#and yeah they’re right. but also he’s just such a wet cat loser of a man and he is just like me fr

[merriclo]

wistfully looking at my favorite book knowing no one is as batshit bananas abt it as i am and so i can’t talk abt it with anyone without making a fool of myself

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

Memories of Defeat (pt 4/4)

An In Stars and Time retrospective that revolves around everyone's favorite star. Major "secret ending"/epilogue spoilers below the cut!!

[Start from Part One here.]

Once upon a time, there were two brothers: one made of light, and one made of meat.

The elder brother was capable. Resourceful. He’s the one who had to point the way. Even if he was lost, or exhausted, or hungry and scared and alone, he didn’t have a choice. There was nowhere left for him to go. So he died! He died on purpose!! He’d rather be dead!!! Anything would be better than this!!!!

The younger brother burrowed out of their sibling’s ribcage. They were afraid, too, but they weren’t hungry. How could they be? They were born from a banquet of muscle and bone. Fermented in a womb of fresh-spilled blood.

The younger brother swallowed their elder. They swallowed his liver and his entrails, his heart and lungs and light. Everything good that was ever inside him would be theirs now. Then they wiped their mouth and howled their loneliness into the stars. Why did it have to be like this? What can’t I remember? Why am I so alone???

The night sky looked down and said, Because I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hope you eat shit and die. Die unloved and alone. It’s what you deserve.

But I didn’t do anything wrong! the younger brother wailed, pathetically, and also totally blinding hypocritically because they literally just ate their only kin, like, ten minutes ago. I only wanted to be loved!!!

Cool, the Universe said. Try telling someone who cares.

* * *

There’s no room for Loop in the caravan.

Which is fine. Preferable, even. It’s not as though they’re particularly eager to spend the night two inches away from the nation’s most nauseating lovebirds.

Siffrin insists on pitching a tent for them. That’s fine, too. It’s a free country. Siffrin can do whatever he wants. It doesn’t mean that Loop actually has to sleep there.

(They can’t even look at it. It smells like the past. Like the hole in their chest.)

They sleep on the ground, with a scarf draped over their eyes. They don’t want to look at the stars.

* * *

Loop’s eyes snap open a few minutes before sunrise. There’s someone watching them.

“You’re not sneaky,” they announce, without looking up. “I’m not one of your oblivious little friends. You can’t hide from me. I’m better at it, anyway.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to.”

“You know it’s pointless trying to lie to me.”

“…Yeah.”

Loop rolls their eyes. He’s the one who won, isn’t he? So why does he always go around acting like a sopping wet cat left out in the rain? “What do you want, stardust.”

“I’m deciding if I have to give you our cloak,” Siffrin admits.

That gets their attention. Loop sits up, intrigued.

Siffrin tucks their chin behind their collar. “It seems maybe… right? Um. Morally. But I really don’t want to.”

“Aww, stardust. You think I want that ratty old thing?”

“Of course.”

…Of course.

Loop smiles sunnily. “I bet you think I’m going to say something like, Ohh, you don’t have to do that. It’s the thought that counts! That you even considered it is more than enough for me!”

Siffrin looks hopeful. Stupid little beast. How were a hundred bloody deaths still not enough to wring all the optimism out of them?

“Well, maybe I won’t! We don’t all find you so charming, you know. Maybe I do want it! It was mine first!”

Siffrin’s face scrunches miserably. As they reach for the clasp that holds their collar shut, the first gleam of dawn catches on a silver coin, still pinned to their lapel.

…Ugh. “It’s fine, okay? It’s not even my style anymore. Anyway, I got to keep both our eyes, so. Who’s the loser here, really?”

Siffrin opens their mouth.

“If you answer that, I’m taking the cloak just so I can throw it in the river.”

Siffrin closes their mouth. But they don’t walk away. They just keep standing there, staring.

“Stars, what?” Loop demands. “Have you got some more restitutions for me? Going to give me your other eye?”

Siffrin shakes his head. “It’s just, um. Loop.”

“What?”

“No, I mean the name. ‘Loop.’ Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Stars, it’s one thing after another with you! Talk about intrusive! Do you do this with all your little friends, or it just me you can’t trust to make a single blinding decision for myself?”

Siffrin scuffs the heel of their boot through the dirt. “It just… doesn’t seem fair.”

“Oh, you figured it out, did you!! Ve~ry clever, stardust! It is unfair! Much like everything else in this miserable world! Nothing was ever going to be fair! What do you want me to do about it? Well? Go on! I’d love to hear your brilliant solution!”

Siffrin just keeps standing there, silent.

Loop’s fingernails dig into their palms. “Do you think I should be Siffrin again? Is that it? You think we should both be Siffrin? I’m sure that won’t confuse anyone. When your pet Fighter calls your name and the both of us come running.”

“...It would get confusing.”

“I’m not him anymore, anyway,” Loop spits. “They’re dead. You should know. You’re the one who killed them. And killed them and killed them and killed them and killed them! And—if I can be honest? Good blinding riddance!! You think I liked being you? Being some desperate, needy little freak with no past and no future?” They let out a tinkling laugh. “Get over yourself, stardust. Frankly, I’d rather die.”

“I’m not saying you should be me,” Siffrin says quietly. “I just mean… Loop, specifically. It doesn’t seem a little… masochistic?”

Loop blinks at them.

“I know you’re not me,” Siffrin says again. “Or even the me you used to be. But you’re not the loops, either. They’re just—something that happened to us.”

Loop rolls their eyes. “You escape one time loop and suddenly you’re a qualified therapist?”

“Do you really like it, though?”

…Well. Well of course they don’t blinding like it. But it’s fitting, isn’t it? It’s funny, isn’t it? Just like them!! Soooo~ funny!!!

“…Loop?”

“I don’t like it,” Loop hisses. “But. It’s… not as though I like anything else. And it’s. Familiar.”

Siffrin nods. Even he can understand that much. This world’s Siffrin may have had it easy—like, really, ridiculously, embarrassingly easy—but both of them went years without finding anything familiar. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“And you know you can change your mind.”

“Hard as it may be to believe, I am, in fact, fully capable of thinking for myself! But thanks ever so much for trying to dictate another aspect of my life! I was starting to worry that I might actually have to be a real person!”

Siffrin frowns. “You’re a real person.”

“Oh, for Stars— Haven’t you done enough? I’m exhausted. You’re exhausting.” They flop back in their bedroll, draping the scarf back over their eyes. “Just leave me alone, stardust. It’s what you do best.”

[You dreamed that you were drowning. Even now, you still can’t catch your breath.]

There’s an old fairytale, back in (don’t think it DON’T THINK IT IT HURTS) about the saddest man in the world. He’s so miserable, so totally consumed by his hurt that he can’t even talk about it, because no one would ever understand. He is utterly alone in his grief.

So the world’s saddest man makes a wish. He wishes for a copy of himself! Someone else, someone new, who might reflect the emptiness inside him.

But the copy is too good. Much, much better than the man ever was. There’s no bitterness inside it because, for as long as it’s lived, it’s always had him. It never had to learn how it feels to be alone.

The man hates it. He hates it. He can't stand to see it walking around, smiling and laughing and failing and trying. So he lures it back into his study. He gives it a smile. He opens his arms.

It’s still smiling at him, trusting, when he drives the knife into its chest.

The man drinks the light from its veins and swallows the wish in its heart. He leaves it empty empty empty. And do you know what?? In the end, when he’s left shuddering in a puddle of blood and spattered viscera, nothing has changed!! There’s nothing different at all!!! He still isn’t any less alone!!!!!

*

* *

* * *

The morning after the party sets out from Bambouche, Loop wakes up to find Bonnie standing over them.

“How come you don’t glow anymore?” they ask bluntly.

Loop blinks. “Oh. Um. W-Well, it was wreaking havoc on my beauty sleep. Looking this good doesn’t come cheap, you know! It’s practically a full-time job!”

“But how? What happened to your sparkles?”

“They… washed off?” It is sort-of true. For a while after Siffrin set them free, Loop wasn’t anywhere at all. When they finally gasped awake, they were neck-deep in the same black, frigid water that carried them to Vaugaurde, all those years ago. Except this world’s Siffrin already took the boat. Loop had to claw their way to shore with their own two hands.

Bonnie looks disappointed. What else is new? Water is wet and Loop is disappointing. “That sucks. It was cool. But I guess it’s good you can sleep now. Being tired sucks too.”

Loop’s mouth ticks up. “I’ll tell you a secret,” they find themself saying. “But only if you won’t tell Siffrin.”

“DEAL.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah!!”

“Super promise?”

“Of course!!!!”

“Super duper promise?”

Bonnie flaps their arms. “You gotta tell me right now or I’m gonna explode!!!!!”

Loop looks left and right, conspiratorial, before beckoning them close enough to whisper in their ear. “...I can still glow a little.”

“What!!!!!”

“Shh!!”

“Ahem!” Boniface clears their throat. “Ahem, hem. Of course what I meant was: forsooth, how doth you, um. Glow?”

Wow, they really have been going to school. Loop’s mouth ticks up. They might not be the real Boniface, but they’re still way too cute. “Okayyyy, okay. You wore me down! I can’t hold out any longer! I have no choice but to confess!”

“Yeah,” Bonnie agrees, scowling fiercely.

“Okay, check this out.” Loop scoops a fistful of dust from the ground beside their bedroll and holds it in front of their nose. Their eyes scrunch. Their face puckers—

—and they sneeze a spray of sparks into their palm.

Bonnie’s eyes light up. “What!! What!!!! You sneeze light?????”

“Not always,” Loop explains. They still don’t really understand why it happens. It’s not as though the Universe ever deigned to explain. “And don’t tell anyone! It’s our secret, okay?”

“But why!!! It’s cool!!!!!”

“Haha, well. Sometimes people don’t like things that are cool.”

“But it’s shiny!!!!”

Loop smiles wryly. “Sometimes people don’t even like things that are shiny.”

Bonnie’s shoulders sag a little. “But that’s… That stinks.”

(Do NOT make Bonnie sad.) “Oh, no, i-it’s not bad! It’s, um, cool! Like having superpowers! Or a secret identity or something!”

“It is bad!” Bonnie snaps back at them. “People are so stupid!! I think your sparks are cool!!!”

For a second, Loop almost forgets to laugh. “Haha! Well, I commend your exemplary taste. But there’s no need to worry about me, Bonb– Boniface. I’m doing just fine!”

Bonnie frowns at them. “Frin says that sometimes.”

The nickname nearly knocks the smile off their face. “...Is that right.”

“But usually only when they’re not.”

“Well. I wouldn’t think too hard about it. Siffrin is pretty stupid.”

“You’re his friend, though.”

(…Are they?) “Of course!”

“So maybe you’re stupid too.”

Loop chokes on a laugh. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re sort of scary-smart?”

“No,” Bonnie says promptly. “Mostly they say I have learning disabrilties. ‘Cause my brain is bad at words.”

“Well,” Loop tells them, confidential. “Don’t tell your sister, but between you and me… I think the people who say that might be even stupider than me.”

“Pffft— You can’t say that about teachers!! They’re in charge!!!”

“Not of me, they’re not.”

Bonnie stares for a second before breaking into a radiant, gap-toothed smile. “You’re cool, Loop.”

“I— Ah?” For the first time in several lifetimes, Loop finds themself at a loss for words.

“It’s okay!” Bonnie says generously. “Frin doesn’t know what to do when people are nice to them either. You don’t hafta say anything. You can just know you’re cool and not even say anything.”

Not as cool as YOU! That’s what they could have said. But of course it’s always already too late. “Um…”

“I’ll leave you alone!!” Bonnie shouts in their face. “Cause Nille says I’m bossy which is a strenth but sometimes means I have to give people space so they can decide if they wanna keep hanging out or not! But I’m glad you came back!! ‘Cause Frin and Za are all gross and lame now, so it’s cool to have someone cool!!”

“H-Haha. Well. I’ll… try to meet your expectations?”

“You don’t hafta worry ‘bout that,” Bonnie scoffs. “You already sneezed glitter.”

* * *

When the party meets Madame Odile at the crossing, she looks at Loop very, very closely. She shakes their hand politely enough. But she doesn’t approach them directly until later, after the Fighter’s already turned in for the night and Boniface is fast asleep.

“Loop,” she greets them. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to discuss it in front of everyone, but I wanted to tell you that I’m very glad to see you again. I’d been hoping for a chance to give you my thanks. I know I was a bit, ah, preoccupied when last we met… But it seems we owe you a great debt. Siffrin’s life, for one. Not to mention the state of our physical world.”

Loop bites back a sigh and readies the usual spiel. Haha, yes, that’s me! Eternally helpful etcetera etcetera! I can see that you’ve noticed the new look; would you believe, it’s actually a very funny story—

“And Siffrin,” Odile says levelly. She doesn’t look away. “It seems we owe you an apology.”

Loop chokes. “Aha? Haha, um… I think you’ve… perhaps… mistaken me for someone? H-Haha, ah… Maybe in your old age, your eyes have finally—“

“She knows,” Sif blurts out, from across the fire. “Sorry. I had to tell her. She’d already mostly figured it out.”

“Not when it might have counted,” Odile says ruefully.

“Which would be….?”

Odile looks at them like they’re stupid. “Obviously, when it still could have saved you.”

OHHHkay. Hahaha, okay!! So they’re just going to talk about that!!! She’s just going to look at them with remorse in her eyes, and regret, like she can actually see them!! Like she thinks it’s not their own blinding fault that everything went—

“…Siffrin?”

“Don’t call me that.” That’s someone else now.

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Hmh. Well. I think it probably isn’t.”

“What do you know?” S— Loop snaps. “No, let me guess. Because you’re old, you think you must be wise? Well, I do hate to be the one to tell you this, but I’m afraid that’s just not how it works. I would know.”

“Of course,” she says again, backing off. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want anyone’s apologies. It’s not like there’s anything any of you could have done.”

“Hmh,” she says. Probably thinks she’s being diplomatic. Maybe she would be, if she were talking to someone as stupid as Siffrin.

“And I’m not—” The words lodge in their throat. Loop is seized by the violent urge to take a deep breath, but just thinking about it makes them want to peel their skin off.

They can feel Odile’s eyes on them, assessing. “...What was she like?”

“Wh-What?”

“Me,” she explains. “The one that you knew.”

...Oh. “Different,” Loop admits. “And… the same? You—or. She never figured it out, like you did. But I think maybe she might’ve. If I’d been less—” Weak. Spineless. Pathetic.

“Tch,” Odile scoffs. “Doesn’t matter what she might have done, if she didn’t.”

