#and cameron would have the best time in libraries everywhere

[lucifer-spawn]

thinking about space ship crew au poets

[notanotherockstar]

 ‘The Whole World Is a Stage’

(Headcannons of dating Neil Perry)

Warnings: slight smut ig, dps spoilers, Knox Overstreet’s endless pursuit of Chris Noel, Neil being absolutely adorable.

You met Neil when he came to audition for the part of ‘Puck’ in a Midsummer Nights Dream.

You had joined the production to help with the sets, props, costumes, etc. and were just about to leave when you see him recite his lines for the audition.

To say that you were instantly enamoured would be putting it lightly.

You introduce yourself to Neil just as he’s about to leave and compliment him on his acting skills.

And the boy is a stuttering fool when you do so because, going to an all boys school and having incredibly strict parents, he’s not used to interacting with girls let alone having very pretty girls come up to him and tell him that his acting is good.

He thanks you but tells you that he isn’t sure if he’ll get the part since it’s his first time acting professionally— unless the silly little plays he used to put up for his parents in his living room when he was a child count.

You laugh at first, thinking he’s joking.

But then you notice the ‘shit did I say something wrong’ expression on his face and you understand that he is not only very serious but also very nervous.

So, you assure him, telling him that, “I was there for all the auditions and yours was by far the best. They would have to be idiots to not cast you.”

Neil is blushing like crazy at the compliment.

He’s blushing even harder when you ask him if he wants to grab a cup of coffee or something from the diner nearby.

He wants to say yes but then remembers that he needs to be back at Welton before dinner so that no one realises that he’s been gone.

“It’s alright,” you tell him, “I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other— I’m working on the set and all of that stuff.”

This marks the beginning of a short yet lovely relationship.

You’re the first one he comes to when he finds out he’s got the part of Puck.

That’s when you two go out on your first date.

It’s nothing much just the two of you and a little picnic by the river with food you stole from your kitchen.

You two stay there still twilight when Neil realises that he needs to head back to school.

Neil helps you clean up because he’s a gentleman.

Just before he can leave you pull him into a kiss that leaves Neil weak in his knees and his cheeks brining red.

“See you tomorrow then?” You ask.

“Y-yeah, yeah.” He stutters and nodds making you giggle.

When he reaches Welton he’s completely lovesick.

The rest of the dead poets boys groan because having to deal with a lovesick Knox was bad enough but now they had to deal with a lovesick Neil too.

He tells them all about you.

He talks about you so much it’s kinda annoying.

Todd has to cover his ears with his pillow in the night for two reasons:

To block out Neil’s chatter about you before they can go to sleep, and;

To block out Neil’s moaning in the middle of the night that wakes him up no matter how deep his sleep is.

Needless to say that after all the talk the boys are very eager to meet you.

But Neil doesn’t want to introduce you to the boys, mostly because he’s afraid you’ll end up preferring Charlie or Knox over him.

So he refuses to bring you along to any of the Dead Poets Society meetings, no matter how much they insist.

Sick and tired of all the secrecy one day the boys decide sneak out to Henly Hall while Neil was at rehearsals.

They ask around backstage till they’re directed to you where you were painting a backdrop.

They introduce themselves as Neil’s friends and you surprise them by very accurately guessing who’s who since Neil had told you a lot about them too.

You and the boys hit it off right away.

Joking around with Charlie, Meeks and Pitts.

Discussing literature and art with Todd.

Discussing your friend, Chris with Knox which ends up with the you agreeing to become his wingman and talk him up to Chris since you’re not a fan of her current boyfriend.

Cameron isn’t there because he’s afraid he’ll get into trouble if the teachers find out they snuck out— not that anyone minds.

When Neil visits you after rehearsal he feel like he’s going to faint at the sight of you, Charlie, Todd, Knox, Pitts and Meeks covered in paint and laughing your asses off.

You immediately run over to Neil and kiss him, trying your hardest not to get paint all over his clothes before scolding him to not introducing you to his friends earlier.

There’s a very awkward chuckle from Neil which is followed by, “I was just waiting for the right moment.”

Charlie is stopped from making a sex joke by Knox placing his hand over the boys mouth.

That is followed by the boys informing Neil that you’ll be attending the next Dead Poets Society meeting.

Neil is speechless— on one hand he’s happy that you’re getting along so well with his closest friends, but on the other hand he wishes he had more time with you to himself before you could meet them.

Anyways, a few nights later, Neil shows up at your house around midnight and takes you to the cave where the Poets meet.

You’re excited to see them all, of course, especially Todd because he’s adorable and just needs to be hugged.

Neil starts the meeting by reciting Thoreau. 

True to mr. Keating’s words you do very much swoon as you watch him recite the verse. 

Joking around with the Dead Poets as you all take turns to recite poetry from the book Keating gave Neil. 

Flirting endlessly with Charlie throughout the night.

Cue jealous Neil.

And you don’t even notice.

You’re too busy giggling as Charlie as he plays endless melodies on his saxophone. 

Now, I kinda imagine Neil as getting all upset when he gets jealous

Because, let’s be honest, with parents like his own there is absolutely no way he doesn’t have self esteem issues. 

So, anyways, you’re babbling on about how great the night was when you notice Neil kinda looking at the floor like a puppy who has been kicked. 

You ask him whats wrong but he shrugs it off, requesting you to go on about your time with the rest of the Dead Poets.

You don’t back off however, insisting that Neil tells you what’s bothering you.

So, he spills the beans.

He’s surprised to find you laughing once he’s done. 

“Neil, Charlie’s fun but we’re only friends,” you tell him when he asks you why you’re laughing. “I love you. And only you. Besides, I’m pretty sure I cannot be around Charlie for more than an hour without throwing up- he wears way too much cologne for his own good.” 

Soon Neil’s laughing too.

The two of you are just laughing and giggling and messing around with each other till you reach your house. 

You two stare at each other for a few seconds- neither of you actually wanting this night to end.

So you invite Neil inside. 

“Aren’t your parents asleep?” Neil asks, completely oblivious to your ulterior motives. 

“Yup.” 

It takes Neil a few seconds but once he does you’re dragging him inside for, in the words of one brilliant miss Amy Santiago, “a cray-cray night of funky fun.”

Neil’s gone when you wake up the next morning leaving behind nothing except the smell of his cologne and a note telling you that he loves you too and that he’ll see you in the evening for rehearsal. 

It’s pure bliss from there on.

Sneaking kisses before he has to go on stage.

Picnic dates.

Movie and museum dates.

Library dates.

Sex every free moment you two got.

And by the time the day of the performance came around everyone knew about Neil and you.

Most of them *cough cough* your parents *cough cough* thought you were adorable.

The others *cough cough* the director, the cast and crew of the play *cough cough* just wished the two of you would stop making out and being all lovey dovey everywhere.

You give Neil a good luck kiss on the lips before he could go out on stage and promise that you will watch from the wings.

And you do. You watch and you cheer louder than the Dead Poets in the audience.

You leap into Neil’s arms once the play is finished, kissing him all over his face while he giggles.

“You were so good,” you tell him. “You were so, so good!”

“I was, wasn’t I?” Neil asked with a wide grin spread across his face. “I was really, really good!”

You’re about to say something when a teacher comes up to Neil and tells him that his father is looking for him.

“Everything okay?” You ask him as you watch his expression fall at the mention of his father.

“Yeah,” he nods and places his hand on yours before pushing it off his cheek. Neil bent forward and placed one last, soft kiss against your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sure,” you tell him and watch him walk away.

You stand completely still for a few minutes before deciding to follow Neil.

You walk out of the theatre just in time to see Neil being forced into a car by a man you presumed to be his father and the car then drive away into the darkness.

You ask Charlie what just happened with Neil but he seems to be more or less as clueless as you are.

So, you end up going back home, the worst thoughts about what could have happened to Neil popping into your head when you try to go to sleep.

Then the next day, just when you’re about to leave for school your mother tells you that there’s a call for you.

You immediately rush over hoping it’s Neil.

Thankfully, it is.

He tells you that he his father pulled him out of Welton and enrolled him into military school.

You’re crying, of course, weeping happy tears because you’re just so happy that’s he’s well and alright.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack you know that?” You tell him amidst tears as you run your hand through your (y/h/c) locks.

“(Y/N) I—“ Neil’s cut off by the sound of his father yelling in the background. “I’ll call you back later.”

“You better,” you sniffle and wipe your tears against the sleeve of your shirt. “Neil?”

“(Y/N)?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[collecting-stories]

A Year Later - ep. 07 - JJ Maybank

A/N: I wanted to do an epilogue of sorts for The S’week and @d-reamingoutloud suggested looking into their lives a year after the story so that’s what I decided to do. Basically this is kind of where the reader’s relationship with them all is at. 

The S’week Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

John B. Routledge - 

John B’s Hand slipped out of yours, both of you forming a fist to side bump in a variation of the secret pogue handshake that you’d somehow come to adopt as your own in the last year. You were standing on the edge of the jetty, cooler in your other hand. 

“You ready to go?” John B asked, taking the cooler from you and setting it down below the seat before he held his hand out for you to climb aboard. It was early enough in the morning that it was still dark outside but the light on the boat cast a glow across the marsh, a rather calming effect on you as you prepared to spend the morning fishing with John B. An odd sort of tradition that had come about last year and had just stuck. A time and place that neither of you had to worry about other obligations or other people’s opinions of your friendship.  

“Yeah. New boat?” You asked, taking a look at the boat as you stepped on. John B stepped back to give you some room, nodding his head. 

“Got it last month, finally saved enough between rent and bills.” He replied, “being an adult sucks.”

“I hardly think 19 qualifies as being an adult.” You laughed, taking a seat as he pulled away from the jetty. It was still cold out for now, one of JJ’s hoodies keeping you warm as the light rush of air chilled your bare legs.  

“It does when I’ve got bills to fucking pay.” John B replied.  

“Touché.” You glanced back at him, “I thought you were doing the Winnebago thing with Kie? Surfing all the coasts or something?” 

Kiara was leaving at the end of the week to spend the summer in a Winnebago with a few friends from college. The last you had heard about the trip John B was tagging along too, eager, apparently, to get out of the obx. But here he was, spending his money on a new boat and seemingly unprepared to leave the island.  

“Nah, I thought about it but...I don’t know. She’s talking about it being a fresh start and how I’m in a slump but I know if I go with her-”  

You nodded, “not exactly a fresh start if you’re just tagging along with Kie wherever she goes.”  

You loved Kiara but you knew that she had a constant want to fix her friends problems, always the mom of the group in a way it killed her that things had never gone back to normal after the s’week debacle. The Week that Must Not Be Named, according to JJ.  

“Yeah, and listening to her try and fix things between everyone. I love her to death but the ‘we should put aside our differences’ spiel has yet to work on any of us.” John B replied, “except maybe you and Sarah.” 

“Me and Sarah are in it for life, she’s my like platonic soulmate best friend. I’d have to cut a part of myself out to not be friends with her anymore.” You admitted. Sarah could stab you in the back, and figuratively she had, and you would still be rooting for her in the end. You loved JJ and you cared about John B but Sarah was your ride or die.  

“That’s really touching.”  

“Oh shut up,” You laughed, tossing a flip-flop at him. “I love you too John B.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I was gonna say, I’ll take you up on your offer...if it still stands?” 

You’d came home almost every weekend because of your schedule but it was during spring break, on a day when JJ had work and you had gone over to the Chateau to hang out with John B, that you had mentioned your family’s vacation home in Hawaii. You usually went around Christmas and had that year, taking JJ with you for his first plane ride ever (which had been hilarious in itself). John B had mentioned wanting to get away from the obx and you suggested your family’s vacation home, free to him if he wanted to move out there for a little while.  

“Yeah of course, whatever you need.” 

“A serious change of scenery.” John B replied. The Outer Banks had always been his home but it was feeling more and more like a prison the longer he stayed there. Especially when he felt like he was running into JJ everywhere he went.  

“I’m guessing, if you’re aversion to Kie is that strong, you and JJ still aren’t talking?” You asked. It was an unspoken agreement between you and JJ that you never talked about his former best friend.  

“I got nothing to say to him.” He shrugged, “I’ve tried, I swear...it’s just, every time I see him I think about it and I feel like I wanna drown him in the ocean.” 

“I guess you won’t be coming to the boneyard on Friday then?” 

“Nah. I’ve got you and Kie and I don’t really wanna see anyone else. I’ve tried hanging out with other people we just don’t vibe ya know? I miss feeling like I had that group...I’m not gonna have that feeling here anymore.”  

“Hey I get that. When Rafe and I broke up I lost a lot of friends I thought I had.” You replied, “people can’t help feeling loyal to certain people.” 

“Maybe.” John B shrugged; it didn’t matter. Or he was trying to accept that he couldn’t change it. “But you’re here on the boat with me and we get along fine. You don’t try and bullshit me about JJ or tell me we should all be best friends again.” 

“It’s not my place. Besides, JJ and I have come to the agreement that we don’t talk about it.” You replied. It kept you both happy.

“Well it’s shit when you and Kie are in school cause then it’s just me and JJ on the cut.” John B admitted. He hadn’t complained too much about it during the school year but you knew that was just for your benefit. “What about you? I know you guys are cool but how is rooming with Sarah?”

“It’s good, feels like old times again ya know...JJ doesn’t come around, but...it what it is.” You shrugged.  

✰ ✰

Sarah Cameron -  

“I’m going to fail all my classes.” Sarah groaned, resting her chin on her forearms. She’d pushed her books away from her, forcing you to pick up your coffee when her textbooks threatened to knock it over.  

Finals were in a week and both of you had been studying like crazy, meeting up in the dorm or in the library for cram sessions between classes. Sarah was already planning on going to Nassau the first week of summer vacation with Topper and some college friends. Even if nobody actually knew what happened last summer it still felt different being in the Outer Banks now.  

“You are not, you’re literally one of the smartest people I know.” You replied, attempting to be encouraging as you texted Kiara about Pope’s birthday party coming up. Your books mirrored Sarah’s but you were taking a supposed break from studying for the five minutes your timer allotted.  

“But not the smartest?” She asked, lifting her head and narrowing her eyes at you. She grabbed her own cup of coffee off the table and took a sip as she looked over the books again. Nothing had changed.  

“I mean, I know Topper so...”  

“Oh my god, shut up, I just fucking spit out my coffee.” Sarah laughed, covering her mouth with her hand and reached for a napkin. “For real though, why couldn’t my dad have pulled a Lori Laughlin and like, paid off my college?”

You slipped your phone back on the table face down, clicking the side when it rang and pulling one of your books closer to distract you from it. “Because then he would’ve gotten caught and you would’ve been kicked out and probably blacklisted and everyone would be like ‘that girl is so dumb her dad paid off the college to pass her.’ And you’d have to move in with me and work retail.” 

“Stop it. What a fucking nightmare.” 

“The living with me or the working retail?” You asked, laughing at the annoyed face she made.  

“I’m gonna hire a new best friend who’s just like ‘yeah Sarah you’re so smart’, ‘your dad should pay for you to ace tests, you don’t need college’ and whatever other shit I pay them for.” She replied.  

“You could pay me, I’ll be your yes man.” You offered, silencing your phone when it rang again.  

“Who’s calling you?” Sarah asked, her attention drawn away from studying and Lori Laughlin to the phone that rang for a third time.  

“What?” You looked up, “no one.” You’d told JJ that you would call him when you were finished studying and that you were busy but that didn’t stop the incessant calling once he decided he felt like talking to you. Normally you wouldn’t care but you did your best to separate JJ from your life at school because Sarah was here and you didn’t feel like it was fair to flaunt that in front of her, even if it was accidental.  

“Seriously, I can see you clicking off your phone every couple minutes.” She replied, “Is it JJ?”

“Uh-” You bit your lip as you looked over at the offending electronic. It was no use pretending like he wasn’t the person on the other end of the call. You’d gone two semesters and a spring break without incident, surely, she wouldn’t care if you took one phone call. But you still felt guilty, you weren’t sure if that would ever go away. “It’s no big deal, I can talk to him later.”

“I’m fine!” Sarah insisted, “seriously I’ve got like a real date on Friday.” 

“I just wanna call him back real quick.” You replied, “I think it’s about going home for the weekend.”

“For Pope’s birthday?”  

“Yeah.” You’d been staying on campus with finals so close but it you knew Pope was going to be home for the weekend for his birthday and Kiara would be there and you didn’t want to miss spending time with them. Especially since you wouldn’t see them again until hell week was over and you were moving out of your dorm.  

“Kie mentioned it to me last week.” Sarah explained, “Are you guys doing anything special?”

“As far as I know it’s just the four of us.” You replied. John B hadn’t been hanging around either of his former friends. He still saw Kiara when she was home and you whenever you came home for the weekend, but that was sans JJ or Pope. If either of them was around than John B kept his distance.  

“Go, go. Seriously, I’m fine.” 

You pushed your chair back as your phone rang one more time, finally answering it. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

✰ ✰

JJ Maybank -

“I’ve been thinking,” JJ started to say, sitting on a chair in The Wreck with you on his lap. Before he could continue you raised an eyebrow at him, running your fingers through his hair to get him to look up at you.  

“That’s never good.”

JJ stuck his tongue out but kept talking, undeterred by your comment, “...you should drop out.” He announced.  

You laughed, knowing that JJ wasn’t serious at all. He’d been making the same suggestion to you since September. “No way in hell! Why would I do that?”

“So I don’t have to go weeks without seeing you.” He shrugged, fingers slipping beneath your shirt as he laid a kiss against your neck.  

“A more tempting offer than I expected...what’ll we do on all these weeks spent actually seeing each other?” You asked, smiling. You couldn’t help but play along whenever he asked you to leave school. It was all just for fun, if anything JJ had the most supportive person you had in your life during school.  

“I can think of a few things.” JJ replied, squeezing your side and brushing his nose against your collar and neck.  

“Oh god.” You laughed, “stop we’re in public. There are families with children here.”

“How do you think they got the kids?” He shrugged.  

“You’re a terrible person.” You replied, “come on, Kie and Pope will be here soon.” 

“You’ve been home for like an hour and you’re already dying to see our friends instead of me.” JJ whined.  

“An hour? Babe, I got in this morning...we spent the whole morning ‘unpacking’ in my room.” You pointed out. You’d taken the earliest ferry over that you could and met JJ on the docks. It didn’t matter that you’d just seen him two weeks ago or that you facetimed him every night, seeing him in person gave you the best feeling in the world. It was undeniable.  

“Okay, I know I did not come all the way here just to watch you guys mack on each other.” Kiara announced as she came over to the table.  

“Came all the way over? You fucking work here Kie.” JJ replied, rolling his eyes as you got up to give her a hug. He frowned at the loss of attention, even if he did know that going out with everyone meant not getting you all to himself.  

“I had to go pick up Pope and then drive back.” Kiara said, as if that was a viable excuse.

“I’m like five minutes away...walking.” Pope pointed out, giving you a hug before grabbing a seat next to JJ.  

“No, move.”

“I’m not moving!” Pope exclaimed, “dude, don’t push my chair.”

“He’s being a brat cause I’m apparently more excited to see you guys than I was to see him.” You replied, laughing as Pope smacked JJ’s hands away from his chair. You sat across from your boyfriend, sticking your tongue out at him.  

“You are.”

“I am not!”  

“She is.” Kiara said, grinning at you, “it’s okay I know you only date JJ so you can hang out with us.”

“Hey!”

“I know, what am I gonna do while you’re away?”

“It’s okay,” Pope said, reaching across the table and putting his hand over yours, “I’ll still be here.”

“Thank god.”

“Okay, seriously, the three of you are the worst.” Despite his words when you looked over at JJ he was smiling, eyes brighter than they’d been when you met him almost a year ago. Things weren’t perfect but they were good.  

-

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[kafka-ish]

how to be a heartbreaker | b.d.

y/n wants to get her crush to notice her but she has no idea how. luckily, beverly comes to her with some valuable advice.

word count: 2,845

warnings: fem!reader

request: (from anonymous) “hiii! could i request a fic for bill denbrough where the reader is very flirty with everyone in the losers club and bill is flustered whenever she flirts with him? i was thinking that w/n could be like the female richie just more tame haha. ty!”

a/n: i was so excited to receive this request as it was my first one !! i hope i did it justice. 

-

y/n didn’t always wear tight tops and make cheeky comments. 

That’s why Bill was so surprised when she arrived at the quarry in a skirt so short, he could the lace peeking from her underwear when she bent down, and a smart mouth almost identical to Richie’s. But Bev smirked to herself as she watched the scene unfold, remembering how y/n had come to her last weekend, asking for help. 

“Who do you like?” Beverly’s question was innocent, yet somehow it managed to make y/n’s skin crawl and her throat turn to cotton. 

“What makes you think I like anyone?” y/n’s fingers absentmindedly began to pick at the purple comforter neatly draped across the twin sized bed she was perched on. 

“Can I guess?” Beverly ignored y/n’s previous statement and eagerly began listing names. “Is it Matt from gym? Or Cameron from chemistry? If you like Cameron I can see why... That blond hair and smirk can really do things to a girl.” 

“No.” y/n laughed at her friend’s guesses; more so at how far off she was. “It’s neither of them.”

“Then who is it?” Beverly turned around in the vanity chair she was sitting in, in order to get a better read on y/n’s features. That’s when y/n knew her friend was persistent on learning her crush. 

“It’s Bill.” The words left y/n’s mouth in a whisper, but Beverly didn’t need her friend to repeat herself to pick up on what she was saying. 

“Bill Denbrough?” Bev’s voice raised an octave. “Why haven’t you made a move yet? You see him practically everyday!”

“Well, I...” y/n took a moment to readjust herself. She stretched out on Beverly’s bed; each limb reaching each corner of the mattress. She stared at the ceiling which was covered in glow in the dark sticky stars. They’d been there since Beverly was five. She had intentions of removing them, but the adhesive stuck horribly. Beverly also didn’t want to risk ruining part of the building’s architecture since her family was renting it out. And if she did, her dad would do more things than just yell at her. 

“You what?” 

“How am I supposed to make a move?” y/n groaned. Beverly could tell this was something that upset her. “I freak out whenever I’m left alone with him. Hell, even when I’m just sitting next to him. I can’t find the right words to say... Or any words for that matter.”

“You and Bill have that in common,” Beverly said. It was a cheap shot at Bill’s stutter. But she should’ve known y/n was above laughing at something her crush couldn’t control. “Why don’t you just feign confidence?” Beverly’s helpful for once suggestion became of interest to y/n. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Richie does it all the time.” y/n heard a snort coming from the other side of the room. “Just... You know, pretend.” 

“How am I supposed to conjure up some alter ego if I can’t even conjure up some simple hello.” Of course y/n was a skeptic to the idea. But it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?

“That’s exactly why you need to do this!” Beverly countered. She couldn’t seem to contain her excitement at the thought of playing matchmaker with her friends. “We can start with a new wardrobe.” Beverly jumped into bed with y/n and her eyes trailed down to the girl’s figure. She was silently judging her friend’s outfit and y/n didn’t know if she should feel offended or uncomfortable. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow.” 

Their shopping haul consisted of mainly crop tops, skinny jeans, and some of the shortest skirts y/n’s ever seen. Beverly picked out a blue ruffled skirt that barely covered her butt when she leaned over and a plain white crop top to match. 

“You have to wear that when we all go to the quarry!” Beverly said over the phone (it was more of an order than a friendly opinion). 

Nonetheless, she did.

y/n was the last to show up at the quarry; wanting to make a big entrance. It was big alright. She greeted every one of the boys with a kiss on the cheek and a grin wide enough to stick an orange slice in.

“It’s been so long, you guys!” Only enthusiasm could be detected from her voice. y/n sat down on a rock next to Eddie and ruffled his hair which he quickly patted down afterwards. 

“It’s only been a day,” Stan deadpanned. But who was he to burst the bubble of newfound elation coming from his usually reserved friend? 

“A day that’s been far too long!” Her eyes playfully rolled to the back of her head and she leaned forward to boop Stan on the nose. “So, are we getting in the water or what?” She stood up, allowing for a showcase of her long legs and started to strip. 

“You got that right, doll.” Richie whistled as y/n’s shirt hit the ground. Off came his shirt, too; the rest of the Losers following suit. 

y/n was the first to make a splash. She cannon-balled into the water, giving the boys a full view. A second whistle was about to reach Richie’s lips, but Bill stopped him. 

“Yo-you know, in uh-other places th-that’d be illegal.” His tongue stuck on the “L” sound in illegal for a while. 

“Good zing we arrren’t in other places.” Richie had been trying out his new “comrade” accent for the past week but no one else in the group except him was impressed. Bill, especially, was not impressed and shoved Richie into the water. “I’ll get you for this!” He yelled immediately after being able to come up for air. Though Bill couldn’t hear him. He was already already making his debut into the water. 

“Hey cutie,” y/n said, swimming up from behind him as he landed. He was taken aback at the words that had left her mouth and frankly so was she. 

“H-hi, y/n.” Goosebumps materialized on his arms, legs, and chest, and Bill didn’t know if it was because of how cold the water felt, or the recent effect y/n had on him. 

y/n giggled at the sound of her name coming from his mouth. “Be my chicken partner? You’re the only one strong enough I can think of.” She purposely avoided his gaze. In fact, she looked everywhere but at him. 

“I-if yo-you wuh-want.” Bill’s stutter had gotten notably worse and he wanted to curse himself for it. Would he seriously let almost four years of speech therapy go to waste just because of a pretty girl?

“Oh, I definitely want.” y/n’s eyes thoughtfully roamed Bill’s bare chest which he suddenly grew conscious of. Her fingers traced his collarbone and traveled down to his bicep. “I just remembered.” Her hand pulled away and she met his eyes. His blue eyes that she could get lost in for all eternity if she weren’t careful. “I need to go.” y/n didn’t honestly have to go—rather, the advice Bev had given her earlier parroted itself in her head:

Don’t be afraid to go all in. But always leave him wanting more. 

Leave him wanting more. 

y/n gave him a half smile before making her way towards the rocks. 

Bill watched as she did. The sun’s light reflected against her slicked hair in the most alluring manner. She somehow managed to make walking through water graceful. Bill’s eyes stuck to her figure until it disappeared. His trance soon broken by the sound of Eddie’s cries and the feeling of cold water dousing his back. 

“You were great today!” y/n smiled at Beverly’s voice from over the phone. She was sitting on her bed. One hand was holding the phone to her ear while the other was twirling a finger around the cord connecting the receiver piece to the landline. 

“You really think so?” A new feeling had begun to rise in her chest. Cockiness? Pride? Accomplishment? Whatever it was, it felt good. 

“Well, Bill couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you, could he?” And y/n didn’t have to see Beverly’s face to know she was raising her eyebrows because the tone of her voice already gave it away. 

“I guess not..” 

“Why don’t we all meet for dinner tomorrow?” Bev suggested. It wasn’t really a suggestion, though. It was more like an ‘I’m-telling-you-this-now-and-I’ll-tell-the-losers-after-we’re-done-talking’ sort of thing. 

“Sure,” y/n agreed, because she knew it was useless to try and stop Beverly—she was too far ahead of herself.

“Great!” The busy tone then rung in y/n’s ear, indicating that Bev had hung up. 

Thus, allowing her to be the blame when y/n showed up to Derry’s local diner in a strappy plaid dress and enough attitude for the whole table. 

“Oh, baby!” Richie grinned at the sight of their friend finally coming out of her shell. “You didn’t get all purty for me, did ya?” 

“You wish, trashmouth,” y/n said, taking a seat next to a now shuddering Bill. “Hey, Billy!” Unexpectedly, the girl threw her arms around the boy, wrapping him in an embrace tighter than she was willing to admit. 

Bill opened his mouth, about to say something, only to close it again. The words were caught in the back of his throat and it didn’t help when the sweet scent of her floral perfume reached his nose, leaving him lost in any contagious thoughts of her that he’d unconsciously dreamed of before. 

She withdrew from him, prompting a harsh swallow from Bill. 

“Cat got your tongue?” No matter how much she wanted to, she didn’t let herself  wait long enough for an answer. Abruptly, she broke eye contact and settled on Ben for the time being. 

In a voice higher than normal, y/n had told him he was the best writer in their grade—something Bill found himself strangely jealous hearing. “My parents said I need an English tutor...” In one hand, she swirled her root beer with a straw. Her other hand was holding up her head that rested on it. “I was wondering if you’d be mine?” 

“Wow. Yeah, y/n, I’d love to help!” Ben said with a little too much pep in his step. 

“That’s awesome!” They'd settled on the library to meet up at the next day, but oddly enough Ben wasn’t there. 

Bill was. 

“What-what are you doing here?” It was hard for y/n to try and keep her cool. Especially when the boy whom she was harboring a crush for was standing right in front of her in place of her supposed-to-be English tutor. 

“I’m tuh-tutoring yo-you in En-engl-hish. Of cour-course.” He seriously needed to get a grip on that stutter of his. It was no use, as he could even feel his thoughts stammering against each other. 

“No, Ben’s my tutor,” y/n corrected as she sat her book bag down on the library desk. She riffled through the mess of folders stacked in her bag; an ‘aha’ noise inadvertently leaving her mouth once she found the red one marked ‘English’. “Where is Ben?” It became increasingly harder to keep up the act Beverly had helped her come up with. It grew much more apparent to y/n that it was easier to flirt with friends—not someone she had a full blown crush on. 

“He, uh, he cou-couldn’t mm-muh-make it.” So what if Bill had lied? So what if Bill had told Ben that he didn’t need to go to the library anymore as he took his place instead? 

“Hey Bill!” Ben had just gotten done trading out his History book for his Pre-Calculus one.

Bill was standing right next to his friend’s locker—how Ben hadn’t seen him walking up remained a mystery. 

“What’s up?” 

“y/n tuh-told me that she-she didn’t need an English tutor an-any...anymore.” 

“Huh.” Ben chewed the dead skin on his lip before he continued. “y/n told you this?” 

“Ye-yeah.” Bill nodded his head in order to seem convincing. “Since sh-she doesn’t have any class-classes with you, she wuh-wanted mm-me to tell you.” 

It was a dirty trick and even Bill didn’t know what came over him when he decided to play the lying game. 

y/n didn’t say anything. She only sat down and begun to organize her pencils. 

“Is-s th-that okay?” A surge of nervousness pumped through his veins while he posed the question. He looked down at y/n who was still quiet. 

“Oh, so you think you’re good at English?” y/n raised her eyebrow. She’d finally plucked up enough courage to put on her alter ego and face Bill. 

“I nuh-know I’m guh-good at English. A-according to mm-my tuh-teachers. Str-straight A’s.” He eventually took a seat next to her. It gave y/n a case of the jitters she’d force herself to get over. 

