#Second Life: Troublesome Teens one-shot

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Heart of the Wild (Ch.2)

Notes: Originally it was suppose to be two Chapters, but alright, three. Apparently tigers can’t purr in real life? Well in this fic, he can bc of reasons.  I just wanted to add in Izuku being the adorable, helpful younger “brother” that he is in the fic :3

Warnings: Consensual smut. Like, right in the beginning when you first start reading, there’s some self stuff, but that’s about it.

He bit the back of his hand, pupils blown wide as he let out a growl of frustration. He was far, far away from his hut, but the lingering smell of an omega’s heat, could be carried away from miles. He tried not to let his mind wonder, to let his frustrations and pent up sexual desires get the best of him.

Of course, he had felt guilty, wanting to just fuck and claim the rabbit as his, but he refused. She wasn’t coherent, they were strangers, and he rather crawl in a trench and never see the sunlight again, than to take advantage of somebody like that.

His trousers were looped around his ankles, letting the chill of the cold air hopefully douse out the heat of his lust-filled mind. Ever since traveling far away from his parents, everyone was too scared to touch him, lest look at him in that sort of manner. Those who he was close to, he saw as sons and family, they were never close to the rabbit’s image that popped into his head, at this moment. He hissed, finding his hands wrapped around himself, tugging at the head as his hips moved on their own whim as he leaned forwards against the tree.

This was dangerous, he knew. Elbow in front of his face as it rested against the bark of the wood, he bit his bottom lip in a growl, letting the feral beast in which was his pent up lust, consume him. Although his length was barbed, it was soft flesh that didn’t hurt his hand. He knew that it was mainly a purpose to keep seed within the womb, not to hurt, and with that thought, his hips stuttered before he quickened his pace, thumbing the head as precum leaked out, letting his imagination run wild, before the guilt would settle in.

 Would she be shy? Or tell him bluntly in what she would want? He shouldn’t even be thinking of her like this, but it was tough not too, him having the primal urge to just wreck the omega in all of the right ways, preferably with a mating bite. He bit the back of his fist, hissing as his hips stuttered, painting the poor tree white with the gunk of his shot.

It wasn’t his first thought, or usual way of marking his territory, but it would have to do, for now.

…………

Sunlight had poked through the hut at this time. You, being freshly tired and worn out, had tried your best to feed the fire with what wood had been there. As for the bedding, you didn’t have an inkling on what to do with it, deciding to set it aside with your shame and guilt, and yet, relief.

A slow, slight knocking, had rung on the door, snapped you out of your thoughts as you froze with fear.

“U-um! Excuse me! My name’s Izuku! Tai-chan sent me here to check up on you!” A squeak on the other side announced, and your shoulders relaxed at the familiar name. He, like you, was a rabbit omega, if anything, he would be immune to your scent, and could help tidy up.

“Come in.” You announced after making sure that you were clothed well. The door creaked open slowly with shaky hands, a mop of green hair, eyes, twitching ears, and a freckled face peeked in as his scent, sweet grass mixed in with a slightly spicy tone, wafted towards you.

“Oh, good, you’re dressed and coherent!” He sighed with relief, inviting himself in, holding a bucket full of wool blankets, as well as a walking stick. Before you could speak, the other rabbit jumped in, first.

“Oh, gosh! I bet he didn’t say anything about this, didn’t he? I think Tai-chan knew what he was getting into when caring for an injured, heated omega, but he probably didn’t tell you that it was okay to get things a bit messy. Messes like slick are easily to clean, luckily, thus I brought the bucket. Oh! You must be hungry! There should be some leftover stew, Tai had said!” The dwarf rabbit rambled, his short ears twitching with excitement as he laid out spare blankets out from the bucket, as well as a hairbrush, twine, soap, a spare tunic, and a small jar full of a dark green substance.

He handed you the stick, rushing over towards the still bubbling stew as he hummed excitedly, introducing himself.

“Omegas are pretty rare, did you know? So I hope that we become good friends! The bucket is to drawl water from the nearest stream, and we can wash those dirty sheets, as well as you take a bath. Thus the hairbrush and twine, so you can put up your hair, if you want.” He explained, glancing at you with a sweet smile as he plopped several spoonfuls of soups into two separate bowls.

You thanked him, telling your name and your story as the two of you ate, talking between swallowing bites of food. The cheerful omega was younger than you, yet was in his late teens or early twenties, him stating that he had found Eiji, his mate, when the two of them were nineteen summer’s old.

“Are you around many omegas in heat?” You tried asking. For a second, he stilled, looking at you with surprise, and then shook his head.

“Our dynamic is so rare, it’s comical. Of course, I’ve had to find ways to spend my own heats, and found it easier when you bite somebody, or creating a mating mark. Also, when your mate covers you in their own scent, giving off your status as ‘taken, don’t bother’.” Izuku finished, setting his bowl next to your empty one, as he grabbed the bucket and used sheets and utensils.

“There’s a safe path to the river, I’ll give you some privacy, but be near enough to sense if you’re in danger. Since this forest has probably less than ten occupants, you should be safe with us around.” He explained, and you thanked him as you hoisted yourself up with the stick, avoiding to use your hurt ankle.

……….

You didn’t get a clear outside view of Taishiro’s hut, but when you did, you admitted freely, that it was beautiful and well built. As Izuku rambled, he shown you the small beaten path in which led to a clear, cool stream. Of course, he promised you your privacy as he gave you a bar of lard soap, the tunic, and the oil within the jar was to clean your hair. Laying the spare tunic and essentials on the bank of the stream bed, he rushed off, promising you that he’d be near.

You didn’t waste any time, slipping into the cool water, setting your walking stick onto the bank as you sat in the shallow stream. Being from a nomadic lifestyle, you were use to taking baths within rivers and streams with your fellow women, each keeping a lookout for troublesome snoopers. Since the forest was pretty dim, all you really had to worry about, were the smells of strangers. Feeling a sense of security, you relished in having your heated skin flushed down by the slow moving stream, helping matters greatly as you sunk lower, taking off your old wet clothing, setting it aside to lather yourself and it in soap.

When you were done, you were freezing, but cleaned and wet hair out of the way. Newly clothed and leaning on your stick, you shouted out for Izuku, and waited. Immediately, your new friend popped up out of nowhere, smiling as he held a bucket of clean, yet wet clothes.

“Let’s head back, warm up, and dress your wounds!” He smiled, brightly.

………..

Having Izuku around, had helped matters, greatly. Of course, he went home during certain times, refusing to part with his mate for a while, and you were left alone, yet safe, clean, and dry within the hut as you swore that the sweet yet earthy scent was stronger than ever. You guessed that he had came back when you and Izuku were gone, eating quickly, and reorganizing things.

Although grateful, you tried your best to help around within the weeks of your heat. You learned from the smaller rabbit, how to cook, clean more regularly around you, and even garden a little when your heat wasn’t at it’s most terrible state. Of course, you were apologizing heavily to Izuku from the other side of the door, stating that you couldn’t have visitors on some days, and he had understood, promising to be back, later.

While feeling gross and tired, you didn’t dare enter the forest, alone, opting to keep busy, tidying the small hut the best you could, and brushing out your wild hair, neatly braiding it, thanks to your new friend’s teachings. You didn’t see or hear from Tai, but his scent was always around, close and promising to protect, and that itself, comforted you at your most stressful times. Heat being heat, only lasted two weeks, and then the post-smell, had to fade.

By this time, it was safe for you to meet Eijirou, Izuku’s wolf mate, as well as Tai’s other adopted son, Tamaki, the ever elusive snow leopard who had promised to guard the area around the forest as a favor. Although strangers, you knew that they were trustworthy, putting their time and effort in making sure that you were alright, and of course, you couldn’t be thankful enough, making supper for them.

“Now that your heat’s over and ankle’s healing, where will you go?” Eijirou asked, and you felt yourself stilling. You didn’t think about that. Instead, you just smiled, and handed him a bowl of stew, telling him that you think of something. After everyone had left, you cleaned had cleaned up. The last time that you’ve seen the tiger, was when he had rescued you, and already, you couldn’t help but miss the person who was responsible for your safety.

It wasn’t right for you to stay, you admitted. Although he stated that you could find a place in the forest, if you wanted to, you had felt that you’ve already taken too much, especially his home and food. Your ankle was healing, nicely, and a week from now, Izuku had said that you could probably walk, but not run onto it.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?” Taishiro’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Quickly turning towards him, you’ve noticed that the man was holding the door open, looking at you quizzically. Seeing your surprised expression, he rolled his eyes.

“Been tryin’ to get yer attention for a bit, now. Mind tellin’ me what’s goin’ through that head of yers?” He asked, shutting the door behind him, as he sat down on a nearby stool. Your ears flickered before laying back.

“Where have you been staying at this whole time?” You questioned. At first, he had a blank look on his face, and then realization hit as his tail swished heavily, ears flickering wildly.

“You…were worried ‘bout me?”

You gave him a deadpanned look.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve been living in your home, using your food- Tai, you’ve looked out for me, a practical stranger, sacrificing your own safety and shelter…do you ever look after yourself?” You couldn’t help but blurt out, but then gently asking the last question. He swallowed thickly, casting his eyes to the side as warmth spread across his cheeks.

“I usually don’t do this for others, but it seems that you’ve shown yer gratitude by helpin’ out as much as ya could. Talked to Izuku, learned that you were really doin’ well, and given that ya’re concerned ‘bout me an’ tryin’ to pay it back, I don’t regret my choice.” He finished, warm amber irises daring to meet yours in his decision. It was your turn to break away from the oddly heated stare.

“I don’t know what’re gonna do, when yer ankle’s healed, but, I’d like to get to know ya, a lil’ more. If…if ya wanna stay.” He said it so quickly, but you heard it loud and clear.

“Tai-” You began, but he hummed.

“If ya wanna live in the forest, we could always build ya a small den, or a hut. Won’t be much, but it’d be somethin’.” He admitted. Without thinking, your body acted on it’s own accord.

“Wai-wah?!” He grunted in surprise as you hugged him tightly, burying your face in his chest as heat rushed to your face as you realized in what you had just done, but you didn’t regret it, especially hearing the sound of his fluttering heartbeat, and his natural scent in which calmed you down.  

“Thank You.” Was all you could say, really. To your small surprise, you felt his arms wrap around you as you heard very, very subtle purring rumble through him.

“Notta problem, Sweetheart.”

…………….

         It didn’t take your ankle long to heal. Being in the forest for the last month, you’ve admitted that not only had time passed, quickly, but you were getting more mentally mature and physically well. Of course, you were confused by your own feelings for the nurturing man, but you didn’t mind the too long hugs, the subtle touches in fixing bandages, and eye contact. You favorite had to be a border of pillows were between the two of you, as you both laid on the big bed, talking about everything and nothing while the fire crackled and lit up the dark room. It was a platonic distance, you refusing him to sleep on the harsh wood, and insisting that a pillow wall could work on the giant bed.

You never really shared one, but you liked his company as he talked about his family, his past, and how he came to adopt Eijirou and Tamaki. You listened intently, ever so curious, learning that he wanted to find a place of his own, like his father had before him, and settle down with a mate and cubs. You were lucky that the pillows had hid you, for you couldn’t help but feel your face begin to redden as he, oblivious to your small plight, went on about how basically everyone was scared of him, or didn’t want to do with him.  

   Your racing heartbeat slowed as he hummed that he was glad that he found his boys, the small wolf furiously protecting the slightly older leopard cub against stray coyotes.

“Winter’s cruel, but so are the lousy parents who leave their pups n’ cubs.” He said icily, a spike of anger seeped into his scent.

You liked him. Even when your ankle healed, he housed you as the two of you made plans to build a small space for you to live in. Fear of rejection had kept your tongue tied into silence. Your inner demons, although small, caged your rational thoughts as time crawled forward slowly. Since you have been able to properly walk, you’ve foraged, gardened, and explored more of the forest, collecting things that could be useful, as well as venturing towards the icy cool river to wash dirty plates and blankets. It was more so of your gratitude, rather than it being an actual chore, that you didn’t mind doing these things.

Taishiro himself, not only prowled to keep the area safe, but he had a lot of times shared time with you, insisting that it was his mess, too, as he scrubbed the soup bowls into the icy water. It being winter, he wasn’t as active in the spring, yet he had wood chopped not only for his small fireplace, but to be turned into logs for a couple of buildings, one was a small house for actual chickens.

You cocked you head.

“Chickens? Where would you get those?”

 As if surprised by your answer, he palmed his forehead.

“I’m kinda dense, Hon. I didn’t tell ya that there was a village nearby, didn’t I? Well, not really near, maybe a couple of day’s journey, but I thought nothin’ of it since I don’t really go there, often.” He admitted guiltily, but you were surprised that a village was within the reach of the tundra. Speaking your thoughts, his tail twitched as his ears perked, seemingly glad that you weren’t upset of his forgetfulness of the place.

“They’re alright, a lil’ skittish. They use clothes an’ food for currency, and every once a great while, I get some trousers or somethin’ from there.” He mulled over the idea, sneaking glances at your weathered tunic.

“Might not be so bad in getting’ some chickens. Fried eggs sound great, right about now.” He murmured, instead.

[starrenorth]

Here comes a short description of my fic When kids grow up and a preview of chapter one:

The haikyuu boys have grown up into adults and are enjoying the family bliss with their teenage kids. However, it is well known that when teenagers start their journey into adulthood, life can turn quite chaotic and troublesome for everyone involved...

Chapters: 7/?

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Underage

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Shimizu Kiyoko/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei

Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru, Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma, Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi, Sugawara Koushi, Miya Atsumu, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu, Suna Rintarou, Tendou Satori, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hinata Shouyou, Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Azumane Asahi, Nishinoya Yuu, Terushima Yuuji, Hanamaki Takahiro, Matsukawa Issei

Additional Tags: Family, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Parenthood, Post-Time Skip, Family Dynamics, Teen Angst, Teenage Drama, Rival Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Established Relationship, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Language, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Parents, Marriage, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Married Couple, Married Life, Teenagers, Teen Romance

Series: Part 1 of the chaotic life of the Haikyuu boys and their teenage kids.

Chapter 1 - summary: 

- Iwaizumi Eiko is secretly dating Ushijima Ryouta, the son of her father´s most despised rival, behind her fathers' backs.

Eiko couldn’t help but admire how cute her boyfriend looked where he sat moping. She crawled over to him and took his face in her hands. “Ushiiii” she cooed again, nudging his nose playfully with hers. “Pleeease?” And when she placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth, his resistance melted away quicker than snow on a hot day. And before she knew it, he was laying on top of her, their lips pressed together.

“You´re so damn beautiful, you know that?” Ryouta murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh I know,” Eiko answered shamelessly.

An amused chuckle found its way out of Ryouta´s throat. “No need for me to say it then it seems.”

Smiling, she tilted her head and blinked innocently at him with her lashes. “What? Did you expect me to argue against you? Thank you for stating the obvious?”

Laughing, Ryouta gazed down at Eiko in complete awe. “So this is what you get for trying to show your girlfriend some appreciation. Remind me to never try and compliment you again.”

She smirked. “Don´t get me wrong – I appreciate your sweet words. I´m just reminding you that I do not need them to know that I´m fucking gorgeous.”

“Wow princess. You have rendered me speechless.”

“In the words of my sometimes very wise father: ´Never let anyone but yourself determine your worth, especially if that person is an Ushijima´.”

“Very wise indeed,” Ryouta chimed in cheekily. “And has he said anything about dating one then?”

Eiko grinned sheepishly at him, eyes sparkling mischievously. “No. But I´m pretty confident in what he would say.

“You know princess, judging by that expression of yours, I´d almost dare say that you´re only using me so you can piss off your father the day he gets on your nerves,” he said smirking.

“My father gets on my nerves often. And when he does, I simply tell him that I´m considering transferring to Shiratorisawa and he will ignore me for a whole day. So there´s really no need for me to tell him about you…yet anyways.”

“And when will you?” he asked jokingly, but the sincerity in his question shone through nonetheless. This was not the first time he had brought it up.

“Tell me Ryo, do you have a death wish or something?” Eiko laughed half-nervously. “Or do you just want to make it official so you can brag to your father that you managed to secure an Oikawa?”

Knowing that this conversation wouldn’t lead anywhere, Ryouta just gave Eiko a lazy smile and continued to kiss her. But when the sound of a door suddenly being slammed open rumbled through the house, they both froze.

“Shit!” Eiko swore through clenched teeth as the distant bickering of two familiar male voices reached their ears.  She quickly pushed Ryota off her. “My dads. You need to get out!”

“Get out?! But my shoes are downstairs.”

“That is the least of your concern right now!” she spat out. “I´ll bring them to school tomorrow.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

“No, get out before my father storms in here.”

“Doesn’t he knock? Can´t you just tell him not to walk in? That you’ll be down in a second?”

“You clearly don’t know my father very well.”

“And who´s fault is that?” he said, narrowing his eyebrows accusingly at her.

“We´re not having this conversation now. Hurry up and get out before he finds us in here and kills us both!”

“But how?!”

“Through the window.”

He glared at her discontentedly, eyebrows raised high in his forehead. “The window? Really Eiko?”

Panic rose in Eiko´s chest as the humming sound from her father closed in as he ascended the stairs.

“Yes, the window! Are you deaf Ushiwaka? Get out!”

Ryouta gave her a displeased look but realized that this wasn’t the right time to argue.

“You owe me for this Princess,” Ryouta said as she roughly heaved him out on the roof.

“Yeah yeah,” she agreed before quickly shutting the window after him. The moment after her door shot open with a loud bang.

“Yoohooo! Guess who´s back home! and we brought dinner!”

Her father, Iwaizumi Tooru, former Oikawa, stood in the opening with two plastic bags in either hand and a big smile on his face.

“I thought you were going to eat out tonight?” Eiko said trying not to sound as if her heart was about to jump out of her chest.

“We were,” her father´s mirthful voice rang. He put his hand behind his head and grinned sheepishly. “But I may have mixed up the dates, so your dad is not very happy with me right now. And sure, I can understand why he would be upset, but you should have heard the rude things he said to me! And he continued to lecture me all the way home – even after we had picked up food at Momoya´s instead, which If you ask me is better anyways.”

Eiko had no problem at all imagining the words her father Hajime must have used. After all these years, she had probably heard them all. “Sounds well-deserved if you ask me. Dad had been looking forward to that date you know.”

“Ei-chan! And here I thought that you, my sweet and perfect daughter would take my side. But you´re just as cold-hearted and judgmental as your father.” He answered with a pout.

Eiko stared at her father and shook her head in disbelief at how a man of forty-five could act so childish. Probably because he still denied the fact that he was growing old, arguing that he was `no more than twenty-five in mind. ´ More like fifteen if you asked her. But to be perfectly honest, more often than less she enjoyed her father´s youthful spirit. Because although he could be a bit overbearing at times, there was nothing she couldn’t talk to him about. Or well, almost at least – Ryouta was the exception to the rule, but for obvious reasons. There was no other man that his father despised as much as Ushijima Wakatoshi, so she knew that he would not take the news about her and Ryouta dating well. Which was stupid, because besides his physique and talent for volleyball Ryouta was nothing like his stoic and blunt father Wakatoshi.

Thinking about her boyfriend, Eiko´s thoughts wandered back to the fact that she actually had forced him out of her window. And she suddenly felt incredibly annoyed with her father. Had he known some boundaries, Ryouta could have hidden in her room until they had gone to bed, but no. He had just stormed into her room like a pompous king with no regard of what she might have been doing.

“Hey Ei-chan, what´s up with that cross look on your face right now? You will get wrinkles like Iwa-chan if you keep furrowing your eyebrows like that. And that´s not cute at all. Although, your dad is still the second most handsome man in the world, after me of course.”

Normally, Eiko didn’t mind her father´s presumptuous comments, mostly because her own utterances tended to have a similar nature, but right now – already stressed and irritated – she couldn’t help her annoyance from spilling out: “Have you ever thought about knocking papi?”

“Knocking?” he asked, eyebrows raised in both surprise and confusion before his face formed an amused expression. “Tell me Ei-chan, why would you suddenly want me to knock? Got something you wish to hide from me?” he added with a wink.

She crossed her arms defiantly. “No, but some privacy would be nice once in a while.”

Tooru´s eyes narrowed slightly at that and when he eyed her suspiciously Eiko remembered just how intimidating her otherwise childish father could be. “Privacy you say…so there is something you´re trying to hi-”

Luckily for Eiko, her father did not have the time to finish his sentence before a darker and rougher voice cut him off: “Oi, are you bullying my daughter again shittykawa?” Her father Iwaizumi Hajime appeared in the doorway; a small grin visible on his face.

[wsgeon]

hey everyone! ummm this is peyton (also the mun of lee hyeon) taking a second shot at a second character — i have a lot of muse for this one, so i swear he’ll be around for a while… 🥵 this is ryu geon, yes his name rhymes with hyeon’s & no i do not care ♥️ he’s the lead guitarist/vocalist of meta and also the son of a former nobody rockstar, but i’ll get into all that below! like this post if you’d like for me to come into your ims to plot, click the read more for more info on geon, and/or click here to be taken to his pages: CAREER, DOSSIER, PINTEREST.