Loop blinks.

For once in her life, Odile actually looks embarrassed. “Ah. My apologies. I only mean that… I’m sorry that I was so useless.”

She startles when Loop barks a laugh. “You—haha!!! Hahaha!!!! You’re sorry! For being useless!!! That’s—no, no, it’s very funny!!”

Because their Odile could have been plenty useful, if they hadn’t been such a blinding coward. If they’d trusted her enough to let her in. But they didn’t, and now the Odile that Loop loved is gone. She needed them and S— Loop couldn’t take the heat. They gave up. They left her behind.

“I’m not sure I get the joke,” Odile says quietly.

“Well! It’s not exactly your strong suit, is it!”

Madame Odile studies their face, frowning. Then, disconcertingly, her gaze flicks toward Siffrin.

“Don’t look at them,” Loop snarls. Instinct thuds in their ears, take it back take it back TAKE IT BACK—

—but they won’t. What would be the point?

“Did you think we’d be the same?” they ask, sneering. Contempt dripping from every word like blood from the tip of a blade. “That you’d have one more cute little Siffrin tiptoeing around, hiding and crying and lying to people? Well! I’m ever so sorry to disappoint, but I think you’ll find otherwise. Oh, but don't get the wrong idea! It's not just me, teehee! We're both soooo~ much worse than you think."

“…Is that right.”

In another life, Loop let the King squeeze Bonnie into bloody pulp. They let the King throw Mira around like a ragdoll. They lied and lied and lied till they were sick with it, till their throat scorched black and their tongue dripped silver. They smiled and let her die and die and die.

“It really is!” They flash a bright, brittle smile. “How many times do you think I let you die, Madame? Would you like to take a guess?”

“I would not.”

“Too easy? I’ll try another, then. How many times do you think I killed you?”

She doesn’t flinch. Every muscle in her body deliberately Doesn’t Flinch. “...Loop.”

“Madame~?”

“I like your jewelry.”

“I—um?”

“Did you make it yourself?”

“I… did, yes.” When Loop finally clawed their way out of the sea, they had every intention of lying there until they died. But it wasn’t long before they were found. Apparently they’d washed ashore just a stone’s throw from a beachcomber’s hut: an artisan whose dilapidated hovel glittered with gleaming fusions of glass and stone and rusted steel.

Loop’s savior never spoke. Maybe they couldn’t. But their quick, clever hands could turn the ugliest, most disintegrating flotsam into inimitable treasures.

“Impressive.” Madame Odile says coolly, nodding. “Siffrin never had the knack for that sort of thing. Carving wood with physical tools is one thing, but mixing media? And across different Craft types, no less? That’s very advanced Crafting.”

“I—ah? Or, I mean… it’s not like it’s hard…”

“You may just have the knack,” Odile informs them. “Not everyone does. It’s a valuable skill, nonetheless.”

“R-Right.”

Madame Odile yawns. “Forgive me. I’m too old to be up this late. But I’ll see you tomorrow, I expect. And, ah—I suspect you don’t care to hear this sort of thing, but—I really am grateful. Truly.”

And before they can even begin to consider their reply, she’s vanished into her tent.

*

* *

* * *

Have you heard this one before? A Traveler walks into a House. Says, Housemaiden, I'm depressed. I can't find the joy in anything. I can't connect with people. I can’t feel ANYTHING. I can't eat, I can't sleep. No, I mean, literally, it’s been eons since I slept. The insides of my eyelids are brighter than the sun. It’s like a fireworks show in here.

Housemaiden says, You should talk to the Savior of Vaugarde. They’re soooo cute and special and pretty and perfect and everyone loves them no matter how many times they ruin everything by being a stupid little freak who can’t even talk right. I bet they could give you some advice!

The Traveler puts their head in their hands and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs. Says, But Housemaiden! I -am- the Savior of Vaugarde!!!!

Aaa~nyway, they kill her and eat her heart. And would you believe? It doesn’t make them feel anything!!!!!!

[you’re fine you’re fine you’re fine you’re—]

—fine. You’re totally fine. It’s a clear, bright morning, the breeze brisk and playful, and walking into Dormont doesn’t make you feel sick. The smell of flowers and pastries and juniper doesn’t make you want to vomit. The spiraled roof and crenelled towers of the House don’t turn your breakfast to stone in your stomach. Looking down the path through the trees doesn’t make you want to pull your spine out through your mouth. You’re fine.

Why wouldn’t you be? Just because you abandoned this place? Just because it killed you? No. No. You’re toooo~tally fine. You’re being so normal about this.

A few steps from the House’s gate, Siffrin jerks his hand out of the Fighter’s and throws up. Pathetic. You step into their line of sight to make sure they can see you roll your eyes. They were always soooo~ sensitive.

* * *

Siffrin refuses to enter the House, because they’re a delicate flower who insists on making their damage everyone else’s problem. Loop, of course, never had that privilege.

* * *

“Ugh!” Mirabelle huffs, scowling down at her pottery wheel. “I’ve ruined it again! Siffrin, would you—”

She stops short.

“I-I’m so sorry!!” she squeaks, one hand flying to her mouth. “I meant Loop, of course!! Sorry!! That was so rude; I promise I wasn’t thinking of someone else, it’s just that you… remind me of them, sometimes? N-Not because you’re from the same country! The King was, too, and he felt very very different!! The two of you just… feel sort of similar, is all. The way you take up space, and… the things that catch your eye… It’s almost like you’re—” She shakes her head vigorously. “Ohh, never mind!! I know it doesn’t make any sense!! ”

To Loop’s horror, they can feel their eyes start to itch. Oh, Stars. It’s the worst thing imaginable. They absolutely cannot cry.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean— I-I’m so sorry!!!” Mira’s hands flit toward them before landing in her lap. “I shouldn’t have said anything; I didn’t mean to make things even worse, I— Do you want a, a… cup of tea? Or some cookies?”

Don’t worry! Loop tries to tell her. I’m completely fine, haha! No problems here! I’m probably just allergic to ceramics!!!! Unfortunately, the best they can manage is, “No Thank You.”

“I—!!” Mirabelle squares her jaw, both hands clenching in the fabric of her skirt. “Loop. Is there, maybe, some way I can help you? I know you don’t think much of us, but we owe you so much!!”

Loop looks away. “You… think I don’t think much of you.”

“Oh. W-Well, um. We… never saw you again, after you helped us save Siffrin. And they’d go quiet anytime we tried to ask about you, so I—I wasn’t sure if—”

“Mira,” Loop says. They take a moment to collect their thoughts. “...Mirabelle.”

“Y-Yes?”

“That’s not a very reliable gauge for what someone thinks of you.”

Mira’s eyes widen.

“For all you know, I might’ve thought the world of you,” they go on, uncharacteristically reckless. “Anyone might. People disappear all the time! They hide, or they die, or they… go somewhere else. It doesn’t mean they never cared. It only means that they cared about something else, too. Or they cared a little too much. Or they’re dead, teehee!”

Mirabelle pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at her nose. “I-I’m sorry… I know you’re only here for our sakes, and now I’m being nothing but trouble…”

Um. What? “I’m here for what?”

“W-Well, um… I guess I thought you’d come to visit because Siffrin told you how upset we were, after you disappeared? Because you saved us—saved everyone—and then we couldn’t even thank you?”

“…What?”

Mira blinks at them, her disorientation mirroring their own. “Which part are you confused by…?”

For the first time in several eternities, Loop lifts a hand to their chest. They take a deep breath in, and out. “H-Haha. I guess, all of it? I certainly didn’t save anyone. Much less everyone.”

“But you did!!!”

“Uh…”

Mira’s eyes widen. “Ohhh,” she gasps, “I see. You don’t like that, do you?”

“—Um?”

“People giving you compliments and things. Praising the things you accomplished, as though you were some sort of storybook hero. When you know that what happened was much less heroic, and much more… accidental. Embarrassing.”

Oh. Huh. Loop had never thought about it in so many words. Probably because no one's ever tried to give them a compliment. But now that she mentions it... yeah. Maybe they can sort of relate.

“I’m sorry,” Mira says again, looking despondent. She slaps both palms against her cheeks. “Sorry!! I won’t do it again!! You just want to feel normal, right? So let’s—let’s Craft some clay!”

“If you’re sure,” Loop says faintly. (Calm down. You’re freaking her out. For once in your life just BE NORMAL.) “…But don’t take it personally if I turn out to be pretty good at this. I have it on high authority that I may have something of a knack.”

* * *

They keep it together for the rest of the afternoon. They finish Crafting their vase and help Mirabelle patch the weak points on hers, smoothing rough edges and pressing air pockets so it won’t shatter in the kiln.

They make it all the way to the bathroom before their smile drops.

The bathroom’s undergone some renovations since the last time they broke down here. Now tiny clay figures dance over the sink, and childish painted murals adorn the doors. A little Change God stands guard over each stall: waving its clumsy arms, kicking its stumpy legs. Its eyes are obscured, its expression unreadable. Its face is laughing. Leering. Mocking. What does it see when it looks at them? A memory? A means to an end? Or only a ghost?

Loop reaches out and takes it in their hands. The Craft that animates it makes it squirm like a worm on a hook. Loop doesn’t pity it. It’s only fair. The Change God never pitied them, either.

“Was it fun?” they whisper, as they squeeze. “Did you have fun? What about now? Are you having fun yet?”

Wet clay oozes between their fingers. The statue twitches and jerks. Loop’s chest feels hot. Their skull hums like a nest of wasps. Lumpy paper swollen with stinging hate.

“I’m having fun,” they tell the wriggling godling, smiling wide. They can’t even tell if they’re lying. To make the distinction, they’d probably need something to compare it to.

The wriggling slows. The heat of Craft fades as the statue goes limp in their hands.

Loop opens their palms. There’s no god there anymore. Only dead, lifeless clay.

They flick open the lock and shoulder through the door.

Outside the stall, there’s someone waiting. Watching. Staring straight at them.

Loop flinches. The stranger looks familiar, but also not. Like maybe Loop’s seen them before, but only in a dream.

—Claude. That’s who it is. Mirabelle’s roommate, Claude. (And who says they don’t have a good memory!)

Claude narrows her eyes. “…Did you just mulch that statue?”

Loop looks down at their hands, crusted with molten clay.

“People work hard on those,” Claude informs them.

Loop has already used up all their willpower for the day. They don’t have the strength to stop themself rolling their eyes. “People work hard on lots of things.”

Her eyebrows go up. “I could report you.”

“Please do,” Loop spits; and in one fluid movement, they’ve whirled around and flung themself out the bathroom window.

They’re three stories up, but they’re not worried about the fall. Worst-case scenario, they’ll drive their blades into the mortar and grind to a halt before they splat on the ground. Best-case, they die on impact.

[You dreamed you were being eaten alive. You can still feel the crunch and grind of tearing cartilage. The way the sinews stretch before they snap.]

Siffrin is fishing by the river. Just looking at the rod in their hands makes Loop want to throw up. They snapped that rod in half once. Tore it out of the fisherperson’s hands and broke it clean over their knee. And then they threw it in the river. And then then jumped in after it.

It’s not just the total futility of it all. It’s the whole process. Catching a thrashing, squirming being in your hands and squeezing the life out of it. Aligning your blade with the seam of its gills, just behind the thrum of its throat. Staring into those gaping eyes, that gulping mouth as you press down hard and harder. Careful, now! If you hit the angle wrong, you’ll miss the artery entirely! It’ll take ages to die! Minutes that stretch into eternities. Gasping, gulping, choking on the hot slick slurry of your own black blood.

Loop shudders. “…I can’t believe you can still touch that thing.”

Siffrin hums thoughtfully. “I think it’s the only thing that never got worse.”

“Ew. Or, I mean. Can’t relate.”

“Well,” Siffrin says. “We were always pretty different.” They flick the rod expertly, sending the fly dancing over the surface. “How’s Mira?”

“She recognized me.”

That gets their attention. “She what?”

“Not specifically,” Loop admits. “But. She said I felt… familiar. Like…” The words lodge in their throat. It doesn’t matter. Siffrin knows what they mean.

“…Hm.”

“Aw,” Loop purrs, mocking. “Does that scare you? Is it scary, to know that you could be so easily replaced?”

“No,” Siffrin says right away. “I guess I feel… relieved?”

(…What?) “Why.”

“I wasn’t sure they’d know me,” Siffrin shrugs. “You, I mean. Us. I wasn’t sure they’d even want to, if we were being… less careful.”

Loop bristles. “I’m more careful than you could ever imagine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Yeah, no, they’re really not.

“So it’s… comforting,” Siffrin shrugs. “To think they’d still like us, even if we were—“

“What? A failure? A ghost? A pathetic piece of work?”

“Well. Yeah.”

Loop squawks a laugh. “Well!! Aren’t you the lucky one!! Even if you wind up as disgusting as me, your friends will still love you! Isn’t that nice!!”

“Yeah,” Siffrin says. “It really is.” They shift their weight, thoughtful, and then seem to remember something. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Loop rolls their eyes, but they don’t not listen.

“Why won’t you talk to Isa?”

Loop fails to suppress a flinch.

“He keeps asking,” Siffrin explains. “And I don’t know how to answer. But it’s getting harder to not-answer. I’m… not a very good liar.”

“…Is that right.”

“I’m an okay liar,” Siffrin concedes. “It just—feels bad.”

Loop is very much aware of that, yes.

“He just wants you to like him,” Siffrin says quietly.

“Be reasonable.”

“It’s hurting his feelings, I think.”

“Good,” Loop says coldly. They hope it does. It doesn’t even come close to evening the score.

Siffrin opens their mouth to argue and then just—shrugs, instead. “It’s your life.”

[You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were alone. You dreamed you were—]

—having a nightmare. You know it’s a nightmare because it’s the same one you have every night. You’re standing under a tree, looking at the man you love. He can’t be more than an armslength away. If you stepped out of the shadows, he would see you.

But he wouldn’t know you.

You watch him think of you. You watch him think of what to say to you. You watch him lose himself to heady daydreams. (This is not a metaphor. Subtlety is not his strong suit. The man you love is very obvious.)

You watch yourself approach him. You are short and strange and awkward. You are hiding and lying and you’re so, so, so-so-so-so stupid. The man you love loves you anyway, because he’s stupid, too.

“Isa!”

“Sif!!!” he shouts, when he sees you. “I was just looking at this Favor Tree!! Isn’t it cool!!!”

“Yeah,” you say slyly. “You might say it’s a pretty… TREE-mendous tree.”

