#Happy Birthday Jack Frost!

[mahoganyrust]

Happy Birthday Jack!

Did I draw this on unhealthy levels of caffeine? Yes. Do I regret it? It’s 3am so maybe but it doesn��t matter BECAUSE IT’S JACK FROST’S BIRTHDAYYYYYYYYY

[piplupcola]

Happy Birthday to my dear friend @aleikats ! It's been officially 10 years since we met! With this drawing, this marks the end of the Alane Birthday Project. How time has flown by since I first drew my first digital painting for you as a gift back in 2014! 10 years and 11 gifts later, my skills don't seem to have improve, but I hope that you enjoyed each one that I made with all my heart!

Happy Birthday Alane! Wishing you all the love and joy on your special day! 🎂❤️

[guardian-of-fun-times]

Jack Frost would probably enjoy a cool, frosty drink that reflects his icy powers and playful personality.

1 cup milk (or vanilla almond milk for a sweeter touch)

2 scoops vanilla ice cream or frozen yogurt

1/4 tsp peppermint extract

1/2 cup crushed ice

2 tbsp white chocolate syrup (optional, for added sweetness)

Whipped cream

Crushed candy canes or blue sugar crystals

A drizzle of white chocolate syrup

A sprig of mint or a snowflake-shaped candy

Blend the Base: Combine the milk, vanilla ice cream, peppermint extract, crushed ice, and white chocolate syrup in a blender. Blend until smooth and frothy.

Serve: Pour the frosty mixture into a tall, frosted glass.

Top It Off: Add whipped cream, sprinkle with crushed candy canes or blue sugar crystals, and drizzle with white chocolate syrup. Garnish with a sprig of mint or snowflake candy for a whimsical touch.

Enjoy: Perfect for sipping while skating across a frozen lake or creating snowflakes in the crisp winter air.

This drink captures Jack’s cool charm and love for wintery fun. Jack Frost might spike his drink if he were in a particularly mischievous or celebratory mood. He’d likely choose something light and refreshing to complement the cool, minty flavors of his drink — like a splash of:

Peppermint Schnapps: To enhance the frosty, minty vibe.

Vanilla Vodka: For a sweet, creamy undertone that blends well with the ice cream.

White Rum: To keep the drink crisp and add just a touch of warmth.

Jack wouldn’t go overboard, though — his playful nature would make it more about adding a fun twist rather than creating something overly strong. A spiked version would likely be a treat for special occasions, like celebrating with his fellow Guardians!

[cloudelix]

ITS JACK FROST BDAY??!?!?!? WAIT I LOOKED ITS UP it’s the 22nd! Wow crazy maybe I’ll make a lil doodle of him :D (I’m just looking for an excuse at the point lol)

Didn’t expect November ✨imagine that✨

[vitamntea]

Happy happiest birthday my princess. 🤍

Kiara, Jack Nevermore and ✨scenery✨ All she asked for was to see them. And Jack knows someone who can make the lights appear.

[maxriderg]

To quote Vincent Martella as Phineas Flynn of Phineas and Ferb fame, once again as usual for Today (but in my very own way): Fellers, I know what I can still share for Today (complete with a Song like Kick It Up a Notch included) and so, to honor a special Early Double Birthday for Jouji Nakata and Sarah Anne Williams, I got this and well, have a HAPPY EARLY DOUBLE BIRTHDAY to these tunefully talented two, Ladies and Gentlemen! ;)

[holding-monsters-hands]

Happy birthday @frostcorpsclub ! I can’t say enough how incredible it’s been getting to know you with each day, and I hope you have an incredible time celebrating your bday! so here’s a wholesome mini fic for jack & suzy to celebrate!

A warm snow day (Jack x suzy)

It was a beautifully crisp December morning, and the frost family were enjoying it to their fullest, by having a fun day out in the snow! as the snowballs were rolling around in the fluffy white blanket around them, all while their dearest mother watched with a fond expression painting her pale skin. “Oh Jack, they’re growing so fast..” she softly sighed with a slight frown, glancing over at her husband. Who only let out a chuckle and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle reassurance squeeze that only she could earn from him, “not fast enough, in my opinion.” though he was obviously bluffing, anyone who has known him long enough would know how much he treasured his wife and children, though he’d never really verbalize it. “Oh hush, you don’t mean that!” she lightly smacked him on his snowy chest, earning a little snort from him as he pulled her closer to his larger form, “yeah yeah, whatever you say broad.” he hummed, absentmindedly rubbing his wife’s shoulder while she leaned into him.

“broad? aren’t you just so rude, even to your own wife!” she feigned offense, paired with a little gasp as she crossed her arms and turned her head, he gave a toothy smirk at this little dramatic show of hers and started to squeeze and tickle her sides- “sheesh quit nagging me, y’know you’re my girl..~” he let out a low purr from the back of his throat, keeping her absolutely ensnared in his hold. The two now going back and forth in a little play fight, which really just resulted into them being too flustered for words.

and yet the couple fell in silent bliss as they watched their children play, their little squeals of joy and laughter just made jack’s icy heart turn to mush. Little reminders of how truly lucky he is to have this domestic life.

[callimara]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SNOW GLOBE ILU AND THINK ABOUT YOU DAILY!!!

#24 JUST SAY IT JELLSAAAAAA ARTGHHHAHAHNSNNEMWMEMWJAJHAJAHAHHAHA

On July 1st, the lonely house at the top of the mountain was finally sold.

— In which Jack(son) Overland tries his best to befriend his neighbor, one woodworking project at a time. { neighbors-to-lovers!fic, modern-mountain-living!au }

Prompt from @aicosu: Three-word sentences: "Just say it."

ao3 ❆

[gilly-moon]

Happy RoTG anniversary + Jack Frost’s birthday ♡

[pinkrelish]

do you think once miss mouse and eddie were in an established relationship she’d bake cakes for his and adrie’s birthday every year?? i feel like she’d go full out for adrie like full on multi tiered princess cake and the first time she does it eddie and his baby just go absolutely feral in the best way possible

ps typ is my favourite slow burn EVER i love it withh all my heart ur so talented

today's my birthday so it seems fitting to answer this! wc: 496

morning dawns soft blue in a kitchen warmed by low lights, and orange coils. a kettle boils water too hot for a third cup of instant coffee, and cooked sugar enriched by vanilla bakes through the small apartment. suffocating heat from the oven on the early june day breaks sweat on your forehead as you re-whip the frosting you made an hour ago, plastic bowl in your arms still cold from the fridge. the yellow cake cooling on the rack simple, homemade. jack of all trades, master of none, it's nothing impressive, just something to tide adrie and neighborhood kids over until the big party on the weekend.

still, when your big snoring man shuffles in with a bedhead halo and plaid pajama pants with one drawstring longer than the other, his raw wonder catches the husky sleep deep in his throat—"aw, baby, what're you doin'?"

you shrug, too shy to admit how early you woke up to do this, suddenly embarrassed with your effort to make a good impression on his daughter's first birthday with you in her life. he had no clue what you had planned for her real cake, and already your cheeks went hot from the lovesick shine flooding his eyes, big softy about to cry while he scratched his stomach under his shirt.