HISTORY.

born in autumn ‘97 to a “budding rockstar” (translation: “no yeah i swear our band’s really starting to take off, we sold twenty-three tickets to our last show!”) & a woman with commitment issues ♥️ geon’s dad always told him that his mom left because she had some dire matters that needed to be taken care of and SWORE that she cried the last time she held her dear baby boy, but all of his dad’s bandmates say that she was just some groupie and had to be persuaded into carrying her child to term… who can say for sure?

naturally, there are no pictures of this mystery woman. there was one (1) of her holding infant geon, but then he found out that that was actually a sound tech who worked for his dad’s band… and he just never corrected geon’s assumptions LOLLLL

anyway! he was always really close to his dad, considering they were a two-person family. he has a set of grandparents, an aunt and a couple cousins but they were never involved with geon’s life because his dad is the #blacksheep of the family. geon and his dad against the world, am i right?

uhhh geon was also kind of a black sheep growing up, but he didn’t really notice? he was a happy kid, very energetic and enthusiastic. a lot of adults in the area looked down on him & his dad, but he was SOOOO blind to it because his dad’s a god in his eyes and HE’S always been nice to everyone, so why would they not like him??? because his clothes smelled a little like dad’s cigarette smoke??? big deal

wasn’t troublesome (beyond talking too much), but a lot of people still expected bad things from him :/ “his father’s a dirtbag, i’ll be surprised if that boy doesn’t end up in jail by 20”, “he won’t amount to anything without a proper role model in his life”, “his dad is teaching him how to slack off”, “he won’t contribute anything to society”, etc. he kindaaa picked up on this as he got older but pretended not to because it was more rewarding to play dumb and keep being a good kid(tm) to prove them wrong

was basically a mini version of his dad. same style, similar features, birthmarks in the same places, same “live today, die tomorrow” approach in life, same affinity for singing & playing rock music. ummm he loved his dad a lot. a lot. a lot. wanted to make him proud SO BAD, started his first band when he was 15 and they sucked so bad but his dad was their biggest fan… you know how it is. a lot of people misunderstood him, but he was a very good guy and such a great parent

TW DEATH unfortunately he passed away just shy of geon’s 18th birthday and your boy still hasn’t forgiven the world for taking his dad when he was in the middle of his angsty teen phase — had he known that their time together was dwindling, he would’ve been so so so much better to him END TW

his dad’s band actually rocketed into the charts after he passed & suddenly they were getting loads of publicity, lots of “what a shame that he went under-appreciated” which pissed geon off SOOOO bad because why couldn’t they have had that energy when he was still alive? he’s still mad about it five/six years later

this is getting kinda long, so uhhh tl;dr, he ended up staying with the drummer of his dad’s band until he was old enough to live alone/READY to live alone, but he changed quite a bit. was really going through it, quit his band, stopped putting effort into school. barely graduated. went from being a social butterfly spending every weekend at a gig or with friends to spending all of his time on a pc or in front of a tv, playing console games. the internet comforted him when nobody else would/could and then he met the future members of meta <33333333 #newbeginnings

present day geon is still struggling, has to go to counseling bi-weekly but he’s coming back out of his shell! he wants to fall in love with life again, just wants to tread carefully... outgoing & will talk to absolutely anyone, but he still spends most of his time alone. hard to reach by text, so if you wanna talk to him, you better call/facetime LMAO. talks a mile a minute, especially if you get him going abt something he really likes. laughs a lot, smiles a lot, more habitual than actual signs of happiness but yk. ummm he has a really loud voice, mostly controlled nowadays but he still gets carried away sometimes. an absolute menace during long drives/flights, sorry meta.

funny but only when he’s in large groups. feeds off of other peoples’ energy, really good at reading a room and breaking the ice/making everyone comfortable, but if you meet him 1-on-1, none of his jokes land quite the same.

i envision him as being the kind of guy who carries himself in such a way that you’d assume he’s really popular/out of reach/maybe even full of himself, but he’s... not like that... at all... in fact, he’s kinda irritating when you get to know him. the personification of a flood followed by a drought and vice versa, always either too much or not enough. gets used/ghosted/dropped/dumped/whatever a lot because he’s soooo fun in the moment (if he isn’t in his feelings), but draining long-term.

really emotionally intelligent, in touch with his feelings in a way that a lot of people never thought he would be (probably thanks to counseling tbh). he’s very very rarely the type of person who will make you wonder what your place in his life is — he’s communicative, kind, honest. ummm he thinks that intimacy between friends needs to be more common, so he’s really affectionate with the people in his life. type of guy to tell you he loves you every chance he gets (calling you when he’s drunk, sounding like a clingy ex type beat) & greet you/depart with a hug. losing his dad kinda fucked him up in the way that he won’t leave/hang up until his friends say “i love you” back, gets kinda (re: very) upset if he’s denied that and/or a hug.

TRIVIA.

has been playing the guitar “longer than he’s been walking” (not really, but he swears it’s true).

uhhh he really likes nail art, but he’s kinda hesitant in what he tries? mainly sticks to black polish (or other plain colors), but sometimes he’ll get little designs added in as well. mainly does it himself because he still doesn’t feel comfortable in salons... if his work looks bad, leave him alone <3 he’s trying

inspired by people like kurt cobain, nicky wire, yungblud, billie joe armstrong & damiano david in the fact that he’s not against wearing dresses or skirts on stage. doesn’t do it ALL the time, but often enough that it doesn’t go unnoticed. some people say that he does it for attention because he doesn’t dress like that elsewhere and tbh they’re probably kinda right

interested in history (only SOME... dinosaurs, ancient civilizations, specialized areas like the history of circuses/clowns/skateboarding/punk, stuff like that yk), stand-up comedy & documentaries. could spend a whole day watching documentaries and would say he had fun, has a lot of useless knowledge that nobody gives a fuck about and is kinda dumb when it comes to things that matter

when it comes to music, he prefers playing really fast and heavy rock or punk over anything else, but he actually listens to a lot more soft indie on his own time... he’s too tense these days to be listening to anything else RIPPP

the vibe: homemade tie-dye, ripped slipknot t-shirts, frosted tips, neon crocs with alien & peace-sign charms, chipped black nail polish, calloused hands, cheesy pick-up lines used NOT to land a date but to pull a smile, driving until he’s lost, stupid socks paired with pressed suits, dramatic poetry in an iphone note, etc. 

PLOT IDEAS.

people he met through online support groups about coping with grief

uhhh an on & off relationship that’s been going for who-knows-how-long. the reason for this is up for discussion, but i imagine that he hasn’t given up yet because the constant highs and lows are a good source of inspo 🤪 artists must suffer for their art!

opposite side of the coin — someone he’s interested in, but he’s NOT disloyal so it’s a pattern of persistent courting when he’s single vs intense friend-zoning when he’s not and they’re getting tired of trying to figure out what he wants from them

someone else who likes nail art & can convince him that NOBODY cares if he goes to a salon

someone (probably female but doesn’t really matter tbh) who feels like his feminism is entirely performative… maybe they attack him directly for it or maybe they just REALLY don’t like him and they’re super vague about it idk. either way, please tell him that activism is much more than recommending one female artist a year and saying “clothes have no gender 🤪” so he can be praised for the bare minimum (his heart is in the right place but his skull is empty)

someone super introverted who comes out of their shell with geon! uhhh maybe they think that he’s the one doing them a favor, but in reality spending time with them has been doing wonders for his mental health

other people who like to skate. let’s congregate at the local skatepark and scare the middle schoolers away

someone who inspires him musically, for whatever reason. lots of late nights in studios, idly strumming his guitar and writing lyrics that definitely aren’t about how their eyes look in these dim lights… umm maybe he thinks he has a crush on them but really doesn’t and ends up hurting them eventually, maybe he really DOES have a crush but will (probably) never do anything abt it or maybe it’s entirely platonic and he just admires them a ridiculous amount

someone who likes to make music as a hobby, prob won’t publish/release any of it but it’s fun to imagine. spontaneous meetings with geon in the middle of the night, recording songs together and keeping the WORST takes for the laughs. there’s probably a diss-track of them going in on each other floating around somewhere even though geon can’t rap for shit

night owls who keep him company on the phone, even if they can’t be there physically. them talking really quietly vs geon shouting at them while he plays games LMAO

gaming buddies. come over, maybe you can carry geon through his game of the week or you can both fail but have fun while you’re at it… or you can scream while he fends off that hoard of zombies behind you

i’m typing this at the last minute (literally) so i’m gonna stop here, but i will get a proper plots page put up asap with a wider variety of connections!!! but as always, please do let me know if you have any other ideas. i’m always happy to plot and write with you all 🌚

[ghostiewriter]

meet james maybank | character inspection

This is an insight into James Maybank, a character commonly used within my outer bank fanfictions. He’s portrayed as JJ and Kiara’s firstborn and eldest son. This is just to give you an idea on what he’s like rather than having to explain in each one-shot he shows up in!

James Maybank is the eldest child and first son to JJ and Kiara, in the little second generation I’ve created. The couple had him when they were twenty-three years old, he was admittedly unplanned. Most of their early 20s were spent travelling and the pregnancy with James did change their plans a little, but they loved him relentless. In fact, it gave JJ an excuse to finally convince Kie to go to a bunch of different theme parks since they had a kid and it was “basically a law” for them to do so. Yet, despite the fact he was an accident, it didn’t make him any less loved. It was nerve-wracking, he was the first venture into parenthood that the couple had ever had but James was also just the perfect little mix of his parents (whether that made the situation better or worse is debatable).

The name James was chosen by JJ, a little nod of respect to his mother (something that will be explained further in a certain one shot). He was the perfect little summer baby, born on 31st July, smack middle of summer. Despite being born at peak summer time, James isn’t the surfer boy you’d expect him to be. He loved the beach, don’t get me wrong. He enjoyed all the memories he had growing up, learning how to surf and building sandcastles with his little siblings but much to JJ’s disappointment, James wasn’t much of a surfing fan.

But where JJ’s love for the ocean lacked in his eldest son, his skill and interest in mechanics did not. Ever since he was a young child, James had the oddest fascinations with cars. Maybe it started from JJ taking him to work on the few days Kie would be on the mainland for her own work or maybe it was because he grew up watching old episodes of Top Gear, but James Maybank became a motorhead. The second he was old enough, he would be at his father’s side, oil and grease on his hands as he learnt everything he could. It started as a hyper-fixation and ended up being a passion. And just like his mother, James has a bit of a ‘do it yourself’ attitude. He is stubborn as hell, so when he was young and his grandparents (mostly Anna Carrera) was openly against his fascination and passion to be a mechanic, well you can guess how much it fuelled him to pursue this career further.

Like mentioned above, he is a healthy mix of his parents but maybe the combination is more dangerous. Whilst he has the wit and quick-thinking of his mother, the boy has the schemer ways and knack for trouble just like his father has. Again, a dangerous combination. James is a charmer, he has a way with words that just traps people in and make them want to be around him. He is a natural extrovert, a social butterfly if you will. You can throw him in a room with anybody and he would come out of it with new friends, it’s just the way James is. Even as a child, he just seemed to hold a charm over people that could not be explained.

Though, sometimes it can be mistake for arrogance and this is where the trouble slips in. James is a very self-aware person. He knows that he is a good-looking guy, he is quite intelligent and a bit of a natural flirt. But by god does it make his ego unbearable at times. Kiara claims this is something he gets from his father, but James seems to have an issue in letting his mouth run sometimes and it gets him into trouble with others. He is a friendly, flirty guy—you can imagine how many times he might have accidentally spoken to the wrong person and how many times he has realised his charming words won’t get him out of a fight with a very pissed off significant other (James seems to have a habit of flirting with people that are already taken, again not on purpose but more just because he can’t help it). His ego is definitely one of his fatal flaws that will come to bite him in the ass later on.

Despite this, James is one of the most loyal people you can ever have in your life. As a brother, as a friend, as a son. This boy is just the epitome of blind loyalty. Once you are in his life, you are under the protection of James Maybank, I don’t make the rules. The people he cares about mean the world to him, and though he may have a lot of friends, his inner circle is smaller than you would think. These are the people he can let loose around, not worry about reputation or appearance. He can be his usual loveable but goofy self. James thrives on making people smile and laugh, especially those in his inner circle. So although he may be an egotistical bastard at times, he can be quite the sweetheart too.

There are a lot of relationships to go through so I’ll focus on the main ones in James’s life. The main one being his relationship with his parents. Much to Kiara’s dismay, James is a daddy’s boy. Since he could crawl, he would always be at his father’s side. It was nerve-wracking for JJ considering his fears of fatherhood and walking into the unknown, but he was the best dad you could ever think of. James has a very healthy relationship with his parents, a very open one too. He has grown up in an environment that he knows is a safe place and wouldn’t be judged so there was very little he had to hide from his parents. Plus the fact they were a part of an illegal heist when they were his age does help him get away with quite a lot of stuff. James was a bit of a tester though, considering he was the first child and his parents were only 23 when they had him, but it did mean that everyone was learning together. With his short temper (courtesy of his father), James can get quite heated in argument very quickly which was a pain during his early teen years, but after reaching that eventual maturity, his relationship with his parents was a breeze.

His relationship with each of his siblings is quite different. He probably gets on the easiest with Gabriel, purely because his younger brother is a fairly chilled guy and avoids conflict as much as he can. Gabriel tends to be the first person James would go to whenever he needs to rant or get advise (his younger brother is oddly wise) and he tries to be the same.

Whereas, James’s relationship with the other twin is much more complicated. James and Zack are similar in many ways and that tends to be the problem. Both hot-headed and stubborn, they tend to clash and bicker the most. Deep down, James knows he would do anything for his brother but that doesn’t take away from the fact his youngest brother can be a right pain in his ass at some points.

Now James is an overprotective bastard, this can be seen by anyone. But his overbearing ass is definitely the strongest when it comes to his little sister Elliot. He promptly chooses to ignore the fact she could kick everyone’s ass and plays the part of ‘protective big brother’ as a badge of honour. She learnt quite quickly to just let him play his part, and though it can be irritating at some points, it means he cares so Elliot doesn’t mind too much. James just sees all his younger siblings as his responsibility to keep as happy and protected as he can. He loves his siblings, he would do anything for them just as they would for him.

The second generation of pogues are a big bunch and whilst James is friendly with most of them (maybe going as far as considering them to be his siblings too) his best friend is most definitely Charlotte Routledge. Being the first kids in the group, it was hard for James to not be around Charlie most of his life. She was born a couple of months after he was and a lot of their childhood photos are proof that the two of them were rarely seen without each other. Charlie is like a sister to him, someone he would trust with his life. She probably knows him better than she knows herself, and vice versa. One would very rarely be seen without the other growing up, and they became quite the troublesome duo. However, Charlie is also one of the few people that isn’t afraid to put James in his place. He can be cocky and arrogant and she is happy to knock him down a few notches. She is the slap of reality in his life (something James quite often needs) and after so many years of friendship, she soon learnt to help him avoid trouble by scheming with him rather than trying to stop him. Charlie Routledge is one of the most important people in his life, just like her father was to his own.

Now, the last important relationship I should tell you about is with Clover Martelle. Depending on who you ask, the view of their relationship can be very different. For Clover, James is nothing but an arrogant asshole who always gets what he wants. To James, Clover is the best thing to ever walk this earth. It’s a long story for these two, a long history that goes back all the way to their first day of school together. You could jokingly say that James is his father’s son, falling for a stubborn girl who happily put him in his place and resisted the charming smile he gave everyone else. But that is just what James loves about her. She is beautiful, but James fell for so much more than that. She was strong and kind and stood up for what she believed in. Little James Maybank has been whipped since he was 5 years old. Their story and Clover’s eventual realisation that his feelings are requited is one that will eventually be explored.

Physically, James is healthy and fit. Except for the fact he had to be kept in hospital for an extra few days after he was born. But in every other aspect, he is generally quite normal and well. The only thing that he does need aid for is his eyesight. Since he was around 4 years old, James has always worn glasses. He wears glasses because he has a “lazy eye” (medically known as amblyopia) which just means one eye is weaker than the other. In James’s case, it is his left eye. Glasses were a bit of a menace for him as a child, he hated it and usually did his best to avoid wearing them. But by the age of 8, he had grown up a bit and accepted his glasses and he has never really had an issue with them since. Growing up with his parents being Potterheads, James distinguishably has worn round glasses like the main protagonist since he had first watched the movies. It helped a lot with his confidence to wear them.

Mentally, James’s health is also quite good. Like mentioned earlier, growing up in an open environment where you were aware that you could talk to your parents and not be judged really did help. He has always been open with his feelings and thoughts, always been given healthy solutions to deal with his issues. The fact that his parents respect his privacy and space and give James the time he needs to open up is also a big help. Like his father, he can sometimes get lost in his own head and use other things to distract him but he will eventually talk to someone about what is bothering him—whether that be his parents, his siblings or his friends. He knows he will always have someone there for him.

JJ and Kiara had no plans to settle down anytime soon. They were young and adventurous and had the whole world at their feet. It was no surprise to anyone that the second they graduated, they hopped on a plane and visited all the places they only dreamed of going. They would go back and forth between a new place and returning home for a few weeks to visit the other pogues, and have a few dinners with the Carreras to keep Anna happy. It just so happened that during one of their trips back to the island, there was a massive rager at the Boneyard for Halloween. Seeing no harm in this, the couple went and had the time of their lives. Little did they know that one little night would change their lives.

James wasn’t planned or necessarily expected at least for a couple of years. Unlike John B and Sarah who had a wedding pretty soon after they graduated, JJ and Kiara saw no rush in doing so. They had all the time in the world. However, a wrench was thrown into their plans when that positive pregnancy test showed up in their lives. Despite the fear and uncertainty the couple shared on the path of parenthood, they decided to keep the baby and venture forward with this unexpected path. It became one of the best decisions in their lives.

James was the sweetest young boy, a healthy mix of his parents both in attitude and in appearance. He was energetic and bubbly and charming. He loved people and loved making new friends. He was also the catalyst to the large family the young couple would have.

James knows of his parents’ background, where the two of them came from and how they got to the place they are now. In classic JJ fashion, of course his son follows through in the teasing and mocking of the other kooks. To keep Anna happy, they would attend the odd party here or there at the country club and James would do everything in his power to seem like the most charming man and simultaneously the kook parents worst nightmare. James is protective of his family, and knowing how they treated his father, he doesn’t plan on giving them the time of day to get under his skin.

Being the eldest, he also feels as though he holds a responsibility over his siblings to be a role model. Unfortunately, his big mouth can get him into a lot of trouble and usually it’s one of his siblings that will be helping him out of trouble. He’s a prankster, he can’t help it. He always has something up his sleeve, and this just so happens to be the exact thing that gets him on Clover’s bad list the first time they meet.

His relationship—or lack thereof—with Clover Martelle began when young James Maybank decided it would be hilarious to put gum on one of the chairs in the classroom. That chair just so happened to belong to Clover who did not find it very funny and in retaliation humiliated him in front of the class by doing the same back to him. It was the day James Maybank became absolutely whipped for her.

She was the person all the kook bastards thought they were entitled to tell him to stay away from. Even Clover herself made it pretty clear she didn’t want to be near James but that didn’t stop him. And eventually, years of pining and being like a love-sick puppy would finally blossom into a beautiful relationship between the two—but not without its hardships and bumps in the road (but you’ll just have to stay tuned to see how their story plays out!).

Being the oldest means that James is also the first to go through everything, including school. He knew pretty early on that he wanted to be a mechanic, his love for cars and motorcycles and boats proved this passion this further. In fact, by the age of 16, he had managed to build his own motorbike along with the help of his father and it’s his most prized possession and greatest accomplishment to this day.

James is a fairly laid back guy, he doesn’t like to plan too much into the future or dwindle on what is going to happen. He is definitely more of a “go with the flow” type of guy and that perfectly describes his outlook on life. Though his arrogance may be his fatal flaw, it also fuels the confidence that makes James who is and it’s a part of him you will grow to love.

[cognacdelights]

Teenage Dirtbags | 002. — A Right Hook A Day

Summary: In which, an out of control teenager is sentenced to a summer in the Outer Banks to come to come to terms with her mother’s untimely death, and reform her rebellious, troublesome ways before she does irreversible damage.

Authot’s Note: Sooo this is the second chapter of the “Teenage Dirtbags” series and it’s one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written. Marnie was my original child (before Indie - although Indie is lowkey my favourite), and there is so much of myself in her so I hope you love her as much as I do. As always, masterlists will be linked below and feel free to message me, pop an ask in my ask box or reply to this if you would like to be added to the taglist. 

Warnings: This series may contain mature themes/content throughout including but not limited to swearing, sexual language and/or scenes, substance abuse and mentions of death. 

Word Count: 3367.

Teenage Dirtbags Series Masterlist.

Fill The Void General Masterlist.

This gif is not mine, all credit goes to the owner. 

002. — A Right Hook A Day

There were several trivial pleasures in life that Marnie Sinclaire just couldn't resist; cherry pie, boys and a party. There was just something about the unmistakable, alluring aroma of cheap beer, teenage lust and bad decisions that really got her endorphins flowing. Parties were her safe space - her haven; they were the one place on Earth that Marnie could do just about whatever she wanted, whatever numbed the hollow, vacant ache that haunted her chest, and she never had to take even so much as a slither of the blame. She was devoid of all and absolute responsibility. If she was a tease, it was all down to the entrancing, provocative music they were playing. If she so happened to kiss somebody’s boyfriend, it was the infinite number of premium, export strength vodka shots that persuaded her to do it. If she found herself embroiled within a vicious cat-fight with the spiteful, pretentious girls from across the river - it was the obligatory capsules of molly, not her. It was never her. There was always some kind of justification that excused her reckless and wild behaviour, and that made her feel invincible for those sole, precious hours of anarchy.

So, when the audacious, unruly brunette found herself graciously clambering down the drain pipe of her grandparents' house, it was of no surprise to the girl. Despite her impassive, frigid reception of the boy with the devilish glint lurking within the amber speckles of his dark, mocha eyes, he had tempted her into joining them down at the boneyard. Although, admittedly, Marnie didn't need much convincing when it came to partaking in boozy social gatherings - and there was a minimal internal debate on whether she should test the waters with her grandparents so early in her sentence. Of course, in true Marnie Sinclaire fashion, she had opted to. After spinning them an improvised, fabricated exaggeration of how the eight and a half hour journey to the Outer Banks had utterly wiped her out, and proceeding to inform them of her plans to recuperate with an early night, she disappeared up the varnished, cedar wood staircase. Several outfit changes and a nonchalant application of peach-tinted lip gloss later, and she was descending from the perilous heights of her second story window.

By the time Marnie had reached the section of beach that had affectionately been nicknamed the boneyard, the ruthless, Mid-Atlantic sun had retreated behind the distant horizon. A captivating concoction of magenta hues and coral tinges had painted themselves across the Outer Banks skyline in a vibrant, bewitching haze, and the previously unbearable humidity had dissipated into a comfortably tepid draught. It had still been relatively light when she had committed her great escape - however she was unfamiliar with the intricate island pathways and had to rely merely on the tinny echoes of the teens' portable speaker to locate the unwinding get together. Marnie may have taken the scenic route, courtesy of her underdeveloped sense of direction, but she had eventually arrived.

All of half an hour had passed since the bright-eyed, fair-skinned beauty's arrival at the ocean-front gathering, yet she had found herself engulfed in a crowd of loafer-clad, polo-shirt-adorning country club boys. However, there was one mousy-haired, stiff-jawed boy in particular that Marnie had made a particular impression on; the playful, wicked glint that occupied her luminous, cerulean eyes had lured him in - but the acid-wash, denim shorts that desperately clung to the curvaceous contours of her slim-lined figure had ultimately seduced him. His large, gentle hand rested on the exposed skin of her upper thigh, as his soft, coaxing lips brushed ever so slightly against the delicate skin of her pierced earlobe, "you look incredible." A subtle waft of his Paco Rabanne aftershave filled her nostrils as his deep, raspy tone purred amorously into her ear. It was a scent which she knew oh too well, yet one that never really impressed her. It was more of a distasteful, indiscreet display of wealth rather than for the sake of actual hygiene purposes.  

"Just incredible?" Marnie challenged with a low, flirtatious hum - mimicking his ardent tone. Her sprightly, indigo eyes nonchalantly fluttered closed the second his masterful, delicate lips connected with the nape of her neck. The fair-haired boy began to litter sloppy, yet lustfully tender, kisses along her rose-tinted skin - mumbling a barrage of incoherent compliments in the process. His placid, velvet-like fingertips reached the sensitive plains of her inner thigh, leisurely encroaching on the lightly frayed hem of her sleek, denim shorts. The obviously well-off boy was very much aware that he was pushing his luck with the entrancing Brooklyn native, nevertheless he continued on with his pursuit into the uncharted territory - aiming to be the first in the race to place down his metaphorical flag and claim the terrain as his own in a bid for self validation.

"You are a fucking goddess," his fervid, lustful words vibrated against her freckled, alabaster complexion - his voice thick and gravelly - as her wandering mind fixated on the intense, rhythmic pulsing radiating from the nearby speaker. Marnie responded subconsciously by arching her back, as the heat of his whiskey-laced breath tantalised her most sensitive of nerves. "There's so many things that I want to do to you, princess" he proceeded to purr hankeringly, "so many positions that I want to take you in, so many places that I want to make you cum." She could feel the intrepid warmth of his dauntless fingertips intruding beneath the hemline of her shorts, a mere millimetres reach from the champagne, flower-patterned lace of her g-string.