Ha ha!! Ha ha ha!!!!! What a stupid blinding joke!!! It’s almost like your pathetic sense of humor wasn’t what won him in the first place!!! Almost like, all along, he was laughing along because he loved you!!!

Not that it matters now. The tree is in the past. The man is in the past. Your future is in the past. Everything you love was meant for someone else. There’s nothing left for you.

*

* *

* * *

Loop jerks awake. The dark is intractable. Undisturbed by any snore or snuffling wheeze. They are utterly alone.

Siffrin begged them to sleep in the Clocktower with everyone else. They even offered to sleep on the ground so Loop could have a whole bed to themself. But Loop wouldn’t budge. How could they? The thought made them physically sick.

They twist out of their bedroll and onto their feet in one smooth motion. They don’t know where they’re going, but they do know that if they have to lie here, alone with their thoughts, for a single second longer, it is actually going to kill them. So—getting up! Getting moving! One foot in front of the other! If they walk fast enough, maybe they can outrun an eternity of unrelenting dread!!!

They don’t have anywhere to go, so they just—go. They just walk. Anywhere would be better than here.

 * * *

Their feet take them to the Tree. Probably because it’s the closest thing they still have to a home. (And isn’t that just the saddest thing you’ve ever heard!!!!!)

They stand at the foot of the trunk and look up at the canopy. Thick strong boughs and wide, glossy leaves framing little windows to the starry void beyond. Idly, without any real urgency, they imagine setting it on fire. It would be easy. They don’t even need flint or tinder, now that their lungs crackle with swallowed stars. All they’d need is a bit of kindling, some pine cones or dry needles, and they could reduce this place to ash.

—A twig snaps.

Loop’s stance stiffens, then hardens. They know that gait. The slow, careful breath before each heavy clumsy footfall. No one sounds more obvious than a great stupid oaf of a Fighter trying to be discreet.

Maybe he won’t notice them. They could make sure he wouldn’t, if they wanted. Loop knows how to disappear. But they’re tired of going unseen.

“…Can’t sleep?”

The Fighter startles so violently that he nearly keels over backwards. Loop could catch him by the elbow, if they wanted. Steady him; help him catch his balance.

They don’t move.

“W-Woah!!” the Fighter gasps. “Haha, whoa! Um… Loop? That’s you, right? Wow, you are really quiet! I totally didn’t see you there at all!!”

Yes, well, what else is new. “I’d expect nothing less, teehee! You’re not exactly observant.”

“Oh. Haha, um, yeah. I guess not.” Siffrin’s Fighter shifts his weight, uneasy. “ Um… Loop?”

“That’s what they call me!!!”

“Did I… do something wrong?”

Loop stiffens.

“Like… I don’t know. Step on your feelings, somehow? It just feels like you… maybe sort of don’t like me? Which is fine!!” he rushes to clarify. “Not everyone has to like me!! It’s just… if it’s something I did, I could… make sure I don’t do it again?”

Loop almost hits him. They want to. They want to grab him by the collar and shake him. To throw him back against the trunk of the Tree and shove into his space until he can’t not see them. They can see the angry thrum of his pulse in his throat and they want to trap it under their thumb. To close the space and feel his heartrate spike. For months they had to watch themself stand in front of him, wanting and wanting and doing nothing, knowing all the while that if it was them, they wouldn’t just stand there, wanting. They’d take him apart with their hands. They’d eat him alive.

“...Loop?”

“Siffrin,” Loop grates out, an ugly scrape of sound. “Sif. Before I killed myself, that’s what you—all of you used to call me.”

“Wh-What?” the Fighter asks, baffled. “What does that even—”

“But that doesn’t matter now!!!!" Loop shouts, grinning wildly. "He’s dead now!! Now there’s only me!!!!”

“I—I don’t understand. I just saw Sif? Th-They’re totally fine!“

Loop rolls their eyes theatrically. “Ugh. Weren’t you supposed to be smart now? Not your Siffrin, obviously. I obviously meant another Siffrin.”

“But—what? What do you… How would that even work?”

A molten sort of hunger comes over them. Loop flashes a glittering smile. “Isn’t it obvious? ~I’m~ what happens when you don’t save me! When you just let me die!!”

“N-No,” the Fighter mumbles.

“Y-Yeah, actually,” they stammer, mocking. Throwing his pathetic stutter right back in his face.

“No, but… Come on. No way. Sif would’ve said something!”

“Oh, because you can definitely count on Siffrin to tell you anything that matters.”

The Fighter has the gall to look offended. “Hey!! They’re honest about important stuff!!”

“I am literally telling you that we are not!!!”

Isabeau shrinks a little. “B-But— But that’s not possible. It doesn’t make any—”

“Then how do I know them?” Siffrin snarls. “How do I know everything about them? Why do I blinding hate you?”

“I don’t…” Isabeau trails off. They can see him starting to wrap his mind around it. Blood cooling, stance wilting. “You… Are you telling the truth?”

“What do you think.”

His shoulders slump a little. “You… killed yourself?”

“Your Sif tried to break the world,” Loop says scornfully. “I think we can all agree on who’s the more well-adjusted.”

Isabeau staggers back. They can see him getting ready to freak out.

“Nope!!” they shrill. “Not allowed!! This is mine!! You weren’t even there!! Besides, you already saved your Sif! So clearly I wasn’t worth saving!! Or were you just holding out for the new model?”

“That’s not—”

Bile sours in their stomach. Steel screams in their veins. Their blood burns with the absolute assurance of what will hurt him the most.

“Do you want to know the truth?” Loop asks sweetly. “If you must know… I hate you! I always hated you. You had everything. Everything!! A home, a family, friends… and still you were dissatisfied? I mean!! Talk about entitled!!”

“I— What? I never said—”

“But you di~id! To every version of me! Even the pathetic rotten failures, teehee! You shared all your ugliest, stupidest hang-ups and guess what? They were all soooo~ lame! Barely an inconvenience! Baby-school trauma for babies!!! It's no wonder you couldn't save me, teehee… You were way, way, way out of your league!”

Isabeau just stares.

Loop’s fists clench. They wish he would get angry. This would be so much more satisfying if he would lash out already. Throw them back against the Tree and snap their brittle neck. But instead he just keeps standing there, looking devastated.

“Ugh,” Loop spits. “This is pointless. You’re pointless. I’m done.”

“L— Sif!!” Isabeau yelps, and that’s the last blinding straw. Loop tucks their head and bolts.

* * *

Isabeau tries to chase after them, but he’s big and slow and Loop can reach terminal velocity in about three seconds from a standstill. He might as well have tried to catch the wind.

They don’t slow down until they reach the field.

Then they cry.

(The cruelest thing is this: If there was no Siffrin in this world, Loop would be the one everyone loved. Loop would be the one who was difficult but loyal; high-maintenance and universally adored. Loop could have been the weird little freak who everyone considered worth the effort.

But Loop gave up. They gave their chance away. And now they’ve got what they deserved: absolutely nothing.)

What are they even doing here? Why would they come back? They knew what was waiting for them. There’s no space for them here, in this place, with these people. The understudy already took their place.

It’s all Siffrin’s fault. Siffrin the hero, leading their perfect shiny life surrounded by all their perfect shiny friends. Siffrin, who got everything they ever wanted and still demanded more. Siffrin wishing wishing wishing to see them again, yanking on Loop’s subconscious mind all day and night to make sure they could never, ever forget. To make sure they’d never be truly free.

…Maybe they’ll just leave. Without telling anyone, without leaving a note. That would show them, wouldn’t it? Siffrin would be so blinding pathetic about it. So hurt and confused. Almost as hurt and confused as Isa, when he found out that his precious little Siffrin could turn into something like this. Something ugly, broken, hateful. Living spite, made manifest. A ghost haunting their own blinding life.

There’s a rustle from the bushes. Light, uncertain footfalls. Loop stiffens. There’s someone coming up the path. Not Isabeau. Not Siffrin, either. A stranger?

From the shadows, someone clears their throat. “Um—”

They don’t get the chance to say anything else. Loop already has the jagged teeth of their knife pressed tight against their throat. “Who are you? What do you want???”

“I’d let go if I were you,” the stranger says coolly. “Unless you want to lose that hand.”

“You wish,” Loop spits. “You’re out of your league.”

“Bet?”

Against their better judgment, Loop can feel themself starting to smile. It’s strangely comforting to be on the receiving end of a threat, for a change. Talking to someone who doesn’t quiver and quail and bend over backwards to accommodate their every demand.

Loop flits backwards, out of slashing range. Probably Siffrin would land in a fighting stance, but Loop is above that sort of petty, childish showmanship. They don’t need a lot of posturing just to kill someone. “What do you want?”

“I heard crying.”

Oh. Was Loop crying? They didn’t notice. Though now that they think of it, their vision does seem a little blurry. “So?”

“Are you stupid or something? So I thought someone might need help. Obviously.”

Hm. That voice isn’t entirely unfamiliar, is it? It feels like Loop might have heard it before. Possibly recently.

—Oh. “Claude,” Loop realizes.

The stranger’s eyes narrow. “So what if I am?”

“Mira’s roommate, Claude.”

“Oh. You’re with the Saviors.”

“I’m not,” Loop snarls. (STOP IT, calm down, you’re going to scare her. Just apologize and run. Say something conciliatory and disappear, like every other—)

“Change,” Claude swears grumpily. “Sorry for breathing, I’m sure. I know you’re lying, anyway. I saw you show up with the Saviors. I’m not gonna act like I didn’t.”

…Oh. She… really isn’t scared, is she? “I—um. Traveled with them, I guess. For a little. I’m not with them.”

“I wasn’t asking if you all made crabbing friendship bracelets,” Claude huffs. “I just meant you’re not from here. What’s your damage, anyway? Why are acting like that?”

Loop chokes on a laugh. Wow, she really isn’t scared. “…Lifestyle choice?”

“Kind of a shitty one.”

“Like you’re one to judge.”

“Takes one to know one,” Claude says coolly.

Hah!! “Well. I’m sure you were really looking forward to swooping in to save some pathetic little loser, but I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. I’m doing great, actually. Just… out on a walk.”

“Uh huh.”

Why do they feel so defensive about this? “Sometimes I can’t sleep! Is there a law against that? Is it illegal to go for a walk?”

“It’s not illegal to go for a walk.”

“Well! What a relief! Then it seems like you have no justifiable cause to follow me around, harassing me!”

Claude snorts. “Wow. Okay, now I know you’re not with the Saviors. Those guys are way too sensitive for this kinda thing. And too sanctimonious for all that… you know. Lying.”

“Shows what you know,” Loop sniffs. “They’re not half as righteous as they’d like you to think.”

(But even so… She’s right, isn’t she? Siffrin would hate getting talked to like this. For a party of powerful warriors, the gang was awfully terrified by confrontation. Fighting Sadnesses is one thing, but fighting with each other? You couldn’t pay them enough.)

Claude gives Loop a flat stare. “For someone who’s not with the saviors, you sure act like you know them.”

“Well!” Loop says brightly. “W-Well!!! What if I told you that I used to be with them! For long enough to know them better than they know themselves!”

“I’d say you were full of shit.”

“Shows what you know!!!” Loop practically screams. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!!!”

“So tell me.”

* * *

Somehow, the whole story comes pouring out of them, in fits and starts and halting, hysterical gasps. Another life, another world. Another Wish. Another Mirabelle, abandoned to her fate. Another pathetic blinding failure of a Savior.

Claude listens, nodding. Then she says, “The King.”

“I’m familiar.”

“I wanted to be the one who beat him. The one Euph— The Head Housemaiden chose. I’m not saying I was right,” she adds, defensive. “Mirabelle is a marvel. There might be no one else who could do what she did. But I— I still wanted it to be me.”

Loop blinks.

“Mirabelle was… the right choice, probably,” Claude concedes. “Better suited. She’s got the right constitution, or whatever. No one could have done it alone. And I’m— I don’t know if I could have recruited like she did. Going around making friends and things. People don’t like me,” she explains. “People love Mirabelle.”

“I like you,” Loop hears themself say.

“Oh.” Claude stares for a beat, unblinking. “Really?”

“Yes.” They’re 90% sure that it’s not even a lie. When’s the last time they could say that?

“Oh. Well, um. Thanks. But I think you might have sort of bad taste. And maybe a bad personality.”

Loop sputters a laugh. “Haha!!! Yeah! I get that a lot.”

“Really?”

“No.” Most people are too scared to say it. “I should, though.”

Claude nods. She can understand that. “But I never got the chance. I couldn’t save everyone. I couldn’t even save anyone.”

“...How do you live with it?”

Claude shrugs. “Eat. Sleep. Don’t die.”

…Right.

“You should probably get out of here, though.”

Loop raises an eyebrow. “Are you throwing me out?”

“Are you actually stupid? Or are you just being difficult?”

(Hah!!!) “I’m being difficult.”

Claude rolls her eyes. “I just mean… You can’t step out of someone’s shadow if you’re still walking side-by-side. You gotta do your own thing.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then you can’t.”

“And if it kills me?”

“Then you die,” she shrugs. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted?”

Wow. Mirabelle’s roommate is… actually cool? “I think you could have done it,” Loop finds themself saying. “If you’d been the one Chosen. I think you could have beat the King. You just didn’t get the chance.”

Claude stares at them for a moment before her mouth ticks up. “Hah. Yeah. Maybe. No way to know now, huh? We just hafta go from here.”

*

* *

* * *

At the outskirts of town, a blot of stillness catches Loop’s eye. The absolute absence of movement. A hole in the dark, black against the surrounding gray.

“I told you,” Loop says coldly. “You’re not sneaky.”

Siffrin huffs a quiet laugh.

Loop eyes them warily. Even now, Siffrin has almost no presence. Almost like Loop is the one who survived, and they're the one who's dead.

For once, Siffrin is first to break the silence. “Running away from home again?”

“You are not my home,” they can’t help snapping. “But, well. I suppose so. Why not? After all, it went so well the last time.”

Siffrin chokes on a laugh. Then the smile drops. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I should hope not! I’m excellent company.”

Siffrin looks unconvinced.

“But there comes a time in every beautiful traveler’s life when they must shake off the bonds that hold them back and move on to bigger and better things! Forge their own path; digest their own trauma, etcetera and so forth! Maybe I’ll wind up even more famous than you!!”

Siffrin frowns. “…If you’re really leaving, can I ask a favor?”

“You can ask.”

“Can you tell me the truth?”

Ugh. “Fiiiine. I can’t stay because I—I can’t be here without— Without wanting my—” Their throat closes over the words. Fortunately, Siffrin isn’t so stupid that they can’t connect the dots. (My friends back. My life back. Everything that was supposed to be mine.)