“Well, if that’s the case...” y/n leaned closer into Bill’s side. Her shoulder brushed against his in a feather light touch. “Teach me everything you know.” 

Bill felt himself beginning to choke on his spit. Ever since that day at the quarry, y/n had started acting different.  For one, she actually talked to him. She also traded her regular mom jeans for skirts and graphic tees for tank tops; clothes that showed the most skin. It took him a solid minute before he could clear his throat and begin to explain the differences between a run-on sentence and a comma splice. 

“I have to ask you something.” y/n stopped him in the middle of his explanation of different clauses. 

Bill looked up from the paper he was using to demonstrate. His eyes dwelled into hers. He knew where this conversation was leading to, and for the record, he didn’t necessarily want to go there. “Wuh-what is i-it?” 

“Did Ben really call this off?” He knew at least some variation of those words were going to come out of her mouth. “It just seems unlike him. And we see each other at lunch—”

“Act-actually...” Bill heaved a sigh, unwilling to reveal what had really happened. But it would be for the best, right?

Bill missed how the perpetual softness of her features had developed into a sort of smug look that y/n wouldn’t usually sport. “Bill...” Her hand reached up to cup his face. “If you had something to do with it, I wouldn’t be mad.” He didn’t realize her delicate fingers were carding through his auburn hair up until she pulled away. 

At this point, so many sensations swept through his insides. If a butterfly had flown out rather than actual words, Bill would only try to find out what species it was. 

“What.” He stopped to exhale. “Wha-what muh-makes you thi-think I had... had something to-to do with—” 

“Just a girl’s intuition.” y/n seemed serious for a second and Bill couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I’m kidding, duh. I got a text halfway through our study sesh.” She took out her Nokia to show him. 

Bill told me about cancelling our sessiom. Good luck in engkish. 

A chuckle tumbled from his lips, noting the obvious typos. “Fo-for a guh-guy wh-who was goin-gonna tu-tutor you.. he ca-can’t spell for sh-sh-shit.” 

y/n’s head fell back and she lost control of her body momentarily as laughter consumed her. Bill could tell she gained control again when she turned to him once more. Silently, she waited for an answer. 

“So... so wuh-what i-if I de-did.” 

“If you did, then, I’d think you conned Haystack out of an opportunity to teach me,” she said, her voice all sing-songy. She instantly noticed Bill’s frown—how he looked down in a sort of shameful way. “I’d also say you were pretty good company.” 

“Really?” Bill’s incredulous mood had egged y/n on even further. 

“Obviously. Who wouldn’t want to hang out with a total dreamboat like you?” She jabbed at his stomach. Bill would normally flinch at this, but his mind was too busy analyzing what she just said. 

“Dr-dreamboat?” His thick eyebrows drew together. Suspect crossed his face. 

“You heard me, Denbrough.” y/n cocked her head to the side. She shifted closer to him- that is, if she could be any closer. 

He tried to speak but all that came out were a bunch of incoherent stutters.

“Shut up.” She thought of pressing her finger to his mouth, but an idea even better sparked in her mind. 

y/n forced a quick kiss onto his lips. She didn’t stay that long; not giving him the chance to kiss back. She was met with his eyes closed and his lips left in a gathered state after parting. 

“Wowo-woah.” Bill sighed, opening his eyes. His already pink lips were stained a slight red from the lipstick that colored y/n’s own. 

“Was I good?” y/n’s alter ego had completely left her body at this point. Her previously shy and hesitant self was now fleshed out perfectly for Bill to see. 

Bill shrugged before pulling her in for another kiss. This time it was long and slow. This time Bill had the chance to kiss back. 

“Ye-yeah.” His expression was kind. “Amazing.” 

[lyricalimerence]

10 Things I Hate About You • 002

masterlist • 001, 002, 003... coming soon

Chapter Two — Heinous Bitches & Cliché Bets

summary: intro to kacey & the bet is made between kelce + topper

word count: 2196

warnings: mentions of smut like two or three lines total, swear words, and high school stupidity. oh, how i miss the dickstains i go to school with 😌.

a/n: i actually love writing kacey's character. n e who, this is for @popcsheyward because i'm making jj simp for u

Deep in the heart of the high school, a class of bored and inattentive seniors doodle in their notebooks and up the exposed skin on their arms; others text, their phones “hidden” beneaths their desks. Kacey Brooks was in the middle of it all. Everyone knew her, whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was the advent of spring, encroaching on summer, and on an island, that means it is hot. But, there Kacey sat, in baggy denim jeans, cuffed above her ankle so the hems didn’t drag along the floor. Her hands were tucked underneath her denim-clad thighs as she leaned over the desk, tracing the looping font that said “Romeo and Juliet” on the cover of the book on her desk with her eyes. God, she hated that book. They read it in Sophomore year, and she didn’t understand why they had to read the stupid play again.

The English teacher, Mr. Martin stood from his swivel chair, picking up his own copy of Romeo and Juliet just to drop it down on the podium, catching the drifting seniors’ attention. “Okay, slackers. What did you think of the play?”

A girl in the back of the classroom, another clean cut Kook with pink lip gloss and tight crop tops raised her hand. With a smile, she rushed into her opinion, not bothering to get permission to speak. It was a well known fact that in the Outer Banks it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. “It was so romantic. I loved it.”

Kacey’s brows stitched together, not mulling over her personal rebuttal for more than a moment before looking over her shoulder at the girl. Her eyes were glossy, lost in her romanization of the play. Ever since the second semester of her freshman year when she just snapped, she had been braving each day, treating it as a singular battle in the war against high school ignorance. “Romeo and Juliet was not romantic. It was two people having a teenage rebellion and wallowing in their own angst. They simply wanted an escape from their family lives. And Shakespeare? He was a racist, anti-semetic misogynist who is praised when he couldn’t decide on one way to spell his own name.”

The entirety of the class rolled their eyes, including Mr. Martin. It hadn’t been the first time Kacey had spoken out on her take on the social issues that came with the authors of novels and how they correlate to modern day society. Kelce, a Kook Prince of the highest degree and sitting to the left of Kacey, pokes at the metaphorical bear. “As opposed to a friendless, holier-than-thou wench?”

The girls pining after Kelce for his looks or trust fund giggled, despite his dig into the girl next him not being all that funny. Mr. Martin slapped the wooden podium with his Folger Shakespeare Library copy of Romeo and Juliet. “Pipe down, Slick.”

Kacey pulled the hem of her army green crop top to cover the slight bit of tanned skin exposed before quipping, “I guess having a dick and being a dick makes you entitled to our time.” The brunette pushed the hair falling over her forehead out of the way before waving her copy of the play in the air. “What about Sylva Plath or, I don’t know, Emily Bronte for all I care.”

Before Mr. Martin could respond with his own activistic rebuttal, Rafe Cameron walks into class, holding up a copy of the first Harry Potter book and raising his eyebrows, silently questioning whether that was the right book. He knew it wasn’t. “What’d I miss?”

A Pogue who was a known theatre nerd started humming the tune to the song from Hamilton titled What’d I Miss while Kacey all but spun in her seat. “Just the patriarchal values that run this lovely institution and corrupt the minds of dimwitted Kelce’s everywhere.”

Rafe nodded along to Kacey’s statement and through to her next breath, not having stopped in between words to breathe. “Good.” After his simple response, he immediately turned on his heel and walked back down the hall, rather enduring more uncomfortable conversations with the Dean than English class.

Kacey and Rafe had no ill will towards each other, only being able to base an opinion off the presumed stereotypes of each other that get passed around the school. Kacey and Rafe had known each other for a long time. When they were six, Kacey’s father was Rose Cameron’s obstetrician, seeing as he’s the best on the Outer Banks and the Camerons are the richest on the Outer Banks. That’s where they met: outside his stepmother’s hospital room, playing chopsticks with their fingers while they sat cross-legged on the tile floor, drinking apple juice from juice boxes. That’s where their friendship ended. They hadn’t really spoken since, only having that snapshot into reality before the doors were closed. Kacey was popular, had many more friends than Rafe did, and boys trailed her. When freshman year rolled around, he kept his distance because he knew he would walk away with a sharp pain in his groin. That was just how she carried herself, and he carried himself differently.

Mr. Martin attempted to call after Rafe, only to hear the cicadas buzzing outside.

“Mr. Martin, do you think we could get Kacey to take her Midol before class?” Kelce asks, his signature smirk gracing his face as he continued his quest to make Kacey’s life a living Hell. Snickers erupted from the class, causing Kelce’s smugness to go to his head, lifting himself onto his selfmade pedestal.

“One day, you’re gonna get bitch-slapped right across that brazen face of yours, and I’m not gonna do anything to stop it. Kacey, thank you for your input.” As Mr. Martin took a brief pause, Kacey smiled to herself, please that her social activism finally was justified by authority. He continued, “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to overcome upper-class, Kook oppression. It must’ve been awful.” Her chest puffed out with pride deflated at his words. She knew he was right. “But the next time you storm the school board campaigning for more recycling bins or whatever you white girls complain about, ask them why they can’t buy a book written by a Black man!”

“Understood. Anything else?” Kacey asked, looking straight past Mr. Martin and out the window overlooking the quad behind him.

“Yeah, go to the office, you’re pissing me off.” Her neck whipped to look at her English teacher at his words, opening her mouth to argue, but he shot her a stern look and pointed towards the door. In Kacey’s rageful frenzy, she decked Kelce in the face with her bag as she stormed out of the classroom towards the office.

The Dean sat in her office, her rouge painted nails clicking against the keys on her keyboard as the sleazy thoughts in her head transferred onto the Word document housing her novel. She whispered to herself as her fingertips ghosted the letter labeled keys on her laptop. She snapped her head up, calling out to the secretary, asking for her to look up another word for ‘engorged’ despite being able to pull up the thesaurus on her computer.

“Tumescent?” Kacey suggested as she walked into the small, pink office.

The Dean snapped her fingers, pointing at Kacey as she morphed her hand into a finger gun. “Perfect!” Kacey swung her bag off her shoulder and onto the ground next to the chair in which she seated herself. “I hear you’re terrorizing English class again.”

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t just English class, and expressing my opinions is not a terrorist action.” The eighteen-year-old raised her eyebrows indignantly, her head nodding slightly in authoritativeness.

The Dean smiled sarcastically at Kacey, “The way you expressed your opinion to Topper Thornton? His testical retrieval operation went quite well, if you’re interested.”

“I maintain he swung his own golf club up his legs like a field goal.” Kacey crossed her arms over her chest. She settled into her chair. Her conversations with the crude woman in front of her always went the same way; Mr. Martin threw her out of class for existing, and her previous deeds suddenly have updates that the Dean thinks Kacey should know about.

“The point I’m trying to make is that people think you’re a heinous bitch and you should work on it.” Her eyes flickered to her still open laptop and back up to the eighteen-year-old. “What do you think about blood sex?”

“Okay, yeah, this has been lovely, however,” grabbing her backpack, she swung it over her shoulder as she rose from the uncomfortable chair. “I think I’ll let you get back to Chris chokeslamming Jackie into a wall.”

As Kacey left the office to walk the halls of Kildare County High School, the Dean seemed to take her words into serious consideration, whispering Kacey’s final sentiment under her breath as she typed the word ‘chokeslam.’

. . .

Kelce leant against the stone wall that surrounded the courtyard and only rose to about waist-high of even the shortest of students. His best friend and fellow poster child for the effects of affluenza, Topper Thornton ( who is very acquainted with Kacey Brooks and her golf club swing ), stood next to him, the two of them surveying the inhabitants of the grassy lawn in the back of the school. Topper noticed Gracie walking through the gap in the stone wall, her Spanish textbook pressed to her chest as she nodded along to what Arianna said next to her. The familiar breeze carrying the scent of the ocean and the feeling of home blew the short strands of Gracie’s hair that framed her face in almost an angelic way, and her sundress that fell to her mid-thigh swayed as she walked. Gracie and Arianna were picturesque, almost like they actively strived to be compared to Cher and Dionne from Clueless.

With a carnal smirk, Topper elbowed Kelce, muttering “Virgin alert” as the sophomore passed the two guys, smiling and waving at Kelce as they went.

“Lookin’ good, ladies.” As if Kelce’s remark was a que, Gracie and Arianna pushed forward, leaving the hormonal teenager guys watching them like they were prey for them to catch.

“No way, Bro. They’re outta your league.”

“No one’s out of my league.” Kelce’s eyes didn’t leave Gracie as she distanced herself from them.

Topper pulled fifty dollars out of his pocket, “Wanna bet?”

“Nah, I’ve got money. This’ll be for fun.” Kelce pushed Topper’s hand that was holding onto the bill away and dapped up his empty hand, sealing the deal. Kelce was about to embark on one of the most cliché, tropical bets of his high school experience.

“Just look at her, man.” JJ watched Gracie and Arianna pass him, John B, and Pope. He followed her with love struck eyes and wistful pining.

Pope tilted his head, the cap that sat on his head almost falling off his head as he tried to understand his friend’s mindset. “She’s just so…”

“Perfect?” JJ offered.

John B and Pope shared a glance, rolling their eyes at JJ’s suggestion. “I was going to say ditzy.” John B replied.

“How can you say that?” JJ turned to glance at his friends who were totally unimpressed by the girl that captured almost all the guy’s hearts at the high school. “She’s totally…”

“Narcissistic?” Pope said, getting a nod from John B in agreement.

“That’s her sister, c’mon, guys.” JJ waved his hand in the air for emphasis. There was no way Gracie was like Kacey. They were too polar. “There’s more to her than you think. See her smile? She’s totally pure.”

“Yeah, pure money. She’s a Kook, dude.” John B ran a hand through his overgrown brunet locks. “What’s there is a snotty princess wearing a dress that was purposefully planned to make Pogues like you realize you can’t have her and Kooks like Kelce and Topper want her.”

“Besides, JJ, you know the rule. It’s not like she could date you even if she wanted to.” Pope added on, readjusting his baseball cap to fit snugly on his head.

“Put her in the Spank Bank and move on, Bro.” John B and Pope started walking in the opposite direction, lunch was about to start.

JJ jogged to catch up, shaking his head in denial. “Nah.”

“Move on, man. Jizz Wizz and then dip.” Pope reiterated John B’s sentiment as JJ held his arm out, stopping them in their tracks in front of the bulletin board to the right of the door into school.

“She needs a Spanish tutor,” He ripped the paper advertisement off the cork board.

“You can’t even speak Spanish.”

“What do you mean?” JJ looked at John B as he traced Gracie’s phone number printed on the paper.

“Broken Spanish and fantasizing about lobsters from Yucatan doesn’t mean you know Spanish.” Pope pulled the paper out of JJ’s hand, ready to tack it back to the board before JJ took it again.

“Okay, so I don’t know Spanish, but I will.”

tags — @perkily @mortifiedposts @poguequeen @abigailpankow @curlybrownhairedboys @steverogers123 @outerbankslut @jayjaymaebank @jjssarah @whOreforharry @wowitswondergurl @anonymous0writer @kodi8314 @outrbank @aestheticcraze @kylosleftbuttcheek @x-lulu @dailygrace06 @calswildflower95 @insanitysparkles @prejudic3 @ilovejjmaybank @apoguecalledjj @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @calumbroutledge @rudys-pankow @bxllasanosa @write-from-the-heart @thelocalpogue @fandomsinapile @starkeymarkey @lovingxjj @beatement-l @drew-starkey @beckester @butgilinsky @kayak-huesgen @everydayimfangirling @delinquentstarkey @g4bster @crumpetsandmarmite

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[evcrafter]

Carlos De Vil

Face-claim: Cameron Boyce

Status: semi-active

Biography:

Carlos Oscar De Vil is the son of Cruella De Vil. He was first introduced as the bullying target of Jay and Mal. Raised to believe that dogs are vicious animals, Carlos used to have an irrational fear of canines. Everything changed when Carlos arrived in Auradon and met a real dog, Dude, and the two soon became inseparable.

Carlos is one of the nicer VKs and is rarely seen doing anything bad. Having been treated as a slave for a long time, he is obedient and dislikes the idea of going against authority. He tends to follow what his mother tells him to and what his friends do. His mother claims he was a follower rather than a leader, and Carlos longed to prove her wrong.

Being younger and physically weaker than the rest of his class, Carlos was often a target of bullies. Despite being looked down by the majority, Carlos has shown to be a lot smarter than them. He is a true tech prodigy, having had worked feverishly on a project that would connect the Isle of the Lost to the outside world.

Although he inherited his mother's love of fashion (especially if it's in black-and-white), he didn't inherit Cruella's love of dogs ― on the contrary, Carlos is deathly afraid of dogs. Cruella raised Carlos into thinking that dogs are killers, as well as vicious, rabid pack animals. As a result, Carlos had an extreme fear of canines, practically allowing them to chase him up a tree. Carlos realized that dogs can be gentle and lovable when Ben introduced him to Dude the campus mutt; the two then developed an unbreakable bond.

Carlos cares about his friends deeply and sees them as his older siblings. Evie was the first person that he ever considered as a friend. The two grew closer after Carlos rescued Evie from the trap that Mal set up. Carlos noticed that something was troubling Mal and requested the rest of his friends to sit down and have a talk, even though he didn't know how to start a "girl talk." He is extremely supportive of all his friends, and even calls them his family.

One of Carlos's greatest attributes is his character. He is extremely loyal, willing to follow his friends (family) wherever they go. He is honest, admits when he feels down, very clever, witty, and asks for advice when he needs it. He keeps the team together and tries his best to be helpful to the others. Carlos is fun-loving and holds good clothing styles. And as most would say, very good-looking.

Carlos is treated badly by his mother and sleeps in her dressing room on the floor, without touching her furs. He is forced to look after and clean her furs, and it is also revealed that she loves her furs more than him and refers to her car as "her baby."

Since he never had anyone to play with, and everyone ignored and bullied him, Carlos never received what he longed to have: love. Cruella tortured him with chores and the thought of dogs, while Mal and Jay bullied him into holding a party. Reza, his rival in school, takes a vial out of the lab, and Carlos himself admits that Reza hates him. In the book, Carlos seems to be the one everyone beats up, as he tells Evie he is beat up in "games." At Evie's 6th birthday party, Carlos is given a cat named Beelzebub, a kitten from Lucifer's litter. Thanks to "Bee," Carlos was given affection and love, and was able to push through many hard times that were yet to come over the course of the years. Years later, Carlos rescues Evie from his mother's closet and helps her escape the bear traps. As a result, the two begin to bond together and grow closer throughout the course of the books. Evie tries to cheer Carlos up about his bedroom, but Carlos objects, saying his mother keeps him away from her furs. When Evie offers to give him an old comforter, Carlos didn't believe that a Villain Kid would offer such a thing; Evie herself felt awkward, and didn't know what to say. Carlos tells her that "no one's ever cared whether I'm warm or not." Having never had any form of comfort, Carlos asks if she has a pillow, regrets asking, and then tries to cover it up by claiming he has had one before. Even as both felt extremely awkward and uncomfortable, both felt something different inside, and we are given a glimpse that VK's can feel different emotions.

With other things that are not related to his house, Carlos is incredibly smart and enjoys science and creating inventions, and refers to himself as a nerd. He has a tree-house where he keeps his inventions and chemicals, as he fears his mother will create hair products. He also has Jace and Harry, the sons of Jasper and Horace, as his "minions", though they are not truly his friends since Cruella forces them to hang out together. He gets beaten up and pushed around in school. Carlos was also the one responsible for making a hole in the dome briefly when he was testing his invention, which would cause Maleficent's staff to gain its magic back as a result. It also lets him watch Disney Channel sitcoms like Dog with a Blog, Liv and Maddie, and Mighty Med while the dome is open. After Mal and Jay force Evie to help them retrieve it, she also convinces Carlos to reluctantly join the quest. Though the group fail when the staff is unable to retain any magic, Carlos is finally accepted by Mal and Jay, beginning the four's friendship.

Cruella forces Carlos to help touch up her roots, fluff up her fur, and scrape the bunions from her feet. This makes Carlos consider that heading to Auradon wouldn't be so bad, but Cruella uses his fear of canines as a way to control him. While in the limo headed to Auradon, Carlos takes a liking to chocolate. When they first meet Doug, he seems to have trouble remembering the names of the Seven Dwarfs, though Carlos seems to know the names of each and reminds Doug of Sneezy. He is the most tech-savvy, as he seems to take a liking to video games and is able to use a computer to locate the museum where the Fairy Godmother's wand is. When Jay causes the alarm to sound, Carlos hears the phone and picks it up; he manages to disable the alarm and make them think it was a system error.

The Fairy Godmother assigns Carlos and Jay to sports. While Carlos doesn't seem to do well, Ben offers to help him with this. As he practices sprinting, Carlos gets chased by the campus mutt, Dude. Seeing that Dude isn't vicious, Carlos starts to take a liking to canines, and takes Dude everywhere he goes in the film. During the big game between Sherwood, Jay insists that Carlos play with him, and with his help, the team wins the game.

When Cruella sees Dude and calls him an "earmuff," Carlos defends Dude; this is most likely the first time that Carlos has stood up to his mother. He then "burns" her by telling her to "give it a rest" with talking to a toy dog head. In one plan, it is Carlos' job to get into the limo and find the remote that activates the barrier around the Isle of the Lost. At the coronation, when Mal makes a speech on choosing to be good, Carlos is cautious at first, as he is nervous of the anger of their parents. But after being assured, he chooses to be good too. He is seen dancing with Jane during the coronation party.

As they settle into life in Auradon, Carlos is seen as the student who spends his time in library after school and likes to work in the dark. However, he is first seen working on finding the culprit of sending him an email to return to the Isle. Mal and Evie join him, and both state they also received messages telling them the same thing. When Evie suggests that their parents are behind the scheme, Carlos worries and begins to search urgently. He manages to hack the system on his computer by guessing the code- D-A-L-M-A-T-I-A-N-S. He unlocks the Dark Net, a form of internet that allows villains to communicate secretly. Carlos becomes frightened and tells the others that he will work on obtaining more information about the Dark Net.

Later, Carlos is running across the Tourney field to find Mal and Evie. He lunges into the girl's dorm, only to find the door open, and tumbles to the ground front forward. Evie and Mal help him up, and Carlos quickly tells them he found some important news. He pulls up a tab with their pictures on it, with red X's across them. He tells them he found out a secret message and translates for them. Apparently, the secret meeting is on Saturday at 11:59 PM, before the New Moon rises. Jay joins them a few minutes later and suggests planning a way to get back to the Isle without being noticed. Together, the four VK's make a plan.

Jay states that he and Carlos must play in the Tourney game on Saturday, and Evie has a dance plan that has to go through as well. The 4 make a plan to compete and go to the dance, while also being able to leave for the Isle later that night. Carlos and Jay would act to be a chauffeur and bodyguard, while Mal and Evie would pretend to be Lonnie and Audrey. Carlos and Jay win the game, though Ben is absent due to King duties.

Afterwards, the four go to the dance, and spend some time there so others know they are present. Mal eventually gets Jay to follow through with the plan, and goes to find Carlos. Carlos is dancing with Jane when Jay comes to find him. When Jay tells him he's not feeling well, Carlos almost forgets the plan but saves it at the last minute. He says he doesn't feel well either, clutches his middle, pretends to be in great pain, and tells Jane he is sorry. Both he and Jay make it out of the ballroom and make a beeline for the limo. When Evie and Mal join them, Evie asks Jay how he knows how to drive. When Jay admits he can't, Carlos tells him to switch places. Mal asks him how he knows how to drive, and Carlos says he is self-taught. Ben arrives coming back from Camelot and finds Mal and the others leaving. When he sees what is going on, he asks why Mal and Evie look like Lonnie and Audrey and why Carlos is driving. Ben says he is not mad, but is questioning Carlos driving without a license, Jay tricking Jordan out of the keys, and Mal and Evie pretending to be someone else. He lets them go reluctantly, fearing for their safety, but knows they need to go.

Carlos drives to the Isle with the others, but he crashes the car when trying to find a place to hide the limo. They are okay, but they lose to remote to the dome, causing them to worry. After they change, the four went separate ways to find their parents. Carlos heads to Castle Across The Way with Evie to find their parents. When Castle Across The Way is deserted, they try Hell Hall. But once more the house is empty. Later Carlos and Evie meet up with Mal and Maddy to eat at the Slop Shop. Evie becomes annoyed with Maddy, as she bullies Carlos about past exploits. Carlos is extremely uncomfortable throughout the entire conversation.

Later, Carlos, Evie, and Mal meet up with Jay, who was waiting for the Anti-heroes meeting to begin. During the meeting, the four learn that their parents are in the Endless Catacombs of Doom, and are looking for their talismans. After the meeting, Carlos and Jay obtain more information about the talismans. Mal had left the meeting, being tricked into following Maddy. Evie follows her, to make sure she is okay. Carlos and Jay are unaware of their absence. When Evie comes back to find Carlos and Jay, Mal is surrounded by a group of VK's who are angry. Mal is thrown off the port, right into the ocean. Carlos is the only one who could swim out of Jay and Evie. He jumps into to ocean to save Mal, while Jay and Evie draw away the crocodiles. Carlos is able to save Mal, and the group meet up at Mal's former home. Carlos shows up wearing a yellow and purple sweater and shorts that were too big for him.

The next morning, Carlos and the other Anti-heroes find a hole that leads into the Catacombs. They enter the Catacombs and begin to search for the talismans. After Evie and Jay find and conquer their talismans, Carlos has to face his. His talisman forms a picture of his mother holding her Ring of Envy. Carlos is deathly scared, and almost lets his mind and fear get the better of him. But, he listens to his heart, and manages to take the ring away from his mother. The ring tempts Carlos to use it to destroy his mother, but his heart is better than that, and he resists the temptation. Much later, Carlos and the others make their way out the Catacombs.

Together with his friends, Carlos is able to defeat Madam Mim. He returns to Auradon Prep on Sunday with his friends, and hangs out with Jane afterwards. The book closes with Carlos stating, "I don't feel like a hero." But Mal ends the book saying to remember what Yen Sid said, "We are the villains you root for in the story."

Now instilled with a burgeoning sense of self-confidence from his new life on Auradon, Carlos has left his wicked ways behind him along with his fear of dogs. With his fellow villain kids and his buddy Dude the dog by his side, he is ready to step up and take on another epic adventure. When Ben hears that Mal has returned to the Isle of the Lost after the pressure of royally perfect becomes too much for her. Carlos along with Evie and Jay attempt to teach Ben their wicked ways so he can sneak around the island to find her without being recognized and soon come face to face with Uma, Harry Hook, and Gil.

He is extremely intelligent. Unlike the other VK's, Carlos is very smart, a mathematician, a scientist, an inventor, and an athlete. After all, he was the one who "punched" a hole in the dome.

He has the ability to drive. Unlike a few, Carlos knows how to drive the limo, and is able to travel from Auradon to the Isle. Carlos himself tells the others that he learned how to drive so he could drive his mother around. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a license.

Carlos has the potential to create spells, as well as cast them, like Evie and Mal. However, it seems like Carlos avoids using any form of magic, except for the truth gummy. He doesn't seem to like using power, and tends to stick to the internet and online world.

He is a true tech prodigy. Carlos holds the ability to use many forms of technology, like in finding the museum and his 3D printer. He even impresses Chad with his intelligence and technology, which might be the only reason why Chad is always using his 3D printer without his permission.

He can swim. Unlike Jay and other people of the Isle, Carlos knows how to swim, or at least dog-paddle, as he says, "I can dog-paddle! I'll go!"

Carlos is sometimes a step ahead of the others. Literally, as Evie said, "How did you know... Never mind." He is often able to find out certain information that allows his friends to figure out different plans. His ability to investigate and obtain information makes him very special to the group.

Carlos holds many strengths, but that doesn't mean that he has no weakness. There are few weaknesses Carlos has, and some of them are just mental.

Carlos tends to become very nervous quickly, which sometimes makes him falter in certain areas.

He doesn't always stand up for himself. When his mother video chats him, he stands up for Dude and surprises his mother in the process. Carlos has trouble standing up to Jay and Mal when we first meet him, and is bullied into holding Mal's party, and joining the quest to find the Dragon Eye. He allows the other students to beat him up in a game.

He is physically weaker and younger than the rest. Carlos is shown to be almost two years younger than the rest in school age and age. Due to this, he is not able to fight back against the bullies.

His self-confidence is very low, due to his mother. Cruella constantly tells him that he is useless in everything except chores. She constantly works him like a dog. Because of this, Carlos always kicks himself, and Mal noticed his behavior as well in Isle of the Lost.

He can sometimes be a little naive. Carlos doesn't always take a hint in some situations. He doesn't always understand some things, but because of his friends and family, he is eventually able to catch up with the others. Sometimes he is able to understand the situation in a deeper way, making him even more valuable to Mal, Evie, and Jay.

Verses:

Runt of the Isle: Carlos on the Isle of the Lost

Free to Be: Carlos in Auradon

Road Less Traveled: any AU threads

[fink-le-freak]

@mikey-putrid and I have this weird little desert town we created called Halflight and I want to share some of the character blurbs we wrote for the citizens

Notable Locations Within Halflight

-Halflight General Hospital

-Halflight Public Library

-Halflight Grammar School

-Halflight Town Hall

-The Flock and Feather

-Dragon's Keep Games and Comics

-Feline Good

-Pins N' Needles

-Ink Addicts

-Rose's Antiques

-Theodore's Oddities and Enchantments

-Kelly's Judo Club

-New to You

-Sunny Valley Nursing Home

Dr. Elsie O'Dalaigh, 54: The town's most beloved doctor. Her dry wit and eccentricities may put you off at first, but she's a very warm and wise woman and should you fall ill or find yourself hurt, you will be in good hands. She's originally from Dublin and has a fair number of stories to tell from her wild youth in Ireland. She has an affinity for all things macabre but especially spiders. You might find her dozing off on her porch swing or enjoying a cup of tea with a friend. You're always welcome to join her and her spouse for dinner.

Dr. Ivan Vasilevsky, 39: A sickly doctor who recently came to town from New York City because the air quality was better for his lungs. He's very brilliant but hardly friendly and very private. Because he's fairly well known, patients come from across the country seeking his care. The only person he seems friendly with is his nurse, Cameron.

Dr. Andre Jimenez, 34: An anthropomorphic parrot surgeon at Halflight General Hospital. He's a total social butterfly and loves to talk, talk, talk. He has trouble keeping secrets and falls into gossip frequently. He's well liked by all his colleagues, all but Dr. Vasilevsky that is.

Johnathan "Johnny" Ross, 20: A cowardly and sensitive young man with a passion for piercing. Though only an apprentice, he's very knowledgeable about body modification and keeps his own piercings immaculate. His motorcycle is also kept in pristine condition. He's also quite shy and is hardly ever seen without his girlfriend, Loretta.

