#He refuses to let me have fun and tells me my high scores aren’t real bc nobody plays anymore

[angeldarkrose]

I post all this happy shit about him bc we have good times but in reality I’m done. I’m so fucking done. He does nothing but drain me 24/7. I’m constantly the fucking problem. He never owns up to his faults, he’ll swear me out, blame me for everything and act like everything’s fine the next day. I try to find solutions and he ignores me. I need time away to think after a problem? He’s pissed. But when he needs time he gets it. I love him with my entire heart but I’m so drained.

[h0tchner]

go team hotchner!

pairing: dad!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron is coaching jack’s soccer game & reader is in the crowd! aaron & reader are happily married, but another woman’s mean comments and blatant flirting makes the reader jealous. fluffy shenanigans ensue!

word count: 2.5k

includes: FLUFF, jack hotchner is the sweetest, you & aaron are married, jealous!reader, kissing, family planning, & AARON IN A GREY T-SHIRT

rating: 18+ (for VERY brief mentions of sex and a little smidge of cursing)

a/n: i wrote this for @ssahotchswife​’s soft hotch saturday! this is my first published fic, so i hope y’all enjoy. PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron yells from the side of the field, clapping his hands as his son scores another goal.

Beaming, you holler from the benches along with the crowd. You watch as your husband jogs up and down the sidelines with ease, keeping up with Jack’s soccer team. It’s a stunning Saturday morning and you are thrilled to spend every moment of it with the Hotchner boys. Your Hotchner boys.

When they asked Aaron to coach the team, how could he say no? After losing Hayley, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to be there for Jack. When you first started dating, Aaron was hesitant to introduce you to his son. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you in Jack’s life, but rather he didn’t want to scare you away. You were a 26-year-old NCIS agent and he was a 40-something FBI agent. You knew he had a son, you knew he was a widow, and you knew he was older than you: but you didn’t care. You loved him. It took a little coaxing to get Aaron to open up to you about his fears, but once he did, you assured him then and there that you weren’t going anywhere. He introduced you to Jack the very same day. Four years later, you and Aaron are stronger than ever.

The ref blows the whistle, calling a break. Aaron motions for the kids to huddle in. He squats on the floor to get on their level, enthusiastically whispering, walking them through the next play. Your heart swells watching him talk to the group of children. Aaron Hotchner, always the hero, the role-model, the leader. Gentle yet powerful: he was intoxicating.

Your eyes dart over his crouched figure; the soft, heather grey of his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. You draw in a breath, a memory of last night flooding your senses, remembering how you held on to those shoulders for dear life as he pounded you into the bed. You feel your cheeks blush red, and you look up to the sky, shutting your eyes to collect yourself. Damn. Even just the thought of touching him gets your blood up.

You open your eyes, letting your gaze travel back to Aaron’s body, admiring how good his butt looks in those black Adidas track pants. You bite your lip a bit, feeling overwhelmed with joy, knowing that beautiful man, inside and out, was all yours. God, what you wanted to do to...

“Damn he is HOT. Way hotter than the old coach. I think his son is on the team?” A woman’s voice rings out from behind you.

“Yeah, I think so. Did you hear what happened to his first wife? So sad, lost her when his son was little. Apparently he’s shacked up with some 20-something-year-old now.” A second woman’s voice chimes in.

“No way. Him? Married to that? He needs a real woman, not some child. A man that experienced should be with someone his own age. I’m gonna talk to him after the game, see what his deal is.” The first woman replies, voice dripping with venom.

“I think you should!” Agrees the second.

“Oh, I will. I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Snickers the first.

They both laugh as you sit frozen in your seat, blinded by a wave of anger and sadness.

Some child? Someone his own age? Their hurtful words pierce right through your heart as you furiously blink back tears.

The ref blows the whistle, and the team scatters back onto the field. The ladies cheer behind you as the game starts back up. It takes all your strength not to break down under the crushing weight of their conversation. You take in some deep breaths, mulling over their comments. You weren’t “some child!” You were a grown-ass woman! You had a job! You were a federal agent! You loved Aaron and Jack: they were your whole world!

As you continue to give yourself a mental pep-talk, the hurt begins to dissipate as you realize how stupid those woman sounded. They didn’t even know you, or Aaron, or anything about your relationship. In that moment, you tell yourself that instead of wallowing in self-doubt, you would stand up to them and make it known that you were the only one for Aaron.

Just like that: you begin to feel a bit better. You focus all your attention on Aaron and Jack, letting the game fly by. You ignore the ladies gossiping behind you, and, by the time the kids are lining up to give the other team high-fives, you had pulled yourself together and come up with a plan to put these ladies right back in their place. You just had to wait for the right time to make your move.

“Wish me luck!” squeals the first woman. You can feel her getting up from the bleachers behind you.

“Go get him, girl!” sasses the second.

You watch as the woman walks down the aisle, her straight blonde ponytail swishing as she goes. She’s wearing blue-jean shorts and a white lace top: an outfit you’ve seen before on a hundred women who looked just like her. In any other circumstance you’d applaud her efforts (girls supporting girls, right?) but this was your man she had her sights on. No way. Not a chance. She wasn’t going to lay a single pink manicured finger on him.

Aaron is talking to the ref and the other team’s coach when she taps him on the shoulder.

Oh HELL no. You think, frowning.

He turns around and gives her a small, polite smile. You can’t hear the exchange, but after a few moments, she sticks out her hand to shake his, laughing. Aaron curtly returns the shake and turns back to finish up his prior conversation; but, this time, the blonde woman puts a hand on his arm again, lightly pulling him away. Your blood begins to boil. She gestures to the pack of kids, now getting drinks and snacks from the fold-up table next to the bleachers. Aaron nods, pointing over to where Jack is standing, sipping on some lemonade. She puts her hand on his arm again and tilts her head.

You decide it has been long enough. It’s go time.

You walk down the bleachers, picking up the hem of your baby blue floral sundress so you wouldn’t step on it as you descended.

The woman is still all over Aaron, clearly flirting. Aaron’s arms are crossed over his chest, lips in a terse smile. It didn’t take a profiler to know that his behaviour screamed “get me out of here.”

You fluff your hair a bit, letting it fall loosely around your face. With confidence, your feet hit the soft grass and you head towards your husband.

“Aaron!” you call out, waving and smiling as you near him, shooting daggers at the blonde woman by his side.

The moment he sees you approaching, you watch his entire demeanour change.

“Y/N!” he grins, excusing himself from the woman.

She whips around to face you with a vengeance as Aaron scoops you up, tanned arms firm around your middle. He spins you around as you laugh, surprised, looking down at him with pure elation.

He sets you down and, before you have a chance to say anything else, grabs your face in his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. You throw your arms around his neck and card your fingers in his hair, kissing him with the same fervour.

You can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s hot and dominating: something about winning a game makes Aaron primal and giddy. You certainly aren’t complaining.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands fall to your waist, squeezing lightly.

“Congrats on the win, Coach Hotchner.” You smile as you brush a lock of sweaty black hair off his forehead.

“Couldn’t have done it without my favourite cheerleader, Mrs. Hotchner.” He winks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah?” You prod, cocking your head, looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who would that be?”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking up pensively.

He wraps his arms even tighter around your middle and dips his head down, whispering one word in your ear: “You.”

You laugh, swaying with him for a moment, capturing his lips in another kiss. As you pull apart, out of the corner of your eye you watch as the blonde woman stands frozen to the same spot, mouth agape. You smirk, feeling satisfied and self-assured knowing your little scheme was a success.

Then, like a rocket, you see Jack running towards you with a mile-wide grin on his flushed face.

“Y/N! Did you see? Did you see me make two goals?” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah buddy, I saw the whole thing!” You capture him in a bear hug, kissing the top of his head. You ruffle his hair and kneel down, looking into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! I love soccer!” Jack nods.

“You did a great job Jack.” Aaron says, helping you stand. He wraps an arm around your waist and looks lovingly down at his son.

“You’re our soccer superstar.” You add, glancing between Jack and Aaron with unbridled joy. “Now go! Go back to your friends!” You laugh, shooing him away, back to the group of sweaty 8-year-olds and their snacks.

You stand there with Aaron, snaking your arm around his back to match his around yours. You both watch as Jack bounds off. A quick glance to the side shows that the blonde woman is long gone, probably stomping back up to her friend to whine and call you more names.

“Is she gone?” Aaron murmurs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You stutter, “How... how did you?” You trail off in disbelief.

“Oh please,” he smirks, “I had to stop you from practically biting her head off when you walked over.”

“Aaron!” you yelp, mocking upset. “You should’ve let me at her.”

He chuckles, lips twitching into a smile as he quirks one eyebrow up. “I couldn’t have my wife fighting with the aunt of one of my players. It’d reflect poorly on me.”

“She called me a child. Said that you should be with someone your own age. I think that warrants a free pass.”

His joking manner stops abruptly at your declaration. “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he furrows his brow, shaking his head lightly.

You reach up and run your fingers over his scrunched forehead, soothing the lines into something softer.

“I know,” you nod.

Aaron pulls you into his side, wordless. Fingers tracing lightly over your hip. You knew he was thinking the same thing: no matter what they said, you knew in your heart that you and Aaron were meant to be. Age be damned. He was yours and you were his: forever. Simple as that.

“Mmm,” you sigh, taking in the beauty of the moment. You smile at the clear sky, the fresh air, and the feeling of the man you loved, right by your side. You two watch Jack as he talks and laughs with the other kids. He looks so happy to be surrounded by them: a natural conversationalist. You can’t help but start to think about how he would be the best big brother in the whole world. It makes your breath hitch in your throat a bit.

“What is it?” Aaron gives your side a squeeze.

Of course he could sense when your thoughts began to wander. Aaron was a man of many talents.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You look up at him with a reassuring glance, returning the squeeze.

“Y/N...” Aaron trails off, hazel-brown eyes searing into yours.

Damn your gaze, Hotchner.

You look away, letting your arm drop from his waist and move to step away a bit: he grabs for your hand instinctively, keeping you next to him. His big hands engulf your small ones, fingers entwined.

You know he is still staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet. Your eyes refocus on Jack.

“I was... I was thinking,” you begin. “I love you. I love you so much, no matter what anybody else says. And I love Jack like he’s my own.”

You breathed in, prepping yourself mentally for what you were about to say next.

“Jack is so good with other kids.” You continue, “He loves being social, being a teammate.”

You gather the strength to meet your husband’s famous glare.

“And watching you coach these kids? You’re so good with them, Aaron. You make every one of them feel special. You give 110% of your heart, and I am so lucky to be your co-coach in life.” You tell him in earnest.

“Aaron,” you carry on, emboldened, “I think it’s time we added a new member to the Hotchner team” you finish, searching every inch of Aaron’s face for recognition.

You watch as he takes in the information. After a few beats, it clicks.

“Y/N,” his expression softens, “Do you want to have a baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, eyes wide and hopeful.

Aaron nearly explodes with happiness; his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, unable to speak. And then, his warm body envelopes yours, solid but soft: unmistakably Aaron.

You let out a shaky laugh and bury your head in his neck, breathing in the smell of cologne and light sweat.

He pulls back a little, one hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, in a small voice.

Aaron laughs again, letting out a sigh. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Yes,” he says, giddy. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound of children laughing fills your ears as you grab the back of his head and pull Aaron into a soft kiss. The kiss is full of promise: a gentle pact, sealing the deal. You and Aaron were going to have a baby. Jack was going to have a little brother or sister.

You pull away, arms still around his neck.

“I love you, Aaron.” You breathe out.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers back.

Nobody on this planet could shake the bond you and Aaron had. Suburban soccer moms be damned.

[espresseo-cafe]

stay with me | johnny | mini coffee

coffee type: syrup

pairing: johnny x fem!reader

bean count: 772

a/n: nothing much to say so enjoy your coffee! 📖☕️

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tonight was one of those nights where you found yourself at peace, with the semester slowly coming to an end, so did your school work. countless amounts of projects, short presentations, and group work all worth staying late nights for.

instead of hanging out with your friends from your department at a bar to obviously drink the night away and leave at sunrise, you were staring at your tv, re-watching an episode from either friends or big bang theory. funnily enough, you even had a bucket of popcorn on hand watching a variety of tv shows.

you let out a cackle when sheldon was being unintentionally hilarious, almost choking on a corn while at it when your phone buzzed. a message notification from ten and doyong telling you come to their apartment real quick.

never had you ever speedwalked to the convenience store unless you were really hungry. this particular reason for you do just that was because you were told that your boyfriend johnny had been sick with fever for almost a week. which was a bad thing because you weren’t informed by him or anyone about his situation at all. all you knew was that he and the boys had a camp out at a caravan for two nights this week.

mentally thanking the heavens that a congee shop beside the convenience store was a better option for johnny’s stomach, you bought a set of medicine for him to take after that.

“he’s being a big baby, y/n.” ten opened the door immediately after hearing their elevator rang a bell and stepping aside for you to come in. closing the door real quick he took your coat off and hung on the clothesrack. “he’s been calling for your name for the past hour and honestly if he said he still wasn’t feeling well i would’ve thought of him-”

doyong slapped his friend’s arm and scolded him with gritted teeth, “shut up for a bit.. uh he meant that john doesn’t want to take his medicine and wanted you to look after him instead.”

ten held his pained arm, “exactly my point-”

“aanndd we’ll leave you two alone before ten says something unneccessary. look after him for us, thank you y/n.” you stared at them leave and the door slammed in front of your face.

you blinked for a while at the quick and short exchange of conversation with your friends before remembering johnny.

you opened the door to his room and called his name. “in here.” seeing johnny wrapped with his blanket, shivering and his eyes struggling to stay awake, he managed to light up a bit seeing you sitting by his beside. “hi love.”

“you stupid!” you hit his forearm and he pulled a face. “you should’ve went to the hospital if you were struck with high fever. and i didn’t know about it?”

he chuckled and it irked you a lot more than you expected. “you’re so cute, getting all worked up.”

“i wouldn’t be if you had told me earlier.” you took a thermometer and put it underneath his armpit. “36.6°C. your fever has gone down but we wouldn’t want it to rebound, could you manage to sit up?”

as you worked on him to sit properly to eat, johnny found himself staring at you lovingly. a girlfriend whose major was nursing and for you to look after him brought happy jitters in his stomach. he knew he scored high points in having you.

after having a few spoonfuls of congee, he again found himself smiling stupidly at you. you looked at him with brows knitted as he refused to take medicine.

and that’s where you figured him out.

“you’re not really sick, aren’t you love?” you sat back and he mirrored you, laughing his heart out as you grumpily put the box of pills aside. “you idiot. im leaving.”

you stood up and your full body was pulled back, turning you around so you could face him. johnny’s arms were wrapped around you gently in an embrace, his chin on your shoulder as he pulled you closer. you pursed your lips, “you must be having fun teasing me like that.” your arms wrapped around him as well. “i don’t like it.”

his cheek pressed on your temple, “i don’t like it when you’re not around. you’ve been busy with school work that you left me hanging.”

“sorry. what do you want me to do?” you ruffled his hair before taking a good look at him until he hugged you once again.

“stay with me tonight.” he pressed a kiss on your forehead.

“okay.”

[jjmaybanksbaby]

enamel pins, school dances and summer movie nights

or: alternatively, i hate everybody but you

pairing: kiara carrera x rafe cameron (platonic)

warning: cursing, underage drinking, some fighting, rafe cameron being sappy because that deserves a tw of its own

word count: 7.2k words

MASTERLIST

"I’m so glad that they’re still doing this. Keep calm. Carry on," Kiara said to the boys as she stuffed the change from their tickets back into her wallet.

It would have been an understatement to say that JJ and Pope hadn’t been eager to attend the outdoor movie night hosted by the Island Club. In fact, they'd spend thirty minutes listing all the things they would rather do when Kiara proposed the idea. She'd let them grumble about going for the better part of an hour since she knew there was no way the pogues would let her go to something on Figure Eight alone. Pogues always had each other's backs, always. Kiara figured the least she could do was pay their entry fee. Plus, she knew JJ and Pope didn't exactly have extra cash laying around for movie nights.

She would have dragged all three of the boys with her but John B hadn't been back to the chateau all day. Since the cell towers were still down thanks to the hurricane, she could only guess where he was.

"Welcome to the summer movie series. All proceeds go to...." The announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers as Kiara lead the boys to an empty space in the middle of the crowd.

"Back to OBX life. You know? Aren’t you guys glad that I made you come?" She really didn't have to ask, she was already sure of their answer.

"Ecstatic," Pope responded, his tone clearly lacking enthusiasm.

"My couch was pretty comfy, I’ll be honest," JJ echoed.

"We’re out of the green zone, man," Pope leaned over, commenting to JJ, out of earshot of Kiara. She didn't know about Topper's boat and Pope wasn't really interesting in bringing her in as another accessory to the crime.

"Dude, tranquilo, okay?" JJ whispered back.

"We're in the middle of Kooklandia. This is the last place I wanted to be."

"Shut up, Pope," JJ snapped, his wide eyes with warning. This was Kiara's thing, they weren't gonna let the Shakespearesque fued between Kooks and Pogues ruin her fun.

-

"Hey, uh…can I get two Pepsis, pleases?" Kiara asked the employee currently manning the snack bar.

"Sure," he replied.

Kiara slide the money for the sodas across the counter and took the cold drinks, watching Rafe slowly approaching from out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey, Kie," Rafe said. Kie felt her pulse spike at a nickname he'd originally given her. "Hey, what’s up? How are you?"

"I’m fine," she replied, intentionally angling her body away from him, her gaze resting anywhere but on him. For someone whose presence she uses to be able to relax in, now the sight of Rafe put her on edge.

"Good, good. Um...Tell your boy that we know what he did." Rafe held her stare and Kiara couldn't stop her lip from curling up in contempt.

"Sorry, what boy are you talking about?"

"Uh, he’ll know." Rafe smiled as if this conversation was bringing him some wicked sense of pleasure.

Rafe opened his mouth as to say something else but Kiara turned away from him. "Bye," he called to her as she walked away.

"Douche," Kiara said, loud enough that she was sure he would still hear her. She threw a glance over her shoulder, feeling Rafe's eyes still watching her.

-

Kiara handed Pope a Pepsi. "Just saw Rafe, and he said, and I quote, 'Tell your boy that we know what he did.' What is that?" She finished, handing JJ the second soda.

"Um...Where is he?" JJ asked back.

"Right there." Pope and JJ's heads turned around to look with her.

"Great the whole death squad," Pope said.

JJ grabbed the top of Pope's head, knocking his snapback off as he forced it forward. "Don’t stare, bro," JJ paused. "Just warning you, bro. If they corner me, I’m coming out swinging, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Pope agreed.

"Slice and dicin’. I’m on edge right now, okay? If that doesn’t work, I got this right here." JJ held up his worn backpack.

Fucking hell, Kiara thought. He brought the gun.

"Yeah, yeah. So, we just gotta stay in the group. They can’t come get us if we’re in the group," Pope remarked.

"Like a school of fish.”

"Stay in the school. Can’t leave the school. Stay in school," Pope repeated to himself.

"I’m sorry JJ…" Kiara interrupted. "Please tell me that you did not bring a gun here. JJ, there are kids."

"No Kie! I didn’t bring the gun. Everything’s fine, okay?" JJ assured, his frantic tone betraying him.

"Oh wow, thank you. That’s really convincing. I love that JJ." Kiara looked from JJ to Pope, trying to assess what kind of trouble they’d caused now. "Founding principle, you guys. No secrets amongst Pogues. What is Rafe talking about?"

Pope leaned it, bringing his face closer to Kiara's. "Kie, it might go down tonight."

"What does that mean?" Their vagueness was making Kiara extra suspicious. "'Might go down tonight.' What did y’all do?"

The boys look at each other, neither of supplying any answers to Kiara's questioning.

"Deny, deny, deny," JJ said quietly to Pope under his breath.

The opening score of The Addams Family cracked through the weathered speakers forcing an end to the conversation. A memory popped into Kiara’s head before she had time to stop it. This was Sarah Cameron’s favorite movie. Sarah used to mouth the lines along with the actors every time they watched it together.

There were a lot of glamorous parts of being best friends with the Kook-queen Sarah Cameron. When they walked down the shiny hallways of the Kook Academy literally arm-in-arm peoples' heads turned and watched them go by. All the mean girls with their once snarky remarks were suddenly complimenting Kiara's "unique style," begging her to tell them where she bought her clothes. (In truth, most of it was actaully thrifted since that was much more eco-friendly.) Plus there was the way Sarah swiped her Daddy's black card without a second thought. Kiara’s family lived on Figure Eight, they were a part of the Island Club but they would never have the kind of east coast old money the Cameron's had.

It wasn’t something Kiara usually minded. The whole money thing. Kiara never saw herself as less than because she didn’t wear a watch that cost as much as college tuition on her wrist. But it was more than that: Kiara never really saw herself as much of a Kook to begin. She didn’t want that lifestyle. She never had. It was her parents who pushed it on her. Her mom had grown up under the crystal chandeliers and ever-watchful eyes. She’d debuted into Outer Banks high society at the age of seventeen like every Kook at that age still did. An action which Kiara scoffed at. Her mom was fully prepared to be another success story of the ring-before-spring pipeline, returning to the Outer Banks after four years of college with an MRS degree and a husband who would be balding by his early forties.

But in a Hollywood-worthy meet-cute that involved one drunk sorority girl and her vodka-induced need for pancakes, Mike Carrera stumbled into Anna's life.

Mike Carrera was the opposite of Anna in every way that counted. His whole life had been hard work and grit, fighting for the things that were rightfully his and taking them when people still refused to hand them over. He had a pipe dream of owning his own restaurant, a borderline fantasy that he was dead-set on making sure came true. Anna loved him and he loved her right back. They eloped to Vegas the week after graduation even though own Anna’s mother was halfway through planning the wedding. They bought cheap rings and a second-hand dress since they were still living paycheck to paycheck. Though the bright lights of Vegas had made the impromptu wedding seem a bit more glamorous than it really was, they both knew deep down their love was the real thing. They promised each other till death do us part and meant it.

When Anna found out she was pregnant, she talked Mike into going back to the Outer Bank. Anna swore up and down the move was only so her parents could help with the baby. They'd live on the cut, work for what they deserved and be happy. Then Anna's parents bought them a house on Figure Eight as a wedding gift and Sunday dinners at the Island club became protocol. Anna slipped back into her life as a Kook and brought Mike with her. When the restaurant turned into the tourist hot spot, the zeros in their bank accounts started growing. The Carrera's got rich but their money could never compete with the trust-fond generational wealth of their fellow Kooks.

The Outer Banks only had one elementary school. All the kids on the island were thrown together at an age where no one yet realized the lines between the haves and have nots. Fifth grade was when it got messy. Every fall the class size heading to the Kildare County Middle School dropped by half when all the Kooks transferred to St. Andrews “Kook” Academy. A breeding ground for Ivy-league-bound eighteen-year-olds who lived with the cushions of their parents' bank accounts.

Kiara begged her parents not to make her go to the Kook Academy. She would have rather died than leave her best friends, Bea and Joey, who were both Pogues and staying at KDMS. She didn't realize that middle school would rip the three of them apart. By eighth grade, Kiara had her new friends. Pope Heyward, John B. and JJ Maybank, but he still went by Junior back then. Even if they were bothered by Kiara's status as half-Kook, in the same way Bea and Joey had been, they never showed it.

Mike and Anna didn't see the need to send Kiara to St. Andrews if she didn't want to go but as high school inched closed with every year, the whispers about the Kook in public school grew louder. The summer before freshman year, her parents offered her a deal - though it was hardly a fair one in Kiara's mind. She could either stay at Kildare County High School but she'd have to work in the restaurant in her free time or she could go to St. Andrews with complete freedom for a year. Kiara knew her parents wanted her to transfer so she caved and agreed to a year at St. Andrews to make them happy. Anna prayed her daughter would find her people at St. Andrews and that one year would turn into four but Kiara knew she had already found her people and was counting down the days till she could go back to them. It was only when Sarah Cameron decided the new girl might be cool that Kiara stopped marking each passing day with a big red x.

-

There was less than a week left in their Christmas break and Kiara was seated across from Sarah at the Cameron's dining room table bent over her practice problems for Mr. Harrings' freshman science. He infamously gave out the hardest pop quiz of the year the first day back after break and Kiara's grade couldn't take her failing it.

"What’s avocado’s number?” Sarah asked, looking up from her paper, her pen frozen in midair.

“What’s what?” said Kiara, thoroughly confused at Sarah’s question.

“You know,” Sarah paused, scanning Kiara’s face for any sign of understanding. “Avogadro’s number. Some kid in my class thought the dude’s name was avocado so we’ve been calling it avocado’s number since.”

“Ah, Avogadro’s number,” Kiara repeated, shifting her papers around until she found the one with all the formulas and constants written on it. “Six point zero two two one four zero seven six times ten to the twenty-second power.”

Sarah punched the numbers into her calculator. “Thanks, babes.”

“Of course.”

Rafe’s heavy footsteps carried through the Cameron’s massive house announcing his arrival home. He strolled into the room, a thick stack of papers in one hand and a garment bag draped over the opposite arm.

“Hey loser,” Sarah said, not inspired enough by her brother's presence to look up from her work.

“Hi Rafe,” Kiara echoed. "Where you been?"

"Being Ward's errand boy. I forgot the key to his office where I was supposed to drop off this contract so he's gonna kill me for that. But," Rafe paused digging into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet pouch. "Merry late Christmas," he finished, handing the bag to Kie. "I saw it and I thought you'd like it."

Kiara reached into the pouch pulling out a small enamel pin of the earth, shaped into a heart with the word "love" in silver written over it. Kie smoothed her thumb over the cold metal.

"You know since you're gonna save the planet and everything," Rafe added.

"Thank you. I love it!" Kiara jumped up from her chair, throwing her arms around his waist wrapping him a hug.

"No problem, Kie." Rafe said.

"Hey, I'm trying to save our planet too." Sarah pipped up.

"Shut up, Sarah," Rafe cracked. "I gave you your Christmas present last week."