Siffrin gives them a plaintive look. “We could share..:”

“Aw, stardust,” Loop laughs. Not a fake laugh. “Two people can’t be the same person. Anyway, we already aren’t.”

“...I know.”

This world’s Siffrin is the source of all of their problems. The root of all their suffering. So why does it make them so sad to see his shoulders droop?

“I’ll come back,” they hear themself mutter, grudging. “I won’t be gone forever. I wouldn’t—”

Loop falls silent. They know that they’re both thinking of the same scrap of paper, crumpled on the library floor.

“I won’t be gone forever,” they say again; only this time, they say it like a Wish. Like they can make it true just by wanting it. “I won’t disappear. I just—can’t be here. Yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Siffrin whispers.

“We all had our roles,” Loop shrugs. “You just got a better one.”

“But— But what if I never find you? What if we never—”

“We’re family,” Loop tells them firmly. A different kind of family. Not the kind you choose—the one you’re saddled with, by blood and bone, whether you wanted it or not. “Aww~~ Don’t worry, stardust. We’re bonded, aren’t we? You know I’ll always find you.”

“If you even want to,” Siffrin mumbles.

“Stars, how are you still such a brat!!! I’ll find you when I find you! Okay? You don’t get to control this! Just let there be one blinding choice that’s mine!”

Siffrin takes a breath. They let it out. “…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” they say again. “You can be in charge. But you have to tell me everything, next time. How you came back, and… everything else. Because we’re family.”

Loop can’t stop themself from smiling. It’s just that—it’s all so unfair. They way Siffrin always gets what he wants, and… the way they can’t help loving him anyway. “Yeah. Okay. I promise.”

Before vanishing from sight, Loop glances over their shoulder. “Stardust?”

“Loop.”

“How do you get used to it?”

Siffrin tilts their head. To what?

“The not-knowing.”

“Hah,” Siffrin huffs softly. “If you find out, write me a letter. I’d really like to find out.”

[You dreamed you were alive.]

Did you know that hamsters eat their young? If you stress out a nursing mother—leave her out in an earthquake, or make too much noise around her tank—she’ll eat her pups alive. You’ll open the lid to find her nest stained black with blood. The half-eaten husks of her children, their claws and bones and hindpaws shriveled-pink and lifeless. It isn’t malice. It’s pragmatism.��We can’t survive this threat, she’s saying. We must recoup these resources. Some of us, any of us, have to survive.

Wish Craft can’t hear your words. It only knows the Wish inside your heart. Loop ran away, but they never gave up. They wanted to be free, but they didn’t want to lose. And besides! What’s a little cannibalism between friends! They are family, after all.

There are things that Siffrin wants, too. Things they want and can’t have, because they’ve sunk their roots into the present. Loop isn’t trapped like that. Loop can go where they please.

Off the coast to the north lies an island that Vaugarde forgot. A graveyard for the lost. A monument to stories long forgotten.

But Loop knows how it is to be forgotten.

They look to the sky. The stars have already started to fade, making way for the brilliant flare of dawn. Loop runs a few calculations, cross-comparing the angles from the horizon to the Highstar and the sun.

They go north.

If you want, feel free to read the series in full here! Or if you want for something a lil comfier, you're invited to this very cozy isa/sif side-story.

[twisted-tales-told]

hi honey - maple harvest and amber!

Hi Linds!!! ILY!!

This ask game

First of all when I saw this I melted at honey because pet names make me die inside (in a good way)

Second of all, the second time I saw this I spent a full minute scanning the ask game for “honey”

Maple— a hobby you’ve always wanted to try but never have

I need to learn how to make clothing. I have a friend who knows how now & I need to absorb the skills second hand (Jackie if u see this I m looking at you)

What fictional character do you most identify with

James Potter. I am a James Potter girlie to the end of my DAYS. I don’t even care if I don’t seem like him. He’s mine.

Amber — share an unpopular opinion you have

I feel like I have a lot but also idk if they’re unpopular or if I just have good friends

TO PREFACE I AM ANTI-CENSORSHIP write what you want but that doesn’t mean I have to like it!! And I will be talking about things I Hate below this. Obviously not like. Directly at people because as said im anti-censorship

1. Snape is way way way wAYY more interesting to me that BCJ and I also like snape more than I like Barty. Like just because JKR was weird about him liking Lily doesn’t mean we have to keep that & you even that out a bit and you’ve got a VERY interesting character right there.

2. Regulus Black is NOT a slutty snarky dead inside sugar baby and it makes me ANGRY when people write him this way. I get livid about the current dominant characterization for Regulus SO MUCH. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all and tbh it’s 90% of why I left the fandom. Like truly it makes me so angry seeing him depicted this way. I have deep rage about it. This boy is a wet cat. In sophs words he is PRICKLY not PLUCKY. In Nats words he is SOGGY and a FREAK and a LOSER. He would not have friends in middle school. He is constantly living in the shadow of his cool older brother and wants to be like him and fails to recognize what is special about being himself.

Like James falling in love with him is entirely just James looking at the scraggliest most pathetic cat living in the woods behind his house and saying “yeah that’s mine”

And also regulus is mean to James because he’s scared of people leaving him not because Mean is one of his core character traits. Mean is nobody’s core character trait there’s always something behind the meanness and I rlly rlly hate when he Literally Bullies James. Like that’s not nice. I don’t like reading that personally it makes my chest hurt & not in a cute way.

ALSO the sugar baby trope doesn’t work when they’re both rich. That just doesn’t make sense. Regulus has more money than James and the only reason I think it’s written this way is—and same with Wolfstar—is because of heteronormative stereotypes. Which like if that’s what you want to be doing then fine okay go for it. I do hate it but if you care about my opinion then that rlly says more abt u & it is in fact a you problem.

3. I also have deep rage about the hc of James potter having BPD. I have seen it scrolling in the ao3 tags a couple times & like power to you ig but My neurodivergence that knows about psychology gets REAL mad about it because factually you’re just incorrect. Like BPD develops under very specific circumstances and I get really annoyed when that isn’t taken into account!!

You wanna talk BPD let’s talk Sirius Black, I am down to have that conversation.

But James Fleamont Potter does not have a single precursor to developing this personality disorder and it just gets to me. It gets to me okay? That’s my whole reasoning it just gets to me I hate when the psychology of a fic doesn’t make sense as to who the characters are at their core. In my head. So.

4. Learning to multi ship saves lives and if you’re not down for it at least a little bit then I do quietly think you’re gonna become one of those people who’s one day gonna be so close minded you’ll have the solutions to all ur problems appear on a plate in front of you and you’ll just be like “nah I’d have to leave my comfort zone”

5. Non fandom related…fun fact leaving your confort zone is a necessary part of life & you have to be willing to do so in order to learn, grow, and unlearn prejudice. So. Important skill to learn. Might as well start with ships.

ANYWAYS THIS GOT SO LONG

TL;DR: regulus characterizations in most fics rn make me ill, James potter deserves better than yall & so do i (not speaking of my beautiful lovely mutuals esp you Linds I am so sorry for unloading this on ur ask)

[l8rhader]

DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY ON: Your favorite pop culture reference in any of your works you don't think anyone got?

Ooooh I love this question! I have a couple, though.

Instead, Richie found himself staring at the TV until Saturday Night Live came on.  Knowing that the pretty blonde girl from ...Married With Children was hosting, he’d left it on, hoping for anything to take his mind off of everything else.  As he drifted off, to the soft jazz sounds of the goodnights, he had a very strange but pleasant dream of himself and Eddie packing it all in and moving through the country in a van.  Weird.

Sometimes, I put pop culture references in to use as a specific timestamp for my fics. So, this one, specifically, dates this moment in the fic as May 8, 1993. It's helpful because it does give you a good benchmark for the passage of time. [You Can Change Right Next To Me, Chapter 8]

ALSO, because I do write a lot of aus, especially movie/music inspired crossovers, sometimes, I'll have them mention going to a movie or whatever and use it as a plot device because it's like, you know what, my mental health cannot have me coming up with a whole ass My Girl AU because "He can't see without his glasses on! Put his glasses on!" but you know what I can do? Work it in as an innocent first date for them and have them come out of the movie theatre like what the fuck that's not a funny movie!!

“He was allergic to bees,” the dad answered.  And chocolate.  And cashews. And cats.  And ragweed. And soy. And Penicillin.  The mental list in Richie’s mind started to roll and he shook it away.  It was just a movie. Just a movie.  The little boy wasn't Eddie, despite the slight similarities and his own panic.

The little girl’s brow furrowed.  “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

Eddie pressed his face into Richie’s chest.  He couldn’t watch. “There were just too many of them.” Eddie was nearly killed.   In the back of his mind, Richie was sucked back to the summer of 1989, the rotten, crumbling floorboards of that fucking house on Neibolt street beneath him, trying his best to get Eddie out.  If he couldn’t get him out, he was going down fighting because if Eddie wasn’t leaving that house alive, neither was Richie. He’d begged for Eddie to look at him because he couldn’t imagine the last thing Eddie saw being Pennywise.  He wouldn’t let that happen. Fighting with Bill on the street that day felt like the one thing that had to happen. It had to. He was so scared and he couldn’t take it out on the clown. Bill was the next best thing. Bill had dragged them down there.  They were all there for him. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if Eddie had died that day. He didn’t want to think about it. Instead, he dug his fingertips into Eddie’s shirt, pulling him as tightly to him as he could manage.

They were both too wrapped up in the movie now to go back to ignoring it.  Eddie’s tears left wet marks on Richie’s shirt where his cheek was pressed to his chest.  Richie had kicked up the armrest on Eddie’s other side so they could lay like they were on one of their couches.  As the little boy’s funeral came around, Richie shifted, looking for the little girl. When she slowly started to make her way down the stairs to the parlor, Eddie whimpered.

“Wanna go tree climbing, Thomas J?” she asked, nearly climbing into the coffin with her best friend.  “His face hurts! And where are his glasses? Put his glasses on!” She dissolved into sobs, leaving both of the young men in hysterics.  Richie laced his hands into the back of Eddie’s shirt and tried not to insert himself into the movie. “He can’t see without his glasses.”  Eddie, on the other hand, was succinctly wrecked. He hadn’t quite had the immediate fear of Richie’s death put into his head, but he still knew just how close they’d come to this being one of them, what felt like a lifetime ago.

And things like that are some of my favorite ways to work in a pop culture reference because it's a good way of using something familiar to hammer home an emotion without having them have a really heavyhanded conversation. A conversation about those fears that have been there so long would have probably come out like an afternoon special if they'd had that conversation. Plus, at 15/16ish, neither of them would have been having that conversation unprompted, but when, later, they're talking about why they were crying so hard, you have that "He was allergic to bees" to call back to and realize that Richie knows all of Eddie's allergies by heart and the near-death experience of your childhood best friend and if you know My Girl, you have that second layer of emotion to guide where the pain is coming from. [Feeling Like I've Missed You All This Time, Chapter 4]

But, sometimes, it's just something offhand that I sit there and smile like an idiot when I write because it's just so perfect. like the comment about Richie being disappointed that he couldn't make jokes about Lance Bass's Ass being out of this world.

Eddie was quiet for a moment.  He thought it over, knowing that Richie meant it.  “But wasn’t one of them going to be an astronaut?  He had to be-”

Nodding evenly, Richie answered, “Yeah.  I was disappointed I wasn’t going to get to mention that his ass was out of this world.  Not that I had anyone to talk to about it.”  It was a quiet, lonely thought.  But Richie didn’t much care.  It didn’t matter anymore.

“Rich-”

Especially in that context, it's a little more like an in-joke with myself because I WAS the boyband girl when I was younger, but like... This one clicked so well when I was writing it, I felt like I just had to stop and pat myself on the back for the setting. Like, even Repression Era Richie had some Real Richie in him and like, I think that specific joke is something that is just... It's so telling that that's like 100% something he'd have said to Eddie at 15 for sitting on a rocket popsicle, or at 40 because Newly Out Eddie is getting adventurous and got a pair of underwear that has all of the planets on and Richie would not have been Richie if his boyfriend was going to /space/ and he didn't make at least one joke like that, but he didn't have anyone to make that joke to. That wasn't his world. And that's why it would never have worked, no matter how self-conscious Eddie gets about it because like... Richie may have loved Lance (or something) but Eddie is Eddie. I think, sometimes, it's fun to have a useful way to highlight that contrast, especially with a character like Richie. [Show Our Dedication]

To be honest, one of the reasons I think I love writing for It more than any other fandom I've been in is because I get to flex those nostalgia muscles that are all things that have been living in my head since I was way too young to be watching TRL and E!, you know? Like, I'm a little younger than the Losers, but my siblings are all right around the same age so, if any of you have older siblings, you know about the trickle-down pop culture knowledge, the ambient stuff that you know you're too young to remember but you DO and then you think about it and it's like oh... yeah. That's because my brother used to watch that, so even though I wasn't "watching" it was on in the background. Or, yeah, I'm a little young for this to be my specific memory of this videogame, but we were broke so my sister's old genesis was the one console i had until i got a used ps2 years and years after it was relevant. Like, I'm the baby in my generation of the family, plus, my parents are on the older side, so I have a lot of weird knowledge and memories that it's like "well why did you see the first scream movie in theatres. ditto to titanic." "because my sister that lived with us the longest was born in 1980, so my mom took her and i was just kind of... there."

Plus, I'm just generally fascinated by pop culture and it's effect on people and the times, so i tend to try to diffuse that into my writing because i want people to have that kind of visceral response to my writing, where it all feels very rounded and homey.

[asteriismos]

Next Door Neighbor -- Bill Denbrough

Authors Note : y’all know I love bill ;)) he’s my fav and that won't change. this also randomly turned into kinda fluffy smut but oops

Warning(s) : eighteen! losers club, masturbation, fluffy smut, a little OOC for bill, yet another reason I'm going to hell

Request :

Ik you just wrote two Bill smuts, but imagine being neighbors and best friends with bill and your bedroom windows are right next to each other. and then he watches you masterbate and the next day he’s acting all weird bc he didn’t know you do things like that and he’s never thought of you in that way. and when you ask him why he’s acting so weird he just snaps and is like "you should really close your window" or something like that bc 🥵

“I’m just saying, she’s not that bad if you look at her from the side,��� Richie Tozier said to Bill over the walkie talkie line. It was getting late, around 10 pm, and Richie had been on the walkie with Bill for an hour. Talking on walkie talkies was a little childish, but that was all of the losers favorite way of getting a hold of each other.

