you to say something in response, you spoke up. "In theory, this doesn't sound like a terrible partnership," you started, laughing when Anthony snorted and muttered a short "Why, thank you."

"Shush! I'm trying to consider your proposal, and you're making it quite difficult to spend longer than twenty minutes with you, let alone the rest of my life," you joked, stomach dropping slightly when you mentioned the concept of forever. Pushing through your fear, you kept speaking, "I know you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I know you would not do something like this without a plan. So tell me your plan, and I will consider it and give you my answer once I have one."

Anthony couldn't help but laugh at your scolding tone, "You're not wrong." However, he knew he had to be careful about how he presented his reasoning for this proposal. It was no secret that he thought his brother a complete buffoon for refusing to marry you. Anyone could see that your best friend was madly in love with you, and Anthony was beyond confused as to why Benedict was being obtuse and frankly stupid when you so clearly loved him just as much.

It was hard to miss the alarmingly fond looks the two of you exchanged, not to mention what must be dozens of sketches of you in Benedict's studio, try as he might to make it look like there weren't that many. But what really made it the most obvious was Benedict's manner of speaking about you. It was beautiful to hear when Ben forgot himself and spent nearly an hour discussing a fascinating observation you had made about one of his paintings. Or when he saw Eloise reading a book you had read and launched into a speech about your genius way of interpreting a particular passage. Or even when Anthony inquired about any of the paintings of you in his studio and his brother began a lengthy explanation of how he wanted to paint your eyes in a way that captured your thoughtful yet soft gaze, in Ben's words. Benedict's unwavering and wholehearted admiration of you rivaled that of his parents. It seemed to Anthony that you were the sun, and Benedict was happy to be in your orbit if only to relish in the warmth and comfort you brought him. And the same could be said for you.

So, choosing his words carefully, Anthony avoided saying anything that would upset you, knowing you were still raw from Benedict's sudden departure a few weeks ago. "To start, a legal union between our families would only strengthen our bond, and I know we both would still like to remain close with our families after we are married."

Gauging a positive reaction from your raised eyebrows and slight nod, he continued. "Perhaps the most obvious advantage is that we would have the marriage we both want. I would, of course, encourage you to continue pursuing your studies after we were married, and though I would like to have children, and I know you do as well, I am in no particular rush if you don't feel ready yet," he continued.

To be fair, Anthony made a compelling argument. Although your ideal marriage was still the one you had imagined with Benedict as a child, Anthony was realistically the best option for you, especially with the men of the ton being as dreadful as they were and Ben off in the countryside for who knows how long.

"I don't want to feel suffocated by my husband, Anthony," you warned, earning a laugh from him.

"I know you think I'm insane, but I promise I don't want to be a suffocating husband. We want a lot of the same things, just for different reasons," he responded, ready to answer any and all rebuttals you had. Anthony knew this would be a difficult decision, and he had come prepared with the utmost patience to ensure he got rid of all of your doubts to the best of his abilities. Having watched you grow up and grown up alongside you, he had a deep fondness for you, often feeling as protective over you as he did over Eloise or Daphne. Anthony cared about you and wanted the best for you, no matter what that might entail. And if he could find a wife a season earlier than he had expected while you got what you deserved, that was just an added bonus.

In the back of his mind, Anthony hoped that if you accepted his proposal, Benedict might come to his senses before the engagement progressed too far. But he would be a fool to count on his brother to do so, based on how Ben had acted so far. Anthony knew it would be cruel to tell you this and raise your spirits only to be disappointed again. If it came to it, Anthony would be happy to marry you. It was a very practical union, and Anthony quite liked practical things.

"It makes sense, in a way, I suppose. We do want similar things," you muttered to yourself. "And you'd let me read as much as I wanted?" you asked, needing reassurance.

"I promise," answered Anthony, smiling sweetly at you. "Besides, we are already very acquainted with one another, having grown up together, and I'm sure it'd be good fun to be married. Well, at least I think so. And you know me well enough to be able to make that decision for yourself."

You nodded thoughtfully, mulling over all of the possible caveats you could think of to bring up to Anthony. If you were going to go through with this, you needed to be absolutely sure that it was what you wanted. Although it was getting difficult to find negatives about this possible union. It seemed that you would have much more agency with Anthony than if you were married to anyone else, bar Benedict, or as a spinster.

"What about Alex?" you settled on asking. "Have you talked about this with him?"

Both of you subconsciously turned to look at your older brother and then at each other. Anthony gave a slight shake of his head. "No, not yet. But I have a feeling he'll understand and even be supportive. Especially after the other night. And especially now that Benedict left."

You furrowed your brow, confused. What did Anthony mean, especially now that Benedict left? You were about to ask for clarification when Anthony cut in.

"Anyway, don't worry about Alex. I will talk to him and your father, and I know they will be on board with whatever you choose. So all you have to do is decide if this is something you want to do or not," he said quickly, trying to make up for the fact that he had revealed too much before. Anthony knew Alex had similar feelings to Anthony, perhaps even more pent-up anger at Benedict than he did since Benedict was hurting Alex's little sister. But he hadn't meant to tell you so directly. Anthony mentally kicked himself for rubbing salt on your metaphorical wound. Although it seemed that you had let go of his comment, for now, he noted as he watched you rubbing your temples, deep in thought.

You sighed deeply, coming to the realization that this could be it. This decision could change your life forever, and perhaps Benedict's life, depending on how he handled the news. If you accepted the proposal, of course. You couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt, knowing that you could never feel for Anthony the same way you felt about Benedict.

"And you'd be alright with me not being in love with you? I don't think I can do that again. After Benedict," you said softly, still wanting to avoid thinking about losing him as much as possible.

"Yes, I would prefer it, actually," said Anthony, smiling at you. But his playful demeanor was wrapped in a careful tenderness. He understood you better than most people, having learned to see you, above all, through Benedict's eyes. He knew you were terrified. Of being married and not being married, of losing yourself and of staying exactly the same as you were now.

He was terrified, too, to be honest. He knew Benedict would be impossibly angry with him, even though he really had no reason to be, and feared their relationship could be fractured. Not to mention that Anthony had been dreading marriage ever since that fateful day his father fell ill from a bee sting, leaving his mother alone in the empty shell of their loving partnership. He supposed the two of you did sort of make sense in a peculiar way.

"Alright, go away, please," you shooed Anthony away. "I have to actually think about it now. But no matter what happens, I want you to know I'm grateful for your offer. I know it's coming from a very generous place, and it really does mean the world," you added, squeezing his hand as he stood up.

"Of course, Y/N. I'm not Benedict, but you're very important to me nonetheless. Take as much time as you need," he responded, returning your squeeze and making his way over to Colin and Theo, giving you space to mull over your decision.

That was precisely the situation, you thought. Anthony wasn't Benedict. And you had to decide whether or not that was good enough for you. It was a very compelling offer, and you knew it might be your only chance to have anything close to the sort of life you had hoped to have before Henri and the rest of the men of the ton so pointedly crushed your dreams. Benedict was the only reason not to marry Anthony, and he had been quite clear in saying that he wouldn't marry you. But you wanted to enjoy a few more days of imagining that Ben could be yours in some capacity before you had to move on from him forever.

---

Shoving a pile of unsent letters aside, Benedict set a fresh sheet of paper down and started yet another letter he was unlikely to send to you. Now that he had ceased going to parties and bringing home a different woman every night, he found himself with ample bouts of time that he dedicated almost exclusively to thinking about you.

With each new letter you sent, Benedict found himself lost in your words, re-reading them constantly and clinging to any fragment of you that he could still claim as his. In response, he wrote pages and pages of prose he would never send. These ranged from letters he could plausibly send to you, responding to every comment you had made about the book you had read that day. Others were less tame. Sometimes, he found himself unable to keep his overflowing feelings inside of him any longer, choosing instead to write heart-wrenching confessions of a love so deep and all-consuming that it permeated every fiber of his being. But Anthony's words reverberated in his head, warning him not to lead you on, every time he contemplated addressing these letters.

But Benedict loved you. The real, soul-crushing sort of love that only came once in a lifetime. The kind of love that grew from years of being by your side, knowing every detail of you, and still wanting to know more. He was far past the point of denying it and had now stumbled on an agonizing feeling of wanting. He wanted you by his side while he painted, quietly discussing the colors or the shading he was working on. He wanted to put his head in your lap as you sat in the garden, feeling your fingers running softly through his hair. He wanted to look over at night and find your sleeping form beside him, less than an arm's length away as he fell asleep holding you. Most of all, he wanted to be content in the knowledge that he could hold your hand, breathe in your scent, and twist your hair in his fingers as he kissed you every single day for the rest of his life. 

The moment in your garden by the rose bushes from the day before he left, where he came so close to kissing you, haunted his every waking moment. He couldn't seem to forget the way your lips parted, moving ever so slightly closer to his. The feeling of your soft breath against his skin, luring him in. He had been so close to just giving in and touching your expectant lips with his. It was all he had dreamed about doing ever since he had come back from Oxford and felt you in his arms, realizing that he never wanted to spend another day apart from you. He still wondered what would have happened if he had just done it. If he had just leaned over a few inches to join your lips and brushed his thumb on your cheek as he grabbed your waist. But he hadn't. Instead he had fled to the countryside, where he was missing you more than ever and ridden with jealousy at the thought of you with another man. 

Benedict didn't know if the ache of longing would ever fade. All he knew was that you were a permanent mark left on him he would never be able to wash off even if he wanted to. A part of him would always be you. The proof of that was on his desk cluttered with letters that would never find their way to you and in his studio housing nearly a dozen unfinished portraits of you.

Clutching to a sliver of hope, he held onto the fact that no news of your engagement had reached him. Yet, each day brought with it a tormenting dread as he approached his unopened letters, torn between the desperate hope for a letter from you and the paralyzing fear that he would receive an invitation to your wedding. But for now, he could still pretend you were his, at least partially.

—

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[thegeneticopera]

after seeing many misconceptions on the ages of the characters and also the general lack of knowledge on relevant key events, I thought I'd create a timeline!

A comprehensive breakdown of important dates in Repo! The Genetic Opera:

1993: Rotti Largo was born (July 14th)

2006: On April 5th, the first ever death for NOS (Neuro-Overstimulation Syndrome) was recorded. GeneCo was then founded later that month in Milan, Italy by Giuseppe Largo and Dr. Michael Whatley who eventually discovered a treatment using an experimental drug called Zydrate and genetic manipulation.

2011: Marni was born (No date)

2016: Nathan was born (No date)

2017: Blind Mag was born (July 5th)

2019: Luigi Largo was born (November 20th)

2024: Pavi Largo was born (September 29th)

2025: By this point, The Genetic Opera, an interactive TV show, was sponsored by GeneCo to promote designer organs and keep the public "status-conscious" in order to continue boosting profits.

2032: Carmela Largo/Amber Sweet was born (August 23rd)

2035: Graverobber was born (No date)

2036: Marni brings Mag to meet Rotti Largo

2039: Shilo Wallace was born (August 27th), Marni Wallace dies, Nathan becomes a repo man

2040: Mag's eye transplants (March 21st)

2048: Blind Mag's Corpus Crusade tour

2053: Tao of Mag, a charity concert event held for blindness

2056: Rotti signs his last will and testament, declaring Shilo as the sole heir of his estate (August 7th). The events of the film take place on November 7th - Nathan, Rotti, and Mag die. Shilo presumably goes missing. Amber takes over GeneCo at a later unspecified date.