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him, Rafe doing the same in return.

"What are you guys working on?" Rafe asked.

"Science," Kiara replied, reaching down to grab her backpack from underneath the table.

"Is that for Mr. Harrings' class?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," Kie said, half distracting by trying to decide which spot to put her new pin in.

"I think I might still have my old test from that class if you want them.”

Sarah's head snapped up at the offer. "No way."

"Sound any more surprised, Sarah. I was offering them to Kiara anyway, snob," Rafe shot back.

"I'll share," Kie assured her best friend.

Kiara followed Rafe up the grand staircase, flopping on Rafe's bed while he searched for his old work.

"Henry Spiegel was talking about taking you to a he formal in the locker room before we left for break," Rade relied from inside his closet.

"Isn't he the freshman who made varsity lacrosse?" Kiara asked back. She contemplated the idea of going to St. Andrews' Winter Formal with him. Henry was nice enough, plus he was pretty good-looking. She could stand going with him.

"I told him if I found out he'd asked you, I'd make sure he missed the next three games because of a black eye."

"Rafe."

"What? Do you really think I'm gonna let some dweeb with half a brain who only wants to get in your pants take my little sisters to formal?"

"Who am I supposed to take?” She shot back.

“I don’t know. Not him,” Rafe said, emerging, a small stack of papers in hand.

“You know Denny asked Sarah last week.”

“I know.”

Kiara paused, “You will you take?”

Rafe shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Maybe Ashely M. Seniors don’t really go to the actual dance.”

Kie took the pages of old test for Rafe’s outstretched arm and riffled through them. His name was scribbled on the top of each one in his messy handwriting.

Her eyes drifted up to the Duke basketball poster in the corner of Rafe’s room.

“When do you hear from them?” Kie asked.

“March,” said Rafe, his voice void of emotion.

“I know you’ll get in.”

"My dad'll make sure of it.” Rafe sat down on the bed next to Kiara.

“You don’t know that.”

“I found a card addressed to Ward from the Dean of Student last week thanking him for 'the generous donation from such a valued alumni.'”

Kie's head dropped to rest on Rafe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well he’s a dick.” Rafe’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, reading the text on the screen. “I gotta go. I told the boys we’d go hit at the Club tonight.”

“Thanks again for these.” Kie held up the papers. “And for the pin," she added.

“Mr. Harrings always includes the names of the scientists from the unit as bonus questions. Don’t forget to look those up,” Rafe said as he stood up from the bed. "See you around, Kie." He placed a small protective kiss on her forehead before he headed back downstairs.

-

"JJ?" Pope slapped JJ's shin to get his attention.

"What?" JJ whispered back over the sounds of the movie.

"I gotta take a piss.”

"Hold it."

"I can’t hold it. I drank too much soda."

"It’s too exposed. They’ll totally see us."

"I gotta go," Pope pleaded. He peered behind him to see Rafe, Topper, and Kelce still parked in the same spots at the back of the crowd. "They’re blocking the bathrooms," Pope added.

JJ looked around, thinking up a Plan B. "Alright. Come here. I know where.”

"Hey, where y’all going?" Kiara asked, turning her attention away from the movie.

"We gotta wring it out," JJ responded deadpan.

"What? You gonna hold it for each other," Kiara questioned, disgusted at the thought.

JJ shrugged off the comment and lead Pope through the crowd, the two of them ducking behind a large oak tree.

Kiara turned back to the movie playing on the giant screen, leaving the boys to their own devices. Besides, they wouldn't dare start something with all the people around. They were idiots but they knew better than that.

"Crap," Kiara cursed under her breath when Rafe trailed by Topper and Kelce brushed by her, heading in the same direction Pope and JJ had went. She watched their figures disappear behind the screen before she jumped up from her seat.

JJ's gun, the thought flew her mind.

She picked up his backpack with no intention to use it but better safe than sorry. Especially when it came to those Kooks in particular.

"Hey, kick his ass, Top!" Kiara heard Rafe yell as she rounded the corner.

Kiara felt a full-fledged panic run through her body as she took in the sight. Kelce had pinned JJ's arm behind his back and was Rafe pounded his fist into JJ’s face. A foot away, Pope was barely holding off Topper. Whatever Pope and JJ had done had obviously crossed a line.

Kiara ran in without another thought, swinging JJ's backpack in front of her. "Let go of him, Topper! Fascist asshole!" She screamed at him.

Topper grabbed the bag from her, ripping it out of Kiara's hand and throwing it aside. Kiara jumped on Topper's back, desperate to distract him.

"Hey listen, Pope," Topper yelled over the sounds of the movie. "All you gotta do is accept a little personal responsibility."

"Screw you, kook," Pope spit back.

Kiara felt arms wrap around her waist, yanking her off of Topper. The too-familiar scents of Rafe's cologne filled her nose and his breath was hot on her cheek.

She kicked her legs struggling against him, "Let go of me, Rafe."

"Stay out of this, Kiara," he warned, tossing her onto the ground. His gaze fixed on her for a second before turning away. Kiara swore she saw a look of guilt flash across Rafe's face, wordlessly apologizing for tossing her away so harshly but she didn’t have time to think about that while her boys were still in trouble.

"Kie! You okay?" Pope yelled, struggling against Topper who had wrapped his arm around Pope's neck.

"Come on, man. Just admit it," Topper shouted. "Admit you did it, bitch!"

JJ's backpack had conveniently landed close to where Kiara lay. She rolled over, pushing herself onto her knees and crawling over to the backpack. She riffled through it, her hand landing on the cold mental of the gun.

"You don't mess with me, Pogue! You hear me?" Topper continued. Kiara looked up at Topper's face which showed no signs of mercy. Meanwhile, Rafe's fist smashed into JJ's face again and again. The situation was getting worse by the second. “I'm gonna give you one chance. One chance, Pope. One chance. Come on! One!"

Kiara dropped the gun back into the backpack pulling out JJ's lighter instead, two Js craved onto the surface. She had to go big to stop Rafe, Topper and Kelce. Kiara crawled over to the edge of the sheet the movie was being projected off. Fuck, this has to work.

"Finish him off, Top!" Rafe directed.

Kie flicked on the lighter, the wind blowing out the flame the first few times. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed the edge of the sheet and held the blue flame up to it. The fire lit up her face as it took hold, spreading faster than she had expected. The crowd yelped, scrambling away as the orange flames climbed toward the sky.

"Guys! Fire!" Rafe yelled, taking in the sight.

"Get off of him!" Kie pushed Topper away from Pope who fell to the ground gasping for air. "Kelce, let go of JJ!"

"Let's get out of here," Rafe started, fleeing the scene. The other Kooks not far behind him.

"You good?" Kiara asked Pope helping him off the ground. "We're okay." She assured. Her heart was racing, her hands still shaking.

"You're a freakin' idiot," Pope responded.

"I saved your ass. Come on." Kiara threw her arm around Pope's shoulder, leading him away.

The sounds of the film continued to echo over the speakers as the sheet burned to ash behind them.

-

Kiara sat slumped against the wall of the St. Andrews hallway that lead into the cafeteria. The frill of her $200 dress fanned out around her. The dress, in her opinion, had been a colossal waste of money but had Sarah actually squealed when Kiara walked out of the fitting room in it. Kiara had tugged at the awkward way the skirt st on her hips but Sarah wouldn’t shut up about how perfectly the blue color fit the Winter Wonderland theme so Kiara bought it. Now, the sequins itching against her collarbone were just annoying her and Kiara couldn’t help scratching at them, making the already red marks on her skin even angrier. She was so fucked. Denny had pulled out a flash during pictures and somehow it kept ending up in Kiara's hands. The whole dance thing had Kiara incredibly anxious so she kept taking sips of the flash to keep her self busy. First during pictures, then during dinner, and in the limo on the way to the school. Now the flask was lying empty on the floor next to her and her nerves were no less settled.

She longed for her pogues so much the pain of missing them made her stomach hurt. Well, that or the alcohol. At that moment, she would have given anything to be back with them. Back with Pope and his overly nervous tendencies, back with John B. and his ideas that usually lead them into trouble, back with JJ and his flirtatious banter that left her blushing a lot more than she cared to admit. They were her family, where she belonged. Not in the gated communities of Figure Eight with mansions so big they had rooms no one entered for weeks. This whole year had been a mistake. She couldn't stand the fakeness of everybody and everything that came as a side effect to bank accounts with the kind of zeros that could seriously help if the 1% gave up being so selfish. Even Sarah's save-the-sea-turtles-with-men façade was fading away revealing another rich kid who didn’t give a shit about who she hurt. 

The doors of the cafeteria swung open, the bass of the DJ's music filling the previously silent hallway. Kiara looked up to find Rafe jogging down the hall to her.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, sliding down the way to sit next to her.

"The room kept spinning and...uh...I thought I might throw up so I went to find a bathroom," Kiara answered.

"You know the bathrooms are on the other side of the school?"

Kiara giggled which turned into a little burb which made her giggle even more.

"Jesus, Kiara. How drunk are you?" Rafe picked up the flask from the ground. He could smell the alcohol on her breath without even getting closer over. “Who's is this?"

Kiara paused for a moment, trying to remember. "Denny's."

"Sarah's date, Denny?"

Kiara nodded her head.

"Fuck," Rafe muttered. "Okay, let's get you out of here before any of the chaperons see and write you up." He stood up and held out both hands to held Kiara to her feet too.

Kiara pulled herself, leaning against Rafe for stability. The doors swung open again and Rafe's date marched into the hallway.

"Ugh, thank God. There you are. This dance is so lame. C'mon, we're all going to Joey's."

"I'm not coming. I have to take my sister home. She's totally trashed."

The girl's eyes moved over Rafe's face, landing on Kiara. "No," she corrected. "You're my date. You have to come with me."

"Did you not just hear me? I'm taking my sister home," Rafe replied.

"Are you kidding me? She's not even your real sister. She's hardly even a real Kook. I bet she's just using Sarah and you for your family's money. Just look at her dress. It's the same one every other wannabe trying-to-hard freshman has on. Pathetic."

Rafe pulled Kiara closer into him, wrapping an arm around her shoulder protectively. "You can fucking leave," Rafe spit back. "I don't wanna hear you ever talk about my family like that again."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I was gonna hook up with Brandan tonight anyway. He's way hotter than you." She spun on her, stalking off in the same direction she had come.

Kiara looked up at Rafe, her bottom lip shaking as tears welled in her eyes. "Are you mad at me?" She asked.

Rafe laughed. "Of course not, Kie. Ashley can go fuck herself. Or she can go fuck Brandan. I don't really care." He wiped away the tear that had slide down Kiara's cheek. "Let's go find Sarah so I can take you both home."

-

Sarah was sitting on her date's lap back inside the cafeteria turned South Pole for the night, laughing loud enough at Denny’s shitty jokes that it was throughly annoying everyone around her.

"Get up Sarah," Rafe commanded.

Sarah surprised at Rafe's sudden presence scrambled off her date's lap. Rafe reached down and grabbed a fistful of Denny's shirt. He cocked his arm back and swung his fist straight into Denny's nose which gave a definitive crack on impact. Sarah let out a gasp and rushed forward.

"What the fuck?" She screamed at Rafe, shoving him off her date.

"You're date's an ass. Kie's completed wasted thanks to him" he said to Sarah. "Let's go. I'm taking you both home."

Sarah glanced at Kiara, who was standing slightly behind Rafe feeling both embarrassed at how much she had drank and grateful for Rafe's protectiveness.

"But I wanna go to the afterparty," Sarah protested. "She has you." Sarah's eyes locked with Kiara and Kiara's heart sank. She could tell her "best friend" wasn't about to give up the rest of her night just because she was nervous and had drunk too much.

Kiara shifted awkwardly on her feet. Sarah could have a least pretended to be conflicted, considered missing the party for a second. God, Kiara missed the unwavering faithfulness of her pogues.

Kiara tugged on Rafe's hand and he glanced over his shoulder at her. "It's fine," she slurred. She really needed out of this itchy disaster of dress as soon as possible.

"You're a really great friend," Rafe said to Sarah.

"Whatever," Sarah replied, her voice almost mimicking the way Rafe's date had said the same words. "Let's go find some ice for your nose, Denny."

-

They had found the gold. It was fifty feet down a well under an ax-murders house no less but they'd fucking found it. John B's crazy plan had worked and all they needed to do was get the gold out, a job which had effectively been delegated to Pope. Of course, first they had to wait for John B to get back from his fishing trip with Ward Cameron, some twisted form of pseudo father-son bonding. What was it with men and finishing? Couldn’t they pick a sport that didn’t actively destroy the environment?

Pope sat atop the kitchen counter, a pencil tucked behind his ear, his mouth moving as he made silent calculations. JJ stood in the doorway of the chateau, dripping water from the hot tub onto the floor. Kiara had thrown off the couch cushions and was rifling through the desk draws, slamming each one with frustration when they didn't hold what she was looking for. Kiara noticed this morning that a pin was missing from her backpack. It didn’t seem like a big deal but with every passing second her panic escalated.

“What are you looking for, bro? I swear this house is like one of those Where’s Waldo? books.” JJ asked Kiara.

“Did you just make a reference to a book, JJ?” Pope chimed in from across the room.

“Just because I chose not to read, doesn’t mean I can’t Pope,” JJ replied.

“Both of you are idiots. It’s a picture book anyway, you don't read it. Can you help me find my pin, please? It's the one I've always had on my backpack. The earth, shaped like a heart," Kie explained.

"Right," Pope replied, sliding off the counter where he was sitting. “Why do you care about it so much anyway?”

“It was a gift."

“From who?”

“From someone at the Kook Academy.”

“Sarah?”

“No.”

“You had other friends there?” JJ mocked.

Kie hesitated. “Fine, it was actually from Rafe as a Christmas present.”

JJ and Pope automatically stopped and looked up at each other.

“Bro, please tell me this isn’t the same Rafe who almost beat Pope’s face in last week."

“It’s not about Rafe. It’s about the pin,” Kie said.

“That’s from Rafe,” Pope finished.

“You guys weren’t there. You don’t get it. Whatever," she huffed. “Don’t help me find it then.”

“No, please Kie. Enlighten us," the sarcasm dripped off JJ's voice.

“I said you don’t have to help,” Kie repeated.

“Hey Kiara,” Pope said, grabbing her wrist. He was always the first to tell when something was off with her.

Kiara shrugged him off, wiping away her tears with her tshirt hem before the other pogues saw them.

“There was just this time,” she started, still overturning books like the pin might have been under there. “At a dance. This senior called me a fake Kook. She said my dress looked tacky like I was trying way too hard to fit but I would never fit in because I’d always be a fucking Pogue. Which of course I don’t wanna be a Kook, I was just playing dress-up for the year to please my parents and it’s like she saw straight through. Rafe was there. Like an older brother. Told her to go fuck herself. That if she ever talked about me like that again, he’d tell the whole she had an std.” Kie paused to wipe her runny nose. “He was basically my family so when Sarah dropped me like I was nothing I was sure that meant Rafe didn’t think I was worth his time anymore too. I never reached out to him again and now he just looks at me the same way he looks at every other Pogue.”

Pope cleared his throat, clearly mildly uncomfortable with Kiara’s sudden expression of emotion. It was an almost unspoken rule among the four of them that they didn’t talk about Kie’s kook year. It had sucked, bottom line. She’d shown back up the summer after ninth grade and it was the four of them again just like middle school. No one had the guts to ask about anything that had happened that year so it never got brought up.

JJ couldn't stop himself from remembering what Rafe had said at Midsummers. Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a Pogue. Fucking jackass. If he'd been like a brother to Kie, of course he'd know just how to hit her where it hurt.

JJ clinched his fist, wishing security hadn't pulled him away before he'd gotten a chance to swing at Rafe that night. “I still hate him,” JJ announced. “The entire Cameron family thinks they're the shit because they eat from golden spoons or something."

"The expression is born with a silver spoon in their mouth but JJ's right. All Kook’s suck," Pope added.

-

Rafe had wrestled off Kiara's heels after she almost face-planted in the school parking lot on the way to Rafe's truck thanks to them. He'd gotten up her all the back to the Cameron's house and in the front door successfully without her throwing up. Rafe tried to get Kiara to walk up the stairs but she'd sat down on the bottom declaring she would just sleep there so Rafe had delicately thrown her over his shoulder and didn't put her down until he dropped her on Sarah's bed.

Kiara closed her eye instantly and hummed softly, pleased with the comfortable spot she'd landed.

"No sleeping yet. You gotta drink some water first. Hold on."

Rafe dashed across the hall to his own room and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen from his bathroom for Kiara in the morning. He also snatched the half-drunk water off his nightstand. It wasn't the best option but it was something.

"Okay, okay. Sit up," he said to Kiara, setting the water and medicine down on the bedside table.

Kiara grumbled but pushed herself upright until her back was against the headboard.

"I'm so happy you're my big bro," she said, reaching out her hand to tousle Rafe's hair. "It's always just been my mom and dad and me. And my turtle, Leo, before I lost him." Kiara felt tears wetting her cheeks again at the thought of her lost pet. "I just thought he might wanna play in the yard but then he ran off." The crying made Kiara hiccup which made her cry even more. "He ran off, Rafe. Turles aren't supposed to be fast.”

Rafe couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I didn't peg you as a sad drunk," he said, putting a hand on Kiara's shoulder to calm her down. "It's okay, Kie. I'm sure Leo is just fine."

Her sniffles stopped momentarily and she looked up at Rafe through her tear-soaked eyelashes. “You know no one ever called me Kie before you did. Now everyone does."

Rafe chuckled. "Alright, drink some water and you can sleep."

Kiara accepted the water bottle and pressed it to her lips, taking a swig. "You promise you're not mad at me? About Ashely and the dance?"

"I promise, Kie. I'd much rather make you sure you're okay."

"You're getting soft, Rafe," Kiara teased as she snuggled herself under the sheets.

"Never," he replied, reaching over and clicking off the lamp on the bedside table before he stood up. "Hollar if you think you're gonna throw up."

"Never," Kie repeated, giggling to herself as Rafe left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

-

John B's face was plastered on wanted posters up and down the island. The entire county was looking for him, desperate to be the first to claim the twenty-five thousand dollar reward. The wholesome treasure hunt John B. has advertised to the Pogues at the beginning of the summer had gone way south, like equator-level south. None of them had eaten a decent meals in days, much less slept more than few hours. The whole thing was taking its toll but the stacks were too high for them to slip up now. They all knew the odds. John B's word would never stand against Ward's. They had to get him off the island.

JJ and Kiara pulled up the boatyard, the keys to the Phantom clutched so tightly in JJ's palm that they left little indentions. He'd emerged from his house, his jaw set and only held up the keys in response to Kiara asking how it went so she decided not to push him on it.

JJ shoved open the rusty metal door of the garage. "There she be. Hey, girl," he remarked. "1983 formula four-oh-two SR1." JJ pulled the sheet covering the boat off, the sunlight streaming in through the windows making the dust lingering in the air visible. "The Phantom," JJ announced proudly.

"Mmhm," Kie hummed.

"First boat to make the run to Bermuda in under sixteen hours, Kie," JJ paused. "Forty years old! Forty. And it's still the fastest thing that Kildare's ever seen."

"It's kind of a junker."

"Really?" JJ turned to her. "She's right there, Kie. She can hear you. Let's just put it this way. You would not be smokin' weed right now if she never existed, okay?"

"I just hope it runs," Kie replied.

"Oh, no, she'll run alright. She's faster than any of the cutters the boy in blue got."

The sounds of motorcycle engines roared from outside the garage.

"Pope. Finally," Kie exclaimed, jogging to meet him. Hopefully, the Outer Banks sun had burned off any weirdness still lingering from this morning, she prayed.

Rafe appeared from behind the boat and Kiara stopped suddenly, not expecting the sight of him.

"Hey, there. What's goin' on? JJ?" Rafe said and JJ also froze at the sound of the eldest Cameron's voice. "How you guys doin'?”

Barry whistled, announcing his own arrival. "Well, well...." The sounds of a gun cocking send the blood rushing to Kie's ears. JJ raised his hands in the air, backing up as Barry pushed the gun to his chest. "See, don't think I forgot about me and you on the side of the road. I'm here because I want my motheruckin' money."

Barry grabbed the side of JJ's face, shoving him to the ground. "JJ! JJ!" Kie screamed as Rafe pulled her back from the scene. "Rafe!" Kiara struggled against Rafe’s taller and stronger physique.

"That's what I'm here for, ain't it," Barry shouted lifting JJ's head up by his hair.

"It's not you we want, Kie. Alright, Where's John B?" Rafe asked.

"I don't know," she screamed back, her hand slapping Rafe's face on instinct.

"I really wish you didn't do that.”

"Look, I know what you did.” Kie’s voice wavered.

"What? What'd I do?" Rafe's face inched closer to hers.

"You murdered Peterkin."

Rafe's hand flew up to Kiara's throat, wrapping his fingers tight around it. Kiara's mouth fell open in a silent scream as she clawed at his hand. "Don't you ever say those fucking words again," Rafe warned.

"Rafe," Kiara pleaded. Eighteen months later and Kiara could tell Rafe didn’t have a single ounce of warmth left for her. The Rafe that had protected her from handsy freshman boys and made her drink water so her hangover wasn't as bad, the Rafe that had once held a deep sibling-like affection for her was gone, replaced by someone with pure blinding disdain for pogues of any kind.

"Understood? Do you understand? Where's John B? Where's John B?" Rafe asked again, his tone growing impatient

"I don't know," Kie yelled. Rafe’s hand was growing tighter around her throat with every word, forcing tears to her eyes. Fuck this. Rafe Cameron wasn’t about to be the thing that killed her. This rich, white asshole couldn’t get away with two murders.

"Where's John B? Huh?"

"I don't know! I don't know!"

Rafe's hand fell away from her throat suddenly. "Don't touch her," Kiara heard Pope screamed, his voice full of rage as he swung a metal pole into Rafe's back. The look on his face was something Kiara had never seen before from Pope. It sent a chill down her spine.

"Hey!" Barry yelled as he attempted to throw his gun to Rafe but it landed on the ground a few feet short.

"Kie! Kick it!" JJ hollered and the gun disappeared under the boat out of reach.

JJ picked up Barry slamming him into the boat. Pope's fist continued to connect with Rafe’s face. Again and again. Crap, he wasn’t stopping.

"Pope," Kie said. "Okay, Pope. Pope! Pope, that's good! Stop!"

JJ, having thrown Barry aside, moved to pull Pope off Rafe. "Hey, Pope! He's had enough, dude."

"He's good." Kie pleaded as Pope reached for a piece of plastic tubing, pulling it tight around Rafe's neck.

"Snap out of it, man. Snap out of it, dude!" JJ said.

"Pope!" Kie yelled again. "Pope, that's too much!"

"Stop, dude," JJ added. "Dude, cmon! Stop! Stop, dude!"

"Pope! Get off!" Kie desperately tried to make eye contact with him

"Let go! Come on!"

"Look at me!" Kie screamed in one final attempt to stop Pope from going to far. Rafe's face was already turning a concerning shade of red. If Pope crossed this line, Kiara feared there would be no coming back. She already had one fugitive to deal with, she didn’t want another.

Pope dropped the tubing, eyes wide with fear.

"Shit. Oh, shit." JJ said.

Rafe coughed from the floor, blood smeared down his chin.

"Okay, we gotta go. We gotta go." Kiara announced, hustling back the car. They had to get the boat ready for John B. They had to get him off the island. Her Pope-like organizational instincts kicked in protecting her from processing anything that had just happened. Letting her forget the look in Rafe’s eyes as his hand closed around her throat. Three o’clock at the dump. They had to stay on schedule. Three o’clock. Three o’clock. Three o’clock.

-

The single yellow heart Sarah had responded to Kiara's ‘Happy Birthday!’ text with stared back at her mockingly. She closed out of her messages, opening Instagram instead. Story after story showed the party she hadn't been invited to. A shaky video of everyone singing to Sarah, her face lit up by the glow of the candles. A bathroom selfie of all the girls who Kiara had through became her closest friends, their faces flushed red with joy. She clicked the side button of her iphone making the screen going black. Kiara couldn't stand to look at it all happening for another minute. She flopped backward on her bed opting to stare at the plain, white ceilings of her bedroom instead.

She should have been, standing by Sarah's side, smiling along with everyone in a tipsy haze of happiness, not watching it happen via Instagram. Kiara knew she wasn't doing anything productive by throwing herself a pity party but God, she was pissed. She wanted Sarah to know it too. She picked up her phone from where she'd dropped it next to her on the comforter.

The line rang twice before a voice answered the call.

“Kildare County Police, what’s the emergency?”

Kiara hesitated. Sarah was sure to figure out it was her who had ratted on the party and that would be social suicide enough. But Sarah really had brought this on herself. She should have invited to Kie to her fucking birthday.

“Hello? Anyone there?” The operator asked.

Kiara brought the phone back up to her ear. “Hi, I’d like to file a noise complaint, please. Two six six St. Margaret Street.”

“Yes, the Cameron’s house,” Kiara confirmed, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks and steading her voice as she relied the rest of the information to the operator.

Happy birthday to you, Sarah Cameron.

taglist! @surferkie

[moostaronce]

Let’s Get It

Request: an arcade date with Gahyeon 

A/N Okay so in reality I know she’s a grown ass woman now and we are literally the same age but every time I see her all I think about is how much of a baby she is. A savage baby but a baby nonetheless.

Today is Sunday. The sun is high and the weather is perfect. These are all things that help you indicate that today is date day with your girlfriend Gahyeon. The two of you haven’t been together long but there is just no denying your chemistry. A subtle smile plays on your lips as you grab your keys and put your shoes on before heading out. 

You are both celebrities but were best friends long before things evolved into a different type of relationship. You having a career in acting made it easier for you to go out as a couple as long as you keep your hands to yourself. Even the media always just report you as close friends. However, your fan base and Insomnias are on you like Minji on macarons. 

Deukae’s dorm is fifteen minutes away so it doesn’t take long for an excited Gahyeon to call and check up on your location. You hit the accept call button on your steering wheel and her voice blissfully fills your car and ears.