Bill laughed to himself, pulling out the chair to his desk and sitting down. “I’m going to pretend you’re not talking about Stan’s mom and politely ask you to change the subject.”

There was laughing on the other line, “Fine, Bill. Let’s see . . . Oh! How’s Y/N? She come back from her spring break trip yet?” 

Much to the losers dismay, you had gone on a spring break trip with your family all the way down to Florida. You were gone for the entire week and a half, not being able to even call them on the phone or the walkie. Apparently it was a ‘no technology’ vacation for your entire family, so none of your friends could even call you to see how you were doing.

It also sucked for Bill, because he didn’t have anyone to talk to when he was up late drawing or writing.

You had lived next to Bill for what felt like forever, your bedroom windows facing each other. Bill had put his desk to face that window so he could sit down as he spoke to you, who put your bed next to the window in your room to do the same. It was kinda depressing seeing you not there every day, your lights off and door open to your empty house. 

“I’m not sure, I haven’t checked to see if she came home yet,” Bill answered. He went to push back his curtains and open his window to see that your family was home. Your room was lit up and an open suitcase was laying on top of your bed, clothes strewn around the room. Your window was open wide just like his, but you weren't there to say hi. “Oh yeah, she’s home. But not in her room, she must’ve gone to take a shower or something.”

“Damn, you’re so lucky that you have a window that looks into a girls room,” Richie said. Bill scoffed, of course Richie would think that. 

“Actually, I don’t go looking into her room every second I get, so maybe she’s the lucky one. She could’ve gotten you as a neighbor,” Bill said, grabbing a pencil and reverting his attention to the paper that he was supposed to finish up over the break. He had left it to the last minute, like he was sure a majority of his class did as well. 

“You know I’m just joking . . .” Richie trailed off. “But you’re telling me you’ve never even peeked? Not once?”

Bill bit his lip. He really hadn’t. He respected your privacy, and didn’t want to get caught doing something like that and labeled as some kind of pervert by you. He didn’t want to make you feel creeped out or upset at him, so he just didn’t. Has he been interested before to just take one little peek? Yes, but he never acted upon it.

“Nope, not once Rich,” Bill answered. “Isn’t it time for you to have your late night talk with Eds anyways?” 

“Shit, you’re right. He’s going to think I just left him on his open line. Thanks Bill, and goodnight.” Bill muttered a small ‘mhm’ and left Richie’s line.

For the next ten minutes, Bill bullshitted his way through the closure of the essay, looking up once he heard a door open. His first instinct was to look at his own door, but it seemed to be coming from your door in your own room. You walked in, covered by only a towel. Your wet hair stuck to your shoulders, which had gotten considerably tan since he last saw you.

Bill was quick to do what he always did, shut his curtains so that you could have some privacy while changing in your room. He usually kept them closed for a good half an hour so he knew that you were finally done changing. And once his curtains were closed, he heard your towel drop to the floor.

The words Richie said to him were beginning to ring in his head. Especially the ones about just peeking.

No, that would be stupid. He couldn’t do that to you, especially considering the very definite possibility that you would catch him. You’d get so mad, and Bill didn’t want that.

Well . . . It wouldn’t hurt if he just looked for a split second, right? It would be fine, you were probably already done changing and he could then strike up a conversation with you and pretend that he didn’t just try to be a peeping tom. 

Channelling his inner ‘Richie’ or whatever you wanted to call it, Bill opened his curtain just a tiny bit, enough to see into your room with one eye. At first he didn’t see you, maybe you had gone downstairs.

But then he heard moaning.

Oh fuck.

Bill then saw you, real clear. You were laying on your bed, hand in between your thighs and moaning quietly. Your door was closed and you had surprisingly left your window open. Bill couldn’t believe what he was seeing and he was about to shut the curtain and forget this had happened completely, that was until he heard his name come from your lips. It was quiet, but it was definitely his name. You were imagining him. That his fingers were inside you and not your own.

To say that his pants tightened would be an understatement.

Bill couldn’t believe that you thought about him in that way. Sure, he had thought about that type of stuff before, and thought about the possibility of him having sex with you. But that was all just stupid stuff that his friends fed to him, that you liked him. That you would look at him with longing in the hallways at school and in the science class you had together. You always acted like you didn’t when you hung out with the entire group, but looking at the position you were in right now, it looked like that was all an act. 

Maybe he should do something about that.

~ the next morning ~

It was the last day of spring break before you went back to school for the remainder of your last high school year and you were looking forward to spending it with your best friends. You hadn’t seen them all break since you left to vacation in Florida, and you were dying to speak to them and hang out with them again.

You wanted to talk to Bill last night, but he seemed to have gone to bed early, since you called him on the walkie and he didn’t pick up. Which was strange, Bill was always the one to go to sleep in the early hours of the morning - especially during breaks from school.

Oh well, you’d see him today anyways. 

Your parents had gone out a few minutes ago for the day. They needed to get some things done on Main Street and also go shopping since you all cleaned out your fridge before going on vacation. That was fine with you, considering you didn’t plan on being home at all today. 

You walked outside of your house and looked around the street, breathing in the fresh air of Derry that you had surprisingly missed while you were away. Florida was pretty, but it didn't matter, Derry would always be in your heart. It was sad to think that soon enough you would be leaving this small town for college very soon, all of your friends would leave and go their separate ways. 

Your vision turned to Bill’s front porch where he sat, reading some kind of book. You chuckled to yourself. Typical Bill, head in a book unless you or one of the losers pulled him out of it. 

“Hey, Bill! Long time no see,” You yelled to him, making your way towards him and stopping at his steps onto the porch. He looked up and closed his book, shoulders obviously tensing up about something. He seemed to be thinking about something pretty important, especially since once he made eye contact with you his eyes widened. “Is something wrong?” You asked.

“No! I just didn't see you come up that’s all,” Bill replied, standing up to face you.

You laughed, “Okay, well, I actually was going to wait until I was with everyone, but Eds said that he needed a few extra minutes so I guess I can give you your gift now.”

Bill cleared his throat, “You got me a gift?”

“Yeah, don’t you remember asking for some shells? I swear you were the first one to ask.”

Bill breathed out, seemingly remembering that conversation he had with you after break. You squinted your eyes at him as he nodded his head. “Okay,” you said, a little weirded out by his behavior. Bill was never the one to forget, there must be something distracting him. “They’re in my room, c’mon.”

A few minutes later, Bill was standing in your room as you looked through your suitcase. You still had yet to finish unpacking, so everything was still all jumbled around in the rather large suitcase. You passed some shirts and threw some pants out, finally finding the bag that you had collected seashells in. You had spent an entire day looking for them for your friends, making sure that they were the coolest ones that you could find.

“Here,” You said, pulling out the bag and turning to face him. Bill was looking out your window, the same one that looked into his room. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he acting so goddamn weird?

“Bill, are you sure nothing’s wrong? Because your acting like I killed your cat,” You said, setting down the bag of seashells on your desk and putting your hands on your hips. “What is wrong with you today?”

“You should really close your window.”

It was a mumble, a whisper. You weren't even sure if you heard him correctly.

“What did you say?” You asked him.

“I said, Y/N, that you should really close your goddamn window.”

In a few short seconds, Bill walked over to you and put his hands on your cheeks, grabbing you and pulling you into a kiss. It shocked you, but you felt yourself melt into it. What did he mean about closing you window? You were sure that you had - oh shit.

You had forgotten to close your window last night. When you got out of the shower, when you were touching yourself.

He pushed you to walk towards your bed, falling on top of you when the back of your legs hit the bed and sent you flying backwards on top of it. Your hands lazily ran through his hair, earning a slight groan on his end. It was soft, way better than you imagined it to be. 

Because you’d imagined it more times than you were willing to admit. That hadn’t been the first time you touched yourself thinking about your next door neighbor Bill Denbrough. 

Your best friend, Bill Denbrough. 

“Wait, Bill wait,” you said, pulling away from his lips and moving your hands to cup his cheeks. “You’re my best friend. I mean, we practically grew up together.” His eyes looked straight into yours, his flushed cheeks tightening as he grinned, “Well, the other losers are your best friends as well. Do you masterbate thinking about them too? Do I need to be jealous of Eddie, or maybe Stan?” You rolled your eyes, laughing and hitting him playfully.

“No. Just you, stupid,” You answered, your own cheeks reddening at the fact that he caught you doing such a thing. You had been careless last night.

“Well then, maybe I can be more than a best friend then,” Bill stated, his lips attaching themselves to your neck, sucking lightly on the exposed skin. You gasped at the contact, your hands once again running through his hair and pulling at it. 

“What I’m trying to say, Bill, is that you’re my best friend and you don’t have to do anything,” You replied. “You don’t have to do anything just because I want to.”

“Y/N, let’s just say that you’re not the only one that’s touched themselves thinking about the person with the window next to theirs,” Bill said against your skin, his hands reaching under your shirt. His hands palmed at your breasts. “I want this just as badly as you do.”

And with that, you stopped talking and allowed him to pull off your shirt, exposing your tanned skin and white laced bra. He did the same with his shirt, pulling it off and once again allowing his hands to go to your chest.

Your lips went to his shoulder, peppering kisses along his skin, admiring the slight freckles that were there. His touches were soft, meticulously made, like he didn't want to hurt you for any reason. You internally swooned at the kindness he showed you, the love that you felt within his touch. Both of you had never seen each other in this context before, and it was a little confusing at first to think that the boy you grew up with was now in your bed. 

His left hand went from your chest and snaked down to the waistband of your pants and slipping past it when you tugged on his hair to continue. It wasn't long before he slipped a finger inside you, watching as your face twisted from admiration to lust, all from the pleasure that he was giving you. He took in every soft noise that you made, his lips coming and kissing yours once again as he slipped another finger in. His pace was beginning to pick up as well, and you couldn’t believe how much easier it felt to get to the brink of your climax when it was Bill’s hand instead of yours. 

The pit began to form in your stomach, the one that you always felt happen with yourself in over three minutes, but this time with Bill it had barely been two minutes and you already felt like you needed to release. 

Realizing this, he pulled his fingers out, licking them clean and then pulling his pants and boxers off, doing the same with your pants and underwear. 

“I want it to happen when I’m inside you, princess,” he whispered, sparing no time to push into you. You gasped at the sudden pain you felt, tears threatening to slip from your eyes and he wasn't even moving yet. Could you even take him? He wasn't all the way in yet, and you were already feeling pain like no other. 

After a few moments, the pain began to feel tolerable, it even felt a little good. 

“You can move,” you said to him, nodding and putting your hands on his shoulders. It felt as if your hands were made to be placed there, they fit so nicely on his body.

Bill began to move and it still hurt like a bitch, his hand went down and played with your clit, alleviating some of the pain and replacing it with pleasure. The shockwave of pleasure you were experiencing caused you to moan out, his own groans and noises starting to match yours. 

Your high was coming, fast. The more Bill played with your cit and the deeper he went made you spiral higher and higher.

“Fuck babe, you’re so tight. You feel so good,” Bill said, kissing you once again.

That’s when your orgasm hit, and you hit it hard. You moaned into his mouth, your hands squeezing his shoulders as you rode it out. You began to move your hips with his, causing him to go deeper than he had ever gone before. That’s when he came, moaning out your name.

He rolled off of you and laid there next to you, muttering words of praise while you both laid there. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“Well, Denbrough, if that’s what is going to happen every time I keep my window open, then I may never just close it ever again.”

Tagging List :

@big-dick-denbrough

@cupidsloverr

[thestarwrites]

All Right, All Might: Ch 12

Word Count: 6,200

Rating: PG

Painting: Toshinori Yagi X FemOC

THIS IS A LONG ONE, FOLKS! at 6,200 words! Because Patho is not participating in the Sports Festival and it is mostly passive watching, I am going to try to get through the whole shabang in two chapters!

———————————— CHAPTER TWELVE: THE UA SPORTS FESTIVAL!

Part One...

“Where’s your girlfriend, All Might?” Nemuri purred softly as she leaned over to the lithe form of Toshinori where they all sat in the teachers box, waiting for the first year competition to start.

“Nemuri,” he blushed, “Aren’t you the Chief Umpire? Shouldn’t you be down there.”

Giggling she ran her whip over his shoulders, “I will be in a moment, now, where is that little darling you are seeing?”

Nezu looked over with a smile, “Yes, where is Miss Chairo?”

Toshinori blushed harder and cleared his throat, “I mean- I’m not her keeper,” he frowned and then spoke again, “Where do you think she is? She’s making the rounds with the kids, trying to help them to be steady and to calm their nerves… as if I could stop her from doing anything she was going to do.”

Aizawa grunted, “Stupid.”

“Why are you always so cruel to her, Aizawa?” All Might grunted, “She’s a great asset.”

“You’re just soft for her because you love her assets.”

All Might grunted, “Hey! That’s not true or fair,” he scowled, “She’s a great teacher and hero.”

“Listen. It’s like I told her a few weeks ago. She’s a second-rate support hero, and she’s coddling these children who won’t get that type of treatment in the field.”

His eyes widened, “You said that to her?”

“She didn’t run and be a little tattle tale?” He scoffed, “I really expected her to run and cry and tell you that I was mean to her.”


“No!” He glowered, “Aizawa, that’s a terrible thing to say to a coworker.”

“Truth hurts sometimes,” He shrugged, “I’m heading to the booth to sit with Mic. Have fun,” With that Aizawa turned and left, still mostly covered in bandages.

All Might sighed and rubbed his temples.

-----

“All the other courses, they’re coming for us with everything they’ve got,” Izuku grunted, “We’re all gonna have to fight to stand out. And I’ll be aiming for the top too.”

Shoto grunted, “Fine.”

“Tch.” Bakugo looked over his shoulder, staring daggers at Deku.

The door slid open once more, they were wondering who could be coming to see them at such a late hour before the start, when no one responded, she could feel more than the average worry or fear in the room, “Wow, the air is really tense in here!”

“Miss Chairo!” Kirishima grinned and stood up, glad someone was there to break up whatever was happening right now.

Izuku turned to look at her, “Miss Chairo, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the other teachers?”

The woman chuckled softly, sending out pulses of calm energy into the room, “I’m sorry to save your group for almost last! But I had a lot of classes to visit this morning. I just came from 1-B those kids are… something.”

Some of the kids laughed, feeling a little better, “You visited EVERYONE?” Kaminari blinked.

“Of course, I did the same thing last year, I got a little caught up though, a boy named Tamaki almost threw up and passed out before he went out,” she gave a small smile, “Not that I think he’s doing any better this year but… we had some meetings last week to talk about it — ANYWAY, how are my favorites in class 1-A doing?”