Some common misconceptions cleared up by the timeline:

Mag did not receive her eyes at 19, the date listed on her repossession chart says otherwise

Marni and Mag have a relatively large age gap. At the time in which Marni brought Mag to meet Rotti, she was already 25, and Mag was only 19. I personally like to think that Marni was a singing mentor of some sort (since in Chase the Morning we see that Mag has a memory of Marni singing), and perhaps worked with disabled people and this is how they met!

The age difference between Shilo and Graves is only 4 years!

Mag and Luigi only have a two year age difference. Her being under GeneCo's thumb since she was 19 and Luigi was 17 is probably why they have a relationship.

On that topic, Nathan is only 3 years older than Luigi, there's no way him or Mag could have "baby sat" the Largos as children if they're all approximately the same age (excluding Amber, but considering Nathan had his own daughter to raise and was a repoman and Mag was a world class opera singer I still doubt that would be the case)

This one doesn't have a specific date, but I felt it should be added regardless: Pavi's face disfigurement seemingly happened very recent to events of Repo! We see several times within the film that there are posters and billboards of him with his original face, even in the pictures Rotti has he didn't have the scarring yet. The posters say that GeneCo offering face replacements will be happening in 2057. Pavi was the one in charge of that, and he was stealing faces prior to his scarring (as seen in the pictures). We also know from several sources, including Luigi himself, that Pavi's face happened because of a botched surgery. It's safe to assume this was because of the new face replacement campaign that was being offered, and it was within the last year or two before the events in the film.

[anyasathenaeum]

Can I request a first time smut with Vash please???? big bonus points if you can make it reunion sex hehehehe im a huge sucker for that kinda stuff. thank you so much!!

A/N: The way I'm immediately putting this with Eriks!Vash (I wanna smash him so bad he just makes me wanna *insert horny grip meme here*) I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Anyways, feel free to think of this as a follow-up to this fic. Anon who requested that fic - guess you're getting that spice after all!

Warnings: MINORS DNI, AFAB!reader (female terms used), smut, lots of smut, hints of Vash having a size kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks, practice safe sex!)

The only thing you could register, other than the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, was just how warm Vash's skin was against your own.

You'd been separated from Vash for two years, since the destruction of the city of July, and you'd only just found him in a quaint little town, disguised as a man named Eriks. His hair had grown longer, and he had scruff on his face and now wore glasses, but deep down, he was still your Vash.

Your reunion had been filled with tears of sadness, regret, happiness, love and disbelief, with you both clutching onto one another as you both cried and rejoiced at being reunited. And now, as the house where Vash had been living became silent as people drifted to sleep, the two of you had fallen into one another, pressed up against each other, clutching at each other with a desperate need to be comforted and assured that this was real.

Clothes had quickly but gently been shed, leaving you bare before Vash for the first time. You could feel the heat rising in your face as you stood there, your body exposed to Vash in a way you'd never done before.

You and Vash knew that you had feelings for one another, and despite being in a relationship prior to the events in July, this was the first time you and Vash had ever gotten so... intimate.

Now, Vash was looking at you with wide, blue eyes, filled with an awe and a love so tender that it would have others believing you had hung the stars in the sky.

"(Y/N)... G-God..."

Vash's voice was low and rumbly as he pressed you up against him, his body trembling slightly at the feeling of you against him.

You felt a shiver go down your spine as Vash's large hand pressed against your bare lower back, pulling you into him as his lips ghosted over the sensitive skin on your neck, his scruff scratching against you slightly.

"You're so beautiful."

Vash's warm breath fanned over your skin, sending another shiver down your spine, your fingers digging into his arms slightly as you tried to suppress a quiet moan.

You could feel Vash's muscled and scarred body moving against yours, and before you could process it, Vash had lifted you up, his hands tucked under your thighs as he carried you to the bed, gently placing you down so that he sat against the headboard with you in his lap.

"V-Vash," You got out breathlessly, looking up at him as you sat in his lap, straddling him a bit. Was this really happening?

You could feel the silky warmth of Vash's cock brushing up against your folds, a shiver coursing up you as your eyes widened - he was big. You had known that from the moment you saw his cock; long, and surprisingly thick with a beautiful reddish-pink head, veins visible along the sides.

However, now, as you felt Vash brushing up against you, you realized you didn't understand just how big.

"I-I don't know if I can... take you," You mumbled in embarrassment, your cheeks flaming pink as you felt Vash's cock twitch against your pussy - did he find that idea attractive?

"Oh, (Y/N)," Vash whispered gently in return, his large hands rubbing your thighs tenderly as he spoke, "I'll prepare you. Don't worry, love. I plan to make sure you're ready before we go any further."

Sure enough, with that, Vash pressed his lips to your neck, gently sucking and kissing your skin with just enough pressure to leave little marks - signs of his love for you. You stifled your moans, but the moment one of Vash's prosthetic fingers found your clit, you let out a choked gasp.

Vash just smirked a bit at your reaction, "Bingo."

With that, he gently pressed his lips to yours as he continued to circle your clit, drawing more muffled moans and cries of pleasure from you against his lips. You bucked your hips desperately in his lap, seeking more friction as you felt your orgasm beginning to build deep in your abdomen, your heart racing as Vash's fingers continued their nimble work.

"God, (Y/N), you look so beautiful like this," Vash all by growled out, his eyes filled with desire and love as he gazed at you coming undone by his touch, "I-I've missed you so much."

"I-ah! M-Missed you, Vash," You replied between gasps and moans, your orgasm nearing with every second Vash had his hands on you, "L-Love you... love you s'much."

"I love you, too, (Y/N). I've thought of nothing but you," Vash panted back between kisses to your skin, relishing the taste of you as he felt you tense in his arms, his lips ghosting over your chest and neck, "Nothing but you these last two years."

His passionately words of love for you, plus the feeling of Vash circling your bud perfectly, had you cumming harder than ever before, a cry of Vash's name leaving your lips as you came undone, the pleasure washing over you in wave after wave after wave.

"That's it, (Y/N), God, you're so beautiful when you cum for me," Vash mumbled gently, kissing your lips softly as he held you close.

You were panting softly in his embrace, your head resting on his shoulder as Vash hugged you to him, letting the aftershocks of your pleasure run through you.

"W-Want you, Vash," You panted out, gently grinding yourself on Vash's cock - you could feel the precum leaking out of its head, likely from just the sight of you cumming in his embrace, "Want you so bad."

You heard Vash hiss softly as you pressed your pussy down against his cock, his whole body tensing and his hands clutching onto your hips so hard he probably bruised you.

"(Y-Y/N)! G-God, Mayfly, pl-please, be careful! S-Sensitive!"

You couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh as you looked at Vash's face - those beautiful, blue eyes, wide and filled with pleasure and awe, the beads of sweat on his brow, his expressive eyebrows, his pretty nose and lips, his long, blonde hair, everything - he looked different than the last time you saw him, but God... he was still gorgeous.

"So... beautiful..." You whispered gently, your hand coming up to cup Vash's cheek as you pressed the softest and most tender of kisses to his jawline, the scruff rubbing your skin as you did so.

"Make love to me, Vash."

You surprised yourself with your own words, and you could see Vash's eyebrows rising in surprise, but the smile on his face spoke of his desire as he nodded, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek delicately. You watched the most beautiful blush spread across Vash's cheeks and the tips of ears and his nose, those baby blues focusing on you with a gaze filled with love, tenderness and desire as his hand returned to your hip.

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Vash's hands lifted you by your hips, letting you reach down to align his cock with your soaking wet pussy, teasing him gently by swiping it through your folds a few times first. The gasps and whines Vash let out were worth it, his voice rising in pitch and volume at the sensation of his cock brushing up against your slick.

"(Y-Y/N)!"

You couldn't help but smile softly, letting the head of Vash's cock push into you slightly as you sunk down onto him, causing you both to moan out in sync at the feeling of Vash stretching you out at last. The stretching feeling burned slightly, but within moments, the discomfort was giving way to pleasure.

"I-I love you, Vash," You gasped out, clutching onto him so hard you're sure your nails broke his skin, leaving marks, "I love you. Don't ever go... somewhere I can't follow you."

"N-Never, (Y/N), never!" Vash replied, whining at the feeling of you clenching just around his tip, desperately fighting the urge to slam you down onto him in one move, "I love you. N-Never wanna be apart from you again. It almost killed me..."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, each nerve feeling like a livewire as Vash touched you and pushed into you gently as he shifted you, his words making your heart pound frantically in your chest.

Looking up at you tenderly, Vash whispered, "You ready?".

All you could do was nod, not trusting your voice to work at the moment. In one consistent but slow movement, Vash sank you down into his lap, pushing into your pussy inch by inch until he was in to the hilt, gasping as he felt you clench around him.

You hissed at the sting of him stretching you out, but it was outshone by the pure pleasure and happiness you felt as being joined with Vash this way at last. Finally... the two of you could share in this intimacy.

"Big... y-you're... big, Vash," You whimpered out, bringing your mouth down to his shoulder and biting down a bit, causing Vash to shiver.

"Sorry, (Y/N)," Vash cooed back softly, his hand brushing through your hair gently, "But you took me so well, Mayfly. So well..."

You whined in response to his praise, your pussy tightening around Vash and causing his breath to hitch.

"God... I can feel every bit of you. So tight, Mayfly. Try to relax..."

You did as Vash said, taking a deep breath and trying to relax yourself, letting yourself rest in Vash's lap. You wanted nothing more than to stay this way, holding onto Vash, feeling him against you, in you, for the rest of time.

"I-I'm gonna move now, (Y/N). Is that okay?"

"Yes, Vash," You whispered breathlessly, feeling so unbelievably full, "Please. Move."

Vash's smile was so bright, hearing you say that, and as gently as possible, he lifted your hips, sliding out of you almost entirely before pulling you back down into his lap and thrusting back into you, drawing out a moan from your lips as pleasure shot through you.

You shifted slightly, moving your own hips in time with Vash's guiding hands, allowing Vash to thrust deeper and deeper into you, both of you gasping, moaning and whining at the friction between you. Soon, that same feeling from before began to build again in the pit of your abdomen, a feeling of pleasure getting you close and closer to the edge.

"Nngh! (Y/N), G-God, you feel amazing... you're incredible, M-Mayfly..."

Vash's moans of pleasure had you clenching on him, a small gasp escaping the both of you as you continued to roll your hips, Vash holding you close in his lap as he thrusted up into you in time with your movements. You could feel his large hands splayed across your back, holding you close to him in a protective, almost desperate manner, your own hands clutching onto Vash's shoulders for leverage.

You two were close, so impossibly close.

"V-Vash, I- I'm gonna cum, I-"

"M-Me too, (Y/N), m-me too!"