“Y/N! Are you here yet? Can I come outside?“  Just hearing her excited voice brought you energy. 

“Not yet, come down in 8 minutes and I’ll be there in 10.“ 

When you finally pull up to the dorm she doesn’t even give you the chance to let her know before she’s in your car embracing me.

“I’m so happy to see you! Where to today?“ Her facial features are so full of anticipation that it makes you excited too. Well there is a new arcade that just opened that we haven’t tried yet, if you want to play some games.

As it came out of your mouth you thought it sounded a little lame, but just when you thought it wasn’t possible for her smile to get any brighter she proved you wrong. 

“Let’s go! I wanna whoop you in a whole new location.“ She smirks at you as she buckles up and subtly slides your free hand in her own. 

The whole way there she tells you about how her week and schedules went and you just listen with a small smile. The feeling of both of her hands holding your free hand in her lap like she can’t let it go makes you giddy. It takes all of your power not to just lean over and kiss her because you never know if Dispatch is watching from the bushes.

So instead you just listen to your girlfriend tell you everything she couldn’t while you were apart. 

Soon you pull up to the parking lot and Gahyeon squeals in excitement and squeezes your hand. As your taking your seat belt off you have to convince her to let you go so you can open her door for her. When you come around and open the door she kisses you on the cheek so quick you almost question if it really happened.

Gahyeon smiles up at you and links your arms as you head into the arcade. Surprisingly there aren’t a lot people there yet so you go check out the prizes and ticket amounts while before you go to play. You’re perusing the shelves when Gahyeon squeaks and points at a giant Rilakkuma on the top shelf for an absurd amount of tickets.

You take a moment before you just guide her to play skeeball. Somehow she rolled the ball so aggressively it ended up in your lane and you both died laughing as it actually raised your score tremendously. Gahyeon falls to her knees, maybe laughing the hardest ever in her life. After you help her back up still laughing yourself you pinch her on the nose affectionately as you proceed through the arcade.

You both play your way through nearly every game in the arcade before you take a breather to count your tickets. You’re actually pretty close to being able to afford the grand prize! Gahyeon has to run off to the bathroom, so you play an arm wrestling game in the meantime and you get super invested that you don’t notice a young man around your and Gahyeon’s age watching you. So when he approaches you, you startle a bit.

“Hey, you!“ The boy was directly behind you as you won your 5th game in a row with the body-less arm. 

“Huh, hello?” He could sense the uncertainty in your voice so he took a step back with a warm smile.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice you and your friend had a lot of tickets. Would you be up for a wager?“

“What kind of wager are we talking?“ You squinted your eyes at the boy with skepticism. All you heard in most of that sentence was that he had been watching you and Gahyeon.

“ I have a lot of tickets too and I’m shooting for that Rilakkuma over there. How about we arm wrestle and winner takes all the tickets. With both of our amounts combined it will be more than enough.“ The boy’s warm smile became a smug, arrogant smirk that you raise your eyebrows at.

“So what your really saying is that you think you can beat me easily and take my tickets.“ You stand up to find that you are actually a bit taller than him with your arms crossed. He visibly gulps a little but refuses to back down.

So the two of you sit at a table and ready yourselves out the corner of your eye you see Gahyeon looking around for you until she spots you. She just looks on confused until a girl runs up to her and starts talking and waving her arms all animated.

With her distracted you fully focus on the young man in front of you. He has this aura of pure arrogance that is slowly but surely working your nerves. So it begins you decide to do best two of three. Within a five minute time frame you beat him twice thus earning all of his tickets and keeping your own.

He hands them all over with his head hanging low and a small apology escaping under his breath.

“What was your deal any way? Are you a collector or something?“

“No, I wanted to get it for my girlfriend since she’s mad at me. We had a fight a few minutes ago and she won’t even look at me now.“ 

You can’t help but feel bad for the guy but you also have a girlfriend to make happy, so you pat him on the back and head towards the award counter. But as you turn around to find Gahyeon you see the guy you just arm wrestled staring longingly at the girl that she is talking to. Must be his girlfriend, he looks so sad.

At that moment you just roll your eyes at yourself because your conscience is screaming at you to help that poor guy. Then you think about Gahyeon and how disappointed she’d be if she knew you chose not to help someone.

With an annoyed sigh at yourself and heavy steps you walk over and hand the poor guy the Rilakkuma.

“Here, you need it more than I do.” The guy’s head springs up and he looks at you in disbelief. 

“Are you for real? You’re just going to give it to me?” 

“Yeah, I have enough tickets left over for something else and honestly, you look pitiful dude.”

 “Thank you! My name is Jaebum by the way, Park Jaebum. Honey is gonna love this, thank you.”

“Y/N. Go get her, man.”

That’s all he needs to hear before he takes off like a rocket towards your girlfriends. So you wander back to the prize counter to find something for Gahyeon. That’s when you see a really big Gudetama plushie that you have the exact amount of tickets for. You have never grabbed something that quickly in your life. 

When you turn to find Gahyeon she’s directly behind you with that cute eye smile you love. She looks so cute that you have to pinch her on her cheek.

“Here Gah, I got you a plushie.” Her eyes shine as you hand it over.”

“I saw what you did and I’m proud of you. That girl said she was a fan so we were talking and then she told me about her fight with her boyfriend. Then I see you handing over the bear to him and now they are all made up.” 

“Well, you know I just wanted to help him out.” You duck your head a little to hide your blush from her while she gushes over you. 

“You’re so cute! I could kiss you right now.” She says the last part in a whisper and it makes you blush even more.

“Um, I better get you home before Bora personally pulls up to drag you back.”

The two of you link arms together as you leave the arcade and get into your car.

“So, did you have fun? We played games for 2 hours straight.” You glance at her as you ask the question.

“So much! We should go again sometime, their games are so much more fun than the old place.”

“Whatever you want, babe”

Silence filled the car so you look over at Gahyeon briefly to see her staring at you with a red face and the surprised Pikachu face. Your eyebrows scrunch up a bit confused and it brings her back to reality.

“Sorry, I’m just not used to hearing you call me babe yet.“ Even without seeing her face, you know she’s embarrassed.

“Should I not?“

“No! No, you can say it as much as you want, whenever you want! I like it a lot.” She squeezes your hand fondly and settle in her seat smiling to herself.

In  a short time the car ride is over and you are in front of Dreamcatcher’s dorm. You put your hazard lights on and walk her up to the door like you usually do, just to make sure she gets in safely. Gahyeon leans her back against the door clutching her plushie tightly to her chest with her signature sweet smile on her face.

The two of you just smile and stare at each other for what feels like hours but is actually only about 2 minutes. When you come back to your senses you kiss her on the cheek and say goodnight.

Before you can even fully turn away to leave, Gahyeon tugs on your hand to get your attention and pouts when you look at her. Then you watch in amusement as her lips transition from a pout to a pucker, indicating that a cheek kiss isn’t going to be enough today. 

You look up and down the hall to make sure nobody sees and give her a quick peck, but before you get too far away she moves a hand to the collar of your shirt to pull you back in for a real kiss. And you stay like that until the door opening behind her startles you back, while Gahyeon pouts again, as she had no intention of breaking that kiss anytime soon.

Who else would open the door with her arms crossed and a “Kiss the Chef” apron on but Kim Bora. Her face is painted with a playful annoyed expression that has you putting your hands up. You’re not really able to back up too much more because Gahyeon still had your collar in her fist, eyes glazed over only looking at you.

Meanwhile the rest of unnie line approach the door to see what’s going on and giggle at the scene before them.

“Y/N, why don’t you stay for dinner? It seems like Gahyeon doesn’t want you to go yet.” Minji smiles at you sweetly like she always does.

“Well I have to go properly park first, if it’s alright with EVERYONE that I stay.“ Gahyeon snaps to attention at this and spins to face her members with a huge puppy dog face.

Yoobin and Yoohyeon shout whatever from deeper in the dorm. Minji, Siyeon, and Han Dong smile and nod, while Bora does her best to avoid the maknae’s gaze. She holds strong until Gahyeon resorts to whining and she can’t resist anymore.

“Fine! But no funny business.” Even while she’s pretending to be annoyed, Bora can’t help but crack a smile before she abruptly turns around “complaining” loudly about how clingy Gahyeon is.

“Well looks like I’ll be back.” Gahyeon grabs you for one more peck before you go to park the car.

“Hurry back!” 

With that you make your way to the car smiling like an idiot knowing you get to spend more time with Gahyeon tonight. Best date day ever!

[gascon-en-exil]

Mercilessly Judging the Men of Fòdlan: The Kingdom

It’s been a long time coming, over eight months in fact, but now that it may be assumed that the last of the DLC has been released and the fandom as a whole has settled comfortably into its various camps I think there’s no better time than now to answer that burning question: how raunchily, outrageously gay can the male cast of Three Houses possibly be? For those unfamiliar with this fun little series of mine, I’ve been applying my extensive knowledge and experience of gay male sex and hookup culture to the men of Fire Emblem, originally as a way of reckoning with the refusal of the games themselves to provide me with any worthwhile self-insert M/M content. I stand by that premise for FE16 - you all know how absolutely nothing appeals to me about m!Byleth or his prospects on that score - but in the years since my first outing of merciless judgment with Awakening that idea has expanded into something broader, an imaginative modern AU of sorts where all these guys are into men (if not always exclusively) and willing to put themselves out there in the lewd and semi-anonymous world of hookup apps in search of their preferred carnal delights.

A note on organization before we begin, as this material is too long to cram into one post. Excluding Byleth (as Avatars and their spawn always are for this project) there are twenty-one playable male characters in Three Houses. This makes for an even threeway division to preserve the eponymous conceit of the game, but not a particularly neat one. Aligned with the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus I therefore have below the male Lions, Kingdom knight and Azure Moon-exclusive Gilbert, and Faerghus-based underworld kingpin Yuri. As with all things concerning M/M outside of Byleth and his awkward S rank monologues, the Lions have it the most clear-cut.

The Empire

The Alliance

Dimitri

It’s rare that you can get a feeling for someone’s whole life story entirely from watching their presence in hookup spaces over time, but he’s an exception. Once a sweet, wide-eyed collegiate who looked eager to get dicked down by any reasonably polite and attractive top/vers, hard years have turned him grim and sad and just barely put together enough to be presentable for a clothed face pic, much less anything more revealing...and still eager to get dicked down. He’s been dealing with a lot lately, and even though he’s still game for a quickie from time to time (especially with muscle guys, a shallow weakness of his he’d blush to admit to out loud) a single roll in the sheets isn’t going to make him emotionally available. Apparently he’s already well-covered on that front as it is; with his charisma and open-minded way of looking at the world he’s made many friends and fuck buddies and companions who seem half like boyfriends and half like something indescribably beyond that, and a new trick would be hard-pressed to compete with that and likely wouldn’t want to if it means engaging with his demons. Still an enviable hookup partner though, with a full pert ass and a whole assortment of friends who love to play with him and anyone else who lands an invitation to his bed. His cock has left many a bottom drooling, but unfortunately he’s haunted by the memory of the time when he went too hard and nearly caused a medical emergency. Now he just takes it and doesn’t even let anyone ride him, but there are just as many men who aren’t complaining about that in the slightest. Has a very high chance of winding up in a tender and fulfilling poly marriage that’s still open on all sides - he’s got a lot of hot, sweaty love to give.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: body worship, muscle bears, group sex

Favored gift: a body pillow, on the infrequent occasions where he has to sleep alone with no one to cuddle

Dedue

One of those shy larger men who will never initiate conversation, because he’s been blown off one too many times for shallow reasons and isn’t expecting that to ever change. It doesn’t bother him greatly though, because as his profile states he’s in a relationship and he and his partner only play together so unless you’re only looking for friends - not impossible, as he’s got quite the array of engaging hobbies on display in his pics - you’ll have to accept that this bear has a cub...or something like that anyway. Bad at small talk and even a little embarrassed to talk about his expertise in the kitchen or the garden, it’s a completely different story when the lights are off where he’ll give cocky power bottoms and scoffing total tops exactly what they deserve. Sub bottoms on the other hand bring out his softer, cuddly side, and he’s more likely to be using his considerable weight to lovingly press them into the mattress as he opens them up with his tongue and eventually his dick. Is utterly devoted to his partner but enjoys watching him playing around with third parties, even if he’s almost never allowed to sit on the sidelines for the entire night. To the shock of everyone he’s actually a total vers, even if he leaves most tops stammering excuses and bending over for him anyway. He’s usually polite enough to stick to oral in those cases. He’ll never be the most sociable man, but he’s a real catch regardless in every other aspect and is no doubt looking forward to his inevitable wedding and only sometimes X-rated married life. Still fondly recalls the first time someone introduced him to the idea of sex while cooking, and now he takes it as a challenge (only when he’s cooking just for himself and his sexual partners, of course; he doesn’t want to be unsanitary).

Favored erotic tea time subjects: twunks, voyeurism, cum swapping

Favored gift: a chef’s apron short enough to let his junk hang free

Felix

Has a biting retort for every unsolicited nude and “looking?” ever sent to him, and he gets a lot of both when his pic is just enticing enough and his profile is full of enough acerbic wit to provoke the kinds of guys who actually read those things. Claims he’s vers, gets pissed whenever anyone tells him that’s just code for bottom, gets even more pissed after hookups when his partner points out that that’s totally true in his case. Prefers oral to conversation, both giving and getting, and he’s got a remarkable talent for handjobs that surprisingly doesn’t seem to be born from excessive masturbation. Not so great with fetishes - he punched the first guy to pull his hair while he was giving head, and passes made at him during his workouts leave him more annoyed at the interruption than aroused. Disarmed by anything too soft and cutesy so he’s not great with fems, but it’s unclear if this has anything to do with his lingering daddy issues that he’s not working out in the bedroom because they’re (probably) not like that. Not sentimental at all, but he’s probably got that one longtime slow burn affair he doesn’t bring up with his tricks. If anything ever comes of that he’ll vanish immediately from the app space, but until then he’s up for a 69 followed by a good long pounding - much longer than you’d expect from someone of his frame. Good thing too, because he loves making his partners cut loose and give it to him raw and hard.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: “straight” guys, dildos, pig sluts 

Favored gift: high-quality lube. and lots of it

Ashe

Everyone’s BFF, sweet and affable and able to bounce from friend group to friend group even without always having to take his clothes off. Usually finds himself as the token twink surrounded by men who are very much not that, because they value his friendship and reliability (and also his ass, as expected). Did not have the best home life and has probably had to do a few shady things to get by, but with all that mostly behind him anyone would be happy to date him or even just to take a walk with him, as he’s quite outdoorsy when he’s not taking care of relatives or less responsible friends. A bottom by expectation because there’s not much else one can infer when he shows up to bars and house parties alike in the company of guys twice his size who aren’t shy about being casually handsy with him. Still, has learned to be quite deft when the need arises and knows how to stimulate on multiple fronts, whether for one partner or several. His weakness for muscles is genuine too, and he loves a firm chest as much as taking some guy’s thick meat. Paradoxically doesn’t have a lot of patience for dumb jocks, but since he knows just about everyone worth knowing (and sleeping with) in his area and works the freckled fresh-faced young cutie angle with an artlessness that surprises some of his less gifted peers he’s bound to wind up in a comfortable relationship of some kind or another. Prefers to have sex with the lights on, and if given the option will cuddle for a long time afterward to avoid turning them off. His ass has freckles too, but he rolls his eyes when he gets asked that.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: gym sex, spit roasting, breaking in new bottoms

Favored gift: a sensible jockstrap, for workouts and for dates

Sylvain

Everyone you know has slept with him, but almost never more than once. You might have even met him in person long before you encounter his minimalist profile with its headless abs pic hitting you up with a shot of his erection measured against a beer can followed by an address. Gets a lot of action on that pic alone, but repeats are few and far between when he pulls out his phone right after pulling out of his guy of the hour and starts browsing through what’s on offer again and slow jerking. Not a big fan of FWBs met through hookups since he always feels like they’re being too clingy even if they just happened to get horny for him again a few weeks later. Does not like to talk, especially about his family, and he almost never extends an invitation to spend the night. Still, as callous as he is that cock is impressive and he knows how to put it to work. Good with his mouth too, and true to his cultivated total top persona he’d sooner rim than blow. He’s also successful and likeable enough in his personal life to have buddies who’ll play around with him, and he might even have some kind of nebulous long term thing going with one or two of them that they strictly don’t discuss. Bottoms only as a challenge, but he’s not great at it and doesn’t have the stamina to last very long while riding. Is on PreP and uses condoms religiously so he’s got that going for him, but testing after sex with him is still recommended because there’s really no telling how many other holes he’s filled that week. Likes twinks and twunks, but loudly refuses to ever be a sugar daddy no matter how desperate he might get in his later years assuming he doesn’t die of untreated syphilis or something equally appropriate and ridiculous.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: marathon fucking, double penetration, open relationships

Favored gift: a fleshlight molded into the shape of his favorite fuck buddy’s hole, for sentimentality

Gilbert

His pics are neither very current nor very flattering, and he doesn’t excel at small talk although he’s evidently been around long enough to know how to get an open-minded hookup over to his place from time to time. Encounters are fast and fumbling and drawn out more by his waning libido than anything else, and half the time he’ll settle for watching a guy play with himself in front of him while he makes an effort to get into it. It would be inaccurate to say that he’s not a romantic man; rather, it’s as though all his passion has been left behind in a difficult former life that he only reveals some of in long wistful moments over multiple encounters. Doesn’t get many repeats however on account of the lackluster performances, and also because his stubbornness bordering on self-righteousness about certain topics becomes very grating very quickly. Based on the stories he tells and the few pictures he has to show he was quite a catch in his earlier days, but circumstances and being closeted until much later in life kept him from exploring as much as he wanted. Has the potential to end up in a loving if not particularly sexual relationship with someone provided they’re extremely patient as he works through and/or learns to set aside his numerous hangups. There are worse fates...but never, ever call him daddy. It brings up a lot of bad memories, plus he just thinks it’s weird. Kink is something he left behind decades ago when he resigned himself to the knowledge that he wasn’t going to be getting much vanilla action, much less anything more exotic.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: mutual masturbation, actual straight guys, spooning

Favored gift: the balls to get some closure

Yuri

A consummate professional, albeit one whose marketing strategy carefully conceals that fact and also leaves no room for the kind of casual bigotry that flourishes on hookup apps - having a problem with “no fems” is expected from the build and the guyliner, but he’s all for equal opportunity sex even on top of that. Accustomed to the usual array of lonely and horny men who hit him up for pics and dirty chat and the occasional good time, and skilled enough in a variety of roles to perform whatever’s being asked of him. It’s not entirely clear where his own tastes lie; even the muscled closet cases who show up in his messages on the DL don’t seem to do all that much for him if they’re not paying. A former career in the arts has left him with an entertainer’s flair for pleasuring his clients both in and out of the bedroom along with an eclectic skill set that always finds a way to get put to work during sex. He can grind his hips, swirl his tongue, arch his back, and moan in the just the right ways to drive his partners wild, and all that experience also lends itself to his ability to patiently tutor even the clumsiest of lovers into something resembling competence, enough for them to get off if not himself. Bottoms more often than he tops, but he’s vers enough in skill and in preference to pivot when necessary and will probably have little trouble keeping this gig of his going later in life as well. He may not ever end in a proper relationship, but he’ll still do well for himself in an unorthodox way in keeping with the curiously world-weary optimism he sometimes espouses during pillow talk with guys who actually interest him enough for conversation.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: flip fucking, big top/small bottom, religious kink

Favored gift: creative restraints, for when he’s feeling acrobatic

[heroloverangel]

Anatomy Lesson

Helping UA’s top student with his homework should be fun, right?

“Alright, what’s this one?”

“The, uh...the belly muscle?”

You groan, throwing your head back in exasperation. “Come on, Togata. We just went over this. It’s the diaphragm.” It’s no secret that Mirio’s grades are awful, and as class representative it feels like your duty to help him study. You’d foolishly assumed you could bring him up to speed in his classes, but you’ve been sitting in his room for over an hour now and it’s like you’re trying to tutor a brick wall with your anatomy notes.

He laughs it off despite your agitation. “Sorry. I’m just not really good with subjects that aren’t tied to hero work.” That’s an understatement; he’s in real danger of having his internship suspended if he doesn’t improve.

“I know, and I’m trying to help you. But you have to focus, okay?” He shoots you a thumbs up and to your delight, actually manages to stay on task for a solid twenty minutes without getting distracted. You still have a lot of work to do with his assignments, but you feel much more confident about it now.

You take a quick break to stretch and arch your back. You unintentionally push your chest forward and catch him staring, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks.  You’ve always thought Togata was cute; his friendly face and warm personality are a fantastic combination and the fact that you could use his abs as a cheese grater doesn’t hurt either. On his part, he’s about as subtle with his emotions as a punch to the gut. You’ve seen him accidentally knock Tamaki down a flight of stairs in a rush to offer to share an umbrella. It’s impossible to miss the clear interest he’s showing and you can’t resist teasing him a bit.

“See something you like, Lemillion?” He laughs sheepishly and looks away, concentrating on the book in his lap a little too hard to be convincing.

“Just resting my eyes!” He gives you that bright grin again and you drop the subject. “You’re a super good tutor, I bet I’ll start getting the top scores in the class after all your help!” Mirio flips the textbook forward several chapters to a random page. “Now, let’s get back to work and look at the--oh god.” You look down, curious about what’s shaken him up so much, and you’re greeted by an extremely detailed, graphic drawing of an erect penis. Honestly, it’s almost pornographic and for a second you wonder if Midnight was the one who ordered these books.

This is going to be awkward, but you’ll muscle through it. “Alright. Well, you’ve got the head here, and you can see that the foreskin-”

“We don’t have to do this!” He blurts it out, voice pitched higher with embarrassment. “I mean, I already know enough about my willy! So really, we don’t need to spend any time talking about it!” You’ve never seen him blush this hard before, and you’d be lying if you said you don’t like it. He quicky flips the page in a desperate hope of ending the uncomfortable moment and is tragically denied.

You should have known what the next heading in the book would be. Mirio lets out a defeated whine as the two of you are faced with, of course, an equally graphic picture of a vagina. “I suppose you know enough about this one too, huh?”

He looks straight at the wall, the floor, out the window, anywhere but at you. “Um. Not as much,” he admits hoarsely.

You’re enjoying the sight of him squirming way too much. “Tell me about this part.”

“That’s...that is...it’s the, you know...the clit.” He mumbles every word as if he’s being forced to say it at gunpoint.

“And what is it for?”

“...S-sexual pleasure,” His eyes are screwed shut, refusing to even look in your direction. You’re pretty sure he’s on the verge of just phasing through the floor to escape.

You point towards another sketch on the page, your hand accidentally brushing against his. It’s like he snaps out of a trance and freaks, throwing the book to the floor like it’s covered in spiders. “Haha, well I think that’s enough studying for tonight!”

There’s been a very unheroic idea forming in your mind over the past few minutes and you decide to throw caution out the window. “Not yet. I know you worked hard tonight, but I don’t think you quite get it yet.” He looks at you in confusion and you adjust your position on the bed, moving to sit up on your knees in front of him. “I think you might need a more...personal demonstration of that last one.”

Mirio’s eyes flash with realization just as your fingers slip beneath your skirt to your hips. “Hey, what are you--oh.” He watches you slide your panties down your legs and carefully kick them off without revealing yourself. He swallows and forces himself to look only at your face. “Wait, seriously?” You offer him a reassuring smile and sit back on your ass, slowly opening your thighs to offer him a view of your pussy.

You knew he’d be interested, but you weren’t expected the unwavering focus he’s suddenly directing between your legs. “This is still a lesson, Togata,” you remind him playfully. “I expect your full attention here.”

“Sure thing, sensei!” He scoots closer to you on the bed and reaches a hand out before stopping himself. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

It feels like the room gets 100 degrees hotter but you nod before you have a chance to second-guess yourself. His eyes watch you like a hawk as your hand slips down to spread open your folds, giving him a clear invitation to continue. He licks his lips subconsciously and your breath catches in your throat as his fingers lightly trace over your cunt, much more gentle than you’d expect him to be capable of. Your eyes slip closed while he teases you like this, letting out a shaky moan as he circles your clit for a few seconds before withdrawing. You’re getting wet the more he touches you, and it’s almost a welcome relief when you feel one of his big fingers probe at your entrance.

“Ahh, Mirio,” you gasp out and he stops. You open your eyes out of curiosity and find him debating something with himself for a moment before he suddenly grabs you by the hips and hauls you onto his lap.

“I wanna get it right,” he explains and tugs at your clothes. “I’ve been wanting to do...well, all of this with you for so long.” Your shirt’s being yanked off before you can object and he pulls you in for a deep kiss that leaves you breathless. How are you supposed to argue with such a heartfelt confession? You kiss him again, letting his tongue slide into your mouth at the same time you feel him lifting your skirt to bunch uselessly around your waist. His fingers resume their teasing, one of them slipping fully into your waiting body without hesitation. “You’re so soft,” he smiles at you affectionately as he works you over.

You occupy yourself with his own clothes, pulling at his shirt until you get it open and can run your hands along his sculpted chest. Mirio presses another finger into your pussy and you burrow your face in his neck to hide your whimper. He pumps them inside you, relishing the little sounds he drags out of your lips. “You’re really cute,” he says, voice nice and husky with arousal for you. “Come on,” he pulls you back with his other hand. “Let me hear you.” His thumb brushes against your clit and you cry out for him and squirm on his lap. “You like that, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you pant out. “Just keep touching me like that. Please, Mirio.” Your hands roam over his muscular frame, one coming to rest on his abdomen and sliding down until you can feel the throb of his erection through his clothes. With unsteady fingers you manage to pull the zipper down and get a glimpse of him. The outline of his thick cock is obvious, straining eagery against his boxer-briefs and leaving a stain of precum on the fabric. “Oh, Togata. No wonder you’re failing, there’s no blood going to your brain.” He barks out a laugh at your joke that quickly morphs into a rough groan as you squeeze him over his underwear.