“I’m a little nervous, Miss Chairo,” Mina squeaked.

“Well, first thing I want to tell you all is that you CAN call me Keri, you know. I’m not much older than you guys and I understand what its like going through all this.”

“Tch,” Rang out into the room, “No you don’t, loser. You didn’t go to UA.”

“BAKUGO! Not cool man! Thats so unmanly of you!” Kirishima chastised the blond, “I am SO sorry Miss Keri, he didn’t mean it!”

Keri laughed softly, “It’s okay, Eijiro. I meant I have experience talking to the teens last year, but thank you, Katsuki, no I did not. But I know that when I was in school, I watched the UA festival. So make sure you all do your best, and don’t be surprised when kids from other schools start to notice you.”

“Kids from other schools, oh god!” Miineta gasped, “I hope you mean girls!”

She chuckled, “Okay guys. I have to run and talk to 3-A quick, but you will all do great. No matter what place you come in, I am sure with how amazing you are, and the way you handled the USJ incident, that you will all get scouted for great internships. Just remember to breathe, and to be kind to yourself between games, hm? I’ll be watching!”

“Thanks Miss Keri!” Ururaka smiled.

She waved and left the room just as Kirishima was saying how manly she was to encourage them so well, before defending that being manly isn't reserved to being a man. Keri laughed and hurried down the halls to get to where the Big 3 of UA were awaiting their entrances.

Coming into the room she smiled, “Ah! I made it just in time!”

Mirio turned around and beamed, “Miss Keri! Hi! It’s really nice to see you before the big event!” He was the only one allowed to wear a stripped down version of his hero costume, since - he would be naked on live TV if he didn’t.

Nejire turned and gasped, “Hey!” The girl ran over to their guidance counselor and hugged her close, “I’m so happy you came to see us! Did you come to wish us luck!”

Keri hugged the girl back and smiled, “Yes of course I did, I’ve been running around like a lunatic trying to see how each class is doing, I just came from 1-A. Its tense in there.”

“Why wouldn’t it be tense…” rang out the shaky voice of Tamaki from the corner, “Everyones gonna be judging them so hard… after what happened at the USJ… Man I hope there aren’t villains watching…”

Mirio smirked, “Lighten up Tama!”

Keri smiled and went over to Tamaki, placing a hand on his back, her form glowing pink.

Nejire leaned over to the tall blonde and whispered, “I don’t think it’ll ever stop being neat that she glows pink.”

“Yeah!” Mirio whispered, “Like Tinkerbell!”

“Why do… do you waste your time on me, Miss Keri…. I… I never learn anything or… or get better…” he sighed softly, still anxious even though he visibly started to unclench all of his muscles.

She smiled warmly and turned his head to her, “You’re not a waste of time Tamaki, you’re just like a stubborn little cat, but you’ll get the hang of it eventually. I believe in you. I always have. And you have an incredible gift, Suneater.”

“I… Thank you…. Miss Keri… You’re too nice,” He sighed, “Definitely too nice to be talking to me…”

Chuckling she gently rubbed his back, “You’re going to do amazing today, Tama, don’t worry so much,” she pulled out something from her hoodie pocket, “Here, take this, its some electric eel - maybe you can get some of that electricity,” she smiled, “Smile, Tama,” she lifted his chin, “Don’t think about it. Get out of your head.”

“I- I’ll try…. Miss Keri… But…. But I’m probably just going to… to disappoint you,” he whimpered.

Smiling softly she rubbed his back a few more times, “You could not and would not ever disappoint me, Sunspot,” she smiled, “I’ll catch up with you after, okay?” He nodded, cheeks beet red, and she smiled, turning to the other two, “Okay guys! Show em’ what you’re made of!”

Once Patho left the room, with the festival about to start, Mirio smiled, “Man, she is just the nicest isn’t she?”

“Yeah!” Nejire smiled, “And she’s dating ALL MIGHT!” She swooned, “What a hunk…”

“H-hey! I thought I was a hunk!” Mirio whined.

Tamaki walked shakily over to his two friends and took a deep breath, “You know what… what I found out… about her….?”

The two looked over and blinked. It was a long moment before Nejire sighed, “Spit it out, Tama!”

He flinched and looked down, “You know how I…. I’m interning with…. With Fatgum?”

“Yeah…” Mirio looked at him.

Tamaki swallowed, “Keri and him… used to date when she was in college.”

“OH MY GOSH WHAT!” Nejire exclaimed.

Flinching from the outburst he nodded and wet his lips, “Yeah… he was telling me about her the other day. I mentioned…. Her or… something. I guess…. He dumped her…. He said he was a jerk about it…. He still… you know… feels bad… apparently….”

Mirio laughed a little, “Woah, I can’t believe it. They don’t seem like a good match at all, really… Also, Fatgum being a jerk? That’s weird.”

“HEEEEYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!! MAKE SOME NOISE YOU RABID SPORTS FANS…. GET THOSE CAMERAS PREPPED MEDIA HORDES… THIS YEAR WE’RE BRINGING YOU THE HOTTEST PERFORMANCES IN SPORTS FESTIVAL HISTORY GUARANTEED!”

“Oh heck! It’s about to start!” Mirio smiled, “You better eat whatever Miss Keri gave you, Tamaki!”

“O-oh yeah…” the boy started to eat, hands shaking.

“I’VE ONLY GOT ONE QUESTION BEFORE WE START THIS SHOW! ARE YOU READY!? LET ME HEAR YOU SCREAM AS OUR STUDENTS MAKE THEIR WAY TO THE BIG STAGE!!!”

Keri ran into the teachers box, out of breath as she smiled, “I made it just in time! I didn’t miss anything!”

Nezu looked over with a laugh, “I’m surprised you didn’t, Patho, you talked to what? All of our students today? Also… you aren’t in your hero uniform or dress clothes…”

She blushed, “Sorry sir…”

“No matter,” he sighed, “You never are in office wear so why would I start nagging now. Please, take your seat, its starting…”

“THIS FIRST GROUP ARE NO STRANGERS TO THE SPOTLIGHT, YOU KNOW THEM FROM WITHSTANDING A VILLAIN ATTACK! THE DAZZLING STUDENTS LIGHT UP YOUR TV WITH SOLID GOLD SKILLS. THE HERO COURSE CLASS 1-A!”

Moving to sit down, she mumbled, “At least I wear UA merch….” She took the empty seat next to All Might with a small smile, “Hi baby,” she moved to put her hand on his and gently ran her thumb over his large hand, “Hey… earth to Toshinori…?”

Looking over he took a breath, “Hey Sunflower - sorry, I’m just… nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous, honey, I just saw Izuku, he’s determined and he’s gonna be fine. He’ll make you proud.”

He nodded and moved to hold her hand gently, leaning into her, “You’re a wonder.”

“THEY HAVENTT BEEN GETTING NEARLY ENOUGH SCREEN TIME, BUT THEY ARE STILL CHOCKED FULL OF TALENT! WELCOME HERO COURSE 1-B!”

“Oh hush, you need to unclench yourself before you have a heart-attack Toshi, honey.”

He chuckled and nodded again, “You’re right. It’s out of my hands for now anyway.”

“NEXT UP, GENERAL STUDIES CLASSES C, D, AND E! SUPPORT CLASSES F, G, AND H! AND FINALLY BUSINESS COURSES I, J, AND K!”

“I just came from the Big Three,” she smiled.

“Oh yeah? I don’t know much about them except for Mirio Togeta. Remember I told you they wanted him to be my successor?”

She nodded, “Of course I remember,” Her fingers were deftly running over the skin of his wrist, “Mirio and Nejire are doing just fine, but Tamaki Amajiki is a wreck,” She sighed, “He and I have had counseling for the last two weeks about dealing with today. He is absolutely terrified. Last year he didn’t even compete he was so afraid.”

“He has an internship with Fatgum, doesn’t he?”

She nodded and took a deep breath, “Yeah, I’m going to have to speak with Taishiro about his insecurities and everything soon… I don’t really… want to.”

“Taishiro? You’re on first name terms with Fatgum? Why don’t you want to see him?”

“Shh! It’s starting,” she giggled a little and moved closer to him. Toshinori allowed himself to relax a little and throw his arm around her shoulders.

“SILENCE EVERYONE!” The sultry voice of Midnight cut through the speakers, “AND FOR THE STUDENT PLEDGE WE HAVE - KATSUKI BAKUGO!”

“ — Oh god,” Keri clenched her boyfriend’s hand, “Please… Please Katsuki say something not offensive. We talked about this,” she whispered.

“Maybe he’ll say something… uh - no he’s probably going to say something offensive,” All Might whispered to her, “Hun, you’re crushing my hand.”

“Sorry,” she tried to relax.

He leaned into the microphone and spoke in his even-keel voice, “I just wanna say, I’m gonna win.”

“Oh my god,” Keri slapped her forehead as the entire crowd booed, including the students. She watched as Bakugo descended the stairs cool as a cucumber.

“WITHOUT FURTHER ADO - ITS TIME FOR US TO GET STARTED…”

The obstacle course was fraught with dangers most of the first-year students have never faced before, but for class 1-A, they had already learned to fight. Even those students in 1-A without flashy quirks were in the leading pack. 1-B wasn’t far behind, but it was clear who was the probable Big 3 of the first years would turn out to be; Todoroki, Bakugo, Midoriya.

Keri looked around while Toshinori stood, clutching the edge of the box the teachers sat in with white knuckles. She could feel him practically vibrating with excitement and pride. A small smile graced her lips as she finally spotted who she was looking for - Enji Todoroki.

“HE WON!” Toshinori jumped up, as everyone stood to clap at the first place winner of the Obstacle Race. Keri stood to clap as well until the blonde picked her up and started spinning her around.

She laughed and yelped, “Toshi! Put me down!”

He did as instructed and the grin on his face was one unlike she had seen on him before. He felt complete watching his protege win and do as he asked - declare to the world that he was here now.

As the fanfare died down, the students filed in, and soon there were only stragglers remaining. The first 42 students to finish would be the ones advancing. Mostly all from 1-A and B, though there were some support course and general studies students as well.

Toshinori watched, giving a silent congratulations to young Izuku, and Keri walked up behind him, running a hand over his lower back, “Toshi, I’m going to take a look around.”

He turned from his daze and blinked, “Keri - you’re gonna miss the next event.”

“I wont miss it,” she laughed, “I’ll still be in the stadium. I want to check out what pros showed up. I feel like snooping,” wrinkling her nose she smiled, “Is that okay, Toshi?”

The older man chuckled, “Of course its okay, besides, you don’t need my permission.”

She smiled and took his hand, “Give me a kiss?”

He blushed and leaned down to her, kissing her lips softly, chaste enough for the setting, “Happy?”

“Always when I’m with you,” leaning up she pressed another kiss to his lips, “Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone now!”

Blinking he called out, “You’re the one who needs to stay out of trouble, Ree!” He took a deep breath and went back to his seat as Midnight began explaining how the Calvary Battle would work. He groaned to himself to know Midoriya had such a high point value on his head, but this is what he expected - he after all had been through three Sports Festivals in his day too.

Keri walked around, saying hello to some of the pros and parents she already knew. She didn’t stop long because she knew who she was looking for; Enji Todoroki.

The cavalry battle was well underway, and Keri had found Shoto’s father and standing a ways away from him, she took some time to watch some of the game now that she was on the lower levels. It was certainly harrowing. She’d always watched the festival growing up, and every year into her adulthood. She had only missed it a handful of times due to clinic hours and exam schedules. She couldn’t imagine having to compete like this.

As a support course student at Ketsubutsu Academy, she remembered her own first meeting with the kids from UA, going to take the provisional license exam in first year. She first met Aizawa there. He was taking the test again as a second year - him and Hizashi both. She also had met Fatgum for the first time there, he had flirted with her and it was the spark going forward when they met again later. She was too bashful and unsure of herself at the time to do anything but smile politely and hide in the crowd. It was so strange to see these kids who she had seen on television.

She never actually had passed the provisional license exams. Which was just as well, she was never really trying to. Already on the path to researching how to get into a hero college for Psychology / Support Training. Keri never intended to do any hero work until she had met with principal Nezu to discuss her joining the staff.

Keri remembered that day fondly;

“Well, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked to meet with you a third time, Miss Chairo,” the calm voice of the principal sounded out.

The young woman nodded, “Of course, sir, I am both excited and afraid to be here.”

The man laughed, “Afraid?”

“Of rejection, I suppose.”

Chuckling, he took a sip of his tea, “Well good thing for you a rejection isn’t something you will be facing today. I would like to offer you the position officially as our first ever guidance councilor.”

“For real!? Oh my god are you serious, Principal Nezu, sir?!”

“Oh yes, quite,” he laughed, “Some of the other teachers are wary about hiring a woman who not only did not attend UA, but is also Twenty- Seven and has no Hero License.”

Her cheeks reddened, “Well, I was always too focused on my goal of becoming a licensed therapist. Besides, you’ve seen my quirk and it’s not fit for hero work, I can tell you that.”

He smiled, “And why not?”

“I’m not the strongest, I know how to fight well enough to defend myself - but I’m not fast either, all I can do is manipulate emotions, sir. I would be a liability on the field.” She looked down.

He let that hang in the air a moment before beginning, “You know what a liability is in the field for heroes? People who are panicking, people who are out of control or want to run into a burning building to save others, instead of letting the heroes and fire department handle it. People who need to have a sense of urgency to leave a building - or to evacuate an area calmly.”

“I… I don’t understand, sir.”

“What I’m saying is, no your quirk is not flashy, and you’re no fighter - but, your quirk is powerful enough for you to be a first rate support hero. Think of the possibilities for crowd control, victim aftercare, hero aftercare…”

“You… really think so, sir?”

Nezu nodded and smiled, “So, this is the condition for your employment. You work here for me and the school, and I will help you to get your Hero License before the start of your first term.”

“Of - of course, sir!”

“Well excellent. Welcome to the UA family, Keri.” He stood and crossed to shake her hand.

Keri shook it and beamed, “Its such an honor sir, thank you! Thank you so much! I will work the hardest I can to realize your goal of having a functioning and productive guidance office for the heroes of tomorrow! In fact - I’ll go beyond! Plus Ultra!” She smiled.

She was interrupted from her reminiscing when she saw something she wholly did not expect; Shoto Todoroki got cornered, and in his haste - used his Fire quirk. She blinked and shot an eye over to where she remembered Enji standing to see the hulking red-head smirk, arms crossed. The action turned her stomach.