"you're too much," he says in a shake of his head. too much on a thursday morning when her party comes saturday afternoon.

his bare feet scatter the balloons creeping across the carpeted floor, blown up by him late last night until he felt faint, and ready to be popped in the energetic rush of cake for breakfast. on his way to you, he passes the one wrapped gift of a latch hook rug kit beneath the happy birthday banner you hung crooked even with his help. it was a creativity driven present to keep her busy before she got her big girl bike in two days time. training wheels most definitely included.

any second now adrie would run through the streamers you both taped to the top of her door frame, so eddie made quick work of putting the frosting aside and smothering kisses atop your head, wielding his dad strength to hug you tight to his chest, steering you into a twirl by his hold on your wrists, rocking from foot to foot until your back was crushed to his front.

tucking his chin to mash his nose to your hair, his heavy hum vibrates through your skull as he surveys the usual munson fare mingling with your new traditions, slowing your bodies to a gentle sway until his sigh empties from his lungs. "you mean everything to us, you know that?"

"i know that," you answer so softly it was lost in the bubbling hiss from the kettle before he shut off the burner. "you're everything to me, too."

"thank you, baby."

"thank you, handsome." thank you for this moment, this family, this love.

[elizabethsnuts]

Birthday Surprise

Aaron Hotchner x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Emily and JJ help you and Jack put together a surprise birthday for your dad.

———

The kitchen was an absolute mess, with flour all around the counter, frosting sticking to every surface in the form of child handprints, and the very obvious one too many failed cracked eggs that you insisted you needed to crack.

You stood in the kitchen with Jack, JJ and Emily, the four of you very busy making a big birthday surprise for Hotch when he came back from work. You watched as JJ stirred the icing with her spoon, mesmerised as it moved around the bowl and smoothed out.

“I try?” You asked JJ with excitement in your voice, you loved being a big helper in the surprise birthday for your daddy.

JJ nodded and smiled. “Of course you can, honey.” She picked you up, setting you on the stepping stool so you could reach the counter and stir the icing.

Jack was helping Emily with the streamers and balloons, he was having the best time throwing them all everywhere while Emily did the hard work blowing the balloons up.

Emily looked over at Jack and smiled. “Hey, bud, why don’t you go and work on the banner? It needs its finishing touches!”

Jack nodded quickly in agreement. “Yeah! I’ll put more of N/Ns glitter!”

You quickly looked up at JJ when you heard the word glitter. You loved glitter, you had glitter covering you from your recent arts and crafts on the banner. “Glitter?” You asked with a smirky smile.

JJ laughed slightly, taking in the mess of you. The little apron covered in flour, your cute little face with icing smeared on it, and of course the glitter in your hair, your face and your clothes. “I don’t think we need any more glitter, I think we’ve got enough.”

You just sighed and continued stirring the icing. “Glitter.” No one could tell if you liked glitter because it was shiny and pretty or if you just loved making messes, the guess was usually both.

Eventually, the cake was done and Emily and JJ had to keep you away from the kitchen before you could dip your little fingers into it, they knew you wouldn’t be able to resist that urge.

“Cake lonely.” You pointed to the cake sitting in the kitchen, you wanted a way in there.

Emily shook her head and laughed. “The cake is not lonely, it’s got the icing and all the toppings there for friends. Your dad will be home soon and look! We’ve finished everything on time!” Emily smiled and ruffled your now glitter-free hair.

“Y/N you can’t eat the cake until Daddy gets home!” Jack laughed and chucked his stuffed bear at you which earned a laugh from your little mouth.

When Hotch arrived home, he definitely did get surprised. You all popped up in excitement, yelling Happy Birthday, the house littered with streamers and balloons, and a big banner that said ‘Happy Birthday Daddy!’ in big bold letters, hung from the ceiling.

“Happy birthday Daddy!” You squealed loudly and ran over, hugging him tight and showing him a card you’d made just for him. “For you, for you!”

Aaron smiled a little wider at the sight of the surprise. “You guys surprised me so well!” He chuckled and looked at your card. It was covered in paint, pen drawings, random buttons and tape but most of all, glitter. “Wow Y/N this is just an absolutely gorgeous card you’ve made for me.”

You smiled widely and nodded. “Daddy, you like, you like?” You jumped up and down excitedly, you were so excited to give him your card.

“Do I like it? Y/N I love it! I’m going to keep it for forever.” Aaron smiled and hugged you tightly.

By the time the cake rolled around, you were jumping around the place. You needed that cake in your belly right at that moment. You watched your daddy closely as he cut the cake and got the first slice.

You took this as your cue to get some now as Aaron had taken some. You quickly realised you couldn’t have the knife so you resorted to your hands, grabbing a chunk and shoving it in your mouth.

“Good cake!” You cheered and jumped around the house. Aaron knew the sugar rush he’d have to deal with later but he’d just enjoy the moment now.

Aaron hugged both you and Jack close, grateful for his two loving children. With Haley not around anymore, he couldn’t be more appreciative of Emily and JJ who stepped up and made sure that you and Jack could give him the best birthday ever.

[neytui]

completely fine about this

just two fairy boys

happpyyy (late) birth

@neytui

[guardian-of-fun-times]

Happy Birthday Jack Frost!🥳🎂🎁

[notedgyanymore]

Dp x Dc idea 💡

Jazz has been dating Jason for the last few months the bat family loves her, and she hasn't given any of them red flags to trigger their paranoia as to make them look into her past, so to them jazz just seems like a normal nice girl. Everything changes though when she gets custody of her younger brother, who according to her has spent the last six months recovering from an unknown disease in a specialized hospital in another country.

Danny unlike jazz is a walking red flag, you can tell in your gut that there is something inhuman and terrifying about him and now the bat family is scrabbling to find information about Danny and jazz's past which seems so far to be purposely erased in a way that is so efficient that it's as if it never happened in the first place. The bat family current theory is that Danny is some kind of monster/creature that has infiltrated Jazz's life and altered her memories and that she never had a brother in the first place this corroborates with the fact the while Jazz Fenton existence is very well documented by government, there's virtually no evidence of the existence of Daniel Fenton before he appeared the last month with a fake recently made ID.

The truth is Danny has spent the last six months recovering in the ghost zone from an attempted dissection courtesy of Jack and Maddie Fenton and was being taken care of by his ghost guardians/parents frost bite and clockwork, while healing he discovered the that he really likes "living" in the realms specially after a traumatic experience, not having to deal with humans feels great ! Anyhow, Danny decides that he wants to live full time in the ghost zone and makes a wish to Desiree so his identity both as Phantom and Fenton get erased and the only people who remember that he ever existed are jazz, Sam, tucker and of course the ghosts.  