“Good thing I have you then, isn’t it?” He’s merciless on your clit, rubbing firm circles against your swollen bud, drawing more of those sweet little noises out of you that leave his dick aching for more. He pushes a third finger in easily, you’re already soaked and dripping down his palm. The added stretch is amazing and you can feel white-hot tension low in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

He’s watching the scene in front of him with clear delight; the sight of you riding his hand and knowing you’re loving every second of his attention might be the highlight of his life. “Don’t stop,” you beg mindlessly. “Just a little more, please. You feel so good, just like that. Mirio, I-” His mouth crashes down on yours again, wanting to savor your orgasm all to himself. He feels the way your muscles flutter invitingly around his fingers, milking them for more stimulation as you shudder through your climax.

You come back from your high to find your face resting against his firm pecs and his fingers motionless but still buried inside your sensitive cunt. He gives you a warm grin and flexes them teasingly before withdrawing, making a big show of lifting his hand to his mouth and happily licking up every drop of your juices. “Pervert,” you taunt, but there’s no anger in your words and you don’t object when hie grabs you around your hips and pulls you farther up on his broad thighs. 

“How far am I allowed to take this?” You can feel the heat radiating off his body, raw desire obvious in every toned muscle.

You chew your lip thoughtfully. “As far as you want,” you decide after a moment. In the blink of an eye he’s phased through his clothes and reformed under you before your legs can even hit the bed. It’s a bit difficult to wiggle out of your skirt without losing contact with him but you manage, and you’re even willing to ignore the sound of a strap being torn completely off your bra in his haste to free you from it. The two of you look each other over for a second, both feeling just a little awkward about progressing into actual sex and then-

“I like your nipples,” Mirio blurts out, destroying the tension immediately. You can’t help but burst into laughter at his outburst and guide one of his warm hands up to grope your chest. Mood restored, there’s only excitement and butterflies in your stomach as you reach for his cock, standing ready and erect against your thigh. His free hand holds you hip to support you as you line him up and slowly sink down onto him. You give yourself a minute to take a breath and adjust to his size, sighing at just how full you feel, with him buried to the hilt in your pussy like this. He’s waiting for your permission, and there’s a spark of fire in his eyes when you begin to move.

You’ve barely managed to set a rhythm before he takes over, not so subtly demanding more from you. Strong hands grip onto your ass, working you up and down his dick with little effort on your part. You reach for his shoulders for support and find yourself fixating on the impressive arms caging around you. You watch the thick muscles of his biceps flex with every move, coupled with the feel of his strong thighs catching you every time he drags you down to bottom out inside you, together has you seeing stars. Eventually you drag your focus up to his face and see he’s equally interested in the sight of your breasts jiggling with the force of his movements, meeting your gaze with an unashamed smirk. “You alright there? I’m not being too rough, am I?”

It’s sweet that he makes the effort to check on you, even in the heat of the moment. “You’re good. You’re--ah!” You’re interrupted by an especially energetic thrust, voice cracking into a jittery gasp. “Really, really good.”

His lips are on yours once again without a second thought. “I could kiss you forever,” he admits, surprisingly romantic as he angles you back a bit to get a better view of your dripping cunt taking him over and over. “God, you’re squeezing me so tight.” You can’t hide your moan, the tingle that goes through your spine at his comment. Mirio picks up on it immediately and can’t resist teasing you a bit. “You like that? Hearing how good you make me feel?” He brings a hand up to your face, lifts your chin to look at him. “Who knew you’re so cute when you get all blushy like this?” You wonder if he’s just trying to goad you into more kisses, but it proves to be a good way of shutting him up.

It’s hard to keep up with a man who has seemingly infinite stamina and it’s not long before it all threatens to overwhelm you. You slide a hand down between your bodies, intending to push yourself over the edge but he catches your wrist in a firm grip instead. “Hold on,” he warns, never slowing in his pace; his cock is rubbing against a sensitive spot inside you with every thrust and it’s driving you mad. “I’m getting really close, do you want me to pull out?”

You don’t even have a single brain cell left to waste on debating it. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

Mirio groans into your neck and releases your hand to wrap his arms tighter around you. “You’re so great,” he huffs out, lips trailing over your jaw like he’s addicted to the taste of your skin. He watches as you slip your fingers down to stroke your clit and between your movements and all his attention, it barely takes you a minute before you’re shivering with your climax. You’re hardly aware of the constant, steady rhythm of his thrusts growing increasingly sloppy; all you can focus on is how good he feels surrounding you, inside you, on the verge of filling you up and you love it. It takes you a second to realize he’s talking you through it, tone warm and rough as he mindlessly praises you. “So...so sweet, and pretty....smart and cute, nice and tight and wet for me…oh, shit...” 

His words devolve into a needy growl, hips stuttering wildly underneath you and it takes all the control he still has to stop himself from digging bruises into your body. He ruts up into you one last time, fast and hard and you can feel his dick twitch within you, spilling warm cum deep inside your cunt.

You stay like this for a minute or two, listening to each other’s breathing slow and calm down. You glance up at his face, a little worried this might be an awkward ending to your hands-on demonstration, but the moment you lock eyes you both burst out laughing. 

“That was fun,” you manage out through giggles. “I hope you learned something from that lesson.”

He nods, wide grin beaming on his face. “Class rep is a real pervert and likes it when I fill her up.”

You snort; it’s a good enough answer for tonight. Carefully you climb off him, your thighs aching from being spread open on his lap and your legs having a distinct jello-like feel to them. Mirio helps you gather your discarded clothes, apologizes sincerely for ruining your bra and promises to buy you a new one. You look around for your underwear, and to your surprise an arm snakes around your waist and your equally naked classmate hugs you against his chest.

“So…” He rests his head on your shoulder and you instinctively lean into him. “Are we dating now? I mean, do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He’s still smiling, but you can tell he’s serious. “I meant it earlier, about how long I wanted to do this. I don’t know if you noticed, I’m pretty sneaky about it, but I’ve kinda had a huge crush on you forever.”

“Never would have guessed,” you joke, tracing your fingers over his arm. “I’d like that-” You hold up a finger before he can celebrate. “-but you have to get your grades up and pass your classes, okay?”

Your new boyfriend agrees without a moment of hesitation. “I can totally do that! I’ll be the best student in the school in a week, just watch!” You admire his enthusiasm, getting caught up in his mood and find yourself pulled back into his bed before you have a chance to question it. “Can we study again? And hey, you should sleep over, that way we can have another lesson before class in the morning!”

You roll your eyes but your arms reach up to pull him on top of you. You’re not worried about his scores anymore, you know he’ll pull it off now that he’s properly motivated.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Supernatural: The Rupture (15x03)

Well... damn?

Cons:

In the first two reviews of this season, I talked a lot about how this season was going to lean really hard into the nostalgia. I had high hopes about the return of some of these characters, and while I did really like this episode, I'm getting a bit concerned. Last week, Kevin showed up only to immediately leave again. This week, after Ketch's close call last week, he's killed off, Rowena dies, and then Belphegor also bites the dust. So a lot of stuff that was just getting set up is suddenly off the table. On the one hand, I like it when things are unpredictable and move at a quick pace. On the other hand, this feels a bit too familiar to me. Supernatural has a pattern. The first three episodes are all A-plot focused, and then we've got to ratchet back the tension so we can do some monster-of-the-week stuff. That's fine, that's expected. But we've already rushed through so many of the things I thought this season was going to focus on, and I have a feeling that the tension and drama is going to drop off. We've only got seventeen precious episodes left! I don't know if it was Rowena or Belphegor or even Ketch's time to go just yet.

Yo... Dean wicked needs to apologize to Cas. That was rough stuff. I loved the angst, don't get me wrong, but I hope Dean is held responsible for his actions. I hope we get a real in-depth look at Dean's anger issues and he realizes that he's the one in the wrong here. This isn't so much a problem with the episode as it is a worry for the future - I hope they do this plot thread justice.

And for my one and only petty complaint - it bothers me that they insist on sticking to their guns with the stupid idea of spelling Castiel's name "Cass." Like... stop. It's wrong. We all know it's wrong.

Pros:

Ketch gets this totally depressing yet oddly bad-ass death where he refuses to turn on the Winchesters even when facing down death. There's a part of me that wants to say it doesn't really matter, because he's done so many terrible things to the boys that this act of sacrifice doesn't redeem him. But maybe redemption isn't the point. Crowley and Rowena both also died to help the Winchesters, and that doesn't erase the harm they've done over the years, but it does show that they're capable of change. If Supernatural has a single unifying thesis statement, it's all about free will. And that means that Sam and Dean fight to make their own choices. But it also means that people don't fit into prescribed roles. Villains can do heroic things, heroes can do villainous things. Ketch can't erase his evil past, but he can do what he can to help the people he believes in, here at the end. I was oddly touched by his loyalty, there in his final moments.

Belphegor... honestly, I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to him. He was a lot of fun. We got that teaser at the end of Season Fourteen showing Jack with Billie, so we can assume that Alex Calvert isn't gone-gone. But honestly, while I was a little sad to say goodbye to such a fun character so quickly, this was the one subversion of my expectations that I ultimately think was a very smart move. If Belphegor had stuck around, he would have felt like Crowley 2.0 in all the bad ways, instead of just the good ones. By that I mean that he would have been a kind-of-sort-of adversary who would hang around in the background and be available whenever he was needed, to conveniently provide a power-up to a Winchester in need. All of the fun and snark gets sucked out of a character like that pretty quickly, the moment you realize they're not a real threat. This way, we see that he was playing nice for a specific and nearly-achievable goal. Cas stops him, and the price is Rowena's life, and there it ends. That was pretty satisfying.

Rowena. I wish we could have had more time with her. But if she had to die, what a way to go. I mean, I'd be remiss if I did not point out how annoying it is to lose one of the few female characters still remaining on this show. It's annoying. But so many women have died in a way that can only be classified as being "fridged." And this was not that. Yes, Sam is going to have his "man pain" over Rowena's death or whatever, but she made a choice. She sacrificed herself, going against a lifetime of selfishness and an imperative desire to live no matter the cost. And the fact that it had to be at Sam's hands was just the perfect amount of heartbreak.

I seriously adore the way they portrayed Sam and Rowena's relationship. It's not textually romantic, but... it could have been. And there's an open acknowledgment of that. Sam hasn't experienced a lot of tender affection in his life, and you can see from his behavior with any and all of his love interests over the years that it's something he really craves. Rowena was genuinely kind to him, in her own strange way, and that's something Sam is going to miss terribly. It's strange, because on paper this scene plays in to so many story-telling cliches. A man forced to kill his girlfriend for the greater good. But Rowena wasn't Sam's girlfriend. She wasn't there just to be a female character for him to cry over. She was a fully realized character and the decision that she and Sam came together to make was one of great sacrifice and integrity. Rowena was a fantastic and surprising character on this show. She came to mean more to me than I would have expected, and if she had to go, then this was a pretty bad-ass way for it to happen.

We had a nice little moment of Dean checking up on Sam. I like that once again there isn't anything explicit being said here - Dean doesn't say "I know you were kind of maybe in love with her a little bit, so sorry man." He doesn't have to say that. It's implied, and Sam knows that Dean knows, and maybe that's enough. It was a nice little understated moment.

As much as my heart broke for Sam here, let's end this review with the Destiel breakup. Because holy moly oh my God. As I said, I'm not about to get my hopes up about anything like a real reciprocal confirmation. But what they're giving us is just... everything I never knew I needed. There have been plenty of legitimate criticisms over the years that Cas will do anything in the world for Dean, and that Dean doesn't appreciate it, and treats him like a tool to use to solve all of his problems. In this moment, Cas is at the end of his rope. He did his best, but he's grieving for Jack, and his powers aren't working, and Dean doesn't have the time or the inclination to listen to anything he has to say. No wonder he's fed up, no wonder he's heartbroken. No wonder he leaves. I can't wait for Dean to make amends for this. I can't wait for Sam to take him to task for pushing away their best friend.

Everything about the scene - Misha's performance in particular - was just so achingly tragic. It was a break-up. It was Cas saying that for his own mental well-being, he needed to break up with his toxic boyfriend. They even played the sad Supernatural theme as Cas walked away. And I think it's telling that the episode ends on that note. You could have flipped the final two scenes - had Cas leave dramatically, and then end with Dean comforting Sam, telling him that they've succeeded, and commiserating about Rowena. But no - the final beat is Dean standing there, as the camera pulls away and shows him alone in the bunker, with Castiel walking away from him. Jensen's performance was great as well. He's so angry with Cas, and so unwilling to bend. But maybe this will be the moment that he realizes that he takes Cas for granted. That he expects him to always do what Dean says, and be there when he's wanted. I just adore the fact that here, in the final season of this show, the problems in Dean and Cas' relationship are getting a real focus. Even if it doesn't go as far as I would ideally like, it will still be so much fun to explore!

And that's that. What a sad episode of Supernatural! It got me feeling all sorts of feelings, let me tell ya. And my complaints were actually not about this episode in isolation, more about my worries for the middle section of this season. So for that reason, this is getting a pretty high score!

9/10

[rpausandwhatifs]

Bastards of the Perfect|| Persephone and Isla

 @ledabunnie-rp @danhowell-rp

“Mom?! What are talking about?” Isla said when her mother walked by with bags.

“Don’t ask me that! You know we have to go! When it’s time to go, it’s time to go. Your father gets it. I dunno how many times I have to tell you this-”

“I DON’T WANNA GO!”

“You WHAT?”

“Mommy, come here. Stop this. I don’t wanna leave again. I like living with my dad as a family. Why do have to leave?”

“You know why, Isla! Why are you being so difficult? I thought you like going on trips with mommy-”

“NO! I hate it just as much as I like it. You don’t plan them. You just pack our bags and we go. We’ve lived on the street. Daddy’s paid for hotel after hotel- and you still wanna live in these cheap motel-”

“Because he’ll find us-”

“WHO MOM?! Who the fuck are you running from? Dad told me that he’s dead. Like really dead. Like took me to his grave dead. Like we don’t have to run anymore dead.”

“Watch your mouth. Pack your bags...I need to know you’re safe..”

“I’m safe right here with Daddy and in this loft with you! I’m not going!”

“Isla Artemis Muir-Cyr...you know what?! Fuck it! You don’t wanna leave? Fine! I just better see you here when I get back! All I’ve ever done is keep you safe! All I’ve done is show you love and protect you and this is what you do?!”

“Leda, don’t try to guilt-trip me when you’re the one who refuses to go to therapy for your PTSD. I’m tired of this-”

“What the fuck? Isla!” Cyr called from the living room as he walked into the house, “What’s going on?” 

“*gasp* Vincent...Finally, he’ll talk some sense into you-”

“TALK SOME SENSE INTO ME?! Fuck you!” she blurted, getting her backpack and stuffing some clothes and putting on some clothes and storming into the living room into her father.

“Hey, hey. Honey bunch, what’s wr- woahh woah! Where’s the fire? Hey! Stop! Talk to me!” Cyr said as he grabbed her but spun them around gripped her harder and gave her a small shake to get her into the moment.

“Mom wants to leave again and I just can’t do it again. Especially since it’s for no reason,” Isla began, still huffing, “I’m not a kid anymore. Why does she do this? Why doesn’t she get treatment? Why do you let her go? Don’t you love her? Why won’t you make her stay?! Dad, she fucks people to get a place to sleep! She gambles, she steals! Moms aren’t supposed to do those things! I’m not supposed to see those things!”

“Isla...come here. It’s not her fault. That guy whose grave I took you to, right? He did a lot of fucked-up things to her and it’s hard for her to come to terms with all of it. You don’t have to go, it’s okay. She did protect you, and she took care of you as best she could. She loves you and she loves the company. Look. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll see if I can talk to her out of this episode.” The lanky man embraced his daughter, rubbing her back and kissing her cheek and forehead as he walked back into what is their bedroom. 

Isla sat and waited for a few minutes through the screams and yells back and forth. The usual thrashing and breaking of items in their room because Leda’s manic energy was so high. Then it died down a little and she heard little cries of her mother supposedly accepting that it’s over and that it’s ok. The walls in this loft are even walls. They’re like paper partitions with soundproofing and heavy curtains. She soon heard her mother, she heard the bed, and slapping noises and her father’s name...well let’s just say her parents are making up. Gross. She got up, wrote a note on the fridge and took something to drink and a snack before she grabbed her dad’s keys and left. 

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

Persephone/Persi had been at home and once again she was grounded. Go figure. She packed a bag because she knew she needed more time and space away from her family. They’d understand even though they don’t understand her as a person. Eh, maybe one day. Right now, she’s going to make the most of her 17 years of life so far and her underlying mental illness. She took her stash out and the prepaid card her grandparents loaded for her and used Dan’s ZipCar account to drive from Vegas to LA. 

She looked around to see where the other kids a little older than her were doing and she settled on the Santa Monica Pier. She walked the boardwalk and scored some weed and cigarettes from the other kids because she looked like them. She was having fun and drinking a little until she felt like she was no longer the kid with two gay parents and a twerp for a little gay brother with a hard-on for their oldest cousin. 

She was flying on the beach at the bonfire with everyone having fun. Her new friends were being awfully cool and they were just sharing weed and stories and bottles of various alcohols that she could get her hands on. Tonight it felt like her last night being in high school, her last night being this young. She wondered what would come of this experience until they said that they were going to the Sunken City.

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

The red haired girl offered to let her catch a ride to the Sunken City with her for no charge. The car felt and smelled like a rental. They shared cigarettes on the drive up and some stories about their lives. The brown haired girl felt something different about the girl driving, it didn’t feel creepy and it didn’t feel like they should be friends, either. She had feelings for a girl she just met and was giving her a free Uber to this location on a school night and they were both floating  

“Where do you go to school?” Persephone asked, “Just like location and if you like it. I hate school”

“Uhh..oh,uhh I got to someplace in the valley. Real casual shit. I hate everyone there and I hate school in general because I don’t like how they teach it’s so lazy and not personal to what I wanna do when I leave. Especially when I was in and out of school for as fucking long as I was-”

“You too?! Fuck I’ve transferred outta like 5 schools across 2 countries for fighting.”

“Woah..I just don’t be at school. I’m most of the time on the road, but it sounds way more badass to move schools for fighting..What happened?”

“No, no. You first, babe. I don’t like talking about something that I can’t explain myself...” Persi kept her eyes on the road.

Isla blushed at the endearment, and it that feeling wasn’t going away. Strange. “My mom is fucking trash. See? When she was a kid, she dated this guy and he was crazy and she got away from him and got kidnapped again so she got away from him again and then my dad said that she was there when one of her friends killed him for her when he found her again, but she’s used to being on the move and on the road, which was fun when I was a kid, then my dad forced us to settle down and I’ve been living in LA and tonight she was trying to leave again..I couldn’t listen to my parents fight and makeup again so I heard that some kids were going to hang out at the pier tonight and here I am.”

“Wow..that’s fucking deep. And gross. You’ve had to hear your parents fuck?” she asked, her American accent slipping, “I get that. My parents fight about what to do with me and my dad was quite the man’s man in their day so my pussy of a dad needs talking down because my mom’s crazy. I was basically planned by her but not by my dad. It’s mental. Like really, this apparently had to do with his mental and Daniel is so vetted about it but then again he went and fucked Bryonny and she had my baby brother..ugh..you’d think they’d learn but nooo! They fuckin fight and so I fuckin fight bitch boys at school and birds who try me.”

“How are you in school but you’re driving a rental? Don’t you have to like..be older to drive these?” Isla asked, deflecting from the drama. She really didn’t want to ruin a great night.

“I snuck out, got a hotel room with my money from my grands, and rented the car in Dan’s name. I still got money for like four days, so I’ll go back when that money runs out or I feel like going home, but I just can’t stand it,” Persi explained, “You sound like you’re not trying to see the sunrise in your bedroom either.”

“Damn, how long have you been English? I thought you were-”

“My mum is American. My dad’s from Northern England, Dan’s from like London, I think? And Bryonny’s from Brighton. I have dual citizenship. Hence, being kicked out of primary and secondary school as well as elementary and middle schools around here. I didn’t want to do Sixth Form. So I came to high school in the states. I live in Vegas,” Persi explained, “I hid my accent as best I could because..I didn’t want all the hard-ons and wet panties simply off of my accent. It’s so northern and rough and mixed up. I don’t see how anyone would like it, and it slips...”

“I like your accent..” Isla says, a little quieter, not intending to stare at the girl so long, but she smiled when she saw the girl smile a little. 

They parked a little further up on the beach and followed the crowd to the water. Both Isla and Persephone stripped to their underwear and splashed in the moonlight. They settled as they lit the bonfire and broke out the entertainment of sparklers, weed, and little games of touch football. Persi had gone to use the bathroom and left Isla for a few minutes, claiming that she could hold her own. While the redhead was coming back from the port-a-potties, she spotted her new friend being shuffled off and accosted by some chad and she didn’t know what came over her. 

“Yo!” Persi called as she saw the girl trying to fight the man off from touching her. When nothing happened she started running and felt herself slipping away even though she had been drinking. On the way she grabbed an empty bottle out of the trash and came crashing into the two, bashing the big bottle against his head and yanking him back, throwing him to the sand and stomped on his head. “Stay away from her, you fucking creep!” she yelled and then realized she had knocked him clean out. It was a fairly large guy, and Isla was stunned. She hadn’t really been in too many situations like this, which is something she can be thankful her mom did, but it was so unlike her to not react to something she felt was coming out of her control. When Persi came up, Isla looked at the girl and their panting matched. Persi couldn’t see the girl, but the girl who stood in front of her liked what she saw. 

“I know this is creepy as fuck but you look kinda cute when you’re scared,” she said with an unwavering English accent, “Persi tell you about me?”

Isla was so confused a little scared, “Uhh I don’t even know her name...and thanks?” 

“Ah, she’s bad at that sometimes. I’m- well we’re Persephone. I like being called Persephone. Ya know, like the greek person. The one that made a deal with Hades to save her boyfriend and he straight left her and she ended up fucking Hades anyway. That one,” Persephone said, putting her hands in her pockets and flipping her hair over one shoulder, “She usually goes by Persi, like Percy Jackson, like the books? It’s nutted, anyway. I think she likes Greek Mythology or gender-neutral naming, but eh..Either way it’s nice to meet you sweetie.”

Isla was shocked, but she wasn’t too concerned. She had a mother who would just phase out, and she remembers her talking about a guy she went to school with who had a condition like this. Her father backed this up, so it’s gotta be true. She liked how the shift in her accent and her hair placement presented a completely different girl, who she had a harder crush on. Her legs rubbed together and she bit her lip, trying not to smile to big, “Uhmm..I’m Isla..Not Lila, Isla...Like Isla Fisher, like that crazy red-he-oh...sorry.” The girl blushed so hard and played with the dirt with her shoes.

“None taken, cutie! Isla is such a cute name. And yes I know she was the girl Shaggy liked in Scooby Doo, and yeah the crazy chick from Wedding Crashers. Gingers don’t get a good wrap, but it is true we’re amazing in the sack,” Persephone explained, smiling and giggling watching the other girl trying not to meet her gaze. She knew she was fighting with herself, but Persephone was willing to play ball, “So..you wanna get outta here? I think they’re bouta go home or something. I’ve already smuggled enough hooch, grass, and drugs that we can hit up a hotel now.”

“Can we go to a Wal-Mart, first? I wanna pick up some provisions,” Isla explained, “Is there a pool or a spa at the hotel?”

“Yeah I think so. It’s a homestay suite, so I guess I’m gonna cook for the next few days,” Persephone said, pulling the car keys out of her pocket and walking towards the car.

Isla was now very concerned, “Wait, cook for us? That’s romantic, and efficient...how..how old are you?”

“We’re 17. We turn 18 in a few months. I didn’t think it woulda mattered cus you look as old as me. Also I think I have some clothes that might fit you, we look about the same size, as cute as your outfit is, those desert nights aren’t kind,” she said, unlocking the car and opening the door for the girl. She takes some time to get her duffle bag out of the back and brought it to the back seat, pulling out a large heavy hoodie she had from Reiner- which is funny he hadn’t asked for it back yet after their rather interesting night on their field trip- and tossed it to the girl. She pulled about $100 and handed it to Isla to put it to the side for gas. 

“Wow..you’re so organized..Have..have you done this before?” she asked, putting on the hoodie and smelled it, catching the tones of cologne and sweat and her body spray and deodorant. It made her melt into the passenger seat, but she wondered who’s cologne she smelled in the fabric of this comfy garment.

“Eh, sorta..I’ve thought about putting this little getaway together for about 6 months. You’re a nice add-on. I’m gonna go back after about 4 or 5 days, because..I just felt so trapped and I needed space to calm down. My parents are usually too busy with work and their own infidelity to give me time and attention like I should get, especially with..ya know..this..” she said, getting in the car and starting it, pulling out, “Where am I dropping you off when this is over, babe?”

Isla’s chest had a resounding bang again and she looked at Persephone. Why does she like this? She doesn’t even know if she likes girls. The GPS on the screen and the soft music in the background gave her time to think. She looked at her phone and saw a few missed calls from her dad then a simple message telling her to be safe and be careful, and that they love her. She swiped away the notifications and opened her phone, playing some game to take her mind off of abandoning her parents. She didn’t feel like a bad kid, she just felt like her mother steals her spotlight. This sweatshirt around her made her think of all the casual relationships she had on the road and how if they would have lasted, maybe she wouldn’t be so unfamiliar to love. Maybe she wouldn’t be so hesitant with her feelings for the girl driving them to a getaway. Even when the guy was simply a jerk, it felt like it was her fault. Watching her parents were no help either. It caused her to panic that she possibly didn’t know how to love or what good love looked like. She was a broken girl and never fit in anywhere. She blanked out when that guy grabbed her, her body barely fought him when his hand snaked up her torso while he pressed together. Coming to and seeing the ginger girl beating him down was so relieving. She’d usually come back and she’d be sore, emotionless, and alone. There, she wasn’t alone. The same girl who gave her a ride had saved her from something she didn’t know about. Her own mother had the same problem and couldn’t explain. Why can’t she fight? Isla now felt like she owed Persi. However, she’s not making it seem that way. She hasn’t even asked for any money; if anything, she gave her cash. What kinda rich kid reject is she, anyway? “You said your parents are gay, right?’ she asked, looking at her, “That’s still a new thing.”