With a few thrusts, you finally felt your orgasm wash over you, pleasurable wave after wave crashing into you, causing your pussy to clench down on Vash's cock in a way unlike anything he'd ever felt before. With a final thrust, Vash spent himself inside you, a warmth blooming in your abdomen as Vash pressed his lips to yours passionately, holding you close to him as he painted your walls with his seed.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Vash gasped out against your lips, holding you close to him as his chest heaved. You could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he spoke, his voice quiet but so, so loving, clearly moved by the intensity and the intimacy of the moment.

"I love you, too, Vash," You replied, pressing your forehead against his and just hugging him close, relishing in the feeling of his warmth against you, your own eyes burning with tears.

All the emotions coursing through you were overwhelming, but you couldn't help but feel love, happiness, and relief. Vash was here with you, and you were here with him, and there was no doubt that the two of you would never be separated again.

"So... can we do that again?"

You sighed at Vash's question, a small smile appearing on your lips. You might've just awakened a whole different beast.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

chapter thirty-one | bad idea, right?

the battle of the labyrinth

percy jackson x fem reader

“Talk. Just talk. I know you can do it,” you said quietly. You grit your teeth together, lips pressed so firmly they almost hurt, smiling with irritance. You leaned in close to the hippie mummy chilling in the attic, trying not to pay too much attention to the musty smell up this close. “Look, we don’t want any surprises this year. Just tell me what I’ve got coming my way and I’ll leave you alone.”

The Oracle was motionless, sitting stiffly, as if you hadn’t breathed down her neck for the last thirty minutes interrogating.

You moved back, gesturing to her. The sheer disbelief you felt was unmatched. “I don’t believe this. I don’t believe you. So, what, you just tell me shit I don’t want to hear when I don’t need it but when I steal over a thousand dollars, what? Nothing?”

Not even a twitch.

You scoffed, and dropped the old tea towel on the floor. You had found it in a cupboard, when rifling through them this morning in search of a good weapon. You didn’t have the energy to go make a sword in the armory, and maybe a relic from the past could give you some luck. Some heroes had done well on their quests once upon a time and had to have left something behind, right? Upon a lack of weapon-finding, you eyed the figure at your shoulder, and had a thought.

A half hour later, you were just angrier than you started.

You turned back to the oracle, pointing your finger firmly in her direction. “You’re a joke. I hope you know that. I could get more information from a rock.“

Huffing, you set off down the narrow staircase and all the way back down to the main room. Chiron and Mr. D were doing some sort of nattering over a game at the small table when you came strolling through, hoping to avoid conversation.

Because, jeez, you’d just turned fifteen. You barely wanted to talk to anyone these days. Your cabin counselor had explained to you—in the midst of an emotional outburst—that it was just hormones. You angrily told her she could shove her hormones up her ass.

“Find anything useful?” Chiron spoke briefly.

“I could make a rock bleed before that thing told me anything. Why is nothing going my way?!”

And for goodness sake, was the sun extra burny today or were you just burning for the fun of it? It felt like your skin was peeling off, and the urge to dunk yourself in the lake grew more appealing by the second. Percy’s birthday was only days away, yours having passed exactly a month prior to his, on July 27th.

Your shorts chafed, making that irritating sound and the sweat under your arms that your shirt absorbed made the want to scream grow by the millisecond. Feeling your sock sliding down in your shoe was the last straw.

Out on the porch, Travis ripped up pieces of grass and littered them. At your appearance, he went to swing his arm around your shoulders.

“Don’t touch me!”

And, god love him, Travis didn’t.

He just laughed. “Calm down! You look—”

You turned to him with a tight jaw. Over the past months, Travis had reached a height you couldn’t believe, nearing 5’11. He let his hair grow out into a curly mass of soft chocolate.

He swallowed back what is what he was just about to say.

“I’m sweating,” you seethed. “It’s too hot. And my sock—is—falling,” you ripped your shoe off, yanking your sock up, “down.”

Sweaty shoe in hand, you turned and stormed off. Halfway down the hill, the other shoe came off, and the feel of them tapping against your thigh, held by the laces, was going to send you over the edge.

Travis blinked. His hands, freckled and golden, hovered unsurely.

“Hey—wait for me!” He called.

Briefly, his footsteps grew louder until the boy walked at your side—or, rather, paced. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?” Since your outburst after the quest in the winter, Travis had made it clear that he was there if you wanted to talk, and had on multiple occasions coaxed you into talking the problems out. It was like your current anger didn’t matter to him, or how easily upset you were lately. Your stomach had been killing for days, today worst of all. You knew what was on its way. On and off for years you’d gotten used to growing in all the ways all girls unfortunately had to. You just wished everything would stop and slow down.

“We have archery this afternoon,” Travis tried cautiously. You hummed. “If that’s something you’re up for.”

“I’m up for throwing myself into the lake,” you retorted. As you grew closer to it, it looked even more appealing.

“Right. Yeah. If that’ll make you feel better—”

“Travis, just, stop!” Your hands flew around so violently you almost hit yourself with your shoes. Travis’s concern made your heart swell, but the extra attention made you feel uneasy. “Please just—I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Okay? I’m just hot and sweaty and oh my god I smell of sweat and I’m starving and—”

Yeah. It was time for a detour.

“I’m going back to the cabin.”

Long story short, by dinner time, you’d calmed down somewhat. A cold shower, a frustrated cry, and a laugh with Annabeth about frying pans, and everything was right again.

Being a girl was exhausting.

The next week, you were heading into Manhattan to check out a new school, with Percy.

“Bro,” Percy called down from the fire escape. You grinned up at him. “Mom wants to know if you want stuffed crust or normal.”

“Is both an option?”

“You read my mind.”

The Jackson apartment in Manhattan sat in a relatively peaceful street. The occasional car horn, a few loud talkers on the street below. Sally Jackson braided your hair. Percy ate a slice of your pizza. And you nearly wrestled one another down the staircase the next morning, but you made it to the car in one place, backpacks at the ready for a new year.

A better year.

Just a trial day, at Paul Blofis’s school. If it went well, and you wanted to go back to traditional schooling, Sally had made it clear you were more than welcome to go with them. To stay with them.

“You’re always welcome here,” she placed a hot chocolate down in front of you, the night before. Her eyes were soft. I understand, they said. I’ve felt it, too.

For once, you could breathe. A smile, a relieved nod. “I know.”

Months from that moment, you’ll sit at a polished dining table, lighting Finney’s birthday candles. There will be ice cream and sunshine, and an innate nervousness that disappears. Rachel will hold his other hand, and Percy Jackson, freshly sixteen, will smile at you, and everything will be right in the world.

But now—

Sally Jackson tapped her fingers on the wheel. She wore a pretty blue dress (which you’d helped her pick out) and heels, ready for a job interview.

Percy, in the passenger seat, looked a little troubled. You watched his dark brows knit together. “You haven’t told Paul about me, have you?”

Sally paused. “I thought we should wait until after orientation.”

“So we don’t scare him off.”

“It’ll be fine, Percy.” She reached across for his cheek, affectionately patting him. Percy rolled his eyes. “It’s just orientation. And after that, the two of you are going for ice cream, right?”

“Too damn right.”

Percy’s cheeks flamed pink. You grinned wickedly, relishing in his discomfort.

Sally smiled, looking at you in the rear view mirror for a second. “And then tomorrow, you’ll be back in camp.”

It wasn’t as if Percy despised camp, but it was obvious he much preferred to be home. The last week at their house, you’d felt that way, too. Sally Jackson had created a warm, comforting environment for her son, and in welcoming you to their mix, had treated you just like she would a daughter, not just her son’s friend.

Fifteen—a funny age for all.

You’d witnessed Percy’s growth, too. His hair had only grown messier, and thicker (Sally had to beg him for a hair cut). His voice had deepened a little more, and he’d grown about six inches (you measured before you left camp). Almost unfairly, his eyelashes even seemed to get longer, and his eyes remained the prettiest shade of blue-green you ever did see.

Sally stopped just outside the school, red-bricked and tall, facing the morning sun. Already, at this hour, it buzzed with life.

Percy got out of the car.

You got out of the car.

Sally drove away.

And you made eye contact with something that made your skin crawl.

Your shoulders sagged. “Already?!”

“You saw it too?”

“Yup.”

Percy heaved a great sigh. “Fantastic.”

“Come on,” you grabbed his arm. “Let’s just go and have a good day while we can.”

Your friend side-eyed you curiously. “You’re…strangely optimistic this morning.”

Yeah. Because the worst part of the month was finally over.

You smiled cheerfully, practically skipping up the steps. “That’s because it’s sunny and it’s good and it’s going to be a good day.”

Your friend gave a solid salute, earning himself a smack on the arm and a smile. Shaking off the bad feeling, up the steps you went. Percy abruptly stopped and pulled on your arm, a terrified look on his face.

“Oh, come on, now—”

“How about we find a side entrance?” He flailed, cheeks flaming bright strawberry. You frowned.

“Percy, what?”

Wrist in his hand, Percy’s strong grip pulled you along, round the side of the building and through an open door, where two cheerleaders were waiting, in purple and white uniforms.

“Hi!” They blinded with their bright smiles simultaneously. Percy gawped like a fish. You elbowed him in the ribs. The one on the left, tall, pretty, African American with curly hair, the one on the right, also tall, pretty, with the blonde ponytail. You scanned them quickly over with your eyes, feeling uneasy still, but tried to pass it off as first day jitters.

“Welcome to Goode High School,” the blonde said. “You’re going to love it.”

Ooooooh. Alarm bells began to ring.

It could have been her attitude. It might have been their intimidating demeanour. But most of all, it was the smell of washed horses. The smell of the camp stables. Unless these girls had come fresh from a riding lesson in Manhattan (which you highly doubted—you’d already tried to get one) they should not have smelled as such.

“What are your names, de—freshmen?” The curly-haired girl stepped so close you thought she was going to push you down the stairs.

“Uh, I’m Percy.”

The blonde giggled. It sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, Percy Jackson, have we been waiting for you!”

Yeah. Time to go.

“Code red,” you hissed, turning and looking around shortly to make it discreet. “Code red!”

Percy didn’t move. They turned on you.

“You look familiar!” The blonde girl smiled. “I think I’ve met your mother.”

Laughing awkwardly, you shot a finger gun anxiously her way. “See... No. You definitely haven’t. But anyway, we should be going now, right, Percy?”

You watched his hand pull out his sword in pen-form from the pocket of his jeans, stepping back slightly from the cheerleaders. It was at this moment, Paul Blofis made an appearance, saving the day.

“Hey, guys!” He smiled, bounding up the steps behind you. In his teacher’s shirt and pants, tie done smartly, he was the epitome of welcoming. That kind smile, those warm, shining eyes, said it all. Percy was a lucky guy to have a man like Paul around, even if he’d been seeing Sally for only a few months. “Good to see you’re both here! Why don’t you go on in and we’ll figure out where to go first?”

In his rush to move past the cheerleaders (you’d taken the slow-breaths-and-calm-movement approach), Percy pushed past the blonde cheerleader. Her paper name tag, so loosely stuck on her shirt, floated to the ground: Tammi. Percy’s knee struck her calf, and—

CLANG. The sound of pure metal.

All you wanted was a simple life.

“Ow,” she murmured. “Watch it, fish.”

You murmured an Australian-sounding ‘ah, shi—’ when Paul Blofis popped up beside you. He clapped his hands together, kind eyes going from you to your friend.