Jazz wasn't all that happy about the wish, but she understands that it is better that her parents forget Danny's existence, so they can't go after him again also making a new identity together seems easy enough. The reason why jazz got Danny's custody in the first place was because of the agreement she made with clockwork and frost bite that Danny should at least finish high school and get to complete his eighteen birthday on earth, and they were fine with this deal after all is just a few years and ghost children age much slower which means that clockwork and frost bite would also get to raise their kid.

Danny currently is very unhappy with the deal having to live on earth, specially on a city like Gotham, moreover having to deal with Jazz's terrible boyfriend and his family who are treating him like dirt. Well jazz isn't happy either, she loves Jason, but she will not stand anyone treating her brother this badly, so he better step up before he gets dumped.

Note : Out of the bat family, Jason is the one with the most antagonistic attitude towards Danny, the pits recognize him as a threat to their existence and activate a fight or flight response in Jason. He tries to be sneaky and not say anything bad about Danny when his sister is around, but Jazz knows what going on and is deeply disappointed. Also, after six months in the zone, Danny has gotten worse at hiding his ghostly nature.

[oozebrain]

Idk if you accept these types of things, but if you do, art x reader who’s birthday is on Halloween?

Perhaps he throws them a “party” (it’s just him probably lol) with “streamers” and “balloons” (various body parts)

If you don’t do these things, apologies!

Hello hello!! Happy birthday!! I hope it's been a great day for you! Thank you for this awesome idea and I hope you enjoy!

Circus Circus

Art x Reader. It's your birthday and Art's here to help you celebrate it! Fluff and Art being a magician.

This time of year always unnerved you a bit. Getting older, looking to the future, and reflecting on decade old memories that felt like they’d just happened yesterday. However, the weight of the groceries as you heave them from the ground halt your trip down memory lane. You fiddle with your keys as you struggle to unlock the door, groceries in hand. It would be nice if your roommate would help you. He is the one who sent you out to get all of this, after all.

Finally you thud into the door and manage to unlock it. You stumble in and come to an abrupt halt as you catch yourself from falling into the hallway. Something is strange though: Art isn’t on his usual spot on the couch. He’s no where to be found, actually.

“Art?” You call out, heaving the grocery bags off your arms as you set them down in the kitchen. You set the bags down and strain your ears in the silence. Nothing. You hear no sawing or hammering, no crunching of bone or slurping of marrow. Now you were concerned and call out again, “Art?”

He isn’t in the kitchen, the living room. The bedroom door was shut how you left it... that left only one room. Tentatively, you reach for the bathroom door and ease it open. Peering inside, you see nothing. The room is faintly illuminated by the privacy window above the shower, but aside from that, you see nothing. But the shower curtain is closed.

You hesitated, but you knew you were going to get the shit scared out of you either way. If he was there, you were going to get scared. But if he wasn’t, you were going to be terrified. Your hand lingers over the shower curtain and, like a lightning strike, he was there. 

Art ripped the shower curtain opened and held his mouth open like an angler fish, his body cast in a faint red shadow from the window above. Naturally, you startle and awkwardly flail at him in instinctual defense. He laughs at you, mimicking your fear with comical theatrics then pointing at you. 

Your heart was still pounding but you could finally laugh along with him. He holds your gaze a moment before raising his eyebrows and looking at you incredulously, motioning to the object in his hand. He presented it as though it were an object of wonder and awe.

You had been so scared you hadn’t even noticed what he was holding. It was too dark to see, and as if knowing, he strikes a match against his teeth and sets the small object alight. It was a candle, and slowly its warm light captured the two of you. It was a cupcake, messily frosted with way too many sprinkles and topped with a cherry. 

It was perfect.

You feel the corners of your lips blossom into a smile, your cheeks straining to contain the happiness you feel in this moment. You open your mouth to speak but he holds his finger to his lips in a shushing motion. He motions for you to step to the side and he exits the bathtub, cupping his hand over the flickering candle so it would not go out. 

Art sways his head to the side, nodding for you to follow and you oblige. He takes you to the bedroom, pauses for dramatic effect, and swings the door open. Inside is a wonderland.

There are so many string lights you don’t know where to begin. Various types of fairy lights, outdoor lights, and even garland are strung all over your room. You step inside and gaze at all the twinkling lights that had been so carefully strung hither and yon, seemingly without reason. 

There were also dozens of carved pumpkins scattered around the room, ranging from simple jack o lanterns to more detailed carvings. Some also depicted the pumpkin’s brutal death, one having a hatchet buried in it with its “entrails” spilling out of the wound.

He did all this while you were gone? The more you looked the more you noticed. Fake spiders, a piñata shaped like skeleton (that you would strike with caution), and your bed was covered in candy. It really was like a wonderland. But…

Why were there six bloody trick or treat buckets piled in the corner?

With a yelp you startle. There was a sudden pop and Art was once again laughing at you. He set several more confetti poppers off, the smell of sulphur lingering in the air, and mounds of tissue paper confetti littering the floor. He hands you a popper and naturally you set it off. He applauds silently before reaching for your ear. From it, he withdraws a small package.

It is wrapped in newspaper with what appear to be stains of some bodily origin. You should be repulsed but you had gotten used to Art’s eccentricities... for the most part.

Art patted your back, nearly knocking you down as he didn’t realize his own strength. Despite nearly toppling over, the pat was reassuring, its comforting presence resonating in your chest and spreading out like the roots of a plant. He smiled down at you and motioned for you to open the present.

Opening presents from Art was a game of chance. Sometimes it was an interesting rock he found, or perhaps an insect. Other times it was the jaw of someone who had minorly inconvenienced you. You gulp and wonder what kind of surprise you’ll unwrap.

Carefully, you tear away the paper. So far nothing has bitten you, so thankfully it’s either inanimate or something dead. You continue to tear but you just peel through layers of paper like an onion’s skin. It seems never ending and gradually you wind it down until it’s the size of an acorn. It is an acorn.

You look at it and smile. You love acorns, not enough to really warrant such effort on his behalf, but you appreciate it nonetheless. But something is off. He’s looking at you like he has a secret, but what is it?

With dramatic enthusiasm, he takes the acorn from you and twists the top off. Art nods for you to peer inside and you see its empty. The little seed has been hollowed out to be a container but there was nothing inside. You look up to Art and he feigns surprise, his eyebrows raising and mouth forming into a large O as he animates your confusion. 

He gives an eyebrow waggle, smiles, and makes a pinching motion into the acorn. From it he begins to withdrawal something, something much too large to be stuffed inside an acorn. He continues pulling and gradually the distorted object comes into view. It’s...