“Yeah, gay. Two different surrogate mothers, AAND English immigrants. Well, I’m actually American. My brother isn’t. I was born in the States and my brother’s mum had her across the pond in Camden. My dad and Dan went to school in Montana, then they wanted two places for us to live-”

“Wait you said Montana?!” Isla jumped up, leaning over the center console “As in the high school and college in the Montana mountains, Montana?”

“Yeah..for YouTubers,” Persi looked at the girl while they stopped at a red light, a little wide-eyed and very surprised that she met someone who knew what she was talking about, “Wait..”

“My parents are Vincent Cyr and Leda Muir...who in the hell are your parents?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Dan Howell and Phil Lester-”

“yOUR pARENTS...Wait wait wait...Hang on. You share biological DNA with Amazing Phil? The Amazing Phil?! Who the fuck is your mom?”

“Cat Valdez...”

“Catrific?! Wow..you’re the heiress of YouTube royalty!”

“And you’re the heiress of YouTube controversy...As am I...So that means-”

“That we both have a base level of a fucked up family. I’ve heard stories about Phan being super toxic and so crazy!”

“Same..I remember when..uh..Cameron? Right? He stormed the campus and someone fucking took him out. It was amazing. Everybody thinks it fucked her up more-”

“It did. It really did. She’s still in denial.”

“She still move around a lot? They used to tell me that they never knew when she was on campus because she would run-”

“Uhh well, when my dad got her pregnant with me she was still running around and then around the time when she had me my parents lived together in the valley in a loft- we still live there now, but my mom would still leave and for a few years and sometimes I’d stay with my grandparents and sometimes I went with her until my dad put his foot down and I said I didn’t wanna move around anymore. So I’ve lived in Carmel Valley for the past 7 years going to school and shit, then tonight happened. My mom just snapped and told me to pack because we’re leaving. I didn’t wanna leave and we fought and I left.”

“..So, fuck I’m sorry, I’m Persi, by the way I forgot to introduc-”

“Persephone filled me in already. You have the same personality disorder your dad did...My mom told me about it before. Phil didn’t use to be the best guy in the world and Dan is dumb enough to be with him this whole time,” Isla said, not moving from the center console as they started on the road again, “No offense but I didn’t know they had kids in the mix.”

“I was a wedding gift, my mom says..then again my mum turned out to be a real psycho when it came to my dad. So yeah, like Persephone graciously explained, my dad does have the same thing, but it went away once he got my mum preggos. She told me his name was Zack. And it will usually tell you how they want to be addressed, but she usually doesn’t talk when she’s around...she just screams and causes havoc which leaves me in trouble..” Persi explained, “My baby brother only came around because Dan was being petty and got Bryonny knocked up. However, it’s way sweeter of a time being around her than Dan or my mom.”

“Oh, then the holidays must suck for you, huh,” Isla commented, “My parents were young and dumb and my mom had this crazy delusion that she couldn’t have kids because of what Cameron did to her or something..When in all reality her reproductive system had healed enough for me to be born. My dad tells me all of the time how she would freak out and stop taking care of herself because she was ‘scared to death of having to stay in one place in case he found her.’ And I’m just like-”

It just sounds like a fucked up way of saying they couldn’t get rid of me.

Persi and Isla had arrived at the store and looked at each other when they had said the sentence, they had looked away into their respective windows, but quickly turned heads to see they felt the same way. They were mistakes. Tactfully set upon this earth to make things worse for their parents regardless of their feelings. They didn’t feel like they belonged, and at the end of the day they didn’t even have the loving comfort of their parents. Just themselves. 

“Let’s hurry up and get what we need so we can get to this room,” Persi said quickly, backing off and getting out of the car. 

Isla was still frozen. She felt so much at once from once sentence than she ever had with anyone else. Someone who understood. Someone she could stay close to and trust because they were all they had. It made the pang in her chest take her breath away and she sat staring into the center console until Persi jolted her out of it with a hand on her shoulder, “Earth to Isla...Come on!” She hurried along, holding the girl’s hand. They were around the same height, Persi maybe a little taller. She wasn’t sure that the ginger even noticed that they had linked until they walked into the automatic doors and saw that she meant to do it, “Uhh, why are you holding my hand?”

“Because this is like the second time you’ve just spaced out on me. I can’t afford to bring you back to your family if I lose you. Also, remember I am somebody’s older sister, so habit I guess?” she said quickly, then let go but walked close to the girl.

Isla looked ahead again and blushed, snaking her hand into Persi’s again, and feeling a squeeze. 

“Did you wanna ride in the cart?” Persi asked with a playful smile, “It is weird Wal-Mart hours, so nobody’s gonna care.”

“Actually, I don’t think we need that much stuff, let’s go for the scooter!” she jumped up and ran to the station, unattached one and hit the horn for Persi to hop on. 

“Uh-uh, you sit in my lap and steer!” she blurted, pushing her and fixing it as they traversed the store.

They fooled around and had their fun, grabbing their essentials and some supplies for the room so they can eat and live from the suite for at least the first two days. The staff at the store gave them weird looks and didn’t say much, but told them to make sure to put the scooter back when they were done and let them know if it ran out of battery. They didn’t spend too long in the store and bought (almost) everything and left.

They finally pulled into the suite and went to the front desk where Persi gave the receptionist Dan’s name and remembered the hotel had his card on file from previous travel. This was a bonus. She could stay out longer on her parents’ dime. Only thing is that he would see that she went here and stayed so he’d be tempted to track her down. She sneaks out enough they know she’s coming back. 

Once inside, she was pretty impressed with how homey the suite was, complete with all the works and one sofa bed and a large California king sized bed in the other room. Fits because her Dads’ are both 6 feet tall and over. “Fun fact: I almost never travel with my parents unless it’s the mandatory trips to see my grands. When they’re on tour they don’t even fly us out to a certain cluster of cities to watch them work. Given, it is a lot to fly your family around and worry about our safety and shit, but whatever,” Persi said as she put everything down and started to unpack.

“Wow..I’ve never been in a hotel room this nice,” Isla said, doing laps around the suite and checking everything out. She could hear what the girl was saying and felt for her. Even though she wanted to stay and have a more stable life like hers, but she could get used to these trips. She caught herself thinking about seeing her again and planning how their about to spend their summers and maybe even do more getaways with just them. She would love the air and the space- well the individualized attention. She remembered and thought of the first times she would run away with her mom and how this would feel. It feels more like the times they would all go as a family, instead of just her mother. Mostly because of how much fun she was having with the both of them and no tension of the constant worry of someone going to find them or even her mom’s manic energy. Those are the moments where her parent’s love doesn’t bother her and it feels like the love that she was made from. 

“You want the soup first or do you want the spaghetti? Or do you wanna just pop one of these pizzas in the oven?” Persi called to the girl, where she had heard her loading up the dressers but didn’t know what she was doing. She waited and still didn’t hear anything, deciding to put the cheese pizza in the oven and started sifting thru the drinks they put in the refrigerator, cracking open a fresh bottle of whiskey and grabbed the cola and a glass with some ice, making the drink and sitting over in the common area to set up her PlayStation so that she can watch TV. 

Isla strolled out of the bedroom, wearing some clothes that Persi recognized from her own duffle bag. She looked at Persi setting up the television on the couch and sat with her, taking a sip of her drink, “Mmmh! What is this?”

“Jack and Coke. I’m sorry if I drink a bit, I’m used to being able to drink in the UK, and I know the age to drink is 21 over here.”

“Wait, seriously? You can drink at 17 there?”

“Yeah in some places they let you at 16. But 17-18 is the age where you develop a drinking problem around there. Especially if you look like you’re old enough they don’t even card you-”

“Oh my god,” she gasped, curling up and crossing her legs on the couch, “That’s absolutely insane to me.”

“Well tonight we’re gonna drink like English sailors, love,” Persi said as she took the glass from the girl and sipped it again. She looked at the girl who was staring at her lips while she drank and took down the glass, “What’s your type?”

Isla blushed faster than the alcohol allowed her, “My what?!” she sputtered and before she could try to blubber her way out of the question, her face had a finger in front of it.

“I’m out, hold that thought and follow me into the kitchen, I’ll make you one of these too,” Persi interrupted, getting up and taking the girl’s hand with the glass in the other and then continued, “I don’t mean to be that gal, but you’ve been giving me stares all night and your face loses colour every time I called you out of your name out of respect for not knowing it. So is it your first time liking a girl or is it just unprecedented?”

“Uhh well when you put it that way, unprecedented, I guess,” Isla shrugged, “I think I just had stronger feelings cus I’m like plastered and here I am still drinking,” she giggled.

“It’s called a nightcap, but I’ll put Bailey’s in yours instead Coke, but if you want a smoother drink, remember creme is key so you can use vanilla flavours and coffee flavours. It softens alchy burn but keeps the potency, even masking it,” Persi said, dropping cubes into another glass and starting on the other girl’s glass, “Also the caffeine in Bailey’s or Kahlua liqueurs will help you sleep and regulate dehydration when you get up, staying off a monstrous hangover.”

“Wow I never thought about how drinks work because I usually am just grabbing what I can. It sounds like you’ve like sat down and thought about it,” Isla said, relaxing a little and taking the drink when it was complete, sipping it lightly and loving the taste, but tried to focus on the topic at hand, “Why’d you ask me about my sexuality?”

“Conversation mostly, but honestly I’m bi and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and I can give you the option of sleeping on the bed bed, and I just pass out on the sofa,” Persi said leaning against the counter, making light gestures, “I know I like took you along with me on this adventure, but from what I saw, I’d just want to make sure you know I’m not some creep or something.”

“Uhh oh wow..I don’t mind! T-The bed looks big enough for the both of us to sleep comfortably. I like how...old fashioned you are, and you’re not afraid to share your wealth. I think that’s really cool, but I think I had never heard of someone in our day and age doing stuff like this. And- I’m just realizing that you have freckles on your cheeks. That’s really cute oh my god I’m sorry I’m so distracted. And it’s not your fault I think I might have had too much-” Isla’s rambling was halted by Persephone’s lips

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

After their first night of kisses and cuddles, games, and Isla actually getting too drunk and throwing up most of her pizza, they woke holding one another on the gigantic bed, the TV blaring in the background. Persi stretched pulling her hair back with a hair tie and felt something hug her torso tighter. She looked down and saw the brunette, smiled and started to slide out of her grip. 

Isla stirred, feeling a little lost, but watched the girl walk into the bathroom. She was so confused. What happened last night? Where was she? Why was this feeling like she went along with her mother anyway? But it wasn’t? She sat up in the comfortable bed and saw how ornate the room was and could hear that the room didn’t just end in those walls. She was so hungover. The sun was being blocked by the curtains, which helped her sensitivity to light. The girl in the bathroom was still foreign to her, but familiar as she looked through their social media. Clearly, she and the girl had hit it off. That’s a relief. She had seen her phone was fully charged, meaning that she had blacked out well before the other girl, who had been smart enough to charge it for her. She usually doesn’t use her phone or post when on the run just because her mother taught her about vigilance and stopping to look down at her phone means you’re giving someone an opportunity to sneak up on you and take your shit. Also, the mother feared the man who was no longer after her, meaning she had to reduce her presence in the one area where he could track her down or use a lot of sourcing to track her location. Her father, bless his heart, allowed her to have a phone. On her birthday a few years ago, the man had hidden the device in her suitcase, and left her some money for a case and a note informing her not to let her mother know he had given it to her, to take a picture of the case she chose, and send it to him. It allowed her and him to remain connected to his not-so-little girl anymore.

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

Cyr had seen her posts that night and smiled: she was having fun. Leda was still an entire mess that her little girl wasn’t home. She had barely remembered her (almost) husband had given their daughter a cellphone until she remembered seeing the girl use it once before, she took a picture of the motel they were staying at. The girl rose from the bed and walked into the large room and was greeted by Cyr playing a video game. She didn’t really want to bother him but she had to make sure. “Vincent,” her voice was unable to reverberate through the loft, but the man looked up and paused the game.

“Yes honey bear, what’s up? You hungry or something? Do I gotta turn down the TV?” he started, pulling his headphones all the way off. The woman cringed at how much he still guesses what she wants and is right about 85% of the time.

“N-no...Vincent, do you know where Isla is?” she asked, staring at him carefully because the man she loved had a way with lying, it was almost pathological and giving him this look usually worked.

“Maybe I do...maybe I don’t. All I know is that she’s a smart girl, she can handle herself. She’ll be back. She wouldn’t leave us forever like that,” he explained carefully folding his hands and then spreading them, palms up. He’s not lying, he’s gas lighting. She felt her body heat up, rage building from his dismissal. She was Isla’s parent, too, goddammit, she had a right to know! He knew exactly where she was and he wasn’t going to tell her that easily.

“I remember seeing her with a phone. Don’t fucking talk to me like a fucking mental patient, Vincent! You went behind my back and gave her a phone, didn’t you?! She never had any money for her own and I barely had one so I know it had to be you. Where is our daughter?!” Leda asking more seriously, her cheeks going pink. Cyr was cornered, he had to let her baby she never knew she could have was alright. The man motioned the woman over and pulled her daughter’s Instagram and showed her story and all posts since the account was created. “The-These...These are so beautiful,” she referenced the pictures and cracked a warm smile at her daughter’s story of her prancing through a Wal-Mart, the bonfire, and the girl. That girl looked so familiar. She recognised the bright orange hair and little freckles. “Who’s phony.persi?” she asked towards the man, who shrugged.

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

Phil had gotten smart about his daughter running off over the years. He follows her on social media just in case they have cute father-daughter time or people don’t believe that he’s her father. He went to her story and saw that she had been reposted in someone else’s story by the name of earth-name-isla. He didn’t want to pry, but he had a feeling about the girl that was pictured with his daughter was familiar. He got up and went to his husband, who would know which one of their ex-classmates this girl looked like. “Hey babe..can you come here for a second?” he asked into his ear, running a hand down his arm. 

“What?! What’s going on? You know where Persephone is?” the other asked quickly, whipping his head around and followed his husband back into the office. 

“Yes, but something is weird,” Phil said, handing him the phone and looked at the story and the pictures with her daughter and the mystery girl, “The girl she’s with...does she look familiar to you?”

Dan took a few moments and went through the girl’s profile and happened to find a little rare picture of a hard copy of a picture of Cyr and Leda when their daughter was a child and they had taken her to Universal Studios. He squinted a little so that he could see her parents and upon recognizing the girl’s father, his cheeks flushed. “Oh my god...Phillip,” he gasped and quietly called for his husband, “Look at this! Look who her dad is!”

Phil looked on and raised his eyebrows at the man he hadn’t seen in years, next to a girl he equally hadn’t seen in a long time. The memories flooding back to their days at the Institute and few in the Youniversity and how their relationship- similar to their own- was akin to that of a firecracker. “Her mom is Leda Muir..And that’s-”

“Vincent Cyr- yes! I didn’t know they had a daughter! And that she’s...she’s..! Making out with Persephone?! I c-can’t! Babe, I’m literally done! Bring her home. Right now. Where is she?!” Dan fussed and shoved the phone back into Phil’s chest and he began to pace in the office.

“She’s in LA. It must be where she lives,” he explained calmly, setting the device down on his desk.

“Yo-you-you don’t think that-”

“I doubt it. There’s no way that she would have known who she was.”

“You hope,” Dan said, “How did she even get all the way to LA from here?”

“Persi is a resourceful and smart girl. I’m surprised she’s not alone. When I find her, she’s usually been by herself for a few days..She’ll be back. Especially if she took a trip,” Phil said before hearing their son come up to the door to the office and saw their son looking a little worse for wear. 

“Oh my god! Elliot, baby, what happened?! Come here,” Dan shrieked, running to embrace his son and gave him excessive love, only to be pushed back and Dan could feel tears forming.

“Otosan, I’m fine..really..Jareth and I-”

“Jareth had something to do with this? Did he hit you?! Oh, I knew I should have sent Harlan to go-”

“Otosaan! Stop! I’m fine. Harlan didn’t need to be there. We fought them off ourselves. They were these huge sophomores and they almost broke his camera, and I jumped two of them and then he helped me out...We took out 4 of them dad! I’m just like Persi!” the boy beamed as his fathers looked over his body, “We ended up rolling down the hill and...I got dirty, but I hope you don’t mind, I told Jareth he could clean up here..so..”

The men were so distraught to hear the words that came from his mouth. They looked at one another, sharing a soft chuckle at their fierce family. Phil pushed the boy’s hair back so he could check for anymore injury and seen all of the hickies on his skin, which he quickly let go of his hair and put a hand over his mouth and grabbing Dan, “You should call Sean or Charlie, let them know where their kid is,” he says to him, “Ellie, go ahead...is he staying for dinner?” When the boy nods, Dan gets up and returns to the kitchen to finish cooking.

“Awh, Otosan is cooking?!” Elliot whined, “Why didn’t you cook, Papa?!” 

“I was busy with locating your sister and meetings until the time for dinner, so I trusted Otosan with some fish and shrimp noodle dish. It cooks too fast so it’ll work with his short attention span. Now...I know he can be dramatic, but can I inquire about those blotches on your neck?” Elliot had gotten nervous, “Look, I don’t mind you growing up and dating, but I just need to know you’re safe, okay? I don’t need you growing up too fast...Now go on, tend to your guest..And also, for next time: Ice seals up those bursted capillaries faster and prevents blood from staying in the dermis.”

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

“Ugh..I don’t think it’s working!” Isla whined, holding the paper towel full of ice to her neck while Persi hung out on the counter, who also was holding ice to her own body.

“You kinda have to freeze that part of your skin,” Persi said, patiently holding ice to her own neck, “Why are we doing this again? I don’t really think it’s all that necessary.”

“Because, I feel better and I’m ready to go home and I don’t wanna show up with hickies on my neck and an older girl that I found in the desert. My parents will flip. They’ll think I purposely left for two days to go and party and be gay I guess. I wanna make a good first impression,” Isla said.

“Isla, I think I’m the least of your worries. Your dad and my Dan used to fuck, so if they have to speak to each other after such a long time I think they’ll be more worried about that, or when they realize that my baby brother is definitely fucking that rugged bad boy loner he found in the woods.”

“Ew,” Isla said, dropping the cloth and playing with it, listening to the ice clack, “You have a point. I did this to show that I’m growing up, but I guess if I’m gonna go for it, I should commit.”

“Also, you’re an only child, it’s not like you can avoid it. I’m not an only child, so I can always point out what goes on with Ellie,” she mentioned, throwing her ice in the sink.

“You call your brother Ellie?”

“Short for Elliot, duh,” she looks at her sitting on the counter when Isla touches her arm.

“You’re so mean...” Isla cooed, trying to hide her smile.

“That doesn’t sound like you hate it,” she looked bit her lip and nudged closer, pulling her in for a kiss then pulled away quick, “But for real? Like real shit? Only I can call him that. He’s Elliot to you at all times. Got me?”

“Yeah, I gotchu, babe,” she nods.

“Good!”

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

*phone rings*

“Babe answer it!” Phil exclaims from downstairs.

“Do I have to do it?”

“Yes! It might be our daughter and my hands are wet, just hurry up before it goes to voicemail!” 

“Fine!” Dan goes to the phone in the studio and picks up the phone, “Hello?”

“Daniel James Howell...As I live and fucking breathe,” Vincent laughed, sounding mature and relaxed with age, “Uhh, so your daughter brought my daughter to me and I just...wanted to thank you for raising her so well..She is so sweet and generous.”

“Are you...wait..Cyr, you talking about my daughter? Persephone?”

“That’s her whole name? She told me it was Persi. That’s a beautiful name-”

“Enough! Where are you? Where is she?!” Dan snapped, “Also my last name is Howell-Lester nowadays. I haven’t been just Howell in a while..”

“She’s with Leda and I at my place in the valley. Carmel Valley. I can have her send you the address. The girls wanted to hang out, so we all thought we can take the time and catch up,” Vincent said a soft wind blowing into his phone, “Uhh yeah I figured, but you’re still a howler nonetheless-”

“Cyr I’m fucking married!” he snapped.

“I’m kidding, kidding. You have a whole family and I just want to show you how our little girls are having so much fun together. They’re inseparable. So yes I called to invite you up here, but to also thank you because I haven’t seen my little angel this happy in years. She made a real friend in her-”

“Hmph don’t speak so soon, she’s a force. She’s only like that now from therapy and her father being here. I couldn’t raise her on my own if I tried,” Dan replied, leaning against the desk.

“Daniel, is it her?” Phil asked in the doorway, causing Dan’s body to heat up a little as though he had been engaging in something wrong, but they were just talking about being dads.

“Yeah, it’s the girl’s father. I’ll put it on speaker,” he moved the phone from his face and pressed the button, “Say hi, Cyr.”

“Cyr? As in, Vincent Cyr? I haven’t heard that name in ages, how you been, sir?” Phil asks.

“I’ve been well, I’ve been well. I was just thanking Dan here about your daughter bringing my Isla back in one piece and they’re really good friends. Like it’s like she brought back a different girl. She’s so happy and they get along so well!” Vincent said, blowing smoke from his cigarette, “Leda and I are inviting you down to our place to come and get her, but why don’t we all go out to lunch or something? My treat.”

“Oh that sounds amazing! I’d like that just tell Persi to send me the address and we’ll be out tute-suite!” Phil beamed, looking at Dan with a playful smirk, which caused him to smile more comfortably.

“Alright, we’ll see you then!” Vincent said before hanging up.

“Only you Daniel. Only our daughter would seek out a girl who just so happens to be the spawn of your old flame,” Phil teased.

“Shut the fuck up, Phillip! That was really fucked up for me~” Dan whined, “Like I’m actually, literally sweating all over the fucking place!”

“Ooh sexy,” Phil said, then heard the notification on his phone and looked at it, “Oh wow we gotta buy these tickets...Elliot!” He exclaimed walking out of the room, “Sweetie you wanna go to LA for a day? We gotta go get your sister!” 

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

Elliot was startled by his father’s raised voice and quirked an eyebrow, “Why is she in LA?”

Jareth looks over at him and shakes his head, pointing at his bed and Elliot gives him a look, “My sister would tear up a town if I went missing. I wanna see that she’s safe...” The other boy sighed and shrugged, gathering his bag and putting on his shirt slowly, wincing quietly, causing Elliot rushed to him and helped him put his shirt on but gave him very pleading eyes, trying to bring the other boy closer to him and he didn’t respond. He winced again when the boy was touched in an area where it hurt and he swiftly, yet gently, firmly grasped his boy and looked in his eyes, cupping his jaw. He laid a soft, long and deep kiss on his lips biting his lip a little as he pulled away as he struggled to get out the room through the window. 

“Elliot!” the voice came from behind him and caused him to whip around and he gasped, “Did you hear me?”

“Y-Yeah..LA..we leaving soon?” he asked, his body tingling at the boy’s kiss.

“Uh huh..Pack a bag for like a night just in case. You get to see who your parents grew up with.”

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[ariadnelives]

Chapter 13 -- The Perfectly Good Explanation

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

“She's coming back,” Sasha said.

“I want to think so too,” Backflip sounded a lot more worried, “but—”

“I don't think she's coming back,” Sasha demanded, “I know it for a fact.”

“Deathsbane,” Backflip lowered her voice so the police officers outside the cell couldn't hear, “she took our guns and a backpack with 500,000 credits and ran away to save her own skin.”

“Nope,” Sasha insisted, “we're not seeing the whole picture.”

Backflip whispered harshly, “she ditched us and let us get caught so she could get away!”

“There's got to be something we're missing.” Sasha shook her head. “She wouldn't just leave me like this. I can't believe that. I won't.”

“You're in denial.” Backflip sighed.

“You know, you can be a real child sometimes,” Sasha snapped.

Backflip looked hurt.

“I'm sorry,” Sasha said halfheartedly.

“It's whatever,” Backflip crossed her arms and looked to the side. Sasha was right, technically speaking Backflip was only fourteen years old and was, by most definitions of the word, a child. However, Sasha was not being technical, she was being intentionally hurtful, and it wasn't, as Backflip claimed, “whatever.”

“No, I'm actually sorry,” Sasha said, this time sincerely, and moved over next to Backflip. “We've both had a pretty bad day, and I shouldn't have snapped at you like that.”

Backflip grunted to indicate that the apology was accepted, but since she was actually a child in exactly the way Sasha meant, she still continued to maintain an air of grouchiness despite not officially being upset anymore.

“Plus, it's my fault you're in here anyway,” Sasha continued.

“How do you figure?” Backflip asked, “You're not the one who called the cops on us, or the one who ditched us.”

“I tricked you into coming on this stupid mission because I was feeling cooped up,” Sasha shrugged.

“I knew the risks when I thought I was leaving with Spacebreather,” Backflip shrugged back.

“You've got to understand, Sweettalk might not be concerned with rules, but she wouldn't throw us under the bus. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for what she did.”

“I'd love to hear it,” Backflip rolled her eyes, “I think I saw someone who could explain that booking it down an alley with all our guns and money.”

“I know it,” Ghostrunner said from the opposite corner without looking up from the stars she was drawing on her arm with a semi-permanent marker. She had been so quiet that Backflip and Sasha both jumped when she spoke, having almost forgotten she was there.

“Well, lay it on us,” Sasha said, “Not like we've got somewhere else to be.”

Ghostrunner continued to draw stars on her arm as she began to explain the story. Backflip and Deathsbane were both enthralled, they'd never heard Ghostrunner talk for this long before, and they allowed her to tell Sweettalk's entire life story without interrupting.

A lot of the story was stuff they already knew. Sweettalk's birth name was Mingxia Huang, and she was born in Xiagu, the sole colony of Saturn's cold moon, Enceladus. The moon was too rocky and full of canyons to build a standard bio-dome on level ground, but when a team of engineers is faced with a problem, it's a safe bet they'll come up with a solution far more ridiculous than simply abstaining from attempting to colonize a completely inhospitable moon.