Walking slowly over she hummed, “Hello again, Enji.”

He tensed, she could feel the anger wafting off of him, “You really have never had any respect, have you, little girl.”

“And obviously neither have you, Enji,” she punctuated her sentence with his name once more, “And the name is Keri, if you have actually forgotten it. I find people should be on first name terms with each other, it makes for a healthier working environment.”

“We don’t work together,” He responded flatly, never taking his eyes off the field.

Chuckling she leaned on the wall beside where he watched, “No but we do work concurrently.” He made a soft sound, “Your son is doing very well today,” she smiled, “He is a great kid.”

“He could have done much better in the obstacle course if he applied himself.”

She didn't look at him, “If he used his fire, you mean?”

Turning to look at the insignificant support hero beside him, he grunted, by her tone he could tell that she suspected something was going on with Shoto, something going on at their familial home that was untoward, “I don’t like your tone.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t. Not as the number two hero who prides on having a son who has both his parent’s quirks. Though I have noticed that he doesn’t use the fire quirk, why is that?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she smiled and finally turned her face to his, “Anyway, It was nice seeing you off the battlefield, Enji.” And with that she turned and walked away from him. An impish grin came over her face as she felt the older man seething behind her. She absolutely couldn’t stand Enji, and how defensive he became - she knew something was up.

---

Walking through the halls, the second event of the festival was over with the top four teams advancing - she smiled, knowing Izuku was in there with a lot of his classmates. She was greatly impressed by the fact that Ururaka was in there as well.

“There you are,” the voice of All Might rang out, “I was looking for you everywhere hon— Patho!” He beamed.

“Hey All Might,” she smiled warmly, “Enjoying the games so far?”

He chuckled, “Yes of course I am - why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?”

“Mmm… I may have just come from pestering Enji Todoroki.”

Toshinori raised his eyebrows and smirked, “My girl likes to live on the edge huh? Look at you, playing with something as dangerous as a live bear.”

Keri huffed a bit, “I just can’t stand that man, someone should put him in his place. He called me little girl.”

The mirth faded from his face and he put a hand on his hip, “Is that so? You think someone should put him in his place? Maybe that someone should be me,” the smirk he gave then was one unique to when All Might was pissed off. He was full of spite and contempt as he went to walk off.

Grabbing his hand she blushed, “Ah - Toshi, wait!”

Turning he looked down at her, “If your boyfriend can’t defend your honor, maybe the number one hero can,” he winked and pulled gently away from her, heading in the direction of Enji.

Keri blushed and tagged along after him, in case she needed to break it up - Enji was a dangerous man.

“Yo,” he started. Keri rolled her eyes, the straight up alpha male energy was off the hook, “Long time no see, let's catch up - Endeavor.”

The hulking redhead didn’t turn at first, “All Might,” he growled before turning and staring daggers into the blonde’s eyes. He didn’t even bother to notice the little rabbit at his heels.

“I haven’t talked to you since that press conference ten years ago! Been awhile - I saw you and figured I’d stop and say hi!” The smile never faltered from his face.

“Did you now?” He scoffed, “Well if that’s all you wanted then we’re done. Tch, chatting like we’re old friends - what a joke.”

Keri winced at the awkwardness of the brief interaction. It was very clear to her that he absolutely hated Toshinori with everything in him. She gasped as Toshinori started to laugh. It was so condescending. He suddenly launched himself into the air doing flips and spins down the stairwell.

He landed in front of Enji with another laugh, “Come on! Why the cold shoulder!?” He smirked, “You should be thrilled! Your son is doing very well out there only using half his power. You must be a great teacher!”

The men were locked in a tense stare as Toshinori’s girlfriend stared on. What was he getting at? Endeavor grunted, “Are you implying something?”

“NO! I want to know your secrets! How do we train the next generation of heroes?”

Enji scoffed, “Do you really think Id tell you anything Ive trained the boy? You’re all flash and no brains, as usual - out of my way,” he pushed past him, shoulder checking the man.

“Okay!” He sighed.

“Let me assure you of one thing, All Might. That kid of mine WILL beat you some day, I’ll make sure of it. That’s why I MADE him.”

Toshinori looked uncomfortable, “You did, what?”

The large fire hero grinned widely, wildly, “He’s in a rebellious phase right now, but he will take your place. I’ll make SURE of it,” Turning he moved to continue to walk down the stairs, “And tell your little groupie to stop meddling, got it? She’s not worth the dust on my boots.” All Might clenched his fists as he watched Endeavor disappear from sight.

Keri heard the confession of the man up on the balcony, covering her mouth as she held back a gasp. Thats why Todoroki wouldn’t use his quirk. She could feel herself tremble as absolute devastation filled her - she could only imagine what Shoto’s life was filled with as she fell to her knees.

“Sweetheart!” He moved to run back up the stairs when he saw her fall, “Keri - what’s wrong?”

She was glowing at this point, tears in her eyes as she covered her face, “God- Toshi - What has he done? He’s … he’s a monster… how can he even call himself a hero? Let alone the number two?” She shook her head, “Oh god - his poor children,” she put her head down and wept.

He felt his own tears prick his eyes from the effect of her quirk, “Shh… shh honey, calm down, it's okay Keri… it’s okay,” after he set her back on her feet he cupped her cheek, “Come on - lets go to your office and I’ll go grab some ramen and come back, we have an hour for lunch, hm?”

Looking up she wiped her eyes, trying to contain her quirk as people were starting to stare, “Tosh- Pull away from me, people are looking.”

“I’m doing no such thing. You’re upset,” he sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Come along, let's get to the school and then I’ll get us some takeout. We can also talk about everything if you want.”

Nodding she allowed herself to lean into his side as he led her from the stadium with his hand on her lower back. She felt exhausted suddenly, “God I hate it when I go into overdrive like that…” She whined gently.

“I know exactly what you mean,” the pro smiled down at her.

As they walked, a few reporters ran forward, “All Might! Hey! How are you liking the festival so far!”

He looked up and smiled a little, not stopping, “THE KIDS ARE DOING INCREDIBLE THINGS OUT THERE TODAY! THEY’LL ALL MAKE GREAT HEROES!”

“And who is this you’re escorting? Do you finally have a girlfriend, All Might?” A female reporter crooned.

All Might looked like he was thinking of something to say, “Oh no,” Keri smiled tiredly, “I’m the UA guidance counselor - I used my quirk a lot today, kind of overdid it actually. All Might was just kind enough to help me to my office - he’s overly worried about his coworker passing out or something.”

He smiled, “Yes- and all of you should definitely know who she is! She’s Patho! The Support hero!”

“Oh yeah,” one of the other men commented, “That’s right, Principal Nezu did say he was trying a new program last year — Miss Patho, may my station come and do an interview with you some time? I’m sure everyone would love to hear from one of the first Student Hero Therapists.”

Blushing she smiled, “Of course - call the school and press five for my office, we will set something up,” she bowed slightly, “Excuse me please, I really need to go sit and eat something so I can make sure I’m of use the rest of today - and in case any students need me.”

The reporters all respectfully withdrew as the two of them continued. All Might smirked and leaned down a little, “Kitten, you’re a natural.”

Laughing softly she looked up, “I’m a guidance counselor, I act like this to everyone.”

“Not to me,” he winked.

She laughed, “Well because when I met you, I was shell shocked, and then we became friends so fast… but sometimes we get clinical together, you know. I’ve used my psychology powers on you.” She wiggled her fingers.

He laughed and continued on inside and up to the guidance office with her.

---

Closing the door and pulling down the privacy shade he knelt down, still in hero form, “Come here, Sunflower.”

Moving to turn and throw her arms around his large shoulders she sighed, “Oh Toshi… I feel so… devastated for Enji’s family… Shoto is so unwilling to talk. But I think he needs therapy probably more than any of his classmates.”

Holding her close he kissed the side of her head, “I know… I have never been very friendly with Enji - well, I have, but he won’t have it. And I know he mistreats everyone around him - even you, baby,” he gently rubbed her back, “Okay, I’ll go get us ramen - you want your usual?”

Pulling back to look at him, she stroked his face, “That sounds perfect,” leaning in she kissed him adoringly.

Humming into the kiss he slid his hands to her waist, “We should have a date night tonight.”

“Sounds good, hun,” she kissed his forehead, “Be safe getting our food,” he moved to jump out the window, “AND NO HERO WORK! WE ONLY HAVE AN HOUR FOR LUNCH!”

“Yes dear,” he winked, and with that he was off.

----

After lunch, Keri and Toshinori ran hand in hand back toward the stadium, “We’re late! We can’t miss this! Midoriya is first up!”

“Calm down Toshi - you have one lung for god’s sake!” She sighed as she was pulled along.

When they arrived, there was no time to go up to the teacher’s box, Toshinori pulled her right into an entry hallway and they stood at the mouth of it to watch the match between Hitoshi and Izuku.

“Oh no,” Keri raised her brows.

Toshi turned, “Oh no what!”

“Hitoshi - he’s from general studies. If he asks Izuku a question - and he answers - he’ll be bound to do what Hitoshi tells him. This match will be over before it even begins.”

“WHAT?!” Toshinori looked back out to the match with horror, “Come on, kid…”

“Poor thing… this is so painful,” Keri sighed, hand on All Might’s back.

Suddenly as a burst of wind came from Izuku both adults were absolutely gobsmacked, “WHATS THIS!? HE STOPPED JUST IN TIME!” The voice of Prezent Mic rang out. And in a matter of what seemed like seconds, the purple haired boy was body slammed out of the ring. Midoriya victorious.

All Might looked to his girlfriend, “What the hell was that?”

“Your protege won, what do you mean?” She smiled, “You can ask him later, don’t worry about it now, he’s advancing. I’ll have to make sure the kids in the finals all get appointments when school reconvenes, poor Hitoshi - he’s had such a hard time. He really should be in the hero course, he just doesn’t have the combat training… I know what that’s like.”

Toshinori looked down to her and sighed, “You know… I always forget that you weren’t in a hero course… to me you are a hero, but… you should know what kids like Izuku and Shinsou go through better than anyone.”

Nodding she patted his back, “Do you want to go to the nurse with him? Get some talking in?”

He nodded, “Come with me?”

“No no, you go on, I’m going to go find Hitoshi,” she smiled and padded off in the direction he had gone, while Toshinori followed Midoriya toward Recovery Girl’s temporary office.

“Hitoshi, wait up!” She called out.

He turned and let out a sigh, “Miss Chairo… I didn’t expect to see you so soon… Though, I should have known you’d talk to the losers.”

“Hey. Stop right there,” she sighed and put her hands on her hips, “I wanted to come and talk to you because you did an incredible job today. You know that I think you belong in the hero course, but it isn’t up to me, unfortunately. But even if you don’t, there are still ways to become a hero you know.”

“You think I did incredible?”

Smiling she nodded, putting her hand on his back and filling him with man echo of pride, “Yes. You should be extremely proud of yourself, Hitoshi. I know I’m proud of you - and your classmates are too. I’m sure the hero course students also think you are a wonder. And even though young Izuku won today, I’m sure he thinks of you with the utmost respect.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, “I’ll be a hero.”

“Yes you will, of that I have no doubt.”

The boy finally cracked a small smile, “I’m gonna go sit with my classmates upstairs, is that okay?”

“Of course it is, you’ll come see me when school starts up again?”

He nodded, “Yes Miss, I will… thank you for caring.”

“Thank you for giving it your all, Hitoshi,” she smiled and waved at the boy as he hurried off to sit with the General Studies students upstairs. Nodding she felt a little better about what happened, satisfied he would be alright, as she headed back to the stadium to watch the next fight.

Taking her glasses off and running her hands over her face, she sighed, “God, today is such a long day… I’m glad they only have these once a year…” Looking up she sighed, “Oh god, this is gonna be another short one… AH!”

She had to dive out of the way as ice shards came flying into the hallway she occupied. One of them cut through her pant leg, slicing her thigh, the other cutting her cheek, “Fuck!” She gasped as she covered her head from the rest of the blast.

When the dust finally settled she looked up, the entrance to the hall was blocked with ice, she couldn’t see anything, but she already knew who won. Sighing, she pushed herself to her feet and moved to head to Recovery girl for some bandages, “He must have spoken to his father,” she hummed tot herself, pressing a cloth to her cheek to stop the bleeding.

Knocking on her door, she called out, “Chiyo, it's me!”

“Come in dear!” She called out.

Opening and shutting the door she was met with a familiar husky voice, “KERI!? What happened to you!? Are you alright!?”

Looking up she smiled, “Just hit by some stray ice shards…”

“That’s what that was? Ice?” Recovery Girl blinked, “The whole building shook!”

She nodded, “I just need some bandages.”

“Here - let me,” Toshinori went and grabbed some supplies, “Sit on the bed, Sunflower.”

Doing as she was instructed, Recovery Girl couldn’t help but smile, “You know, you two are the cutest couple I have seen in a long time. I was hoping you two would realize you had feelings for one another, I just didn’t think it would take so long.”

Blushing hard, Toshinori gently stuck a bandage to Keri’s cheek, kissing it tenderly, before looking back at her, “Well… you know… with everything going on its hard to have time for a love life…”

Keri smiled and ran a hand over his cheek, “You take such good care of me, my hero.”

Chiyo chuckled, “Honestly, so sweet, don’t let that girl go, do you understand me, Toshinori? You two were definitely made for each other.”

Toshinori blushed harder and nodded, cleaning and bandaging her thigh, kissing that as well, “All better.”

Leaning in she kissed his forehead, “Have you been getting enough rest? Should we head back up to the teachers box? You’ve been in Hero Form a lot of today already.”

“She’s right you know, go watch the rest of the matches. Some of the others have been quick as well, but the second rounds will start soon.”

He nodded, “Come on, Ree, let’s head back to our seats.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.4

Lance kept the rear view mirror on the two strangers in the back. The shorter one of the two was unfairly hot. Lance might never have had sex, out of fear of losing self control, the fact he was monster, and he didn’t know if he was going to knock some poor stranger up with some half vampire kid, but he knew well enough that the man was edging on his type. Untalkative, the man had his arms crossed, hand clutching the raspberry slushy Pidge had forced upon him. He looked as impressed to be in Lance’s car, as Lance was to have him there.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you three do that has you out so late at night?”

Lance did mind. Thanks to Pidge these two strangers had been committed to memory for the rest of his undead life

“Man, you don’t want to get Pidge started...”

Hunk was also uneasy. He’d found his way into the bag of chocolate eclairs, the pile of wrappers now more than the chocolates left

“Oh? Pidge?”