“Welcome to Goode! Everything alright, guys? Percy, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Before said boy could stutter his way into trouble, you raised a hand and gently slapped his cheek, playfully. Paul grinned.

“He’s just nervous,” you explained. Paul ‘ah’d, and clapped Percy on the back.

“I get that, but don’t worry. We get a lot of kids here with ADHD and dyslexia. The teachers know how to help.”

Percy nodded his head, shaking his too-long hair.

“So, where to first?” Asked Paul.

“Could we check out the literature stuff? I kind of wanna go there. What do you think?”

Percy’s red face had reappeared.

You shook your head, pulled a face. “Dude, what’s going on?”

“Where’s the fun stuff? Like, the gym?” He rambled quickly.

Following his line of sight, standing down the hall by the main doors, was a skinny, wild-haired girl.

You gasped like you’d never done so before, so loud it scratched your throat. But the shock was very real. You felt your jaw drop.

Rachel. Elizabeth. Dare.

Percy yanked on your wrist so firmly the gasp cut off violently, yanking you down the hall in a run.

“The day just gets worse!” You exclaimed. “First, monsters. And now her!”

“Just—forget she’s here!”

“Forget about it?! She’ll be looking for us, no doubt!”

During your excursions last season, you’d ran into Rachel Elizabeth Dare purely by coincidence, a mortal with the Sight. Instantly you hated her and her over-exaggerated passion for the arts. And, more importantly, you hated her obvious crush on Percy. It wasn’t one-sided, however—she’d made it pretty obvious that she hated you, too. So it was equal. And you didn’t feel bad.

Barrelling into the gym, you pulled Percy to a stop.

“All I want,” you breathed, “is a normal life. That means one without Rachel Dare or monsters at every corner.”

Percy blew his fringe away from his eyes. “You and me both,” he panted.

Banners hung on every breezeblock wall of the gym, and little groups of teens clumped here and there. A marching band stopped playing abruptly. A hand fell to your shoulder; on the defence, you shoved yourself away quickly. The girl’s hand fell.

“What are you doing here?” She stropped.

“What does it look like, Ronald—”

“Hey!” Percy cut in, smiling with his teeth clenched. “Rachel Elizabeth Dare!”

Her jaw dropped, green eyes moving from you to Percy and back again. “You’re Percy…somebody. I didn’t get your full name last year when you, oh, you know, tried to kill me.”

“The only attempt on your life was those jeans—”

“Ohhh-kay,” Percy pushed you aside. “What are you doing here, Rachel?”

She took a breath, gestured to the hall. “Same as you, I guess. Orientation.”

“You live here? In New York?”

She pulled a face. “You thought I lived at the Dam?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

Percy practically tweaked on the spot. He slowly turned his head and made a sudden move of bugging his eyes to you, a gesture to say shut up, man.

Amidst the talking, you hadn’t noticed the groups of people get together to stand with the three of you near the bleachers. Somebody behind you hissed a ‘shh’.

So you did it right back.

“The cheerleaders are talking!” He defended. “Shut up!”

“Oh, big whoop!”

“Dude, for once, I’m begging you, now is not the time.”

“Tell that to Ronald McDonald.”

“Hi, guys!” A bubbly cheer came from the front centre hall. The blonde cheerleader, Tammi, smiled a pearly white flash. “I’m Tammi, and this is, like, Kelli.” In a flurry of perfect timing, Kelli did a one-handed cartwheel.

You weren’t jealous, or anything.

Behind you, Rachel yelped. You wondered just weirder this girl could get.

Until she suddenly said, “Run.”

And you figured now was as good a time as any to follow her direction, when Tammi looked you dead in the eye.

“Why?” Percy called, dumbly.

“Y’know, just this once I’m gonna follow Ronald.”

Rachel pushed her way to the front with Percy and yourself following close behind. Tammi and Kelli were halfway through explaining how the school was going to form small groups and tour different parts of the building.

In a music room down the quiet hall, devoid of any other students, you found Rachel crouching behind a giant drum set.

“Hey, this is nice—!”

Rachel yanked on your shirt sleeve and hissed, “Idiot! Get down! Did they see you?”

You eyed her hand on your sleeve. “This is Wet Seal—”

“I don’t think so,” Percy gasped for breath like a fish out of water. “What are they? Did you see?”

For the first time, you settled down and listened to what Rachel had to say. Her eyes were bright with caution—afraid to say out loud what might sound crazy to the wrong people. But you and Percy were the right people.

“You…wouldn’t believe me.”

“Believe us, there’s nothing we haven’t seen. You can see through the Mist.”

“The what?”

“Mist. It’s like a veil between our world and the normal. Except for those among us like us, the veil blends out. You can see through it.”

Something like recognition flashed through Rachel’s eyes. “At Hoover Dam,” she breathed slowly. “You called me a mortal. Like…you’re not. You see through the Mist. You saw through the Mist. Tell me. You know what it means! Tell me why I see all these horrible things.”

Empathy did not come alongside your viewings of Rachel Elizabeth Dare. This time, for the first and only time, you accepted it.

“You’re not crazy. You don’t need meds. You’re definitely not schizophrenic. D’you know anything about the Greek myths?”

“Like the Minotaur? And the Sirens?”

Percy nodded. The screech of a shoe on polished floor came from a way down the hall. “Yeah. Just try not to say those names when we’re around.”

“And the Furies, and the Hydra—!”

Percy hushed her amusedly. “Yeah, yeah! Okay. All those monsters, the Greek gods, they’re real.”

“I knew it!” She shrieked. “You don’t know how hard it’s been!”

“Try us.”

“For years I thought I was going crazy, I couldn’t tell anyone. They’d send me to some wilderness school somewhere.”

You couldn’t help the embarrassed giggle. “Yeah. You were right there. That place ain’t it.”

“Wait.” She frowned suddenly. “Who are you two? I mean really.”

“Not monsters.”

“Well I know that. I could see if you were. You look normal. But you’re not human exactly, are you. Either of you.”

Percy slung a heavy arm around your shoulder, raising his hand to pat your face. “We’re half-bloods. Half human, half god.”

Just then, Tammi and Kelli shoved the music room door open, and strutted in like they were walking for Victoria’s Secret. Your head spun to them.

Tammi gushed. “Oh, wow! There you guys are! You’re missing your orientation!”

“Purposefully,” you smiled. “Take a hint, Tammi.”

Rachel had whitened and gasped. “They’re horrible.”

“Oh, forget her.” Tammi waved. Kelli blocked the doors, while Tammi sauntered over.

“Percy…” Rachel warned.

“Uhhhhhh—”

Come on brain, think of something! Anything useful, mom!

It was right in front of your face: the drum cymbal. The metal, circular thing with a cellotaped sticker across its bronze surface.

“Guys!”

You reached behind you for Percy’s jacket and dug your hand around in there, trying to get a hold of his sword in pen form. It didn’t take long, and upon uncapping it, it instantly transformed into Riptide. Percy didn’t object. And his sword fit perfect in your hands.

“This is our school,” Tammi giggled disgustingly. she neared so close you had the tip of Riptide at the hallow between her collarbones. An instant passing. “We feed on who we choose.”

Her true image flickered.

“A vampire!” Rachel gasped.

Percy hummed, rising to stand behind you. “With…furry legs?”

“Don’t mention the legs!” Tammi snapped sensitively. “It’s very rude!”

She advanced on her furry legs. It would have been funny, did she lack the scarlet eyes and fangs so sharply pointed.

Kelli laughed from the doorway. “A vampire, you say? Silly demigods. That legend was based on us. We are empousai, the servants of Hecate.”

Out of nowhere, Rachel flung her arm back and launched a drumstick at Kelli, hitting her in the eye. She practically growled in anger and turned on Rachel instantly.

“We don’t usually kill girls,” she ground out. “But for you, I’ll make an exception! Your eyesight is a little too good!” Kelli clicked her fingers, and Tammi pounced.

Girl code applied here. Riptide to the rescue. You shifted forward and raised Riptide above your head, swinging the sharp sword down across Tammi’s head. Her eyes flashed and her mouth snarled and the set of pincer-sharp teeth came your way. Before her teeth met your skin, she burst into gold shimmer and shiny flecks. She exploded all over you and Rachel. You wrinkled your nose while Rachel coughed and gagged, the both of you covered in monster dust.

Kelli shrieked furiously, like Regina George. “You killed my trainee! You need a lesson in school spirit, half-blood!”

“You’re a shit teacher,” you shrugged. “What can I say?”

Kelli began to change. And by change, you meant absolutely turn inside out, the other way around, back to front. Not. Right. Her hair turned to flickering, orange flames, the heat prominent on your face. Her eyes turned scarlet and her teeth grew sharp like Tammi’s did. She loped forward. You shifted back into Percy, and held his sword out to the side, shifting Rachel back too from her shocked stance.

“I am a senior empousa,” she laughed spitefully. “No hero has bested me in over a thousand years.”

You swallowed hard. “Huh. Then I guess you’re long overdue.”

Kelli pounced at you, and Rachel screamed. Percy yelled some profanity behind you; there was a loud crash of a drum bass and a terrible tearing sound. You wrestled with Kelli for a solid few seconds, well aware that you still had a grip on Percy’s weapon. The worst part of being a half-blood—having no choice in fighting monsters like Kelli. It’s annoying, having no choice. It makes you angry. And not just at yourself, but the gods, who with their power, could probably just eradicate the whole of Kelli’s species in the flick of a wrist.

Kelli fawned. “Aw,” she cooed. “That’s such a cute little blade! I think you should give it back to its owner.”

The Mist is strong here. It had never fully fooled you; having seen things that weren’t supposed to there since you could form proper sentences. You’ve always seen through it, a blessing and a curse. Here, though, something stronger is at play and Kelli’s form is flickering between her true self and a cheerleader.

She laughed. “Poor girl, you don’t even know what’s happening! Your camp is going up in flames pretty soon, you should know. You’ll all be slaves to the Lord of Time, and there’s nothing you can do about it! I’d be doing you a favour, ending your lives!”

Laughter echoed down the hall; the group from the gym must be starting their orientation. Kelli tilted her head, hearing it too. “Great! We’re going to have company!” She pounced at you, forcing you to roll out of the way. Percy’s sword lay on the ground between he and Kelli, as Rachel helped you to your feet. Percy kept his eyes on the empousa, crouching to pick up his weapon.

Kelli’s face changed dramatically from terrorising to terror. She screamed a gut-wrenching sound. The voices in the hall grew quiet.

“Somebody!” She yelled with fake fear. “Help me!”

Only the gods knew what it looked like to mortals. The band room door swung open, and teachers flooded in, students standing in the hall with gaping mouths. Percy, sword in his hand pointed at Kelli, who at this point had tears streaming down her face.

Paul Blofis shook his head and held his hand out to Percy. “Percy…what’s?…”

He dropped his hand ever-so-slightly. And Kelli burst into flames. Waves of the fire spread too quickly across everything, dark plumes of smoke hastily developing. Paul stepped back, ushering the kids away. “What have you done?” He shook his head.

Kids screamed and began to run about like headless chickens. The teachers were screaming for backup through their walkies. Rachel pushed you to Percy.