"Slow down, Usain Bolt. This is a marathon, not a sprint," Marnie teased - her voice laced frivolously with her signature, provocative tenor. Her dainty lavender-painted fingertips coiled themselves around his wrist, guiding his meandering, clammy palms from beneath the frazzled hemline of her figure-hugging shorts. Casually, she turned her head to peer upwards at the upper-class boy, her beryl orbs occupying a sprightly glimmer as the corners of her glazed lips curled upwards into an innocent smile. "How about I get us some drinks?"

Removing herself from the confinements of his sordid, sun-burnt grasp, Marnie left the boy little time to object, beginning her leisurely stroll along the picturesque tidelands. The coarse silt particles beneath her off-white, worn-in Converse was uneven - and shifted unpredictably in every which direction under the light pressure of her footsteps. As someone accustomed to the static tarmac of Brooklyn's infamous streets, the doe-eyed brunette found the malleable surface difficult to navigate. It was yet another minute detail on an ever-growing list of contradictions to the world she was so fondly acquainted with, and desired to be reunited with.

Only a few, short minutes had passed before the troublesome vixen had - quite literally - stumbled upon the queue of drunken partygoers leading up to the beer keg, the ivory sand loosening beneath her cautious footsteps. The oddly alluring fragrance of cheap, low percentage beer forcefully invaded her airways, giving Marnie the unrivalled feeling of home; she relished in the one, trivial comfort she had managed to locate on the insufferable, out-of-touch island as she waited patiently for the line to diminish. There were several boys in the queue before her; all three of them drastically exceeding six foot, bare-chested and their tanned complexions adorning flattering splatters of salt water droplets that reflected celestially under the fire-lit lanterns.

As she eventually reached the front of the queue, Marnie was greeted by a much anticipated familiar face. The same golden-skinned boy who had delivered groceries to her grandparents' house stood before her - his large palm swaddling the beer tap, as his brawny, athletic figure guarded the half-empty keg. A haughty, complacent smirk etched itself into his defined features; after his earlier, sullen encounter with the pale-skinned virago, he was taken aback by her presence - but not disappointed. "Well, well, we-"

"Payment is required upfront," the brash, blonde-haired boy beside John B drowned out his mocking tone with his bold, cocksure words. A dauntless grin had proudly painted itself across his sun-kissed complexion, as his piercing, cobalt eyes glanced downwards at the petite, cinnamon-haired girl - appreciating all the fine, minute details of her being. Her skin, although pale, exhibited a naturally healthy and radiant glow, as the pinnacles of her prominent cheek bones displayed faint speckles of freckles. Her satin, blush-coloured lips were full and plump, and shaped perfectly by her pronounced cupid's bow. Marnie had an effortless kind of beauty to her - as even without her usual, heavy cosmetic aesthetic, she still attracted and secured the attention of the foreign, North Carolina boys.

"Payment?" she challenged the boy, arching her natural, dark eyebrows out of pure contest. His brazen demand for something in exchange for a mere half-filled cup of lukewarm, lingering on out of date beer was more than absurd to her. However, Marnie had to continually remind herself that these were North Carolina boys that she was dealing with; they were a whole different breed to the ones she had grown up with on the crime-ridden streets of Brooklyn. Perhaps, parties were simply not for the sake of sweet, teenage rebellion in these sandy plains, maybe they were an organised, profitable event and the boy with the wavy, mahogany locks had simply neglected to inform her of that fact. Her intense, perplexed gaze landed upon John B, who simply shrugged his broad shoulders in a casual display of confusion - neither confirming, nor denying, her theory.

"A kiss for a cup," the shaggy-haired blonde flirtatiously informed her, his sculpted, burly arms folding across his chest in his infamous, nonchalantly cavalier manner. The temptation to roll her sapphire eyes at his arrogant, pompous demeanour was more than abundant; the boy was not a budding, young entrepreneur offsetting his business enterprise early in life, he was merely an arrogant, over-confident teenage boy whose life direction revolved solely around the erratic, hormonal urges of his penis. "Sorry, babe, it's the island rules."

The over-whelming glint of mischief laced itself within the deep, sapphire flecks of Marnie's eyes, as she peered upwards through her thick, voluminous lashes, "just one kiss, hmm?" Her tone was playful, yet aloof, as she leisurely twirled the kinked ends of her cascading, chestnut wisps around the tip of her finger. An ever so slight, angelic pout graced her inviting, peach-toned lips as her head cocked innocently to the side, awaiting confirmation from the still nameless boy with the tousled, dirty blonde hair. He nodded his head assuredly - a slither of him astounded that his crass, amorous advances hadn't been met with pure, resentful outrage, as those he had previously accosted had reacted with.

Marnie took a small, confident step closer to John B. Her delicate, gentle palms placed either side of his elegantly sculpted cheeks, holding him in place, as the battered heels of her dirt-covered Converse rose up from the coarse particles beneath her. As the whimsical girl angled her makeup-less face upwards - her luscious, gloss-coated lips brushed against John B's. She was almost instantaneously met with the all too familiar taste of Keystone Light; the combined malt and bitter tang had temporarily stained his soft, welcoming lips. His large, paw-like hand held her at the nape of her neck - his touch light and placid - as he eased into the impassioned synchronisation. A low, lascivious grunt caught in the depths of his throat as her front, pearly teeth sank tauntingly into the swollen flesh of his bottom lip, lightly nibbling the delicate skin. She proceeded to drag her teasing, salacious tongue along the length of his lip, tenderly caressing the light indents. His gentle lips parted in submission, allowing her tormenting tongue to entangle itself with his own in an abruptly ardent embrace.

"Who's rolling out the welcome wagon now?" John B's low, husky voice chuckled as his lips retreated cautiously from Marnie's. Releasing the petite, bodacious brunette from his gentle hold, a smug, haughty smirk upturned the corners of his beer-laced, gloss-stained lips. His dark, untamed eyebrows raised in an arrogantly, quizzical manner as he waited patiently upon a response from the loud-mouthed, quick-witted girl before him.

"Still you, John B," Marnie quipped back instantly - complacent smirk etching itself into the doll-like features of her freckled complexion, "you've thrown me a welcome party and everything. You've really outdone yourself as well, although I would reconsider on who you hire for service - it seems as though he likes to take advantage of the guest of honour."

"You're trouble, you, aren't you?" the dark-haired boy anticipated with an amused chortle, pulling a singular red cup from the crumpled, plastic packaging laying atop the ivory sand. As if it came as second nature to him, John B applied the slightest touch of pressure to the keg tap, filling the cliché party cup with the golden, bitter beverage. The stream of beer flowed at a steady pace, hitting the side of the cup at an approximately forty five degree angle - to leave as little head as possible on the bordering stale lager.

"I resent the word trouble." Marnie took the disposable cup from the olive-skinned boy, his robust, athletic figure towering above her petite frame. Taking a generous sip of the cheap, college-grade beer, her doe-like, cerulean eyes peered atop the plastic rim. "You've got a little lip gloss on your mouth," she stated, the minor echoes of a giggle evident in the inflections of her lighthearted tone. Casually, she reached her dainty hand upwards, gently wiping away the remnants of her bubblegum-tinted gloss with a tender slide of her thumb.

"What, it didn't suit me?" John B countered banteringly - his bushy, untamed eyebrows raising upwards in an impudently brazen manner. His admirably chiselled arms crossed over his almost-bare, toned chest, shielding his loosely buttoned, pattern-printed shirt from flapping in the mild breeze. As the early-summer night had progressed, the once unbearable temperature had began to decrease significantly, and the occasional gust of wind had picked up into a steady, comfortable flurry.

"Nah, wasn't your colour," she divulged teasingly, taking another lavish gulp of her somewhat refreshing, alcoholic beverage, "it didn't complement your eyes and it definitely clashed with that hideous shirt you're wearing." Perhaps her caustically facetious words were a sliver too brazen for just their second interaction, although the thoroughly entertained grin which danced across his sun-soaked features indicated that John B hadn't taken her playful words to heart.

"Come on now, trouble, I can pull off any col-"

"What do you think you're doing macking on my girl, Routledge?" the roaring, irate voice of notorious posh boy, Rafe Cameron, crudely interrupted the boy mid sentence; it had become somewhat of a recurring theme throughout the evening. The older, less-athletically built boy proceeded to wade his way through the gathering of parched party-goers - his accompanying posse of fellow mindless, well-off minions following in close proximity behind. His work-shy hands were balled into tight, heavy fists, clenched in anticipation of the brawl that he inevitably expected to result from their heated exchange.

"Your girl?" the blonde-haired boy, adorning the discoloured muscle tee, antagonised the situation - his derisive words and coarse, mocking tone only provoking the enraged Cameron boy further, "didn't look like she was your girl when she was all up on my boy, John B just now."

"Was he talking to you, trailer trash?" one of Rafe's carbon-copy puppets hollered from the safety of several feet away. The shorter, feistier blonde stepped forward, his jaw clenched and his already-bruised fists clamped in preparation of the imminent altercation. Aware of his friend's lengthy, complicated history with the law, John B outstretched the palm of his large hand - serving as a makeshift barrier between the two cockfighting blondes, and silently urging his already probation-sentenced friend to fall back. This seemed to appease the short-statured boy for now as he retreated back a few reluctant steps, loosening his jaw.

"So what if I was macking on your girl, what are you going to do about it?" John B confronted the furious Figure Eight toff, taunting him further with his jesting, sarcasm-laced tone as he advanced forward, "are you going to throw daddy's money at me, like you do with all your other problems?" The umber-eyed boy with the dark, wayward waves had struck a nerve with Rafe Cameron; the snide, sneering words hurled towards him had rattled the trust-funded socialite - his scrawny, lacklustre body brimming with unprecedented rage. Acting on pure, neanderthal instinct, he swung his clenched fist towards John B, his garish, white knuckles grazing against the tanned highs of his cheek bone. John B stumbled backwards as the force of Rafe's tensed, curled-up fist connected with his face.

"Woah, back off, Donald Trump Jr," Marnie brazenly injected herself into the brawl; she shoved Rafe with as much strength and capability that her dainty, diminutive figure could muster, aiming to put as much distance between the two scuffling boys as possible. Her venomous tongue spat it's infamous poison in disapproval of the affluent blonde and his barbaric actions - utter disgust conspicuous within her harsh, reprimanding voice. She stared upwards at him, her unsympathetic, indigo eyes burning into his roseate features as she awaited his next move with hitched and bated breath.

"Stay out of this, bitch," Rafe hissed at the capricious brunette, lacking any fragments of hesitation as he returned the shove - only harder. The disposable, plastic cup that Marnie had remained in possession of crumpled under the sheer force of the repugnant Cameron boy's vigor, carelessly spilling it's alcoholic contents over her cropped, cream top. Although it was uncomfortable and tacky against her fair skin, her beer-doused garments were not the primary source of her superlative fury; Marnie Sinclaire absolutely despised, detested and resented the word bitch - especially when used as a derogatory slander to defame a woman. In Marnie's eyes, it was the most degrading slur of them all, and nothing boiled her blood quite like it.

In retaliation to his vulgar turn of phrase, the infuriated Brooklyn-born vixen found herself unconsciously launching her contracted fist at Rafe - knocking him backwards as her dainty knuckles connected with his crooked, concave nose, "who's the bitch now, bitch?" Her sour, sardonic words rang through his ears like the blaring chimes of the island's church bell, as his flaring temper toppled over at the brim. Raising his clenched fist once again, he directed his rage-filled, balled-up hand towards Marnie.

"I don't think so, man," the shorter, blonde-haired boy who had previously accosted the dark-haired girl, grabbed onto the ironed collar of Rafe's Ralph Lauren polo shirt before he could lay a hand on her. He negligently yanked the obnoxiously hostile Cameron boy from Marnie's vicinity, proceeding to thrust his gaunt, bony carcass towards the two witless clones that swarmed around the abhorrent boy. A bitter, hateful glare contorted his fair features as he remained on guard, willing and ready to pounce on the occasion that round two would commence with the feisty, short-statured boy adorning the beer-stained muscle tee.

"This isn't over, Routledge, Maybank," Rafe Cameron spat viciously, addressing the two South side boys directly - before wiping the meandering trail of blood leaking from his quickly bruising nose. Accepting his defeat for the moment, the embarrassed boy retreated back to the safety of the Figure Eight neighbourhood to tend to both his physical and metaphorical wounds, his agitated grumbles growing quieter as he disappeared into the unkempt foliage.

"Can someone get me some ice?" the lager-soaked brunette requested, a tinge of concern unmistakable in her distressed voice. Her luminous, cobalt orbs glanced towards the quick-tempered blonde and the anxious, dark-skinned boy who had appeared beside him now that the looming threat of violence had subdued - hoping one or the other would make an offer.

"I'll be fine," John B dismissed her with a simple, lackadaisical wave of his hand, "Rafe can't throw punches for shit."

"No, you moron, not for your face, for my hand. That fucking hurt."

Taglist: @drewsephsmiles​ @spilledtee​ @bellaguarneri​ @outrbanks​ @ilovejjmaybank​ @milamaybank​ @jjtheangel​ @shawnssongs​ @jayjaymaebank​ @jjouterbanks​ @ptersparkers​ @jjcultmain​ @summerintheobx​ @captainpogue​ @rudyypankow​ @rudypankow-whore​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @anonymous0writer​ @danandphilfan6​ 

[zoawrites]

@painted-in-ink said: Oooh am I late? Super long time ago there were leather jacket photos of Reylo going around, I’d still like some sort of biker gang au

-

Okay, I had a lot of fun with this! Thanks so much for the prompt! Hope you like!

You can find it here on AO3 or below the cut!

Rated Teen

The bar was smelly and dark, as usual. Filled with a thick layer of smoke from the medley of cigarettes and cigars in the mouths of its unsavory patrons. Rey resisted the urge to cough; she hated the smell, the acrid, foul taste that inevitably made it into her own mouth and nostrils.

But it was the only place she could go to have fun, to live her own life with the group of girls from her grandfather’s gang who were the closest thing she had to friends.

They were the Empire. The region's most feared, most notorious biker gang and she was virtual royalty. The princess. She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts and called the bartender for her usual: a whiskey sour which in this bar was more whiskey than sour, but Rey didn’t care.

Aayla, the girl she was with that particular night was already flirting with one of the Empire brutes. Thankfully the other men kept their distance from Rey; it wouldn’t do to start anything with the boss’ granddaughter. Unless you wanted your throat cut. She couldn’t deny she was glad of her privilege in that way, even if it originated from a despicable source.

So she sat alone at the bar and nursed her whiskey while her friend flirted with the Empire’s villainous citizens. Twenty minutes passed before Rey finally got the excitement she’d been waiting for.

When the group of leather-clad, tattooed men entered the bar a stereotypical movie silence fell over the room. Conversations stopped and the music cranked off.

“Oh my fucking… Rey. It’s that Kylo Ren dude.” Aayla gripped Rey’s arm tightly. “What’re they doing in our territory?”

Rey shot a disdainful glance at the group now making its way to the bar and her jaw clenched. There he was - the inimitable, impenetrable, bloody Kylo Ren. The worst of the Knights of Ren. Their general, second only to Snoke himself. He had the scars to prove it. The others with him were his brothers in arms, a mockery of the term ‘knight’.

“Asking for trouble, that’s what.” Rey downed the rest of her drink and jumped off her stool. “Hey, asshole! Did you come here for your execution?”

Immediately Empire bikers surrounded Rey, ready to pounce on the Knights if they even said the wrong thing. Kylo Ren eyed her and stalked slowly up until he was about three feet away. The Empire guys made to remove him but Rey put a hand up to stop them and lifted her chin in defiance.

“What are you doing outside grandpa’s castle, princess?” Kylo sneered, paying no mind at all to the dozens of men who would shoot him on the spot. “Wanted to see how the rest of us slum it?”

Rey glared at him. “You should leave. Unless you want someone to put another scar down that pretty face.”

“You think I’m pretty?” he said with the most disgusting smirk. “I’m flattered.”

“Get out before I cut you myself.” Rey snapped. A low chuckle emanated from his broad chest.

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think you have the guts.”

A deafening silence followed. Rey smiled sweetly and pulled a long, serrated dagger from the holster on her side, hidden beneath her tight leather jacket. She twirled it deftly in her hand before suddenly bridging the distance between them and bringing the edge of the blade to his throat. If he even swallowed it would cut him.

“Wanna find out?”

Kylo’s eyes flashed and she saw his full mouth lift slightly but twitch was gone as quick as it appeared. The rest of the room drew their weapons but the two at the center didn’t budge. They only stared into each other’s eyes, watching, evaluating. Rey didn’t know for how long.

Then Kylo took a step back. “Maybe some other time, princess.” He waved a hand and out he and his Knights went.

Rey exhaled the breath she’d been holding and returned the knife to its holster. The room relaxed and resumed its business, the music and conversation and villainy blaring to life again. Aayla stared at Rey with a giant grin.

“Girl!” She squealed. “You’re badass. Holy shit. Come on, let’s do some shots. You deserve it after that! Shots for everyone!” Aayla called and the room answered with a resounding shout.

Rey smiled but her eyes kept drifting to the door and her thoughts to the Knight she’d bested.

****

Rey took a deep breath when she stepped outside, taking the clear, smoke-free air deep into her lungs. She’d told Aayla she needed some fresh air, which wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t completely the truth either. The night was mild, moonless but free of clouds so she could see most of the stars. She meandered around the back of the bar, head down and lost in thought.

From out of nowhere thick arms wrapped themselves around her waist and tugged her into a narrow space between the bar and a small storage shed.

“Took you long enough,” a deep voice whispered in her ear. Rey immediately relaxed against the broad chest to which she was held.

“Aayla wanted to do shots.” Rey tilted her head to the side as plush lips smoothed over her neck. “Ben…”

“Missed you.” Ben - ‘Kylo’ was forgotten in the darkness; he always lowered his shields with her - tightened his arms around her. “It’s been too long.”

She sighed. “I know. But my grandfather…”

“Is a wrinkled old prick.”

Rey huffed and turned her head up with a disapproving look she didn’t really feel only to be met by his lips on hers. She sighed and melted into him, lifting a hand and curling her fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head to keep him close. They’d been meeting in secret for months, pretending to hate each other in public to cover the fact that the veritable princess of the Empire and Snoke’s favorite Knight were in love. Their situation was impossible; it couldn’t last, couldn’t ever exist outside of the secret meetings and furtive rendezvous, but she’d do it all again in a heartbeat. For even one second with him.

His tongue swept inside of her mouth and she released a soft whimper.

“Ben.”

His arms loosened enough to allow her to turn and he pressed her back against the wall of the bar, stepping up to her and enveloping her completely in his presence, warm and safe. Rey slid her hands over his leather jacket, slowing over the patches and running her fingers along the edges. Badges of his time with the Knights, symbols of the accomplishments - if they could be called that - proving his loyalty. Some were… bad. She didn’t care. He was bad, but so was she. Neither of them were angels but she loved him and he loved her, despite it all.

“Have you thought about what I asked you?” he asked quietly. “The last time?”

Rey nodded but didn’t look at him. “About leaving the Empire.”

“Yeah.”

She could tell he was tense, waiting for her response with stiff shoulders.

“It would start a war,” she whispered, finally lifting her eyes to his. “If I left. He would come at the Knights with everything he has.”

“I don’t care.” He cradled her face in his hands. “We’ll run away. Run away from all of them.”

Rey’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“I’m tired of this.” His eyes roved her face. “I’m tired of seeing you and not being able to touch you. Pretending to hate you. I’m tired of all the fighting. I want to stop. Please, come with me.”

There was no way this could work. Her grandfather would send his people after them. Find them somehow no matter where they went.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. She was troublesome; always arguing with her grandfather and angering him until he threw her out. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t try so hard to find them. Maybe they could do it if they ran far enough away to make finding them too troublesome to be worth it.

As she looked into Ben’s eyes - dark and glittering, reflecting the orange light from the bulb hanging over the back door of the bar - she knew what she had to do.

“Okay.” She nodded, breathless. “Yes. I want out. I want to be with you.”

His face lit up with the most dazzling smile and he kissed her. “Let’s go now.” He murmured though he hadn’t yet broken away from her lips.

Rey nodded, too happy, too excited to say anything. A second later she was being tugged back around the bar and to the line of bikes that stood out front. Ben jumped onto his and she clambered onto the seat behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.

The motorcycle roared to life and with a squeal that surely everyone inside heard, they were gone. Down the road and away from the bar, away from their enemies and their old, wretched lives. Rushing down the road toward she didn’t know what but Rey didn’t care. She was finally with him. Truly with him. No hiding, no secrets. Just them and the open road.

[chuffyfan87]

Growing Pains. Part 3c

"You're just trying to butter me up..!" She giggled, feeling his hands roaming and something else pressing against the underside of her thigh as she sat across his lap.

“I’m not. I’m trying to make you feel better. More sexy and confident. Don’t forget Mrs F, you’re wank bank material. You sexy milf!”

"Charlie!" She blushed.

“What?”

"Stop finding that so funny!" She whined, pouting at him.

“Does it not even make you a tiny bit wet?” He whispered.

"I prefer men not boys." She smirked.

“A certain man with a certain cock.” He whispered and kissed her earlobe.

"So long as he doesn't keel over on me again. Which he will do if he keeps up with these!" She remarked, gesturing with the cigarette that was still in her hand.

“I only have one. Or two. Just when I’m sad and need to think about things.” His hand moved up her and groped her breast, “I could just fuck you right now.”

"So I did make you sad?" She sighed.

“No I...” He paused, “I didn’t know what to do or how to broach the elephant in the room without you taking my head off.”

"I just hate that it's always there looming over us like a shadow - that it's the first thing your mind jumps to."

“Your weight?”

"That you think I'm gunna relapse."

“I worry that you will relapse and I won’t notice.”

"I can't seem to hide anything from you for long."

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”

"Its probably a good thing. It's those blue eyes of yours, they do funny things to me!"

“Just like your green eyes do funny things to me.”

"You don't seem to be looking at my eyes most of the time." She teased.

“No it’s your breasts and arse.” He admitted.

She giggled before giving him a kiss. Pulling back she wrinkled her nose. "You taste like an ashtray!"

“Sorry Mrs F.” He cupped her breast again, “Do you fancy going upstairs and... reacquainting ourselves with one another?”

"We're supposed to be watching a film with the girls..." She reminded him, a naughty twinkle in her eyes.

“We’ll watch the final film with them.” He smirked.

"You never know what might be in store for you later." She smiled as she stood up from his lap and handed the cigarette back to him.

“I look forward to finding out.”

11pm

Peter had gone out into town with a few of his friends from work.

"Fancy a round of shots?" His colleague Damian asked.

“Yeah why not?”

Damian ordered the drinks and placed two in front of Peter. "Get those down your neck and go talk to that blonde who's been giving you the eye for the past hour!" He encouraged.

“What blonde?” Peter asked before he knocked back the two shots with Damian.

"Her over there." Damian attempted to point her out subtlely.

Peter followed Damian and nodded. “Alright, I will.” He took a few seconds but he found himself heading over to the girl.

She gave him a dazzling smile as he approached. "Hi."

“I’m Peter.” He smiled, “You look gorgeous:”

"Thanks. I'm Holly."

“Can I buy you a drink?”

"Sure. Vodka and coke please."

He smiled and went to the bar. He ordered two vodka and cokes and a short while later, returned to Holly. “You here alone?”