Venus Estelle, 31: A laid back frilled lizard woman that claims to see the future through the smoke from her pipe. She's very transparent and sees no reason to keep secrets about herself. She has nothing to hide. She has a passion for music and plays drums in a local punk band, The Heart Electric.

Kaisei "Kai" Kelly, 56: A very stoic and serious judo instructor. His father was a boxer in Ireland and ever since childhood, Kai has been enthralled by martial arts. He fancies himself a train enthusiast and has a large collection of model trains in his home. His serious nature and brute strength can make him rather intimidating but his husband Rodney finds him cute. He visits his family in Kyoto every spring.

Rodney Kelly, 59: The gym teacher at Halflight Grammar School. Originally from Edinburgh and standing a diminutive 5'2", Rodney more than makes up for his height with personality. He's encouraging, kind, hyperactive and loud. Very, very loud. Fitness has always been an important part of his life, even at nearly 60. He does his best to make gym class a fun place for all instead of a source of bullying and stress for those who don't like team sports.

Jeremy Fox, 19: A brilliant college student neck deep in conspiracy theories. He's very paranoid and distrusting, often to his detriment. He wants to prove to his professors that aliens exist though none of them will give him the time of day. When he isn't studying or trying to prove his theories, he can be found practicing his bass guitar or stargazing. He and his older sister like to unwind by smoking pot and watching sci-fi movies. He's one of Johnny's closest friends.

Jodie Fox, 23: Jeremy's cheerful, supportive yet ditzy older sister and roomate. She let him move in with her after their parents kicked him out for being gay. She doesn't understand a lot of what he talks about but she's happy he's passionate about something. Her bedroom is filled with Care Bears merchandise and colorful collectibles. She's rarely seen without her sticker covered roller skates. The two siblings live in the apartment right above Johnny and Loretta.

Sunny McIntyre, 30: An anthro horse gym rat and fitness trainer. Her cheerfulness is contagious and her motherly nature makes her easy to talk to. Her thick southern drawl might make it hard to understand her though. She always looks on the bright side and doesn't have a pessimistic bone in her body. In addition to being a die hard Bon Jovi fan, she enjoys fishing, hiking and hunting. She also hosts a transgender support group at her house.

Junichiro Oguma, 46: An overworked and underpaid pharmacy technician. Though very good at what he does, he isn't really a people person. He's rather grumpy and has little patience for foolishness. He's infamously difficult to work with due to his perfectionism. He holds himself to ridiculously high standards and gets upset easily when he fails to meet his own expectations. His wit is drier than the desert itself.

Edward Dowler, 68: A retired illustrator living comfortably at the Sunny Valley Nursing Home. He takes his sketchbook everywhere and may sheepishly ask you if you would mind posing for a portrait. He's a gentle soul and a firm believer in the power of pacifism. He's very close to his adopted daughter and three grandsons.

Joanne Lawrence, 47: The owner of Joanne's Diner. She bought the place almost 20 years ago and turned it into a comfortable, 1950's style diner popular among bikers and travelers. She's very blunt and hates wasting time but if you treat her well, she'll treat you well. Threaten her livelihood however and you will pay dearly. Regulars might call her Mama because she takes such good care of them.

Dennis "Moose" Bowen, 52: The cook at Joanne's. He's a people pleaser and will do whatever a customer asks to make sure they enjoy their meal. Hearing someone say they didn't like his food is like a knife through the heart. He prefers to stay in the background and not call too much attention to himself. Joanne calls him Moose because of his large size.

Hilda "Mouse" Calhoun, 21: A demon waitress at Joanne's. Contrary to what you might believe, she's very down to earth and sweet. She's not here for souls or bringing you to damnation, she just wants to serve pancakes and save money for beauty school. Her petite build makes her the Mouse to Dennis's Moose.

Wally Mack, unknown but born before 1956, mentally and physically around 21-24: A living humanoid shadow that can usually be found on a wall at Joanne's. He's chatty and perky and loves to dance. He's able to interact with others through their shadows. If Wally was to touch your shadow's shoulder, you would feel it. He likes to play harmless pranks on Dennis.

Tiffany "Tiff" Cain, 25: An anthropomorphic eagle bartender at her father's restaurant, The Flock and Feather. She also volunteers to work with children with special needs on weekends. She's very patient and a daredevil at heart. Her straightforward, casual attitude makes guests comfortable and keeps them coming back. She may be seen skateboarding around town.

Hisao Nakajima-Stewart, 33: The recently appointed head librarian at Halflight Public Library. He's rather sarcastic and moody but becoming a father has softened him up. He's very passionate about high fantasy and hosts Dungeons and Dragons sessions at his house every week. He spoils his chihuahua, Kotori, rotten with all kinds of pretty dresses and toys. He loves his husband, daughter and newborn son dearly.

Delwyn Morgane, 29: An employee at Dragon's Keep Games and Comics. When his shift ends, he dons a full suit of armor and obsessively hunts down dragons, or at least tries to. He's yet to actually kill a dragon. He's quite handsome but has a few screws loose. He plays Dungeons and Dragons with Hisao and friends every Thursday night.

Klaus Brunsvold, 70: A quiet and hardworking man originally from Norway. English is not his first language but he's slowly improving thanks to his coworkers. Though he might look imposing, his warm smile puts people at ease right away. He works at the cat cafe, Feline Good, as a barista and gleefully serves customers fattigman and slices of ostekake. Goria says he has "big grandpa energy".

Jonas Ostergard, 61: A blunt, reclusive man that's easily recognized by his towering height and voracious appetite. Standing 8'2" in comparison to his wife's tiny 5', he's one of many oddities in this town. He's absolutely enthralled by zombies and robots and fills notebooks with detailed diagrams regarding them. He's often seen at the Flock and Feather, chatting up a storm with his friend Tiff. He has autism, ADHD and intellectual disabilities.

Jamie De Luna, 18: A scrawny young man enamored with anime and martial arts. He's a bit hotheaded and immature but nonetheless determined to become an MMA fighter. His younger sister Tala is his biggest fan and supports her nerdy big brother all the way. He loves cheesy kung fu movies and takes them very seriously. He thinks very highly of his judo teacher Kai and seems to think of him as a father figure.

Goria Stout, 15: A high school student and part of Hisao's Dungeons and Dragons group. She's partially an ogre, 25% to be exact, and admires her ogre grandfather greatly. However, at the same time, part of her has been made to feel ashamed of her pointed ears and blue skin. She's rather lazy and self centered, but occasionally shows a more warm side. She wants to study magic and become a feared sorceress but just doesn't have the natural ability to do so. She frequents the comic shop and is the only one that believes in Delwyn's quest to slay a dragon.

Wesley Eldridge, 19: The bratty and materialistic son of billionaires left to play in mommy and daddy's mansion. His parents are constantly traveling the world, so he spends his days lazing about and relishing his family's wealth. He's notoriously snobbish and will have no part in anything, or anyone, he deems beneath him. He's had a fondness for unicorns since he was a child and even owns a purebred Irish unicorn named Divinity Diamond. He's very protective of her and has no qualms about sending his guards after you if you dare harm her.

Renwick Ozul, 25: E-boy and aspiring model with a sour disposition. He's distrusting of others and keeps people at a distance, except for his close friend Missy. Despite his cold and calculating online persona, he's quite insecure and struggles with his body image. He can be rather rude and nasty but has his moments of vulnerability and kindness.

Chelsea Montgomery, 23: A quiet young woman who keeps to herself. Some people say she fades into the background. She's very creative and resourceful, cleverly finding solutions to most problems she faces. Her interests include anime, cosplay, drawing and video games. She's great with kids and would like to be an art teacher one day.

Dallas Silvers, 27: A monster hunter and unofficial sheriff of Halflight. She's bold and quick witted, outsmarting any beast that threatens the town and quickly subduing it or killing it. Her talent with a rifle is nigh unmatched in town. She's the second oldest of 11 children and adores her older brother, the bounty hunter Smokey Silvers. She finds it difficult to be open about her feelings but loves her family dearly.

(Characters below belong to my friend @mikey-putrid, follow him he's cool)

Brody Erickson-O'Dalaigh, 47: The town's resident maternal figure and unofficial monster hunter (or befriender, really). Their spunky, adventurous attitude often gets them into shenanigans, but they always manage to pull themself out. They are kind and loving towards everyone. No matter who or what you are, you are always invited to Brody's for a nice meal.

Landon Borowick, 26: Brody's, often unwilling, sidekick and a security guard at the local mall. He's a cowardly young man who would rather stay home and get stoned, but thinks of Brody as his hero and therefore ends up getting dragged along on their adventures. Despite his fearful nature, Landon is a physically intimidating person who will do anything to help a friend.

Darcy Cooper, 16: A rough and tumble student at Halflight Grammar School. Darcy moved to Halflight with her mother to open up a bakery, which doubles as their home, and she often makes deliveries on her bike. Her warm and friendly personality helps her to make friends easily. Usually covered in bandages, Darcy loves practicing stunts on her skateboard, as well as watching anime and playing video games.

Loretta Sims, 20: Johnny's girlfriend, aspiring cryptozoologist and collecter of cool antiques. Loretta is shy and timid, preferring to blend into the background and not draw attention to herself. She loves spending time in the forest and working on her ever growing scrapbook. She's never far from her beloved boyfriend.

Cameron Payette, 28: A nurse at Halflight General Hospital and Dr. Vasilevsky's live in assistant. Having grown up with 15 disabled and ill siblings, Cameron has developed a love of helping people, keeping them healthy and cheering them up with a silly song on their trusty ukelele. During their off time, they enjoy video games and sci-fi movies.

[heathendolan]

Boys Will Be Bugs -- Lemon Boy Series [E.D]

Summary: Ethan’s mean and bitter for a lot of reasons, but none of them have to do with the shy bookworm who shows him was a real friend is. / A better look at how Ethan really feels about… well, everything. From his impressionable and incredibly sensitive toddler years to the end of college, it’s his turn to talk.

Warnings: MAKES WAY MORE SENSE IF YOU’VE READ LEMON BOY + 888 FIRST !!!

A/N: hi everybody, i feel like i’m new again and i’m as nervous as i was when i first published on here lmfao. i heard cavetown’s ‘boys will be bugs’ a few weeks ago and just about exploded with how accurate it was for ethan and was completely inspired to write a part from his narrative. also, this anon also did me solid with this request, so thank you so fkn much!! extended author’s note here, cause i have mucho to say. mmkay. love y’all 

WC: 23.2K+ || masterlist || PLAYLIST

SERIES | 1: Lemon Boy | 1½: Banana Bread | 2: 888 | 3½: It’s U

Ethan isn't right. He isn't wrong. Well, his parents say he's isn't--but his teachers say he's 'a little... different', and Ethan knows just what that means. He knows that when they say things like "Ethan just doesn't fit well with the other kids," in hushed voices at the semiannual kindergarten parent-teacher conferences, they're implying that he's the problem, and moreover that he's noncompliant to some degree. They only confirm this theory when they say things like "Ethan, go build blocks with Jacob and Cory," knowing full and well that he'd much rather sit underneath the tented blanket-walls of his own personal fort and read The BFG. Teachers call his fort 'antisocial'. Ethan calls his fort 'exclusive'. (He read that word in Charlotte's Web once). (He hopes he's using it right). (And pronouncing it right, for that matter).

Ethan feels a little like a BFG--Big Friendly Giant--and it isn't because he's oversized or anything, because he's actually a bit of a runt, like Wilbur the pig. He's like a Big Friendly Giant in the sense that he feels really alone in a sea of kindergarten boys, ones that are bent on perfecting spiral throws and effective tackles. Grayson, his twin, is sort of like that; Ethan thinks his daddy probably likes him better than Ethan for that reason. Ethan's more like his mommy. He likes to read (and he's happy to tell you that he's already at a second-grade reading level, thank you very much), and he likes to read a lot.  (Hence the fort.) And even if he didn't like to read (which he does), he would prefer building blocks in isolation. Ethan's sensitive--another word he learned in Charlotte's Web. The other kids are mean, even when Ethan knows they aren't trying to be. So when he misses his mommy and Jacob Kronwell says, 'suck it up', he bursts into tears, and that's alright. And on that note, what does 'rub some dirt on it' even mean? His daddy says boys just gotta be tough, but why? Why would Ethan ever choose football over a reclusive reading hut if he doesn't even like football all that much? To look cool? Ethan doesn't care about being cool. He cares about getting to the end of this chapter and lunch. And so what if he cries? He just can't help it--he feels better when he cries, and he's not going to stop just cause Jacob says he acts like a girl. That's hardly an insult--last time he checked, his sister Cameron was the coolest person he knew.  Ethan hopes first grade is better.

- Ethan loves summer. Summer is almost better than The Adventures of Captain Underpants. (Almost). His mom takes him to the library almost every day. The first time they walked hand in hand into the big building, Ethan's jaw fell to the floor; how on Earth had they been hiding all these books from him? He was frozen solid in place with shock while his mom chatted away with the librarian, carrying polite small talk about how 'simply stunning this colonial architecture was' and how she was 'heartbroken she hadn't been here sooner'. Ethan thinks she's overcompensating with compliments because they only moved to Allentown about a year ago. He noticed it a few months ago when she talked to the checkout clerk at the local grocery store for a full hour about the rising prices of milk. He asked her why she did that. She told him that was how people made friends. Ethan thinks anybody that only wants to be friends with his mom because she can jab about milk for an hour is stupid, but he's not allowed to use that word yet. Now is not the time for jabbing about milk or colonial architecture Ethan decides, and he wiggles right out of his mother's grip and clambers over to the kid's section, completely ignoring the way his mom calls his name and apologizes meekly to the librarian. He doesn't care what the librarian thinks about him. He cares about books. And there's so many of them. He has to crane his neck just to catch a glimpse of the tower of shelves with books, upon books, upon books. He sees all of the books that are in his scholastic book fair catalog and then some. The priest at his church talks about heaven a lot, and Ethan thinks he found it. His mom is hot on his trail though, because she scoops him up in her arms and balances him on her hip, pulling him in snug and warm. Ethan loves his mom and all the affection she gives, and he wraps his arms around her neck. "See one you like?" she asks, kissing his temple. Some of the kids in his kindergarten class hate being picked up by their mom, and Ethan doesn't really get that. They would always say things like 'Mom, stop,' and 'go away' and he doesn't understand; his mom was by far his best friend. And probably his only friend, besides Gray. And Cam. And Dad. And they said things like 'you still call your mom 'mommy'?', and that's why Ethan loves summer the most, because he can be himself without those comments. "Yeah," Ethan says, poking generally at the whole stack of books. "I wanna read them all." His mom merely chuckles and nods. "Alright, we have all summer," she says. "Grab one and we'll read it, and then we'll return it and grab a new one." Ethan reaches blindly and grabs the first one he can wrap his stubby fingers around. "James and the Giant Peach?" she clarifies. "You know that's from the same guy who wrote The BFG, right?"  Ethan already knows this one is going to be his new favorite.  - Kids are mean. Ethan thinks just about half his classmates are minions of Count Olaf, the villain in his newest literary obsession, A Series of Unfortunate Events, and Ethan feels a bit like one of the Baudelaire children. Not because his parents died in a house fire or that he's been relocated to various relatives, each stranger than the last, and most certainly not because he's inheriting a gazillion dollars (because that part is super untrue. His family's sort of struggling right now). He feels like a Baudelaire child because it seems like everywhere he turns is a dead end full of people that want to kill him. Okay, maybe 'kill' isn't the right term, but God, it feels like it when Riley Johnson purposely trips him in dodgeball--especially when they're on the same frickin' team. (Ethan's in second grade now, so he's allowed to use that word). (Not around his mom though, but his dad's okay with it). (However, the phrase 'shut up' is one hundred and ten percent off limits). And Cory Willson, frankly, is nearly confirmed to be the spawn of satan. He flicked a meatball at Ethan at lunch on the first day of school--picture day. And that stain took two separate washes to get out of his nice white polo. But Cory is simply a grain of salt on Ethan's plate of problems.  And Jacob Kronwell? Well, Jacob Kronwell is the twelve ounce, medium-rare steak and the side of mashed potatoes. He's probably the steamed vegetables in this metaphor, too. Jacob Kronwell is Ethan Dolan's personal Count Olaf. He is no spawn of Satan, he is Satan, with a capital S.  It started in kindergarten, and it hasn't stopped yet. If anything, it has only gotten worse. It began with exclusion, name-calling, and stealing his pencils without asking. Ethan could tune out being called a girl (and honestly, didn't mind all that much if he's honest). Ethan can't ignore Jacob when he steals his books and throws them into Mr. Franken’s yard, the most feared (and coincidentally--or not--most elderly) neighbor in all of Allentown. Ethan has had to fork over a lot of toys and allowances to pay the library fees. And it didn't stop there. Jacob figured out early on that being the largest kid in second grade included a lot of benefits, serious benefits. Not only was he the best at football (and baseball, and basketball, and dodgeball), but he was really good at wrestling. Ethan would know; he's been the test subject of Jacob's poorly rehearsed WWE moves since Jacob discovered America's most violent live-action soap opera. But Jacob's getting more creative every month, and now that he's seen A Christmas Story, Ethan's been forced to stick his tongue to a pole in the middle of a New Jersey winter and, subsequently, Ethan's been sent home with half of a (very bloody) tongue. Jacob wasn't generous enough to let his mutilated tongue heal before he made him do it again. Grayson's lucky--so lucky--that he can play football. And it is ironic--so ironic--that Grayson gets off scot-free because of it. It's a god blessed frickin' miracle that Grayson hasn't been mistaken for Ethan and been given a swirly yet. Or had a huge chunk cut out of his hair with scissors. Or been trapped in a locker. Ethan's practically defenseless; he doesn't have many friends (besides Grayson, Mom, Dad, and Cam) and he's pretty small, and Jacob knows that. That's what makes Ethan such easy prey. And he's created this stigma towards Ethan that's circulated through the whole school at this point. He overheard him telling Holly Brinkins that he picks and eats his boogers. No one wants to be friends with that kind of outcast, not even kindergarteners--and they actually pick and eat their boogers. Ethan's not too lonely though. He already has all he needs: his family, a colossal stack of fifth-grade-reading-level books (and he's only eight!), and Ginger, the frickin' best dog in the whole wide world. His mom let him pick out a dog from the local humane society so that he'd have his very own friend, and it was the best gift ever. So who needs friends or school lunch on most days? Jacob can eat two helpings all he wants, Ethan doesn't even like the school's mystery meat. - "What'd'ya wanna do when you get older, E?" Grayson asks as they hike up the alpine mountain in the forest behind their house. Ethan knows it's technically a hill, and not even a big one at that, but listen: he just discovered the word 'alpine' and it sounds kinda cool on his tongue, and he's got chicken legs. It feels like Mount Everest to him. "The King of Narnia, no doubt," he responds, a wheeze in his words and an ache in his calves. The walk to their hidden (and super cool) basin seems to stretch longer every single day. Grayson's cut out for this with his quarterback physique--even if it is only little league--but Ethan... Ethan's a little bit of a 'NAF.' Jacob told him so. "Ethan," Grayson grumbles, twisting his head towards him to pointedly roll his eyes. "I'm serious. Be a little more realistic." "I don't know Grayson, what do you want to be?" Ethan asks. "Tom Brady." "I see you're taking a pragmatic approach as well," Ethan scoffs, kicking a stray rock into the jungle. Sometimes Ethan sits outside in this forest of his and reads and pretends the bluejays that chirp are really some tropical parrots from Lord of the Flies. In all reality, he could sit inside next to their new parakeet, Gizmo, and get the same effect, but he's decided to permanently hate that bird ever since they had to get rid of Ginger. He's been bitter ever since. He doesn't care if Grayson can't control the fact that he's allergic. "See," Grayson sighs, halting in the dirt path, "when you say shit like 'pragmatic' you make me wanna to kick you. I don't even know what that means." Grayson and Ethan are not allowed to say words like 'shit', 'fuck', 'damn', or 'Jesus' yet, and certainly not phrases like 'ass-clown', but they’ve made a sworn truce to never tattle. They even spit and shook hands, so it's practically motherfuckin' law.  Ethan scowls at him. "Probably cause you're dyslexic." Grayson is already winding up when Ethan cowers, and Grayson knows to just give it up. Ethan deals with enough during the school year.  "E, I'm just saying. If you didn't say words like that, maybe you wouldn't get beat up. Well, at least, not by me," Grayson hurries out, knowing it's a sore subject, Ethan getting beat up. "Oh right, because that's the reason I get my ass kicked," Ethan grumbles, trudging past Grayson. Grayson is quick to catch up, following on Ethan's heels like a troubled puppy. "Look, all I wanted to know was what you wanted to be when you were older." Ethan knows Grayson doesn't mean to be mean. Ethan thinks most kids actually don't mean to be mean; it's sixth grade, everybody's already got their friend groups. It's not that anybody's excluding him at this point, it's just that no one's including him. People discarded the term 'cooties' a long time ago, and nobody thinks he picks and eats his boogers anymore. People just grew up together without Ethan. He's adjusted. He's alright. But Jacob's still a fucking asshole. He isn't violent anymore--he abandoned hair pulling, foot stomping, and locker stuffing around fourth grade when Ethan got to be as big as him. He's just mean. He leans up behind him and tells him that Chloe Krass will never like him back and that Grayson would never be friends with him if he wasn't forced to be. And it sucks, because it's true. It is absolutely true. He'd rather give Jacob his lunch for the rest of his life than have him stomp on his heart. Ethan's sensitive--he always has been. And you know what? It's dumb that people feed off of his sensitivity. It's fucking bullshit.  "Gonna make fun of me?" Ethan tests, giving Grayson a sideways glance and lifting his chin protectively. "No," Grayson insists.  "Alright. I... I wanna write books," Ethan admits, his chin lifted high in the air for some faux-confidence. He casts a glance at Grayson and finds that Grayson's face has disappointment painted all over it. Grayson's brows are drawn tight together, ready to chastise him, and he's opened his mouth to say, "Ethan," irritably.  "And if you don't like that," Ethan growls out quickly, "then you can go fuck yourself, Grayson." Grayson's shock is all Ethan needs to prove he's figured out a loophole to this drama, and Ethan speeds off towards the pond feeling a little bigger, a little stronger, and a hell of a lot tougher. - Ethan's underneath his comforter with his head buried under his pillow, his entire body numb. It feels like a dream, or maybe a nightmare, what happened today. "Mom, it wasn't his fault! You know how terrible Jacob is to him," Grayson defends in the kitchen, screaming frustratedly. "Jacob Kronwell's father is threatening to sue, Grayson. Do you think they're going to take the side of the kid who beat another kid to a bloody pulp? This is so much bigger than you think it is," his mom hisses back, slapping her palm against the granite table. "Lord knows what will happen. Your brother's definitely expelled. We can't afford to be sued." He can hear his mother's voice crackle with tears. He doesn't want her to cry. He doesn't even know how it happened. One moment he was washing his hands in the boys bathroom, the next he was being circled, the next he was having his head shoved into the bowl of a toilet for the hundredth time, and then a moment later he had Jacob on the ground with blood gushing from his nose. And he just kept kicking, and kicking, and kicking until he felt the principal dragging him out of the bathroom. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and the part of his brain surged out with how unfair his life in Allentown has been so far, and he just let go of all the anger pent up inside him. Jacob had been torturing him for eight years, and for what? Why? It was so fucking unfair. He knows what he did was wrong, but he doesn't really regret it. Not at all, actually.  "Mom, you don't get it! Jacob's the worst!" Grayson yelled still, crying himself. Everybody was crying and it was all Ethan's fault. "Your father's going to have to find a new job," his mom whined. "your brother's going to be expelled. I don't know what we're going to do. I don't know what we're going to do," she pressed on, her voice shaking.  Ethan felt like his chest was caving, or his stomach was twisting into an impossibly tight knot, or his skin was on fire. Jacob's always been right: Ethan's a fuck up, a waste of space, a piece of shit, trash, garbage, stupid, worthless. "Honey, it's going to be okay," his dad says from the kitchen. "I don't know what we'll do either. But it'll work out." "Are we going to have to change schools?" Cameron asks. "I only have a few months left before graduation, can we just stay? Please?" There's an awkward pause that probably answers the million dollar question: they are going to have to move, Cameron's going to have to graduate with a bunch of strangers, their dad's going to have to find a new job, their mom's going to have to open a different shop. All because of Ethan. All because of Ethan. - "So I just got off the phone with Scott Kronwell and he's decided to drop all charges if we get the hell out of dodge," Ethan's dad says the following Monday. It's just Ethan, his mom, and his dad in the kitchen for lunch; Ethan's been suspended for seven days. Not that he minds; he sort of sees it as an early spring break. Any time spent away from school is good for Ethan. "What's that mean?" his mom asks before she bites into her sandwich. "Well," his dad sighs, pinching his eyes together with his index and thumb fingers. "I told him how a bunch of teachers have been emailing me willing to testify against Jacob for bullying, which is pretty stupid if you ask me, because that means they saw how he was treating E and didn't do shit. I think it spooked Scott, because the guy basically threatened me. Said we have two weeks to move districts or he'll press charges. Such a dick. Ethan, I'm kind of glad you beat up his kid." "Sean," his mom scolds, her lips in a tight line. "Thanks," Ethan mumbles with a faint grin. If his dad approves, he really doesn't regret it. "Luckily, we're in a good place financially to just get up and leave. But no Bora Bora in December," his dad sighs, staring blankly at the table. Ethan knows Cameron's going to be pissed. First, she has to move schools with three months of high school left, then she gets robbed of her dream vacation? Ethan will be sleeping with one eye open. His mom sighs with both relief and grief and lays her head on her arms. "Ethan, no more fighting, okay?" she asks weakly, lifting her head only enough to stare at him with pleading eyes. He never wants to see his mom make that face again. "I won't," Ethan promises, and means it. He never wants to lose control like that again; it's been a week and he still can't remember a damn thing about what happened. He dislikes that side of himself the most--and Ethan hates just about every bit of himself.  - Ethan likes their new house a lot. He gets his own room, it's big, it's old, and it's probably haunted. It's perfect. There's a river in the forest behind this house, too. It's got a waterfall at the beginning, about a mile north of his house, and if he treks down the stream, he can find a cluster of miniature cliffs just waiting to be jumped off of. The river seems deep enough to swim in and venture through and it probably has a ton of cool rocks in the shallower parts. He and Grayson spend most of their summer there unless they're at the local beach like they are now. "I think the kids at our school are scared of you," Grayson says, skipping a slippery stone across the still lake. The boys watch it bounce once, twice, thrice before dipping beneath the water.  "So?" Ethan snipes. He's had to put a lot of work into being scary. He thinks he'll have frown lines by twenty-five if he keeps glaring at everybody. "Well, I don't think you're going to make many friends if you don't say anything to anyone," Grayson shrugs, plucking another rock from the sand and skipping it even farther than the last.  "Not like anyone wants to be my friend anyway," Ethan retorts. That was a stupid thing to say on Grayson's behalf. It seemed like people were afraid of Ethan the moment he stepped foot in Long Valley, but he's beginning to think that might be Ethan's intentions. He gets it; it's better to be feared than bullied, but the boys in their grade are getting more comfortable with him. Grayson's doing just fine. He's already decided he'll play football this coming fall and he's made a few friends through lacrosse, but he's never had problems making friends. "You could always hang out with me and my friends..." Grayson offers meekly. "I heard your friend Carter call me a mute back in May. No thanks," he nips. It's a lost cause, and all Grayson can really do is pray that someone, anyone will befriend Ethan. He's not asking for too much he doesn't think. Is he? 

​​​​​​-

Ethan slides into his seat at the kitchen island, Romeo and Juliet in his grip and a blanket draped around his shoulders. Grayson’s cooking up something terrible—but arguably edible—for them as an after-school snack, rushing around the kitchen far too much for Ethan to focus on the already complicated book. He had heard that girl (Y/N) mumble something negative under her breath when it came to Shakespeare, and he has to agree—his novels were complete garbage.

“So, how was the first day of school,” Grayson sing-songs sardonically, popping his hip out like their mom.

Ethan shrugs lamely, taking a sip of his water. “S’alright.”

“And what about that girl, (Y/N)?” Grayson prods, waggling his eyebrows. Ethan sputters on his water, coughing and encouraging Grayson’s teasing. With a smirk, Grayson continues, “She’s pretty cute, huh? She seems into you.”

Ethan glares at him once he stops hacking, wiping his mouth on the fabric of his blanket. “Not funny,” he says.

She is pretty cute—and pretty kind, too. He couldn’t get it out of his head all day, the way she just asked him about his tattoo—talked to him, with genuine interest and curiosity. And furthermore, she’s smart. He couldn’t believe she’d read the entire list too, willingly. Ethan read it over the summer out of pure boredom and because his dad wouldn’t stop harping him about it, but she seemed like she really enjoyed reading. And she wasn’t a snob about it either, she seemed a little shy and humble—unlike Tanya. Ethan’s already floated off into his own daydream of their first conversation, right in the middle of the hallway with her papers askew when Grayson calls out his name impatiently.

“What?” he grumbles.

“I’m serious dude, she’s into you! Heard her talking to her friends at lunch,” Grayson pushes, raising his eyebrows. “She’s got a crush on you. Big one, too.”

Ethan feels a blush creep up the back of his neck and he scratches it. It’s impossible. It’s simply impossible. ”Shut up," he says, his voice cracky.

Grayson pops a few pieces of bread into the toaster and pushes down on the handle. “No dude, I'm not kidding. Like, all her friends knew about it and they were like, teasing her and stuff. They wanted to hear all about her conversation with you."

Ethan's fighting to keep the shock off his face. A girl like that? Having a crush on a guy like him? It defied all laws of logic.

"Whatever," Ethan chokes out, feeling butterflies parade through his stomach. He doesn’t even know why he’s entertaining the notion with himself—this is frankly pure lunacy.

"She's hot dude. If you knew what was good for you, you would jump on that," Grayson shrugs nonchalantly.

Ethan's cheeks grow even hotter at his comment. With his mouth gaping like a fish’s, he sputters, "I-I'm not going to jump on that, what the fuck Grays-"

"That's not what I meant!" Grayson laughs, shaking his head. "I just mean, she's going to have a bunch of guys' attention. She does seem kind of quiet, though."

Defensively, Ethan thinks, what does that have to do with anything? But, in an effort to stay discreet, he just shrugs for the umpteenth time.

"Whatcha boys talking about?" Ethan's dad asks as he walks into the kitchen, surfing through the refrigerator for a good snack. A flash of heat decorates Ethan’s cheeks again and his eyes widen as he mentally prays, begs, pleads for Grayson to just keep his gigantic mouth shut on this one.