A teddy bear!! The size of you! It even has a bow wrapped around it’s neck. Though the bow is torn, stained with blood, and has a human fingernail embedded in it, you still love it all the same. If anything, the garish details just make it uniquely Art. You give the bear a hug and your companion taps your shoulder, seeking attention, which you gladly give.

He points at the candle hurriedly, his frantic pointing professing it was about to go out. Quickly, you conjure up a wish in your head and blow out the candle, leaving the two of you delicately illuminated among thousands of man-made stars scattered around. The streamers above are a radiant red, aglow and... bleeding? 

Art grabs your attention by tapping the end of your nose affectionately. He smiles down at you and plumes his hands out, imitating fireworks and mouthing ‘happy birthday’ to you voicelessly. 

You love the bear, but there is something you want more than anything. You lean into him, bear still in arms, as he envelops you. The brimstone in his chest pounds furiously as you soak up his warmth. He sways with you slightly, slowly waltzing in place to music that only he could hear. 

You smile against his chest and sway with him, closing your eyes and basking in the moment. By the lion’s roar emanating from his chest and buzzing against your ear, you knew he was basking all the same.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Ur writing is so easy to dive into I desperately need more!!! Is there more???? What happens to this awful wet cat of a woman next?????????????

uuuh. this.

in reference to this, for anyone who finds this just incomprehensible.

It turned out that she wasn't going to be left alone to rot in peace.

It turned out that she wasn't going to be left alone to rot in peace.

On Jessie’s disgustingly cheerful, rainbow-spangled doormat (an impulse purchase from a previous June that currently pissed her off every time she looked at it) a cupcake, a birthday card, and a note torn from a yellow legal pad were waiting for her.

The cupcake was chocolate topped with a mountain of blue buttercream frosting and edible glitter, and if Jessie's day kept going this badly it was probably going to end up being her dinner.

The card, also coated in glitter, wished her a happy birthday and was signed with a flourish from Uncle Ray. Ray wasn’t related to her in any biological sense of the word, but he’d been a friend of Jessie’s father since before Jessie was born, and that had to count for something. It was like her brother always said: family wasn’t about who you were related to, it was about who was there for you.

Uncle Ray was also, unfortunately, the owner of the building Jessie currently lived in and therefore her landlord, which was currently counting for way too much.

On the note he’d left her a hurried, shaky-handed explanation: he was sorry to miss her, hoped she was having fun on her birthday, and as a gift he’d be waiving May’s rent, which they both knew perfectly well was extremely overdue. However, he warned, he expected the money for June right on time at the start of the month, and if she failed to deliver they were going to need to have a very serious talk about Jessie’s status as a tenant moving forward.

And then, because Uncle Ray was Uncle Ray, he’d given her a little wiggle room: a PS, informing her that Mrs. Hoang said her dishwasher was acting up again, and that he’d happily credit the repair towards Jessie’s account if it meant he didn’t have to call in his idiotic repairman. Jessie didn’t understand for the life of her the psychological warfare that was going on between the two of them, or why Ray didn’t just fire the poor dunce if he hated him so much, but she wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to get paid for hanging out with Mrs. Hoang. Jessie loved old people, and Mrs. Hoang was a hoot. 

She pretended not to see the second maintenance job he offered her, fixing up a dryer and a washer in the basement that had both started spitting people’s quarters back out at them when they were done running. It had taken Jessie a long time to figure out how to make them do that, and she wasn’t one to foul up her own handiwork. 

Alright. Alright. This wasn't good, exactly, but she had somewhere to start, something to keep her occupied instead of completely falling apart. If she didn't give herself a little task right this second she would probably do what she had been doing for days at a time ever since Jonas left: wallowing in her own misery, eating weed gummies and jacking off, listening to true crime podcasts and shopping online until it was time to microwave something for dinner. If the morons in the Brig could see her like that they would cream their standard issue sweatpants. She decided to implement a new rule of personal conduct: whenever she found herself doing something that would make Whirligig feel like she was winning their friend breakup, Jessie had to cut that shit out immediately.

With that in mind, Jessie dragged herself to the bathroom to shower off the morning’s disgrace and wash her hair for the first time in, arguably, too many days. When the hot water ran out, something that she would be holding her uncle accountable for, she toweled off and crawled into a ratty tank top and snowflake-patterned pajama pants. A laundry day outfit for sure, but a.) it actually was laundry day, thank you very much, and b.) she deserved some time in soft clothing after spending the night packed into her catsuit like a can of spam. Then came the first of several trips up and down too many flights of stairs, because despite the criminal lack of an elevator Jessie was determined to throw all of her heaps of laundry into the wash at once. It was sort of a dick move, monopolizing all the washers like that, but she couldn’t wait around all day and her neighbors would forgive her when they realized that all of the machines would spit their change back out now. What, like Jessie had enough quarters for that many loads of laundry? In this economy?

Then she shuffled to the second floor to see Mrs. Hoang, who didn’t care that she was in pajamas and insisted that Jessie stay to have some soup before she started fiddling with the dishwasher. It was a damn good soup, extra spicy bún bò that filled her up so well that she was glad she’d neglected to eat her cupcake. Jessie ate it without saying much, offering a sympathetic ear and supportive scoffs while Mrs. Hoang talked about the convoluted feuds she kept up with various shopkeepers and other elderly women in the neighborhood.

As usual Mrs. Hoang left the TV on while she talked, the news turned down to almost nothing. She hardly seemed to notice it was on, but Jessie’s eye was caught when the puff pieces dissolved into a scene from downtown earlier that day. Nothing too shocking, by Rustbelt’s standards: Ricochet, red and self-righteous, duking it out with some new nobody on the scene, disrupting downtown traffic earlier that afternoon. Jessie ran the numbers, and figured this must have taken place not long at all after she was ingloriously dispatched from N.E.X.T. Had Ric already known? Was that why she was in such a hurry to send Jessie packing? It was nice to imagine there was a reason rather than her archenemy being an asshole, but she knew it was more likely the latter. 

In any case, the new kid hardly seemed like he was worth it. Sure, he was putting on a show. Whatever his trick was, he managed to shatter every pane of glass out of the sparkling facade of the Van Houten Charitable Foundation, a window virtually made of buildings, and send the shards surging across Central Square straight at Ricochet. She was fine, of course, boinging away to safety like the world’s bitchiest little frog, but the cars and businesses around her were definitely going to need some TLC. Hopefully they had powers insurance; you’d have to be a fool to live in Rustbelt without it. And this was a crystal clear claim, in Jessie’s inexpert opinion, caught on camera from multiple angles and everything.