"With a couple of mates. You?"

“Yeah, same. You from around here? Holby I mean.”

"Yeh, grew up round here. Came back a few months ago after uni. Are you from Holby?"

“Lived here all my life.” He smiled, “What did you study?”

"I just qualified as a vet."

“Oh woah. A vet? Congratulations.”

"Thanks. What do you do?"

Peter sipped his drink, “I studied chemical engineering at Uni, I work in that sector.” He blushed.

"Cool." She leaned slightly closer to Peter. "This place is really rubbish, do you know any better bars or clubs?"

“Yeah. I know a better bar we can go to if you fancy it?”

"Sure. Lead the way!" She giggled.

He finished his drink and held his hand out for her.

She took hold of his hand. "Aren't you going to tell your mate that you're leaving?" She giggled as she allowed him to lead her outside.

“Nah. He knows. He was the one who encouraged me to come and talk to you.” As they left the club and got further into town, Holly began to shiver. So Peter took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Thanks." She smiled.

“It’s alright.” He took her to a bar just by the river on the outskirts of town. “Another vodka and coke or something else?”

"Another vodka and coke thanks."

He didn’t let go of her hand as they waited to be served. His thumb stroking the back of her hand.

"I've not been here before, it's nice." She remarked.

“It’s my first time here too.” He admitted.

"But you said..?" She giggled.

“That I knew a better bar?” He laughed gently, “I remember my mates telling me it was a good place. Kinda figured it would be a good idea to try it out.”

"Ah, thought you'd chance it?" She smiled.

“Yeah.” He smiled.

Eventually they managed to get served and found a spot by one of the windows overlooking the river.

He found himself gazing at her. Damn, she was gorgeous!

"Like what you see?"

“Yeah, you’re really pretty.”

"I thought seeing as how it's new year's I'd best make an effort."

“You look good! Great in fact. That dress suits you.”

"It wasn't just the dress I made an effort with." She winked.

Peter nearly choked on his drink. “Do I get to see what’s under your dress at some point?”

"Depends..."

“Depends on?”

"Well, it takes more than buying me a few drinks."

“I’d like to take you out for dinner one night.”

"I'd like that." She smiled, moving closer to him.

He met her eye and then looked at her lips. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, a little nervous. For the first time in a long while, he really liked someone who wasn’t Sarah.

"I was hoping that you would ever since you first came over." She smiled.

He smiled and lent forward, his lips brushing against hers.

She slipped her hand around his neck as she kissed him back.

He deepened the kiss, his hands on her waist.

Holly moved her other hand to grope Peter's arse.

He slid his tongue into her mouth.

Her tongue dueled with his. She was pleased to discover that he was a great kisser in addition to being really fit.

Eventually pulling away to catch their breaths, Peter let out a small giggle.

The general hubub in the bar was getting louder - it was almost midnight.

They began to count down for new year.

12am

"Happy New Year!!" Tilly and Lottie yelled as they watched the fireworks display on the TV.

“Happy new year, you troublesome three.” Charlie smiled brightly at his three daughters. “Happy New Year, baby.” He kissed Duffy tenderly.

"Happy New Year." Duffy smiled, snuggling up closer to him under the blanket that lay over them.

“Here’s to another year with you and our children, driving me crazy.”

"Cheeky! You're the one that drives me crazy!" She giggled.

“I don’t.” His hand slowly ran up her inner thigh under the blanket.

She shifted her leg slightly, flashing him a mischievous grin.

His fingers began to stroke her jeans.

Duffy tried to keep her attention on the firework display but Charlie's wandering hand was proving very distracting and she found herself melting under his touch.

Charlie’s hand slipped into her jeans though he was mindful of their teen daughters being in the room.

Emily was busily making some notes in a sketchpad she'd brought down from her room just before the display started.

Charlie whispered in Duffy’s ear. “Fancy sneaking off?”

"You are a bad man!" She giggled softly, moving to get up from the sofa as quietly as possible.

As she stood up, Charlie slapped her arse hard.

All three girls groaned, “Urgh! You and mum are so gross!” Tilly replied.

Duffy blushed scarlet as she turned and playfully pushed Charlie through the door into the hall.

Charlie chuckled and pulled Duffy in the direction of the stairs.

The sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs pulled Jake's attention away from Krystal. Turning he recognised one of the lads from his year. The teenager looked panicked.

"Jake, dude, your brother's puking in the garden!" He gasped.

“What?” Jake stood up hurriedly, he looked panicked. “Shit!”

"He was just chilling and then suddenly his eyes went all funny. He slumped over and puked."

Jake apologised to Krystal and ran down the stairs and into the garden. “Louis?”

Krystal followed Jake into the garden just as Louis appeared to be improving somewhat.

“What’ve you taken!” Jake demanded to know.

Louis blinked at his brother several times, a dopey smile on his face. "Hey bro." He slurred.

"He's fine, just take him home." One of the other boys shrugged.

“Come on! Get up! I’m taking you home.”

Louis giggled as he tried to get up, tripping on his own feet.

With great difficulty, Jake managed to get Louis home. “Our parents are going to kill us!”

Louis just giggled. He didn't understand why Jake was stressing so much, everything was just fine.

Jake tried to quietly get Louis inside the house, he didn’t want to alert their parents. “You’re stoned, aren’t you? Fucks sake, bro!”

Emily walked out of the kitchen as her brothers arrived home. The twins were aleady upstairs and she was just getting a drink before going to bed. Her eyebrow rose instantly at the sight in front of her. "What the..?"

“Where’s mum and dad? Are they in bed?” Jake asked, a hint of worry in his voice. “Help me get him into bed, Em. Please.”

"Yeh, they're otherwise occupied." She smirked. "What happened?" She moved to help Jake.

[quintessence-sentimentalist]

quintessence-sentimentalist Takes on 30 Days of W.i.t.c.h.versary!: Week Four

Well, I’m a bit late and also exhausted, so not as much to say this time around. Still, Days 22-29!

Day 22 A wonderful pet

Oh, Dormouse/Mr. Huggles, for sure. Comics Dormouse was as iconic a symbol of Will as frogs or, hell, even the Heart. He was as adorable as he was troublesome, and he was just so precious with Will. His death still packs such a wallop that it’s outright unfair.

Mr. Huggles of the cartoon has a slightly better time of it, with the exception of literally being turned into a monster. I generally prefer comics Dormouse’s brown coat (and lack of name, I’ll admit) to Mr. Huggles’s white-gray, but I do think the color change works a bit better for animation. And while it’s a little... odd that they largely did away with Will’s close bond with him, at least they still kept him in his little family by having Matt take him in for good. Their relationship - a boy and his not-a-rat-he’s-a-dormouse - is reminiscent of another one from a certain other Disney teen hero cartoon around the same time, so that’s enjoyable to me. (And now I’m headcanoning Matt and Mr. Huggles meeting Ron and Rufus in a team-up of sidekicks to badass redheaded ladies and I really need this now.)

Day 23 A magical item

Is it too cliché to say the Heart of Kandrakar?

Really though, I absolutely love the design and concept of the Heart. Do its actual powers vary frustratingly from time to time and randomly do incredibly powerful things without any prior hint that it can? Sure. But the fact that such a pretty crystal packs that much of a punch is pretty darn cool.

Day 24 A group shot

I’m sure I could think of multiple from the comics, but hey, I’m just going to go with my header image, because I feel like I’m one of the only sources out there for it (somehow??) and honestly I love it too much because I feel like it should have been the season 3 promo art, with the way it has the girls looking super badass and surrounded by their allies.

Day 25 A minor character

For some reason I keep thinking of Principal Knickerbocker?? Her comic design is just really sticking out in my head for some reason.

But okay, I’m going to cheat on this one and go with pretty much the whole non-family/non-significant other supporting cast in Heatherfield (with the exception of Uriah and the gang). I just think they made a very... eclectic cast of background characters in the girls’ civilian lives that make for some fun and interesting moments outside of saving the world. There’s a running gag with how Mr. Horseberg and Coach O’Neill can’t stand each other (and literally come to blows over it), poor Bertold the custodian is Knickerbocker’s confidante/sidekick in running the show at Sheffield, and yes, I’m going to include Medina, McTiennan, and Sylla in this group because I enjoyed the concept of getting actual law enforcement involved in a magical girl series. 

Day 26 A fantasy people/race/species

I think I’m going to go with the Banshees, partially for the reasons I discussed already in regards to Yua (beings that are supposedly super evil but frankly just want to be left alone in their bog home). I also find their design fascinating, as they all pretty much look the same and have the silhouettes of a beautiful woman, but get on their bad side and they’ll show you exactly how otherworldly and terrifying they can be. 

Runner-up goes to the Basiliadians, because they’re so markedly diverse and I’d be fascinated by that worldbuilding.

Day 27 A personal headcanon

Oof, okay, let me think of something that I haven’t already blathered on about... 

Hmm, well it’s not so much a headcanon as, like... a vindictive moment of satisfaction I’d love to see (and will maybe one day fic), but sometimes I like to entertain the concept of Will running into her old friends from Fadden Hills - who rejected her in the Year Before special - and just seeing them react to how much better her life is, having these friends who legitimately care about and love her and how she’s grown into this confident leader. I’ve been in pre-series Will’s place before, so this would be a cathartic thing for me, as well as a means to revisit prior canon.

Day 28 A personal memory

Oh dear, there are several of these that come to mind, some of which I’ve definitely mentioned before. But I guess I’ll choose one for the comics and one for the cartoon that I haven’t discussed previously.

I honestly just distinctly remember the wait for new issues - whether of the Philippines comics or the UK magazines - after my dad would order them on Ebay, since the US had largely stopped releasing any books or graphic novels by that point. I just remember being 13 and zoning out in history class because the package was supposed to come that afternoon (it oftentimes took a few more days) and I was so ready to binge-read when I got home. 

As for the animated series, we didn’t get cable until near the very end of season 2, and the series had stopped running on network TV in early season 1, so I had to watch the majority of the series via YouTube. Mind you, YouTube had only been around for a year at this point and I think we had just switched over from dial-up, so most of my viewing happened at the kitchen table on my mom’s brick of a work laptop, having to rewind the low-quality recording every few seconds because it was buffering again, and then having to track down parts 2 and 3 of the episode because there wasn’t a capacity for more than 6-8 minutes of footage per upload. It was tedious, but the memories are somewhat fond. 

And then some six years down the line, when I was a senior in high school, I would pop the DVDs I had into my computer and rewatch the series in the middle of the night after I finished studying, conveniently forgetting that I needed to be up for school about five hours later. I guess I just have memories of watching the series on a smaller screen.

Day 29 A word of thanks to any official W.i.t.c.h. artist(s)/writer(s)

I mean, you can’t have a W.i.t.c.h.versary without toasting to the minds behind our beloved girls: Elisabetta Gnone, Barbara Canepa, and Alessandro Barbucci. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for giving us these wonderful, truly magical heroines who have shaped my life in more ways than I can list. I’m a good 15 years into my adoration of this series, and I don’t see that train losing steam anytime soon.

Also, a nod to Greg Weisman and crew for season 2 of the animated series, which took the narrative in some intriguing directions that I still enjoy to this day.

[autumn-writes-slasherfics]

Jason vorhees x male reader

Sup so this is my first horror x reader and I thought I'd start this with a warning the x reader in this will have an eating disorder so if this triggers you please don't read this the last thing I want is for my followers to be upset... Anyways on with the story

A SMALL DINNER (a jason voorhees x male reader one-shot)

You were sitting in the distant cabbin at camp crystal lake sitting on the sofa when you heard a knock on the door. Already knowing who it was you opened the door and leaped on to the tall man in the doorway. Jason looked down at you and patted you on the head like petting a puppy. After a few seconds of hugging Jason you let him go and let him in when jason walked in he set down his signature weapon of choice and took off his mask. He was comfortable taking off his mask around you since he trusted you with his life after setting down his mask he sat down on the sofa and gestured for you to sit with him. You did as was told sitting on Jason's lap and nuzzling into his chest you then turned on the TV.

---------------time skip 2 hours-----------------

After a while of watching TV Jason noticed a plate of food on the table thinking it was yours he handed it to you. When you took the plate you put it back on the table and said to Jason with a warm smile "thank you Jason but I'm not hungry" you then kissed his cheek. Jason knew what was happening and picked up the plate and handed it to you again you looked at him took the plate and set it down again telling him that you weren't hungry with a bit more force this time. Jason wasn't having it and with a sigh signed " (y/n) have you eaten anything today?" your firm expression weakened and you looked down. He took that as a response of that you haven't eaten anything at all today so picking up the plate one more time he handed it to you begging for you to take it. He was worried you haven't been eating much these past few weeks and he didn't know what to do. Tears were starting to fall from your eyes and you said in between shaky breaths "Jason... please... don't make me eat it" you were now full on sobbing so Jason quickly put down the plate and wrapped you up in a firm comforting hug. You started to calm down and he started signing " (y/n) what's going on you haven't eating well and I'm beginning to worry" you sat there and whispered "it's fine.. it's nothing... don't worry". Jason was starting to become frustrated and looked you dead in the eyes and signed " (y/n) I'm your boyfriend you can tell me what's wrong I'm here for you"... You finally caved you let down your protective walls which hid your feelings and started to tell him the problem. You had told him that you have an eating disorder and what that means / does. Jason just looked at you he looked hurt hurt that you had never told him about this big secret. You felt sorry for the gentle giant so you hugged him repeatedly apologising for what had happened. He hugged you back and you felt him shaking. You up at Jason to see him crying now you felt horrible so you hugged him and apologised once more before he slowly pushed you back and signed " next time this happens... tell me... please" you happily agreed and you went back to hugging him and that's how you spent the rest of the night. From then on you always told Jason when your disorder would rear its ugly head and he would comfort you all day even if he was annoyed that he couldn't go out and hunt some troublesome teens.

[lilcutieana]

Alive ~ (Robot Kim Seokjin)

Pairing:  Robot! Kim Seokjin| Reader Words: 2k Rating: M (mature), smut in future chapters. Warnings: Strong language, violence, mentions of death and lots of angst  Genre: Hybrid AU, Robot AU  Synapse: A world where hybrids are no longer seen as pets and have been replaced by robots instead. Where robots have feelings, emotions and adapt just the way you need them to. 

So… Which robot would you like to order?

Masterlist || One shots Masterlist ||Chapter 1

                                             Prologue 

After the hybrid human war in South Korea, both humans and hybrids faced tremendous losses. The hybrids now co-existed with humans and humans have reverted back to using robots for their needs instead of owning hybrids.

Hybrids are no longer the pets and slaves, but live proudly alongside humans, have children with them; and, being genetically advanced in every aspect-- they're preferred candidates for every human job. No longer are they experimented on, or created in labs—they’re born naturally now.

The robots are far more advanced now and humane. They come with memories, emotions, functions—all things customized according to the need of the owner. The more money and power you have—the more you are favored. These days not just everyone gets to own a robot of their own. Only the ones who deserve them the most—gets to own them. It’s extremely hard to customize robots after all. Not everyone can do it.

And that is the reason why crimes have significantly increased. No human can stay much longer without releasing their stress and inner hatred onto someone else—be it hybrid or human. Now that it’s taken away—they’ve resorted back to unleashing it on each other.

"Ma’am, our next applicant seems quite the troublesome one. I don't think we can discourage them."

"That's okay Suwon, hand me the form. I'll take it from here." Miyoung smiled at her secretary, looking up from the desktop screen.

Suwon pursed his lips. His grey ears atop his head twitching in annoyance. He didn't like it one bit when the rich and powerful people demanded robots and never cared for them enough. Humans were selfish. The rich-- even more so. They had too much money and time on their hands and destructed everything around them.

"Suwon." Minyoung placed her arms on her lap and turned towards him. "Don't judge every man who is not here for donations, but, to buy from us. Even rich people can have genuine reasons."

"If it’s a birthday present for someone whose choice they aren't even sure about, or a sex toy for their sexually deviant child, or worse-- a punching bag for their aggressive friend—I refuse." Suwon snapped. Turning his head, he glared at the wall, breathing hard. "They are humane, our robots are like a young child, with feelings and no memories. They need love, care, attention to understand the world and then gradually adapt to the owner and they do not, under any circumstances, deserve being treated like absolute shit just because they aren't made of flesh and bones."

"And that's exactly why Suwon, we run multiple tests before taking requests." She licked her lips, a silent command in her voice, "he must have waited long enough, send him in and leave his form with me."

"But, miss, he's ..." Suwon hesitated, the form clutched tight in his hands, his tail flicking behind him nervously.

"I don't pay you to make decisions for me, Suwon." She turned her attention back to her desktop screen, saving the documents she had been working on. A previous request for robot puppy—to help the owner recover from the loss of her puppy in an accident.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Right away." Suwon left the room with a soft click of the door, followed by Miyoung sighing in her seat. She was just an ordinary robot maker. And now, she ran one of the biggest companies in Asia, producing top-notch robots – who never disappointed. The reason? Their memories were replaceable and could be manipulated. That was the company secret.

Every two years, the robots had to be brought for routine checkup and recovery. A week-long process where they helped the robot heal any trauma or get additional improvements and software upgrades—for a charge, of course.

There were people who couldn’t afford to pay for the robot that they needed to live. And for that, she was the first, and the only company in the world—who accepted them to pay their debts through working. They were trained for a month and sent to houses for a survey of robots, customer satisfaction, suggestion, and other important data. And that was the second key—for the success to her company.

A curt knock on the door, startled her out her reverie, revealing a man in his late fifties—or was it sixties? She couldn’t tell. She was quite bad at the age guessing game. His eyes were a bit sunken in, dark freckles on the left side on his forehead and cheeks, dark skin and a beautiful relaxed smile. He didn’t raise any alarm bells in her yet, and she deemed him safe enough. For now.

“Please, take a seat.” Gesturing towards the couch, she got up from the chair and followed him there. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Ah… No. Thank you for asking, miss.” He smiled back politely and sat down, picking a blue cushion and positioning it over his thighs. “I need a robot for this woman.” Placing a Polaroid photograph of a young hybrid girl on the table between them, the man regarded Miyoung carefully.

“Do you know for sure that’s exactly what she wants?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what Y/N needs. A robot of her own who she can trust not to leave or to die.” He nodded solemnly. “I’ve known her for a little over five years and with time—her depression and anxiety got worse. But not that my son’s no more, who she had been dating for a few years, she’s losing herself. She’s dying on her own—wouldn’t accept any care, is being ridiculously stubborn too. I just don’t know any other way.”

“I see. A care bot then.” Miyoung nodded to herself, her eyes darkening. “I’ll need you to fill up a form and add all specifications before we can decide on further things.”

The man nodded and licked his lips. Clasping his hands over his thighs, he looked around the office, his gaze sharp and calculating. “Can the robot’s memories be manipulated?”

The question came out of nowhere and Miyoung, was absolutely not expecting this question out of all others to come from a harmless looking man.

“Yes, they can be. But not by the ones who own the robot.” She answered carefully, gauging his reactions to the new revelation. The public didn’t know much about robots—except their types and their functions.

He slumped in his seat, relaxed. “That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want someone else tampering with its memories. Even though a robot—I believe they’d have their own personality, feelings, and emotions.”

“That’s right. They do. They’re almost the same as a human, just more innocent.” Miyoung smiled back, relieved. Her doubts about the man melting away. He might be rich, but he had a better understanding. He wasn’t as bad as her secretary had made him out to be.

“There’s something… I’d like you to know beforehand.” He leaned forward with his hands clasped over his knees. “The reason behind my son’s death is still unclear. Though she needs all the care, I’m worried about the robot that would replace my son in her life. I need the robot to be strong enough to defend itself.”

Miyong’s heart sunk. She knew the request couldn’t have been as simple. Either he was threatening her, or maybe he didn’t need the robot to protect the girl—rather to spy on her. To maybe find out about his son’s death. She wondered what his real intentions were. Did he suspect the girl as a murderer?  

“I’ll look into it and prepare a bot according to the form you’ll be filling up. There will be people discharged to get a feel of your place and to survey different things. Don’t be too alarmed.” Miyoung nodded, a smile on her lips that were just as fake as her lashes.

What had she got herself into?

═══════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ 

“Y/N, a bright young woman of twenty-three, mourning over the death of her lover of age twenty-eight, lives in a house they both owned at the upper rich side of Seoul.” A lanky boy in his late teens, huffed along behind a tall, broad-shouldered and lean man dressed immaculately in a suit, carrying two suitcases while scaling the unending steps to said house.

“She refuses to eat, drink or even talk to anyone. She’s resigned to staying inside their shared bedroom and you—as handsome as you are—are expected to get her out of her slump. That’s your task.” Nodding to himself, he stopped and stared both ways, looking for the address he was supposed to drop off the handsome robot in. Delivery was always a pain in his ass.

“So you agree I’m handsome?” The robot turned around, his stoic expression turning into one of pure innocence and wonder.

“There’s nothing to agree upon, you know? That’s just the way you were designed.” The boy averted his eyes to the side, his neck flushing a faint pink. “Anyway, that’s all you heard from all the important stuff I’ve been raving about?”

The man shrugged his shoulders, a pensive look on his face. “I’ll figure it out somehow. How bad can a dog hybrid be?”

“You just cursed yourself to doom.”

“I’ll deal with it. So… when do we get to eat?” he asked excited, his eyes sparkling under the sun, and his blonde hair making his caramel skin look paler than it was.

“Whenever you decide to cook the countless recipes saved in your memory.” Looking around, the boy’s eyes fixated on a fairly large mansion to their right. Its yard looking more intimidating than welcoming. “Looks like we’ve made it here. This is as far as I go.”

“Yeah, thanks, man. I’ll carry these suitcases from here.” The robot picked up the heavy suitcases from the teen’s hands as if they were just textbooks. “Stop looking at me like I’m the Ironman. I’ll miss you. Its been fun the past week learning with you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I was only doing my job.” Patting his elbow, the boy turned around, his ears a bright pink as he continued walking away—kicking a stray pebble along.

Giggling to himself, the suited man straightened his jacket and bit his lip. Well, he hadn’t expected to come to stay at such a luxurious home. Well, he supposed he’d enjoy his stay while it lasted.

Dragging his suitcases behind him, he walked forward with a new purpose, the gates opening on their own as soon as they scanned him. The gravel path crunched under his boots—a gift from the one who had designed him, the foliage around was trimmed to perfection, even the water in the little fountain had been sparkling and shimmering. The house was indeed well looked after—at least from the outside.

Then why was the owner not looked after? Why did she need him?

Knocking on the ornate door with a simple floral design, he wasn’t one bit surprised when nobody opened it for him. Sighing, he slumped against the door, dropping the handles of the suitcases he’d been carrying.

“Y/N… I know you’re watching me, and probably listening to me too.” Licking his suddenly dry lips, he continued, “I’m Kim Seokjin, here to be your caregiver. Won’t you let me in?”

Though he was right, she was watching him and listening to him from the other side of the door, what he didn’t know was how broken she was and how much those very words affected her.

They meant a completely different thing to her. Those were the exact words he had spoken to her the first time they met. The words she never wanted to hear again. 

Prologue || Chapter 1

[comixconnection]

CHOOSE YOUR THREE FREE COMICS!

The following titles will be available at Comix Connection on May 4th (while supplies last!). Everybody gets to pick three! For every food donation* you bring in for the Central Pennsylvania Food Bank you may select an additional free comic book!