“Ethan’s giant crush,” Grayson teases, squinting smugly at Ethan. Behind his dad's back, Ethan gives Grayson the middle finger and mouths 'fuck you'.

"(Y/N), huh?" his dad replies easily, already well aware of who they’re talking about. Ethan’s jaw just about hits the floor. Grayson begins snickering loudly as he butters his freshly baked toast, and Ethan briefly weighs the pros and cons of vaulting himself over the kitchen island and just strangling him quiet. But before he can make a proper decision, his dad’s continuing. ”Ethan, she's one smart cookie. The whole list! Blew my mind," he says with a shake of his head.

Ethan doesn't note that he himself had also read the list, because he knows it's different. “Yep,” he mutters, tapping his fingers along the granite.

“So you have a crush on her?” his dad asks, peering over his shoulder from where he hovers in the refrigerator’s doorway.  

Ethan says, "No!" the same time Grayson says, "Yes."

"I'll keep that in mind, Kiddo," his dad says.

Ethan just whines, already so very aware of how humiliating it will be to have his dad prod at him. But deep down—deep, deep, deep down—he hopes by some miracle it'll be beneficial because it's true; Ethan would be crazy to not have a crush on her. He already knows he's in deep when he catches himself smiling for the thousandth time that day over their measly conversation in the hall.

-

Ethan’s never been so bored in his life. No, that isn’t true, and yes, it is incredibly dramatic, but he means it, okay? With Grayson at football camp for a week and Cameron working overtime at the ice cream parlor, Ethan’s feeling stir crazy while he stares up at his ceiling fan and watches it spin round and around and around and around. He knows he could go for a swim down by the riverbed, but he’s done that the last two days. And sure, he could shoot hoops in the driveway, but what’s the fun in doing that alone? It’s only been a day and a half since Grayson’s left, and he thinks he might just die before next Monday comes around. He’ll never admit how attached he is to him.

He huffs and he puffs and he sighs and he whimpers, but nothing comes to mind. He feels a frenzy in the pit of his stomach, one that’s begging him to just move, and he hops upright, ready to pace around his room if it means getting some of this energy out. He jumps up and down—even throws in a few jumping jacks just for some spice—but it’s useless; he needs interest.

His mind wonders off to (Y/N) again like it has every single hour of every single day since summer began. He wonders, for the gazillionth time, how she’s spending this unusually hot July day, what she’s doing, where she’s doing whatever she’s doing. Ethan realizes these thoughts only make him antsier because the idea of (Y/N) alone makes him nervous in general, so he smacks his forehead childishly to swat away the thoughts. She’s probably reading. But reading what?

Harry Potter, of course, unless she’s marking off the Composition reading list one by one. But who would want to do that on a day like today? He’s sure she’s spending it with a book in her hand and probably sunning at the local beach, her peers alongside her. She’s quiet, but not unsocial; the gaggle of girls she has are nice—well, nice enough—and murderously loyal, it seems. Ethan approves of her friend group most out of the entire student body; sometimes they say hello to him, and that’s more than 99% of the mass population would ever do for him.

The way she talks about those Harry Potters, Ethan would think they’re magic. Well, duh, he thinks. But they’re children’s books—what could possibly be so good?

Ethan knows what he’s going to do today.

He hauls himself to the local library, a good four miles away (which is more than enough for him to rid himself of some of this boyish energy he has), and checks out the first two books. Then he cracks the spine of the first one and begins reading and walking on his way home.

His first impression is terrible; he hates the Dursleys, and Harry is frankly quite bland. But before he knows it, he’s skimming the pages just to find out what happens next, and then he’s scrunching his nose bitterly at characters he hates and grinning whenever Hagrid is featured in a chapter. He’s decided to hate Severus Snape until his dying breath and he’s almost certain he’d be sorted into Slytherin and he has full intentions to name his first child Ron whether it’s a boy or a girl—and it’s only been five chapters. He gets it—he totally freakin’ gets why she loves these books so much. He feels like a kid again. He’s so lost in the plot that he brings his book to the dinner table and flips pages between forkfuls.

“Ethan!” his mom shouts, smacking her palm against the table.

Ethan jumps, startled. “What?” he asks innocently, his heart still racing from his abrupt interruption.

"Honey, I've called your name eight times!" she laughs, eyeing him disbelievingly.

"Sorry," he mumbles around a bite of steak, already turning back to his story.

"Nuh-uh, it's dinner time, put the book away," his mom warns, a quirk in her eyebrow and discipline clear in her voice. Ethan shrinks in his chair and dog-ears his page, reluctant but compliant.

"What are you reading?" his dad asks, tilting his head to try and make out the title. "Oh, Miss (Y/N)'s favorite book, I see," he smirks.

Ethan frowns as his jaw falls. "How did you-"

"Oh please, you two weren't all that quiet when you were flirting up a storm in my English class. I'm pretty sure I know just as much about her as you do," he snorts, shaking his head and shoveling in another bite of meat.

Ethan pouts into his plate, embarrassed and annoyed. So what if he wanted to read her favorite books? They were friends. He was allowed.

"Are you talking about (Y/N)?" Cameron pipes up from across the table, a smug smile on her lips.

"Save it, Cam," Ethan grumbles, feeling sour.

"So you don't want to hear all about her visit to the ice cream parlor today?" Cameron quips, speaking theatrically loftily. "Because her friends sure had a lot to say about you..."

Ethan ponders over whether he should play it cool or embrace his excitement. "What'd they say?" he squeaks quickly, sounding more desperate than he's ever heard himself.

His family chuckles at his eagerness and eyes one another. Normally this would really irk him, but he has bigger interests.

"Oh, just that she talks about you all the time," Cameron sings. "She didn't say as much as I said, though."

Ethan's blood runs cold in his system. "W-what did you say?"

"Oh, just that you never shut up about her and that you have a huge crush on her," Cameron smirks, squinting evilly at him across the table.

Ethan's read Dante's Inferno and he is absolutely, positively, 1000% certain that he has just entered the ninth ring of hell. Oh my God. Oh my God.

"Cameron!" he shrieks, hopping from his spot. He doesn't even realize he's grabbed his steak knife along for defense, but suddenly everyone's rising from their seats and demanding he calms down. Ethan feels hot tears spring in his eyes; his friend, his only willing friend knows about his stupid dumb crush. She's never going to talk to him again. She's never going to-

Ethan thinks he's going to pass out.

"Dude, chill out! I already told you she likes you too!" Cameron shouts back, her hands raised defensively.

Ethan's sensitive. His whole family knows it, but even they're shocked when his bottom lip begins to wobble and a tear slips down his cheek. He's so glad Grayson isn't here to see him cry like a fucking baby.

"E, c'mon," Cameron coaxes, looking at him with bewilderment. "It's not that big of a deal!"

"Easy for you to say!" Ethan screams, collapsing in his chair. She's going to hate him, she's going to hate him, she's going to hate him. She does some charity work, befriends the freak, and then she realizes she has to deal with his obsessive crush? Why wouldn't she walk away? This isn't even fair--he would have kept his mouth shut about his stupid crush for life if it meant keeping her as a friend. "She's my only friend!"

The dinner table falls quiet; Ethan's unpopularity has always been the elephant in the room. Ethan's scrubbing the hot tears away from his cheeks and grinding his teeth together to keep the emotion better at bay but it isn't any use; the thought of (Y/N) joining the army of people absolutely disgusted with Ethan is too much; he has to cry.

He knows Cam had good intentions; she's just being a sister. But what's done is done, and he doesn't think he can look (Y/N) in the eye ever again.

Cameron slips out of her chair and over to Ethan, cuddling his frame close to hers. Ethan cries into her shoulder pathetically, and he knows this is all so unusual for his family, seeing him weep so openly like this, but this is just too much. He doesn't know what he'll do when he sees her in a month. He thinks about homeschooling.

"Ethan," Cameron whispers. "She looked excited. She clearly likes you too."

Ethan shoves away at her shoulder, angry all over again. "Cameron, don't try and soothe the wound. The damage is done."

Cameron scoffs, stands, and folds her arms over her chest. "Okay Princess, I was being gentle, but now you're just being a prima donna. She likes you. Accept that you're likable."

"That's not even funny, Cameron," Ethan whimpers, another wave of self-hatred washing ashore.

"Honey," his mom coos, "(Y/N) would be very lucky to have a boy like you."

Ethan's getting angrier by the second, and he's about ready to stomp off with his plate and his book and his pride. The realization that his family has just seen him sob over a girl makes his cheeks melt with shame.

"And you would be lucky to have a girl like (Y/N)," his dad pipes up. "I'm telling you guys, her Scarlett Letter analysis was just out of this w-"

Cameron groans loudly, stuffing her face in her palms. "Would you shut up about her Scarlett Letter analysis!"

Lisa gasps beside her. "Cameron June! Do not speak to your father like that."

"Well seriously, he mentions it like every day!" she quacks back.

"Well, it's worth talking about! I mean really Ethan, that girl is going to win a Pulitzer Prize one day and I want her last name to be Dolan when she does," his dad urges, raising his eyebrow and biting a forkful of steak.

Ethan snorts goodheartedly, still anxious but exhausted from emotion more than anything. In an effort to escape the conversation and his family, he excuses himself and tucks himself in his room, ready to devour his book again.

He loves this book. He loves this book. It's maybe the best he's ever read. He's flying through the pages so quickly he has to reread some parts to really enjoy it properly. It's edging ten in the evening and he's just about to venture into the Forbidden Forest with Harry and Malfoy when he hears a soft knock on his door.

"Hey," Cameron mutters, peaking her head in.

Ethan folds his novel in his lap, prepared to have a forced heart to heart with his offender. "Mom send you up here?" he asks rhetorically.

Cameron cracks a grin and nods. "Yeah, but I wanted to say sorry anyway. So..." she trails off shifting between her feet. "...Sorry."

"Thanks," Ethan snorts.

Cameron hobbles over and plops herself on the edge of his bed, plucking the story from his comforter. "These are such good books," she nods, leafing through a few pages to get an idea of where he is in the plot.

"I know, I can't believe I've never read them. The way (Y/N) talks about these books, you'd think they hung the stars in the sky," Ethan murmurs, chuckling to himself.

Cameron purses her lips and gives him a sidelong glance. "She seems pretty cool, sort of shy, but sweet."

Ethan's brows furrow together. "I don't get why people always say that like it's a bad thing," he deadpans, encouraging her to rethink her statement. "She's shy, so what? She's really nice."

Cameron giggles and shakes her head. "Look at you, all defensive," she prods, ruffling his hair. Ethan's beginning to regret ever inviting her into his room. Cameron smiles more to herself and says, "I'm happy you have a crush, it's, er... healthy. And I think she's a good person to have a crush on--she's super cute."

Ethan laughs to himself and decides to let his guard down, if only for a moment. "Tell me about it."

Cameron's lips spread so wide her teeth peek out from under them. The two are quiet for a minute, and it isn't awkward. Ethan doesn't hate his sister, even if she ruined his only friendship.

As if reading his thoughts, Cameron stirs the pot some more. ”Ethan, she likes you, okay? And maybe you don't see that, but I know it," Cameron swears, grabbing his hand where it lays on the bed.

Ethan yanks it away, uncaring of his blunt rejection. "You don't know shit," he grouches.

"E," she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Trust me, she does. I'm a girl, I know how they act. And you know what? Quit being so bitter. No one likes a pessimist."

I know, Ethan thinks, That's the problem.

"So suck it up, or... or you'll have to deal with my two friends, lefty and righty," Cameron threatens, waving her fists around 'threateningly'. Ethan thinks she needs a lesson or two on intimidation.

He chuckles, which clearly bruises her ego, because she begins tickling him torturously, and after half an hour of a tickling war, all is forgiven. Cameron eventually deserts him with his book and Ethan returns to his own little literature world, more excited than he’s ever been about a series.

-

Miraculously, when Ethan sees (Y/N) on the first day of school, she doesn’t hate him or his newly dyed purple stripe. She actually calls him hot, and Ethan knows that he’ll absolutely never get over it. He’s made it through a month of school with her by his side, the two as close as what he imagines a best friend would be like. He hasn’t had one besides Grayson, and he knows that that doesn’t count. But things are going alright, and he couldn’t be more thankful.

Well, except for every other person involved in his school. Since everyone had survived their first year of high school, they were much less skittish and much meaner. Ethan’s had comments thrown his way every single day since the start, and he’s even been shoved once or twice, just like he’s seen in movies. He’s seriously wondering if they’ll lock him in a locker soon. He hasn’t experienced that since eighth grade.

But Ethan isn’t going to let that happen. He’s bulked up over the summer—gained a few inches and more than a dozen pounds—and he knows how to fight. Obviously, bites a voice in the back of his head. You almost killed a kid.

Ethan worries about the day when (Y/N) finds that out, that he'd nearly been expelled for almost murdering Jacob Kronwell at the innocent age of thirteen. He shudders at the thought and stuffs it down, down, down and just prays she never finds out.

Career day is, by far, the least interesting school-fueled 'holiday' Ethan can imagine, and he's considering spirit day and all its pep-fest activities. Career day is just tedious, plain and simple. It annoys the faculty, it annoys the students, and infinitely more importantly, it annoys Ethan because he knows what he wants to do. He wants to write books, and Long Valley was seriously lacking world-renowned authors and best-selling novelists, which meant the other teachers, scrambling for anything to jam-pack his day, would tell him to visit the journalism booth or the English teacher division, which in itself was completely useless. His own dad was an English teacher--if he had questions, he could ask them over spaghetti tonight.   

And then there was that bit where he had to listen to certain people drone on and on about their solid, reliable plans of being 'The Next Michael Jordan' or 'The Next Tom Brady' or, most unrealistic of all, 'The Next Kim Kardashian.' Ethan seriously doubts that if they don't have a booth for creative writing, they won't have a booth for the profound artistry of face-tuning or the ambitious marketing strategies for FitTea Tummy. But that's just Ethan.

It's not like he's going to find out anyway; he plans to lock himself away in his dad's quaint English room for most of the afternoon, lower the lights, draw the blinds, and stuff himself in the beanbag tucked in the corner just for him and finish Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. He has been fervently reading them ever since he stole the first copy from the library, and he's really edging towards the climax of this one. He's dug it out every spare second, reading between class periods and during his lunch. They truly are very, very good books.

When he arrives at school that morning, it as chaotic as he had imagined; every student is swarming about the halls, jabbing about what professions they'll bore themselves with for a few hours. He assumes they'll be too preoccupied to bother with their typical harsh stares and obvious gossip, but he's hardly made it to his locker when Cole Eptom eyes him quizzically from a few slots down. "Hey Dolan," he calls, nodding his head.

Ethan debates momentarily over whether he should tune him out or give Cole the benefit of the doubt and engage in what could only be small talk or torture. Suppressing a sigh, Ethan turns to look Cole's way with a raised eyebrow.

"That pink hair's fucking queer," Cole sneers, shutting his locker and marching off with his monochromatic Career Day pamphlet and his enormous, inflated ego.

It shouldn't bother Ethan. He knew last night when he spontaneously bought a box of hot pink hair dye and painted the bleached tuff above his eyes that he'd get a few stares. He thinks he's seen Cole wear the same pair of basketball shorts every day for the past month, and Cole himself said that jeans would only be reserved for five star restaurants. Cole doesn't know shit about fashion, and furthermore, Cole's hideous. And mean. His opinion shouldn't bother Ethan.

It does.

Ethan's feeling sourer than normal today, with Career Day's boisterous chatter infiltrating his ears (even after he'd stuffed them with headphones and extremely loud music) and the unending sly and taunting comments about his hair. It felt like every pair of eyes that existed in this building were zeroing in on the fuchsia tuft blanketing his forehead.

Queer. Queer. Queer. Queer.

He heard Cole's comment over and over and over again in his head and had to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to keep his nausea at bay. What was he thinking, dying his hair bubblegum pink? What was he thinking? He wasn't. Ethan never thinks, he just does, and that is why he didn't have many friends. Impulsive and stupid were such a terrible combination. Ethan wouldn't touch himself with a ten-foot pole.

He's being harsh on himself, he knows he is, but he can't help it now. Fuck, it feels like his clothes don't fit him right, like they're too small and woven with needle-sharp fragments of glass. And it's hot in his sweatshirt, too warm and suffocating and it's boiling beneath the base of his neck, right where his collar starts, and only then does he realize just how tight it feels around his throat-

"Hello!" (Y/N) calls, looking bewildered. She smacks his arm as she sidles up next him by his locker. "How the fuck can't you hear me?"

Ethan's not one for cliches, but he almost immediately feels at least half of the weight burdening his shoulders float off, off, off at the sight of her. She's similarly cozied up in an oversized sweatshirt, the sleeves falling past the tips of her fingers, and he wonders briefly if her hands are cold. He hopes not.

"Sorry," Ethan mumbles, chewing on his lip. "I'm just... stressed."

Ethan thinks stressed might be a better word than anxious, because then she'd ask questions because she cares. She cares a lot about Ethan, and he knows it, and he feels the weight drift off his shoulders some more.

"Well, your hair looks great," she says, blushing terribly. Her cheeks are scorned a bright pink, nearly mimicking the neon tuft dangling above Ethan's eyes.

"No it doesn't," he grumbles, glaring up at the strands.

"No, it does," she pushes, though her voice is squeaky and weak. "H-Hot pink for a hot guy, right?"

And then her face is scrunching up, embarrassment etching her features adorably, and slapping her palm against her forehead. She looks tortured with her eyes screwed shut and her neck flushed a deep red, she's tucking in on herself with humiliation and Ethan's hardly able to contain his grin. He doesn't try, just lets his lips split over his teeth, big and wide, and chuckles.

"Hot pink for a hot guy," Ethan agrees, smirking with kind eyes down at her shielded figure.

She peaks through her fingers to glare at him and smacks his shoulder, and she looks so sweet and gentle. His heart begins thumping and thumping in his chest, so loud it drowns out all the snide comments he's had thrown at him this morning. He chokes back the feelings, whatever feelings these are, and shakes his head, leaning back against his locker confidently.

"Oh, fuck off," she mumbles, crossing her arms.

"You sound more and more like me every day," he laughs, poking her side teasingly. "Lemon girl."

"Not a chance," she replies loftily, rolling her eyes. Ethan loves this side of her more than anything; it is sound proof that she is completely comfortable around him, despite the way she acts so constantly nervous. "I actually wake up on the right side of the bed sometimes, which can't be said for you."

In return, Ethan rolls his own eyes with a smile. "Right," he snorts, "but today is clearly not one of those days."

"No," she groans, falling forward and pressing her forehead on the ball of his shoulder. "I feel so sick. Feel my forehead. Sympathize."

Ethan laughs outright and scrubs a hand down her back. "Poor (Y/N)," he simpers dramatically. "Don't tell me it's the plague."

She burrows her head deeper into his figure and he prays she can't feel the way his heart rate picks up considerably. "Just might be."

"Look, if you die on me, I'll have to befriend that Tara chick from Comp just to spite you in the afterlife," he says, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

With an absent-mind he realizes, uncaringly, that they probably look quite cozy to any of the students passing by in the hallway, with Ethan cradling her comfortably and her nose buried in his collarbone. He doesn't mind. He doesn't mind at all.

"You wouldn't dare," she threatens, her words muffled by the fabric of his hoodie. "I'd fuckin' haunt you until you died, and then I'd kick your ass from beyond the grave."

Ethan's glad she's tucked into him so she can't see the way he's biting back laughter.

"You know I could kick your ass, right?" she pushes.

"Of course," he complies.

All too soon she's uncurling from him, wiping her sleeve over her nose, and sniffling. "What career day things are you going to?" she asks, digging her pamphlet out of her backpack and scanning it.

"Dunno," he says, shrugging lamely. He knows he isn't attending any of them, but he's saving his breath. "What about you?"

She frowns bitterly and squints at the paper. "You're kidding me. There's a booth for Veterinary Acupuncture but not a single booth for creative writing?" She has disgust painted all over her pretty features when she says, "E, I'm sorry. That's fucked up."

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?" Ethan asks surprisedly.

"Cause, I know you wanna write when you get older and it's twisted that they don't have anything catering to that. I mean seriously they- oh my god, they have a booth for Clown Academy but not-!"

"How'd you know that?" Ethan asks with a furrow in his brow.

He can't ever remember sharing that with anyone, not besides Grayson, and that was years ago. He wouldn't share that with anyone. He'd never want to.

"Says right here on the brochure, Clown Academy, right above Counseling."

"No, not- not the clown academy thing, that I wanted to write."

She lifts a brow, puzzled. "You told me," she elaborates obviously. "That's why you got that little pen tattoo next to Grayson's birthday, right? You told me on the last day of school last year."

He did. He remembers it now, faint and vague, but he's gobsmacked she'd remember such a thing. Almost as gobsmacked as he is that he told her.

"Right..." he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. He ducks his head and says, "Yeah, no, it's stupid that they don't have anything."

"Stupid's one word for it," she continues, shaking her head and glowering at the sheet she's holding. "Kind of bothers me too since I want to do something with writing."

"Really?" Ethan asks, his head popping up to meet her eyes. "You want to write? Like what? Like journalism? Or like books? Or-"

"Easy tiger, you're talking to a girl half drugged up on DayQuil," she giggles, quirking a brow.

Ethan feels himself flood with embarrassment once he realizes how ridiculously giddy he sounded just then. He just cares a lot, okay? And he bets her writing is simply stunning, he could probably read it forever if she let-

Ethan feels panic rise up in his throat and all through his chest when he realizes there's no prospect of "forever" with a girl like her. Ethan reminds himself that this friendship is a stroke of luck--practically a miracle, considering everyone else sees what Ethan sees in himself--and that he can't even pray for anything more than a high school friendship with her. And that's that.

(Y/N) is completely oblivious to his storm of emotions as she says, "Dunno yet, could be something with romance--I'm big on cheesy novels," with a giggle. "But I've got three more years of high school, maybe by then I'll have dreams of law or med school or being a swimming pig island guide. We'll see."

Maybe you'll be mine, Ethan thinks before he can stop himself. He nearly slaps himself in the face. Stop it, we just had this conversation, he thinks. And after thinking that, he realizes he's talking to himself. Freak.

"But anyway, I'm gonna drop my stuff off at my locker and then head to the gym, wanna walk me down?" she offers.

Ethan, as much as he would absolutely love even another second with her, realizes he must ditch her for that cozy book nook in his dad's room that'll host him all day. So, he says, "Would, but I've gotta piss and then talk to my dad."

Her nose scrunches adorably and he feels his stomach swoop. "Could you be less, uh, gross?"

"Never, you love it," he shrugs.

Momentarily, her friendly expression caves and she looks as though she's been caught in the act of something with her flushed skin and doe eyes. "Right," she squeaks. "Well, I'll see you around."

The two part ways and Ethan immediately jogs to his dad's room feeling the best kind of tired and excited to snuggle up under the blanket he's stashed under his dad's desk. He burrows himself in the bean bag and cracks the spine of his Harry Potter and gets to work, ignorant to the hours that slip by or the chaos that is most definitely ensuing in the gymnasium.

His dad stops in once or twice to check on him and backhandedly scold him for ditching such a fantastic and beneficial expo, saying things like 'It's such a shame kids don't attend such a well-stacked organization,' and 'the journalism department has some gifted staff members that have such fantastic brochures.' It is snooze worthy for Ethan, especially in comparison to the duel between Harry and Voldemort that he's reading about.

Around noon Ethan is forced to get up and stretch, moan and groan as the joints in his back pop and shift from his fetal position in his bean bag, because, for starters, he's absolutely famished and, for enders, he's just finished one of the best books he's ever read in his whole entire life. He can totally understand why (Y/N) gushes about them so much.

On his walk to the library, he thinks about the Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Universal Studios in Florida, and wonders how much two plane tickets and passes would be, just to see her face light up when she takes her first sip of butterbeer. Or better yet, when she flicks her newly purchased wand around in her newly purchased robes and jumps up and down like the kid she is at heart. Or, even better yet, how she'd spill every bit of knowledge she had about the books before, during, and after their little adventure, all throughout the plane ride there and all throughout the plane ride home. It's just too perfect--it is exactly what she deserves.

And then Ethan catches himself grinning almost wolfishly his smile is so big, and he shakes his head like a cartoon character trying to rid himself of these crazed thoughts, because there are so many complications. One, he is broke as can be, two, his mother is incredibly strict and would never let him whisk away his giant crush to paradise, some 15 states away, and three, he doubts (Y/N) would ever want to go with him. He imagines she'd want to go--just not with him. And that is understandable, so as his fantasy explodes with a mournful pop!, he hurries into the library and grabs the cleanest copy of Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix and dashes out. Clearly, the smell of books--which he has already associated with (Y/N) for some unrelated reason--is too intoxicating for a clear mind.

After chomping away at the lunch he'd packed that morning, Ethan again nestles himself in his bean bag chair, ready to float from reality between the pages of what is undoubtedly his next favorite book. However, just as he's flicking open the cover, a tentative knock sounds at the door.

"Mr. Dolan?" calls a voice, one sweet like honey, from outside the room. "Mr. Dolan, you in there?"

Ethan quickly shoves the book underneath the bean bag before clearing throat and lowering his voice comically, "Come in."

"Mr. Dolan, I'm sorry to interrupt your lun-" (Y/N) stops dead in her tracks when she realizes there is no Mr. Dolan, well, no Sean by any means, but that Ethan's looking at her expectantly. "Where's Mr. Dolan?" she asks.

"He's right here," Ethan says, gesturing to his comfy figure in his comfy bean bag.

Her lips crack into a grin and she says, "No, you dummy, I mean your dad. Is he on his lunch break? And why are you in here? I was wondering why I hadn't seen you at Career Day."

Ethan shrugs lamely and surveys her; if he didn't think she looked like an angel, he would have thought she looked like hell: she had deep, dark circles beneath her eyes and her skin had paled even more throughout the day, the base of her nose scrubbed from rubbing it all day and her lips parted and cracked from mouth-breathing. Her clothes even look more rumply, like she's been curling up every spare second she's gotten.

"Go home," is all he says, his voice cracking embarrassingly. "You look like you're dying."

"Ugh, I am," she complains, folding her face in between her two palms. "I seriously think I might have something bad. My body's killing me."

"Then go home," Ethan encourages again, frowning sadly.

"Can't," she says, "got things to do."

Ethan rolls his eyes irritatedly, annoyed with her ambition when she is so obviously sick. "No, I'm not asking."

"Me neither," she shrugs. "Not like I can drive home anyway, I just have to tough today out."

"Well... well, don't go back to career day, the last thing you need is all that activity. And you could get a lot of people sick..." Ethan mumbles, fumbling for a decent excuse to just get her to stay in this room with him so he can ensure she doesn't die or something. Obviously.

"I'll be fine, I don't have another option," she says, sniffling.

"Hang out in here!" Ethan blurts, his words loud and unpredicted. "I- I mean, you can take the bean bag, and I'll lay on the floor, and I can set up a movie on the SmartBoard or something, okay? You shouldn't deal with all that- that activity for Career Day, and like I said, you could still get people sick."

She's watching him with amusement, and Ethan feels his embarrassment grow. But soon enough, she's asking still, "And what about you? What if I get you sick?"

Ethan could not care less about her getting him sick. He doesn't think he's ever felt so apathetic about a risk. "I'm just one person," he defends weakly.

"But an important one," she singsongs, but she's already working her way over to his beanbag. "But I'm sold. Put on a John Hughes movie--Pretty In Pink!" she cries, clapping her hands. "Just like you! Because of the new, pretty and pink hair you've got. Get it?"

Ethan's almost forgotten his latest hair alteration, and chuckles. She thinks he's pretty in pink?

As he's clicking away at the computer and setting up her film of choice, she asks, "Hey, is this your Harry Potter book?!"

He spins around to find her holding the copy he had stuffed under the beanbag and feels nervous for some reason. He hasn't told her he's reading the series, because he likes the way she explains things when she thinks he doesn't already know them, like a really excited kid. So, he says "Psh, no!”

As if that wasn't the shittiest way to tell a lie.

It doesn't seem dishonest to her, because she says, "Ugh, E, you gotta read them. Whoever was reading this has great taste."

"Not much of a reader," he snorts sarcastically, finally starting the film and heading back over to her to curl up on the floor.

"Whatever," she laughs, patting his head--too kind to ever smack him hard enough. "I'll read them to you. You have to find out how great these books are."

Ethan thinks about how wonderful that would be, her reading to him, and feels his heart flutter. Ethan Dolan is a fifteen year old boy who has just felt his heart flutter. He knows he's in much, much too deep. "Alright," he squeaks. "I'm holding you to that."

And then they watch the movie, and Ethan isn't even bothered when she coughs through half of it.

-

“Is it weird to get (Y/N) a present?” Ethan blurts as he waltzes into Grayson’s room, opting to pace back and forth anxiously instead of seating himself on his bed.

Grayson yanks out of one his earbuds and cocks a brow. He was all snuggled up under his comforter and enjoying the ache that comes with an overstuffed belly after Thanksgiving, ready to doze off any minute. He would be annoyed with Ethan, but he looks like a nervous wreck as he walks back and forth across his rug, and Grayson really likes (Y/N). Not to mention, he knows how much (Y/N) means to Ethan, as a friend and as the love of his life, so he knows this is serious.

“Um…” Grayson mumbles, processing his question.

“Um means no, right?” Ethan squawks, halting in his footsteps. “Right? I just- I know that it’s dumb, but listen, I have the perfect idea and-“

Grayson laughs in disbelief and shakes his head. “You’ve got it so bad.”

“I know!” Ethan growls viciously, and Grayson’s almost scared. “I know, okay! But that’s not what this is about!”

Grayson isn’t trying to be rude, he’s just stating the obvious. Anyone that’s almost in tears over stress because of a Christmas present—with the holiday still a month away—clearly cares a lot. Ethan’s never bought Christmas presents for anyone else but Gray, Cam, their parents, and their grandparents before, so this is a whole new milestone for him. But, Grayson realizes nobody else has ever really cared about Ethan. “Okay, okay,” Grayson says softly, removing his other earbud and folding his hands on his lap. “What’s your idea?”

Ethan whines and scampers over to his bed, looking more vulnerable than Grayson’s ever seen him in his life. Once Ethan’s seated criss-crossed, he takes a deep breath he begins rambling again. “So, her favorite books ever are the Harry Potters, and JK Rowling just came out with limited house edition versions of the Philospher’s Stone. I just think that’d be so perfect for her—a limited edition of her favorite book. But here’s the problem, I don’t know what house she’s in! And I can’t ask, because if I ask then-“

“Well, how about I ask her?” Grayson offers, fighting a crooked smile off his lips.

“No,” Ethan says, shaking his head. “No, this needs to be a complete surprise. You’ve never even talked about the Harry Potters with her. I just need to get them all.”