“Go!” She yelled. “You’ve got to leave before they send backup. Go!”

Percy escaped through the open band room window, sprinting away through an alley. You had no choice but to follow him. Already, sirens were getting closer. You dove into the nearest cab, whose driver didn’t even question where you came from. Percy breathed deeply as he spouted the address of Half-Blood Hill, Long Island.

Percy’s side door flung open just before the car could leave, revealing the disheveled-looking Rachel Dare. She thrust a piece of paper in Percy’s hands.

“I need to know more. About all of this. About what’s happening. Call me. Now go, I’ll deal with this.”

She slammed the door shut. You blinked at Percy, collapsing into the seat.

“Well. That was a terrible idea.”

taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @i-love-books-and-the-bible @obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcilla

[disasterarea-podcast]

So given the writer’s strike, some people are concerned about their shows and movies being postponed or canceled, and aside from the fact networks have already BEEN canceling shows for no reason for years (I still maintain a healthy anger about what Netflix did to Sense8), I thought I would suggest some books on disasters you might want to read if you’re into that sort of history. Which you are if you’re here, I imagine.

Note: I’m suggesting these books because most books on disasters don’t get a huge audience, and so I recommend them because this sort of writing can be hard on the writer and requires a bunch of research. We throw so much money at true crime, we can spare a few bucks for the stories of people who died in disasters.

Also, please check with these with your local small bookstore or library. Amazon can be great, but let’s lend a hand to those who need us more.

Recommended books:

“The Circus Fire,” by Stewart O’Nan - This is one my favorite books on a disaster, because the whole thing creates a very vivid image of the circus prior to the fire in Hartford in July of 1944. There’s one specific line in the book which always makes me pause because it’s so affecting, about how everyone who escaped being able to hear the sounds of the animals screaming as they died - except all of the animals were out of the tent by then.

“The Only Plane in the Sky,” by Garrett Graff - This, I highly recommend you get on audiobook. It’s an oral history of the events of 9/11 with a full cast, and it’s incredibly affecting to listen to.

“Ada Blackjack: A True Story of Survival in the Arctic,” by Jennifer Niven - Ada Blackjack was a badass: flawed and weak at times, but hardy and steady when necessary. Half of her story is how she survived, but half is how she was exploited following her rescue. Both stories need to be known.

“Alive,” by Piers Paul Read - If you’re watching “Yellowjackets,” this should be required reading. If you’ve seen the movie adaptation from the 90s, there is WAY more you don’t know. The story of Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571 is a tough read, but a worthy one.

“A Night to Remember,” by Walter Lord - This is to disaster nonfiction what “In Cold Blood” is to true crime. It’s not a long read, but it’s a great one. Lord had the advantage of writing the book while many of the Titanic survivors were still alive and could give a very good description of what they went through.

“Dying to Cross,” by Jorge Ramos - I recommend this not just because it is good, but because it is timely. Nineteen people died in an un-air-conditioned truck as they were attempting to make their way into the states from over the Mexican border. It’s a horrific story, and one that humanizes an issue for whom some people need to be faced with the humans involved and what they go through.

“Bath Massacre: America’s First School Bombing,” by Arnie Bernstein - Harold Schecter also wrote a very good book on the Bath school massacre called “Maniac,” but I have a preference for this version. It’s a good reminder that schools in the U.S. didn’t just become targets in the last twenty years or so.

“Into Thin Air,” by Jon Krakauer - I feel like this is a gimme, but it’s a fantastic book from someone who was actually on Mount Everest during the 1996 disaster and knew those involved very well. I happen to like Krakauer’s work anyway - I even like “Into the Wild” despite my feelings about McCandless and his legacy - but it’s understandably my favorite.

“And the Band Played On,” by Randy Shilts - The one thing I will say is that Shilts’ treatment of Gaetan Dugas is *rough* to say the least and outright wrong on some points, God knows. But it’s still an amazing book, and if you come out of it not wanting to dig up Reagan and punch him a bunch I’m impressed at your restraint.

“Triangle: The Fire That Changed America,” by David von Drehle - The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire is one of the disasters I am most interested in, and I would argue this is the definitive book on the subject. Also, if this book introduces you to both Clara Lemlich and Frances Perkins … I mean, talk about badass women.

“The Radium Girls,” by Kate Moore - Look, I’ll say this. If you know of the Radium Girls, this is a great book on their story. If you don’t know, go in blind and prepared to be horrified.

“Red Famine: Stalin’s War on Ukraine,” by Anne Applebaum - Ukraine has always been a target. During the Holodomor, they were victims of one of the worst genocides in history.

“Midnight in Chernobyl,” by Adam Higginbotham - Like the miniseries? This is a great source for more information for what happened at Chernobyl and all of the ass-covering involved.

"Boston Strong: A City's Triumph Over Tragedy," by Casey Sherman and Dave Wedge - If you’re interested in the Boston marathon bombing, I really thought this book did a good job of connecting the stories of the victims, the authorities searching for the killers, and the killers themselves.

“Show Me the Bodies: How We Let Grenfell Tower,” by Peter Apps - As I understand it, Apps did a lot of covering the Grenfell Tower fire for the British press, and it shows. He provides a mountain of information, and you will come out of reading this book absolutely LIVID about what authorities allowed to happen in Grenfell and so many other council estates in the UK.

“Dark Tide: The Great Molasses Flood of 1919,” by Stephen Puleo - I feel as though the molasses flood gets treated like a joke a lot of the time, but y’all, twenty people died. That area of Boston was *wrecked*. The photos of the devastation are terrifying. Puleo treats all of this with the proper respect it deserves.

“In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex,” by Nathaniel Philbrick - Forget the movie. Read the book.

“The Great Influenza,” by John M. Barry - Want to read about the 1918 flu epidemic? Want to be mad that a hundred years later we didn’t learn a damn thing?

Now, that’s just a start. If anyone wants, I can always post photos of my disaster book collection on Kindle and next to my recording desk. Or if there’s a specific disaster you’re interested in, I may know of a good book about it you can read.

But just remember if SAG and the directors’ guild joins the strike too - there is so much out there to occupy your time until they come back. Entertainment work is work, and it deserves to be supported financially and fairly as such. Rock on, WGA. ✊

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Engagement Edition

SERIES MASTERLIST

the caption is so long so sorry

ps i made the likes and comment numbers all of z’s jersey numbers/numbers associated with him :)

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, and 11,469 others

yourusername “does the sun promise to shine? no, but it will, even behind the darkest clouds it will. and no promise will make it shine longer or brighter, for that is its fate, to burn until it can burn no more. so, to love you is not my promise, it is my fate, to burn for you until i can burn no more.” (atticus)

trevor zegras, you are my everything; and soon, you will be my husband. i remember our first (real) kiss like it happened yesterday; it was march 16th, 2018, after our first date. it was spring break, and we were all at home together. just a few days prior i learned that you had talked to quinn to get permission to ask me out. i said yes, and we snuck out in the middle of the night to not be disturbed or questioned by the entire house. there was a park about a ten minute walk from the house, and you had this giant backpack on with secret “date supplies.” you had my hide in the playground and made me swear to not look at what you were doing. you tied a sheet to two poles of the sitting area and set up a mini projector to play X2 specifically because i love the lines “it’s me” “prove it.” “you’re a dick” “okay.” after the movie, you told me to sit on the bench while you cleaned up to “switch up societies standards” and that’s how i knew i wanted to make this work. it’s how i knew i’d do anything to keep you. you grabbed my hand before we walked through the front door of the house to stop me, and that’s when you kissed me. i thought it was magic. turns out, everything you do is magic.

the only thing that comes close to that, is the day we first told each other “i love you.” it was july 4th, 2018, just shy of our four month anniversary. i had been building up to say it, post a very long phone call with quinn a few nights before (i later learned you had one, too) but i hadn’t found the right time. i wanted the right time to appear for me and not pressure myself into planning on when to say it. some of the boys’s younger cousins were around the house for the fourth of july party, and my not-so-secret favorite cousin at a strong willed four years old proclaimed that she wanted to guess who my boyfriend was— you or cole. the three of us were being very cuddly on the couch and it clearly confused the poor child, but because we’re us, we ran with it. she started out strong with wanted me to kiss both of you. i was unsure, but the two of you conspired behind my back and decided that both of you kissing me was completely acceptable! while i was trying to figure out how to politely tell her that i will not be kissing one of my boyfriend’s best friends, i was grabbed from behind, spun, dipped, and kissed. i was shocked, to say the least, and my eyes practically bulged out of my head when i opened my eyes and saw it was cole who just put on a show for her! she was very giddy at this, and it had already been done, so i smiled and asked, “how are you planning to top that, zegras?” for those wondering, the room was very confused. my cousin quickly told everyone that she was guessing who was my boyfriend, and suddenly everyone wanted to watch the show. you grabbed my hand, kissed it, and said, “if i was your boyfriend, i’d know you don’t like to put on a show. so i’d cup your face, and pull you in slow.” i smiled into the kiss and this made her even more giddy. however, she was not satisfied with this, and stepped it up a notch by telling us that her next task was for us to tell each other i love you. i was stunned to silence. i’d been waiting for my moment to arise and here it was. but i didn’t want my first time saying it to you to be in front of everybody. you, on the other hand, so it loud and proud. my head snapped from you to quinn, who was trying to hide a smile behind his hand. i asked you if you were saying that for me or for the kid. you told me you were saying it to me, and told me “i love you” again. i smiled so wide it hurt as i took your hand and ran to the garage. the second the door closed i grabbed you to kiss you again. i looked into your eyes, your terrified eyes, and said “i love you.” cheers were heard behind the door, because our friends are the nosiest people i’ve ever met.

i say “i love you, always,” and you say “i love you, forever,” because in taylor’s song “forever and always” she sings “you didn’t mean it, baby.” and when we say it, we do mean it, so we switched it around. soon, we’ll be legally obligated to love each other always and forever! i pinky promise to be a good wife, and i can’t wait to see how hot you look in a non game day suit. i can’t wait to sit and pick color schemes, a band, force everyone to give speeches, and buy new shoes! most of all, i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you, always, z❤️

tagged trevorzegras

view all 5,313 comments

trevorzegras i’m in the playoffs with you now, my love❤️ can’t wait to win the stanley cup! i love you, forever, y/n/n

yourusername god i’m so in love with you

trevorzegras i fall more in love with you every day

yourusuername if we aren’t careful we’ll take up all the love in the universe

trevorzegras i hope we do. love belongs to us❤️

_quinnhughes seeing you two progress over the years has truly been amazing. i’m beyond happy for you two, and i’d give my blessing again and again. i can’t wait to walk you down the aisle! i love you, sissy, and congratulations❤️

yourusername i can’t imagine anyone else better for the job❤️ i love you so much, quintin!

trevorzegras thank you for everything, hughesy!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras as long as you keep her happy, i’ll be here for whatever you two need

jackhughes that applies to all of us

lhughes_06 it does

trevorzegras you saps <3

user9 i’m sobbing my eyes out! congratulations future mr. and mrs. zegras!

anaheimducks congratulations! the ducks family is beyond happy for the two of you!

jamie.drysdale congratulations, my favorite unhinged couple! guess it’s time we take our rings off, eh?