But the actual so-called villain? Pathetic. Amateur hour. Nobody knew his name, for one, because he hadn’t bothered to announce himself, so the chyron at the bottom of the screen could only refer to him as “mystery criminal.” Hardly inspiring stuff; nobody was going to be shelling out for merch of Mystery Criminal. And he hadn’t even bothered to get a decent outfit together, instead showing up in ratty black skinny jeans and a green hoodie like he was fresh off a shift at Hot Topic. He was wearing a backpack, for fucks sake! The only points Jessie would give him were for the fact that he’d at least had the presence of mind to keep the hood up, which was concealing his face to an impressive degree. None of the security cameras or cell phone footage seemed to have gotten a clear look at his face, so at least that was something.

Still, she wasn’t impressed.

“I can’t stand it when these wannabes come crawling out of the woodwork with no direction, no goals, no panache, no nothing,” she said to Mrs. Hoang. “Like, you’re not a villain just because you have powers. If you’re not going to put any artistry into it, you might as well just put your hand in your pocket to pretend you have a gun and go rob a 7/11.”

“Well, not everyone can be as professional as you. You’ve got the passion for it, more than anybody I’ve ever met in my life.” Mrs. Hoang said from beside the kitchen window, where she was on her second cigarette and blowing smoke rings. She was a pack a day kind of broad with a voice to match, and Jessie admired the old-school panache even if she shuddered to imagine the state of Mrs. Hoang’s lungs.

The compliment made her blush. “Thank you. You really mean that?”

Mrs. Hoang shrugged. “I’ve met every type of criminal they make, right? And nobody’s having more fun than you. There are kingpins living in palaces on their own tropical islands who don’t like what they do as much as you do. I think you’re made for this.”

“God, thank you. I’ve been kind of, like, second-guessing myself lately.”

“What? Since when?”

“I don’t know. Like, this morning?”

Jessie gave Mrs. Hoang the abridged version, leaving out details here and there that made her seem extra pathetic—namely, the thing about Ricochet’s secret identity. Jessie didn’t mind painting herself as a victim of N.E.X.T.’s bullying, but she didn’t want to implicate Jonas in anything. The two of them had to present a united front always; that was one of their rules. Still, she was pretty sure she got across exactly how fucked she was, which was why it surprised her when Mrs. Hoang simply shrugged her bony shoulders again.

“You’ll figure it out,” she proclaimed.

“Yeah but, like, how?”

“Well, that part’s not my job. What, you think I’m going to train you? You think I’m trying to be your fucking Mr. Miyagi?” Mrs. Hoang cackled so hard at her own joke that she made herself cough, pounding her chest until she got it back together. “Look, you’re a great girl. I’d let you marry one of my grandsons.”

“You said you’d disown them if they married white people!”

“Eh, I’m getting desperate with this one. He’s a good boy, smart, but he’s got no direction. No ambition. All he does after work is go home to play his video games. I think girls scare him.” She looked at Jessie meaningfully. “He’d be an easy husband, is all I’m saying. He works in tech, makes lots of money that you could spend however you want. And a tough girl like you could really sort him out.”

“I really appreciate it, but I’m not marrying your cringefail loser grandson. That feels wrong, somehow. Like, extremely wrong. I feel like you’re trying to sell him to me.”

“See? You’re a good girl,” Mrs. Hoang said. “But you’re also an eel. That’s the point I was getting to. You’re slippery. You’ll wiggle around and bite whoever you need to so you can survive, because you have to. What else would you do? What is there for you, if not being a villain?”

That wasn’t a rhetorical question; she had a hard look to her face like she actually expected answers. So Jessie scrambled, trying to come up with anything else she might feasibly do to pay the bills.

“I mean, sales? I used to do that.”

“Where’s the last place you were a salesgirl?”

“This snooty-ass jewelry place in the mall. Mostly selling engagement rings and stuff. I kind of hated it, and they ended up firing me for, you know. Stealing an engagement ring with a big honkin’ diamond in it.” 

“You can’t work sales, girl. You love to steal.”

“Okay! But what about, like, waitressing?”

“You’ve done that before?”

“No, but I know how restaurants work. I can hold things. I’m good with people. How hard can it be?”

Mrs. Hoang waved her cigarette scoldingly in Jessie’s direction. “First of all, you apologize to waitresses. That’s skilled work. You can hold things, but what are you going to  do when some tight-ass starts yelling at you for not bringing her shitty kid enough chicken strips? And your feet hurt, and half your dipshit coworkers didn't show up for shift, the head cook is on meth, and nobody's tipping worth shit?”

Jessie tried and failed a few times to come up with what was probably the right answer, and ultimately landed on something a lot closer to the truth. “I don’t know, call in a bomb threat and go home early? Jesus Christ, that sounds like a nightmare.”

“Apologize to waitresses!”

“Sorry, waitresses.” She rolled something around in her mouth, unsure if she should say it at all, then figured it couldn’t hurt to dig herself in a little deeper. “There’s this other place that’s, like, super shady and hires girls who don’t even have to serve the wings, they just walk around in costumes. So like models, basically. It’s superhero themed, and they just have all these girls there to hang out dressed up as the slutty Halloween costume version of heroes and villains and stuff. I figure they might hire me on the spot if they realize who I am, because having the real Frostbite is kind of a get, right? And then I get paid to just, like, hang out with other cute girls and take pictures with people like a character at Disneyland.” Not that Jessie had ever been to Disneyland, but she gets the idea. 

“Okay, so what’s stopping you from doing that? Go apply right now.”

Jessie groaned. “But, like, I know that the first time some guy gets too grabby I’m going to break his fingers and get turbo fired. And also there’s a chance that they’ll tell me I’m too fat to play Frostbite, which is, like, you know. Obviously I’ll just have to burn the entire restaurant down, which is probably illegal.”

Mrs. Hoang nodded like this was all going about as well as she’d expected. “Anything else?”

“Well, like, I have the crafting thing, right? Like, I take some commissions and stuff. I could pivot to do that full time?”

“No. Never try to make a hobby your whole life. You’ll end up hating it.” Mrs. Hoang nodded to the soup simmering on the stove, making a face. “I like to cook. You know what happened when I tried to start a restaurant?”

“You ended up having to burn it down, change your name, and leave San Jose forever.”

“And kill my second husband.”

“You killed your… I don’t know if you’ve ever told me that part before.”

Mrs. Hoang shrugged, as if to say that sometimes second husbands had to die and there was nothing that could be done about it. “He was more of a business partner than a husband, really. Not a lot of love. Sometimes it’s the partner that’s the problem, you know what I mean?”

“I’m not killing my brother,” Jessie said flatly.

“No, no. But you don’t need him, either. You’re smart, tough, quick-thinker. Go find someone else to do crime with you. You want to hang around with pretty girls in costumes so much, go find some yourself. Every big villain I see on TV, he’s got some lay sidekick in a sparkly little outfit. Why not you?”

“I mean, those girls are all union. I can’t afford moll rates.”

“So don’t hire a professional, dumbass. Get a friend,” Mrs. Hoang said. She flicked a little ash off her cigarette derisively. “You remember how to do that?”