Grayson blinks in shock. “Get them all? That’s your solution? E, that’s like at least $80.”

“$100,” Ethan mumbles around the nail he’s nibbling on. “Not including shipping and handling.”

“$100! You can’t drop $100 on (Y/N)’s Christmas present!” Grayson stammers, bewildered and gobsmacked.

“Well, why not?” Ethan grumbles, glaring at his lap.

“Ethan,” Grayson breathes, his face collapsing in his hands. “Why do you want to spend $100 on her Christmas present?” Ethan shrugs his shoulders lazily, distancing himself from Grayson emotionally. He can practically see the guards going up. He sighs as he says, “I’m not judging bro, I just want to know.”

“She’d just really like it,” Ethan elaborates, as if that wasn’t obvious.

“She’d probably really like a bar of chocolate, Ethan. Anything you get her she’ll love. Do you really want to make a dent in your bank account like that over some girl?”

Grayson can see he’s struck a nerve, and he knows just how before the words even come out of Ethan’s mouth. “She isn’t just some girl, are you serious? This is my best friend. This is my only friend.”

Grayson scratches at the back of his neck. “Is this to make her like you? Do you think she’s going to like if you buy her stuff?”

It came out wrong. It came out wrong, but he still meant it. What does Ethan think he’s doing?

“Fuck you, Grayson,” Ethan bites out before hopping off the mattress and stomping towards the door.

“Bro, come back here, you know that’s not what I- Ethan, stop being a bitch,” Grayson grumbles, sliding out from his bed and chasing Ethan into his own room. The walk is uncomfortable with Grayson’s overstuffed gut, but he knows he needs to tend to Ethan’s giant, sensitive heart. Upon arrival, Grayson finds that Ethan’s actually locked the door on him. He knocks once, twice, three times without an answer before he just bangs his head against the wood. “You’re such a child.”

“And you’re such a dick,” Ethan snarks from the other side.

Ethan knows he’s overreacting, but Grayson knows better than to say things like that; he’s done it before and received the same treatment. It’s not fair that everyone always treats her like she’s average or disposable—Ethan would buy her the world if he could, and Grayson damn well knows it. Moreover, Ethan doesn’t expect anything in return from her; not a gift, not a relationship, not even a thanks. He just loves that he has someone to care for, even platonically. He’s never had this kind of opportunity. He’s never had this kind of friendship.

“Look, I’m sorry about calling your friend, er, ‘some girl’. And I’m sorry for the other part, too. But seriously E, do you really want to spend all that money? You don’t even have a job. This is like, birthday money and stuff…” Grayson tries, wincing.

“Yep,” Ethan replies flatly.

Exhaling a deep sigh, Grayson shakes his head against the wood. “Have you made up your mind?” he asks rhetorically.

Ethan doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to.

After a pause, Grayson sighs once more. “I’ll grab your wallet.”

-

“Ethan,” his dad calls, stomping his feet off of snow on the welcome mat in the foyer. “Gotta gift for ya.”

Ethan frowns where he sits on the couch with Grayson by his side, a pair of festive elf hats adorning both of their heads for Christmas day. “Me?” he asks incredulously, spinning in his spot.

“Is there another Ethan living in this house?” his dad asks with an eye roll before tossing him the package. It’s about as big as a shoebox, if not a little bigger, and there’s a glinting metallic red bow on the face of its white wrapping paper. He knows immediately that it’s from (Y/N) somehow.

He feels nervous. What if she was returning the books for some reason? It wasn’t heavy enough for that, but maybe she kept her preferred house and returned the rest… or maybe it’s just a letter softly letting him down, that his present was out of line and that she’s seen through his lies this past year and that she knows for certain he’s in love with her. Ethan let’s his mind whirl around torturously for a full minute.

Grayson can tell what Ethan’s thinking as he watches his brother stare at the wrapping paper with wide eyes and an anxious frown, so he says, “Ethan, just open the damn box.”

“Grayson!” his mother chastises from the couch across the coffee table. “No swearing! And on Christmas too?!”

Grayson barely holds back his eye roll. “Sorry, but look at this idiot. He’s about to have an anxiety attack over a gift!”

His snarky comment awakes Ethan from his terrible daydream and Ethan elbows his side. “Shut up,” he growls. “I’m going upstairs to open this.”

Grayson leans in close so his family can’t hear him. “What, think it might be lingerie?” he snickers.

Ethan’s cheeks burst with color and he gapes. “No!” he shouts, pushing off the couch and running to his room, ignoring the way Grayson cackles maniacally behind him.

He seals himself away in his space, hops into his bed and flicks on his bedside lamp. His hands are shaking with the suspense of it and he has to tell himself to calm down twice. Then he counts to three and begins tearing at the paper, shredding it and splitting open the tape that boxes it.

It’s simple, but so perfect. He grabs the plush T-rex tucked inside, chuckling when he realizes it’s a token from their conversation on the last day of freshman year in advanced English. He squeezes it to his body and hugs it so tight it hurts.

Then he pulls out the giant box of sour patch kids candy and laughs at the note, ‘For a sweet n sour kind of guy.’ Then he finds two bookmarks, one with lemons patterning the front and the second is just blank with a polaroid the two of them took at their local bowling alley taped on top. He feels his throat begin to choke up with emotion and his heart’s beating really, really fast.

Lastly, he digs out the two prompt books from the bottom with stickers that boast ‘Over 2000 prompts inside!’. On the cover of the first is a sticky note that says, ‘Hopefully you can find some inspiration in here.’

And beneath it all is a tiny note on three-holed paper written in blue ink.

Merry Christmas Ethy. Never make me cry like that again, okay? I almost sobbed to death. You mean the world to me and are a great friend. Give the fam a hug for me.

Ethan’s crying. He’s crying so hard that he thinks he’ll never stop because she is such a good friend. She’s too good for him, and she doesn’t know it, and he never wants her to figure that out because he wants her for life. Friend, girlfriend, whatever. It doesn’t matter as long as she’s around him.

His mom knocks on the door gently from outside his room, hearing his wails all the way from the staircase. “Etee?” she calls. “Can I come in?”

Ethan makes a noise of approval through his choking sobs, and she enters the room, fearing the worst.

But then she sees him hugging a stuffed animal undoubtedly gifted by (Y/N) and her heart swells three times its size. She is so proud of her Ethan, and she is so proud of her (Y/N) now, too. She loves that girl like her own.

Ethan’s mom sneaks over and wraps him up in a hug and squeezes him once because she loves him, twice because she loves his best friend, and three times because it’s Christmas, and makes a mental note to find a gift for (Y/N) next Christmas, too.

-

Entering the final weeks of his junior year, Ethan's beginning to relax, finally. Him and (Y/N) have been best friends for over a year now and spend just about every waking minute together, going to movies every weekend, bowling every Tuesday, swimming in the summer, sledding in the snow; the two could have fun in a cardboard box at this point. They know each other like the back of their hands, and they've grown so close even Grayson's beginning to get jealous of the amount of time they spend together. But Grayson--and everyone else--knows that it is only because they are so blindly in love with one another. He'll let them be ignorant for a little bit longer.

Ethan's situated in the rigid reigns of his unassigned-assigned seat in the very back of his college interpersonal communications class, pencil in hand, brows sloped together and feeling low as he ever could.

The assignment was simple. He was confirming or denying personality traits and ranking them on a scale from one to ten with one being inaccurate and ten being suitable. For example, Ethan's eyes hardly ghosted over the phrase '3. I am sociable' before his pencil darted over to the one column and jotted down the number 3 since the phrase 'sociable' was practically an antonym for 'Ethan Dolan'. The assignment is generic enough, but for some reason, Ethan feels targeted. He supposes he should put number '4. I am paranoid' under column eight.

Ethan's hard on himself. And he thinks that, after placing '6. I am revolting' under column nine, he should probably lighten up, but he agrees, okay? And he is anxious, he is argumentative, he's immature and impatient and cowardly. The further he skims down this list, the more cons he agrees with. However, there's a fair balance of disagreement: he certainly isn't affectionate, charming, or humorous and he certainly is not, er, 'happy-go-lucky'. He's being honest with himself--and that's what this activity is all about.

But it hurts. Ethan's foot is bobbing so fast against the rung of his chair his whole desk is practically vibrating and his throat feels tight and he feels cold, cold and cold-hearted. Before long, he's listing phrases like '11. I am snobbish' under category ten without a second thought.

'16. I am sensitive.'

Ethan's pencil hovers. He isn't sensitive. He is not sensitive, not anymore; his skin has thickened over the years, hardened with scars by the paper cuts of snide remarks and deep gashes of his own cruel thoughts. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even cried. His heart was practically dry ice at this point.

That's not true. You are still weak. You are still so weak.

Ethan feels his own insult slide down the length of his spine, cold and humiliating and it leaves his cheeks burning because it's true. He doesn't cry and that doesn't mean shit. He is still pathetic and lowly and he knows it, he knows better than to lie to himself like this. There is no place for dishonesty in his own mind--it is quick to reprimand him. He puts the number 16 under ten.

'17. I am lovable.'

His eyes pinch shut, stinging with tears, and he groans inwardly, aching with the pure cruelty of it. He can't think of a less applicable phrase. He ditches the one column completely and creates an entirely new scale, zero, and writes 17 twice.

He's hardly noticed that he's hunched over, his hand buried in his mop of hair and protectively shielding his vulnerable, tearful eyes. He's tucking in on himself until he's small, cowering under the weight of his thoughts. It hurts. It hurts.

He doesn't know where this wave of emotion came from, but he's digging his nails into his palm in order to distract him enough while the teacher's speaking.

"Now, the second part of the assignment is to see how other people rank you. I'll hand out a second copy and you will give it to them and give them the same instructions with you in mind," Ms. Stogerson says as the bell chimes overhead. "Bring it back tomorrow!" she cries as people file out of the room.

Ethan is last to leave with a heavy heart and a head full of heavy thoughts. He's practically sleep walking to his locker, his mind's so far away, and he jumps when (Y/N) puts a hand on his arm.

"Hey, you okay?" she asks gently, her eyebrows slung together with worry.

No. "Yeah, course," Ethan mumbles, staring down at his sheet littered with personal, personal insults. "Listen, um, you busy during study hall?" he asks.

She shakes her head no and waits for him to continue.

He sighs and nibbles on his lip. "Could you help me out with an assignment maybe?"

"Of course," she smiles easily. Ethan was dreading her response. He really, really, really doesn't want to do this. "What's the assignment?" she asks as he twists the lock on his locker.

"Um," he drags on, "it's kind of a weird one. You're supposed to like, rank me. Well, okay," he grumbles, ducking his head into his cubby for a moment of privacy. He sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes, hoping the tears that still well in his eyes will soak back. "It's, uh..."

"Ethy? You okay? Seriously," she pushes, grabbing his forearm where it holds the rail of his door.

"Yeah," he tries, his voice cracking. He clears his throat and then steels himself. "Yes, I'm fine," he says with more certainty. "Basically, you have to rank my character traits from one to ten, with one being inaccurate, five being average, and ten being accurate. So like... so for instance, if the sentence was 'I am athletic', you'd rank me at like, a one since I'm not athletic at all. Get it?"

She squints at him and nods, tipping her head towards the classroom so they can begin walking. "Yeah, I get it, but I wouldn't rank you at a one. You might not be in sports, but I'm pretty sure you could kick someone's ass, and I saw you in gym class; you singlehandedly won capture-the-football for your team. I'd put you at like, an eight," she shrugs.

Ethan hadn't considered that. He really wasn't all that unathletic when he really thought about it. He frowns at his sheet. "Well... alright. But, you get it then?"

"Yeah, sounds like a piece of cake," she says and snags the sheet out of his hand.

Once they seat themselves in their study hall, (Y/N) breaks out her pencil and begins jotting down on the worksheet, and Ethan's almost sweating he's so anxious from what she'll say about him.

He knows she won't cut him down, she never has. But this is pure honesty, this says everything about what she thinks of him, how highly she sees him; it's as if he's asking her each question. Do you think I'm honest? Do you think I'm unique? Do you think I'm approachable? And she'll answer him.

It's an exercise based on self-evaluation and the mirror theory, and Ethan's supposed to find out if he sees in himself what others see in him. But he doesn't care what people think about him, he just cares what she thinks about him.

"Are you almost done?" Ethan mumbles, fidgeting with his hands.

She gives him a sidelong glance and a grin. "Yes, Mr. Impatient. Just... one... more. There," she says, sliding the sheet his way.

Ethan can't believe it. He really can't believe any of it. "You ranked me as a 10 on the attractive scale?" he gapes, bringing the paper close to his face to see if his vision had deceived him.

When he turns to look at her, she's blushing terribly but shrugging nonchalantly, as if she doesn't care if he knows that she thinks he's a ten. Ethan could throw a party.

"And another ten for charming? And a ten for humorous? And a nine for kind? Are you out of your mind?" he snorts, scanning her list. "Those are ones and twos on my list."

She blinks at him with horror. "How?" she asks incredulously.

"Charming? When am I ever charming?" he pushes.

"Er, well..." she says, avoiding his eyes entirely.

"And when am I funny?" he asks still.

"Oh, you know that you're funny, don't be stupid," she deadpans. "You make me laugh all the time. Let me see your list." Before Ethan can stuff it in her binder, away from her reach, she snags it and begins reviewing it studiously. Her frown deepens and deepens and her eyes get the look as if she's just seen animal abuse first hand, and Ethan hates it. He hates her sympathy, he hates her need to console him because he doesn't need it. He doesn't need sympathy.

"Ethan, how can you even say you're snobbish? When the fuck are you snobbish?" she mumbles, shaking her head.

"Well, I don't talk to anyone in this school besides you. I think that's kind of snobby of me," he shrugs, chewing on a hangnail.

"Ethan, you don't talk to anyone because they're all a bunch of assholes. I would be concerned if you did talk to them. Give me that," she says, grabbing his pencil from his hand and erasing his work. "We're doing this together."

"Why are you erasing revolting? That belongs in column ten!" he cries, grasping for the pencil.

"You're out of your mind, you are anything but revolting," she growls back, still erasing. "Now, why do you think you're irresponsible? You have a 4.0, Ethan."

He scratches the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders lamely. "I don't know, I forgot to lock my locker one time and Kyle Henz sprayed shaving cream all over my books. If I'd remembered to lock it, that wouldn't have happened, you know?"

(Y/N)'s jaw clenches next to him and her knuckles turn white where they hold the pencil. "Well, Kyle Henz is a piece of shit, and that isn't your fault. You're responsible. It's going in column eight. I'll admit you're insecure, I'll leave that in column ten, but you shouldn't be. You are... so great," she says, shaking her head like she can't believe anyone like Ethan would be hard on themselves.

She makes him want to not be so hard on himself. She makes him want to believe in himself like she believes in him.

They go down the list until Ethan actually agrees with her on some. He doesn't know why he thought he was insensitive or bossy or dishonest because he just isn't. He is plenty of insulting words, but he isn't any of those, or half of the words he said he was an hour ago. (Y/N) makes an effort to give him an example with each one, why he's polite, why he's kind, why he's interesting, and it lifts his spirits higher than they've been in a long, long time.

"Why'd you pick me for this assignment?" she asks as the hour draws to an end.

Ethan doesn't really know. It's not because she was the first person he saw, because he would have picked her anyway. After a moment, he chews on his lip and murmurs, "You know me better than anyone else."

"Even Gray?"

"Even Gray," he nods.

She grins big at him and nods to herself. "Well, I know you better than anyone else, and look at what I think of you," she says, tapping to her sheet full of positives.

Ethan guesses that's one way to look at it.

They share a look, a look they share too often, a look that makes Ethan think that maybe she feels the same way too, a look that makes him believe that someday they could work out. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and the bell chimes overhead, and the moment's lost to reality.

"See you after school," she says to him breathlessly.

All Ethan can do is nod and watch her hurry out of the study hall room.

-

Ethan never does things right for too long. A year and a half of friendship was much, much more than he could have ever asked for, so he doesn't know why he's shocked. He doesn't know why he's even hurt.

He walks into his home robotically, his feet carrying him to his parents' room without him even knowing it. He doesn't even register that he's there until he hears his mom's gasp and feels her hands cradling his face. "Ethan Grant, how did you get that?" she asks.

He knows she's talking about the black eye that's marking the left half of his face, and he tries to answer her, but all that comes out is, "I think I lost (Y/N)."

He needs to talk about this. He needs to cry about this. He feels like something is eating him alive, starting with his heart; his heart, it hurts so bad.

"Honey, what do you mean? What do you mean you think you lost (Y/N)?" his mom asks, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone and staring up at him with worry all over her features.

He just falls on her, lets her hold him like a child, and thinks about the times they used to go to the library and read together. He misses that innocence, that simpleness right now. He doesn't want to be so sad. Ethan is shaking with sobs and chokes on his own cries and sniffing loudly, trying to see through his blurry vision and calm down. He begins to hyperventilate and his mom leads him out into the living room, wrapping him in a blanket and attempting to console him, but it is very little use because Ethan is heartbroken.

He is absolutely heartbroken.

-

Ethan can hardly open his eyes the next morning, they're so puffy. He's still on the couch, and his mom is still by his side. He blinks blearily and looks around to find himself draped in a thick comforter and a cup of tea on the coffee table, still steaming. His mom looks as sad as him, and he can feel the disappointment radiating off of her. Whether it's from him fighting or him losing (Y/N), he doesn't know, but he hates it. It feels like another weight on him.

She cards her fingers through his tousled bangs and smiles sadly at him. "There's a delivery for you," she whispers to him, "from (Y/N)."

The name alone sends his heart jolting, and tears flood his eyes uninvited. He sniffs and nods, sitting up from his spot and propping himself up on his elbows. His mom leaps from her seat and pads into the foyer, her slippers scuffling on the marble floors, and returns soon enough with a laundry tote overflowing with books.

Ethan's brows furrow on his forehead, but he doesn't ask any questions. She simply drops it at his feet and leaves him alone with it.

Ethan wipes his eyes with the back of his fist and stretches a sore arm out to grab the first book within reach. He picks up the Great Gatsby and finds a sticky note on the cover. 'Here's something you haven't told me'.

Ethan reads and rereads it a few times, but it doesn't make any more sense the sixth or seventh time. So, he just cracks the spine and opens it to the first chapter. Ethan doesn't know what he's expecting, but nothing’s out of the ordinary for the first three pages and after a while he forgets what he's looking for and just reads instead. He's convinced he'll never hate a character from a first impression more than he'll hate Daisy Buchanan, and his annoyance grows bigger and bigger as he keeps reading. He figures he ought to just finish the chapter--even though he knows how it'll end--now that he's started it, and as he flips to the final page, he's glad he did. He skips over the paragraph and just reads the scribbled pen at the bottom in the space beneath the last paragraph.

I think Ethan would hate Daisy. Well, I hate Daisy. I hate her so fucking much.

Ethan laughs outright, even if it comes out a little strangled with his hoarse voice, at (Y/N)'s bluntness. She was shy and reserved in real life, but in her own fictional world, she was as bold as anyone he’d ever met.

I can't even figure out how Ethan made it past the first chapter with how shitty it is. I feel like his dad told him to read it, so he did, and he just ended up loving it, because if I didn't know the great reputation this book had, I would throw it in the garbage after the first chapter. I hate Daisy Buchanan. She’s a ditz.

She's absolutely right; Ethan only read it because his dad told him to. And he hates Daisy, he hates her so goddamn much from the start. But he's giddy with the realization that (Y/N) probably writes something at the end of every chapter, and begins leafing through the pages to find out what more is on her mind. On most pages after that, he finds highlighted quotes and margin notes and even little doodles, all pertaining to her thoughts on the book and what she thinks Ethan thinks, and most of the time, they're spot on.

After a while, he discards The Great Gatsby and grabs The Perks of Being a Wallflower and finds that it's similarly stained almost completely in highlighter and pen ink. Every single book in the overflowing laundry tote is well-worn, well-read, and well-marked. Ethan realizes after the eighth book that these are all of his favorites.

It's well into the evening when he stops searching each book and reading all the thoughts she took the time to scribble down. She knows him better than anyone in the world, better than Cameron, better than his dad, better than Grayson, better than his mom. She knows him better than anyone and she still loves him. She loves him like a friend, and maybe even more, and Ethan figures now is a better time than ever to just spit it out--he is so fucking in love with her, and he's going to tell her.

-

It's been six months and a day since that god-awful day, and six months since (Y/N) became Ethan's. That's one hell of a silver lining.

Her, Ethan, and the other four Dolans are seated around the Dolan's porch with oversized pumpkins in their laps and carving tools in their hands, sipping hot cocoa and eating recently decorated sugar cookies. Ethan can't think of a better way to spend his Halloween.

It means a lot to him because (Y/N) was invited to at least three parties and her friends were threatening to kidnap her if she didn't show up herself, and she turned them all down. She knows it's Ethan's favorite holiday, and she knows he doesn't like parties. She wouldn't have wanted to go without him, anyway.

"Ethy, pass me the scooper," she demands, making grabby hands at his toolset.

Ethan passes it along to her without a snarky comment because he's overjoyed. Nothing can bring him down.

"(Y/N), did we ever tell you about the time Ethan cried over you at the dinner table?" Cameron smirks, glaring smugly at Ethan.

Ethan lied. This can definitely bring him down. "Why no," (Y/N) drawls, grinning toothily, "you haven't Cammy. Fill me in."

"Absolutely not," Ethan growls. He raises the kitchen knife next to his pumpkin only half-jokingly. "Shut it."

But Cameron has no interest in keeping quiet. In fact, she's inviting everyone to chime in if they so please. "Dad? You remember that? Mom?"

"Of course," his mom giggles, her eyes lighting up happily. "Sean, you remember that right? Right after Cam met her at the ice cream parlor?"

"Remember that (Y/N)?" Cameron laughs, reaching over to grab her arm in delight. "When you and all your friends stopped in and we met? Well I told Ethan that I told you that he had a crush on you, and I swear to God I've never seen the kid cry so hard in my life, he was sobbing," she snorts, leaning forward as she wheezes.

"Oh my God, and he was reading the first Harry Potter and we were teasing him and he was getting so upset," his mom joins. Ethan's fuming. He's fuming!

"Stop," Ethan barks, glaring down at his pumpkin.

"That's not the first or last time he'd cry over you, either," Grayson scoffs, shaking his head. "When he picked out your Christmas present sophomore year, he was almost in tears he was so nervous."

Ethan's about ready to just leave, head inside and lock himself in his room with the way his girlfriend's giggling along and everyone's mocking him and his sensitivity. He opens his mouth to shout something obscene, but (Y/N) starts talking. "That's definitely not as embarrassing as the times that I've cried. When he first got that lavender stripe in his hair, my friends told me some other girl was going to snatch him right from me and I went home and sobbed to my mom," she laughs, covers her mouth and shaking her head. "She literally had to give me NyQuil because I cried all night."

His whole family bursts into a chorus of laughter; his dad's holding his stomach, his mom's wiping tears, and Cameron and Grayson are staring at each other with complete mirth.

"A-and then," she continues, her giggles breaking up her words, "on the last day of school freshman year, I cried all night long because I wasn't going to see Ethan for three whole months. I didn't even know him yet!"

Ethan finds himself chuckling deep in his chest too with a big wide grin, and he clears his throat.  "You're kidding," he snorts, jabbing her shoulder with his elbow.

"No, I'm not," she says with a giggle, shaking her head. "I think I cried like, a dozen times over you. Just too in love, I guess," she smiles sweetly.

Ethan doesn't know why he was so worried about being embarrassed around her--he knows she'll never judge him. And he knows she loves him too, so what's his problem?

The laughter dies down after awhile and everyone returns to their pumpkin carving, debating over the best slasher horror movie and which one they'll watch later. Ethan knows he'll be so scared he can't sleep, but that doesn't actually bother him all that much. His reality's so much better than any of his dreams, anyway.

-

Ethan's graduated. He is finally fucking graduated. He's never felt so good in his life.

He feels like someone's uncuffed his handcuffs, untied his reigns, or some other analogy for breathing a fresh breath of freedom. He can't remember anything ever being so physically relieving, outside of the moment (Y/N) confessed her love for him too. On second thought, there is something better than graduation, and it's standing in his driveway.

That thing is plopped on the pavement, with its limbs stretched out and its bare feet tickling the sidewalk at the end with a baby blue bit of chalk in its hand, writing in bubble letters 'WELCOME!'. Its got its tongue poking out of its lips and its hair is falling sideways around it and it’s looking absolutely stunning in its best sundress. Ethan can't believe he ever thought, even dramatically, anything as simple as graduation was as good as it.

And it, of course, is (Y/N). She's already spent the morning hanging streamers around the garage and setting up poster boards of Ethan and Grayson with Lisa and carrying out gigantic tupperware with large portions of food and sneaking a cupcake (Ethan saw) out of the dessert stand. And all for a graduation party that isn't even her own.

Ethan is anxious--which is a phrase that is often said and even oftener felt by him. But that does not mean he does not feel any less nauseous, any less dizzy, or any less on edge than he has all those times before; if anything, he is feeling more anxious than he has in months, because Ethan is less than popular at Long Valley, and half of the school is going to be coming to his house on his territory and they are going to be just as cruel as usual. And there's nothing Ethan can do; in fact, he's supposed to welcome them.

They've all been invited by Grayson, the twin who can actually speak, the twin who is a social butterfly. And Ethan gets it--it's not Grayson's fault he's likable. But he's been a little bitter ever since Grayson warned him that Cole Eptom and Alex Peterson were invited and attending. Where's Grayson's loyalty? This has been a clear violation of the Bro-Code, and he knows it.

More than this, it'll just be awkward. It'll be awkward when everyone's rushing up to Grayson and hanging off the edge of his every word, and no one is coming up to Ethan. And that's how it has always been, but it's frankly unfair and downright impolite when the celebration is about Ethan too, after all. He feels a little like his name is in fine print on their cheesy graduation banner.

(Y/N) stands up from where she was lying on the cement and claps the chalk off her palms. She stares down at her masterpiece with a frown and then swipes her tongue across her thumb and smudges out a bit of the W, and then grins contently and looks to Ethan for confirmation. Ethan doesn’t really care what it looks like if he’s honest, but he gives her two thumbs up and a big wide grin. She’s smiling, and that’s all that really matters.

She patters over to him, her white sandals scraping against the pavement and her matching white dress flowing with her body, and sidles up next to him, wrapping her arms around his frame. “You excited?” she asks.

Of course he isn’t. “Yeah, should be fun,” Ethan says.

She snorts disbelievingly and shakes her head. “No you aren’t, I haven’t seen you smile all morning.”

Ethan throws an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in tighter, kissing the top of her head. “That’s cause you’ve been busy helping and not paying me any attention. At all.”

She sneaks out from under his hold and slides her fingers up his jawline, eager to pull him in for a chaste kiss. They end up forgetting the ‘chaste’ part and making out in the driveway, oblivious to the commotion going about around them—the tables being set up, the decorative plants being vased, the food being set—and get lost in the feeling of each other. Ethan thinks it’s the best distraction he could have thought of. Their moment is so quickly ruined though when he feels a tiny bar--which he soon realizes is a carrot from the veggie tray--pelt the back of his neck, and he flinches and pulls away.

“Are you guys serious!” Grayson calls from the garage, his arms outstretched with dubiety. “We have a graduation party, dumbass!”

Ethan grumbles and pulls (Y/N) flush to his chest, both arms secure around her shoulders, and lifts his chin over his shoulder to pierce his twin with a glare. “Not for another half hour, fuck off.”

“It starts in five minutes, Ethan. For fuck’s sake, Grandma could walk up any second and see you guys tongue-fucking each other.”

“Or, Grandma could walk up and hear you using foul language, Grayson Bailey,” Grandma Adrianne scolds, her frown etching deep crevices in her face. Ethan’s never felt so smug as he does when he watches Grayson’s life flash before his eyes.

“Grandma Adrianne!” Grayson chokes out, faux-cheeriness in his strangled voice. “When did you-“

“Save it, you’re lucky I don’t tell your mother to wash your mouth out with soap,” she grumbles, waving him away. She’s quick to hurry up behind (Y/N) and snatch her from Ethan, pulling her into her arms and swaying the two of them back and forth. Ethan almost wants to be offended that she’s chosen his own girlfriend over him, but his belly feels warm with the reality that his family loves (Y/N) just as much as he does—some days, he actually thinks they might love her more. But that is a ridiculous thought. “Hi, Honey,” Grandma Adrianne says to her, patting her back. “How have you been? You takin’ care of my Etee?”

(Y/N) pulls away and holds onto her arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You know it, Lord knows what would happen if I wasn’t,” she says with an eyeroll.

“Good. We need you and Lisa by him always, the little devil.”

“Hey!” Ethan calls, his arms flying out defensively.

“Oh trust me, you aren’t near as bad as your brother over there,” Grandma Adrianne assures, waddling over to hug Ethan. She squeezes him tight and kisses his cheek, and Ethan smiles. “Quite the potty-mouth. Where do you even find words like ‘tongue-fu-‘“

“Grandma,” Ethan laughs.

“I’m not kidding, he’s in hot water with me. I told you boys no swearing, it’s unnecessary.”

“Lucky for you, I am a saint,” Ethan fibs, winking at (Y/N) over Grandma Adrianne’s shoulder. She rolls her eyes playfully in return and shakes her head, a blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah right, Kid,” Grandma says. “Now where did Grayson run off to? I bet he’s hiding,” she says and chases him into the kitchen where he is undoubtedly cowering.

Ethan takes the spare moment of privacy to kiss (Y/N) one last time, sadly chastely, and burrow his nose in the crook of her neck despite the way he has to dip down. He feels protected by her in a way he can’t explain—he knows she’d never leave him defenseless, nonetheless hurt him, because she has had that opportunity for years and yet, she has been nothing but kind, gentle, patient, and caring. Ethan’s reminded by this when she brushes her lips against the shell of his ear and whispers, “You’re going to be fine. Breathe easy. You’ve got this,” even though he hasn’t spoken a word of his churning anxiety. She just knows.

After that, Grandma Bernadette and Poppy John hobble in, followed by the twins’ little cousins, all eager to speak to the boys and snag a cupcake or two. However, after that files in their chemistry teacher, a girl Ethan doesn’t quite know, and half of the soccer team, all of which hardly grant Ethan so much as a glance. It doesn’t bother him; (Y/N) is secure by his side, chatting off his ear and playing iSpy.

But it keeps happening, just like Ethan knew it would. His history teacher is polite enough to say hello and ask him how it feels to be a graduate, but other than that, the dozens of people filling his garage are practically seeing right through him, while Grayson has a lengthy line just waiting to talk to him. His mother is sheepish, trying her best to entertain him with small talk until she’s hauled away by a visitor, and his dad is busy talking to his fellow coworkers. It’s just Ethan and (Y/N), ignoring the elephant in the room—Ethan is so, so unpopular.