yourusername mine’s already off <3

jamie.drysdale mine came off the second after the final buzzer of the last game <3

yourusername I WAS WONDERING ABOUT THAT

jamie.drysdale well i couldn’t have our ring on on the day my best friend was going to propose, now could i?

trevorzegras you’re a real one, jimbo

user46 MY PARENTS ARE ENGAGED😭

colecaufield the day z facetimed me to help him pick your ring, i was useless and told him to call quinn. but i will NOT be a useless groomsman 🫡

yourusername actually…

colecaufield ACTUALLY?!?!

trevorzegras we couldn’t decide who gets you

yourusername soooo will you officiate us?

colecaufield i would be incredibly honored!

yourusername don’t mention the kissing

trevorzegras @/yourusername everybody was there it’s a little late for that

jackhughes very late

_quinnhughes very, very late

user11 z truly went all out with this proposal and i’m obsessed with it! congratulations!

jackhughes i pressured z into asking you out, but this was all him. i’m beyond happy for the two of you! welcome to the family, z! i love you, sissy❤️(and z)

yourusername i love you, too, jacky boy <3 thanks for threatening z with a fork if he didn’t ask me out post quinny’s permission!

jackhughes anytime!

trevorzegras welcome to the groomsman club! (love you, too)

user13 if i don’t get a love like this, i don’t want it. congratulations!

user22 remember when z called y/n his stanley cup? yeah, i’m crying more over this than i did over that

elblue6 welcome to the family @/trevorzegras! congratulations on your engagement! i love you both so much!

yourusername i love you, too, mom! thank you, for everything! i wouldn’t have met trevor when i did if you didn’t take me in❤️

trevorzegras thank you mama hughes! i love you, too!

edwards.73 so happy for you two! @/trevorzegras treat my mom right! she deserves only the best!

trevorzegras yes, sir

yourusername i love you, ethan! welcome to the bride’s club <3

edwards.73 @/yourusername i love you, too! i can’t wait!

lhughes_06 @/yourusername why does he get to be in the bride’s club and not me?!

yourusername @/lhughes_06 you’re actually the biggest debate yet and we have not placed you

lhughes_06 aww you two love me!

trevorzegras @/yourusername you can have him

user53 the caption? wrecked me. i’m sobbing.

lhughes_06 besides my parents, you two have always been the best couple i know and i’m so glad i grew up watching you guys fall in love! congratulations! love you both!

yourusername i’ll forever cherish you having “the talk” with z after you walked in on us making out <3 i love you, lukey moosey!

trevorzegras @/yourusername i hope you know all three of them and jamie had talks with me after i talked to quinn about proposing to you

yourusername @/trevorzegras you talked to quinn about proposing to me?🥹

_quinnhughes @/yourusername he asked my permission to ask you out and it turned out to be the best thing in his life. he wanted it again to “turn the best thing into the greatest thing”

yourusername i’ll cry right now

trevorzegras update: she’s under my shirt

lhughes_06 sounds about right

user01 y/n and z have the most secure relationship known to man. he had cole kiss her? he doesn’t get mad when she’s attached to quinn? she had rings with his best friend? they’re a fever dream

colemcward congratulations, mom! you’ll make a beautiful bride!

yourusername thank you, favorite child! you’re too sweet for this world ugh i love you!

colemcward i love you, too!

_eliaspettersson congratulations! if you’re happy, i’m happy

yourusername i’m beyond happy❤️

trevorzegras thank you!

user19 i didn’t know that was why you two say always and forever! love my favorite swiftie couple!

_alexturcotte congratulations you two! as someone who was cheering on the other side of the door after you said i love you, getting that facetime of you showing me the ring definitely beats that. i love you two so much!

yourusername i love you, too, turc! sorry you’re in the groomsman club <3

trevorzegras @/yourusername rude

_alexturcotte @/trevorzegras she’s the bride! she does nothing wrong, ever

_quinnhughes agreed

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras i’m giving you my wife! apologize!

trevorzegras you’re all right. i apologize.

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_quinnhughes, _alexturcotte, dylanduke25, _eliaspettersson, lhughes_06, and others added this to their story

[the-orange-tabby-cat]

The Renegade

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: This is why I’m writing to you, Tess. Do you see how much trouble am I? How unstable and not anywhere good for him? I can’t fall in love with him and he can’t get closer, I’m a weak bitch: I’m gonna fall for him if you don’t help me. I walked too many meters of bad decisions before, I can’t cross another ocean. You are my only hope, The renegade - Your parents ask you to try seeing a therapist, Tess, and you agree under one condition: she can't let you fall in love with Joel Miller. A fic in the format of letters, from you to Tess. 🐾

read on AO3 | masterlist | next chapter

Warnings/tags: Explict +18, no outbreak AU, slow burn, fluff, smut, kinda loser reader? lol, implied age gap, coming of age, no use of y/n

Word count of the prologue + chapter 1: 6,4k

Tabby note: This will be a quick fic, I promise! I needed to take it off my head, it was clogging everything else at this point lol I really wanted an anti-hero protagonist instead of the usual good girls I write. She is messy and adorable at the same time, I'm really proud of how the story is taking shape! Hope you like it!

PROLOGUE

Austin, July 2024

Dear Tess,

You said I could write you in any format as long I’m true to what I’m putting out. That’s some therapist bullshit, but since it’s you reading this mess, I will let it slide. I thought a lot about what to write down for you, not the usual overthinking, more of a “where do I begin?”. Remember, you were the one who told me to write this if I can’t say out loud what it is inside my head while we are in session. This shit is hard, okay?

Let me start by being the smartpants I used to be: the human brain processes a thought faster than one meter per second. If I put together all the meters my brain ran while getting bad ideas, I could now cross the Atlantic Ocean.

Do you remember when you were a kid and your parents told you to avoid certain people? That strange feeling you get when you see a trainwreck of a person, the one that didn’t exactly do something bad, they just are stuck somewhere out of this reality and you think to yourself “I would never get in that position”? 

I did get in that position. I’m stuck in that somewhere. For years now.

Wish I could tell you that something horrible happened to me when I was younger, that my mother crushed all my dreams and my dad left one day to buy a pack of cigarettes. What about a strict family or an over-the-top religious one where I’m one of ten kids? Not even close to the truth, I’m an only daughter.

Middle middle class: enough money to live more than comfortably, far from the luscious lifestyle of the riches. I grew up knowing money didn’t come from the trees, I touched some grass, okay? The only thing expected by my kinda-aristocrat parents was that I would achieve academic success prior to a life full of achievements.

Chess competitions, spelling bee trophies (if I make a mistake a few pages down, it’s been a while since it), debate club captain, swimming team… You name it and I did. At seventeen I was voted as “most likely to be successful” and second place for homecoming queen because slutty Katie gave the basketball team a sloppy blowjob after practice. I had a first kiss and gave one bad handjob under the bleachers by that age.

Then university came and nobody, no fucking body, got wowed when I got an Ivy League on my first try. My head was too shoved up my ass to notice life around me. I wasn’t a pretty girl anymore because girls in my class were prettier than me, wasn’t the smartest since I wasn’t a teacher’s pet by just existing. 

My classmates didn’t care for me because I had no clue about social etiquette: what alcohol is acceptable to bring to a frat party? How do you pick up guys and let them suck on your tongue? Do you stay inside your dorm room when your roommate is fucking or do you wait outside?

I could do it with being the awkward girl, but not with being less than perfect. By the second semester, I was crying every day in the shower and realized I had no friends, just people who had the same interests as me back home. I tried so hard to become the number one in my class that life became hell the second my teacher gave me a lower score on a significant test.

I left her class and instead of crying, calling my parents to vent, or any other shit, I walked by the first frat house I saw and decided to lose my v card there with any guy that looked remotely cute. 

Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be a slut if I hadn’t had a penis inside me yet, but I knew that something was boiling up for years. My hand sneaking under my panties after a tiring day, humping on my pillow whenever I got frustrated, even the shoulder massager I got for after swimming practice humming on my clit did it. All I needed was a chance to forget for a moment the hell that was my life.

And I did. A sand blond guy with a shark smile that would fuck anything that moved in his direction, clearly a rich bitch whose parents got his spot in the university. I walked in his direction and took my panties off, put them in his hand, and the next thing I saw he was deep inside of me while I hopped him vigorously.

I cummed so hard that I think saw Jesus, whatever he might be. Not that the guy made me cum, I had an itch for so long that any scratch would do it. Any. After coming down my high it was clear in my mind: I would do anything that I didn’t do before.

Drink until pass out, rob beer from the liquor store, fuck my roommate's hot dad, cheat on a test. Nothing was out of limits. Well, I still had to finish university and never use drugs because that was a hard no for me.

You see, Tess, I’m so good at keeping my promises to other people and ignoring my own needs that I did finish university. Graduated with an honor badge and everything, my parents' wet dream. Except they no longer knew me and had no clue that I spent four years whoring myself and doing everything to ignore who I used to be.

And this is why on my first day in a big company, a trainee job earned right after college, I vomited inside the bathroom stall during onboarding. A panic attack a week later when my leader delegated some tasks. You give me a few months and my mind went blank the second I started a presentation to the c level board. I ran so fast outside that I fell on the sidewalk, got up, called for a cab, and never came back.

It’s been years since it.

My parents came to you because they still have some hope. I don’t, I think they are being dumb. Yes, I have an Ivy League degree, a bunch of useless skills (except for Mandarin, I can read so fast the menu at a Chinese restaurant) but nothing to do with when I WON’T come back to who I used to be. Do you think I sound miserable now? I’m miserable but I’m free in my kitchenette downtown, with my band t-shirts and two jobs. Living the dream.

Of course I’m fucking lying to you. I hate my life because the bitch running it is so dumb (that’s me, by the way).

It used to be kinda cool. The day I ran from the office was the same day I went straight to the arcade and played Mortal Kombat II so much that I broke the machine’s record. I went there for a full week before the manager, an emo guy looking like a teenager, decided to hire me.

It wasn’t enough to pay for my fancy downtown apartment, the one that got furniture that didn’t come from IKEA, so I had to move to the shithole I’m now. A mini studio in a building so old that if the city trembles, I’m sure that I will be turning into dust.

Years in this life, day after day, and I wasn’t mad about it. I was free, after all. It took about two years for my parents to find out that I wasn’t the prodigious child anymore and they took better than I expected. My mom cried, cursed my name, and asked if someone hurt me but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was the one who caused it.

Anyway, you already know this stuff. They told you their side of the story when letting you know that I would be your new patient. What exactly have they told you? About how I never introduced them to a guy and my dad had a very straightforward conversation with me about why lesbians were cool and he would accept me if I was one? Maybe they told you about how I got so drunk one Christmas that end up peeing on the petunias in the neighbor’s yard and my mom thought it was a good idea to tell them I was heavily sedated from a fear of flying? Nobody said it was easy to be an only child.

What you don’t know is that I have a love life, you are welcome. For years I’ve been sleeping around with a married man. I know, I know, shocking! Scandalous! His name is Peter and he is dumb as a door. But the dick is good and he sometimes treats me like a real person. I met him at a bar, gave him a blowjob in the back alley (Katie would be proud) and we see each other every week since.