“Yeah,” said Jessie, who wasn’t actually sure of that at all. When was the last time she’d made a friend? There was Whirligig, which had obviously been an ass-shattering disaster. Even before it broke really bad, there had never really been a lot of love between them. Then there was Xochitl, who Jessie actually liked and had still managed to completely blow her chances with. That one was still so raw that she couldn’t even joke about it. God, why couldn’t Xo have just yelled at her like a normal person? It would be so much easier if they could just hate each other now. And she’d made a hell of an effort with Night Noir when they did that little crossover job in the fall, but all that had gotten her was the worst ghosting of her life. 

Maybe she didn’t actually know how to make a friend. Maybe she could start by finding a henchperson and figure it out from there. She didn’t really need a friend friend, right? A partner would suffice. Anyone to fill the Jonas-shaped void while Jessie figured out how to go it alone. Sure, she and her brother had been a team. But anyone could watch her back, right? That was hardly skilled labor.

“You really think I can do it? Run my own shit?” 

It was a question for herself as much as for Mrs. Hoang, one of the biggest things that had been pinning her into inaction for the past few months even as it became increasingly clear that she needed to do literally anything. The solution was obvious, really; there was no other path Jessie could take. But the prospect of figuring out how to do it all alone, of having to stand without Jonas’ support for the first time in her life, was scaring her shitless. 

Mrs. Hoang sighed. “What do you like about it? Being a villain?”

Jessie hadn’t expected another question, but this time she was immediately ready with an answer. 

“It’s fun. I mean, it’s hard and stressful and it's kind of scary, but it’s never boring. Every job is a different challenge, and I really like that. And things actually happen. At most jobs you do the same thing over and over again every day to try and keep everything the same forever, right? If you do everything right, nothing really changes. Best case scenario, some months you sell more stuff than last month. But if I do my job right I get to go home with a diamond the size of my ass cheek, because I was smart enough and tough enough and ballsy enough to take it when nobody else was. And there’s no CEO or boss or board of directors who get to take a cut or give me a bad performance review or anything. Nobody can fire me. Nobody can tell me what to do. I’m free to do whatever I want.”

She stumbled a little on the last part, because it wasn’t exactly true anymore. Ricochet very much had told her what to do, had even taken away her freeze ray to really rub it in, and Jessie had no fucking idea what she was supposed to do about that. She had spent years thinking of Ricochet like a yappy little dog, irksome but easy enough to kick away when she got too annoying. And now it turned out she wasn’t scared of Jessie and never had been, and Jessie’s head was still spinning.

Mrs. Hoang cleared her throat, snatching Jessie’s attention back. “You know how you look, when you talk about it?”

“What?”

“You talk about being a villain like you’re in love. You get this look on your face like my third husband used to get, back when we were falling in love.”

“The one in Rikers?”

“God bless him.” Mrs. Hoang crossed herself in the wrong order, cigarette trailing a smoky crucifix across her chest. “Listen to me: you look happier talking about crime than most people do talking about their own children. We all have to work until we die on this bitch of an earth, so if you can make money doing something you don’t hate, why would you let that go? Because your brother’s not around? Your brother’s a bastard. You don’t need him.”

“Hey.”

“I know you love him, but you’re a smart girl. You can love someone and know they’re a bastard. That’s my third husband, too. You’re tough. You’re a survivor. And you never take no for an answer. So why the hell are you waiting for an old woman to tell you that you can do it?”

“You’re right. Oh my god, you’re so right.” Jessie stood up, awkwardly smoothing out her pajama pants. Suddenly she was feeling hideously underdressed, embarrassed to have even gone outside of her apartment like this. She had a reputation to maintain. “Thank you so much for this. What time is it? I need to get moving. I have to get my life together.”

“Eh eh, hold on.” Mrs. Hoang snapped her fingers impatiently. “You need to fix my dishwasher first. It’s making that noise again. I can’t stand that shit.”

“Oh, fuck. Sorry. Hang on.” Jessie immediately redirected that energy back into the kitchen, yanking open the dishwasher and dropping straight to the floor. “Seriously, thank you so much. I really appreciate it when you let me pick your brain like this. You don’t happen to have a cringe pushover granddaughter, do you? I’d marry her in a heartbeat.”

“Nice try. All of my granddaughters are brilliant and mean.”

“God, that’s hot.”

“I’m very proud. I’ll pack up some leftovers for you, okay? I know you’ve been sad without your bastard brother around. It’s hard to eat when you’re sad. You should have come to see me sooner, so I could feed you.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jessie told her, and meant it. “I’ve been in kind of a funk, you know? But I’m trying to shake it off now. I promise.”

That was an understatement. What remained of the afternoon passed in a blur, with Jessie cramming in as much as she could to make up for lost time. She actually put away all of her clean clothes when they were done drying instead of leaving them to rot in the laundry basket, got dressed in a proper functioning outside outfit, and styled her hair and slapped on a little eyeliner and lip gloss for good measure. Then she went to see Isaac, the sweet Zimbabwean grad student across the hall. She’d been letting him use her Wi-Fi since he moved in and had knitted him a scarf to get him through the winter, and he’d always sworn he owed her a big favor for it while Jessie swore that he didn’t owe her anything at all.

Well, the times were a-changing, and Jessie was coming to collect. 

He was surprised to see her but didn’t refuse when she asked to go to the grocery store, or ask questions when she insisted on going to the fancy one that was well outside of their neighborhood. Jessie recommended, as delicately as possible, that he stay in the car while she shopped, and if he suspected that she’d stolen every single item in her overstuffed cart then he was polite enough not to say anything about it. It was a risky move, for sure, but if Jessie had learned anything as a child it was that even the worst circumstances seemed a little better when you at least had a full pantry, and she needed to save the last of her dwindling cash for bigger and better things. 

One-Eyed Polly’s was cash-only, after all, and somehow it always came back to One-Eyed Polly’s.  

According to family legend, everything had actually started there for Jessie, specifically in the middle stall of the women’s bathroom where her mother’s water broke. Yes, her mother really was the kind of bitch who was still hanging out at the local bad guy bar shooting the shit and hustling people at pool while she was nine months pregnant. Explains some things, doesn’t it? 

Anyway, Jesie spent her childhood obsessed with the idea of the place. It was a mythical location in her little kid brain, like the White House or the North Pole. God only knew what actually went on in there, but her imagination was filling in the gaps in the most lurid way possible. Polly’s was where Dad went to find work when every other lead dried up and the family was getting desperate, their saving grace. Dad would slink off to Polly’s when the power was about to get turned off, and he’d come back flush with confidence and enough money that the family wouldn’t have to worry for a few more months.