He’s not letting it get to him. He isn’t going to. This is way too common for him to get all worked up today—there’s nothing different about today than yesterday, or the day before that, or any of the days at school. Grayson is simply more likable, Ethan knows that. Ethan knows that if he wasn’t so fucking quiet, so fucking grouchy, maybe, just maybe people would talk to him. But then he thinks about six-year-old-Ethan, neither grouchy nor particularly quiet, who was still just as unlikable. Is there something wrong with him? Is there just a wavelength that surrounds him, so negative and intolerant that people won’t even speak to him at his own graduation party? Because, in all honesty, today is different. Today is about Ethan just as much as it is about Grayson, but people are still avoiding him like the black plague. And these are nice people—people who have manners, who are polite enough to know to at least acknowledge his presence. What the fuck is wrong with Ethan?

(Y/N) squeezes his hand beside him, a frown on her lips and curiosity in her doe eyes. “What’s wrong?” she whispers, leaning in close.

“Nothing,” Ethan breathes, sighing breathily. “Nothing at all.”

She knows better, and he knows that she knows. But he's close, so close to tearing up in his garage in front of the cluster of people to his left, hanging off of Grayson's every word.

It was so unfair. He knows it's pointless to be asked where he's attending college since him and Grayson are going to the same place, he knows it's pointless to be asked who he's rooming with, but they could ask him about his major, they could ask him if he wanted to study abroad, they could ask him so many other questions. He did not deserve this.

Or did he? There must be a reason people hate him so quickly, almost inherently. It was as if everyone just knew to hate him. Hating Ethan seems like a knee jerk reflex for the mass population.

It can't be his looks--he sees the way girls fawn over Grayson, and he looks just like him. It can't be his last name, because everyone loves Cameron and his dad and his mom and Grayson. He's mulling over why, why, why people hated him so much they won't even speak to him at his own graduation party. He's mulling over why so much, that he hardly notices (Y/N) poking his side.

"Hey, Ethy," she says tentatively, jabbing him. "Someone's here to see you," she coos.

Ethan lifts his gaze slowly to stare at the woman in front of him--(Y/N)'s mom. He only realizes he's been frowning so bitterly at the ground when he begins to smile, ready to speak to one of his favorite people. "Hi!" he cheers, dropping (Y/N)'s hand to throw her mom in a hug. "Thank you for coming!"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Honey," she giggles in his ear, squeezing him back. "Gonna miss it?" she jokes, pointing to the pair of caps and diplomas on the table.

Ethan laughs and shakes his head. "Not a bit," he says.

"Good, those people suck," she whispers to him, discreetly thumbing to the crowd by Grayson.

Ethan smiles happily and nods in full agreement. "You can hop in line and talk to Grayson if you want," Ethan says politely, cocking his head to where Grayson's chatting away with a member of the volleyball team.

(Y/N)'s mom rolls her eyes. "He looks busy," she says flatly. "Besides, we have to go over more important matters; what flavor are the cupcakes?"

Ethan chuckles and grabs (Y/N)'s hand again, the knot in his stomach unwinding. "Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, just for (Y/N) here." He looks down to see his girlfriend is already munching on what seems to be her third cupcake, a speck of frosting dotting the tip of her nose. He swipes it off with a grin and licks his finger.

(Y/N)'s mom has already grabbed two and is in a hurry to make it to the food line. "Ethan, I hope you don't mind, but (Y/N) and I invited a few people. I already talked to your mom and she said it's fine," (Y/N)'s mom calls to him, stacking chips and sandwiches on her paper plate.

Ethan's brows slump together and he looks down to (Y/N) who is carefully avoiding his gaze. "Uh, yeah I guess that's fine? Who'd you invite?"

There is no time to answer, however, because the entirety of (Y/N)'s extended family is ushering into the garage, squeezing past tables and chairs, forming their own line to speak to Ethan twice as long as Grayson's. People are beginning to stare as (Y/N)'s cousins argue over who gets to speak to him first, her aunts are already coddling him, and her grandparents are hobbling up to the front, claiming 'dibs'. Ethan's mom is grinning so big he thinks her dimples might be permanent, and Ethan's dad is hardly paying attention to his coworkers, and neither of them mind when the family leaves late into the afternoon after dozens and dozens of hugs and kisses and conversations with Ethan and only Ethan.

-

Ethan isn't nervous for his first day of class, he's not. He has no reason to be. No one cares about him at university, and that's just how he likes it.

Well, he’s a little nervous. Not because he thinks people will pick on him, but because he thinks everyone will care so little about him that no one will bother to speak to him. It’s definitely better than bullying still, Ethan thinks. He just wants a decent spot in his lecture hall.

The walk to campus is easy enough. It’s sunny and seventy-eight, the perfect temperature for an early September morning. He kicks a rock all the way down the sidewalk and keeps his head down to pass the time and distract him of his thoughts. Before he knows it, he’s yanking on the door to his building and nearing the hall, and he’s nervous. He’s nervous and he’ll admit it to himself, because there’s no way he can deny the frenzy in his stomach or the sweat dampening his hands.

He walks into the room and it’s bigger than he thought it would be and already flooded with students. There’s a spot open here and there, but he’d have to cross the sea of bodies in each row to get to it, and he feels himself overflow with anxiety.

“Hey, need a spot?” a guy a few rows up the stairs asks, waving his pencil.

The guy seems nice enough but kind of intimidating; he’s absolutely jacked. Ethan knows he’s probably not a dick like Cole Eptom or Alex Peterson or Jacob Kronwell, but if he happened to be, he could kick Ethan’s ass. Despite his paranoia, he offers a nervous grin and climbs the stairs to sit in the spot next to him.

“I’m Rocky,” the guy introduces himself, offering out a hand for Ethan to shake.

Ethan takes it firmly and smiles at him. “Ethan,” he says back.

Rocky taps his pencil against his open notebook and bounces his foot against the floor. “You know anything about, er, The Evolution of Roman Literature?” he asks, squinting at the syllabus they grabbed at the entrance.

Ethan laughs and shakes his head quickly. “I don’t know shit about the Romans in general,” Ethan snorts.

“God, me neither,” Rocky responds, laughing with him. “What hall are you in?”

“Krater,” Ethan nods. “I room with my brother, how about you?”

“Hey, I’m in Krater too!” Rocky cheers, grinning with a row of white, pearly teeth. Ethan worries that this guy is too attractive to be within a mile radius of (Y/N). “I room with my best friend from my hometown, Collin. He’s pretty cool, you should meet him.”

Ethan’s making friends. He doesn’t know the process all that well, but he’s doing okay, he thinks. This is what making friends is like.

“For sure,” Ethan nods, drumming his fingers against the table. “You, uh, gotta meet my twin Grayson, he’s nice enough. But he can’t cook for shit, just warning you.”

Rocky tips his head back and laughs, and Ethan feels himself easing up significantly. “You’re funny,” Rocky nods as if it he’s confirming it to himself. “Look, if you wanna stop by my room after class we can pick up Collin and Grayson and get some food—Collin just texted me that he found the best sushi place in New Jersey just downtown. You in?”

Ethan’s in.

-

“Pay up, bitch,” Charlotte shouts in Ethan’s face, waving a hand of rainbow money across his nose. He knows for sure that she’s tipsy if not drunk because Charlotte rarely swears. He has no idea how she is best friends with (Y/N), the swearer of the century.

Charlotte, Hera, Marcy, Carlos, Collin, Baasim, Christian, Rocky, Grayson, and of course, (Y/N) formed a circle in their too-tiny living room, cramped so close their knees overlapped. In the center was a monopoly board with eleven tokens (ten sterling silver pieces and a single, makeshift character—a stale cheez it—for Christian) all mapped out in different sections. Carlos was thriving, Baasim was nearly asleep, and Hera had been to jail four times. Everyone had cried from laughter twice. All was well.

“Fine,” Ethan grumbles, forking over a pink bill. “Fuck you.”

(Y/N) cuddles into his side, touchy from the liquor she had ingested, and tips her head on his shoulder.

“Can we get away from your PDA for one night? Just one? You guys make me sick,” Christian snorts, picking up his cheez it figurine and tossing it at Ethan’s forehead.

Ethan smirks and reaches down to squeeze (Y/N)’s ass for all to see and groan.

“This is ridiculous, I shouldn’t have to deal with this stuff every day,” Marcy says, though she’s tucked in Carlos’s lap comfily. (Y/N) glares at her and jabs her pointer finger at the couple, pointing out their hypocrisy.

“This is actually a miracle,” Ethan shrugs. “Pipsqueak here was shy as fuck in high school. She would never let me even touch her in public.”

“(Y/N)? Shy? I find that hard to believe,” Hera laughs, reaching over and pinching (Y/N)’s cheek lightly. She grabs Hera’s hand and kisses the knuckles, which sends everyone giggling all over again. She really must be feeling affectionate tonight.

“’S true though,” Grayson pipes up, nodding. “I knocked over (Y/N)’s books the first day of my freshman year and I thought she was going to have a heart attack or something.”

(Y/N) sits up and pins Grayson with a hazy glare. “Worth it,” she slurs out. “Otherwise I’d never have the guts to talk to my crushhhh,” she cheers, throwing her arms around Ethan’s neck. Everyone laughs and boos, groaning theatrically and pretending to throw up.

“Yeah, cause Ethan here was a punk back in the day,” Grayson says. It’s the first time they’ve ever mentioned Ethan’s bitterness in high school, but Ethan’s not worried. He has nothing to hide; these people are his family.

“Punk? Really?” Rocky pushes.

“Oh yeah, had a huge emo-phase,” Ethan snorts. “Used to have a neon stripe in my bangs,” he elaborates, pulling on the now natural-colored tuft. “Hot pink.”

The group gasps and shouts a collection of ‘No!’s through their laughter, their ribs all hurting with the idea of Ethan in pink.

“He was so pretty!” (Y/N) chimes from beside him. “Don’t laugh!”

But she’s giggling too, feeling giddy and carefree in the chorus of laughter. Ethan’s got his face in his hands with shame and Rocky leans over to throw him in a headlock, tearing him from (Y/N)’s grasp and scraping his fist against his scalp. They spend the night drunk on cheap beer and laughter, feeling broke but in good company in their sophomore year inside their overstuffed apartment.

-

(Y/N) is seated on the couch with her legs strewn out across Ethan’s lap, with his legs strewn out onto the coffee table. She has a bowl of Reese’s Puffs being spooned into her mouth, and she’s watching Tom and Jerry and wiggling her toes to the intro-song. Ethan’s nervous.

He’s just received a letter from Penguin publishing company offering him a position as an editing intern. He’s overjoyed, really, but he’s stressed about (Y/N). Where’s she going to go? What’s she going to do? Penguin’s all the way over in Manhattan, and it’s a tough area for fresh-starters. He’s absolutely amazed that they sought him out.

He can’t honestly think of a better start for himself. He’s not sure what he’s going to publish, but he’s sure he’s going to publish something, and working at the biggest publishing company in the world makes for good connections. Furthermore, he’ll get to read and critique for a job—two of his favorite things. He knows (Y/N) would love that job. So how does he explain that to her?

It’s not that she won’t be happy for him, she’ll be overjoyed. But she’ll probably be a bit jealous, a little insecure, a little confused as to why they didn’t pick her instead. Ethan’s just as lost as her; she has a better GPA than him and everything about her is just perfect.

The job’s rare too. It’s a highly competitive field, and Ethan was chosen alongside nine others to work in cubicles with stacks, upon stacks, upon stacks of manuscripts, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

But it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right having a secure job without knowing (Y/N) has one too. And they’ll have to move to Manhattan-

What if she gets an internship in West New Jersey? What if they’re completely split? Do they break up?

Absolutely not. As crazy as it sounds, Ethan would never take his dream job over her.

But what do they do? If she doesn’t have an internship, does she follow him to Manhattan and find work there? Manhattan’s huge, would she like it there? Charlotte’s committed to an internship over in Newark for magazine journalism, which wouldn’t be too far away from her. But was that enough? Was Ethan enough of a reason to want to move to Manhattan?

“What’s on your mind?” (Y/N) asked around her spoon, crunching on her cereal still.

“I got an internship at Penguin publishing company,” Ethan blurts thoughtlessly, his chest heaving breathlessly after his admission.

That was the worst way to say it. That was the absolute worst way to say it.

“I’m sorry,” he whined, scrubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I found out last week. I didn’t want to tell you yet because-“

“Me too!” (Y/N) screamed, setting down her cereal bowl and sitting upright. “Ethan, me too!”

But Ethan wasn’t listening, he was just rambling. “I just didn’t want you to be upset because I know it’s far away in Manhattan, I don’t-“

“Ethan,” she laughed, pulling at his arm.

“I will totally drop it if you don’t want to be in Manhattan. I will totally-“

“Ethan!” she shouted, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “Me too! I got an internship at Penguin, too!”

Ethan couldn’t have possibly heard her right. “What?” he breathes, setting his hands on either side of her face. “Really?” he asks, shifting excitedly in his spot.

“Yes!” she cries, leaning forward to peck his lips. “Yes, they sent me a letter last week, too. I didn’t want to tell you either,” she giggled.

“You’re kidding. You’re kidding!” he whooped, pulling her into him and hugging her oh-so-tight. Only ten candidates and two of them were himself and (Y/N)? This was god-sent.

“Not kidding at all. This way I can keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t flirt with the receptionist,” she teases, tapping his nose.

Ethan snorts and shakes his head, amazed she’d even suggest it with how obsessed he is with her. “Right,” he says. “you’ll definitely need to keep an eye on me.”

“Mhm,” she agrees, kissing his jawline.

“And we can spend our lunch break together,” Ethan grins, thinking of all the cool cafes he can take her out to. She gasps and smiles at him excitedly.

“You mean it? You won’t get sick of me, spending so much time together?”

Ethan’s never heard anything stupider.

-

Ethan doesn’t think Miami is the place for him, and luckily, he doesn’t think Miami is the place for (Y/N) either. It is most definitely the place for Carlos and Marcy though, that much he does know.

They’ve hardly made it to their Air BNB before everyone’s clambering around, scrambling to call dibs on rooms and wheeling their squeaky luggage around the marbled floors, wonkily up the stairs, and all around the halls; he needs some ibuprofen for his oncoming headache. (Y/N) looks the same next to him, with her hair tousled from the turbulence and her oversized clothes rumpled from curling up on Ethan’s shoulder during the flight. He’s no stranger to her post-flight daze; this is their fourth and final spring break trip. He knows how this will go hour by hour.

First, Charlotte is going to slip into her suit and dive headfirst into the pool before anyone can even unpack, and then she will convince everyone to ditch their tasks and join her. Then, they’ll get drunk while swimming (and in Hera’s case, sunning a good ten feet from the water) and let the first day slip away without a thought of their itinerary. Then, someone (Marcy) will beg to play Kings and then someone (Marcy) will get so belligerently drunk that someone (Marcy) will fall asleep in the tub and refuse to get out, and that someone’s fiance (Carlos) will have to carry them back to their room. However, the party will be far from over still, and Ethan and (Y/N) will be kept wide awake until the early hours of the morning, laughing until they have tears streaming down their faces with their best friends. He isn’t sure where, but he’s also certain that a pizza will be ordered somewhere amidst all that chaos.

“Has anyone seen my suitcase?” Charlotte shouts through the echoey halls of their gaudy mansion. (Thanks, Carlos’s parents’ money). “I need my swimsuit!”

A series of ‘no’s and a single ‘yes’ return her way, and Ethan decides at that moment that he needs an ibuprofen or he might just die. (Y/N) is curled up on her chair by the kitchen island, half asleep where she has her head propped on her palm. Ethan smiles to himself and pads over to the refrigerator to grab her a juice and an apple, knowing that’s what she’ll ask for any minute now.

“Ethy, can you grab me- oh, thanks,” she giggles as he slides her the snacks.

“Welcome, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, smirking triumphantly and raiding the cabinets for a bottle of ibuprofen. He checks over his shoulder just to ensure she’s grinning bashfully at her lap and feels funny all over when she is. He’ll never, never, never get tired of her.

“Think we’re gonna go clubbing tonight?” she asks him around a mouthful of crunchy apple.

Ethan laughs quietly and shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Me neither,” she agrees with a grin. They know their best friends better than their own families.

Charlotte comes thundering down the stairs, her bare feet slapping against the marble, and races out the backdoor by the kitchen, a towel in one hand and a portable speaker in the other. Ethan and (Y/N) share one of their looks, one of their lovey-dovey looks, one of their looks that makes all the other friends cringe and groan out loud.

“Enough!” Baasim wails as he rounds the corner, his swim trunks on a tacky white stripe of sunscreen down the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, you guys have got to stop eye-fucking each other.”

“We aren’t eye-fucking each other,” (Y/N) laughs, breaking their gaze to flick Baasim’s bare shoulder. “If we were, Ethan’s dick would be standing straight out.”

Collin begins dramatically hacking up make-believe vomit when he enters the kitchen, groaning and rubbing his stomach. “Never mention Ethan’s dick around me again,” he states.

Christian nods in agreement. “But she’s right. They were probably just doing their gross ‘we’re totally going to be in love until we’re a hundred years old’ looks, and those are so much worse than their eye-fucking looks. Trust me, I’ve seen both many, many times.”

Baasim shakes his head sympathetically at Collin and they pout together. However, Grayson steps in quickly after them with a lot to say. “You two don’t know the fucking half of it,” he grumbles, a beer already in hand.

Ethan rolls his eyes before pointing to his drink. “Where did you get-“

“There’s a mini fridge in my room! Carlos’s parents must be fuckin’ stacked.”

“They are,” Carlos replies snobbishly, a towel over his shoulder. He lowers his sunglasses momentarily to wink at the crew and they all swat at him mindlessly, paying no mind to his ridiculous ego. Marcy’s on his arm and eager as always to get out and swim, so they follow Charlotte outside right away. Soon enough, everyone’s filing out into the fenced-in backyard and a little more than tipsy.

The first night goes exactly as planned. Well, not according to their itinerary, but according to Ethan’s: there was pizza, there were drunk-bathtub-slumbers, there was Kings, and there was no sleeping until well after four in the morning. But the second is more well-mapped because Hera informs everyone that she’s secured them all wristbands to the VIP section of the Rockwell, and nobody’s willing to pass up that opportunity. And it’s fun—Ethan’s not one to deny himself of a good time—but the group is itching to return the next night, and Ethan’s just not as stoked as everyone else.

“Dude, Rockwell is so fuckin’ steeze,” Rocky nods.

Ethan snorts at his comment and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m going to go tonight,” he shrugs, spooning a bite of Reese’s Puffs into his mouth.

It’s nearly one o’clock in the afternoon, but Rocky and Ethan are the only ones awake; last night’s wild rendezvous have left everyone drained and hung-over. Ethan’s already set out a bottle of Advil and two glasses of water by (Y/N)’s bedside table.

“Not going? Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Rocky asks, squinting at him incredulously.

Ethan isn’t out of his fuckin’ mind, he just knows how to pace himself. They have six days in Miami and he has the party-endurance of an eighty-year-old man—two days of heavy drinking in a row means he must take a night off. “Nope,” Ethan says. “You’ll have to tell me everything tomorrow morning if you can remember it.”

Rocky shakes his head with raised brows and stares at his toast. “Last night was insane.”

“Too insane.”

“Too insane,” Rocky confirms. “This is the shit you tell your kids about.”

Ethan thinks about that for a moment and realizes him and Rocky are just different people. Spring break is fun, unforgettable even, but Ethan would never peg it as life-changing. He knows what he’s going to tell his kids about—the time (Y/N) laughed so hard she peed on Grayson’s dorm bed and told him she spilled apple juice on his sheets. He’s going to tell them about the time she and he played hide-and-go-seek in their freshman residence hall for five hours. He’s going to tell them about the first time she snorted while laughing around him and he got it on video, and then how she tripped while chasing him and nearly had to get stitches. What’s the point in talking about the nights you can’t even remember? He wants to talk about the things he’ll never forget.

“Definitely,” Ethan nods, too tired to disagree.

“Is (Y/N) going to stay here too then?” Rocky asks.

Ethan shrugs but then nods. “Probably. I’ll honestly be surprised if she can even function after last night—she drank more than me, and she’s kind of a lightweight,” he says, chuckling to himself. He thinks about the way he had seen her throwing back twice-spiked pina-coladas and grins so hard his dimples pop in his cheeks.

“Gross…” Rocky says aloud, scrunching his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Stop being so in love. Just get married already.”

Ethan’s no stranger to comments like these, and they don’t startle or unsettle him. He has full intentions, he just doesn’t know how, when, or where to pop the question. He doesn’t even have a ring yet. But he’s ready, so very ready—he’s been waiting since ninth grade.

"Soon," Ethan murmurs back.

"Really?" Rocky says, pausing mid-chew. "When do you think you're going to ask her?"

Ethan doesn't know. "Soon," is all he says.

Rocky seems to notice he shouldn't push anymore because he backs off the topic. Around two in the afternoon, people start sleep-walking into the kitchen and fetching themselves some food, acting more like zombies than humans. When it takes (Y/N) an extra hour to drag her body down the steps, Ethan knows for certain she'll be sticking in the Air BNB with him all night long.

"Good morning," Ethan whispers quietly to her, kissing her hair softly. He knows her temples are sensitive today, so he doesn't dare kiss any part of her forehead.

She doesn't reply, just nods in return.

"Good morning, (Y/N)!" Rocky cheers obnoxiously. Ethan fears homicide.

"Go fuck yourself," she growls back, covering her ears protectively and folding herself into Ethan. Everyone's amused by her grumpiness since she is usually such a cheerful friend, but she's not in the mood to entertain. She grabs a carton of strawberries from the refrigerator and Ethan's wrist and tugs both upstairs to their bedroom where the blinds are drawn completely closed. The air conditioning's blasting on high, the bed is fixed with thick, fuzzy blankets, and the sound of drizzling rain is playing from her phone's speaker. She slips off the sweatpants she was wearing and snuggles under the comforter in Ethan's giant tee. He knows she isn't leaving this room until well into the evening.

He doesn't mind a bit. He'd choose a quiet nap with her over all the parties, all the alcohol, all the friends in the world. He would rather spend an hour with her than a lifetime with his closest friends, and even that thought doesn't scare him. Because she's his best friend. She's his other half and his favorite girl in the world. He's actually excited to have the place to themselves tonight.

The two doze off, sent to sleep by their aching bodies and pounding headaches. When they awake they don't necessarily feel refreshed, but they feel a little less like death, and that's good enough to crawl out of their den and order a pizza. They munch and gossip and watch a collection of movies, giddy to be with each other and in paradise.

“Do you think she’s in it for his money?” Ethan whispers with a glint in his eye, his hands on top of her bare thighs and a smile on his lips.

She nods around her slice of pizza, the gooey cheese slipping off the crust and sending her cackling as she tries to catch it. She stares over at the screen for a moment, grinning at Ferris Bueller and all his antics, before swallowing. “I think they really love each other, just never more than they’ll love themselves. And the money is definitely a perk, I mean, look at this place,” she says, pointing to the high ceilings of the living room. “Could get lost in here.”

Ethan nods and grabs another piece from the box, chowing it down in a few bites. “No kidding. Carlos’s head is too big for his body, I think he’d marry a mirror if he could.”

It’s all lighthearted; Ethan would die for Carlos, and (Y/N) would die for Marcy. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

(Y/N) giggles and tangles her fingers with Ethan’s where they lie on her legs. “Bet they’ll buy this mansion and live in paradise forever.”

He nods and smiles and hopes it’s true. They deserve their own kind of happiness—it isn’t his place to judge. He’s already the happiest he could be. “Could you ever live in a place like this?”

She tears her gaze away from the movie and shrugs a shoulder. “Dunno. I don’t think I’d ever be opposed to a mansion, but I definitely don’t need it,” she snorts. “I’d be happy in a cardboard box if you’re in there with me.”

Ethan’s stomach swoops at the domesticity of her comment, the way she says it casually, confidently, comfortably like the thought doesn’t scare her one bit. “Good, ‘cause I can’t afford this,” he laughs, taking down the last bite of his pizza and falling into her arms. She chuckles and wraps him up, cradles him like the baby he is sometimes, and he lays comfortably between her legs with his head on her chest. They talk forever about nothing and their minds don’t stray to their friends crazy night out once.

Around two in the morning, they find themselves in the kitchen, (Y/N) propped up on the granite island with her legs dangling off the sides and Ethan raiding the cabinets. Music is playing off the speaker from Ethan’s phone, and they both have the case of the giggles. God, they’re so in love.

“Want some whip cream?” Ethan asks with his head buried in the refrigerator like an emu.

“Is that a question?” she replies, though it comes out funny with her mouth stuffed with doritos. He tosses her the bottle blindly and she catches it, tipping the bottle above her head and spraying a good glob past her lips. Then, she hears the opening chords of a guitar and she gasps, sending her coughing.

Ethan’s only a little concerned because she’s laughing so hard during all of it, but he turns to check on her. “Are you o-?”

“There once was a bittersweet man and they called him lemon boy,” (Y/N) sings, hopping down from her counter throne and smirking at him smugly.

“No,” Ethan groans, laughing outright and groaning into his hands.

“He was growing in my garden and I pulled him out by his hair, like a weed,” she taunts, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging. Ethan reaches out and pinches her side, and she scampers around the island to escape him, giggling still.

“(Y/N), don’t,” he whines, embarrassment flooding his features. He begins racing around the table to catch her and muffle her teasing, but she’s quick and bubbling with laughter.

“Lemon Boy and me started to get along, together,” she squeals, barely dodging his grabbing hands. “I helped him- Eek!”

“Quit it!” he calls through laughter, his fingers skimming the back of the giant tee shirt flowing from her back.

“It’s actually pretty easy, being nice, to a bitter boy like him,” she cheers, her hands raised above her head joyously with her eyes closed. Ethan pauses where he trails behind her and just waits for her to run into him blindly. She does, falls flat against his frame, and throws her arms around his neck in defeat. “So I got myself, a citrus friend!” she cries, swaying the two of them back and forth.

Ethan doesn’t have the heart to be even the least annoyed, because she is just perfect for him. It has been long, so, so long since he’s been bitter. He slides his hand up the back of her shirt and rubs his thumb over the ink below her shoulder blade, grinning to himself. Feels too good to be true sometimes. He takes her vulnerability as an opportunity to tickle her until she screams.

He has his hands around her sides, wiggling his fingers all around her tummy and her sides and under her arms, and she’s screeching and begging him to stop, but he loves the way she laughs so he doesn’t. He throws her over his shoulder and smacks her bum, races around the island some more and chuckles at the way she squeals. He feels like a kid with her and he never wants to grow up. 

He never wants to grow up.

“Lemon boy and I, we’re gonna live forever,” she sings still, hung upside down on him.

“Like Snufkin and Little My, we’ll get around, wherever,” he chimes in much to her delight. She smacks his back and pleads for him to put him down, that the turbulence on this ride is worse than their Spirit Airline flight down to Miami.

He obliges and lifts her back to her righteous spot on the island, sliding into the space between her legs. “Yeah we’re the bitterest guys around, and I got myself, a citrus friend,” she finishes, placing her palm on his bare chest and pressing his mouth to his cheek with a loud smack. They’re out of breath and still so giggly, but then they’re sharing one of their looks, one of their lovey-dovey looks, one of their looks that makes all the other friends cringe and groan out loud, and Ethan’s so happy that they have the house all to themselves tonight. It feels like a honeymoon.

“Love you,” he whispers and plants a kiss on her forehead in return. He means it more than ever.

“Love you more,” she murmurs back.

Ethan hears a series of beats and a single guitar strum before he realizes what song is drifting through the air. “Ever heard this song?” he asks quietly, his hands settling at her waist. She shakes her head and slips her arms around his neck, already rocking back and forth to the easy music. “’S called Japanese Denim. It’s one of my favorites,” he explains as he burrows his nose in her hair.

“Sing it to me,” she says.

Ethan isn’t much of a singer. It doesn’t matter. He wants her to know that he thinks of her during every cheesy love song.

He hums to the tune and begins his serenade. “You’re my four leaf clover, I’m so in love, so in love,” he rasps out, squeezing her tight to him. He takes the time to pull back and kiss her slow and soft, as sweet as their first time. “My blue jeans,” he coos. “Will last me all my life. So should we, I’m spending all this time…”

She runs her fingers through the bangs of his tousled hair and smooths her thumb over his cheekbone. She loves him and she’ll love him forever.

“I’m reaching Nirvana, goodbye sweet Rwanda,” he continues, chuckling as he speaks the next bit, “High school was never for me. I say let it be, let it be, Forever’s a long time.”

High school has never felt further away with Ethan so happy, so optimistic, so friendly, so sociable. He can’t even remember the names of the terrible people, the words of their comments, the spots where they bruised him, the dates that he cried. He can’t imagine where they are now, and he never wants to. High school gave him his most prized possession, his best friend, his future wife, his soulmate, his other half. He couldn’t be more grateful.

They sway softly, trapped in their one little world. They don’t even notice when the group comes home, quiet with hoarse throats and all boozed out. But they find the couple in the kitchen, dancing in place to a love song, more in love than they could ever hope for themselves. They’re tucked in on each other and mumbling about something the crew can’t hear, and none of them have the heart—not even Grayson or Baasim— to break up their moment, so they just grin to themselves and slip off to bed. They just hope they’re all part of their wedding in the near future.

If Ethan could hear their thoughts, he would tell them they don’t have to worry. He’s already decided to propose right after graduation. And he knows just how he’s going to do it.