Remember when I said my family isn’t religious? Thank god because that’s not everything. I have a boyfriend, a real one. It was a scorching day, the AC wasn’t working and I had to put the neckline out a bit before becoming a puddle. That’s when I see him, playing with his friends, having fun, being so fucking broad and handsome… I had to taste it.

Flirted a bit and boom, got him at the back door pumping deep inside of me while I was sitting on a desk. He was amazing, he was making me gooey to the point of screaming in pleasure. Too good to be true, when he was about to come I saw the little golden cross pending from his neck.

The next day he came back, told me how sorry he was, and asked me for an opportunity to show me how good he could be. I thought he wanted a second round, but nope, he wanted me to meet Jesus. I’m a people pleaser, Tess. It has been four months since I’m Mormon Isaac’s girlfriend. Every Sunday I attend the sermon, his family knows me and I haven’t slept with him since that first day. It marks also the four months I’m trying to break up with him.

You must think that I ain’t a good person and you are right, I’m not. Not the worst, but for sure not a fucking saint. I don’t come back in my decisions, anyone else with less brain would, but not me. I’m too stubborn to deal with the hell I made of my own life. Or used to, because now I’m head over heels for this guy, Tess.

Joel Miller. The stupid hunk who is older, wiser, and hot. Who I can’t stop thinking about since we met. Damn his pretty brown eyes and how they look into my soul. I’m a mess and I need some help dealing with it before he gets into my trap and I destroy him.

This is why I’m writing to you, Tess. Do you see how much trouble am I? How unstable and not anywhere good for him? I can’t fall in love with him and he can’t get closer, I’m a weak bitch: I’m gonna fall for him if you don’t help me. I walked too many meters of bad decisions before, I can’t cross another ocean.

You are my only hope,

The renegade

P.S. I won’t pay you shit, hope my parents paid you enough for this.

CHAPTER ONE

Austin, July 2024

Dear Tess,

Yes, I'm doing well, thank you for your concern, guess the rambling in my last letter got you worried about me. It’s a skill, I’m very good at making people worry. I'm marvelous, splendid, and well, fucked. By our last session, you asked me more details of how I ended up meeting Joel and I said to you “a lady never tells” and you didn't laugh, tough crowd. Let me paint you a picture then.

There are many regulars at the arcade. The asians dudes that go there after Kumon (been there, done that, I feel so sorry for them), the lone wolves of 40+ that still want to feel young since they can't get any pussy and, my favorites, the after-school reruns.

These little fuckers go there every week to burn some steam from their sugary-inflicted bodies, stay until 4 pm and go straight to their houses, to their mom and dad. I'm not bitter, I just hate teenagers.

I'm aware that it sounds like I'm on the wrong career path since they keep my economy going, but fuck it, teenagers give me the creeps. Except for the queers, they are quite nice. I have a baby lesbian (it’s pretty obvious) that I call 3 pm because she comes by this time twice a week, Ellie.

She is probably fifteen or so and everything I wasn't at her age. Firecracker, bossy with a dirty mouth – did I ever tell you that the first time I said “fuck” in front of my parents was after my meltdown? You can guess it. One of the only teenagers I got close to if I'm honest. She came by one afternoon, saw Mortal Kombat II, and hasn't left since.

“Who's The Renegade?” She asked me one time, checking out the scoreboard with disgust. Remember I beat the machine record? She was right after me.

“No clue, try harder.” I teased her thinking she wouldn't care and move on with her life, like people do.

But not Ellie, she tried really hard to break the fucking record. Week after week, I watched her trying her best from my glass display while wearing the ugly bowling striped shirt that is my uniform.

I saw him way before he saw me. Doing my regular afternoon routine, cleaning the games with some rubbing alcohol to avoid the sticky hands infecting everywhere, minding my business under the neon light. All good, until I saw broad shoulders (I have a type, okay? Sue me) playing the fucking Mortal Kombat II with Ellie by his side.

Broad, so fucking broad. Dark curls with some gray here and there adorning his ears. I must have made some noise because for a second he looked back and that nose? Yeah, that was the end of me.

“You were close, old man,” Ellie teased as the fight on screen got to an end. He glared at her before looking at his score. “Nah, you're full of shit. Not even close to me or The Renegade.”

“Yeah, if I was spending that much time here I would be second place too,” he groaned before gaining full height. That voice gave me chills as I pretended I haven't heard shit, trying to not sneak a look and failing every time.

And that was it, Tess. Not exactly your meet cute, sorry. He came back maybe three or four times, always polite, nothing else. I thought it would be a silent crush, a small one until I got bored. I’m constantly bored.

My second job is a little less orthodox, if you can call my first one that. A girl has to do what she has to to get that bag. On Christmas, I’m the Santa helper with a mini skirt and sweet smiles (you can imagine how many times I picked up desperate dads like that), by Easter, I’m your lucky bunny hopping around in white hot pants, when Thanksgiving is around the corner I’m the sluttiest turkey you ever saw. 

The mall manager pays me double because I let him once see my boobs and the poor guy is so lonely that he is more than sure that we will sleep together at some point.

“A vest with “can I help you?” tagline? Where is the skanky clothes?” I asked him one Saturday morning, thinking he made a mistake giving me the day costume.

“We’re getting more boomers and older visitors, we need someone to stay in a good floor spot and answer their questions,” he told me in a boring tone, the sadness in his eyes always a classic.

“Okay, if they ask me questions, what do I do? I don’t know shit about this mall except that you can buy powder by the public telephones and shouldn’t use the ladies bathroom on the second floor, that’s where Nora from Chipotle goes and that woman’s ass is rancid.” He furrowed his brows and dragged his hand on his face, taking his time to process what I had just said.

“Just be nice and bring them to someone who will be helpful, maybe a security guard, I don’t know. And don’t use cocaine while on the job, I can’t deal with another junkie here,” he said reinforcing the vest on my hands and urging me to get out of the room.

Now would be a good time to remind you that I don’t use drugs, never did. I might be many things in this life, but not a stoner. Not because I’m prudish or think drugs are bad for you, even if they are. I’m way too afraid about getting hooked once I realize that the play-pretend reality that they induce in your brain is better than this one. I’m self-destructive, but not stupid.

So there I was, in my lime neon vest, above a small platform with a big dark blue “information” written. Thinking about anything you can imagine, my shift lasts six hours and I can’t sit down, just a fifteen-minute bathroom break. One of my worst nightmares is to be alone with the dumb bitch inside my head, that’s why I hate silence.

When was the last time you went to a mall? They used to be a big deal in my younger days, but now they are dead. It’s so fucking slow, just little packs of people here and there. Not even music playing to alleviate the tension between me and my stupid brain.

“Miss?” A small voice called, I looked to the sides and saw nobody,  so they insisted. “Miss?”

I looked down on the platform and to my surprise, a toddler with big brown eyes and curly hair was calling me. Hesitating for a second, I climbed down my platform and crouched to get my eyes the same height as his, I read once that kids get more comfortable like that.

“Hm, yeah?” I asked unsure of how one talks with kids, shouldn’t he be there with an adult?

“I can’t find my uncle,” the poor kid was on the verge of tears, making me panic.

“Okay, let’s find him,” I said with very little confidence, unsure how to approach it.

Before I could think about what I would do, his hand found a place in mine, holding me like an anchor. I decided to go to the nearest security guard and hope for the best, one thing was to be a failure by myself and another was to fail a little kid.

We walked for about five minutes, the fucking mall had a small amount of guards. No fucking clue why nobody comes down there. The kid got a little tired of walking and held up his little arms, asking to be picked up.

I accepted it, letting him rest his head on my shoulder. Thinking about it now, as I write this to you, I can’t remember the last time somebody hugged me. We might need to talk about it in session.

“You tell me if you see him, okay? What does your uncle look like?” I asked still walking down the corridor, searching for the damn guard.

“Big, fluffy hair,” I laughed at how wholeheartedly the kid tried to answer it.

“Blue eyes? Dark hair?” He shook his head for the first one but nodded at the second.

Changing corridor, I saw from afar a big guy and a smaller figure talking with a guard and figured out it was the kid’s uncle. The man seemed agitated, speaking with his hands in the air. As I pressed my steps, the figures got more familiar. Made a signal for the kid, showing them when we were close enough and his face lightened up.

“Uncle Joel!” He shouted happily, as I put him down so he could run to the tall man.

That’s how I found out his name. Simple, discrete, direct. Jo-el. Suits him.

He immediately hugged the boy, kissing the top of his head. Ellie was at the side getting color back on her face, unshed tears in her eyes when she noticed me.

“I know you,” she started and I panicked a little. I don’t know why, I wasn’t doing anything weird, but something about breaking their bubble made me uncomfortable.

Joel looked up from his nephew’s face and furrowed his brows, not in a “who the fuck are you?” kinda way, more of a “wait, I do know you too”.

“Hm, yeah, I work at the arcade down the block,” I said in a monotone, looking into Ellie’s eyes, ignoring Joel’s.

“Are you safe? All good?” Joel asked in a soft tone, much softer than I imagined a man like him could do, to the kid.

“Yes,” the toddler replied searching for my hand again. My eyes got to the size of the moon, unaware of how to react.

“Thank you for helping him, we were about to lose our heads searching for him everywhere.” Joel gave me puppy eyes in his dearest manners and every inch of my body heated as he got up, gaining his tall size. 

A grown, big man being soft on the edges? The hottest thing I’ve seen and I fucked once Mormon Isaac.

I was ready to get back to my platform when Ellie shared stares with Joel, a language I hadn’t properly been introduced to in my formal education, but I think I can decipher:

Ellie looking straight, then bringing her eyebrows up - say something, Joel

Joel furrowing his heavy eyebrows and pouting a little, before looking towards the exit - no, let’s go home

Ellie rolling eyes and siding it in my direction real quick - she is right here, do something

Joel setting his jaw and looking directly at Ellie - I said no, let’s go home

Ellie narrowing her eyes and then nodding to the toddler - how did we got him back?

Joel glancing at his nephew, Ellie, and me before pouting a little bigger - okay, fine, you’re so annoying

Mind you I’m not a linguist in any way, I might have translated something wrong since I’m not fluent and the whole scene lasted no more than two seconds. I was highly confused when he put his hand on the toddler’s shoulder (mind you, who was still holding my hand) and cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry? It would be a pleasure having you with us,” he proposed in his most southern polite voice. I laughed a little, stupid bitch.

“That’s not… Necessary. Really. It’s okay!” I replied quickly, awkwardly trying to walk back. The kid’s hand grip got stronger.

“C’mon, stay. It’s the minimum I can do,” Joel insisted with another puppy eye.

“I used to g-get lost too, in the mall, you know? It’s okay! It’s just a full circle moment, but thank you!” I lied.

I was a prodigious child, way too smart for my age, and for sure not roaming around in a suburban mall. My parents weren’t strict, but they had a very clear vision of what was cool and what was trashy. Read in my room, go to museums and cinema exhibitions of foreign movies that I was able to watch without the subtitles? Hot and cool. Go to the mall, watch blockbuster movies, and eat a burger at the food court? Suburban and trashy. I got lost once at a library, though.