He never told Jessie much about Polly’s when she pressed, or anything else about his work. From Jonas she had gathered that their dad, gentle and bumbling as he was, had been an enforcer once, what Jonas scathingly called dumb muscle. It made sense, physically; Jonas and Dad were built exactly alike, tall and broad and sort of looming huge no matter what they did to seem smaller. But Dad didn’t do that anymore, not in years. These days he kept his head low, mostly serving as a driver, but he still wasn’t sharing any details. 

In young Jessie’s mind Polly’s was a nightclub like the ones on cop shows, dark rooms with throbbing music where sexily-dressed people writhed through smoke and neon lights. The villains would lean up against the walls, watching the crowd with a sharp gaze until they found just what they were looking for, and then they’d smile and beckon the lucky hench who’d caught their eye. You. And the crowds would part to let the chosen one through, everyone envious of whatever trait had been enough to deem them worthy. 

Admittedly it was hard to picture her deeply uncool dad in such a setting, but it must have worked out somehow. 

She didn’t actually get to see what Polly’s was like until she was thirteen, and that was still too early as far as Jonas was concerned. Before they went in he’d given her a whole lecture in the car, his knuckles white on the steering wheel even though they were parked.

“I’m going to walk you up to the bar and have you sit with Maudie, alright? She’ll take care of you.”

“Will she make me a drink?” Jessie asked. She was avoiding looking at her brother because she didn’t want him to see how excited she was, or that she’d been experimenting with eyeliner and mascara. He wouldn’t care that she was wearing makeup, but he would want to know where she got it and he’d probably guess that she’d also been experimenting with shoplifting. Best to annoy him on purpose so he had something else to be grouchy about.

It worked perfectly, and he made a sound of deep distress like he thought she was being serious. “You can’t drink. She’ll find you a chocolate milk or something, and then you’ll hang out with her until I’m done with my meeting. Don’t talk to anybody else, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Stranger danger, Jess, come on. People are freaks in here.”

“You’re here.”

“Because I have to be, alright? I don’t like it.” Jonas rubbed his eyes, looking tired. He’d looked tired since he moved out of their parents’ house, so much that Jessie worried about his health. She swore he was starting to get gray hairs, even though he’d only just turned twenty-one.

“What am I allowed to do?”

“Have a nice conversation with Maud. Tell her about how good you’re doing in school.”

“I’m not doing good in school.”

“Then you better come up with something nice to talk about, because you’re not doing anything else. Don’t even look at anybody too much, people get twitchy if you start doing that in case you’re a snitch.”

“Am I allowed to piss?”

He looked strained, the way he always did when she swore for no reason. “Have Maudie go with you.”

“Seriously? I’m not a baby, I can go to the bathroom by myself.” Jessie couldn’t even imagine what kind of trouble he thought she would get into there. In health class they’d said that people hung out in strange bathrooms to offer kids drugs, but that seemed stupid to Jessie. She would probably take a drug if it was free, just to see what it was like, but someone giving something away for no money seemed like a stupid idea to her even though she’d gotten detention for saying it.

Anyway, Maudie wouldn’t let something like that happen in her bar.

“I know you can wipe yourself, doofus, but you’re also gonna meet someone and start talking their ear off,” Jonas was saying. “Don’t do that.”

“Gaaaaawd. Why don’t you just leave me in the car if you’re so worried about it?”

“Because that’s child abuse. Any more questions?”

She could have asked questions forever, if he’d let her, but she was getting antsy and didn’t want to make him late, so she zipped her lips and shook her head. 

Jonas steered her inside with a big hand on her shoulder, his skin a little chilly even through his stupid little driving gloves. When they stepped through the door Jessie’s hopes momentarily soared, then immediately crashed and hit the ground like a dead seagull. Where was the pounding synth and the sex appeal? This was just a boring room with worn-out furniture and a pool table and completely normal lighting shining down on a scratch-up wooden floor. The most notable features were a jukebox blasting old people rock that made Jessie think of her dad and an ashtray smell that made her think of her mom.

Her brother steered her straight back to the bar, where a graying butch was waiting with a dusty can of grape soda that had clearly been dug up from somewhere deep in the bowels of the basement.

“Heya, tyke,” Maudie said, unsmiling.

“Heya, dyke,” Jessie said, with a shit-eating grin. She swung herself up onto one of the barstools, kicking her legs eagerly. “How’s it hanging?”

“Same old.” Maud turned to Jonas, somber. “Recluse is already waiting for you in the corner.”

Jessie swiveled all the way around her stool to have a look, and was delighted to see a menacing figure occupying the big booth jammed into a corner at the back of the room. She was wearing a lengthy trench coat that was bulging in the back, with long, bristling black spider limbs poking out at angles that didn’t seem like they should work. 

“Holy shit,” Jessie said, right before her brother spun her forcibly back around to look at Maud.

“Do not,” he said. “Please. I’ll be right back.”

He patted the top of her head and left, hunching his shoulders the way he did when he wanted to look even bigger and wider. Maudie sighed, long and slow.

“How’s school, kid?”

“Stupid. I wish it was summer.” 

“Yeah? What are you going to do when school’s out?”

“I don’t know. Watch TV. Who’s Recluse?”

“Trouble. Mind your own business.”

“Why’s Jonas talking to her?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Does she owe him money?”

“How about I put this pop in a margarita glass, huh? Would that be fun for you?”

“Can I have a little paper umbrella?”

“We don’t do those here. You get the fancy glass, take it or leave it.”

“Take it.”

The grape soda tasted musty, the carbonated fizz warm on her tongue, but Jessie sipped it anyway to be polite, swirling it the way she saw women do with wine glasses on TV. Her eyes were swiveling over the glass, trying to get a look at anyone else inside without being obvious about it. There was mostly nothing to see except a lot of sad, slouchy men who looked like her dad, but over at the dartboard there was a woman that Jessie wanted to look at forever.

There were some men with her, too, but she was clearly the center of the situation. Tall and leggy (in the normal way, not like Recluse), pale and dark-haired, face filled with all kinds of exciting piercings that Jessie hadn’t previously realized were even possible. Her outfit was all black, shiny black boots and a black cropped t-shirt and tight black pants that rode low enough to show off a skeletal stomach and jutting hips. God, even her belly button was pierced. Her whole body was like a knife, nothing but sharp edges and bits of metal. As Jessie watched, the pointy woman flipped a dart backwards over her own shoulder and hit a perfect bullseye, never even glancing at the board.

“Stop,” Maud said sharply.

“Stop what?”

“Looking. Thinking. Whatever you’re doing.”

Jessie leaned across the bar, conspiratorial. “Who is she?”

“Too old for you.”

“Maudie! That’s not what I meant!” Jessie said, blushing in a way that strongly suggested otherwise.

“Like hell it’s not.” Maud rolled her eyes, cut a glance over at the sharp woman, and spoke out of the corner of her mouth. “She calls herself Flechette, like machete. You’re not supposed to pronounce it like that, it’s French, but she’s mangling it on purpose. Dumbass. She’s been hustling those saps for the last fifteen minutes, taking them to the cleaners, and if I was dumb enough to gamble I'd say they’re about to start catching on.”