-

NEXT: 3½ | It’s U

[polygarnstars]

part 1: 4, 12, 15, 18, and 19

If you think I’m going to have common sense and not answer all of these in a single post, I have Bad News lmao

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Smart, mostly. “Gifted”. This very much Did Not Last lmaoooo

12. name of your favorite playlist? I literally never make playlists I’m a stupid fuck who uses their spotify premium to skip freely through all my thousands of liked songs on shuffle until I find something I want to listen to lmaooooo (Having said that: Rey and I put together a playlist for some characters we were entering a contest to win last fall which I titled Story and Song after the TAZ arc and also because we wrote Way Too Much for it and I’m Very Proud Of That)

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? Okay upon reading this I initially genuinely couldn’t remember any of the books I read in school because for the last several years of my schooling I just fuckin Sparknotes and TV Tropes-ed everything lmao... having said that, I do remember enjoying Maus! It was neat having a graphic novel assigned amongst all the “literary classics” that I couldn’t sit through a sitting of without falling asleep, and it may be the furry in me but the depiction of the characters/people as animals was Good :0c See, if all history was depicted with methods like this, I’d maybe actually be able to remember it ghfdjhgjfkdl

18. ideal weather? Depends on the day, but generally: Between like 65-80°F, not humid, not a lot of wind, and either sunny, partly cloudy, or drizzly but not outright storming. Basically decent temperatures without feeling like I’m walking through soup because of the humidity and weather that’s not completely gray and boring. Aka what Maine basically never is lmaoooo

19. sleeping position? I change positions every five minutes I swear to god (don’t take that out of context gfhdjbhvjd). Usually with at least one arm draped over a pillow that is Definitely Not Being Mentally Portrayed As A Character I Like To Supplement The Fact That I Did Not Get Enough Affection To Be A Functional Adult As A Child ghfdjknbhgfjdk

21. obsession from childhood? bold of you to assume i don’t still obsess over nintendo games (and just video games in general tbh)

23. strange habits? OKAY I COULDN’T THINK OF ANYTHING FOR THIS AT FIRST BUT I HAVE ONE NOW: MIDNIGHT FRIES

28. five songs to describe you? Speeding - LightsDaydreaming - ParamoreMusic - Mystery SkullsNo Lullaby - SIAMÉSLonely Dance - Set If Off+Bonus because it came up on Spotify while I was shuffling for songs for this and it’s a Mood: Pineapples Do Not Belong on a Pizza - Vargskelethor

29. best way to bond with you? I don’t know I usually just scream about ocs or video games with people and suddenly it’s been a year??? @riskreyes how has it been a year since we started talking but also how has it only been a year??? Wild bvhfdjkbhvgfjdk

30. places that you find sacred? Lmao I’ve never had anywhere like that really. Need a goddamn lock on my door :p I guess... the woods by my house? As a little kid before things got shitty my neighbor’s cousin or niece or something would go out there wandering around catching frogs and stuff in the spring or almost falling into the frozen streams during winter. When things started to go to shit in my life as a teenager I would hide out there to get away and nobody would find me. I haven’t been recently but the last time I did my friend and I walked along the train tracks and dove off into the woods by the side to avoid the amtrak coming by, it was great lmao. Uhh, other than that... I dunno, Boston and New York and New London all make me feel good to visit. Probably mostly because during those trips I don’t feel trapped in a dying land like Maine feels like bgvhfdjkhvgfjd

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? ......my entire wardrobe is my work outfit, excessive graphic tees, and jeans. So uhh... I dunno. I guess my NWTB shirts are pretty rad, I’d kick a dude’s ass wearing Nate’s merch

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? if i have to see another ad for some fuckin branch of the us military while i’m just out here trying to watch people play video games i swear to god-

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Oh boy I don’t know how weird these are but do you want a list??? I can give you a list hang on- In 4th grade we had a day of class where we all just had a party and ate chips and salsa and stuff because the pats won the super bowl and our teacher was Obsessed- In middle school my math class started working out of college textbooks, which is a bit much when you’re 11, advanced classes or no. Yet somehow none of the other students had any problems with this- Also in middle school, the school counselor really wasn’t very Good at his job so I usually just ended up playing Rock Band in his office instead of talking out any of my Many, Many Problems. I played the drums, for the record- Also in middle school, one time I straight up fell down a flight of stairs? Like, a full flight of stairs. Fuckin somersaulting down the stairs. The binder I was carrying broke open, papers went everywhere, my arm got cut open somewhere along the way and started bleeding. I get to the bottom, the other students are staring at me in horror, aforementioned counselor fuckin steps out of his office which is, of course, right at the bottom of the stairs, all concerned because what the fuck a kid just fell down the stairs, right? And so I, laying on the floor disoriented and laughing, declare, and I quote: “That was fun, let’s do it again!”- THE MOTHERFUCKING MAC AND CHEESE MUFFINS IN HIGH SCHOOL. Macaroni and cheese baked into the sweet batter of a muffin. I refused to touch the stuff but a friend of my did and it was bad enough he had to go to the trash can and fucking empty his stomach in it.- SAID FRIEND ALSO MANAGED TO GET A CARTON OF MILK THAT EXPIRED A MONTH BEFORE SCHOOL STARTED AT THE START OF ONE OF OUR YEARS IN HIGH SCHOOL and if I didn’t trust cafeteria food before that sealed the deal on me Never Trusting It Again- OH BUT SPEAKING OF CAFETERIA FOOD one time in the old school before the renovation, in like freshman year I think? I laughed so hard a piece of spicy chicken strip flew up my windpipe and got stuck in my nose and it was too big for me to snort out so I had to suck it back down and for the rest of the day all I could smell was burning- ON ANOTHER FOOD RELATED TOPIC down in the library I was on my iPad and 3DS because I had Long Since Given Up On School and some asshole dudes threw a rotting orange at me and it splattered all over the screens of both? So I picked up the remains and chucked it back at them and yelled “Do you wanna fucking NOT?” and they all ran off. The librarian heard me yell and saw me throw the orange back at them and she just didn’t give a fuck lmao- The librarians at my school were cool as shit really during one of our years we had to do x hours of volunteer work so I did some adjustments to the library catalogue for mine but the thing is I was fast enough at it that there really wasn’t enough to fill up my required hours so instead of giving me more to do they just sort of let me and my friends hang out playing Yu-Gi-Oh and called that good lmao. (For the record I only had one starter deck so I let my friend pick half of the cards and I would use the half she didn’t want. I managed to fuckin WRECK her with throwaways it was Iconicque)- OKAY ONE LAST LIBRARY STORY on the last day of finals I was hanging out in one of the smart tv rooms in the library right? My last finals weren’t for a few hours and lord knows I wasn’t gonna study, ADHD ass couldn’t do that and I’d already given up on school lmao. So I fucking... I brought my Wii U to school, hooked it up to the smart tv, and just started playing Splatoon there in the library. One of the librarians walked past to check on everyone, stopped at my room, watched me play for a minute (I noticed her and just sort of nodded and waved like ‘Sup’ so she Knew what was going on), and then just LEFT. Like, she didn’t give a fuck. Shoutout to the librarians, the Chillest- ALRIGHT LAST STORY LAST STORY I straight up never got all the credits I needed to graduate lmao. I was missing half a credit but they let me go anyway and to this day I cite the reason as being my high scores on the SAT/PSAT? I was the first student at the school in like, a decade, to have gotten an award from the National Merit Scholarship Corporation for my performance on them, and I guess they must have thought that me failing to graduate on time would look bad on them because, uh, yeah, it would, if people found out their teachers couldn’t handle a ~smart kid~ to the point that they did poorly enough to not even graduate with the rest of their class nobody would be willing to send their kids there lmao. And that’s the story of how I graduated when I wasn’t technically supposed to!!!

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? That’s a good fuckin question hey shit memory what was that thing that made us laugh so hard we couldn’t breathe again?...Don’t remember? Yeah I thought so lmaoI dunno, probably a joke in some let’s play? Or... god. Now that I think about it was probably the Slicer of T’pire Weir Isles moment actually. Holy shit, that was good.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? That I’ve ever tried? Jesus, I dunno, I have issues with texture more than flavor. I Refuse to eat my mother’s stuffing because it’s literally just soggy ass bread. In terms of pure flavor alone? Her shepherds pie. It’s just... there is no flavor. It’s like eating cardboard. I’m begging you, De, use seasoning. If I ever have to eat shepherds pie that just tastes like tin from canned peas and vague hints of unseasoned beef again I’m going to go on a murderous rampage.That said? F in the chat to Cameron for that mac and cheese muffin. Rest in pieces

73. favorite weird flavor combo? GVFHDJBVDN JUST GONNA MAKE ME SHARE THE DILL PICKLE/CHOCOLATE PUDDING PACK COMBO FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE HUH

93. nicknames? Gar, Garn, Lane, Bill, Master, Pants, Shortpants. The first three are self-explanatory, first two are shortenings of my name and then my masc/surname. The latter four come from usernames of mine - Bill from Bill Ciforce (If you stack a Bill Cipher on top of two other Bill Ciphers, you get the Ciforce), Master, Pants, and Shortpants from MasterShortpants in reference to one of Link’s nicknames in Skyward Sword

95. favorite app on your phone? Does the internet app count? No? Lmao. Spotify I guess :p Need me some Tunes

[ships-sailing-in-the-night]

Book Recommendations

Here is a super short list of books I magically had time to read this summer.

1) Hush Hush Series - Becca Fitzpatrick (Hush Hush, Crescendo, Silence, Finale)

Quick Summary: The main character, Nora, comes to biology class one day and is partnered up with a boy named Patch. She’s never seen him before and he immediately drives her crazy. However, as the story progress, she can’t help but wonder what his story is and where he came from. Something happens while the two are at an amusement park and that's when things become complicated and dangerous.

My Review: Honestly, this is one of the best series I have ever read. If you are a Deckerstar fan or love Fallen Angels falling in love with mortal beings then this series is great. Their chemistry is amazing, they bicker a bit, there is some angst, but they will do anything for each other. They remind me of Deckerstar so much and I instantly fell in love with the series and them. You never know whats coming, the twists and turns are endless. Highly recommend!

Quote 1: 

“You're a guardian angel now." I was still too much in awe to wrap my mind around it, but at the same time I felt amazement, curiosity...happiness. "I'm your guardian angel," he said. "I get my very own guardian angel? What, exactly, is your job description?" "Guard your body." His smile tipped higher. "I take my job seriously, which means I'm going to need to get acquainted with the subject matter on a personal level.” 

Quote 2: 

“You think the two of us and a slummy motel make for a dangerous combination?” 

Quote 3: 

“The subject’s pulse increased on contact,” he said. “Don’t write that.”

2) Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard (Red Queen, Glass Sword, Kings Cage, War Storm)

Quick Intro: This series deals with a girl named Mare Barrow. The society she lives in is divided between the Silvers (Silver Blood, Elite Class) and the Reds (Red Bloods, Lower Class). The silvers are each born with a special gift (Control of Fire, Minds Reader/Controler, Manipulate Perception, Teleportation, etc). The King and Queen have 2 sons: Tiberias Calore VII (mother deceased), and his half-brother Maven Calore (born of the Queen). Both are Burners and have the power to control fire. Mare gets thrown into their world and things change when she discovers she too has powers. She is a Red and Reds are not supposed to possess power.

My Review: I’m currently on the fourth book of this series and all I can say is WOW. This series always has me trapped, wanting to read more and more. Sometimes reading more is never enough to quench my thirst. I find myself become attached to all the characters, especially the villains. Again, highly recommend! 

Quote 1: 

“I am the king and you could've been my Red Queen.” 

Quote 2: 

“You believe you are the masters of the world, but your reign as kings and gods is at an end. Until you recognize us as human, as equal, the fight will be at your door. Not on a battlefield but in your cities. In your streets. In your homes. You don't see us, and so we are everywhere. ... And we will rise up, Red as the dawn.” 

Quote 3: 

“Thief,” he says, a strange surprise in his voice.

I blink at him, fighting the urge to laugh. I don’t even have the strength to protest. “Obviously.”

3) The Fourth Element Series - Kat Ross (The Midnight Sea, Blood of the Prophet, Queen of Chaos)

Quick Intro: When Nazafareen was younger, her sister is killed by a dark evil in front of her. For revenge, she joins the Waterdogs and is bonded with a daeva named Darius, who she despises. He is a human in body but possesses power. The golden cuffs around their wrists let them become stronger physically, but also become closer emotionally. As the series progresses Nazafareen realizes the Water Dogs are not all that they seem to be as an ancient Evil threatens the land.

My Review: In all honesty, it started out a bit slow in the beginning but after she joined the Waterdogs things began to pick up. Nazafareen’s bond with her Daeva, Darius, really adds a whole new level to the story, as well as the other Daevas and their bonded. Relationships are tested, secrets are revealed and what you think to be real changes constantly as the journey continues. Definitely recommend!

Quote 1:

“One day I decided that since I had to endure the water blessing every morning at dawn, I might as well go perform it with him. So I went down to the river. As before, he was stripped to the waist. But this wasn't the boy I remembered. Darius was twenty now, lean and hard. I paused and prayed to the Holy Father that he had his walls up against me.”

Quote 2:

“I took a step back. I couldn´t help it. His daeva? I´m not sure what I expected. Horns and a forked tail, perhaps. A creature as ugly on the outside as it was on the inside. But they looked just like us.” 

Quote 3:

“And you joined the Water Dogs because of her”

“Yes. I thought it would make her stop hunting me”

“Did it?”

“No.” I turned so I could look at him. “You did”

“Me?”

“I was too busy worrying about what a thorn in my side you were to obsess about it anymore. One nightmare at a time please.”

4) Fallen Series - Lauren Kate (Fallen, Torment, Rapture, Passion)

Quick Intro: Lucinda ‘Luce’ Price is sent to Sword & Cross Reform School after she is accused of murdering a boy by starting a fire. While at the school she also meets the fearsome Randy, Todd, Gabbe, Arriane, Penn and Cameron, an attractive, dark-haired boy. She also comes across a blonde boy named Daniel Grigori who she swears she has met before, even though he says otherwise. Though she believes this could be her new start in life, darkness surely follows.

My Review: I am only on the third book as of now but I really enjoy the series. The first book was great and again, Luce and Daniel had some major Deckerstar vibes. They are soulmates. This series touches a lot into religion, fallen angels, and reincarnation. I definitely would recommend it!

Quote 1:

“We meet. We always meet, somehow we're always thrown together, no matter where I go, no matter how I try to distance myself from you. It never matters. You always find me.”

Quote 2:

“Soooo," Arriane said. "Now you've met Randy."

"I thought his name was Cam."

"We're not talking about him," Arriane said quickly. "I mean the she-man in there." Arriane jerked her head toward the office where they'd left the attendant in front of the TV. "Whaddya think-dude or chick?"

"Uh, chick?" Luce said tentativley. "Is this a test?"

Arriane cracked a smile. "The first of many. And you passed. At least, I think you passed. The gender of most of the faculty here is an ongoing, schoolwiide debate. Don't worry, you'll get into it.” 

Quote 3:

“Oh. My. God. They were fighting. In the library. Over her.”

[simplyrali]

Hope Chapter 3 (Jameron fanfiction)

Warning: After the horizontal line the fic becomes Rated M, so you can skip that if you want...

Chapter 3

Cameron and Joe spent the entire afternoon talking, catching up. Years had come and gone but they were still the people who understood each other the best. All decisions they’ve made, some right, some wrong, had their prices and had cost them pain. But there was no judgement in the other’s eyes, just love and forgiveness.

Both have matured enough to know that they were just humans. And no human being is perfect. Everyone makes mistakes and small acts at the time, may have bigger impact later. What was important back then felt insignificant now.

What was the point of always chasing perfection and the future, if they couldn’t enjoy what they had at the moment and couldn’t actually see how beautiful it was? They wanted everything immediately, always rushing things. In just a few months they made big jumps in their relationship, jumps that they weren’t ready for. That’s what destroyed them. At the end fear from growing old alone and reevaluation of what’s important in life helped them find their way back to each other.

They went for a walk on one of the Bay Area beaches. It was early autumn and the waters were chill, but the place was beautiful, just perfect for sunbathing and picnicking. The waves were huge and no one was in the water, but the beach was full of families playing with their kids, children flying kites, people walking their dogs, everyone just enjoying the last sun rays of the summer. The couple sat on the sand and enjoyed the view. It felt so natural. It felt just right.

They shared a lot that day. Joe explained why he chose to leave town, how his new carrier had given him the confidence and the love he needed and after a long time he finally felt content with where he was. And although it wasn’t something he wanted to do for the rest of his life, he looked at it like a way to redeem his sins by helping and guiding others.

Cameron told him about her trip to her mom and how she tried to mend the relationship with the only family member that she got. How she spent two weeks there and found out they had a lot in common and  maybe they deserved a second chance. After her journey she came back here to start business with Donna, because the thing with Alexa turned out to be complete bullshit, but that didn’t quite work out either. So now she had a company developing AI games that she managed alone.

When it started to get dark, they went to his hotel room to get his luggage and drove off to her house. Her land was just as magical as he remembered. So green and peaceful. But now in the middle of the field there was a big house with wooden deck. The building was in soft cream color with multiple windows that let sunshine in. There were a couple of chairs and a table outside, she probably read books there or worked on her laptop... In front of the house a small garden with flowers caught his eye, he never imagined Cam as the gardening type but she always found new ways to amaze him. It was actually sweet that she let her feminine side show in such subtle way. She always had a great attention to detail.

He noticed her Airstream parked nearby and looking through its window he could tell everything inside was a mess, just like her any other workplace has ever been.      

“Welcome to your new home. I’m sorry for the mess, but I wasn’t expecting visitors.”  Cam said, while opening the front door.

He stepped inside. The rooms were all pale green, which didn’t surprise him since she always loved that color. It made her eyes even more captivating. The walls were covered with photos of her and her important people – her dad, her mom, Him, Bos, Gordon, Donna and the girls. He saw himself too which made him smile tenderly, this amazing woman who turned his world upside down still loved him.

Cam had a library in her living room, long shelves full of books, some he recognized and remembered giving to her, others she found on her own, developing her own taste in literature. When he met her after Japan she seemed so lost, she lived like a chameleon, becoming what circumstances needed her to be, simply adapting to the lifestyle of her partner. Now she was a complete person, with her own likes and dislikes, with opinion and habits.

“It’s really nice.” It really was, it felt like home.

Their home.

“Well, I’m glad you like it.  No stripper pole though, I know you wanted one… Building it took 9 months but it was worth it.” Cam opened one of the kitchen cabinets above the sink and pulled two glasses. “Wine? I have beer too, but you always preferred wine, so…”

“Sure.” Joe sat on her couch and watched her as she moved.

Cameron came with the glasses and sat next to him with body completely turned towards him. Her full attention on Joe.

“You know, it’s so good to talk with you again.” Joe said and watched how her eyes got misty. Long lashes not allowing the tears to fall.

“I’ve missed it too.” She lowered her eyes and stared thoughtfully in the red liquid.

“Shall we celebrate?” Joe picked his glass from the table.

“Celebrate what exactly? Dumb decisions? ” Cam laughed.

“No, for those we need whiskey.” Joe said. “I meant us. Cheers to new beginnings!”

“Cheers!” She liked that, she really liked that toast.

After a bottle of wine and a few packets of chips that Cam found in one of the cabinets, they sat on the floor, table pushed aside and backs against the couch, talking about everything and nothing for hours. It reminded Cam of their long phone call back when she was in San Jose.

The distance between them slowly grew smaller and smaller until right after some stupid joke about Billy Joel Joe kissed her. Just a gentle peck on the lips. He drew back to watch her reaction, wanting permission. She never spoke a word but what he saw in her eyes was enough. Then he came back for another kiss, this one more lingering. Lips moved slowly and tenderly against each other, tongues intertwined. When they drew apart for air, both were breathing fast. Cam touched her forehead to his and stared into his eyes.

“Bedroom?” she asked with rosy cheeks. Although the blush wasn’t because she was shy around him, that phase was long gone, no, just the mixture of wine and desire.

“Yes, lead the way.” He had a note of desperation in his voice. He kissed her on the neck and made the little noise at the back of his throat, that she loved so much, it was almost like a growl. It always made her wet and brought out the animal in her. She took his hand and guided him.

Joe looked into Cameron’s eyes, illuminated by the moonlight. They sat on her bed with her straddling him. He pulled her closer to him, letting her feel his growing erection. She gasped in shaky breaths as she came into contact with him. God, how she missed this, missed him. His scent surrounded her, his hands embracing her, their bodies touching, he was everywhere.

He buried his hands in her shoulder length hair and pulled her for another deep kiss. She melted against him and let out a shuddering breath.

He moved them so that she was beneath him. Joe started moving down leaving a path of wet kisses, starting from her neck, between her breasts, her belly and stopping between her thighs.

Cam gasped as he pressed his fingers against her. Joe gently slid two fingers into her tight entrance before closing his mouth around her clit. His tongue circling her.

“Shit! Oh m-my God!” She stuttered as he repeated the motion.

She arched her back of the bed as he kept going. He loved her taste, always had. She was sweet and addicting. He could spend hours pleasuring her, watching her tremble beneath him and moaning his name. But they both knew that Cam won’t stay down for long. She liked giving pleasure just as much as receiving it. To be honest she was probably the most eager and giving lover he ever had.

Cameron was close.

“Macmillan. Up. Now.”

Joe ignored her. No, he would give her this one. Her legs started shacking, her belly quivered. Close, so close.

“Joe!” She buried her hands in his hair and held him there while she rode her orgasm.

He slowly pulled out his fingers and gently kissed her there like he would her mouth. He loved every part of her and couldn’t believe how stupid he was to walk away from her.

He came face to face with her, their noses touching. Joe aligned his throbbing cock with her pussy. Just teasing not entering, not yet.

“Oh God, Joe, I need you. Stop fucking around!” She was losing her patience.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m going to return the favor.” She smiled like the Cheshire Cat. She pushed him on his back and took his length in her mouth.

Joe’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Pleasure blinding all his senses.

He felt smooth on her tongue. She loved giving him this, she loved feeling powerful and having this beautiful strong man at her mercy, trashing his head and begging for more.

“Cam, stop! Believe me, we both don’t want this to be over so soon.” There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

“Oh, so NOW we’re on the same page?” Cam said, smiled and licked her lips.

She straddled him again thinking she was controlling the situation, but he spun her around and she was beneath him once more. Joe couldn’t deny their power play turned him on even more. He liked when she was on top, he got the most beautiful view then, but tonight she would be the one to surrender.

“Tell me what you want, Cam.” He was trailing kisses down her neck.

“You.”

“Tell me you love me.” He lifted his head and looked into her mesmerizing eyes.

“I love you, Joe. I always have.”

She was his.

She felt the heat of his cock right before he entered her. They both held their breath at that moment. Time froze for a second. How it was possible for something to feel so right? It was like they were made for each other.

Two halves of a whole.

Thrust after thrust they connected their souls again, drank life from each other. As their tempo grew faster their kisses grew more bruising. Both franticly chasing the wanted climax. He let out a growl and quickened even more their lovemaking. He thrusted  harder and faster making her moan and jerk against him. The sound of skin slapping against skin began to numb their senses as they became desperate to feel each other. 

Soon she was shuddering against him, legs closed around his waist holding him close.

“Joe, don’t stop! I’m coming!”

She came with a scream, his name on her lips.

After a few more thrusts, he buried his head in her neck, growled and bit there as he emptied himself in her.

He rolled on his side afraid he might be crushing her with his weight. Joe stretched out one arm, an invitation for her. Cam took it and laid her head on his chest. With one arm she started tracing his scars, loving the imperfect skin. It showed her that he was only human, the great Joe Macmillan wasn’t invincible after all, but it also showed how strong he was – he survived and moved on.

“Just so you know, the rent here is not paid monthly. Maybe we can figure out something - a few times a week… or daily.”

He laughed at that remembering their earlier arrangement and kissed the top of her head.

He loved that woman.

“Do you accept payments in advance?”

Chapter 4 ---> https://simplyrali.tumblr.com/post/167732216645/hope-chapter-4-jameron-fanfiction

[jeremystrele]

A Magazine Maven’s Sentimental Good Room In The Southern Highlands

A Magazine Maven’s Sentimental Good Room In The Southern Highlands

The Good Room

Lisa Marie Corso

Robyn Holt’s grand yet cosy Good Room in New South Wales’ Southern Highlands. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

Although Robyn has only lived in this house for the last four years, she’s made it feel like she’s been there forever! Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

Ex Condé Nast CEO and business consultant/mentor Robyn Holt in her Good Room. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

‘For me a good room has the patina of time and includes personal collections of books, objects and things that offer connection’ says Robyn. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

A well-stocked book shelf. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

A collection of eclectic books, paintings and sculptures. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

Another view of Robyn’s Good Room. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

Details from Robyn’s Good Room. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

Sentimental pieces collected over the years. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

Botanical drawings and a mini bar. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

Robyn is a book fanatic, and has amassed quite the collection, some kept from when she was a child. Photo – Caitlin Mills for The Design Files. Styling – Annie Portelli.

“I’ve literally been talking about moving to the Southern Highlands for 20 years,” business mentor and major magazine maven Robyn Holt says. But the timing was never quite right, until four years ago when Robyn and her husband were in a position to split their time between the city and the country. “I thought, why not have a go at it?” she says. “So, we sold our house and bought an apartment in the city, and a wooden house on five acres in Exeter, which is about 135km from Sydney in the Southern Highlands.”

Robyn has built a career on being a good decision maker, and guides others to make them too. She was previously CEO of Conde Nast in both Australia and Russia, before moving to London where she worked with Tyler Brûlé to launch Monocle magazine. Robyn eventually found her way back to Sydney, where she currently works as a business consultant and mentor.

Working as a consultant for interior designer Cameron Kimber ultimately led Robyn to her own good room, when she and her husband started renovations on their country house. “Cameron helped us get the very best out of our ideas,” she says. “When you’re doing your own interiors, you realise there’s so much choice and you really need someone to help you edit.”

Robyn’s vision for this room was to bring “a life lived” into a new space. Of course, a new house is always a canvas for a new beginning, but Robyn wanted the room to feel like home, with the personal stuff she’d collected over the years.

“I wanted to use the things I had gathered over the years because it’s these things that make a room feel like it’s been there for a long time,” she describes. “For me a good room has the patina of time, and includes personal collections of books, objects and things that offer connection.” And it’s a mantra she’s completely loyal to. Her good room is layered with furniture and paintings she’s had for 30 years, the couch she’s had for 25 years (she updated the slip cover), and the same book cases she’s had since she was twenty eight, stocked with books she’s collected since childhood.

“I am a book-a-phile beyond belief, and I believe having books really reflects who you are and what you love,” she says. “I’ve been collecting books since I was a child, they add warmth to a room in a way nothing else can do, I have books everywhere, ones I’ve bought, ones given to me and others from people who have passed.”

Robyn’s bookshelves bring her endless joy, and her home library is her greatest at-home passion. “I would love to start a company that provides a service to organise people’s bookshelves,” she confesses.

Positioned in the centre of the home, this open living, dining and kitchen space, is the place where Robyn and her family congregate, exhale and relax. “My husband is an amazing cook, and when my daughter’s family visits with my grandchildren it’s divine.” On the days though when it’s just Robyn in her good room by herself, she’s never truly alone. “I just pick up a book and read and I love it.”

[gayghosttt]

I wanna hear your answers to your questions thingie ☺️

Thank you I am avoiding studying for 3 finals rn lmao

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? More cereal, I do not like milk at all it makes me feel sick Every time lmao

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? Y e s I love being cold

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? mm usually a sticky note

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? I don’t really like tea but I usually have some kind of cold coffee or with cream and 2 sugar if its hot

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?  mmm kind of yes

6: do you keep plants? I don’t currently have any but I love having them

7: do you name your plants?  yes!!

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? currently more words than visual art

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? sometimes, I mostly do it in my head though

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?  I almost always sleep on my left side but I sometimes sleep on my right side or back

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends? long boy, CRACKS PANTS, What if i was Straight

12: what's your favorite planet? mm I actually don’t know a whole lot about any of them but I think neptune is Very pretty

13: what's something that made you smile today? my friend paige and I sent each other christmas cards and I got hers in the mail today!!

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? there would be his nerdy video game stuff Everywhere and my books and movies everywhere and a little bit of glitter on everything lmao

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! it is quiet Everywhere in space

16: what's your favorite pasta dish? lasagna is the actual love of my life

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?  BLUE OR DARK PURPLE

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. I do alot of dumb things lmao but last semester when I lived in a residence hall with my friends i was always shouting IM GAY down the hallway or kicking my leg up high to put it on the window ledge

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? I am very forgetful so I never keep a journal or sketchbook consistently 

20: what's your favorite eye color? brown

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. I don’t really have a bag that’s lasted a super long time but my little blue makeup bag used to be my sister’s and I’ve been using it since high school 

22: are you a morning person? If I’ve slept enough then yes but when I have classes at 8 am,, no

23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?  sleep in and watch movies

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? mmm probably Steven? He knows most of them already

25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into? THE CHURCH PARKING LOT WE GOT LOCKED INTO TOGETHER AT NIGHT

26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit? I rotate between like 3 pairs but I have some beat up black high tops I’ve had since high school that I love

27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor? usually just minty gum

28: sunrise or sunset?  sunset

29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? steven calls me everytime he’s driving home from school and we always say I love you before hanging up its gay and i love him v much

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? yes a few times

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. okay I get judged for it alot but I wear socks 24/7 I have Too many socks and theyre all cute and yes I wear socks to bed and I wear them all the fricking time I am uncomfy being barefoot

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. Nothing recently but last semester I used to stay up until like 4 am with alot of my friends watching movies and one time like 10 of us watched star wars and had snacks and had a big cuddle pile sleepover on the floor

33: what's your fave pastry? chocolate croissants 

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? mm I have a bunch still bc alot of them were given to me by someone sepcial/ for special reasons and one of my favorites is a pink bear with a dodgers hat that was from my dad when I was a kid

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? I do! If I have stationary I’ll use it to send people mail

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now? currently I’m listening to lana del rey and its fitting

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?  I am an organized messy person so I am like half and half

38: tell us about your pet peeves! when people invite themselves over/ just show up without asking, opening doors without knocking, chewing with your mouth open

39: what color do you wear the most? black

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you? I have a black ring I wear everyday that was from my sister and it makes me think of her since we don’t currently live in the same house while im at college

41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving? How to remodel a man by w. bruce cameron, I found it at the library and got it just bc it sounded like a funny title and it was genuinely the funniest book I’ve ever read I loved it 

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! Either 85 degrees down the street from me bc its really cute and the chocolate bread there is Amazing or coffee bean in my city cause it has a v nice atmosphere and the baristas all know my sister so they’re really friendly

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? I have no idea actually

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? ???????????

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?  I try to

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.  earlier Aaron and I were roasting Morrissey and I said that when moz cancels shows/doesnt show up bc he’s sick its like he just sneezes once and then he’s like,,, oh my god am I,,, Still Ill

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?  tuna

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? I don’t really remember tbh

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? yes!! last record was the Uni single release and its clear and v cool and the last cd was a paul mccartney one i think 

50: what's an odd thing you collect? pins mostly

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? I associate alot of music with a lot of people but one song that reminds me of you is little queenie by sad girl

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?  the one of the white guy making a confused face is maybe my fav

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? rocky and heathers and beetlejuice yes and I love them all v much, I watched pulp fiction once at like 3 am and i slept through alot of it by accident so I cannot give an accurate opinion

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? my sister

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point? im not sure but my middle name is dramatic So

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? when they genuinely want to know about how your day was, when they remember something you said a long time ago, when they bring you something out of the blue because they know you like it

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? yes alsways it is one of the best songs ever

58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?  I don’t currently have a solid Group of friends but between us I would say you are probably wine mom and i am vodka aunt lmao

59: what's your favorite myth? I love a lot but rn I love the loch ness monster 

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? yes but currently none are coming to mind lmao

61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received? sometimes I give steven glitter bc i love it and he Hates it lmao but I’m not sure if I’ve ever really gotten a stupid gift?