“He won’t stop giving you the puppy eye until you accept, c’mon,” Ellie replied gaining a double glare from me and Joel, who – in all truth – was still giving me puppy eyes.

“Some pizza wouldn’t hurt,” I said with an awkward lopsided smile. 

The duo stared at each other again, now that I had more familiarity with the language I think I can get better translations:

Ellie shotting up her eyebrows and inclining her head towards the front of her body - told ya, old man

Joel sighing before eyeing the food court direction - lead the way, brat

“Let’s go, Luke,” Ellie grabbed the kid’s hand from mine and started to walk.

“One sec,” I said before taking off my vest and placing it in the security guard’s hand, who looked at me puzzled. I would find a way out of trouble with the manager later on. “Okay, all good!”

“So… The arcade and the mall, you must be good with teenagers,” Joel started nodding in Ellie’s direction. He said in such a genuine matter that it took me back, not a single harsh reply in my brain.

“Not really, it’s more of a coincidence. I try to avoid them a little, though. They could shatter me with one comment.” I laughed a little, trying to break the awkwardness between us. He smirked a bit.

“I get it, Ellie likes to remind me that I’m no longer hip. Do people still use this word?” He asked chewing his cheek and I chuckled.

“I’m not sure. Maybe no? We are very much 20th-century material,” he smiled. 

Do I like to think it was because I hinted that I was old enough to drink, so old enough to fuck him? Yes. But I regretted it the moment that thought appeared in my head.

Don’t get me wrong Tess, even if I’m a slut I wasn’t trying to fuck Joel Miller when we got alone. It’s more of an old habit, a second skin. When I got the conclusion men were little needy bitches, I got laid often.

You pretend to be stupid and praise them on their big brain. Maybe they prefer it when you are a hopeless girl who needs a strong man to solve something that your small body can’t. Or, the classic, they just want a shy girl who has no idea of how pretty she is and is more than grateful that he is there to show her.

Men are simple creatures. The more you make yourself smaller and dumber, the more they want you. Nobody wants an opinionated woman who knows her worth, that isn’t sexy. It’s a sin being a woman who is not sexy all the time.

Something inside of me knew Joel wasn’t trying to pick me up. He was just an older guy with a life set and a family of his own, he wanted to be nice to the girl who helped his nephew.

“Your nephew is a sweet kid, very affectionate,” I said in a genuine tone, trying to clear a bit of my head.

“A good kid too, smart for his age. He will be three in a couple of days,” Joel's face lightened up talking about the toddler. I wondered if someone’s face ever got so bright thinking of me.

“Growing up fast?” I asked trying to keep up, I don’t much about raising kids except that parents feel like everything is way too fast.

“Yes, but there is a long way until he becomes a petulant teenager like Ellie,” he joked with tenderness.

“She is cool, just the right amount of sassy in her bones. Her friends too, they are well-behaved down the arcade,” I said thinking about the times I saw her with other weird teenagers there.

“Really? Good to know her friends treat her well, she needs that,” he replied quickly. I lost him for a second and couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“Why?” Could I sugarcoat my curiosity a bit? Of course, but my initial awkwardness was opening space for a comfortable conversation and I’m bad at calculating risk.

“We just moved, right before the school year. I’m from Austin, but Ellie no, she is from Boston. We lived there for a few years before moving back. Is tough to be the new kid, you know.”

The soft around the edges came back. I started to wonder how I never noticed Ellie’s accent, but it made sense.

“And why did you come back? Work?” I asked, again, without thinking further. Joel scratched his scruff while pondering how much detail he would give me.

“Boston got too heavy. Bad memories, you know? She needed a fresh start and I was missing the Texas sun.” My eyes searched for a ring on his hand for the first time, but there was nothing to see. Maybe a bad divorce? A widow?

“In that case, welcome home, cowboy,” I said mimicking holding a tip of a cowboy hat to him, who smiled a bit.

When we arrived at the food court, we went straight to the only pizza option available, the fucking Pizza Hut. The mall is shitty, if you haven’t noticed it yet Tess.

Ellie ordered everyone’s pizza as if she were introducing us to a new, exotic cuisine. Joel got amused, looking at her adoringly while petting his nephew's curls. I allowed myself to imagine what if my weekends were filled with this domestic view, if I would be happy to live such a mundane life and got surprised when the response was positive.

“Will you finally tell me who The Renegade is?” Ellie joked with a hint of truth. Joel rolled his eyes in good fun.

“A lady never tells,” I winked at her and Joel grinned with a little laugh. You see Tess, when you make a joke this is how people react, not scribbling something down their therapist's notepad. Rude as fuck.

The pizza could be better, but the company was more than good. I found myself laughing at Ellie’s puns, making comments about the arcade regulars. Joel tried to make me laugh a few times too, like an old friend. I felt good, felt normal instead of the constant weight on my shoulders.

At some point during our little chit-chat, I furrowed my eyebrows.

“How did Luke get lost? You haven’t told me that.” I questioned both of them, Ellie’s cheeks got pink. Joel made a motion for her to speak.

“Joel went inside a store and asked me to wait a little with Luke, to keep an eye on him for a second while he got something. I know,” she looked into his eyes with a guilty stare, “that I must hold Luke’s hand whenever we’re in a public place. I didn’t, started to look into a window shop thinking he was by my side.”

“It’s okay, you were holding tight to his hand on our way here,” Joel assured her.

If that man couldn’t get any hotter, he didn’t hold the weight of her mistakes against her. I swear that I don’t have daddy issues, I might have a Peter Pan syndrome or shit like that, but my dad was quite nice for a stuck-up guy. I’m not comparing dads, I’m comparing how to deal with delicate hearts: in that couple of hours I got to know a little more of them, I saw how Joel didn’t hold Ellie back, tried to shape her into something he wanted. Even inside of my own body I can’t do that with myself, be this level of kind.

I think Joel got me when it crossed my mind that I could fuck up and, maybe, he would still like me. I wouldn’t be a bitch, a bad girl to him. I would be just a person who made a mistake and he would still be there. What if my main kink is to be loved?

He paid for the meal, of course, a southern gentleman. I said goodbye, hinting I would be there when Ellie decided to show up at the arcade and she replied with a “hell yeah”. They left and I sighed, so light as if I had a spa day, but nope, just a good time with nice people. I might be lonely.

In a snap of fingers, I met the mall manager who questioned me why I wasn’t at the platform. The weight of the world came back on my shoulders, I reasoned that I was tired and wanted to go home as fast as possible.

“A kid got lost and I went to help him find his family. I think the slutty outfit might be a better idea next time, this shit is too complex,” I said shrugging before flashing him again with my boobs for a few seconds.

What? I had a nice meal with a good family, but I’m still not a saint.

Anyway, life followed its course. Saw Ellie sometimes at the arcade, Joel would greet me by name whenever he was there to pick her up, all good and normal. I told you, this is not your meet-cute story.

If you are wondering, yes, I saw Mormon Isaac the next day after the missing kid incident. Holy Sunday, couldn’t skip.

I don’t have exactly a wardrobe that screams “SLUT!”, but the vibe isn’t exactly good southern mormon girl. Jesus just wasn’t my thing growing up. My parents were a little paranoid about the christians, we avoided them at all cost. I had to thrift some stuff to attend Sunday preaching with Mormon Isaac.

It was so boring, every single Sunday. Thank God the pastor would scream from time to time on his speech, the only thing waking me up. Mormon Isaac, strangely as it seems, wouldn’t try to grab me a little here and there while we were inside the church.

“Are you okay?” I asked him once when he audibly swallowed when I touched the inside of his thigh when the pastor was speaking, or whatever.

“Yes. Please, not here, sweetheart,” he urged me and I rolled my eyes.

Every. Fucking. Sunday. For. Four. Months. He would only give me a peck after church, always in front of his family, if his parents weren’t making lunch he would drive me home and that’s it.

Sometimes we would do other stuff too. He would take me to the cinema to see a movie, always under PG-13 though. I would try to jack him off and he wouldn’t allow me, I once tried to give him a blowjob and he said he was waiting for the right time. We fucked rough in the staff room and now I was a pervert, make it make some sense.

You can imagine my surprise when, in the middle of an afternoon, Mormon Isaac appeared from nowhere at the arcade.

“Guess whose four-month anniversary is today?” He asked me while holding a box. I have no idea how to pray, but I know that I prayed for every single entity in the sky for a surprise break up as a git.

“Wow, lucky me,” I said with a fake smile. If my job was boring that afternoon, it was about to become worse.

From the corner, I saw Ellie picking up her backpack from the floor as I opened the box. A deep voice greeted my name and I got cold.

Mormon Isaac was looking at me like he was the best boyfriend in the whole world. Joel appeared to be curious, getting close to the glass display I call my office.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” he said looking at the bible in my hands. A fucking bible. Damn you, Mormon Isaac.

“She attends the Sunday preach every week,” Mormon Isaac promptly corrected with his most polite smile. I wanted to die.

“Thank you very much, I will cherish it.” I smiled back, looking into Joel’s eyes with a silent rescue request when Mormon Isaac glanced at his phone.

“See you tomorrow-,” he started and I cut it before he could finish that thought.

“For the bible study, yes. It will be a pleasure,” I said faking another smile, Joel looked so confused and amused by the whole situation. Mormon Isaac grinned so hard that I thought he was about to cum in his pants.

“That’s fantastic! I will let my mom know!” He said before grabbing his phone and walking out, leaving me and Joel behind.

I sighed and dropped my head into my arms, right at the bible. Joel's laugh, I sound I grew to adore, echoed and I glanced up from my arms.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in good fun, looking at how distressed I was.

“You do me a favor: never, I said never, open the door for a Jeovah’s witness. I accepted one preach from this mormon customer and now he plays rehab with me,” I said avoiding the fact that the said mormon was my boyfriend on the following day we would meet for a date.

“I will. Do you need an excuse for bible study?” He asked looking somewhere behind me like he was forming a plan inside his head, both hands on my glass display while Ellie waited.

“Does it involve religion or any kind of cult?” I half-joked. Half because if hot Joel said he wanted me to go to any kind of religious ceremony I would have another panic attack and leave.

Joel looked to Ellie, who looked back at him and both nodded. This time I can’t translate, sorry, I’m still in the process of getting the language's grammatical structure.

“Tomorrow is Luke’s birthday. Surprise party. You don’t want to break the poor’s kid heart, c’mon,” Ellie said faking seriousness. Joel nodded back.

“There will be food?” Ellie confirmed. “Booze?”

“Do you like beer?” Joel asked, also in fake seriousness. Except that his death stare made me fucking wet.

“Pass me your phone so I can give you my number, text me the address,” I turned my palm up to grab the said phone, he smirked and Ellie laughed.

And this, Tess, is how I met Joel, got my little heart full of him just to let him slip into my life. What can I say? I never wanted to save a horse more than the moment he lassoed me.

I think you have more than enough material for our next session already. I will give you that yes, I speak more about what is inside my head like this. I think it might be because it feels strangely similar to submitting a paper, you know how much I love being the teacher’s pet.

Don’t forget: I can’t fall in love with this guy,

The Renegade

P.S. In case it isn’t obvious, I don’t have daddy issues. I DON’T. I know what it looks like, but I don’t have it. Don’t even try.

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