*food donations must be at least two months in date to allow for food bank processing time! expired or soon-to-expire items will not be accepted. please check your labels!

We know the line for the FCBD comics can get long (if you want to come in and shop first, you can skip the line and head straight inside!) so in an effort to both entertain you while you’re in that long line and to help it go a little faster by giving you a preview of the various titles so you can decide ahead of time what looks good, the Comix Connection Counter Monkeys have read and reviewed all of the available FCBD books! Take a peek!

CHOOSE YOUR FREE COMICS:

This preview of the Under the Moon: A Catwoman Tale graphic novel introduces us to a young, pre-Catwoman Selina Kyle and the difficult adolescence that led her to become everyone’s favorite feline fatale. Plus, get a sneak-peek at the upcoming Teen Titans: Raven graphic novel coming from DC Ink later this summer for $16.99. Want more? Pre-order Raven now or grab a copy of Under the Moon off the shelves today!

CONTENT NOTE: while this sample has been rated ALL AGES it does deal with some heavy subjects, including animal death, and the books themselves are intended for TEEN READERS.

Shiver your way into a galaxy far, far away in this spooky one-shot starring Han Solo and Chewbacca on a galactic treasure hunt during their pre-Rebellion scoundrel days! Want more? Discover the whole era-spanning adventure in the Tales from Vader’s Castle graphic novel, on the shelves now! [ALL AGES]

Marjorie is not excited to go visit her grandmother in the country for Mother’s Day, even though her best friend is coming along for the ride -- secretly of course, because Wendell is a ghost! This down-to-earth haunting pits Majorie against the pressures of growing-up and finding herself, but it’s Wendell who gets the star make-over in this issue! As in the graphic novel, this one-shot deals with the topics of grief and loss in a way that is both approachable and touching for all ages. Want more? Pick up the Sheets graphic novel where the two friends first met, on the shelves now! [ALL AGES]

This two-for-one issues gives you the first ever comic book venture for the beloved video game Minecraft, a teaser for the upcoming graphic novel. in the first story, a cheerful “Griefer” gets some grief of her own when real life consequences collide with her digital destruction. Plus, everyone’s favorite super-siblings decide to give mom and dad the gift of a “Date Night” that gives them more than they bargained for in a short story set after Incredibles 2. Want more? Pre-order the $9.99 Minecraft graphic novel now, or picks up the latest issue of Incredible: Secret Identities on the racks now! [ALL AGES]

A hilarious, lighthearted romp through the world of the Justice League as the world’s greatest heroes answer their fans’ most pressing questions -- such as Superman’s biggest mistakes and Hawkgirl’s dietary preferences. This two chapter preview of the upcoming graphic novel, Dear Justice League exposes the funny side of ordinary super life. Want more? Have us pre-order your copy of the $9.99 graphic novel out later this summer! [ALL AGES]

In this special preview of the upcoming graphic novel Ghost Hog, new ghost Truff the hog gets some lessons in how to haunt -- and the dangers when things go wrong! -- from her friends. Plus, catch a preview of Pilu of the Woods, a sweet graphic novel about family and woodlore as a lost little girl meets a lost little dryad and both have to fight their own dark sides to find their way home. Want more? Have us set aside the first Ghost Hog book for you at $12.99 when it comes in next week, or grab a copy of Pilu of the Woods off the shelves now! [ALL AGES]

It can be hard being a Villain Kid in Auradon and even harder when you’re coming from the Isle of the Lost. Dizzy Tremaine is worried about her first day of school so she seeks out some fortune telling from Celia Facilier, but can she trust what the cards tell her...or Celia? Sneak a peek at this preview of the upcoming Disney Descendants: Dizzy’s New Fortune graphic novel coming out later this month. Pre-order your copy now for $12.99 or grab a previous Descendants story off the shelf now! [ALL AGES]

Discover the beginning of Ash Katchum’s partnership with Pikachu in this preview of the Pokémon The Movie: I Choose You graphic novel -- and if you think it was all smooth sailing for these two famous pair, you’re in for a rough surprise...just like Pikachu! Then, follow Red as he captures his first Pokémon and begins his journey to being a great trainer in the preview of Pokémon Adventures Volume One. Want more? Order the full story of each volume today! [ALL AGES]

A long, long, long time ago -- 40,000 years in fact -- neanderthal siblings Lucy and Andy founded an Adventure Club with their human neighbors to explore their prehistoric world. When they go chasing a meteorite that fell from the sky, they might have found more than they bargained for! But don’t worry: every Lucy & Andy story comes with a back-up feature where modern scientists fill-in the details that Lucy and Andy haven’t figured out yet! Find out more in this one-shot adventure, and then check out their ongoing hi-jinks in the collection of Lucy & Andy Neanderthal graphic novels. Grab one off the shelf or order yourself a copy today! [ALL AGES]

The Lumberjanes are a sensation of adventurous scouts who best magical monsters through the power of friendship, and this issue spotlights two of their stories: first, get a preview of the first part of the upcoming Lumberjanes: Shape of Friendship original graphic novel when a visit to the boys’ camp gets a little knottier than expected and second, enjoy a short story of one time Ripley had to use her wits to save Jen from certain doom! Want more? Pre-order the Shape of Friendship OGN today, or pick up a previous volume of the intrepid scouts’ many adventures from the shelves today! [ALL AGES]

In this collection of short, spooky tales, Casper the Friendly Ghost struggles to stop his friends from pulling mean pranks on one another and goes out of his way (and out of orbit...sort of) to make new friends. Enjoy a haunting from the world’s kindest ghost while you alternate groans and giggles over the antics of his less-than-kindly friends and neighbors. Want more? Grab a Casper issue off the racks today! [ALL AGES]

This underwater one-shot introduces us to Alex the Parrotfish, who is eager to head to the big city of Coralton and find a job! Unfortunately for Alex, his quest runs into a few hiccoughs (some with big, pointy teeth!) that threaten to leave his plans high-and-dry, not least of which is that on the reef everybody has a very specific role in the ecosystem...which you can learn more about in the backup Guide to the Bahamas which identifies all the different fish Alex met along the way, and more! [ALL AGES]

Meet Gillbert, a small sea creature, and his underwater friends. Gillbert is the son of the king and queen of all the oceans, but today he just wants to sleep in! Too bad for Gillbert that today is Everything Day, when you can do Anything...except sleep, at least if you have friends like his! Read the first chapter of Gillbert’s newest adventure by Art Baltazar, creator of Tiny Titans and one of the greatest cartoonists of kids’ comics working today! Want more? Check out the first volume of Gillbert’s adventures, Gillbert the Little Merman vol 1, on shelves now, or grab some of Art Baltazar’s earlier work and see where all that AW, YEAH! got started! [ALL AGES]

One of the classics of comic book history, in this FCBD special Little Lulu is as bold, troublesome, and adventurous as ever! Despite being created in the 1930s, Lulu remains an empowering little girl: assertive, independent, and imbued with expert comedic timing, Lulu was a defining comic of post-war America today this protofeminist icon is ready to bring her gags and giggles to a new audience with a collection of reprints starting later this year. Get in on this not-so-lost treasure early. Want more? Sign-up for the upcoming first volume now, or begin with the John Stanley: Giving His Life to Little Lulu HC and learn about her seminal creator and the history he and Lulu influenced. [ALL AGES]

In this one-shot issue, the Thirteenth Doctor and her friends find themselves in an interstellar amusement park for some rest and recreation (and don’t forget the snacks!) until a rigged game of chance exposes a darker underside to all the shiny, happy fun. Can Yaz, Ryan, Graham, and the newest incarnation of the BBC’s famous Time Lord save the day? Find out here! Want more? Grab an issue of the new Thirteenth Doctor series off the rack, or explore the exploits of the previous twelve incarnations in some of our collected adventures off the shelf or by special order! [ALL AGES]

Written, drawn, and colored by legally blind (no, really!) New Zealander Richard Fairgray, Blastosaurus is the story of the titular mutant triceratops with fists of fury and a heart of gold and the two young kids who become his best friends. Overcoming his beastly nature, good ol' Blasto fights monsters, vampires, and mad scientists who use farts as a weapon. The result is a fun comic with a goofy sense of humor where anything is possible. Think Hellboy running through a MAD Magazine, with a little bit of the bizarreness of Creepy or Eerie thrown in. If you like dinosaurs, punching evil, and think flatulence is funny, this is the book for you (and your kids)! Want more? Grab a collection, or dig into the recent back issue bins for some single issues! [ALL AGES]

This treasury of British comics stacks-up a monstrous plethora of humorous hi-jinks, from sharks to soccer to super heroes and back again! In the grand tradition of classic comic strip funnies, this packed-to-the-brim collection of short tales is ready to tickle your funny bone from dawn to dusk to full moon! [ALL AGES]

Co-created by football star (or “soccer” for we uncultured Americans) Cristiano Ronaldo, this new secret super team stars a fictional version of the famed kicker turning his sports skills toward world-protecting. It’s bright, silly, and kids-centric, fleshed-out with sidekicks like the super-baseball bat-weilding Sita Shaolin and the hammerhead shark-headed hockey stick-swinging Kaiju King, but the key of the team is the power-borrowing sphere that Ronaldo has to deliver to the bad guys via his super soccer kicking skills! Think Teen Titans Go, but with football (soccer). Want more? Keep your eyes peeled for more Striker Force 7 comics in the near future! [ALL AGES]

Brought to you by the producers and animators of the hit TV show and features all your favorite characters; Bob, Linda, Tina, Gene & Louise, this issue reprints three impossible Bob’s Burgers stories: one featuring a carnival ride that does a lot more than just spin, one that involves a magic wish melting with regret, and one of Tina’s fanfiction extravaganzas! Want more? Order one of the earlier Bob’s Burgers collections and relive watching the show all over again! [ALL AGES]

The world of Marvel’s movies might have reached an end point for the moment, but things for the comic book Avengers are dicier than ever! Preview upcoming adventures for two series in this issue. First, Tony Stark finds himself facing eerily familiar faces in a time he never wanted to see, while Namor and the Squadron Supreme heat up the oceans and Captain America and Captain Marvel lead a team of heroes deep into Shi’ar space! Then, read the first chapter of the new Savage Avengers series staring such “classic” Avengers characters as Wolverine, Elektra, Punisher, Venom, Blade, and...Conan!? There’s no slowing these heroes down, True Believers! Want more? Grab the first issue of Savage Avengers off the shelves today, or dive into the ongoing Avengers title for adventures both near and far! [TEEN]

Read the full first issue of Hope, a brand-new ongoing superhero comic. The “Ultras” first showed up five years ago, changing the world with their powers. Some people love them, some people fear them, but for unassuming mom Julie Lavelle they were a carefully-guarded secret...until the car accident that changed everything. Where will the ultra named Hope go from here, and with so much loss will she be able to find her namesake within herself ever again? Find out here, than come back later this summer for Issue #2 where things, somehow, get worse! [TEEN]

Two of television’s most beloved series (one long-running and one far, far too short) return to comics! First, preview the new Firefly series set before the tragic events of the Serenity movie that reveals some ugly skeletons from Mal and Zoe’s wartime closets and strains the crew’s bonds like never before. Then, go back to Sunnydale where everything old is new again with a modern reboot of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Buffy is back in high school again for the first time, surrounded by familiar faces...but how different will things be when she’s slaying in 2019 instead of 1997? Enjoy a modern twist with a classic taste (of blood!) and grab your stakes...and browncoats! Want more? Find the first issues of either series on the shelf today, or delve into the classic collections of the previous Dark Horse stories. [TEEN]

This two-for-one issue explores both the darker and lighter sides of the Spider-Man mythos! In the first story, prepare yourself for danger as Eddie Brock introduces us to the brutal beginning of Absolute Carnage, a Venom-event starting this August. Then enjoy the lighter side of super-heroics as Miles Morales and Peter Parker face-off over an epic conflict of their own...who really has the best pizza in NYC? Want more? Check out the latest issues of Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, Miles Morales Spider-Man, Venom, or Amazing Spider-Man on the shelves today -- or read-up on previous events in our extensive collection of various spider-rific comics! [TEEN]

What if experiencing a school shooting was so traumatic that it, and other natural and human-produced horrors of the 21st century, actually triggered superpowers to manifest in the survivors? That is the brainstorm behind Humanoid’s first ongoing comics initiative, H1. This FCBD “Ignition” preview gives us a story about these brand-new superheroes (and villains!) trying to find their place in the world...and they aren’t content to stand by and watch the status quo! Also take a behind-the-scenes peek into the creative process and characters of this blisteringly topical political premise: Spearheaded by comic book legend Mark Waid, Humanoids looks ready to break into the superhero market with a set of relevant and wholly original stories. Want more? Sign-up for the first issue next month’s debut of Ignited now. [TEEN]

It’s School Picture Day in Riverdale, and that of course means drama -- but there might be more at work today than Cheryl Blossom’s demands for more flattering lighting! When nasty notes turn up anonymously dropped in the yearbook suggestion box, will our small town friends be able to stick together and solve the case, or will someone do something that everyone will regret? The new Riverdale: Season Three comic series features adventures set between the episodes of the hit show, and as always in the town of Riverdale the moment you start digging for answers the more secrets you expose! Also enjoy some behind-the-scenes sneak peeks as well as an excerpt from the prequel novel Riverdale: The Day Before. Want more? Grab the latest issue of the new Riverdale series off the rack, or explore our variety of collected editions from the traditional Archie Digests to the modern re-vamp of the Archie and Sabrina series and, of course, the show-inspired Riverdale comic itself! [TEEN]

Canada's perennial titular superhero has seen sporadic publication since its creation in 1975, but has been appearing more consistently since 2015 as part of Chapterhouse Comics. This preview of the newest Captain Canuck series starts with a "top secret" dossier to catch you up on recent in-world history, as well as background on some of his allies and enemies. We also receive a small hint of the action to come as the Captain and his French Canadian partner, Kebec, fly into an underground lair for some robot-bashing action! [TEEN]

The beloved Robotech series continues with a revolutionary new revisioning! Jump on board for the next big event right here with this mind-blowing first chapter of Robotech: Event Horizon, beginning this summer with Issue #21!  Plus a Curtain Call backup featuring...Minmei!? Check it all out here, then grab a collected edition of the previous issues or sign-up for the start of Event Horizon this summer! [TEEN]

Time-displaced warrior-queen Malika struggles under the burden of the Dragon’s Doom in this preview of her newest adventure, Malika: Fire & Frost. An enchanted sleep sent Malika 500 years into the future but ancient curses do not give up their hold that easily...and neither do her adversaries! The quest for the Dragon Stones is a dangerous one, but what happens when someone new gets caught-up in the fight? Read the first chapter here, then check out the previous two volumes in her epic chronicles: Malika: Warrior Queen on shelves now! [TEEN]

What if one day, all the animals all over the world woke up and started talking? That is the story of Animosity, an epic adventure following human girl Jesse and dog Sandor across the resulting cataclysm. But Jesse and Sandor are not the only ones with a story to tell. In this one-shot, bio major Meredith and Neon, the beta fish who loves her, have to face the terror of life outside the tank. Want more? Grab the first volume of Animosity off the shelves today! [TEEN]

Mel has a secret: she thinks she’s dying. She’s also a clandestine superhero tasked with protecting all of mankind. A chance meeting in a cemetery between the bleeding woman and a kid hiding-out with her sketchbook changes everything...except the fact that being a superhero isn’t easy. Is Jessie up for the challenge? Find out in this FCBD reprint of the first issue of Punchline, the new super-powered super-star from Antarctic Press! Want more? Order the first volume of the sold-out series, Punchline: Blood Sisters, today! [TEEN]

In this adorably meta story, witness the epic throw-down between Sakura and Karin -- both in and out of the game! Can Sakura’s hard-earned skills perfected through after-hours practice at the arcade where she works compete with Karin’s meticulous, expensive training? Who will be the world champion of Super Chibi Puzzle Gem Fighter Ultra Turbo Arcade Edition? Fine out here! Want more? Raid the back issue bins for previous issues of Street Fighter, or grab a collected edition today! [TEEN]

This manga-style two-for-one issue features a story from the world of My Hero Academia and one from The Promised Neverland. In the first, enter a world where 80% of all people are born with “quirks” that give them super-powers! It’s an exciting, hyper-active world full of heroes and villains...but what about the 20% of people who aren’t born “super”? Jump straight into the action with a fight scene that’s more than meets the eye, and find out! Then in the second story, visit the orphanage where eleven-year-old Emma lives with her thirty-seven beloved siblings, enjoying an ordinary life of family, games, and companionship...along with the strange Daily Test, numbers tattooed on their necks, and a fence to keep them from ever going outside! Want more? There are multiple volumes of both manga available now, so grab one today! [TEEN]

Worlds collide in this special FCBD one-shot! When Tala and Eddie, estranged father-daughter duo on the run from good guys and bad guys alike, finally get their hands on an “escape hatch” to another world it seems like all their troubles are solved -- but the world where the Goon lives is never trouble free! When one pair contains a man trapped in the body of a pug and the other contains a newly-minted dogcatcher with a love of violence, is there any way things can end well? Plus, a back-up featuring Eric Powell’s appalachian horror comic, Hillbilly! Want more? Collections of all three series are available now, or grab the first issue of the new Goon today! [TEEN]

Red 5 Comics brings out a two-for-one sampler of high-concept post-apocalyptic stories. In The Dark Age, a mysterious mist destroys all the metal on Earth, immediately plunging society back into a medieval kingdom of wood, brick, and glass. In Afterburn, the world is scorched by a super-powerful solar flare and the story follows a group of thieves and mercenaries breaking into the most dangerous areas of the old world, attempting to recover lost artifacts for the remaining aristocracy. For readers looking for dark, mature stories of a dismal future, this comic is a perfect choice! [TEEN]

In this two-parter from Dark Horse, enjoy a one-shot set in the aftermath of Stranger Things where Nancy struggles to reconnect to her brother and find a way for both of them to return to normal life. Then preview the new series Black Hammer ‘45: Tales From the World of Black Hammer with a foray to the werewolf-riddled battlefields of World War II and a glimpse of the future of the ghostly Jack Sabbath. Want more? Pick up the first volume of Black Hammer, a series that takes the traditional tropes of the super hero world and twists them into new, marvelous, and weird new shapes, or grab the first volume of the Stranger Things tie-in comic exploring Will’s time in the Upside Down off the shelves. You can also sign up for the prequel series, Stranger Things: Six due out later this month! [TEEN]

In the sci-fi/horror world of Midnight Sky, things are always dark. But things are not always what they seem. In this unexpected dystopian tale, we enter a world where light reveals the people who have been replaced...but by what, and why? And how far will one mother go to protect her children when one of them is no longer human, and the other has a strange power that might save -- or doom -- them all? Plus, a preview of Long Live Pro Wrestling, when a fed-up announcer gets a little too honest for his boss and becomes a social media sensation, a short haunting by Gutt Ghost, and previews of several upcoming titles from Scout Comics! Want more? Sign-up for your favorites today! [TEEN]

Discover the strange, steampunk world of Lady Mechanika in this special issue which reprints her original 2010 debut one-shot as well as excerpts from two of her neweer adventures: The Clockwork Assassin and La Belle Dame Sans Merci. The mysterious mechanical woman stalks the streets in search of answers to her own origins -- but could she be a murderer herself? And how will she protect her friend Mr. Lewis from the dangers posed by an even more mysterious woman than herself? Gawk at the breadth of Lady Mechanika’s world, then grab a collection of her adventures off the shelves today! [TEEN]

In 1992, Todd McFarlane’s Spawn burst onto the comics scene. Today you can relive that moment with this reprint of that very first issue, complete with an exclusive new cover by Francesco Mattina. Enjoy a look back at the moment that started it all...or if you’ve never read Spawn before, now is the perfect time to jump on board before the movie! Want more? There are almost 300 issues of Spawn out there today, available in back issue singles and collections! Grab some today! [TEEN]

This two-part issue from Valiant Universe begins the newest saga in the life of nanite-infused ultimate soldier, Bloodshot, as well as setting the stage for the events of the Fallen World event due later this year which will pit the aforementioned Bloodshot against Rai, a haunted cyber-samurai. First witness Bloodshot at his most unstoppable as he seeks to save a doctor from those who would use her talents to make more beings like him; then explore the strain between truth and faith when “heaven” falls out of the sky in the opening salvo of Fallen World. Want more? Pick up a collection of Bloodshot or Rai or sign-up today for their new adventures in either the solo series or the Fallen World mini-series! [TEEN]

Return to the classics with this excerpt from Zagor: The Alien Saga. Originally created in 1961, the story of Zagor combines science fiction, horror, and westerns in one adventurous whole. Here, discover how the titular Zagor and his friend Chico first encountered beings from another world...and the darker, more familiar face beside them! Want more? Order a collection of this classic comic book today. [TEEN]

The main story of this one-shot features Dragonfly and Dragonflyman -- the same hero, but in two different worlds: one colorful and campy, the other gritty and dark! Juxtapose the biff, bam, pow! aesthetics of old school heroism with the grimdark hyper-violence of the nineties and today, and see how familiar faces can turn strange. But what will happen when cheerful Dragonflyman and grizzled Dragonfly change places in The Wrong Earth? Lay the groundwork of their worlds here, and then check out the back-up features introducing Captain Ginger, the feline captain of a ship full of interstellar cats, and a quick trip through the unfriendly world of Edgar Allen Poe’s A Snifter of Terror. Want more? All three series have collections available now! [TEEN]

When humanity left planet Earth behind, fleeing a dying world for a new start in the stars, they nuked it behind them in an attempt to wipe-out the vampires left behind. Unfortunately, in the shadow of that nuclear winter, those vampires evolved. Now with the bloodsucks on the brink of achieving space flight and coming after their wayward food source, humanity has one last chance to save itself: the Interceptor program. One surgically-modified, heavily-trained, even more heavily-armed warrior to wipe-out the vampire threat for good. But when she gets to Earth, she finds something she never expected... This kinetic, fast-paced, tongue-in-cheek comic sets up a battle for Earth the likes of which you’ve never seen! Want more? Pre-order the $17.99 graphic novel due out later this summer that reprints the original series, or jump straight to the sequel with the new four-issue Reactor mini-series, available now! [TEEN]

This year marks the 50th Anniversary of the first appearance of the Vampirella character in Vampirella #1, a Warren Publishing horror magazine and sister publication to the company's Creepy and Eerie magazines. As is befitting such an anniversary, Dynamite Comics is bringing out a new series with a new creative team to craft stories for the wry badgirl vampire. In this preview, we see our favorite scantily-clad bloodsucker endure assaults on social media, determined to discover her whereabouts and her secrets. The real treat in this FCBD exclusive is a bonus story, originally published in 1993, written and illustrated by comic book legends Kurt Busiek and Arthur Adams. Want more? Sign-up now for the new ongoing Vampirella series beginning later this summer! [TEEN+]

Jump in mid-action to the latest adventure of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles as they race through the city to save their friend and survive multiple ambushes! Then, discover the history of the saga back to the very beginning a long, long time ago in the back-up feature. Want more? Check out the reading order in the back of this issue for where to get started and then grab one of the TMNT’s collected editions off the shelf, or just keep going from here with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turltes #94, out later this month! [MATURE READERS!]