“Hey,” said one of the saps, right on time. “How the hell are you doing that?”

“She’s a freak!” one of his friends declared, which was followed pretty immediately by sounds of terrible pain.

Jessie didn’t turn around fast enough; hardly anyone could have. By the time she could see what was happening Flechette was already twirling a pool cue like a weapon and pulling off a series of improbably high kicks and sharp elbow jabs. The guys she’d been soundly beating were hardly amateurs—they all had the look of professional enforcers, dumb muscle to the bone—but their lumbering punches never had a chance to land.

Maud whistled, loud and sharp enough to split right through the fracas “That’s enough. You know there’s none of that bullshit in here.”

Flechette froze at once, except to deal one more swift kick to a man trying to drag himself up from the floor. She dropped the pool cue and held her hands up, wide open to show that she was done being a threat. It was a choice though, Jessie thought; this woman was entirely in charge of how and when she was dangerous. Maudie had always seemed unshakeable to Jessie, stubborn and stern as a stone statue, but what could she have actually done if Flechette didn’t want to leave? The baseball bat beneath the bar wouldn’t be much use against someone like that. 

It didn’t matter. Flechette flashed a smile like a shark and made for the door, pausing to throw a wink back at the bar. Maybe that was meant for Maud, a final little taunt to remember her by, but Jessie liked to imagine that it was meant for her. She was watching with her jaw dangling to the floor, not trying to make any secret of it. When Jessie told the story later she would always editorialize, hinting that Flechette must have sensed a kindred soul in her that day, spotted another villain’s star rising. 

In any case, nobody ever saw Flechette around Rustbelt again. From there on out she started climbing the ranks as a mercenary and assassin for hire, eventually working for A-list baddies all over the world. She upgraded from darts to razor-thin daggers that could find their mark from nearly any distance, thanks to her superhuman aim, and her services were sufficiently in demand that no prison could keep her contained for long. Somebody more powerful was always eager to break her out and have her killing in their name.  

In the meantime, the door of One-Eyed Polly’s slammed shut at the exact moment a giant hand gripped Jessie’s shoulder and made her jump.

“It’s time to go,” Jonas said, low and urgent. “Come on, Jess. Say thanks to Maudie.”

“I didn’t even finish my drink,” she said, knowing immediately that it was a stupid thing to say.

“Maybe next time.” Maud’s face was tight, and she was already whisking the margarita glass away. “Take care, kids.”

Jonas steered Jessie straight to his awful van, completely silent until he was back in the driver’s seat and gripping the steering wheel. He hadn’t taken off his gloves, but Jessie could imagine his knuckles turning white. That was a bad sign, considering the van wasn’t even running.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said quietly.

Which confused Jessie for a moment, because she had assumed that she was in trouble. An apology was unexpected.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “It was cool. She’s badass.”

“She’s not a role model. Nobody in there is.”

“What about Recluse?”

Jonas groaned, lowering his head to the steering wheel as well. “You shouldn’t even know her name. No, she’s not a role model. She’s a psychopath.”

“What about Maudie?”

“She’s on thin ice,” he said, which would normally make Jessie chuckle and point out haha, ice, but he clearly wasn’t in the mood. And she wasn’t either, because Jonas was treating her like a baby and that ticked her off, so she did something rude.

“Well, what about you?”

That made him raise his head, at least, and she immediately regretted pushing him, because Jonas looked more exhausted than she’d ever seen him in their entire life. He was getting dark hollows under his eyes, and he seemed skinnier and more raw beneath his baggy clothes every time she hugged him, and that hair that was going gray. 

“I don’t want to be there either, Jess. Don’t think for a second that I do, alright? This is pragmatism.”

“What does that mean? Come on, I’m failing English. I don’t know words.”

He reached into his jacket and withdrew a fat wad of bills clipped together, slapping them down on the center console. It wasn’t forceful, not enough to make Jessie cringe or scare her in any way—he was always careful about that, conscientious to be gentle with her since he had always been so much older and bigger. But she could tell he wanted to make a point about it.

“It means that I’m being smart and doing the thing that will make me the most possible money, even though it sucks.”

“Why, though?” Jessie pressed. “You don’t have to do it if you hate it so much.”

“Jess, come on. I’m trying to take care of you, okay? Dropping off groceries every week is expensive, and driving you around is expensive, and I’m…” He paused, rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Look, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this. I didn’t want to bring it up too soon, in case it didn’t pan out, but what if you came to stay with me instead of Mom and Dad?”

Her heart skipped, and she immediately clamped down on that feeling before she could get too excited. She had to play it cool. “But you said I’m never allowed to visit your place.”

“Well, I’d have to get a new place. With no housemates, so I’d have to pay the rent and security deposit and everything by myself because it would be just me and you. But I think I could do it.”

Jessie swallowed hard. “Do Mom and Dad know?”

“No. But I think I could make them understand, if it was what you really wanted. And that’s another thing I’m saving up for, getting a lawyer if they try to fight about it. So that I could legally adopt you or something, if I have to. If you want me to.”

“Adopt me?” Jessie repeated. It sounded silly, thinking of Jonas as her parent instead of her brother. He was too young to be her dad. But it made sense, didn’t it? Mom made sure she had food and clothes and all that, but Jessie had never felt like her mom loved or even her. Dad loved her plenty, but he was responsible for losing all their money and getting the lights shut off at least as often as he was responsible for fixing it. Jonas was the only one who had ever managed to love her and take care of her. 

“If you want,” he said again. She’d never seen him so nervous. “You don’t have to. But I know Mom and Dad have been getting worse, and I don’t want you to have to stay there if you don’t want to. You should feel safe at home. And I’ve never forgotten what you said that night at the park. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

She knew exactly what he meant; there was only one night at the park for them. The night they’d been eating ice cream sandwiches and watching fireflies when the sky opened up, when time slowed to almost nothing and snapped back to a different world, a world where her brother was a walking blizzard. 

“It’s okay,” Jessie told him, even though it sort of wasn’t. She’d gotten used to it. “But I would. I’d live with you. It’d be cool.”

Jonas didn’t smile often or easily, but right then he looked happier and more relieved then she’d ever seen. Maybe even excited, like he had been worried she would say no and pick their parents over him. “Okay. Yeah. We’ll make it happen, Jess. I’ve been saving up as much as I can, and I think I’m close. We won’t be anywhere very nice, but I’ll find us somewhere. We’ll make it happen, okay?”

Jessie’s heart was racing, all the excitement of One-Eyed Polly’s already forgotten in light of this new development. She had to make sure this was for real, had to make this as close to legally binding as she could. “You promise?” 

He extended a little finger and she grinned, tied their pinkies together to seal the promise like they had since she was little.

“I promise,” he said. “You and me against the world.”