Instead of a normal hemispheric bio-dome, the top of a canyon was sealed off with an advanced glasslike material thick enough to stop a nuclear bomb. The steep, flat walls of the canyon were outfitted with artificial gravity to allow the inhabitants of Xiagu to walk up and down them, heating elements to keep them from freezing to death, and specially engineered gardens to keep the atmosphere breathable in the airtight canyon.

Xiagu was a quiet, very insular community, more suburb than city. The children went to school during the day, did their homework in the evening, and for recreation, there were weekend games of a team sport that involved groups of players standing on one side of the canyon and throwing a ball high enough that it would get caught in the opposite wall's gravity and fall to the other side, where the opposing team would attempt to volley it back. On paper, it was an incredibly boring sport that amounted to little more than volleyball with more complex physics, but the whole community usually came out to watch, and getting lost in the cheers and enthusiasm actually made it pretty fun to watch.

The adults all had jobs and, for the most part, nobody was poor. Their food was all produced in gardens at the base of the gulch, there were small businesses that offered just about anything you might need at a reasonable price. There wasn't much crime, except for the occasional smuggler bringing contraband food or imported clothes in, but this was usually harmless. It was a nice, if incredibly dull, place to live.

The one thing about it that was, from the inside, extraordinary to a young Mingxia Huang was that she could always look to the mouth of the canyon and see Saturn, glorious, golden, and ringed, hanging in the sky. She used to watch it as she fell asleep and dream of places far more exciting than her home.

Her parents were good people. They weren't too strict, but they also weren't so permissive that Mingxia felt the need to act out for attention. They had steady, boring jobs tending to the climate control systems that made sure the colony stayed habitable. They loved their daughter, and she loved them. She hoped that when she grew up and got to live her exciting, glamorous life in the big city, she'd be able to provide for her parents in their old age.

Unfortunately, however, her parents never reached old age. They were two among the first wave of casualties in an outbreak that would claim the lives of every single resident of Xiagu, with two exceptions.

The viral cause of the plague would have been detected and eradicated quickly in the larger cities of Mars and the Jovian moons, and was little more than a minor annoyance in the mining communities of the Kupier belt where it originated. It was, technically speaking, alien life, but it was nothing as exciting as the Divoratori, it was just a few microbes and viruses that had been frozen in some of the larger asteroids, left over from some chunk of rock that had drifted into our system when the planets were young and never found its way back out. It caused sniffles and mild disorientation at first, and was just severe enough to affect productivity the slightest bit. The mining company added supplements to the company store that altered workers' DNA to compensate for the symptoms, and slowly but surely, the community built up an immunity. Within a few generations, every single miner in the belt had the virus in their system, but they were completely asymptomatic.

Every couple of years, the virus would mutate and the sniffles and disorientation would return, and the mining company would have the supplements adjusted to address the new mutations. What they hadn't accounted for was the cumulative effect of their continuous cycle. The virus had been incubating for hundreds of years in a community of people whose immune system had been genetically engineered scores of times to be resistant to its effects.

After generations of mutation and compensation, what had once been nothing but inconvenient sniffles and disorientation to the miners would, in the system of a person whose genetic code had not been radically altered to resist the virus, be a respiratory arrest and complete shutdown of the central nervous system within 18 hours of exposure. Under normal circumstances, the minerals would be disinfected and made sterile before anyone outside the community could touch them, and anyone who risked contact with the virus would be given a viral inhibitor that would prevent them from becoming infected.

This was, unfortunately, through legal channels. Smugglers, however, aren't usually known for being sticklers for the rules. One young smuggler, a teenager from Xiagu, had gotten his hands on a sealed case of Platinum ore and a single dose of the antiviral supplement from a disgruntled miner who wanted to make a quick buck on the side and didn't think to first disinfect the payload. The young smuggler then used the platinum ore as a bribe to convince a customs agent to look the other way while he brought his exotic fruits and designer jewelry into the bio-dome.

The customs agent would become patient zero fifteen hours after opening the case to inspect it. In those fifteen hours, he managed to interact with seventy-eight other people, sixty-two of whom were infected with the virus. Mingxia's parents would become the seventh and eighth casualties, respectively. The victims were quarantined as soon as the threat was identified, but it was far too late. The virus was spreading too quickly to treat, and the community was far too small to sustain losses this heavy.

Mingxia was not able to say goodbye to her parents. They died while she was in school when she was twelve years old. She refused to believe they were really gone at first, and she screamed at her principal that he was lying, and demanded he bring her to them. It wasn't until she arrived back home and saw the town pastor there to prepare her dinner and tuck her into bed that her heart properly sank.

She did not eat the dinner the pastor had prepared. She did not sleep that night. Her eyes remained fixed on the sky outside her window, on Saturn, as she wondered how this could be allowed to happen to people as good as her parents.

The next day the pastor drove her to the church and told her she'd be staying there for a while. It would be difficult to find her a new caretaker, half the town was in quarantine and the church was serving as a sanctuary for those who were uninfected and preferred to remain that way.

It was here that Mingxia met a young altar boy by the name of Prescott Cain. He, like her, was an orphan (although she almost struck him when he used the word “orphan” to describe her) who dreamed of one day going out into the stars and living a glamorous life in the big city of Xijing, on Callisto. She liked to hear about Prescott's big dreams, even if they seemed unrealistic. He'd lost his parents years earlier, and she liked the idea that he was doing so well and still had hope even though he'd lost so much.

After a few hours of him regaling her with tales of escapades he hadn’t been on yet, he decided to confide his deepest secret with her: he left the village all the time. He'd go out on adventures, hunting treasure and seeing strange new places, but he always had to come back quickly or else the pastor would get wise.

“But if I had a partner,” he told her, “maybe I could start adventuring in the big city full-time!”

Mingxia was too young to realize she was being conned. She hadn't put together that his “adventures” were actually petty crime, and she had absolutely no way of knowing the consequences of the crimes he’d committed. He wouldn’t even piece it together until years later, so how could she have known?

The next night, in total spite of how terrible an idea it is to run off with strangers even when one is emotionally stable, let alone in a state of grief, Mingxia and Prescott boarded a small shuttle and, taking advantage of the confusion the outbreak had caused, managed to escape their hometown. Mingxia and Prescott were lucky enough to evacuate before she could become infected, so they both assumed that the quarantine had worked and that life in Xiagu continued as usual without the two orphans who left in the night.

The next six months were spent on Callisto, in a shack that Prescott's current gang had set him up with. Their days were spent running cons on the streets of Xijing. They started out small, with games of Three-Card Monte. Prescott would play the dealer, showing the crowd three cards (both black jacks and the queen of hearts) and laying them facedown on a table. Players would place a bet on whether or not they could identify the queen after the cards were quickly shuffled and rearranged, and if they were successful, they'd win back double their bet.

Of course, Three-Card Monte is a fairly well-known con, so it's hard to get people to actually play. This is where Mingxia, the shill, comes in. She'd pose as a player, and when passers-by saw this little girl betting her allowance on the game and winning, they'd think maybe this game wasn't rigged for once. It helped that Prescott was scarcely older than her, so most players actually thought they were taking advantage of him.

When this proved to be a somewhat slow way to make money, they started to up the ante. For a while, Mingxia would be sent into a bodega, one with no more than a single cash register, and wait for Prescott to make a purchase. When the register opened, Mingxia would have to break a bottle in the back and start crying loudly, causing the lone attendant to rush back to check on the ruckus. Approximately half the time, they'd forget to close the register all the way, and while the store owner was helping Mingxia clean up shards of broken glass, Prescott would empty out the cash drawer. If they failed, they'd have lost the cost of the candy bar Prescott bought, since store owners rarely charged the crying, unattended little girl for the bottle of iced tea she broke. If they succeeded, they'd walk away with several hundred dollars.

Across Xijing, Prescott pulled just about every scam and grift in the book with Mingxia as his shill. With varying degrees of success, they pulled slip-and-falls, fiddle games, melon drops, and for two shocking months, purchased dirt-cheap mushrooms from a local deli and passed them off as illegal hallucinogens to unsuspecting high school students at a vastly inflated price, knowing they couldn't be reported for this without their customers admitting they'd attempted to purchase illegal narcotics.

Mingxia was never happy during this time, but she participated after Prescott told her she had to choose between taking the moral high ground and eating. She knew what she was doing was wrong, especially when the scams took advantage of others' generosity. She felt lied to. She'd been promised a glamorous lifetime of adventure, not a hungry ten months ripping off shopkeepers and broke kids who were too dumb to know any better. When she raised this objection, Prescott would invariably ask, “how exactly is this different from what I promised?”

Mingxia became very good at persuasion. She lived with Prescott for a little under a year, and by the end of it, she could sell any lie with very little effort. She could, and often did, convince grown adults to part with hundreds of credits on the pretense that she needed to buy a three-credit bus fare. She hated herself almost as much as she hated Prescott.

Near the end of their time together, she couldn't take the guilt anymore and threatened to roll over on him if he didn't take her back to Xiagu. She figured the pastor could find her a caretaker, or she'd become a ward of the church, or they'd go to jail and end up in a state-run children's home, and either way she'd be going legit and getting more food and a warmer bed. Prescott whipped up a batch of crocodile tears and claimed to agree with her. He told her, of course he'd take her back to Xiagu, but that he'd spent their last few dollars on packets of mushrooms, and that they'd have to sell this one last batch in order to buy passage.

They split the packets down the middle, agreed to run their usual routine on a high school where their stock hadn't been discovered as fakes yet, and rendezvous back at their shack with whatever money they'd made.

Mingxia got within two blocks the school's grounds before a police officer stopped her, announced that they'd received a tip about a young girl matching her description selling narcotics outside a high school. They searched her bag and found several packets of mushrooms inside. The police claimed the tip was anonymous, but she knew Prescott had sold her down the river to protect his own skin.

They took her into custody and, eventually, determined that the packets in her bag were full of perfectly legal, non-hallucinogenic mushrooms. As far as they could prove, she'd committed no crime and would have to be released into her parents' custody. She told them she had no parents. They asked if she had a legal guardian. She gave them the name and address of the pastor in Xiagu, hoping they'd send her home.

It was at this point that Mingxia found out there was no more Xiagu to go back to. The entire population was dead less than a week after she left. She and Prescott were the only two survivors, and he was probably halfway across the system by this point.

The officers were left with no other option than to send her to a nearby home for orphaned children. This is where Ghostrunner first encountered Sweettalk, and where she'd learned of these events. Ghostrunner was the only person she'd ever confided this story in, and she'd made her promise to keep it a secret.

“Who would I tell?” Ghostrunner asked her, “I don't talk to anyone.”

Ghostrunner confessed to feeling incredibly guilty for sharing this story with them, even though Sweettalk had apparently betrayed them, but reasoned that she would probably be okay with it if it made them blame her less for bolting.

Conditions at the orphanage were subpar, to say the least. There were only five residents, and they were given only enough food to keep them alive. For recreation, they had three moth-eaten books, a broken stationary bicycle, and each other's company. They slept in sleeping bags on the floor instead of beds. Mingxia missed being able to look up at Saturn as she fell asleep terribly; the water damage on the ceiling of their windowless bedroom couldn’t hold a candle to that view.

The children at the orphanage had assumed there was just no funding whatsoever. The caretakers seemed nice enough, and were always very apologetic about being unable to provide filling portions or new clothes for the children. It wasn't until after their rescue that they found out the caretakers were receiving thousands of credits in state funding and had keeping fake budgetary books that showed razor-thin margins. In reality, they spent the bare minimum on the children's care and pocketed the rest for themselves.

An elderly neighbor named La Pesadilla eventually discovered the conditions the children were forced to live in, and, in a rare moment of conscience, she alerted an associate named Pilar Aguilar, who she knew operated a much better home for children with her young girlfriend.

The next day, the caretakers told the girls they'd all been adopted by a wealthy benefactor who'd offered to buy out the orphanage for an exorbitant price. The girls were surprised to see that their savior was such a beautiful young girl, hardly older than them, and covered in tattoos from the neck down. She ushered them into her shuttle and brought them to their new life on Ship Trap.

Later that day, Law Enforcement received an anonymous tip that included all the evidence necessary to put them in jail for the remainder of their lives. When the police got to them, the caretakers were found savagely beaten and tied to a post in the run-down orphanage, restrained in the childrens' sleeping bags. They gave a full confession and offered no explanation of who had assaulted them. It was clear they'd rather live out their lives in prison than invoke that person's wrath again.

Mingxia was initially resistant to the community on Ship Trap Island. She didn't see how it was different than what Prescott did. It wasn't until she found out that those living there were fed and sheltered even if they refused to participate, and that they exclusively took from those who had too much to feed those who didn't have enough, that she was okay with it.

She eventually became a willing participant in the pirates' adventures, and that's when she really knew that this was different than what she'd been through with Prescott.

This time, she didn't feel like she was taking advantage of innocent people, she didn't feel like she was being taken advantage of, and she felt like her partners in crime viewed her as family, not as a tool. Her charisma made her rather popular with the crew, and the criminal skills she'd developed under Prescott became invaluable now that she was putting them to good use.

She was on the scene when a young Pilar Aguilar survived exposure to the void of space and became Pilar Spacebreather, and first took notice of Sasha Aguilar as she worked almost supernaturally hard to save her sister's life. It would be a little while before she worked up the nerve to talk to her, but when she did, she laid on the charm like she never had before.

It wasn't long before she earned her own new name, by—

“Well,” Ghostrunner said, “you know that part. She got Ariadne away from the police by posing as her lawyer, even though she was only fifteen years old. Stole a pantsuit from a department store and used talcum powder to put streaks of gray in her hair.”

“Jeez Louise,” Backflip sighed, “no wonder she ditched out. Last time Prescott sold her down the river, she ended up in that horrible orphanage. I'd have run too, if it was me.”

“That's not a story about why she ran,” Sasha insisted, “my takeaway from all that is that she always has a plan.”

“Mine is that her plan is to get as far away from the police station as possible,” Backflip shrugged.

“Sasha's got it right,” Ghostrunner said, “Look.”

Backflip and Deathsbane turned around to see the entrance to the holding cell, where a tired-looking officer was playing a card game by himself on a tablet.

Standing in front of the desk was Mingxia Sweettalk, dressed in high heels, a pencil skirt, horn-rimmed glasses and a navy blue blazer, carrying a tablet of her own and attempting to look as grown as possible.

“Excuse me, officer,” she said firmly, “I believe you've been holding my clients illegally.”

[eroyee]

Why TJ Kippen is a critical character that adds immensely to the diversity of Andi Mack:

First off, let’s deal with the character arc.

TJ started out as a misogynistic asshole, or at least it seemed that way. He treated Buffy rudely and disrespectfully, supposedly because she was a girl. Which usually elicits an immediate “I hate this guy” reaction from me, and at first it did, but then TJ’s character arc started. I’d say that what truly first established the fact that TJ might not be as much of a dick as one would initially think was when he helped Cyrus get a muffin for himself. In that scene he showed qualities that we hadn’t really seen in him before: compassion, understanding, encouragement, and a willingness to stand up for someone who needs it (in this case, Cyrus). To clarify when exactly TJ showed these attributes: he was compassionate and understanding towards Cyrus when he stated that he couldn’t get a muffin on his own. Judging by the attitude that TJ had shown previously, one would expect him to at least poke a little fun at Cyrus for this but after questioning him and getting the response of “I don’t need this extra level of embarrassment, but no” he immediately dropped the topic, being able to sense that Cyrus was uncomfortable. Now, TJ was encouraging to Cyrus when he had brought up guiding Cyrus in how to get the muffin, but also letting him get it himself. Upon hearing this Buffy said “He can’t do that,” to which TJ responded with “Don’t tell him what he can’t do.” Albeit hesitantly, Cyrus did go up to get the muffin on his own (with a push from TJ), but he was also thrown off by his disgruntled peers and started to back away from the muffin. This resulted in TJ willingly standing up for Cyrus by standing next to him, confronting the students in the line, and saying “He’s with me.” One could say that TJ was just acting this way to make sure that Buffy would tutor him, but if that were the case then why did he go though such extreme lengths? He could’ve just grabbed a muffin for Cyrus and given it to him, but instead he helped Cyrus get the satisfaction of getting a muffin on his own.

The next scene that TJ is in that contributes to his character arc is one of his tutoring lessons with Buffy. He needs Buffy to tutor him because he’s currently failing math, and if he continues to then he won’t be able to stay on the basketball team. During the tutoring session, Buffy realizes that TJ has more going on than just being bad at math, or not caring about it. After spending some time attempting to help him she comes to the conclusion that he may have “some type of math dyslexia.” TJ gets frustrated and calls himself stupid before leaving. He ends up going to a playground a little ways away from the school, and there he finds Cyrus. Cyrus is singing a little song to himself while swinging when TJ comes up and asks him about it. He doesn’t make fun of him, or mock him, he just asks. TJ then greets Cyrus with “Chocolate Chocolate Chip Muffin, right?”, showing that he did remember him from their first encounter, to which Cyrus replied with “Scary Basketball Guy.” Then TJ says “You hang out here a lot?” (or, alternatively, ‘You come here often?’) and the conversation continues as such:

“Only when I’m feeling bad about myself, so fairly often.”

“Does it [swinging] help?”

“Helps me.”

[TJ looks at the swing next to Cyrus’s]

“Go on, you look like you need it.”

And from there TJ and Cyrus swing together whilst talking. Cyrus asks TJ “What do you have to feel bad about? You’re the captain of the basketball team!” and TJ answers with “You don’t know me. I’ve got stuff.” Then Cyrus retorts with “Bet you I’ve got more stuff.” TJ responds with, “Oh, yeah? Bet you I can swing higher.” To which Cyrus replied with “I’m afraid to swing high, that’s part of my stuff.” TJ encourages Cyrus to go higher before jumping off of his swing and going to push Cyrus. At first Cyrus was scared and screaming, but he warms up to it and even says “That was exhilarating!” after TJ does an “underdog” (which I guess is when one person goes underneath the swing of another while the swing is moving). This shows that TJ kind of helped him over come this part of his “stuff,” or at the very least feel a bit better about it. This encounter also earned Cyrus the nickname “Underdog” and TJ “Not-So-Scary-Basketball-Guy.” Unfortunately, this bonding moment was interrupted when Buffy came and TJ decided to leave, but not before saying, “Thanks for reminding me about swinging. That helped.” Cyrus left with a “You know where to find me,” directed at Buffy as well as “and so do you,” directed at TJ. Buffy then talks to TJ and says that she thinks he has a learning disability called dyscalculia. TJ gets angry at Buffy and storms off.

The next time TJ is shown is when Cyrus invites him to his Bar Mitzvah. While there TJ ends up asking a fortune teller if he has a learning disability. The fortune teller confirms that he does and TJ goes to tell Buffy that she was right, but doesn’t get to.

After this, TJ refuses to tell anyone and gets himself benched during a basketball game. Cyrus notices and he goes to TJ and says, “I’m here to see if you’re okay,” but he dismisses him with “How about, you’re not here at all?” TJ then leaves the gym after seeing Buffy score and hearing everyone cheer for her. Unknown to him, Cyrus follows and sees him at the vending machine (“Eating your feelings? I do that.”). They then sit down at a table together and their conversation goes like this:

“Think they’ll win without me?”

“I don’t even know who they’re playing.”

“The Raptors. ...I should be in that game!”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Because I’m failing math. They won’t let me play basketball because I can’t do some stupid equations! How are those things even related?”

“Maybe you should get a different tutor.”

“What I need is a different brain.”

“What’s wrong with yours?”

This is where TJ tells Cyrus about his “math dyslexia,” which Cyrus identifies as dyscalculia. TJ explains to Cyrus how Buffy wants him to tell his math teacher about his learning disability, but he views it as a weakness and would rather suffer than get help. Cyrus comforts TJ by saying, “There is nothing wrong with you,” and reassuring him that a lot of people have learning disabilities. He goes on to say that since TJ has dyscalculia, his math teacher can’t fail him. Hearing this causes TJ to start to change his mind. TJ thanks Cyrus and says, “Buffy may have been right, but you were the one that really helped me.” During this scene it was also mentioned that the main reason why TJ had been so mean to Buffy was because he felt that she would take his place on the basketball team, and he didn’t want that because he felt that basketball was the only thing that he was really good at, and the only thing that people praised him on. While this isn’t an excuse for TJ’s attitude toward Buffy, it’s at least a reason. After that he tells his coach about his dyscalculia and gets readmitted to the basketball team, but he decides to tell the coach about a time when Buffy allowed TJ to copy her homework. This results in Buffy being temporarily suspended from the basketball team. Also, during an encounter with TJ in which he informs Buffy of her temporary suspension, Buffy realizes that someone must’ve told him about how she liked to be told that she’s right because he’d been saying it more often. The only viable suspect would be Cyrus. So, Buffy confronts him about it, which causes the two to have a fight and Buffy tells Cyrus to choose between being friends with her or TJ. Although Cyrus says that he chooses Buffy, she still refuses to talk to him. Fortunately, they make up before Buffy moves away. Unfortunately, Buffy ignores Andi and Cyrus immediately after she leaves.

With Buffy being gone, TJ feels more comfortable spending time with Cyrus. They end up seeing each other at The Spoon (a diner where Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus typically hang out) and Andi and Cyrus allow TJ to sit with them, but not before he’s forced to apologize to Time-Capsule-Buffy. Despite this, Cyrus is dodging the topic of conversation that him and Andi had been talking about before TJ sat down. This resulted in TJ saying, “You let me sit down, but you won’t even talk to me?” Cyrus attempts to express that he’s having a personal physical problem but his wording makes it come out wrong. This causes him to immediately back track and instead just tell TJ about his problem, which ends up being that he can’t do a somersault. Based on TJ’s behavior earlier on in the show, one would expect that he would make fun of Cyrus, yet it seems that he keeps surprising viewers by instead being kind towards Cyrus, while he seems cold to others. TJ responds to Cyrus with, “Listen, Underdog. You can’t do a somersault? I can help you with that.” Cyrus agrees but the table goes quiet as Jonah and Natalie join them. Andi feels awkward and ends up leaving. TJ then says that he has to go to work. Cyrus gives him a desperate look, not wanting to be left alone in the uncomfortable situation, and TJ says, “You wanna come with me?” to which Cyrus quickly, and ecstatically agreed. Cyrus is immediately thrown off guard when he finds out that TJ works at a gym, but TJ insists that this one isn’t so bad and that it was where Cyrus would learn to do a somersault. Sure enough, by the end of the day Cyrus can do a somersault.

The next time that TJ shows up is when he and Buffy have a one on one basketball game. TJ agrees that if Buffy wins she’ll be let back on to the basketball team and he’ll make sure to pass to her. Buffy plays the game with him and wins, but she still refuses to rejoin the basketball team. When asked why she says that it’s because she’s going to make a girl’s basketball team. TJ is supportive of her. After leaving the gym, TJ decides to apologize to Buffy (the real one this time). TJ raps out an apology and Buffy accepts, claiming that they’re good now. Upon hearing this TJ and Cyrus are both happy and TJ starts walking away from them, but not before turning to look back (at who, we don’t know yet).

This shows that just over the course of season two alone TJ has developed as a character. He’s not only become a better person overall, but a better person to Buffy. He started out as a complete dick, and I think that we all can agree with that. But by the end of the season he’s shown a nicer side of himself and he’s admitted that he has a problem and has gotten help for it. Personally, I feel that this was an incredibly big thing for him and it helped establish the fact that he’s a dynamic character.

Now, there’s one last thing to talk about having to do with TJ’s character, and that’s season three. So far in season three we’ve seen TJ continue to be the good person that he was left as in season two. He’s been supportive of Buffy making a girl’s basketball team by going to the tryouts and giving her coaching tips to boost the moral of her team, which in turn will help them to act more as a team. Throughout season three, episode four “Hole in the Wall”, TJ really just serves as a source of encouragement for Buffy, but in the upcoming episode “Cookie Monster” (season 3, episode 6) he seems to play a much larger role. The promotion clip for the episode depicts TJ inviting Cyrus to hang out with him and his friends; Cyrus happily agrees. Then, it cuts to a scene where there’s a blonde boy (one of TJ’s friends) who’s saying “You should see your face right now, bro,” to Cyrus, who had been looking into a bag that the blonde was holding. The video then shows a scene where Cyrus is trying to convince TJ to leave with him because of whatever is in the bag. I’m not yet sure if this next episode will develop TJ’s character for better or for worse, but I’m hoping that it’s for the better. The one thing that I have to say that I’m one hundred percent sure about is that it’s good that TJ is asking Cyrus to hang out with them, and it’s also really cool that he isn’t afraid to show that he’s friends with Cyrus while in the company of his other friends.

I have high hopes that Disney won’t do my son (TJ) dirty in the upcoming episode.