Jump feet first into the frenetic world of Deadly Class, ongoing comic and hit television show! What do kids going to assassin school do to blow off steam? Hit a concert, of course...but sometimes the work comes with them. Does making art actually change the world? What about revenge? And can you hold onto who you are when the world is trying to shape you into something else? If all that can be packed into just one issue, imagine how much goes on in the entire series...or stop imagining it, and pick up the first volume today! [MATURE READERS!]

In 2017, Emil Ferris published her first graphic novel, the unprecedented and brilliant My Favorite Thing Is Monsters, an exploration of everything from the trauma of a lonely childhood, the Holocaust, and totally awesome horror comics, all drawn with ballpoint pen and a perspective never seen before in comics. This only came about after Ferris experienced severe brain damage from a severe case of West Nile Virus and used drawing with a ballpoint pen as a form of physical therapy. This FCBD-exclusive provides an inside look into how My Favorite Thing Is Monsters emerged from that tragedy and includes Ferris's own guide to drawing monsters. Want more? Find the original graphic novel on our shelves today! [MATURE READERS!]

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT SUPPLIES ARE LIMITED AND ALL FCBD TITLES ARE FIRST-COME, FIRST-SERVED! WE SUGGEST YOU HAVE IDEAS IN MIND FOR BACK-UP BOOKS IN CASE YOUR FIRST CHOICE IS GONE!

Many of these books tie-in with comic series or graphic novels currently available in our stores, while others are previews for books that are soon to be released! If you enjoyed your free comics, or if you saw an interesting one in the list that you didn’t have the chance to grab that you’d like to read, ask one of your friendly neighborhood Comix Connection Counter Monkeys for help! We’ll be glad to give you more information -- or even order you some goodies!

[toonstarterz]

BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #141

The first half of Golden Week is over, and Tomoko has found herself the object of “platonic" affection for four different suitors. And as our intrepid heroine muses over the which of them to pursue, out of nowhere comes the dark horse. Once thought to be missing in action, this little girl, having been there since the very beginning, threatens to overtake the competition in one psychotic swoop. 

Chapter 141: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Go to School with Kii-chan

The things that Stuffed Yuu-chan and Pals have seen...

Ah, the classic Introvert Burnout. I had a feeling Tomoko would be drained after having what may have been the most socially stressful time of her life. Not simply for being social, but for how much she had to navigate as a fish out of water. Each “date” involved a new experience for Tomoko to address, and that much effort at once can be really exhausting for a layabout like her.

That my friend is what we in the TvTropes community call, “Tempting Fate”.

Heeeeeere’s Kii-chan!

Can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this entrance. We all know who Kii-chan is. But even those outside of the loop would get a feel for who she is. Adorable and sweet-natured, but disturbing due to an apparent lack of negative emotions (even when appropriate). Ah, Kii-chan, it’s been far too long. 

Nothing to say here, really. Just think it’s a particularly lovely picture of Tomoko. 

Because the popularity of a manga series is largely dependent on real-time reception, it’s very common for mangakas to add new, “popular” characters, or give the spotlight to characters who’ve been out of focus. Watamote is no exception. It may seem contrived to bring Kii-chan back after being gone for a while, but it works here because it relies on Kii-chan’s character to it, instead of a series of implausible plot developments. Kii-chan is just considerate of her cousin’s schedule–that’s all we need.

The first hint of Tomoko’s reawakening as the role model onee-chan. 

One of the perks of being a sporadically-appearing character is that you can really see just much the art style has evolved since the character’s last appearance. For Kii-chan, she hasn’t really changed much design-wise other than being a little taller. But even then, the linework is much cleaner and consistent this time around, which compliments the more “everyday slice-of-life” approach Watamote’s been embracing. 

If only she could grow a nose.  

The best thing about this type of censorship is that you don’t necessarily have to understand what's being censored. All you really need is a bit of context to put the pieces together. The outlines are detailed enough that we can see the characters as some kind of humanoids with animal features. And given what we know about Kii-chan, it makes perfect sense.   

Y-Yeah, I...I’ve totally heard of that show.

Other than the whole Ucchi situation (which is slowly becoming an unintentional blessing), this is the last of the misunderstandings that still needs resolving. It’ll be hard, though, since this particular issue isn’t that troublesome. For now...

Look at that platonic sibling bonding.

Perhaps I’ve been conditioned by manga/anime, but I find it refreshing how Watamote has managed to develop the Kuroki siblings’ relationship while avoiding any incestual subtext. Lots of series oversell the sibling relationship by having them be overly affectionate and clingy. With Watamote, their bond feels organic because they don’t have to be touchy-feely. An unspoken quality time is all there is to it.

It’s hard to get a read on Tomoko’s emotions here, but at the very least, she seems troubled. It could very well be that Tomoko just realized that she’s changing in regards to the media she consumes. The former her would’ve probably jumped on the Kemono Friends bandwagon, but the reality is, Tomoko’s otaku interests are being compromised by the mainstream, at least as mainstream as rap battles get. 

But the kicker is...she realizes this change isn’t all that bad.

Of course, nothing beats watching anime with your psychotic cousin. 

The whole “pet-sitting” relationship they have here is a tricky one since each side is trying to accommodate the other based on “flaws” that don’t exist (or no longer exist). This usually results in an endless cycle of misunderstandings that lead to nowhere, but this confusion has transcended that cycle to develop into a progression of sorts. Similar to the Ucchi situation, the absurdity became so frequent that it just became reality. One that each side has been influenced greatly from.

With her constantly adorable face, you forget that Kii-chan is a middle-schooler and is therefore old enough to know about things like sex and perversion. Like Yuu-chan, she may look innocent, and while she was aware of such things as a kid, she didn’t really get it until they approached high-school age.  

You know, I read this really good manga called Kaguya-sama: Love is War (shameless plug, I know), and they actually had a chapter about a rap battle a while back. Given that both series tend to be up-to-date on contemporary trends, it makes me wonder...has rap suddenly become a hot thing in Japan? Or has it always had its niche audience?

I’m sure many fans knew that this was going to be an inevitable development whenever Kii-chan showed up again. Unlike Tomoko’s school friends, Kii-chan wasn’t there to see the slow, gradual growth of Tomoko’s character, so it must have hit her like a ton of bricks to see her precious onee-chan go from helpless loner to mature teen in the blink of an eye. 

Sometimes I wonder just how pitiful Kii-chan thought Tomoko really was...

Why would you censor Disneyland now of all times?

Those of us who were clamoring to get close-ups of the photos taken in the Disneyland arc finally get their wish.

The Kowarith photo is my favorite, even though two-thirds of the people in it are faking their asses off. While that may be my personal bias towards the Tomoko-Yoshida-Yuri trio, I think it reflects a better sense of kinship between the girls. The effort is there, phony as it is, to support each other in an awkward situation, which is fundamentally what the series is all about.

The assumedly Fireworks photo is also pleasing, make no mistake. You can definitely feel more genuine emotions (or lack thereof) being expressed than in the other photo. But this focuses more on the individual than how they work as a collective group, despite there being more people. The girls ultimately look like six different colored Skittles–part of the same package, but each unique.    

Could this be the start of Kii-chan revitalizing her perception of Tomoko as a super popular girl? I sure hope so.

How ironic. Kii-chan’s perspective of Tomoko is starting to grow ever so gradually on the upside, whereas Tomoko’s perspective of Kii-chan grows more and more negative.

Hang on, is that supposed to be some fake Dragonite shirt? Neat.

At this point, people assuming that Yoshida as some kind of punk based on her looks is a dead horse of an issue. Some stereotypes exist for a reason, I suppose.

I see your game, Nico Tanigawa, using a deliberately vague line about “two girls” to make your readers overanalyze a single panel. All I have to say to that is that I am completely and utterly guilty.

One of the girls is probably Yuri, if only because she’s the only girl to appear in both photos. As for the second girl, your guess is as good as mine. I’m inclined to say Ucchi because if Kii-chan only has their appearances to go on, then Ucchi and her emoji-face make quite the impression.   

I’m getting Yuu-chan vibes here with the way Kii-chan phrases half-insults with a friendly demeanor. 

+ 1 TO THE HAREM.

Kii-chan is definitely that relative you leave a self-imposed boundary on. Fine in small doses, like at parties and family gatherings, but long-term exposure is unhealthy for the brain. This isn’t even a wholly exaggerated fantasy on Tomoko’s part. Okay, the eating bit is a little much, but given that Kii-chan allegedly dreams about treating Tomoko like a pet, the latter is right to be a little concerned.

There needs to be an AU one-shot of Tomoko, Tomoki, and Kii all going to the same school at the same time. Right. Now. 

I do appreciate that despite Kii-chan’s deteriorating sanity, Tomoko doesn’t view her as a lost cause and even tries to put a positive spin on it. Reconciliation Arc is a-go! 

Did Kii-chan really have that big of a growth spurt, or has Tomoko just reached her peak in height? Not sure how far the genetics will go, but Kii-chan becoming taller than Tomoko is only going to make her even more intimidating. 

This little scheme of hers is definitely reflective of the “old” Tomoko, but there’s a nice reversal going on here. Instead of Tomoko trying to make things sound cooler than they actually are, she’s trying to make things seem worse. Of course, Murphy’s Tomoko’s Law states that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Especially if Tomoko wants it to go right. 

Ah, Ogino. The only character whose relationship with Tomoko has remained relatively unchanged despite indirectly having the most impact on Tomoko’s life.

Better update her Wiki page now. 

It’s pretty telling how it’s these two who cause Tomoko the most grief. It’s not the delinquent who routinely bashes her face in, not the pervert(s) lusting after her little brother, and not the otaku who passive-aggressively teases her. As for why, I think it boils down to the fact that Ogino and Kii-chan challenge her comfort zone the most. It also doesn’t help that Tomoko doesn’t interact with them as often as the others, so she hasn’t really had the time to get desensitized by them.

This freakin’ teacher, man.

The second worst part of Ogino’s “help” is that she never actually lies. Sure, she exaggerates to hell and back, but it’s always loosely based in reality, like some cheap movie adaptation of a best-selling novel. 

But the worst part of it is...you can’t hate Ogino for it. Her personal assessment may be founded on largely suspect reasons, but it’s still an honest assessment. I have no doubts that Ogino really is proud of Tomoko, and that’s exactly why she’s the best worst teacher.

That’s true. If Ogino gave that spiel to people like Hijirisawa or Hatsushiba–y’know, people who don’t know her as well–they might actually buy that crap. But people who know Tomoko like Yuri or Nemo, people like us, can tell that Ogino’s sugarcoating the whole thing. Kii-chan, with her terrifying skill for knowing too much, is no exception.  

Ah, I see. This is one of those put-all-the-secondary-characters-who-we-haven’t-seen-in-a-while-into-one-chapter chapters. 

Can’t complain, though. I like Itou. 

“Or something” can also be translated as “lust after Tomoki”. 

We don’t really have much to go on for how Itou views Tomoko, but I think it’s reasonable to think that she may not see her in that good of a light. Not only did Tomoko give off a weird impression when she played off the whole fist bump thing, but Itou’s “powers of perception” probably made her aware of Tomoko and Komiyama’s frenemy-ship, hence her “warning” that Komiyama was around.

The Inherent Awkwardness of Second-hand Relationships: The Life of Tomoko.

Betcha’ no one saw this interaction coming. Whether it’ll lead to anything more remains to be seen. Itou’s still got the whole “friendship potential” going on with Futaki, but given that she has the tolerance to BFF Komiyama, I see no reason why she can’t befriend a psycho like Kii-chan. 

That desire to “loudly blow” is Kii-chan’s inner demons screeching out in desperation for release. I pity the fool who unleashes the beast.

That does sound like your typical amateur definition of a psychopath, doesn’t it?

For the record, I don’t actually believe Kii-chan is a psychopath, despite the jokes I made. There are way too many moments that discredit such a claim. Now, if you were to accuse Kii-chan as being some sort of deviant (sexual or otherwise) I might see that. But ultimately, I think Kii-chan was just a victim of having her innocence shattered too fast and too soon, which made her more, uh, crafty than Tomoko could handle. 

Man, it’s been a long time while since we last saw Dicky-chan, hasn’t it? Hope we get to see more of her (and Sayaka, for that matter) after this chapter.

I love how even when she’s collecting masturbation material, Komiyama has to hold her camera phone all lady-like. If the term “purevert” ever needed a concrete definition, this girl would be it.

Main Character privileges, that’s why. 

Get. The. FUCK. Out. Of. Here.

With each subsequent appearance, Komiyama’s standard for what constitutes a bitch primed to steal away her Tomoki-kun falls hilariously lower. It’s not enough that a girl in their class makes two seconds of eye contact with him, nosiree. Any girl with an inkling of a relationship with Tomoko is not immune, even if it’s his own damn cousin. Granted, I don’t think Komiyama would be so pathetically scummy as to confront Kii-chan about it like she did to Yoshida.

...I hope.

“Best friends” may be stretching it now that we’ve gotten this far in the series. However, there is one aspect of Tomoko and Komiyama’s relationship that triumphs over all the others:

Absolute candidness. Even now, the only one who gets to see the complete, raw package that is Tomoko Kuroki is Komi-something. While Tomoko has made substantial friendships with the likes of Yuri, Nemo, and Katou, Tomoko still restrains herself just a tad lest she pushes them away. It’s only with Komi that Tomoko bears her full ugliness, which I think has developed into some freakish level of respect/understanding that none of the others can claim.

Damn, even the bishounen dude gets to make an appearance. All we need know is Lethal Chef Girl to make a cameo and I’m set. 

Nope. Any game is an away game when your “harem” shows up to cheer you on.

A few people have expressed discontent with how the chapter seems to end so abruptly, and it’s a fair criticism. It may be the lack of a “Next time...” tagline throwing people off, but while this chapter indeed ends at an odd point, it’s not that unprecedented. Some of the previous chapters ended this way, like that time Komi was all “Oi!” at Yoshida at the cafeteria, which indicates that this chapter is likely one of those series-of-vignettes that also doubles as a build-up chapter. 

On a positive note, while the chapter does feel prematurely ended, how the next chapter plays out if it is connected to this one is sure to be a surprise. 

[sakichi56]

Servamp Character Appreciation week Day 1 Part 3:

His father acted extremely kind toward the officers for helping him get his son back, and he was even nice to Ash, until they got home behind closed doors anyway. That was when he went back to being his old self that Ash knew him as. He immediatly dashed the boys hopes of having a normal life with his father. It wasn't bad enough that he had ruined Ash's life, but he had gotten that innocent and kind woman arrested for nothing, ruining her life too. This was why he never tryed to make friends, it would only end badly. Dragging others down and ruining their lives.

His father laughed cruely as Ash realized how futile it had been trying to start a new life. He would never escape his father as long as he lived. And his father was quick to tell him as much, respouting all the same things he had told him up until he left, that he was a useless, hopeless piece of trash that only destroyed everyone and everything he came into contact with. Something inside the boy broke then, as he resigned himself to take the beating that his was so eager to deliver. Quietly taking every blow, verbally and physically. It continued for an entire hour until the man tired himself out and left the boy crumpled, bleeding and gasping for air on the floor of the living room, to retire to his room for the night. But not before he promised that he would pick up where he left off tomorrow since it was the anniversary of the day his beloved was taken from him by that monster of a son of his.

Ash didn't even have the strength to move himself to the couch before he passed out. His last thought was that his father was right, that he was an awful monster that only existed to ruin peoples lives. And he hated himself for it. When he woke up it was 7 in the morning, staggering to his feet, he stumbled out the front door with no specific destination in mind. He just wanted to leave that place with bad memories behind. He realized however, that no matter where he went, the memories would follow him. The only way to erase the memories, was to erase himself from this world, to end it all.

So that is what he decided to do. It would get rid of the pain, and it would keep him from destroying anyone else's life. He wasn't sure yet how he was going to do it, but he knew he was going to die today. The same day that his mother died, the same day he born. It was ironic really, to have your birthday and your deathday be one and the same. Just 18 years in this world and he was already done with it, it was too much of a pain, too troublesome. So he kept walking he thought about slitting his wrist, but that would be slow and painful, as would throwing himself into a river to drown himself, he had already felt enough pain in his life, to the point that he didn't even scream anymore.

He just wanted to end it all fast and painless.

Somewhere along the way he must have passed out again, because he came to in a dirty alley with stray cats feeding from the nearby dumpster as his only company. "Life's hard even for you huh? But even still, at least your cute. I'm sure it would be easier to live as something so small and loveable like you. Ah, maybe in my next life I can be a cute little house cat. That sounds like a nice life, being able to sleep whenever you want, have all your meals handed to you, and get all the pets and attention you want. Yeah, that sounds like a great life to me."

One of the cats meowed back almost like it was trying to answer him, and he almost laughed at the pure silliness of the situation, talking to a dirty stray about wanting to die and become a cat loved by its owner. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the wall of the building behind him to rest and build up some strength to go on, or maybe if he was lucky he would just die here. That was when a man with hair almost the exact same color as his peeked his head around the corner of the building and saw him. He said that he thought he heard someone talking and he wanted to make sure that everything was alright. When Ash only scoffed and told him to leave him alone the man ignored him and walked up right beside him.

"How could I just leave you alone? You look awful. You need help, your parents must be worried sick."

Scoffing again Ash told the man that it was his father who did this to him and that he didn't want help, he just wanted to die. The man smiled at him and said that he was going to help him, and for a moment the teen thought this would play out just like it did with Ms.Brown, the man began to lift him off the ground and throw him over his shoulder as Ash struggled against him. "Shhh. I'm helping you. There is no reason to be afraid little one." Was all he heard before he had a rag shoved over his mouth and nose that reeked of chloroform, as the world went black he thought that god couldn't be any crueller than this.

When he woke up again, he was strapped to a table, there were dead bodies piled in the corner of the lab, and tubes of various colored fluids all over the place. Well, if he were to die here it would all be fine with him.

But it seemed the man who brought him here had different plans. He told him it was a 50/50 chance, either he died like he wanted, or he proved the mans experiments successful. He shook his head at the man, he didn't want to be a part of some wack-jobs experiments. He just wanted to die. The man of course ignored him and stepped forward with a vial of some strange liquid, it smelled awful and tasted even worse as the man forced it down his throat.

It burned, the pain was worse than any beating he had ever taken from his father, it was so bad that a wave of silent tears began to roll down his cheeks as he writhed under the straps securing him to the table before going deathly still, his eyes burned, begging him to shut them, his whole body felt like it was shutting down and for a minute he thought he got his wish. Eyes sliding shut as his conciousness faded.

But no, fate still had more instore for Ash it seemed, he was very disappointed when he returned to the world of the concious. Opening his eyes slowly, he turned his head to see the man taking notes while looking him over, almost as if he were apraising him. "Well, it seems like it worked. I just need to run a couple tests. What was your name sleepy boy?"

He glared as best he could at the man before deciding it was pointless to try and fight him when he was still strapped to a table. "Ash." He mumbled.

"Ah, yes Ash, well from noww on you will be known as Sleepy Ash of Sloth. Congratulations, boy, you are my first success! The first in the set! What a joyous day it is. Now hold still and open you mouth." That was a strange command, but the boy obliged, he disn't know what the man was talking about, Sleepy Ash of Sloth? What kind of nickname was that? Was it because of the bags under his eyes? Maybe if he played along he would get an explanation. "Perfect, they are there, and your eyes have turned red, fascinating. Then the only thing left is to see if you are truly immortal."

Wait. What? Immortal? But he wanted to die! A second later the man had shot him through the chest 3 times, it hurt, but not as bad as it hurt when he had that fluid shoved down his throat. After 10 minutes the wounds had closed up all on their own.

Apparently passing the maniacs tests. The man then set about explaining to him that he was now the first of something called a 'Servamp', some kind of vampire butler. It all sounded extremely farfetched, like some kind of anime. The man was exstatic. He began to tell him that he would go on to do great things in his immortal existence, that he would meet and serve many humans by obtaining an item from them, as well as a new name and that once those two things were done he just had to drink some of their blood and a contract would be formed. Some kind of bond that would make him stronger.

"Oh, and I heard you in the alley. You said that you wanted to be a cat in your next life, well guess what? This is your next life! And your prayers have been answered! Since you are a vampire, you cannot maintain your humanoid form in the sunlight, so you transform into an animal to deal with the suns rays. And the animal that you get to transform into is a cat! Who knows what else you will be able to do? This is truly marvelous! Don't you think Sleepy Ash? Hahahaha!!!"

Marvelous he says. What's so marvelous about all this? Now he was stuck being this mans puppet forever. He just wanted to die and he couldn't even have that now because he was immortal. He really was a monster now. YES A MONSTER. What was that? DADDY'S LITTLE FREAK. HELLO SLEEPY ASH. He blinked and was suddenly brought into a strange new world, everything seemed to have a hazy static to its washed out colors. And there was a cat with a stictched shut mouth and large pupilless red eyes. ITS NICE TO MEET YOU. LOOKS LIKE WE WILL BE ROOMMATES SLEEPY ASH. "What are you talking about? Who are you? And where am I? What is this place?"

[andromedahawking]

NaNoWriMo Day 6

10K!!!

Tatie sipped her drink. “Then again, college professor money isn’t really anything to make a fuss about anyway. So I guess he does make a lot of money off it compared to the average.”

“That’s pretty nice. I’ve really only got the money for the bottom two floors of my landlady’s house.”

“You rent someone’s house? That’s interesting.”

“Well, I guess, but it’s not really that uncommon. It’s nice, and my landlady rents it to me at a really unbeatable rate. I wouldn’t be able to get anything like it anywhere else in this area.”

“That’s true,” Tatie laughed. “This place strikes me as a ‘rich people in the valley’ kind of area.”

“It is,” Maria nodded. “Which goes really well with my whole aesthetic of hating people who remind me of my low status.”

“Oh, then you must love me.”

“Oh yeah, totally. I’m jealous just looking at you. You have the pretty face, the nice hair, the good clothes, what’s not to love?”

Tatie giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Stop, you’ll make me blush. And look who’s talking! You’re way prettier than I am.”

“Oh, my god, don’t you get started,” Maria said. “You’re prettier than me, you’re not allowed to tell me I'm the pretty one around here.”

“Factually incorrect,” Tatie said with a smirk.

“Okay, we’re obviously gonna disagree on this one,” Maria said. “I stand by my findings, though.”

“Alright, then. And I stand by mine.”

Their food came, and they spent a few minutes in silence as they ate.

Tatie spoke first. “Hey, I’m curious—what about your parents? I told you about mine, what’re yours like?”

Maria let out a quiet hiss between her teeth. “My parents are… interesting people. To say the least.”

Tatie’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooo, I’m sensing a story behind that. Wanna share, or does that require a little more time getting to know each other first?”

“Nah, I’ll share with you now. It’s good to get it out of the way,” Maria said. “It’s a fun one, though, so we’ll be needing refills on our drinks.”

Tatie’s smirk became a grin. “Now I’m really interested.”

“You’ll enjoy this.

“My parents are a couple of typical New Jersey folks, born and raised. Mom’s name is Theresa, Dad is Richard. Surname of Prince.”

“I thought your last name is Taylor.”

“It is,” Maria nodded. “That’s my legal last name.”

“So, what, was your mother’s maiden name Taylor?”

“Nah, her maiden name is Youngston. I had my name changed when I was 15.”

“Oh…” Tatie’s face wasn’t quite as bright now. “So there was, um… ah, fuck, what’s the English term—bad blood! Bad blood?”