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? nope, usually just water

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? organized, not necessarily alphabetical or anything but I like things by the same author or artist to be together 

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? black

65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with? alot of my high school and college pals

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? mmm probably a lot of dark red roses and little white flowers

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? kinda depends but usually I like them

68: what's winter like where you live? usually cold and kinda rainy but lately its still in the 80s and hot

69: what are your favorite board games? bingo always

70: have you ever used a ouija board? no and I Maybe would??

71: what's your favorite kind of tea? not super into tea but i don’t mind green tea

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?  v much so

73: what are some of your worst habits? procrastinating, leaving water bottles on the floor, ignoring instructions 

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. they have brown hair and glasses and really pretty eyes and live in another country and are so sweet and remind me of a little fox

75: tell us about your pets! I don’t have any but my siblings both have fish and barry is my fav little guppy even though he’s a rude drama queen

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't? studying for my finals

77: pink or yellow lemonade? both but I like pink alot

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? h a t e

79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? one of my friends used to make me mixtape cds alot

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? at college they’re just white bc its a dorm but at home they’re blue and my dad and I painted them secretly one summer lmao

81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. looks like the inside of a blue gelpen

82: are/were you good in school? I try to be, I’ve always had a hard time in math and science classes but I’m good with artsy and english classes

83: what's some of your favorite album art? I have,,, to many to pick from

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? currently no? I’m very indecisive so I’m not sure what I would get bc I would want it to have a special meaning

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? not really but I wouldn’t mind

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? probably alot but ziggy stardust and sgt pepper come to mind first

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? eraserhead, big fish, and casablanca

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? mmm yes probably alot but rn I really like zines

89: are you close to your parents? my dad yes my mom is very up and down

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. I really love the Manhattan Beach area it’s always made me really happy since I was a kid something about it just always feels welcoming and familiar to me

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? not sure

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? depends on the pasta but generally I like alot of cheese

93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most? It’s always the same fluffy messy curly besides when I put it up in a little ponytail sometimes

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? my friend tori from high school

95: what are your plans for this weekend? going back home and Finally sleeping alot

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? it usually takes me about a week to finally stop being lazy and do them

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? I think I was ensj or insj or something like that last time i checked, I’m a gemini and I have no idea about my hogwarts house lmao

98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? probably a few years ago and it was pretty okay

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. there are a Lot but lust for life by the band girls always reminds me of myself and i’m listening to flatsound rn and alot of his music hits me hard bc I feel like that alot

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? as much as I would like to have things back from my past I would probably say future, I’d like to skip ahead a bit to when some things have changed and are hopefully better

[altoonapubliclibrary]

ShariAnn’s Last Hurrah Booklist

ShariAnn is leaving the library (boo) so she threw together a Top 10 List of books to remember her by (yay). The following are books that, in no particular order and for their own reasons, will stay with ShariAnn for the rest of her life. ShariAnn is also typing this intro in the third person for whatever reason. Enjoy. Feed by Mira Grant

Zombies, politics, blogging, and Coca-Cola? Everything I love in one book. Stuck with me because of its intersection of all my interests and how much I can relate to the leading lady. Very quotable. Many Mira Grant quotes grace my pinterest boards. 

A Thousand Pieces of You by Claudia Gray

Interdimensional travel + love triangle = equal parts historical and science fiction featuring a brave and creative heroine. (I also wrote an Off the Shelf review of this series) I now own the series I loved it so much.

Unwind by Neal Shusterman

Unwind was the first book that made me think critically about our culture and society. Before Unwind, I read books just to read stories. After, I read books looking for meaning and ways to relate fiction to reality. It changed my life immensely.

13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnson

Reading Maureen Johnson got me into John Green, who is now one of my favorite authors of all time. 13 LBE also inspired my wanderlust. I want to go everywhere now.

The Wild Robot by Peter Brown

The idea of a robot living in the wilderness was so intriguing to me, and the audiobook was beautifully narrated. I learned so much from Roz the robot.

I’d Tell You I Love You but Then I’d Have to Kill You by Ally Carter

This is a series I can remember anxiously awaiting the next book’s publication. Ally Carter was also one of the first authors I followed on twitter. YA Author twitter is amazing. This series expanded my reading interests beyond Nicholas Sparks and historical fiction (not that there was anything wrong with that!). 

The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth

Any book that made me ugly cry as much as Cameron Post deserves to be in every Top 10 List I could ever make. I can relate so much to Cameron’s experience and her story is one that is important not just for young queer women to read, but for anyone else who knows a queer woman (which is everyone, we’re everywhere).

Yes, Please by Amy Poehler

I love anything Amy Poehler does and grew up watching her on SNL. The best part about this book is going back to it. It’s separated into different sections, so depending on what I need out of a book at the moment, I can open up to any chapter. Plus it’s funny af. 

Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan

I had never finished a book by David Levithan until I picked up Two Boys Kissing. I read it in two hours and cried the whole time. It was shortly after I’d come out to a small group of friends, so reading about gay teens was slightly more emotional for me in 2013, than it is now. 

Turtles All the Way Down by John Green

Until this book was published, Paper Towns would have taken its place on this list. Turtles put into words so much of how I experience anxiety and it was life-changing for me. JG is one of my favorite writers, so it wouldn’t be a Top 10 list by me without him. 

[tanmath3-blog]

Influenced by Stephen King and Rod Serling, Sean Seebach has written three books: A Looking in View, Autumn Dark and Our Monsters Are Real: The Pig Man. When Sean isn’t writing or managing a wonderful barbecue joint with amazing people, he enjoys reading, cooking, and listening to rock n’ roll. He currently lives in Ohio with his wife, daughter, and son.

  Please help me welcome Sean Seebach to Roadie Notes……..

  1. How old were you when you first wrote your first story? I was probably in elementary school. I created a comic book with some “cool dude” who just did “cool things”. Cool things being riding a skateboard and hitting home runs, things like that. The first story was one called Blue Collar Diesel which I later named The Lake Shimmers. It’s terrible. I wrote that when I was 34. So I took the title Blue Collar Diesel and wrote a novella that better suited the title. It’s in my collection A Looking In View.

2. How many books have you written? I have written three books: Our Monster Are Real: The Pig Man, Autumn Dark, and A Looking In View.

3. Anything you won’t write about? Probably not. I tend to stick to what is called Quiet Horror. Nothing too graphic or obscene. That’s not really by choice. The story is the boss. I just try to transcribe what’s happening in my head the best I can.

4. Tell me about you. Age (if you don’t mind answering), married, kids, do you have another job etc… I was born in Lancaster, PA in 1980, moved to Columbus, OH around ’82. It wasn’t the best part of town, so I wasn’t allowed to leave the yard. At the time it was a bummer. Later on I realized being confined to just the front and back yard forced me to use my imagination. I could do (and be) whatever I wanted: a spy, a ninja, a jungle warrior, whatever. Then in 1988 I moved to Lithopolis, Ohio, population around 600 people. There, I could explore the woods and creeks, ride my bike, and go to The Wagnalls Memorial Library, which still stands and became the cornerstone for my development as a reader. I did my first book signing there in May of this year. It was surreal. I am married to a wonderful wife who supports me in every aspect of life. We have a baby girl and a son who just turned 2. I work as a restaurant manager by day/night, depending on my work schedule. Next to writing, cooking and working with fun people is one of my favorite things to do. I’m a very fortunate man.

5. What’s your favorite book you have written? I should probably say Autumn Dark. That book has gotten the best response from readers. But, in truth, because The Pig Man was the first it will always be special to me. I love the story, but it isn’t written as well as the others. Which to me is a good thing because it shows that I’m improving.

6. Who or what inspired you to write? I don’t really know who or what inspired me to write. I think it chose me. I had a desire to write in my mid-20’s but I didn’t have the courage to do it. I thought you were either hand-picked by God or were chosen by teachers at a young age. Maybe it was writer, director, screen writer, producer, and occasional actor Brian Koppelman. I found him on Twitter shortly after I gave up drinking three years ago. He had posted a series of Vines on his account. Vine was a service that featured 6 second video loops. Brian was giving people permission to create in the videos he made. I looked him up, saw his credentials (Rounders, Ocean’s 13, Solitary Man, among many others) and thought “Now, here’s someone who’s done amazing things and is telling people to go out and do it!” There are many videos and books out there that will say you must be some sort of special intellectual to be an artist. Those people are wrong and most are full of themselves, are bitter, and most haven’t accomplished much. Brian had. Following him then led me to The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron and The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. I was fortunate enough to have support in the beginning. Stephen King tweeted that he had a new story called A Death in The New Yorker and asked folks to comment on it. It was on their site and free to read. I thought, “Oh boy, who has the balls to critique it?” So I scrolled through the Twitter comments. There I found someone shamelessly self-promoting herself with a story she wrote called Alive. I read it and loved it. That person was Meagan Smith who then wrote as M.J. Pack. I reached out to her and we became fast friends. Shortly after she was hired on at Thought Catalog, an online publishing magazine. She asked to read my stuff. I sent her a cannibalistic story called The Best I Ever Had. She liked it and wanted to publish it. That gave me the confidence to crank out more stories. I’ve been writing regularly ever since. I owe her a great deal. She was kind of enough to write the Foreword for Autumn Dark which I’m very proud of. I’d like to collaborate with her one day. She’s a fierce talent. Also, during that time, author Tom Callahan befriended me. I reached out to him after reading his wonderful story called The Soldier, The Dancer, and All That Glitters from Dark City Lights, an anthology put together by the great American crime fiction author Lawrence Block. Tom and I emailed back and forth a lot. He read my stuff and encouraged me to write, write, write! He gave me advice and recommended a slew of books about writing to read. I owe him a great deal. And I continue to find support to this day. Author Lincoln Cole and I have become close over the years and he’s helped me in many ways. From creating a website to building a mailing list to formatting my books for self-publishing to finding cover artist (and author) M.N. Arzu to promotional tactics. He’s a good man and I also owe him a great deal. Just recently I did an interview with author Armand Rosamilia , also owner of Project Entertainment Network, for the Armcast Podcast. I also was invited in a flash fiction contest along with authors Stephen Kozeniewski, Gabino Iglesias, and Justin Bienvenue. Three big names in the horror community. Book reviewer David Spell has been in my corner since day one and I had the fortunate opportunity to meet him in Naperville, IL during Stephen and Owen King’s tour stop for Sleeping Beauties. And, now, this interview. Thank you, Becky! I’d also like to mention that since I’ve begun listening (and advertising) on The Horror Show with Brian Keene, a podcast dedicated to the genre, I’ve met all kinds of great people: readers and authors alike. It’s opened the door to many authors I was ignorant to before. It’s also highly entertaining. But none of this would be happening without the support of my wife. She’s my first reader, my Annie Wilkes, and I still like to make her laugh and cringe, and when I do, I know I have something worth publishing.

7. What do you like to do for fun? Watch movies. This year has been great for them. IT, Gerald’s Game, The Dark Tower, Baby Driver, 68 Kill. I’m really looking forward to seeing I’m Dreaming of a White Doomsday by writer/director Mike Lombardo. The World Premiere is happening in Columbus, OH on October 20th at 2p.m. at Nightmares Film Festival. I also recently went on a hike with a close friend. No internet, no social media. Just us and nature. It was awesome to not only spend time with him, but to also disconnect from the world for a few hours. It’s something we’ll be doing regularly, weather permitting. I run on a regular basis. It keeps the head clear and helps me cope with stress. I also like to cook, try new recipes, and eat. All with balance. Dessert is okay if it’s not for breakfast. Sometimes. The most fun I truly have is building blanket forts, going to the park, and reading to my son. He likes flip books and monsters and dinosaurs. We read Harold and The Purple Crayon, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Little Blue Truck… Watching him develop has been the ultimate high for me. I recently bought a stack of books off Mike Lombardo. YA horror, Goosebumps, Eerie Indiana, that sort of thing, for my kids when they get older. Maybe they’ll dig them like I did.

8. Any traditions you do when you finish a book? I go to Starbucks inside of the Barnes and Noble in the town over from me and get a piece of Red Velvet Cheesecake (they sell Cheesecake Factory cheesecake) and a coffee. Then I daydream that thousands of people will rejoice in being so entertained by something I created! Then I get nervous and think my writing is garbage then I publish it anyway and buy ad space on the Horror Show.

9. Where do you write? Quite or music? I write in my office in our basement at a desk. I used to write everywhere but I found in approaching writing like a part-time job its best for me to have a designated place to work. Like, I’m clocking in for the day! Time to go downstairs and get busy. I do write to music. I have a writing playlist on Spotify with four composers: Chad Lawson (who creates music for the Lore podcast), Lena Natalia, Danny Elfman, and most recently, Jon Hopkins. Most of it is classical. I get too distracted when I write to music with lyrics. There’s a Twin Peaks playlist on Spotify that I sometimes put on as well.

10. Anything you would change about your writing? The only thing I would change about my writing is improving it. Early next year I’ll be attending the Borderlands Press Writer’s Bootcamp in Maryland. I’m also reading How To Write Short by Roy Peter Clark. Once I’m finished with The Dark Tower Series, I’m going to start reading all the authors I’ve discovered from The Horror Show. One, for entertainment and, two, I think it’s good to read books by authors from different backgrounds. It gives the mind a new perspective on the world and offers a different voice, a different way to tell a story.

11. What is your dream? Famous writer? From a writing perspective, my dream is to become a full-time writer. As Brian Keene describes it, the main source of income. Now that I’m 37, the dream is to live long days upon the Earth (Dark Tower reference) with my wife and for us to raise our children to be loving, caring, responsible adults who follow their passion. Famous writer? No. Keep the fame. But I’ll gladly accept huge royalty checks!

12. Where do you live? A small town in Ohio. Surprise!

13. Pets? One dog, Chloe. She’s a German Shepherd. We took her in after my mother-in-law passed on. She’s great with the kids and patient with us.

14. What’s your favorite thing about writing? There’s a moment when I transcend into a story. The more I write, the more that happens. I’ll go back and polish what I wrote the previous day, sometimes not remembering certain lines that I had written. Sometimes I find myself next to the characters, oblivious to my surroundings. Sounds crazy (maybe it is) but it’s true. Writing makes me feel alive, as cliché as that sounds. It enriches my life. Also, one of the most rewarding things about it is when someone reaches out to tell you much they appreciated something you’ve created. That’s special. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s very touching.

15. What is coming next for you? A book called An American Monster. I won’t get into details because it’s not finished. I’m superstitious and if you’ve read anything I’ve ever wrote then you’ll know that I need all the luck I can get.

  You can connect with Sean Seebach here:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Sean-Seebach/e/B01CUT2JMK

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/seanAseebach/

Website: https://www.amazon.com/Sean-Seebach/e/B01CUT2JMK/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1507564303&sr=8-1

Twitter: @seebach_sean

  Some of Sean Seebach’s books:

  For more on the people I’ve mentioned, here are links to their work: Meagan Smith (M. J. Pack) https://www.amazon.com/M.J.-Pack/e/B00O5APGTQ/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1507563809&sr=8-1 Tom Callahan https://www.amazon.com/Dark-City-Lights-York-Stories-ebook/dp/B00USBMIMY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507563913&sr=8-1&keywords=dark+city+lights Brian Koppelman (no link. Just watch Billions on Showtime!) Lincoln Cole https://www.amazon.com/Lincoln-Cole/e/B00AUIOU3A/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564263&sr=8-2-ent M.N. Arzu https://www.amazon.com/M.-N.-Arzu/e/B013C7XY6O/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507563985&sr=1-2-ent Armand Rosamilia https://www.amazon.com/Armand-Rosamilia/e/B004S48J6G/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564017&sr=1-2-ent Stephen Kozeniewski https://www.amazon.com/Stephen-Kozeniewski/e/B00FFLC5Y8/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564054&sr=1-2-ent Gabino Iglesias https://www.amazon.com/Gabino-Iglesias/e/B00AEBI0T8/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564085&sr=1-2-ent Justin Bienvenue https://www.amazon.com/Justin-Bienvenue/e/B072F3QYGW/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1507564119&sr=1-2-ent David Spell https://thescaryreviews.com/ Sean Seebach https://www.amazon.com/Sean-Seebach/e/B01CUT2JMK/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1507564303&sr=8-1 Getting personal with Sean Seebach Influenced by Stephen King and Rod Serling, Sean Seebach has written three books: A Looking in View, Autumn Dark and Our Monsters Are Real: The Pig Man.

[thelondonfilmschool]

Making a Scene

Article by Sophie McVeigh, photography by Cameron Ward

The London Film School (LFS) prides itself on the collaborative nature of its courses, and while that’s more often than not related to film making itself, recent graduates Shalini Adnani and George Bartlett are proof that opportunities are everywhere if you’re open to them.

Having met in the LFS dark room, they discovered not only a shared love of photography, but also a passion for seeing the screenplay as a literary form aside from the film making process. With this in mind, Shalini, a Chilean-Indian graduate of the Filmmaking programme with a background in publishing and George, a recent British graduate from last year’s screenwriting masters who had previously worked as a journalist, decided to create Scenes - a bi-annual screenwriting and photography journal (the first print-version of its kind) to showcase the talents of budding screenwriters and photographers, and to foster critical thinking around the themes of each issue. We caught up with them at the BFI for its launch.

Sophie McVeigh: Hi, George and Shalini. It’s great to be here with you at the launch of Scenes Journal. How did you two come to be working together and what was the inspiration behind the journal?

G.B: We met each other during a dark room class and found we had similar taste in films and wanted to work together as a screenwriter and film maker. Then we started discussing how we read screenplays and how it’s perhaps misunderstood as a piece of literature in and of itself. So we wanted to push it out to a wider audience and get people reading screenplays.

S.M: Had you worked on anything similar before? And what was the process of getting it off the ground?

S.A: We hadn’t really worked on anything similar together but I worked in publishing before and that was my background. So, I just love books, I love touching things, and I wanted it to be tangible for us. I think there was a motivation to get screenplays on paper, in a format that people would appreciate reading. And the process… the process was quite long, especially for the first one. It required curating quite a bit, reaching out to people, trying to get them interested, and I think one of the hardest bits was trying to get people to understand what we were doing. Because a lot of people don’t understand, or didn’t grasp the concept of, reading screenplays. But, slowly, as people understood what we were trying to do, they actually really enjoyed it, because we watch all these films, and we love certain films, but then to read them and to see how a director actually envisaged it is kind of special. It’s very special. So the process really involved a mixture of all kinds of things, talking to people, getting things together, and then getting a designer involved and bringing it all together in a way that would be cohesive.

S.M: The theme of the first issue is ‘Our Past’. What was behind the choice of that subject and what are some of the highlights of the first issue?

S.A: The reason we ended up going for the past, at first we were really attracted to the idea of talking about the self, actually, and the way that people in our generation are just looking inwards, and we’re obsessed with selfies and that kind of things. But, as it started progressing, we actually realised that for our first issue it was really important to start with the genesis of things and the beginning of things, and the past is really powerful for us. We are part of a generation that is constantly looking backwards, we’re obsessed with just, generally, the past, y’know.

G.B: Our culture has become obsessed with looking backwards but not learning from history, not learning from the past but gaining short term pleasure from reaching back to memories that gave us that pleasure. Things like vinyl and Instagram, that started as exactly that – filters to give a nostalgic feel. That’s what we’re interested in, and then perhaps by looking at and examining our past, we can try and learn something about what’s going on.

S.A: I think one of the biggest highlights is the interview with Gonzalo. Gonzalo Maza is the screenwriter of Gloria, A Fantastic Woman and The Year of the Tiger. It was really interesting for me to interview him. I think that, as people that go to film school and learn about film making in a very structured way, speaking to him broke down any of those rules. He was constantly talking about screenwriting as something that is very mysterious, that you don’t have answers to, that doesn’t have a structure, that shouldn’t be formulaic … And so the interview is definitely a highlight. I think another highlight is the piece that Sabrina Mahfouz wrote, who is a poet and a screenwriter but primarily a poet. I think that what she did was take the screenwriting format and experiment with it in a very literary and experimental way, which I think is what we really want to do: take the format and have people understand that in a different way. And a lot of the photo essays are really special.

G.B: It’s a screenwriting and photography journal. Even though we’d love personally to just have a book of screenplays, I understand that people need something visual, and at the end of the day cinema is a visual format. We’re not expecting people just to take it and go, oh yeah, that is literature, but to understand that as a screenwriter, to get it in the hands of a producer, in the hands of someone with money, it has to be literary. Cinema is a visual medium and in the screenplay the screenwriter has to understand the tools of the director. It can’t just read like a novel, it has to read, some would say, like a shot list and it has to evoke some sort of visual and emotional response. By pairing the screenplays loosely with the photo essays, that’s what we wanted to get across. And a lot of the photo essays are documentary form, some of them are set up. But they all, again, pertain to that theme of the past.

S.A: I think another highlight is the essay by Ekua Agha on Ousmane Sembène who, I didn’t know this, but he was what is so-called the father of African film making. I think that what he really did was challenge the European aesthetic of what film was and was one of the founders of third cinema, I suppose. And that to me was really special because I didn’t know who he was, I didn’t learn about him at film school, but this person that was really interested in the film maker brought him into my world and highlighted what I think is really important in film making.

S.M: You’re planning to release two issues a year – what can we expect from future issues and how can people get involved if they want to contribute?

G.B: The next issue we hope to be longer – I think the first issue runs at almost 130 pages, ideally it would be thicker, longer, more screenplays, more essays and more critical thinking about screenplays and the theme. The next issue is going to be on the theme of fractured societies, which kind of needs no explanation as to why it’s relevant now. So we’re looking for scripts from anybody, whether it’s your first screenplay or you know someone that is a talented or established screenwriter, get in touch with us. In an ideal world we’d have a system where people could send us stuff, even if it’s just an idea, and we’ll work with them to develop that script.  

S.M: You’ve both graduated now. How did you find LFS as an environment for collaboration?

G.B: I think the fact that the screenwriting department is just over the road from film making one is really crucial and I’d encourage any student in either department at the school to take the time and the advantage of having that as an opportunity and to use it. 9:25-9.30. It’s been said a million times but film school has to do with what you’re willing to put in. The opportunity’s there, it just has to be taken.

S.M: Thank you very much for talking to us, we’ll let you get back to enjoying your launch party and congratulations on the first issue.

***EXCLUSIVE! LFS Students can get a 10% discount when they order online using code LFS10. Hurry, offer ends September 26th 2017! ***

Follow @scenesjournal  on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram for regular updates:

https://www.facebook.com/scenesjournal

https://twitter.com/ScenesJournal

https://www.instagram.com/scnjournal/

Below is an extract from the interview with Gonzalo Maza, writer of the Silver Bear-winning Una Mujer Fantástica and recent graduate of the MA Screenwriting at LFS. To read the rest of the article and a journal’s worth of other inspiring, thought-provoking new work, go to https://www.scenesjournal.com/ to order your copy and find out how to submit your work.

You can also buy Scenes from the BFI library and bookstore and Magculture (270 St John Street, Clerkenwell, London, EC1V 4PE). 

EXTRACT FROM ‘INTERVIEW WITH A SCREENWRITER’ NO. 1

GONZALO MAZA

Article by Shalini Adnani, photography by Cameron Ward

Gonzalo Maza likes women — especially complex ones. Both Gloria and his latest film, Una Mujer Fantástica (A Fantastic Woman), for which he was awarded Best Screenplay at Berlinale, celebrate female endurance and resilience. So it was no surprise that Gonzalo, when I met him at the dimly-lit cafe at the London Film School, proposed, apologetically, that I lead the way, as long as I fed him. The cash machine had just swallowed his card, he was one week late on a deadline, and, with no cash or accessible money in his pocket, he was back to being a penniless screenwriter from his younger years. It was the least I could do for him in his frazzled state, which I soon came to realise was a constant for this prolific screenwriter who is always fighting against the next deadline. To talk of Gonzalo Maza’s life and work is to speak of a man who is on a quest to understand the human condition and is willing to risk reason in doing so. In his eternal mission, one still sees a teenager in the forty-two year old who exclaims he loves “the contradictions of melancholy and cheery beats of Britpop” — a juxtaposition that runs through his work.

Born in Valparaiso, Chile, a port city not far from Santiago, he spent most of his childhood in a beach town nearby, Viña del Mar. A cinephile since he can remember, Gonzalo’s first job was working as a VHS store clerk for his mother’s store, but it wasn’t until an exchange program at the University of Texas that his hope of pursuing screenwriting was solidified. Since his powerful collaboration with the Chilean director and good friend, Sebastián Lelio, Gonzalo has decided to pursue a Masters in Screenwriting at the London Film School, and a PhD exploring the use of current events in screenwriting.

I first encountered Gonzalo’s work in my early twenties when I was back in my hometown, Santiago, and experiencing what some refer to as post-graduation existentialism. I walked into the national cinema buried underneath La Moneda, the national palace, to watch El Año del Tigre (The Year of the Tiger), the only feature film Gonzalo has been the sole writer for. I left the cinema that day deciding I wanted to tell stories that were simple and poignant, and since then have observed Gonzalo’s work and knack for tragicomedy with great admiration. I sat down with Gonzalo in a quiet courtyard in Central London to have a chat.

When did you know you wanted to be a writer?

I wrote a short story once and showed it to a teacher. He didn’t like it. He wanted to change the end. Then I showed it to my father, he didn’t like it either, or he didn’t totally understand it. So I ended up dedicating myself to math, but I always liked journalism — I wrote for a school paper, I had a column, I took workshops and so on and I was also part of a theatre group. When I joined the theatre group, I wanted to be an actor but I quickly realised I had no talent for that - which was very liberating. But one day I wrote a play. This was all when I was about 12. I wrote the play in one evening, showed it to my professor, he liked it — it was very funny. So we got together as a class to make it play happen. We went on to win some awards and went to a national theatre competition.

That was my only ‘dramatic’ event. Then I just dedicated myself to journalism, studied it and continued on that career path. Until 1999 when I did a year abroad at the University of Texas where I took lots of film classes. In this class, I realised that I really liked this medium, and it was what I wanted to do, but I had no idea how to go about it. I had a friend who worked for TV in Chile, so I started writing for TV where I learned lots about docudrama and melodrama. I worked on one TV series that would take real-life events and sort of have a talk show. They would take articles written in magazines and create fictionalised cases on them. That was a really good learning process for me, because they had pretty low expectations and it gave me more liberty. No one ever told me I was any good, but that was my melodrama school—in its purest form, very Latin American. Then I quit journalism completely and joined a production company that did television for children. 

I was a producer on this show and wrote various episodes. This is when I met Sebastián Lelio, who was finishing up his first feature film, and I wanted to know if he wanted a screenwriter. He didn’t want a screenwriter, but at the same time he needed one because he didn’t really know how to take on some elements of writing. I told him I wasn’t a screenwriter with much experience but thought we could get together to work on certain things and bounce ideas around and talk. So, we would get together and just talk about films.

What kind of stories or characters are you attracted to?

There are two things I am very attracted to. One being people who try to seem strong, externally, but are weak or emotional at heart. I think people hide emotion a lot. That get’s me excited - people who hide their feelings. And what excites me even more is when a person who hides their feelings, knows how to hide them really well. Those kind of characters are very touching to me. And I always find myself gravitating towards that. Even though we don’t know where that pain comes from, I like the mix those characters create. 

I like Britpop a lot, the basis for which is sad lyrics set against upbeat melodies. I think my spirit towards life is absolutely happiness, but in my interior I’m a very sad person. And that — which happens to me, happens to everyone. 

So, I tend to do two things if I am stuck. One is if the character is a man, I turn him into a woman and he becomes infinitely better and more interesting. If they are kind of flat, I just turn them into women and they automatically have problems or just come into being and have more shape. Or I go back to this premise of people who hide their feelings. In fact, at the moment I am editing a film I wrote and directed, my first feature I’ve directed, where that is the main conflict I’m tackling. How do you show that construct of happiness and sadness at the same time? It’s generally easier to do something like this through comedy rather than drama. I’m more attracted to comedy. I don’t know if my comedy is that funny, but I still laugh at it. I think I also belong to the school of anti-male. 

What do you mean by anti-male?

I guess it has to do with my upbringing. I went to an all boys school and hated it, I thought it was very prosaic and primitive. I just found it very primitive. I just don’t find men very interesting. What I find interesting is their blindness and not being capable of seeing themselves as they actually are. But I just find women more interesting. I’ve always listened to women, everywhere I go I want to talk to them, it’s the world I want to know and understand. I think they are funnier and entertaining and I admire them. In college, I would be in love with a girl and in my eternal insecurities and fear, I never told them anything. So I always liked being the friend that was close and could hear everything they had to say, rather than confess my love which wouldn’t amount to anything, they would reject me and I would just be miserable. And on top of that, I wouldn’t be able to hear the stories anymore. So, I preferred staying with the experiences these women would give me.

The character of Gloria is very much like the actress who played her, did you have her in mind before you started writing?

We started writing Gloria when we found this character of our ‘mothers’, just this world of our mothers that no one pays attention to, or falls into the background in life. A woman of a certain age, she’s an old lady; she has no more meaning in her life, and therefore is neurotic, and therefore, is everything we complain about. Someone that complains, is bitter. So we saw that and realized how unjust it was to view certain women this way, as a society. So based on that idea, we decided to make a film about our mothers, and then started investigating it until we found Paulina Garcia. I remember being in love with Paulina when I was younger, when she was acting at 18, but we eventually thought of her and started looking through her Facebook photographs. We realised we kept talking about her and had to ask her because the film, wouldn’t exist without her.  So she came over, and we pitched the idea to her. She liked it. So it was a kind of mix between an idea that we wanted to explore and Paulina who was the character and actress we imagined. A kind of character we thought only existed in Chile and had no idea it would be so universal. 

Did you specifically think about post-dictatorial Chile in your writing of Gloria?

I think that film and politics are inevitably intertwined. A film is political because it belongs to a time and place. And when you have a character in a specific space, it is a document of that time and place. We all live in political moments and we are a consequence of that. So that was something we took into account. Seeing the generational difference between our mothers and the students who were out in the streets protesting, it was a very strong contrast between Gloria’s generation who didn’t protest at all. They protested against the government but because of that it meant they were constantly thinking of others, especially if a family member was missing or killed, and they always put their needs in second place. These women were always putting themselves in the second place, never really having a moment for themselves, to liberate themselves, have their moment of glory. In that sense, the film is political.