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2018, Part V

We’re finally here. Thank you for reading. Or at least scrolling around to the movies that you care about. GREAT MOVIES

12. Minding the Gap (Bing Liu)- In part because it's produced by Steve James, Minding the Gap's easy short-hand is "Hoop Dreams for skateboarding." Because most of the film's pleasures come from following the subjects over the course of five or six years, that makes sense. What differs is that director Bing Liu is so young, which makes this a promising film if a less definitive one than James's feature debut. It’s trying to do so much, but it never feels calculated or constructed as it expands. Boldly, Liu seems to suggest that people don't really change that much, that what drives them or gnaws at them just manifests itself in different ways. The cycle of abuse ends up being a common element for the three skaters, and, as Liu admits on camera, domestic violence is the reason he made the film. (The treatment of it is raw, a blunt object when a more delicate instrument might work better.) He got the hard part right though: delicately getting us to care about people who sometimes don't care about themselves. 11. A Quiet Place (John Kransinski)- Strong early Shyamalan vibes from this lean chiller. Krasinski's directing debut, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, didn't do much for me, and I skipped his obligatory man-comes-back-to-hometown-because-his-mom's-dying follow-up. But the filmmaking really impressed me here just by understanding how to set the table of this kind of movie. A close-up on an important nail sticking out of a floorboard here, an effortless explanation of a rule there. The hang-up for a film this high-concept is that you get distracted by all of the unanswered questions. (How did he get a printer quiet enough to print out all of those radio call signals?) But this world is fleshed out enough, especially an eerie dinner sequence, to bypass that kind of stuff for me. More than anything, there's a sort of elasticity of shot selection that serves the suspense. A tender early scene in which the central couple is dancing while wearing headphones goes on for maybe twice as long as one might expect. So later, the cross-cuts and smash-cuts have even more weight because the camera was allowed to linger earlier. Here's maybe the biggest reason for the movie's success: The characters are all slightly smarter than the audience, whereas the temptation might have been to go the other way with it. 10. Black Panther (Ryan Coogler)- I don't know if I can add anything to the discourse on this meditative yet ambitious film. I do think one early scene points at what makes it special for the genre. When T'Challa is first named king, he has to be drained of the Black Panther powers to fight anyone who wishes to challenge the throne. A member of an outsider tribe challenges him and nearly beats him. It shows a) the world-building of this noble, fair culture, b) the existence of this fully developed clan that will be important later, c) just how human T'Challa is if his reign can come so perilously close to ending just as it has begun. Every scene like that has a logical purpose. Of course, once Killmonger, the best, most realistically motivated Marvel villain of all time, gets introduced, we return to that method of challenging the throne, and writers Ryan Coogler and Joe Robert Cole aren't afraid to let the worst possible thing happen to T'Challa. What occurred forty-five minutes earlier makes this fight seem like a fait accompli. And it's in this sort of narrative detail that the film is able to work up to its thematic purpose. The first half is about, to quote T'Chaka, whether a good man can be a good king. But the second half is about the responsibility of goodness. Show me where Iron Man bit off that much. 9. Support the Girls (Andrew Bujalski)- Although it takes place mostly in one location during one day, Support the Girls has a bigger world going on in its margins. We hear it on radios, or we see it in the people taking a pitstop in Double Whammies while they're on their way somewhere better. But the force that's really encroaching on the characters' insulated environment is Mancave, the national chain that threatens to put them out of business. "They have commercials and everything," one character complains, and we get snatches of those commercials that were presumably directed by Andrew Bujalski himself. It's ten seconds of content maybe, shot in a bigger, broader style than the modest approach of the rest of the film. But the key to understanding how far Bujalski has come is realizing that he is no longer making fun of the people in the commercial, even if they're jacked bros screaming for a boxing match. That portrayal is amplified, sure, but Bujalski is mature enough now to not ridicule those people. It's okay that they're just not the people he's interested in. He's supernaturally empathetic toward the rogue's gallery of people he is interested in, who spin the ordinary challenges of the working class into something extraordinary. The sunniest member of the team is played by Haley Lu Richardson, who deserves special recognition as the indefatigable Maci. I can't think of parts that are much different from her roles in this, Columbus, and Split, to the extent that people probably don't realize they're played by the same woman, but she rules in every single one. The sky is the limit for her. When a workplace is described as "a family," it's usually just a way for the boss to take advantage of workers when the "family" designation does nothing to help them: "I know I shouldn't ask you to work off the clock, but can you help me out as a FAMILY MEMBER?" Occasionally though, it does feel like a family when people work closely to one another for hours on end and depend upon one another for real life needs. This movie is about what happens when a work family is both control and support.

8. Roma (Alfonso Cuaron)- The trailer for Children of Men advertises itself as "from the director of The Prisoner of Azkaban and Y Tu Mama Tambien," and I remember an audience giggling at that strange CV. For one thing, at the time people didn't understand yet why someone would brag about contributing to a Harry Potter movie. But to pair that children's picture with either a Spanish title they hadn't heard of or a movie that they knew was sexually explicit? Who was this guy? Roma is who he is. I like some of his other films more--I would argue that his approach hurts the performances here--but it seems impossible for him to make anything this personal again. The baldly emotional highs that it reaches come not only from the direct simplicity of the story but also from the sophisticated perspective with which it's being downloaded directly from Cuaron's memory. (It's also, accidentally or purposefully, quite a political film at this moment in time. It insists, sometimes in the dialect of Mixtec, that these people around us silently washing dishes or picking up dog poo are, in fact, part of our family.) There's a moment when one brother throws something at another's head, barely missing, and they both stop in their tracks with fear about how tragically things could have ended up. My dad experienced a similar moment in his childhood, and he would tell the same story about Uncle Steve throwing a shoe at him any time we passed the wooden door with a dent in it at my grandma's house. What a tiny moment to live on for decades, in tangible and intangible ways. Cuaron claims that all of these moments shape us, and taking us to the moon was only a warm-up for resurrecting them for us. 7. Happy As Lazzaro (Alice Rohrbacher)- Alice Rohrwacher won the screenplay award at Cannes, probably because her script for Happy As Lazzaro is fundamentally unpredictable. Games of checkers are unpredictable though. That word doesn't quite cover the way the viewer is forced to guess at something as elemental as "What year is this taking place?" And none of the twists and turns of the storytelling--I refuse to spoil--would gel if Rohrwacher as a director wasn't teaching you how to watch the film the whole time with a rich, warm, light touch. Considering the purity of this vision as a fable, buoyed by realistic labor concerns on the other hand, it's a pity that people are calling Birdbox "crazy" when something like this is just a few clicks down on that service. 6. The Favourite (Yorgos Lanthimos)- When assessing The Favourite, the easy temptation is to say that because it isn't stuffy, because of its scabrous wit or its intimate filming techniques, that it "isn't your mother's chamber drama." It is invigorating, but in a lot of ways, the film isn't saying anything that the average Masterpiece Theater production doesn't. Instead it takes cultural touchstones about the emptiness of power and distorts them, much like the fish-eye lenses that Yorgos Lanthimos favors to photograph the palace. It says an easy thing in a hard way, with conviction to burn. Lanthimos seems freed by not having to write the screenplay, and every decision of his is rooted in making things more narrow. The barrel distortion of the fish-eye seems apt for this idea, but so do the secret passageways that Queen Anne gets wheeled through to avoid the lower rungs of the estate. Of course there's no outside world to intrude upon her majesty. But there's even an inner world to the inner world. (It's impossible to watch Olivia Colman's gonzo depiction of Anne's incurious indolence and not think of Trump.) I'm convinced that Emma Stone can do anything, and the final shot, an all-timer, only validates that suspicion. 5. Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot (Gus Van Sant)- You have to check out every Gus Van Sant movie, even after a few missteps, because you never know: He might take the emotional climax that you didn't even know you wanted and score it to inter-diegetic "Still Rock 'N Roll to Me," thus grounding real poignance with even realer goofiness.I'll admit that the bar is low, but this is probably the most authentic, least treacly movie ever made about addiction recovery. Van Sant, who wrote, directed, and edited, tells the story with patient command. We take Joaquin Phoenix for granted at this point, but everybody on the poster is exceptional. And Udo Kier gets to say, "Pop, pop. It's always about penises." INSTANT CLASSICS

4. A Star Is Born (Bradley Cooper)- In one scene Cooper's Jackson Maine wears a black leather jacket under a brown leather vest, and the movie itself risks that kind of hat-on-a-hat silliness and redundancy. But instead it comes off as the best kind of big swing, a comforting and warm serving of Old Hollywood. Cooper's camera knows how to embrace silence and let the leads play off each other to craft raw, touching performances. Sometimes the close-ups are so intense and focused that, when he cuts back to a master, it's disorienting to be reminded that there are other people in that space, in the world at all.The movie's deficiencies come from "Wait, how much time has passed?" moments in the writing, problems that I always have had with Eric Roth projects. But it's easy to get swept up in a movie of moments that believes so much in itself.

3. Mission: Impossible- Fallout (Christopher McQuarrie)- The pattern of Mission: Impossible- Fallout is: infodump that explains the stakes and the strategy of what we're about to see, followed by an action sequence that is somehow even more thrilling than the one that came before it. Imagine a really interesting day of grade school classes, in which you learned, like, multiplication, followed by recess every other period. As for T.C., what more could you possibly want out of a human being?

2. Wildlife (Paul Dano)- When Jerry, Jake Gyllenhaal's groundskeeper of pathetic pride, figures out that his boss is about to fire him in front of his son, he smiles and, through clenched teeth, asks if this talk can happen tomorrow. Part of him actually believes that postponing the meeting will help; maybe the boss's temper will cool overnight. But this is a man who is bound by the same desperate spirit as his wife Jeanette, who muses, "Tomorrow something will happen that will make us feel different." When people are living day-to-day, clinging to their dignity--he refers to himself as a "small person" at one point--tomorrow really does offer a regenerative power. Those characters are the same-pole magnets that inform this coming-of-age tale, and the subtext of the film is "Can you believe Carey Mulligan and Jake Gyllenhaal have a fourteen-year-old son?" It works for the 1960 setting because these are people who defined themselves before they knew who they were, and they'll now do anything to re-define themselves as brave/sexy/valuable. But it works for the actors too. Gyllenhaal in particular is tender and heartbreaking in a true supporting role, allowing himself to look his age, framing himself with the dad akimbo arms. But Mulligan's fake confidence is great too, especially in a scene in which she nearly begs her husband to let her work. Something tells me that I should credit a director for coaxing two career best performances from two great actors. Some people just have it, and Paul Dano does.

1. First Reformed (Paul Schrader)- In 1998 I dragged my father to see Paul Schrader's Affliction, a movie that was kind of about my father's father. When the end credits rolled on that bleak, wrenching film, my dad turned to me and said, "I feel like I have to take a shower." We walked around a nearby hotel and talked for an hour, not that he was able to articulate why he was so shaken. We discussed the difference between entertainment and art and what makes a piece of either successful. Even though he hated the experience, he couldn't deny that it was an experience. He kept on saying, "That's not why I go to the movies." And no matter what I, fifteen at the time, told him, he couldn't understand that's exactly why I go to the movies. First Reformed had the same mesmerizing effect as the best of Schrader's work: When I exited the building, I stumbled into the sunlight because I had been trapped in someone else's mind for almost two hours.

Part of that effect comes from the narrative device of Reverend Toller's journal, which plants us in his headspace from the beginning. Part of it comes from the intimate scale of the film, which features only a handful of locations. But if what I'm explaining seems small, then I'm doing a bad job. The canvas expands. Schrader insists that our care for the environment is our most immediate responsibility; this film historian has no problem with planting the film at 2017 in dialogue. And that emphasis is matched only by his disdain for how big business encroaches on personal aspects of our lives. There's even a scene that tries to account for a recent rise in extremism among young people. As if to prove that he isn't being pedantic, he has one character communicate one of those ideas, letting you assume that role is his mouthpiece, then he has another character reply with something just as convincing. First Reformed weaves in those elements, but it's ultimately a character piece that humanizes the type of person we think we know but for which we have no frame of reference. In Ethan Hawke's piercing performance, we see a Reform minister who punishes himself actively and passively for what he thinks are sins. He uses faith as an armor and as an excuse, being so of the mind and--as another character puts it--"in the garden" that he denies himself medical care. No matter what anyone else tells him, he is convinced of one of the tenets that Schrader could never shake from his Calvinist upbringing: There's nothing you can do to save yourself.

[carmenlire]

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 10

read chapter one on ao3

read on ao3

Alec wakes up early the next morning, rolling out of bed with a faint groan. Half asleep, he throws on a pair of workout pants, laces up his Nikes, and heads to the kitchen. The sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon. Jace and Alec are up and ready to face the day.

Jace is just finishing the last of his protein shake and looks up when Alec enters the kitchen.

“Hey, bro, what are you doing up so early?”

Alec makes a beeline for the cupboard. Moving over to the sink, he fills his water bottle up.

Without looking up, he grunts out, “Thought I’d go for a run this morning.”

Jace’s eyes light up. “Why don’t you come to the gym with me? I can always spare a few hours to kick your ass.”

Alec opens his mouth to refuse-- he's in damned good shape but he doesn’t literally work out for a living-- but abruptly closes it. He’s hanging out with Magnus tonight for the first time properly and a few hours sparring with Jace might ease the tension that’s begun creeping up his spine.

Nonchalantly, he shrugs. “Yeah, okay, man. Sounds good. When do you want to leave?”

Jace looks surprised for a moment-- Alec usually takes more convincing-- but he’s grinning the next second.

“If you’re ready, we can head in now. I have Raj opening this morning so I don’t have to be in until six.”

Alec goes to his bedroom and grabs his phone, keys, and headphones. He throws on a faded t-shirt and meets Jace in the entryway a few minutes later.

It’s a short distance from their building to Jace’s gym Fuel-- a fifteen stroll or just a five minute jog. They’ve barely cleared the front door of their building before Jace is taking off, sprinting down the block. Alec shakes his head head but ups his pace, his long legs letting him catch up to Jace in seconds.

The two of them run through New York, feet pounding against pavement, wide smiles on their faces.

It’s only 5:45 and the streets are deserted, only early morning vendors and eateries up at this time. It’s quiet, only their ragged breathing disturbing the calm, and Alec loves it. While he’s used to his solitary runs, and there’s a certain enjoyment in those, he can’t deny that running with Jace brings him back to a simpler time-- they took track together in high school and it makes Alec think that those days aren’t a universe away.

They reach Fuel at the same time, with Alec slapping the front door a split second before Jace. The victory is a little hollow as both of them are panting, bending over at the waist trying to get their breath back.

The two of them have always been stubbornly competitive.

After a few minutes, they head in, walking right into Jace's office.

It never fails to surprise Alec that Jace is a businessman. He turned his lifetime passion of being an athlete-- with a minor stint at professional rugby-- into a competent business plan. There’s a mile long waiting list to join this exclusive gym. Alec’s relation to Jace might have a little to do with it, but there’s no denying that Jace has built a fantastic fitness center. He has half a dozen employees who teach a variety of classes and the reception area holds a display case with a few dozen awards that Fuel has racked up in a little over five years.

After ditching their stuff in Jace’s office, they head to the third floor where the sparring and weight area is located. Even though it’s so early, the before-work crowd isn’t inconsiderable and the two of them claim the last matted section.

While Jace stays to keep their spot, Alec heads over to the side of the room where various materials like tape, water, and towels are kept. He takes one of the spools of fighter’s tape and works on wrapping one of his hands while he walks back to Jace. He finishes wrapping his hands while Jace is engaged in conversation with a few of his members.

Jace is wearing his ever present cocky grin and stretches a little, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Alec tosses the tape to him. In just a minute the two of them are ready to start.

Alec focuses and when Jace throws the first swing, he’s ready. It’s several minutes of back and forth-- both of them landing lucky hits-- when Alec swipes a foot across the mat and brings Jace down, hard, on his back.

That doesn’t bring Alec instant victory, however, as Jace manages to hit him in the back of the knee, taking him down. They grapple for several minutes-- goddamn Jace is like an eel-- before Alec sees an opening when Jace lets his guard down for half a second.

It’s long enough, though, and Alec straddles Jace’s legs, gets a grip on his arm, and brings his forearm to Jace’s throat.

There’s a beat of silence before several loud cheers echo in the room.

Startled, Alec rolls over and springs to his feet only to see the staff and all of the patrons on this floor applauding his first round win.

Jace has the good grace to look sheepish, shrugging in a what can you do manner. Alec grins while swiping his sweaty hair away his face. Everyone only lingers for a minute before going back to what they were doing, leaving Jace and Alec to themselves.

Alec reaches a hand down to haul Jace up to his feet.

“Oh yeah,” he says, mockingly, “You really kicked my ass.”

Playfully shoving him, Jace shakes his head, ruefully. “I thought you’d gone soft while on tour. I should have known that wouldn’t be the case. How much can you even bench press these days, bro?”

Alec shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t keep great track. I think I’m up to 180?”

“Damn, son, maybe I should hire you on after you get tired of that singing crap. You could teach some weight lifting classes.”

Alec laughs. “And have to deal with people all day? No thanks. That’s my idea of a nightmare.”

Jace stares at him blankly. “That’s literally your life. You talk to people every single day, strangers, and a lot of the time they're intrudin into personal moments. You handle that just fine. What the hell would the difference be?”

Scowling, Alec replies, “You know damned well what the difference is. When fans talk to me-- or even the media-- it’s because my music is important to them. I’m always there for personal conversations, not to listen to Chad tell me about his latest beer-fueled score over the weekend.”

Jace snorts. “Alright, you got me there.” There’s a pause before Jace slyly asks, “So no one’s caught your eye? Chads off the list, but what about another guy?”

Alec just shakes his head, though his mind can’t help but flash to Magnus, the traitorous bastard. “No, Jace. I’m not like you. I didn’t meet the love of my life in high school and I’m not pining for a husband of my own. I’m just doing my own thing.”

Jace takes a step back, bringing his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

“Okay, buddy, I was just wondering if there was a chance that you would settle down this decade.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “I’m only twenty-six, Jace. I have plenty of time before I have to find The One. Besides, I'm having plenty of fun exploring my options.”

“Say no more, man. We all know just how much you like not being tied down.”

Alec laughs at Jace’s words but he can’t help but feel a little stung. It’s not Jace’s fault that he doesn’t know that Alec is feeling stifled, like he’s desperately hoping for the next chapter in his life to begin without having any real idea about what to expect in said chapter.

He also doesn’t know that Alec’s been prohibited from working for the next three days and that it might be affecting him a little more than he’d originally thought.

The first round of sparring helped Alec forget all the uncertainty that’s currently plaguing his life: his career and Magnus taking up all available thinking space.

With Jace’s innocuous words, though, Alec can’t help but focus on one of those areas.

And it certainly isn’t work.

No, Alec’s thoughts are now filled with plans for tonight. It’s a completely innocent meet-up, most would say dreadfully boring. It’s a lecture at the New York Public Library about a political history topic: fascism.

There’s nothing sexy about that.

Alec hasn’t been so excited about someone new in ages. If he really tried, he might not be able to remember the last time, period. He’s only seen Magnus twice-- once in the middle of the night at a crappy hole-in-the-wall diner and the second time at Uptown Java when he definitely wasn’t dressed to impress.

This will be the third time they're seeing each other in person, and even with the mountain of texts, something in Alec is decidedly nervous.

Which is utter bullshit but when has life ever obeyed his rules?

Alec doesn’t get nervous about dates. He’s carefully cultivated-- through absurd Lothario rumors and an utter refusal to care about what the press thinks-- a playboy reputation. He likes men, he likes having a good time, and as long as everyone involved consents, there’s nothing to kick up a fuss about.

His career has enabled him the ability to converse with a range of people about a variety of topics and he’s comfortable in all manner of situations that would send most people heading for the hills. He’s seen-- or done-- it all and Alec two weeks ago wouldn’t have thought it possible that he’d be this wrapped up in a boy, especially when things are so damned platonic.

Alec’s starting to realize that with all of his escapades and one night stands, there’s a definitive line that he hasn’t dared to cross in years. Alec hasn’t thought twice about someone in ages. He’s weirdly excited to see Magnus again-- just the thought of those intelligent eyes and broad shoulders makes him wish the next twelve hours would fly by.

It also ensures that he’s not paying attention, giving Jace the perfect opportunity to knock him flat on his ass.

Alec’s wince is easily ignored as Jace crows about winning the second round. Ever magnanimous, though, he helps Alec back to his feet without hesitation.

“Bro, what the fuck was that? You were wide open and didn’t even see the punch coming.”

Straightening while making sure Jace didn’t bruise his kidney, Alec glares across the mat. “I was preoccupied.”

Brows hitching up almost to his hairline, Jace asks, incredulously, “Oh? And what distracted the great Lightwood from a 2:0 record?”

Stubbornly refusing to acknowledge his increasingly red cheeks, and it's not just from exertion, Alec’s entire focus is on his hands as he makes sure his tape isn’t coming undone.

“None of your damn business, Wayland. Now, are you going to keep gossiping like my grandmother or are we gonna see who’s best two out of three?”

Jace’s attention shifts as fast as a blink and Alec throws the first punch, landing solidly on Jace’s shoulder. He’s thankful that Jace has always been easily misdirected when his arrogance is under question and then he lets everything else fall away except the need to make sure Jace doesn’t secure bragging rights for the next month.

Because he’s always been a glutton for punishment, Alec drags his already sore body to the second floor where the cardio equipment and regulation-size track is located and runs his usual five miles-- that tension has turned into nervous energy and he needs to burn it off.

By the time he stops the treadmill, he’s taken off his shirt, running in just his athletic leggings and tennis shoes. Breathing heavy, he uses his discarded shirt to mop his face, grimacing as sweat continues to roll down his back. He grabs his water bottle, taking a long drink, and turns around to see a trio of women staring at him.

Thankful for Jace’s excellent vetting practices-- anyone allowed membership here isn’t a crazed fan-- he just gives them a short nod, offering, “Ladies.”

The trio, who looks to be in their early twenties, fall into a fit of giggles and Alec smiles, just a little.

He might be gay but it’s good to be appreciated, no matter how shallowly.

Alec makes his way back down to the first floor and leaves without talking to anyone else-- Jace is currently in his advanced yoga class and Alec won’t interrupt him-- and heads outside.

It’s almost nine now and the city is buzzing as people rush off to work or school or wherever the fuck. Alec’s still shirtless but he’s thankful that he’s in the city that never sleeps as no one bats an eye.

About halfway between Fuel and his apartment there’s a smoothie bar and Alec ducks into it as he passes, regretfully putting his gross shirt back on. There’s only a few people in front of him and the line moves fairly quickly.

Alec feels eyes on him and looks up, straight into the phone camera that’s glued onto him. The teenage boy looks abashed but doesn’t stop recording and Alec smirks, blatantly acknowledging that he’s being filmed.

He doesn’t pay any more attention to it, though, as he moves up in line and places an order for an obnoxiously healthy smoothie that would disgust both of his siblings.

He sips it as he leisurely strolls the rest of the way home. No one really pays him any mind and he makes it into his penthouse without talking to anyone else.

He heads straight to the shower, taking longer than usual as his three hour workout has left him feeling rather disgusting. When he walks out of his bathroom almost an hour later in just a towel tied at his hip-- he wants to stop by the kitchen and start brewing some coffee-- he shrieks and holds onto his towel in a death grip.

Simon is sitting on the kitchen counter, nonchalantly swinging his legs against the cupboards, eating Alec’s leftover Chinese from last night.

Alec sighs in resignation. That’d been damned good food and he was looking forward to leftovers.

“What the hell are you doing here, Simon. Wait-- how the fuck did you get in?”

With a mouthful of noodles, Simon gets out, “I was bored and figured I’d see how your forced break was going. Izzy gave me a key over the winter.”

Alec heads towards his Keurig and makes a cup of coffee, relaxing as the scent fills the kitchen.

“It’s going fine. I’m in one piece and I haven’t burned anything to the ground.”

Simon gives him a onceover, at first to make sure he’s not internally dying--too much at least-- before his gaze turns appreciative.

“Damn, dude, I didn’t know you’d been working out so much. You look like one of those Greek statues they have in the museums. You know, the homoerotic ones with the weird emphasis on veins?”

Alec takes a fortifying sip of his coffee before turning around with a pleading expression.

“Please shut up, Simon. It’s too early to deal with your weirdness.”

Simon jumps off the counter, throwing the styrofoam container in the trash before dusting his hands off in a dramatic fashion.

“So, friend, what do you want to do today? I thought we could have some bro-bonding time that includes netflix and PJs.”

Alec shakes his head, reluctant grin gracing his mouth. He doesn’t respond, just goes back to his bedroom, coffee in tow, and ignores Simon enthusiastically shouting, “Yes, I know you love me Alec!”

Alec changes into sweats and a ragged tank top with the arms cut out and checks his messages-- nothing-- before settling on the other end of the couch from Simon. Simon’s queued up the latest episode of Stranger Things and he hits play without delay.

It’s always surprising but while Simon usually loves to talk, when he’s watching tv he’s completely silent, total focus on the television. Alec, for his part, never likes talking, and they spend the rest of the morning into the afternoon watching most of season one, Simon’s legs over Alec’s where they meet in the middle of the couch.

It’s a little past four when Alec comes out of his Netflix daze and moves to get up.

“No,” Simon whines. “What are you doing? We’re only two episodes from the season finale.”

Alec kicks free of the blanket that he’d taken from the back of the couch a couple of hours ago and straightens, stretching his back, popping his neck from side to side.

“Sorry, Si, but I have plans tonight and I need to get ready.”

Simon immediately perks up. “Oh? What kind of plans?”

Already regretting opening his mouth, Alec says, “I’m hanging out with someone in a couple of hours.”

Simon practically salivates with this new knowledge.

“Who? Where? What? Why haven’t you already told me?”

“Just a friend. NYPL. Socio-historical lecture. Because you act like this.”

Simon leaps up from the couch, blanket falling mournfully to the ground.

“A friend? You have other friends,” Simon asks incredulously.

Starting for his bedroom, Alec throws over his shoulder, “Yes, Simon, as much as I know it hurts, you are not my only source of friendship. Heartbreaking, I know.”

“Who is this friend and why am I just now hearing about them?”

Bracing himself, Alec mutters, “Magnus.”

Simon shrieks loud enough to wake the dead and Alec studiously doesn’t look back, going straight for his closet.

There’s no escaping Simon now, though, as he follows Alec into the walk-in closet the size of a generous bedroom.

“Magnus? The guy who calls you Alexander in a way that doesn’t sound horrible? You have a date, dude!”

“No, I don’t. We are friends, Simon. I asked him to meet up with me for this program at the library and that’s it. He’s a history professor and I thought he’d enjoy it as much as I would. That’s it. End of story.”

Simon’s digging through Alec’s clothes and only responds absentmindedly. “You know you have the hots for him. I’ve never seen you so excited to meet a guy, even if it was a friend for a boring ass lecture on something that normal people don’t even know exists. Either this Magnus guy is a huge nerd just like you or he accepted your invitation just to spend time with you.” Simon looks excitedly over his shoulder towards Alec, who’s pulled a forest green button down of the hook. “Or, he’s both, and the two of you will live happily ever after in nerd bliss.”

Alec looks up and their eyes meet in the mirror as he holds up the shirt against his torso.

“Shut up, Simon.”