“Yeah, there was a lot of bad blood between us,” Maria sighed. “Because they really fucked up my life from the get-go. You know the whole thing that happened in the 60s about designer babies, the ‘tailor-made’ shit?”

“Yeah, I remember reading about that in school.”

Maria pointed to herself. “Congrats, you’re looking at one of ‘em.”

“What? You were genetically modified?”

Maria let out a little laugh. “Yeah, that’s a—that’s the blunt way to put it.”

“Oh—sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Nah, don’t worry too hard about it, I’ve got better things to be mad at anyway. But yeah, Mommy and Daddy decided that, rather than concieve their first child naturally, they’d rather have me grown in a lab and fuck with my genes so I’d be better than the riff-raff. That’s why I’ve got the hair, the eyes, and the fucking perfect skin. They also gave me all those super boosts to the immune system everybody was raving about.”

“Oh, Jesus, they really went the whole nine yards, huh?”

“Yup. Wanna know why?”

“Do I?”

“They did it to make a statement. To say science is good or some freshman English level BS.”

“Oh my god.” Tatie looked down at her drink, then downed the rest of the glass in one gulp. “Yeah, I see what you mean now. This calls for at least another round.”

“Yeah, especially since that’s only the foundation for all of the stuff that comes up after it,” Maria said. “It gets worse.

“Since I was the tailor-made baby, I was given the expectation of being a good example on every level. I had to be some sort of golden girl because of something they decided for me, which is bullshit upon bullshit.”

“Yeah, holy shit. I’m guessing things didn’t quite go so smoothly on that?”

“That’s being polite. I grew up with it, but by the time I was about 11, I started wising up to what was really going on with things, and, being a precocious pre-teen, I started acting up as well. And my parents got mad. Like, really mad about it.”

“Oh god, this doesn’t end well, does it?”

“No, it does not. Remind me at some point that I need to talk about how my little sister fits into it.

“So, since I was fucking up the perfect image these guys were working so hard to create, they got angry, and I started to suffer the consequences for my actions. Y’know, for all the stuff they would say about being caring, loving parents and never wanting to hurt their kids, they did an awful lot of it. Never anything physical, although Dad came awfully close a couple of times near the end. So I decided I wanted out, and I spent ages 13 through 15 working up a case to bring to court, and I actually managed it.”

“Yikes. That’s pretty scary.”

“Yeah. I moved out, changed my last name, used all my savings to pay for my last two years of high school while I got a job, and I got lucky with finding my landlady, so I had a good place to stay.”

“What about your sister? How did she deal with things?”

“Oh, man, she got the short end of the stick, which is saying a lot. If I was the golden girl who was expected to make the family look progressive or some shit, Thalia was the extra. They managed to get some bonus points with her despite her all-natural conception, since she was born blind, but she turned out to be just as troublesome as me. Worse, even. ‘Cause I only acted out by ruining my image, but she went further and actually went out of her way to piss other people off. For a blind kid, she apparently knows how to pick a fight.”

“Damn. I imagine she never really came out the winner in those.”

“Nope. Multiple bloody noses and awful bruises. And boy howdy, I could feel Dad’s shouting through the floorboards in my room upstairs.”

“Yikes. Richard does not sound like a very nice guy at all.”

“Oh man, what I wouldn’t give for an opportunity to tape his mouth shut and give him the shouting of a lifetime one of these years. I have enough repressed rage to power my house for a month.”

“Man, this makes my life sound positively idyllic,” Tatie said. “The worst I had to deal with was a few mental illness problems caused by my own unrealistic expectations.”

“Well, I can’t judge you for that, unfortunately, ‘cause I know mental illness is a fucking beast that doesn’t really care who you are or how good your life is.”

“Yeah, that much is true. I’ve spent the last five years of my life on medications for anxiety and depression and it’s honestly a bit of a fucking nightmare sometimes.”

“I could probably use something similar, myself,” Maria said. “I haven’t had the spare cash to afford mental treatments.”

“Yeah, from where I sitting, I think you could also benefit from some professional help,” Tatie giggled. “As well as some better living conditions than paycheck to paycheck.”

“Well, I can’t really complain about the pay part. Everybody goes through that phase when they leave the nest. I wouldn’t mind a little extra spare change every so often though, give me the chance to come out here more. That would be nice.”

“Maybe next time we get together I should just invite you to my place. That way we don’t have to worry about picking up a check when we’re finished.”

“I wouldn’t mind that so much. What would we do at your place?”

“Oh, we could do a lot of things. We could watch movies, cook, maybe bake something, get drunk, all the good stuff that girls normally do together, y’know?”

“I like the sound of that. I like the sound of that.”

“Of course, the real question is, would we get anything done for the project in the process? Because, after all, part of this is to get to know you as a groupmate, not just as an unfairly attractive friend.”

“Okay, first of all, sweetie, like I said, the attractive one at this booth is you, not me, and second of all, you make a fair point.” Maria took a big sip of her drink. “I think we could get a lot done for the project if we put our minds to it. The big roadblock would be focusing, and I think given our previous experiences dealing with idiots in group projects, we would be too afraid of dealing with that shit again to let ourselves slide. Especially since we’ve got people like Hannah and Adrien on our asses this time.”

“Very true,” Tatie nodded. “I don’t know much about Adrien, but I can vouch for Hannah’s track record. She’s very strict about keeping projects moving. It gets nasty if you don’t stay on her good side.”

“Ah. Excellent. We’re five for five on people in this group who will tear out the throats of the slackers.”

“Oh, I enjoy being a part of that group. You get to see the fear in their eyes.”

“The best of things. Those fuckers earn it.”

“Damn right they do. I see no reason to show mercy.”

[fellintotartarus]

Camp Saving Grace

This is the fic I wrote for the @pjofemslashminibang! My partner was @fuvkingmagnus, who did the art for this.

words: ~5k

Reyna sighed with satisfaction, holding up the final finished product for the rooming lists. She knew some of the returning campers very well, and she made sure to put all the friends together, but not the ones that would cause trouble. There were a couple troublesome pairs; there were the Stoll brothers, always causing some prank or another. Reyna hated keeping them apart, but they were little rascals and they’d probably find their way into the same cabin anyway. She made sure all the enemies were on opposite ends of the camp grounds, so they didn’t even have to share a bathroom. At the bottom of the paper, she signed her name in her neat, loopy cursive: Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano.

Reyna walked up to the head counselor’s cabin; her home for the next month. It was only slightly more luxurious than the campers’ cabins. It had her own bathroom, and two queen beds (one of which she wouldn’t be needing) and a small desk. She placed the papers on her desk to use for reference later. She looked at the clock and sighed. She still had 4 hours till the kids arrived by bus.

Reyna stepped out onto the porch and took in the sight in front of her. This was her favorite place in the world as kid, and it still was today. Camp Saving Grace for Underprivileged Kids was her home from the ripe age of 5 years old. When she and her older sister Hylla were orphaned, they spent almost all the time here. Now she did so as head counselor. The year-round option had been closed off the year Reyna turned 15 and her sister 18, but, now at 21, she still spent all of her free time possible alone in the Long Island woods (with the owner’s permission, of course).

The U of cabins sprawled out on the main lawn, all uniquely painted and decorated. All this was done by the campers the first year that the camp was open, in Y2K, the year of bad fashion choices, which was displayed in some of the cabins. Some cabins reflected the early morning light, leaving little sunspots on the dew bathing the grass. Others were wildly painted, faded a lot over the years, but still drawing a lot of attention. There were 12 cabins total, each containing 3 pairs of bunk beds. It was hard work sorting all the kids this year, but Reyna managed it.

The owner of the camp was the nicest man Reyna had met since Puerto Rico. She barely knew about his life, but she did know that he was generous. She had heard less than pleasant stories about him, but she preferred to remain in her bubble of ignorance. She knew he had two kids, but she didn’t know about them or anything, for that matter.

Reyna took a deep breath and went back inside for a quick nap, relishing in the familiar smell of the sheets. She was lulled into sleep by the sound of insects chirping outside.

Reyna woke up tired, and she immediately knew she slept too much. There was a shuffling and a curse, and Reyna snapped her eyes open, looking for the threat. Before she knew it, she had pinned down a short haired, petite girl, with, wow, a lot of muscle.

“Oh my god, let me go!”

Reyna’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Who the hell are you?”

The girl straightened up, as much as she could when she was pinned down and said, “Who am I? Who are you? I own this place!”

Reyna gave her an even more advanced look of confusion and the girl rolled her eyes. Reyna was promptly flipped over so they were both lying on their backs. A faint memory tickled the back of her head, as if she were trying to remember something, but couldn’t.

The strange person stood up. “Thalia Grace? Daughter of the owner? Damn, you’d think I’d get some cred with the head counselor, but I guess not. Reyna right? The one that’s been here forever?”

Reyna shot Thalia her perfected steely glare and nodded curtly. So, that’s where she knew her from. She wasn’t much for words, and this Thalia was speaking all too much. “So, what are you doing here? And why are you tripping over my boots like you’re drunk?”

Thalia looked exasperated. “It would help if you didn’t put them at the entrance of the cabin. And it’s a long story.” She sighed and rubbed her head nervously.

Reyna just stood there and tapped her foot with a cocked eyebrow. If this girl was just going to barge in and disrupt her perfect summer, she was going tell her why.

Thalia sighed. “Fine… I may or may not have gotten in trouble, and my dad may or may not have told me that this was the only way to get my car, phone, laptop, credit card, you name it back. So here I am. Co-head counselor.”

Reyna’s eyes shot open wide. Co-head counselor? That’s not how that worked. That defeated the purpose of a head counselor. No way.

“Hell no.” Reyna whispered, half to herself.

“Um, hell yeah.” Thalia insisted. “You are not going to get in the way of me getting my life back.”

“Well, you’re not going to get in my way of making this the perfect summer for these kids.”

“Well, you’re…” Thalia looked at a loss for words. “Look, whatever. Can we at least pretend like I’m doing stuff? That way Dad will give me my stuff back and you can give these kids the summer they’ve dreamed of.” She said the last part sarcastically.

Reyna sighed. She might as well just come to terms with this. “You can’t just take the credit. Do at least some stuff. Convince the kids that you do stuff. Just don’t—” she waggled her finger, “—don’t mess up any of my plans. I spent months on these plans.”

Thalia pinched the bridge of her nose, closed her eyes, and shook her head. Reyna noticed a small tattoo of a crescent moon on her right forefinger; it was cute. Thalia said, “Sure, yeah, okay. I can, uh, make some announcements? And carry around a clipboard!” She said the last part as if it were a revelation and she deserved a Nobel Prize.

Reyna threw her arms up and said, “Great. Well now that that’s figured out, I have to get ready for the kids.”

Thalia’s eyes went the size of saucers. “They’re, like, 5 minutes away. I was about 20 minutes ahead of them. So…”

“Shit,” Reyna cursed, before running out, rather haphazardly, to meet the little rascals.

♥ ♥ ♥ 

             The entrance to Camp Saving Grace was somewhat extravagant. Reyna had been told by some of the campers that it reminded them of the Jurassic Park gate. That was a stretch.

             It was large and stone, a sort of a large arch. Once sleek and silver gas torches that lit at night left dark scorch marks on the rocks above them. That was probably the part that reminded the kids of Jurassic Park. A large wood sign at the top, worn at the edges and with water lines streaking down the letters, read “Camp Saving Grace” and then smaller at the bottom, “for Underprivileged Children.” It was magnificent, once upon a time.

             The buses full of kids ages 8-16 rolled through, and Reyna and Thalia waited, Reyna collected cool, and Thalia with sweaty palms. The buses were beat up after so many uses, and the sound coming from them sounded like an old man with one lung walking up the stairs.

             “Damn. They’re gonna die soon,” Thalia whispered, as if reading Reyna’s thoughts.

             “Shut up,” Reyna whispered back. She sighed. “Prepare for takeoff.”

             The kids got off the buses in mad fury; the younger ones off first because they always sat in the front, and the teens, few and far between, off last, with their earbuds in and their brains tuned out.

After everyone was settled in a clump with their bags, and after some of the older kids that had been around awhile exchanged hugs with Reyna, the two head counselors rallied for attention. Eyes locked with eyes and the summer began.

“Listen up, guys! I know you’re super excited for this summer to start, and I am, too, but there’s just some stuff we need to take care of before we can kick back.

“Okay! Heads of cabins! These are the people that have been here at least 5 years and are also one of the twelve oldest. I have Katie in cabin one, Jake in cabin two…” and so she continued until all of the cabin counselors knew where to go.

All the while, Thalia was just standing there with a stupid, fake smile on her face and rocking on her feet. Reyna tapped her on the shoulder and handed her the clipboard and whispered in her ear, “I’ll introduce you, and then you read what’s on that. Got it?” Thalia nodded.

“Okay, kiddos, guys, ladies, people, whatever you like,” she started. That was her line with the kids. They gave her shit the first year she was head counselor for not being inclusive of the ladies when she would say “guys,” and then she changed to “kiddos” and the older teens weren’t happy with that, and eventually it turned into the inclusion of all the kids, non-kids, ladies, men, and non-binary people of the camp. “This is Thalia Grace, she’s the daughter of Mr. Grace, the owner of this camp, and she’s here to be our co-head counselor! Now she’s got a few announcements on cabin rooming.”

The crowd of 72 kids started buzzing as soon as she said that. This was the good stuff. This would determine whether they would have a life for the next 4 weeks.

“Just read what’s on the list, okay?” Reyna muttered to Thalia. Thalia nodded quickly and brushed off the comment. She scanned the list with her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed. After a second though she just sighed, looked up, and said, “Go pick your cabins!”

Reyna gasped in horror as the young campers yelled in triumph and took off running toward the cabins. The older ones looked at her in confusion; they knew she didn’t work this way. “Everything has a place and everything in its place” was her life-long, or rather, summer-long motto.

Reyna wheeled on Thalia with furious eyes, which seemed to creep the hell out of Thalia.

“What the hell did you do?!”

Thalia sputtered for an answer, and eventually came out with, “I didn’t think it would matter?”

Reyna pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled loudly.

“I have to fix this.”

Thalia answered, “Or you could leave them be? They look like they’re having so much fun.”

She was right. The kids looked like they were having the time of their lives. She sighed. It’s not like the Stoll brothers wouldn’t’ve ended up in the same cabin anyway. They always found a way to trade or sneak in together or something.

“You’re right. I’m just going to let the counselors know, so they don’t freak out like I did,” she sighed. At this, Thalia let out a chuckled. She had a nice laugh. Reyna smiled and took off running.

♥ ♥ ♥

That night, after everyone was settled in their cabins for the night (“Lights out isn’t gonna make them sleep, Reyna.”) Reyna helped Thalia put sheets on the spare bed in the head cabin.

“Sorry I didn’t do this, I just wasn’t expecting you,” Reyna hurriedly explained.

Thalia snorted. “I guessed.”

“So, I guess we should come up with a shower schedule? The hot water doesn’t last long enough for two showers in a row. How often do you wash your hair?” Reyna’s eyes drifted up to Thalia’s short pixie cut, but not the “can I speak to your manager” kind. More of the badass “mess with me and you lose teeth” kind.

“Uh, I wash it every day, but my showers are never longer than 5 minutes ‘cause it’s short,” Thalia replied and rubbed her hair. Reyna really liked it. It was tough, but still feminine, and her black hair just framed her shockingly blue eyes so perfectly…

Reyna snapped out of it. She couldn’t be thinking like this. Not after what happened last time she liked a girl.

“Earth to Reyna?” Thalia waved her hand to get her attention.

“Sorry, I was just… uh, anyway, that bathroom schedule!” Reyna tried for a smile. It probably came out looking more pained than anything. “I wash my hair, like, every other day, and I need to take a short shower in the morning to wake up, or I don’t function right.”

“Cool, so then I’ll shower at night and you shower in the mornings, “Thalia smiled, and hers didn’t look like she was being eaten from the inside out.

Reyna went into the bathroom to change into her PJs and brush her teeth. When she came out, the lights were off and Thalia was laying in her bed playing something on her phone. Reyna sighed and got in bed.

“Lights out, I guess,” she muttered as she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

♥ ♥ ♥

The first week of camp flew by, and it consisted of only one crying child. Reyna considered it an accomplishment.

The Sunday that marked a week since the kids had arrived, she had an afternoon off. She bargained with Thalia to oversee everything for just three hours so she could take a well-deserved nap.

Just as she was dozing off, Thalia came bursting in, panting and covered in mud.

“Ok so you know how you were all excited with the record of only one crying kid the first week?” she started. “We now have 4 at the same time.”

Reyna groaned into her pillow and replied, “What happened? Can you not keep an eye on them for, like, 2 seconds?”

Thalia said, “I know, I know, I’m just not great with kids. Also, it was the Stolls.”

“Great.”

The Stolls were brothers that looked so much alike and were so close together in age that everyone thought they were twins. They were troublemakers, to say the least.

Reyna got out of bed and ruffled her long hair. She liked to wear it long because she might not care much about fashion, but she loved how badass she looked in long plaits. Thalia was gaping.

“What are you looking at?” Reyna asked.

Thalia turned red. “Oh, I just, uh, have never seen you with your hair down, I guess.”

Reyna thought about it for a second. It was plausible; she wore her hair in boxer braids almost all the time. Why Thalia was staring like that, though, was beyond her.

“Let’s walk and talk. What happened? What was the prank?” Reyna said as she slipped on her boots and put her long-ass hair in a haphazard ponytail.

“Well, they set up a mud bucket above the door of cabin eleven, and four of the 8s walked through at the same time. Then they set a piglet loose.”

“Where the hell did they get a piglet? And how did you get muddy?”

Thalia stiffened a little. “All the girls wanted hugs after they got slopped, sadly. I was victim #5.”

Reyna chuckled and picked up the pace to get those little boogers in trouble.

♥ ♥ ♥

Two days later, Thalia was lying in bed after not asking to borrow Reyna’s laptop.

“Come on, I just need to check my email,” Thalia had said after Reyna came out of the bathroom only to find Thalia with her laptop and a cara de ‘yo no fuí,’ as her Puerto Rican family would have said.

Reyna sighed and said, “Fine, just don’t tell your dad that I let you. He would fire me.”

“Uh huh,” Thalia replied, distractedly. Without looking up from the computer, she muttered, “I also need to check my Instagram, Twitter, and Tumblr.”

Reyna raised her eyebrows and sarcastically said, “Okay, and not Facebook?”

Thalis looked up from the computer, stared at Reyna, and whispered, “Facebook is dead, Reyna. Did you not go to the funeral?”

“I am amazed at your lack of picking up sarcasm,” Reyna said.

Thalia laughed and replied, “And I’m amazed at yours.”

Reyna’s brow furrowed and then shot up.

“Hey!”

The laughter could be heard all the way in Cabin 12.

♥ ♥ ♥

Over the span of the second week, Reyna and Thalia became closer. It was mostly sarcastic jokes and little giggles her and there, but there were some awkward, longing stares that made Reyna’s skin crawl. Why the hell was she being so weird? Thalia was nice, sure, and pretty, sure, and…

Stop.

Reyna shook her head. There was no way this could happen. Thalia probably wasn’t into girls and then she would be weird and tell her dad and then Reyna would get fired and have to live on the streets and die alone.

That was some odd forward thinking. She shook it off.

She wasn’t ready for this again. Granted, the last time she liked a girl, she was 5 years old in Puerto Rico, but it was the reason she and Hylla moved to the States… alone.

“Are you okay?” Thalia said with concern, snapping Reyna out of it.

“Uh, yeah, why?” Reyna replied, blinking the thoughts away.

Thalia meekly pointed at Reyna’s cheek. There were tears streaming down her face.

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry, that’s kind of embarrassing,” Reyna murmured and hurriedly swiped at her cheeks.

“No worries. You wanna talk about it?” Thalia muttered softly so as to not let the kids hear.

“Maybe later, in the cabin.”

Thalia nodded and turned around to address the kids.

“Ok, guys, I know you guys have an annual “halfway done” party to commemorate the first two weeks gone. Reyna’s not feelin’ it right now, so I’m gonna help you guys plan the activities for this Friday.”

Reyna shook her head. No way was she going to let this hell-raiser take control of the “halfway done” party. She opened her mouth to speak, but, without turning around, Thalia put a finger on her lips and continued talking.

“Reyna’s plans have boring stuff, like a movie night with Finding Nemo, and some chess lessons. Boring, right?” The kids joined in a chorus of yeahs. “Right, so, instead, we’re going to have water balloon fights and a pie eating contest followed by a killer dinner. Sound cool? Great.”

Reyna and Thalia walked away, Reyna sputtering in disbelief and Thalia with a grin on her face.

“They like me, right?” she inquired while having a smile to rival the sun.

Reyna, finally having regained the power of speech, replied, “Yeah, but you messed up my plans! I had those perfect!”

Thalia came to an abrupt stop and turned around. Reyna crashed into her back and her hand came in contact with Thalia’s butt. She promptly blushed profusely.

“Chess lessons? You thought that would interest them?”

Reyna’s voice got high and defensive. “I know what I’m doing! I’ve been head counselor or counselor of these kids for years!”

“Answer my question.”

“I put the chess lessons in there to keep them in check. If they have too many fun activities back to back, they go crazy. By putting in half an hour of chess, they calm down enough to allow wiggle room for them to get excited again. You try taking care of them after 3 consecutive crazy fun activities!”

Reyna took a deep breath. Ranting was not her favorite thing to do in the world, but it got her point across when she needed to.

Thalia stood there slack-jawed. She sheepishly looked down and answered, “I guess you do know these kids pretty well.”

Reyna whipped her ponytail and began walking toward their cabin. As she looked back over her shoulder and said “You better believe it,” she could almost be certain that a red-faced Thalia was staring at her back side.

♥ ♥ ♥

Reyna was sitting on her bed on her laptop when Thalia came out of the bathroom drying her short hair with a towel. She trained her eyes on her screen in order to not convey any emotion to the other girl. Her eyes began to water and she gave up, taking a big breath. She felt the bed dip at the end.

She looked up and Thalia was sitting at the foot of the bed, looking at her with concern.

“What?” Reyna said, looking back down at her screen.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened earlier?”

“With what?”

Thalia sighed and said, “You know… the crying.”

Reyna shook her head. “Not really.”

“Are you sure?” Thalia pressed.

“Yes.”

“Quite sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really, really, very, quite –”

“Fine. If it’ll get you off my case…”

“Yes, it will.” Thalia said firmly.

Reyna took another deep breath. She considered it. It wasn’t like she didn’t remember; on the contrary, she remembered it like it was yesterday. But she didn’t know if she wanted to tell Thalia. The girl was practically a stranger. Over the past few weeks they’d slowly become closer, but they still knew nothing about each other.

“Reyna.”

“What?”

“Tell me.”

“Jesús, you’re persistent.”

“I was born in Puerto Rico, where my dad raised me and my sister by himself. On one of the first days of kindergarten, I saw this one girl. She was so cute. She had this long, long dirty blonde hair, which was kind of exotic in Puerto Rico. Everyone was un frijolillo. She was really cute to me at the time. I already said that, didn’t I? Anyways, all the boys had little crushes on her. I really wanted to be friends with her. And you know how kindergarteners are, so I was friends with her within 2 days. She became my bestie. But I just didn’t feel like it was enough, y’know? So, one day, while we were on the playground, I kissed her. She didn’t get grossed out, in fact, she really liked it, too. We kept this up for about a week, going behind trees on the playground and kissing. Basically, just baby kisses, y’know? Little pecks on the lips. Then, one day, this kid saw us. He told on us and our parents got called. My dad was furious, calling me a lesbiana, and I didn’t even know what that meant. He kicked me out. Literally. He kicked me out of the door onto the street. I was 5. My older sister said that if I was gone, she was gone. She packed our bags for us while I waited at our favorite park and then we hitch-hiked to the docks and stowed away on a boat headed to Florida. We got caught in Tampa and got sent to foster homes all over the East coast, and finally ended up in New York. We got sent here in the summer. It all happened in less than a year,” Reyna finished, blinking away tears.

Thalia had tears running down her face and her hands covering her mouth. Reyna just sat there, tight lipped and with red-rimmed eyes.

“Oh my god. How old was your sister?”  Thalia whispered.

Reyna looked down and shut her eyes. “Eight.”

Thalia just shook her head. Tears were flung off her chin onto Reyna in her emphatic response.

“How could your dad be so cruel?” Thalia whispered.

“Yeah. He was cruel. When mom died, he reverted to drinking. When he got drunk enough, memories from the war would come back to him and he would try to fight them. The living room would end up wrecked and Hylla and I would have to clean up.”

“But how do you even remember all this?” Thalia replied in disbelief.

Reyna took a breath and started, “My family, going back all the way to Spain in the 16th century, was all soldiers. We adapted, I guess, to become strong and to have the good qualities necessary for a soldier in the military. That included a good memory. I was born with a freakishly good one, even the doctors noticed when I was really young. I can remember all the way back to my 2nd birthday.”

“Holy shit, that’s a good memory. Do you remember what I was wearing when we first met?” Thalia sort of leaned in and whispered.

Reyna shut her eyes and laughed a little bit, relieving the tension and trying to remember. “Black short sleeves, tight cargo pants,” she trailed off and opened her eyes to Thalia was wearing the same thing. “Seems to be your outfit of choice,” she said with a snort.

“Yeah. The pants are really comfortable and they make my butt look pretty great.” Thalia smiled.

Reyna laughed and nodded.

Thalia raised her eyebrows. “So, you agree?”

Reyna wrinkled her eyebrows. “What? About what?”

Thalia chuckled. “That they make my butt look good.”

“Oh,” Reyna squeaked. She took a breath. She prided herself in always speaking her mind, one way or another. This made no difference. So, she shrugged and said, “yeah.”

Thalia’s eyebrows raised and her face went red.

“I don’t deny myself the simple pleasures in life,” Reyna said with a cheeky smile.

“Is that a quote?” the still-red Thalia asked.

Reyna smiled. “The Fault in Our Stars.”

“Oh yeah! Damn, I love that book,” Thalia sighed.

Reyna cocked her head in disbelief. “For real? You don’t seem like the type to enjoy sappy books.”

Thalia fell back onto the bed and sighed. After a second, she replied, “John Green is an artist.”

Reyna fell back next to her. “I know, right? What’s your favorite book of his?”

“Looking for Alaska. It’s brutally honest and I love it. What about you?”

“The Fault in Our Stars. It’s the only one with even a remotely happy ending, although I haven’t read An Abundance of Katherines.”

Thalia snorted and said, “Oh, that one’s funny.”

“I guess I’ll put it on my list, then.”

They lay there in silence for a while.

♥ ♥ ♥

When the day of the party rolled around, Reyna was oozing stress through every pore of her body. Thalia was trying to calm her down with her already completed charts, lists, and a self-written note reminding her that she is amazing and can do anything she sets her mind to. Reyna nodded her head and started to calm down.

Thalia grinned and said, “You know who you remind me of?”

Reyna, furrowing her (perfect, Thalia noted) eyebrows, replied, “What? Oh. No, who?”

“Leslie Knope.”

“Who is that?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“What?”

“You’ve never seen Parks and Rec?”

Reyna shook her head.

“Well, man, you’re missing out big time. She’s this kick-ass lady that’s the Deputy Director of the Parks and Recreation Department of Pawnee, Indiana. Then she does this thing and becomes another thing, but that’s a spoiler so I won’t tell you, and we’re going to watch all of season one tonight.”

Reyna was smiling and she asked, “And exactly how do I remind you of her?”

“Oh! I guess I forgot to mention that part. She always has these binders and she’s super organized, and she decides everything with a pros and cons list. Also she’s hot.”

Reyna laughed, “That’s sweet, I guess…”

Then, with the full force of a hurricane, the kids came busting out of the cabins and into the commons. The tables had already been set up with coolers containing water balloons of all shapes and sizes. The kids reached in, digging their little hands around as many balloons as they could. They didn’t get far, though, before Reyna blew her whistle. The kids froze.

“Okay guys! Thalia’s going to read out the lists, accurately this time,” she said, shooting Thalia her meanest glare, “and then we’ll get started. She handed Thalia the clipboard.

As Thalia walked up to grab it, she said under her breath, “You know, I’ll never read the lists accurately.”

Reyna shrugged.

She was okay with it this time.

♥ ♥ ♥

That night, when the girls were binge watching Parks and Rec in the cabin, Reyna had to interject.

“Okay, so why is Leslie so hung up on Mark? It was, like, one hookup 6 years prior or something.”

Thalia laughed and nodded. “Yeah. It’s just a really hardcore crush I guess.”

“Also, Ann and Mark? Is this going to happen? Like, for real?”

Thalia just shrugged with a glint in her eyes, like she knew something but didn’t want to tell.

Of course, she knows, Reyna thought. She’s watched this show through, like, 10 times.

“Also, earlier you said Leslie was hot? Okay, she may be cute, but she’s definitely not hot,” Reyna added.

“No, yeah, she’s not that hot, I was just trying to hit on you by saying you’re hot.”

Reyna felt herself blushing under the backlight of the laptop. She turned her face to see Thalia, and her lips were met with another pair. The laptop fell off the bed with a dull thump, and Thalia was on top of Reyna, kissing her like there was no tomorrow. Reyna pulled away to take a breath and smiled. The rest of this summer was going to be good.

[salmagundimagazine]

DOWNTON ABBEY: ANGLOPHILIA IS EMBARRASSING by Katherine Fusco

from Salmagundi, Summer 2017 [The TV Issue]

A little past the show’s midway point, I began having the same conversation with all my friends about Downton Abbey.

“Are you still watching it?”

“Ugh. No, we got stuck in the rape plot.”

Finishing the show’s final seasons required a committed fortitude.

Sitting next to my husband on the couch, I reached for some popcorn.

“Are we still in the rape plot?”

“Mmm, I think it’s a murder plot now,” he corrected me.

The good maid Anna’s rape and its half-lives ended the show’s appeal for many.

It’s not that we’re so opposed to watching brutality on a weeknight. I’ve eaten many a taco salad while watching the women of Game of Thrones bent over the furniture; I’ve seen men shivved while coaxing the baby to nurse; and once, we watched a body dissolved in a bathtub while drinking boxed wine.

We watchers of quality television, we can stomach a rape.

And yet, Anna’s rape and the show’s many returns to the event throughout the later seasons elicit something ugly: “Why can’t they drop that?” “I’m so sick of the rape plot.”

The most justifiable version of our aversion to the rape is that we see the creators of Downton, along with the producers of the other, more violent television we consume, treating rape as a mere plot device.

And yet, I suspect it’s something else. My hunch is that Anna’s rape by a rakish footman felt like a betrayal to American viewers who had grown accustomed to the show’s other pleasures. Sometimes despite ourselves.

Ten or twenty years ago, I would not have watched Downton Abbey. I would have distanced myself from those who did.

On a recent visit to a grad school friend, I caught a flicker of that old feeling. She’d gotten herself on a mailing list that must have been taken from PBS or NPR donors, or the multitude of New Yorker subscribers, with issues perilously towered between toilet and sink. Maybe the targets were literature teachers like us.

The catalog sold Far Side “School for the Gifted” sweatshirts alongside mugs with the phrase “She who must be obeyed” lettering their shiny bellies. The kind of tchotchkes you might buy for your AB/Fab-watching mother for Christmas when you are a teenager and you don’t care to know anything very specific about your parents’ wants and desires. Have a Starry Nights umbrella; have a magnet of The David in a Hawaiian shirt.

My friend and I, too old, responsible, and inclined to acid reflux to drink and smoke as we did in school, lie on her living room floor, eating takeout, sipping beer, and playing a game wherein we have to pick one item from each of the catalogue’s embarrassing pages that we would be willing to own. Not surprisingly, amidst products both smugly literate and earnestly aspirational, a large Downton Abbey spread features a large cornucopia of goods we agree are the worst: lace-edged nightgowns, plated mirrors and hairbrushes, imitation jewelry, and DVD box sets detailing life in manor houses. “These are so horrible,” we whisper, “they aren’t even funny.”

The consumer of these Downton baubles, the glittering imitation brooches—she is everything I tried not to be as a young woman. When you are a girl and a bookworm, choices can feel limited.

Indeed, I still feel the limited possibilities for female identification whenever I watch a television show on which more than one woman appears. On the one hand, shows that pass the Bechdel test by presenting women with interests — as opposed to the singular “hot girl” amongst the boys — seem admirable, but I still feel the pressure of the typological when presented with a range of women: Are you a Carrie or a Samantha, a Marnie or a Shoshanna, a Lady Mary or, God forbid, a Lady Edith?

As a bookish girl, seeking others like me—readers of a serious sort—I was dismayed by the stereotype that came into focus: She loved kittens, wore dowdy pastels, ran to the mousy, would never be cool, never seem sexy or edgy. She was the girl who thought it would be fun to go to high tea. In my mind, there was one source and one icon to blame for the image of the female reader that so haunted me: England, and Jane Austen’s England in particular.

I became a student of American literature; like my country, I was too young and without enough of a sense of history to have paid much attention to either the cool or the ugly roughness that both had deep roots in England, or the pervasive and embarrassing middle-classness that was part of being an American. Instead, England remained to me the dreamland of girls who would never date.

My problem with England was a part of the sexually-anxious narcissism that accompanied my teens and twenties, so desperate was I to roll with the boys, to drink with the boys, and, once a literature major, to read with the boys: whether Palahniuk’s Fight Club, which was inspiring theme nights at the alternative frat—all whisky, Marlboro reds, and sloppy, scrambling boxing—, the strange macho sexuality of Miller’s Tropic of Cancer, or David Foster Wallace’s threatening challenge to all my would-be novelist friends. I remember people whispering intensely about Burroughs. Recently, novelist Claire Vaye Watkins has written about pandering to male writers through the tough, heartless, and heartbreaking prose of her short story collection. I see this period of my reading similarly, going shot-for-shot with the boys. But I wanted to be cool. American, edgy and cool.

This American cool continues, I think, in our recent prestige television, which offers bad boys you want to root for, the likes of Tony Soprano, Don Draper, and Walter White.

I still sometimes visit with American bad boys; I write about and teach the cruel works of Nathanael West, Fitzgerald’s more cynical friend. But as I’ve aged, I find that I have less patience for them. They can be a fling, but not my constant companions. Especially when the little things of my life seem hard and the big things of the world seem even harder, I want to return again to the coziness that was my youthful idea of England. And maybe this is true of the millions of other Americans who turned off HBO and tuned in to public television; after trying so hard to be crass and edgy, perhaps we do want to be that kind of girl after all.

What is it that we Americans want from the English? We want them to be vaguely like us, but better: we see them as politer and fancier, but we also like to think we’re more democratic, not so snotty. We also want not to have to know too much about the differences. Tea and knights, yes. Elaborate details about entailment, no, as the differences between the PBS and BBC explanations of the family’s wealth indicate.

We Americans see England as fundamentally belonging to the past, and thus soft and rosy. When my husband’s friend from London visited us in Nashville, the debutants were no match for him, so taken were they by his accent. The cost for him came in the form of bewildering conversations about jousting and whether “y’all have gyms there” and the terrible imitations into which the women slipped when the bourbon was flowing.

My sister’s English accent is also bad, somewhere between Foghorn Leghorn and Eliza Doolittle. It is also identical to the accent she tried when I moved to Nashville. I remember an early phone call home during which she filled me in on the day’s business. She’d been out shopping: “I went to Target; wait, do you have Target there?” Her view of the South is not unlike the debutant’s view of England, a place distant spatially and perhaps temporally as well. My current students in Mountain West feel similarly; they explain to me that they could never go to the South because they are Mexican. Meanwhile, my Anglo students refer to the rapidly gentrifying Hispanic neighborhood in town as “sketchy,” “the ghetto.”

My sister’s bad accent isn’t unique. We all have them. In a theater class at my arts magnet high school we memorized a little poem to practice the two relevant English accents: high-class and Cockney.  A room of fifteen-year-olds, we chanted together, “If to hoot and to toot a Hottentot tot were taught by a Hottentot tutor, should the tutor get hot if the Hottentot tot should hoot and toot at the tutor?”

Not high-class, working-class, or English, we middle-class white American children—progeny of good liberal parents committed to public school education, if not neighborhood schools—happily swallowed our “Hs” and gulped out the bit of nonsense, so far from our knowing as to be scrubbed clean of racism’s taint. With our sense of Englishness as accent, and feelings of Africa and Europe as far in time and space, the little rhyme seemed to have nothing to do with our sense of racism as a real and pressing American problem.  

The vagueness of Anglophilia is, I think, at least part of why the series’ second half felt like such a betrayal. Belonging too much to the world of problems Americans consider “the real,” the rape of Anna left a bitter taste that lingered, curdling our feelings about the series.

With the exception of that troublesome rape, Downton has offered the coziness that is the American idea of Englishness, the one I once rejected but now seek. As a new mother, I gaze longingly at the teas in the library during which the nanny parades by babies in sailor suits and then sweeps them neatly away, leaving their parents to drink and chat. My Anglophilia, you see, is not just about class as well as cozyness—the upper-class comfort and self-assuredness towards which we in the American middle class doggedly strain.

My embarrassment at retaining an idiot Anglophilia is somewhat assuaged by the knowledge that my American ancestors have been similarly foolish and aspirational in their views. In her book Anglophilia: Deference, Devotion, and Antebellum America, scholar Eliza Tamarkin reminds us that even way back when, in what my students would call the olden days, “Anglophilia [was] about paying respects to the symbolic value of England.” Among the more bizarre aspects of antebellum Anglophilia was the abolitionist argument that the English had done away with slavery because it didn’t fit with their overwhelming politeness. Owning people simply wasn’t seemly.

Politeness and impropriety are similarly behavioral big tents in Downton, covering all manner of progressive and regressive attitudes. Rapes, murders, blackmailing, and defections aside, on Downton, breaking with good manners is the clearest marker that a character is a baddie.

In the fifth season alone impoliteness covers, among other social failings, class snobbery (the aristocratic Merton boys), a genocidal rising power (Herr Hitler and his brown shirts, who will be revealed as the killers of Edith’s Michael, described in the show as beer hall unruliness), strident socialism (Miss Bunting), being a grouchy sad sack (Princess Kuragin), abuse of servants (Lord Sinderby), and anti-Semitism (Lady Flintshire, the Mertons again—naughty boys, those). Interestingly, the Dowager’s old flame Prince Kuragin also appears guilty of anti-Semitism and proximity to the genocidal murder of the pogroms when he bursts out at cousin Rose’s Jewish love interest, “you’re no Russian;” however, the show doesn’t present the outburst as something to hold against the man, perhaps because the transgression occurs in a soup kitchen, rather than a drawing room or library.

To be a hero, then, is to make others feel comfortable, to ease their embarrassment and smooth the way. A phrase I’ve learned to love from the show, “shall we go through?,” often comes from the wonderful Cora, the American matriarch committed to living lightly and lovingly, for whom guiding family and guests politely from potentially awkward conversation to pleasantly formal dining and drinking appears a life’s work.

“Shall we go through?” The show goes through with amazing rapidity, throwing forward plot twist after plot twist, the bulk of which are resolved neatly by banishing a rude interloper from the great house, or easing over unpleasantness, as when Cousin Rose pretends that her father-in-law’s mistress is an old friend, thus explaining away the uninvited guest. When the housekeeper Mrs. Hughes confesses to Mr. Carson that she has no money to retire with him because she’s been paying for her mentally disabled sister’s institutionalization, she worries, “Oh no, now I’ve embarrassed you.”

Coming from a nation with only loosely codified manners—which we occasionally boast of and are only occasionally shamed by—I find myself fascinated by a world in which all errors, all crises, all sins might be so beautifully papered over. Or, to put it otherwise, I long for a world in which I’ve been taught to behave beautifully and this beautiful behavior means that I am good.

This, too, as our own new rich fill TV screens: whether real housewives, basketball WAGs, or Kardashians, the idea of England as cozy past when people were polite stands as contrast. As does Kate Middleton, whose big shiny teeth and big shiny hair and tiny formal hats and tiny, tidy pregnancies make her a simulacrum of a princess.  So too, The Great British Baking Show, which introduced Americans to a world of reality television in which no one declares “I’m not here to make friends” and the pastries are inscrutable. “Pudding,” “biscuit,” and “pie” take on strange new meanings.

The Anglophile’s imaginary England is a kind of mirror world. Like a grandfather—a relative in whom we see resemblance, but who clearly hails from another time. We feel affectionate toward him and maybe a little superior. Watching Downton, it’s lovely to see a plot in which the patriarch gets drunk, and rather than starting a brawl or bedding a scullery maid, he begins an awkward toast—a potential embarrassment that quick-witted chauffeur-turned-son-in-law Tom covers over by leading the household in rounds of “for he’s a jolly good fellow.” And the “good” characters’ foibles are so soft that it’s easy to feel a little wiser than those Granthams while also envying their outdated lifestyle.

A different program might show the wealthier classes’ predation upon the poor, but the violence within Downton Abbey remains reassuringly within class. And though we all hate the rape plot, what a relief that the storyline remains snugly downstairs. It allows the show’s commitment to the idea of noblesse oblige to remain an inviting temptation, leading to imaginings of how lovely we might behave if only we had a bit of nobility to be obliging with. Like Lady Sybil taking the red-haired maid under her wing. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a maid? Of course, one must not imagine being the maid.

With so much expansive politeness and correctness forming our idea of the English—“Keep Calm and Carry On!”—it’s surprising to hear missives from the real Britain, the one that exists in the now with us. The interviews during the Brexit vote give a nasty shock, as even good old England takes its place in a Europe increasingly Islamophobic and nativist. Grandfather has done worse than slip up and use the out of date “colored”—he’s said something truly awful and not cozy at all.  

This is not how we like to think of our grandfathers. It’s not why we Americans turn our faces to gaze across the Atlantic. Instead, we wish to see the slightly fusty but well-meaning and well-mannered behavior of the Dowager Countess and Lord Grantham. Though they miss the old days (the first season features the Dowager cringing away from electric light), they are adaptable. Lord Grantham admits the nature of warfare has changed and nods to the feelings of his cook Mrs. Patmore, making a special monument off the beaten track for her nephew who was executed for defecting during the war.

I recently watched a bit of Manor House, a reality show in which modern people are cast as members of a grand Edwardian home. Some become the Lords and Ladies of the house; the tall and good-looking young man becomes First Footman, and the unlucky become scullery maids. The effects of a rigid upstairs-downstairs class system set in with breathtaking speed. After the initial meeting between the family and the staff, one of the maids confesses to the camera that though she knows her master and mistress are just normal twenty-first century people like herself, she hates them. In contrast, the mistress relates how lovely it is to be cared for; “it’s almost like I’ve slipped into childhood again,” she coos.

Such animosity between staff and family receives little screen time on Downton. Generally, class resentment is nothing but a misunderstanding, as when kitchen maid Daisy, who has been educated just to the point of dissatisfaction, misinterprets the characteristically vague kindness of Lady Grantham and tries to force a position for her tenant farmer father-in-law on the estate.  

Instead, class hostility appears in the mouths of malefactors such as ladies’ maid O’Brien, a villain marked by truly terrible hair, or the blackmailing hotel maid who threatens Lady Mary and Lord Grantham with the prediction that her kind are coming up in the world. These instances of class outrage both come from maids and are directed at the eldest daughter Lady Mary for her sexual peccadillos, whether the ill-fated night with the exotic Mr. Pamook of the weak heart or her trial marriage hotel weekend with Tony Gillingham. Meantime, the matter of hygiene in manor houses’ downstairs extend to moral uprightness, to which the series nods, occasionally emphasizing the separate men’s and women’s quarters, but not to the near-prurient degree with which the sexual activity of maids would have been scrutinized, with the housekeeper examining their sanitary belts for evidence that the staff was staying chaste and not getting in the family way.

What comfort, then, in Downton’s somewhat relaxed morality. “We’re all becoming so modern!,” is a constant refrain. Lord Grantham, bless his ulcerous Lordship—what won’t he accept under the name of being a good host?  He oversees one daughter’s marriage to a chauffeur, one daughter’s love child entering the household, and one daughter’s blackmail for her sexual intrepidness---not to mention his gay footman and multiply–murder-accused valet Mr. Bates.  Downton is what Americans want from their betters, it’s what we see in the photographs of celebrities shopping at Trader Joes, playing on the beach with their children—Stars! They’re Just Like Us!! They are better looking, go on better vacations, and rich, but they use detergent!!! With Downton, we peek in on the nobility and see they make mistakes! Like us!

And I must admit, the more tired I am; the more panicked I feel as I forget to put sunscreen on the baby or to provide the daycare enough steamed finger foods diced into ¼ inch pieces; the more I long for time to work rather than time to spend with my husband and child; or the more I wish to spend time at home and quit my job, filled as it is with student emails and meetings; the more, stupidly and against what I know, I hunger for Downton.

The light touch of the series which makes it all come out right in the end—the deaths, the war, the murders, and yes, even the rape—it’s a warm blanket that feels wholesome even when that niggling voice reminds me of its near offensive flimsiness. It’s best not to think too seriously about the show. One is bound to have an unpleasant realization, like learning that eating bran muffins is just having unfrosted cupcakes for breakfast.  

I recently heard the women of Another Round explain that only white people enjoy the “what past decade would you have rather lived in?” hypothetical. I get what they’re saying—and this is also Downton’s frivolous genius. Polite, like the Abbey’s denizens, the show doesn’t remind us of the footmen’s and maids’ more unpleasant tasks—the emptying of chamber pots, the pulling threads of hair from brushes to build elaborate false pieces—or that a hallboy gets his name because he has no room, and in fact sleeps in the hall. We don’t miss this granular detail because it’s not Daisy or Mrs. Patmore, or even good Anna, with whom the show means us to feel a likeness. We who play the game of transporting ourselves backwards through time don’t make that journey to light the morning fires for the big house or to do other people’s dishes. No, as we traverse the decades, running them backward, it’s the three lovely sisters we imagine as our kin and precursors.

Now I am mistress of my own house. (Lord Grantham, I too have a sweet old dog and I am sorry about Isis.) And I am, though I am loathe to write the phrase, its debunking as much a cliché now as its invocation, “having it all.” And my response to middle class life, motherhood, work, homeownership, marriage, is a low level panic I feel running up my spine, a fit on the verge of spilling out that is my constant companion, babyish and humiliating: But who is going to take care of meee?

And so, like many others of the American middle class, I fantasize about Downton. Together, America and I are over being cool and uncomfortable. We want to be cozy and rich. We want to turn on our TVs, gaze upon all that polished brass, and not think too hard about who is doing the polishing.