Simon sighs, long and drawn out, but his attention moves to other things fast enough. He shakes his head firmly before reaching out and plucking the shirt out of Alec's hands.

“Not this one,” he says. “Hold on a minute.”

Alec stands by the mirror, watching Simon paw through his wardrobe. After a few minutes, he brings an outfit back and Alec has to admit that he doesn’t hate it. It’s simple, just skinny jeans and a slouchy coral v-neck with a plain black blazer. Paired with his converse, it’s casual enough for a relaxed meet-up at a library but dressy enough to look like he didn't just roll out of bed.

Alec changes, not bothering to leave the closet-- Simon and him have seen each other in all matter of undress-- and when he turns back to the mirror, Alec likes what he sees.

Simon wolf whistles and while Alec rolls his eyes, he can’t deny that it’s a confidence booster. He’s meeting Magnus in-- he checks his watch-- an hour and those fucking butterflies are back.

Simon might be effusive, but he’s a good friend, and he throws and arm around Alec’s shoulders as they both look in the mirror.

“No need to be nervous, dude, it’s just hanging out. What, two hours of listening to some old guy talk about history and then the two of you exchange pleasantries and call it a night. There’s no pressure, here. You can’t even talk for most of the evening and if things end up clashing or not feeling right, you can dip out right after the program without consequences.

“But things will go okay. Anyone who can get away with calling you Alexander and makes you all dreamy-eyed has to have something to offer. Just go and have fun and don’t forget to text me so I know you didn’t actually meet with a serial killer or stalker fan.”

Alec shakes his head but bumps his hip against Simon’s and there’s a few minutes of companionable silence.

Eventually, Alec pulls away and straightens his lapels, giving himself a final once-over before turning around. Simon follows him out of his bedroom and flops down on the couch. Alec has no doubt that when he returns later that night, Simon will be in the exact same spot surrounded by empty takeout containers and smelling like regret.

Alec grabs his keys, wallet, and phone and heads out the door to meet Magnus.

[machihunnicutt]

Fic-vember Day 2

I’m back y’all. Reminder that if you send me an idea for a oneshot it will be my day 3 post. Here’s chapter 2 of the fic from yesterday:

Bubble Tea and Feelings (vld klance fic)

Chapter 2: and Feelings

(Or read on ao3.)

"Shiro you're not taking this seriously," Keith said with venom.

He held up two different shirts for Shiro to look at through the screen. He and Matt were in a tent on a mountain somewhere but Keith didn't have any other friends to consult.

"Keith, they both look good. It's going to be fine no matter what you wear."

Matt poked his head in the tent. "Is this the date with Lance? Holy shit I didn't believe it when Pidge told me this is too good."

Shiro shushed him and Keith buried his head in his hands.  "Ignore him. Lance is a good guy. You're going to be fine."

"Shiro when was the last time I went on a date?"

"Um...not since high school right?"

He winced. "Yeah, not since sophomore year." He'd been too busy studying his ass off every minute since.

"Keith, relax. He likes you," Matt said from off screen.

"He what? Has he talked about me?" Keith felt his face go red. Shiro grinned at him before pulling his boyfriend into the frame.

Matt cackled. "Pidge is an excellent informant. It's going to be fine Keith. And wear the shirt on the right."

Shiro was like a brother to him. He was the first person he trusted. Shiro taught him that he didn't have to be alone.

"I'm being dumb right?" He asked in a small voice.

Shiro's gaze softened. "You're not being dumb. It's okay to be nervous about it. I was scared out of my mind when Matt asked me out the first time."

"You were?" Matt Holt's mess of hair tilted back into view.

"Are you kidding? Of course I was. You didn't notice how sweaty my hands were the whole time?"

"You think I noticed how sweaty your hands were when my hands were actually liquid?"

"Oh c'mon, it's not like I noticed that."

"Babe, you're actually changing the way I tell my 'how I met the love of my life' story."

"I'm the love of your life?" Shiro was blushing on the screen.

"Alright, so I've had enough of your romantic nonsense for tonight. Thanks."

Shiro smiled at him. He really missed him. "It'll be okay Keith. Trust me."

***

Pidge was on their break when Lance got the call. It was a slow morning. Lance had spent the majority of it staring out the window and thinking up endless ways this date could go wrong. The sharp ring of the phone didn't do much for his nerves.

"Hello, you've reached Holt Teahouse. This is Lance speaking."

"Oh, hello. I'm looking for Pidge Holt?" The voice was accented and hesitant.

"They aren't here right now sorry. I can take a message? Or you could call back in like 20 minutes. They'll be back from their break then."

"Thank you...um did you say this number is for a teahouse? I'm just a tad confused. I'm Pidge's advisor at the Garrison next year. They haven't been responding to my emails so I looked up the phone number on file and..."

"You're from the Garrison? Oh no it's all good. Pidge's family owns the tea house and they don't have a home phone so Pidge probably put this number figuring someone in their family would always be here." He laughed. It was a very Pidge thing to do.

"I see, so you know Pidge? I'm Allura. I graduated from the Garrison three years ago and now I work as an academic adviser. I hoped I'd get a chance to talk with them about their schedule and future academic goals before they arrived on campus."

"I'm sure they'd be happy to do that. Between you and me..." Lance lowered his voice in case Pidge happened to come back early. "I think Pidge is a little nervous about coming to the Garrison. They got picked on in middle school and their whole family has a history at the Garrison: Pidge's parents, their brother Matt, Shiro..."

"Pidge is related to Takashi Shirogone?" Allura actually squeaked. "He's quite honestly a legend."

Lance smirked. He knew Shiro was popular in high school...I mean, about as popular as a giant nerd could be. He was the captain of Science Olympiad and Matt's right hand at the helm of the national championship finalist Robotics team. He also played lacrosse and ran track and managed to take an actual record number of AP tests (scoring almost entirely 5s of course). Apparently his shadow still loomed.

"Well they aren't related by blood but Shiro's basically family. And I mean...if he marries Matt he actually will be family."

"You have a treasure trove of interesting information Lance," Allura said, sounding positively stunned. Lance thought maybe he'd said too much. He'd deny it if prompted but he loved bragging about his friends, even when it bordered on gossip.

The back door creaked open and Pidge came in, holding a container of French fries and looking a little pissed off. "Apparently I no longer look young enough to buy Happy Meals without being judged and questioned," they began before Lance interrupted.

"Hey gremlin, you've got a phone call. It's your Garrison adviser. Here they are Allura." Pidge instantly paled and reluctantly traded Lance for the phone. They took it into the bathroom and shut the door.

Lance was back to daydreaming by the time Pidge reappeared. They clicked the phone back into its dock with irritation and hopped up onto their usual stool.

"What was that all about?" Lance asked cautiously.

Pidge shook their head. "It's nothing she just wanted to talk about the Garrison. Move in day and what to expect and all that."

"Okay that sounds good. Why do you seem so angry?"

Pidge whipped their head up and glared. "I'm not perfect like Matt or Shiro. You know that right?"

"Pidge..."

They shook their head aggressively, arms crossed tightly over their chest and eyes lowered. Lance remembered seeing them with a similar expression the day of their middle school graduation. Lance had knocked on their bedroom door and fiddled when his tie.

"You okay?" He remembered saying. "Your dad wants us to go soon."

Pidge straightened the collar of their button down and gritted their teeth. "Let's just get this over with," they had said.

"What are you talking about?" Lance had replied. "It's gonna be great. You're going to high school. High school's like...way better than middle school. And like," he had stopped, feeling kind of dorky. "It's kind of rewarding walking across that stage. Even if it's not a real diploma."

Pidge's expression had lightened. "Alright. I trust you Lance. It you say it's going to be great then I guess it's going to be great," they smiled. Lance wished he could make Pidge smile like that again.

"No you don't get it," Pidge said, picking at the last of their fries and refusing to meet his eyes. "I'm not good enough. I'm just going to be made fun of and compared and probably misgendered too but that's a whole different can of worms."

"Slow down..."

"How am I supposed to be excited like everyone wants me to be when all I can think about is how I'm going to let everyone down and..."

"Pidge, stop."

Pidge blinked back their tears and Lance bridged the gap between them to give them a tight hug.

"You're not going to let anyone down. You're so much just by being yourself."

"You don't have to say that just because I'm crying."

"I'm not. You know I'm not."

"Well anyway. We should get back to work." They wiped their face with a napkin self-consciously. "I'm sorry I had a meltdown."

"It's only natural to be worried Pidge. That doesn't mean it's not all going to be okay."

"Thanks Lance."

"Any time Pidge."

He thought then that he should tell Pidge that they were his best friend. It wasn't something he'd said aloud. He didn't want to put too much pressure on them, especially since they were leaving for school soon. No matter what people told him Lance always felt like he was kind of a nuisance.

"Hey don't you have that date tonight?"

"And don't you have a phone call with Five or whatever his fictional name is?"

"His name is Seven and you should address him as Hacker God. Honestly though Lance please download Mystic Messenger. I need someone to scream about it with and Matt won't do it."

"Oh so I'm not even your first choice huh?"

***

Keith paced anxiously in his living room and shoved his hands in his pockets as if the answers were in there somewhere. They weren't. Lance would arrive any minute.

He ran through the same imaginary conversations he'd been having in his head since this morning. Imaginary conversations were enough to make his palms sweat tonight. Somehow he always ended up sounding stupid.

There was a knock on the door.

"Hey," Lance smiled an easy smile that made Keith fractionally less nervous. "You look nice."

"Thanks...I um, you look nicer." It was odd seeing him outside of the apron, in a shirt with a collar even. The sleeves of his blue button up were rolled to his elbows and his jeans were worn thin at the knees and cuffed in a way that highlighted his converse. He was just the right amount of dressed up and down that put Keith at ease.

"I thought maybe we could grab some pizza? My friend is the chef at this place near by that's really good. I mean I don't know if you're in the mood for pizza. Or if you like pizza. I guess there are people who don't like pizza right? Or they can't eat it for some reason..."

"I'm good with pizza."

The restaurant was warmly lit and smelled like fresh garlic and tomatoes when they got near the kitchen. The hostess recognized Lance and eagerly led the two of them to a booth.

"I'll tell him you're here," she said.

"Thanks Shay. I appreciate it."

Lance looked at home in the plush booth. He leaned his elbows on the table and slid a menu in Keith's direction.

"Your pick. Unless you want a salad or something. Or you're heathen who likes pineapple on their pizza."

Keith could feel his face heating up so he looked down.

"Oh shit, you are aren't you? I didn't mean it man." He looked nervously wide eyed for a second before Keith laughed.

"My go to is pineapple, yes. I already knew I was a heathen though." Lance grinned at him and Keith felt warm again. "I'm not picky. I'm fine with anything," he amended.

"I'd say. You've ordered just about everything on the Holt Teahouse menu."

“Yeah, well whose fault is that?”

Lance leaned forward on the table, elbows encroaching on Keith’s space and Keith nearly jumped out of his skin. “I’m still finding it hard to believe that you bought all that boba just so you could see me. No one really...I mean I guess I’m usually the one who makes the move.” He was looking him straight in the eye, honest, as the last traces of his teasing tone dissipated. Keith could see the freckles on his nose. They were probably from the sun. Lance looked like he belonged in the sun.

Keith hadn’t been on a date in years for several reasons: 1) There wasn’t really the time. He never went out because he needed all the studying time he could get. Even when he didn’t need to be studying he invented something to study for to dodge Shiro’s invitations. Studying easily became a cover for the fact that he didn’t want to embarrass himself. Shiro said he didn’t have a good work and free time balance . 2) He was bad at reading people. As Lance leaned forward he tried to deconstruct everything that had happened in the 20 minutes they’d been out and figure out whether or not he was making a complete fool of himself yet. And 3) Keith wasn’t sure he was a person worth dating.

So it was odd to be faced with the same brand of nervous insecurity that he felt 95% of the time. Especially when it came from someone who seemed a lot more in control than he was.

“Lance, I…”

“Hey Lance, how’s the teahouse?” They were interrupted by a man with an apron who looked like he was made of sunshine and Keith quietly shrunk.

“It’s great Hunk, you should stop by sometime. I can get you a discount.” Lance winked exaggeratedly.

Hunk laughed. “I might take you up on that. I’m sorry for intruding though.”

“Oh, right, Hunk this is Keith. Keith this is my friend Hunk.”

They exchanged pleasantries and Hunk took their order while he was there, promising that the food would be out quickly.

“Your friends seem really nice,” Keith said, once he’d gone. Pidge too, had seemed like someone worth getting to know.

“My friends are awesome,” Lance said with a grin. “The best part of spending the summers here is that I get to see everyone. It’s funny, because when I get back to campus all I can draw is the teahouse and Pidge and Hunk and Matt. All my inspiration is here.” He leaned in again. “But don’t tell them I said that. It’ll go to their heads.”

The pizza came and Keith convinced Lance to try a piece with pineapple, which he begrudgingly admitted wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Lance showed him some of the art he had pictures of on his phone and Keith laughed at the absurd joy in the eyes of the Holt siblings who he’d drawn pouring intensely over a game of Yahtzee. The pieces in color were vibrant and larger than life: the sunset bleeding into the forms of his friends along the horizon, a cup of bubble tea with miniature mermaids in teals and purples swimming among the boba that looked more like pearls, a lion done entirely in blues yawning lazily like a house cat. Keith groped for the words to compliment him, but he was never very artistically minded and everything he said didn’t feel quite right. Lance’s work was beautiful but it was more than that. He , was more than that.

“Do you want to get ice cream or something?” Lance asked carefully after they’d paid. “If you’re too tired I totally understand I’m just having a nice time so…”

“I’m having a nice time too. Ice cream would be great.”

It was only a couple blocks to the nearest ice cream place. They walked slowly, and when Keith got too nervous to look at Lance he looked up at the stars instead. And it was nice. It was nice and easier than he thought it’d be.

“Shiro’s kind of right about me being a hermit,” he muttered after they’d ordered (cookies and cream for Keith, peanut butter chocolate for Lance.) “It’s my fault I didn’t meet Matt or Pidge or you sooner. I kind of...close myself off sometimes.”

“Well you’re studying right? No one can blame you for having a lot of work to do. That’s why you’re here,” Lance said gently. His ice cream was melting off the cone and he turned his head to the side to chase the mess of chocolate before it got to his hand.

“Yeah, you’re right I just...nevermind, this is probably too much to get into when we hardly know each other.”

“Dude, you can’t just say that and not finish your thought. Also, we’ve known each other all summer technically.”

Keith laughed and stole a glance at him. His eyebrows were furrowed as if in preparation to think very hard about whatever Keith was going to say next. Keith looked back up at the deep blue of the sky.

“I think I use school as an excuse a lot of the time. I think it’s just easier to make myself too busy for other people so I don’t have to worry about letting them in and letting them hurt me.”

“You think people are going to hurt you?”

“Not right away maybe but…”

“Eventually? Do you think I’m going to hurt you eventually?” He stopped. “Assuming there’s an eventually I guess.”

Keith shook his head aggressively. “No, maybe. It’s just scary to risk it. It’s easy to be alone.”

Lance considered this for a moment. The silence hung while Keith questioned every stupid, overly personal thing he’d just revealed about himself in the past 30 seconds.

“I think it’s worth it though,” he said at last. “To let people in. I think that even if you get hurt you get happiness and love and people to talk to, you know?”

“I’m trying...I’m trying to know.” Keith laughed. “That sounds so stupid but it’s all I’ve got.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to say that.”

“No, I mean it. It’s not stupid.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey,” Lance hesitated. “Could I maybe draw you really quickly?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tiny notebook and stub of a pencil.

“Me?” Keith felt his face go red. “Right now?”

“Yeah, I want to remember this conversation.”

“Okay.” He looked over at him and saw that his hands were already moving, face scrunched up in concentration as he drew.

Keith listened to cars go by and bugs making noises and the faint echo of the radio from inside the ice cream shop and then Lance started talking, eyes still focused on his drawing. “I think I have the opposite problem. I get so attached to people that I start to worry.”

“About what?”

He stopped and looked up at him for a second. “I don’t think people like me as much as I like them. Sometimes I feel kind of useless.”

Keith couldn’t imagine why someone like Lance would feel useless.

"From what I've seen it seems like there isn't anyone who doesn't think you're great." He tripped over the double negative but recovered. "Everyone likes you...myself included."

Lance smiled and it wasn’t the unrestrained grin from earlier. It was small and hopeful and a little insecure.

“Thanks Keith.”

***

“If I commission you will you draw me Seven?” Pidge was balancing on the stool by the outlet again, scrolling through something on their phone.

“Seven what?” Lance asked distractedly, he was focusing on not spilling tea everywhere.

“Seven the character from Mystic Messenger,” Pidge said exasperatedly. “I know you don’t care now that you have a boyfriend and all but this is important so…”

“Keith’s not my boyfriend. We went on one date.”

“Yeah whatever. You’re gonna get a boyfriend and stop hanging out with me and I’ll have to be fine with it because I can’t get mad at some guy who gets you excited enough to call me at 1 a.m.”

Lance swatted them with his free hand. He had called Pidge at one last night to recount all the details of the date. He’d intended to wait until morning but he couldn’t sleep. And thanks to that stupid game they’d been up anyway.

“I’m not even. I wouldn’t just stop hanging out with my best friend.”

Pidge tilted on the stool and set their phone down. “I’m really your best friend?”

Lance frowned. “Yeah, of course you are.” It was something he should've said a long time ago, but apparently this was the summer of laying feelings directly on the table. Their age difference had always made their friendship a little odd. Pidge would complain about middle school while he tried to assure them that high school was better and when they ran into Lance’s or Pidge’s other friends at the movie theater they often thought it was a babysitting situation. But it never mattered to Lance.

“You’re my best friend too,” they said, adjusting their glasses.

He set down the pitcher of tea. “Look, I know you’re worried about high school and fitting in and Matt being the golden child and all that but I think you’re forgetting that you’re the most badass person I know.”

Pidge scoffed.

“No seriously, you’re just unapologetically yourself and that’s so brave and so rare. You’re ahead of the curve. Everyone else will catch on eventually.”

“And then I can be their god?” Pidge laughed sardonically.

“Sure, you can be their god you weirdo.”

They hugged their knees to their chest atop the stool. “You really think it’ll be alright? Allura was nice and all but every time she calls about advising stuff I just freak out.”

“It’ll be alright. I promise. And I’m just a phone call away.”

As if on cue the teahouse phone rang. Lance glanced at it knowingly and Pidge answered it. “Holt Teahouse this is Pidge. Oh hi Allura. Yeah, I have a minute.” They made their way to the bathroom, giving Lance a small salute.

Three hours later, after a slow day of limited sales, Lance was nearly dozing off at the ordering window. Pidge was looking through the high school course catalog with more interest than before. He jumped when he heard him.

“Hey Lance.” Keith was right in front of him, leaning his elbows on the counter. He had a huge smile plastered on his face and he wasn’t alone.

“Jesus Christ asshole when did you get back?” Pidge burst forth, jumping out of their seat and leaning through the open window to hug their brother.

“Whoa, language,” he laughed. “We just got back an hour ago. It was a nonstop flight.”

“Surprise,” Shiro said, slinging an arm over Keith’s shoulder. “I hear you two have met?” He said, gesturing between Keith and Lance.

“Yeah,” Keith said quietly. “I think we’re going to get to know each other a lot better too.”

Lance felt dizzy with happiness even when Pidge started teasing him and Shiro tousled Keith’s hair and the five of them ended up in a smooshed group hug that ended quickly but felt like it lasted all the way through Shiro’s recounting of their trip (punctuated by Matt reenacting the most dramatic moments) and Pidge explaining the entire plot of Mystic Messenger to Keith who listened patiently and interjected with questions of his own and it didn’t leave until he was in bed that night, staring up at his ceiling and listening to his own heartbeat. His phone pinged and he stared at the glow of the message in the dark.

Keith: See you tomorrow. :)

There was still plenty of summer left. Even when it was over they’d be okay. It would all be okay.

[goldeagleprice]

Viewpoint: YN Perspective Key to Hobby Future

By Radek Molchan

I am a Young Numismatist, and I come from a family that has no knowledge or interest in numismatics. I have been a page for many coins shows and I exhibit as much as possible. I enjoy the competition of the exhibits, and I enjoy being a page for the simple fact that if you work hard, you can make a little money and get some coins to add to your collection. Because I am around lots of dealers and people who are interested in coins, I have heard a consistent theme, “we have to get young people into coins or we won’t have our next generation of coin collectors.” It is also a common theme I read in coin magazines, I hear discussed and I get asked about most likely because I am the very youth they are trying to attract for the future.

I think the biggest failing in numismatics is that no one is asking the youth and no one is understanding what we are interested in. Let me provide an example from an exhibit standpoint. Exhibits can be fun and very rewarding, especially when you win. Additionally, you get to bring the exhibits back to your school and local clubs and gain valuable YN dollars from the ANA to participate in live auctions. The connection of having YNs exhibit and understanding what other opportunities they can use their exhibits for is a huge motivator for kids in building knowledge, interest in coins, and giving them collecting ideas.

One of the first exhibits I ever did was on “How to Be a Trillionaire: The World’s Devalued Currencies.” This exhibit was 100 percent my idea – no help or influence from anyone in any way. From being a page, I was able to bargain and collect a Zimbabwe 100 trillion bill, the Yugoslavian’s 500 billion-dinar bank note, Indonesia’s 100,000 rupiah as well as other devalued currencies from Greece, Zaire, and Vietnam. I then put together an exhibit with the date of the greatest devaluation of the respective currency and how many Happy Meals it could buy (and included a Happy Meal box in my exhibit for visual attractiveness). It was typed, triple-matted and I followed the judge’s guidelines closely. The irony is that I saw many people looking at my exhibit, so I must admit I felt a little confident in my placing in the YN category. The final result? I had the worst score of all the YNs. There were eight competitors, and kids usually share scores with each other. First and Second Place went to exhibits on WWII type coins, and third place went to tokens. While I thought first place was a well-done exhibit, I do not feel the second or third places were that well done.

Furthermore, two of the exhibits that beat me based on scores were poorly constructed, not eye-appealing at all and contained little to no numismatic information. However, all seven of the exhibits did have something I didn’t – they were old. Not Roman coin old, but generationally old. The judges are people that look at coins from their times or their parents’ times with reverence. I assume because this is what they experience, this is what they liked – they are familiar with it. However, those exhibits don’t resonate with me or my generation. While collectors that like historical context are very fond of certain types of old coins, the historical context of my generation isn’t very much. A World War II token isn’t as impressive to me as having a chance of being a trillionaire in various countries. However, from an educational perspective, I pointed out that even though you were a trillionaire in Zimbabwe at the height of their devaluation, that you would still have to borrow money as a trillionaire to buy just one Happy Meal. My generation understands Happy Meals, and we are also the generation that is experiencing more millionaires and billionaires than ever before. This generational understanding is important because it connects to us. Oh, remember me telling you all the people that were looking at my exhibit? They had one thing in common: they weren’t coin collectors. They looked like kids and moms that were caught by something that caught their attention because it resonated with their time.

Let me provide another example. There are barriers of participation in exhibits that involve youth. One of the best shows that a YN can participate in is the Georgia Numismatic Association (GNA) show. They make exhibiting, participating and competing easy and fun. Honestly, had I never competed in a GNA show early on, I doubt I would’ve competed in other shows. For example, if the GNA show starts on Wednesday, they will allow the YNs to set up on Friday. Why is this important? My parents aren’t coin dealers, so we aren’t going to be at a coin show on Wednesday or Thursday for set-up. I don’t own a car, so I become reliant on someone to take me far away to compete in a coin show as my dad explains to me that the yield on hotels and travel for three days isn’t worth it. I understand what he is saying. I have tried to compete at other shows in several other states and the chairpersons that run the exhibits always refuse to let YNs set up later.

So, if you are in Florida for a show and you live far away, you have to figure out how to get set up by Thursday morning and be around until late Saturday night. That is fine if you live close by; however, it becomes a barrier for a YN that lives far away. It becomes costly, and I am counting on convincing others I need help. My parents won’t budge on this, and I suspect many youths that would like to compete would do more if they could. I love the GNA as they work with the youth to give them a chance to compete. I have done shows in three other states and after the first time of exhibiting in each of these shows, my parents simply won’t go back. My parents are awesome as they don’t mind taking me anywhere to do a show if it is on a Saturday and Sunday – it is when I have to miss extra days of school and the cost becomes too high to compete. Competing is one of the greatest rewards for a Young Numismatist. You get a chance to win prizes and if it is a good show you almost always at least get a silver round. My point is that shows need to work harder to reduce the barriers for YNs, we all don’t have coin dealer parents that we are tagging along with. You want to get the youth that aren’t connected to the coin world involved.

In the spirit of exhibits, my last example is judging. A YN needs to be judged differently. I don’t have coin dealer parents, and I don’t have expensive rare coins. I generally work the dealer floor trying to find items for an exhibit. Additionally, I know my exhibit will probably not look as good as an adult that has been exhibiting for years. While my parents give me guidance and advice, they require me to do my own exhibits. I recently had two colonial notes in an exhibit that I competed with. They were the only thing in my exhibit that weren’t real. I put under them “Reproduction: For Educational Purposes Only.” The head judge said I was misleading and I needed to put an “s” after the word “Reproduction” because there were two of them, not one, and since the U.S. Mint was at the show, they could potentially get us in trouble for counterfeit money. My first issue is that the U.S. Mint never produced these as it was before the U.S. Mint even existed. My second issue is that to own these two notes would be very expensive. And my third is I felt that since they were mounted together with the “Reproduction: For Educational Purposes Only” under them, then this would satisfy any problems. 

I love collecting coins. I wish I had more, and I wish I could do more shows. I have learned lots about coins, and I am still trying to convince my dad to buy the ANA correspondence course for me. However, you have to look at things from my generation to help bridge the gap for the next generation of coin collectors. Assuming that we have still have it, I will be in Pittsburgh for the World’s Fair of Money 2020 paging and exhibiting (how I talked my dad into this show, I still don’t know). Ask guys like me what we like and what interests us. Let us give you a different perspective. υ

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