“We’re paranormal investigators. You’ve heard all about Garrisons blood past... well, we’re going to be the first to capture it all on film”

Shiro raised an eyebrow, Lance accidentally meeting his eyes in the mirror, quickly averting his gaze back to the road

“Oh, but Lance is a lawyer... He’s the serious one who doesn’t believe in ghosts”

Thanks for that Pidge, now Shiro’s attention was on him

“You’re a lawyer?”

“Yep. Got the fancy piece of paper and everything”

“Wow. What kind of law do you practice?”

“Family”

Yeah, Lance knew his manners were lacking, he didn’t need Pidge kicking the back of his chair like she did

“Ah. That must be tough”

“Some days are worse than others, but it is what it is. What do you two do?”

It was on the tip of Lance’s tongue to mention the photography thing, but being a dumb human meant they didn’t always remember what was said

“That’s right, you said your brother was into photography?”

Aaaaand the attention was back on Pidge

“Yeah, Keith likes to take photos, it’s more a hobby than anything. I’ll save you the details and just say I’m in finance. Not terribly interesting”

Great. A finance guy right next to the registered hacker of the group...

“Sounds boring”

Shiro snorted a laugh. Lance cursing mentally that he now had Keith’s name in his head

“It has its moments. So you guys are into the paranormal? Ever see anything?”

“Not yet. But you never kno-ooow. Watch where you’re driving!”

Turning onto the dirt road that lead to his house, Lance could have probably been gentler on the ditch. Each year the council filled the damn thing up, only for it to all erode away with the first rains of the year

“If you’re not used it by now, you never will be”

“That’s because you can’t drive for shit”

“It sounds to me like you want to walk home in the morning”

“I’ll be good”

Lance’s lips betrayed him with a smile. Pidge would never “good”, her rebellious behaviour was just another thing about her to love

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve told me that a hundred times and I’m still waiting”

“Oh, shut it, dad”

“If I was your dad, you’d be grounded for life”

“That’s fine. People suck anyway”

“With no wifi”

Pidge lunges forward in her chair, an arm coming around him in a hug

“I’ll be good! Please don’t take my wifi away”

“As if I could. You’re the one who set it up”

“Oh, right. Guess I don’t need to be that nice to you then”

Licking his cheek, Lance wrinkled his nose

“You’re so fucking gross”

“You love me”

“That I do. We’re nearly home. Sorry it’s not much, I don’t really have visitors over. And I hope you’re not allergic to cats, Blue likes to shed all over the place”

In the back, Keith scoffed

“What kind of a name is “Blue” for a cat?”

How dare he insult Blue and her perfect little body of complete perfection. Blue was Blue, his number one girl, not a number one emo reject in the backseat of a strangers car because he hadn’t bothered learning basic maintenance

“I don’t know, what kind of name is “Keith” for a mullet”

When Shiro laughed, Lance was certain it was the man’s first real and genuine laugh for the night

“He’s got you there”

“Go fuck yourself”

Pidge laughed as Keith sulked. If he wasn’t good at taking a joke, then he shouldn’t be dishing it out. Not that Lance was one to talk

“Don’t mind him. He gets cranky when he’s sleepy”

The wrinkles between Keith’s eyebrows deepened at his brother’s explanation

“You’re the one who could have just got a hotel room”

“And you’re the one being rude. Lance, and his friends, are doing us a favour”

“Or they’re going to murder us in our sleep”

“Nah, man. That’s too much effort. I’ll make you a deal though, you don’t murder us and we won’t murder you”

Keith seemed even grumpier at Lance’s joke, Lance just anxious to reach his house already. This was terrible idea, a disaster in the making, and the plot of a pretty average b-grade movie. One thing was for sure though, he wasn’t wearing a matching bra and underwear, pretty much guaranteeing he wouldn’t be the first one murdered.

*

Parking by the steps of the porch, the rain started pelting down as Lance cut the ignition. Relieved to finally be home, he could see Blue sleeping on the windowsill of the living room, having decided to ruin yet another set of vertical blinds in her search for the perfect napping spot. Seeing her was what brought the greatest relief, not the warm light filtered between the blinds, and the knowledge his house would be nice and warm with his bed waiting for his tired arse. Opting to leave the equipment in the car for the night, Lance figured he’d collect it once the other’s fell asleep. All Pidge needed was the camera cards, and her laptop, which she was small enough to climb into the trunk for. God. He really didn’t want strangers in his house, judging things, and even worse, touching things. He liked all his things and he liked them where they were. Routine was key to keeping his sanity, and familiarity helped his Mami whenever he brought her home for a visit.

Fleeing from the car, they all managed to get themselves wet despite the short distance. The rain didn’t bother Lance, not when he couldn’t actually catch a cold from prolonged exposure to the cold. It was his guests his had to worry about

“Come on in. Leave your shoes by the door and I’ll grab us all some towels. Shiro, you and Keith probably don’t have a change of clothes with you, so I’ll lend you some robes now. You can chuck your stuff in the machine, then put it in the dryer before heading to bed. Hunk, wanna show them through the kitchen? I know we’ve got snacks, but I would kill for a glass of red”

“You got it, buddy”

The look in Hunk’s eyes seemed to question if he really wanted Shiro and Keith to know where Lance kept his knives. Hunk was too polite to blurt that out, not like Pidge who had no filter

“Out the way losers, I’ve got a date with my princess”

“My princess, is sleeping on the living room window sill. Don’t blame me if you get scratched”

“That’s just her way of telling me how much she loves me”

“Or how much you drive her insane”

“Rude, much. I’ll meet you guys in the kitchen when I’ve got my Blue”

Pidge pushed both her slushies over to Hunk, Hunk seemed nervous about left alone, but mentally rallied as he managed a smile

“The kitchen’s through here”

With three robes and a bundle of towels, Lance returned to the kitchen where Hunk had started stress baking. The signs were obvious, from the flour next to the mixing bowl, to Pidge sitting on the kitchen bench with an unhappy looking Blue held in her lap

“Sorry, some lazy arsehole didn’t sort the linen closest”

It was lie. He simply, really, truly didn’t want to deal with his visitors. Passing Shiro and Keith a robe and a towel each, Lance went on to wrap a towel over Hunk’s shoulders, then throw Pidge’s at her. Catching the towel, she managed to keep Blue contained in her lap, despite Blue’s displeasure

“Let me guess, that means you?”

Lance’s big blue eyes widened, shocked Shiro would make a joke

“Damn, Lance. I think I might just like this one”

“Oh, bite it, Pidge. Yeah. That lazy arsehole’s me. Even if there were more hours in the day, I’d still probably spend them sleeping. Did Hunk offer you guys a coffee?”

“Already on it, man. I’m whipping up some butter cookies to go with the tea”

Lance sighed to himself again, mentally of course because his mother would have smacked his arse had he done it out loud. He didn’t do guests for a reason. The feeding them thing was annoying

“I hope you don’t mind, but can you show us where the bathroom is?”

Right. They were wet. He was wet. He was supposed to be human, which meant sliding his robe on over his clothes, or rather starting too then realising it wouldn’t go on over his jacket. God. He was making an idiot of himself.

With his jacket over his chair, Lance flashed Shiro and Keith a smile

“Yeah, through here. You guys can go ahead and take a shower if you want. I mean, seperate showers, or whatever, no judgment if you’re into that kind of thing. Sorry, I’m not used to visitors. Feel free to use whatever you find in the guest bathroom, most of it’s Hunk and Pidge’s stuff they’ve left here, but there’s fresh soap bars and spare toothbrushes in the second drawer”

Someone needed to shut him up. Stitch his goddamn lips together, then bury him until his embarrassment worse off. Lance’s moves were still as he led his guests from the kitchen to the bathroom

“Here we go. I’ll put you in the spare room down here, and we’ll sleep upstairs. There’s not much down here, just my office which is the end room. Your room will be the next door up, it’s got two twins in there, so plenty of space. Pidge set up a charge pad, because you guys probably didn’t bring your chargers either. If you go all the way the other way in this hall, you’ll reach the laundry. Everything’s out in the open, so help yourself. I know this is awkward as fuck, and probably is for you two, but there’s no saying no to Pidge once she thinks something is a good idea. Oh, yeah, don’t be afraid to take your time, if you get lost, give us a yell”

Shiro thanked him, towing Keith into the bathroom by the arm. Lance not going to question that one. Not at all. Nope. Nooo... God that family had some good genetics though. Under all his brooding pouting, Lance had caught sight of Keith’s eyes... Eyes like two small galaxies had been captured and shoved in there. How they were so damn purple when he was human, Lance didn’t know, but fuck it was unfair.

When the bathroom door closed, Lance headed down to the office. Pidge couldn’t be trusted with electronic locks, leaving him the only option of dead locking the door. His explanation was that the cases he worked on deserved privacy, which his two friends respected. He’d let them in the office once to satisfy their curiosity, Pidge finding the sheer number of books boring. On the outside it appeared a normal office. Bookcases, filing cabinets, his framed diploma, laptop, printer, all those sorts of normal office things. His desk was organised around the clutter, that totally wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help he had a weakness for quirky stationary. His current favourite pen was decorated with dancing cacti. The small things in life helped him deal with life’s less than pleasant things. Under his desk were the only two anomalies of the room. On the left, instead of drawers, was his wine rack. On the right, behind the drawers, was his fridge. Lance might be the worlds biggest klutz with his glasses on, but he wasn’t stupid enough to leave his blood bags where everyone could see them. Locked behind a heavy iron door, the previous fireplace of the room meant no one paid much attention to the outside protrusion where it once sat. He’d kept the decorative tiles in place, making a feature of it around his desk in order to keep the questions to a minimum. When it came to time leave his current set up, he was going to be devastated.

With precious minutes ticking down, Lance grabbed himself out the blood pack he’d started for the day. He never let himself go hungry, but with two strangers in the house it was better he let himself have a small feed just to keep his nerves in check. Grabbing down a wine glass and the closest bottle of Shiraz, he poured himself a double before pouring in a good double shot of blood. The bag was O+, not his favourite, yet not the worst. He wasn’t one of those blood snobs that only every drank one type. He was grateful for what he could get, and more grateful to the people who donated their blood under their own free will. Naturally they were compensated for their blood and their time, Coran who ran the blood bank in Platt wasn’t a man to be messed with. Lance knew Coran wasn’t human, yet he had no clue what race he was, nor did he have any idea the race of his niece Allura who often helped out. The pair of them were the coordinators for most of Platt city, and the surrounding area, providing safe blood for those not in a coven or forced from a coven due to whatever reason, with in reason... He knew they weren’t human, as neither of them had aged a single day in all the years he’d known them... which was a pretty long time when he stopped to think about it... which he definitely didn’t have time to right now.

Straightening up his office, Lance then headed back to the kitchen. Hunk busy with the cookies he’d just placed in the oven, while Pidge was sipping on her slurpy. Blue knew she wasn’t supposed to be on the kitchen table, yet gave zero fucks, Lance striding over to scoop her up and pepper her with kisses, after placing his glass down carefully

“Who’s daddy’s good girl?”

Blue shot him look that expressed how little she thought of him, done with his craziness and protesting of her less than regal treatment

“Yes, I know. You don’t care, you just want your wet food and the blanket turned back on. It’s such a hard life”

Stooping to let Blue down, she gave him a look of disgust before licking at her fur as if to erase his pats. Picking up his wine glass again, he took another sip, feeling the way the blood coated his mouth as it slid down easily

“Well, that’s done. They’re in the bathroom now, doing whatever. I still can’t believe you volunteered my house”

Pidge shrugged

“I know if it was Matt who was stuck, I’d want someone good to help him out. I promise to pay for anything that gets damaged”

“Damn, girl. How much they pay you for that tour?”

Pidge shrugged again. They both knew she wouldn’t be paying, if she tried Lance wouldn’t let her

“Enough”

Matt was a bit of a tricky topic. He was a firm believer in all things paranormal and supernatural. For all her enthusiasm and research, Matt dwarfed Pidge’s knowledge by a long shot. Apparently when Pidge was younger Matt had got himself in a bit of jam chasing ghosts, since whatever had happened, he’d left to track things all across the world. Pidge missed him fiercely, and was left constantly cranky with her brother at his lack of regular updates

“Speaking of Matt, have you heard from him lately”

Lance was glad Hunk was the one asking, he’d stripped Pidge bare of all her defences, keeping her secrets at the same time as keeping her grounded

“Not for something like 3 months now. Dad said he was in Italy the last time he checked in with him. Mum worries herself sick when she doesn’t hear from him”

“Pidge, if he’s anything like you, then he’s fine. You Holt’s are a touch bunch”

Pidge sighed, Lance sympathising over how hard it could be not to hear from your siblings. There was nothing like the love and hate that came with having a sibling. Half the time you want to murder them in their sleep, but god help anyone else who messed with them. His whole family had changed after he’d been turned, they’d aged while he remained the same. Now he was getting depressed.

Sliding off the counter, Pidge threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug

“I just... really miss him”

“I know you do. I’m sure he misses you, but he’s like you and once he’s off chasing something time looses all meaning”

“Yeah. I mean, I know he is, but sometimes it really...”

“Fucking sucks”

Pidge nodded as Lance finished her sentence for her. She was just a baby, while he was an old man of 44

“Have you messaged him lately?”

“Everyday”

That had to hurt even worse. 120 plus messages left on read

“Until he comes back, you’ll have to be happy with the two of us”

“I mean... if I reeeeeeally have to”

Hunk turned from the oven, enveloping both of them in a bear hug

“Group hug!”

Pidge laughed, faking an attempt at squirming her way out. Hunk laughing too as he lifted them both off their feet for a moment. Lance’s poor wineglass barely surviving the ordeal

“You two are stuck with me”

“Yep. We sure are. And we’re the luckiest people alive”

Well, Pidge was alive. His undead arse sure wasn’t getting any closer to living

“Okay, that’s enough, losers. I’m gonna go set the tapes up. Hopefully we’ll see something good”

“Or not. Not seeing anything is good too. Lance, go make sure she doesn’t edit the video in some way... I’m going to have nightmares tonight as it is”

“I’ve got you, bud. Come on, Gremlin. Let’s go set up your videos”

Lance had nearly let himself forget there were two strangers in his house. He couldn’t actually forget, but he was trying his damn hardest as he let Pidge’s techno-babble wash over him. He’d never met Matt in person, but Pidge’s missing him was bringing up how much he missed his own siblings. Mami would let him know how they’re doing, keeping him in the family loop. It had to be Papi’s funeral when he’s last seen them all. Lance lying through his teeth that he was named after his father, Lance, to pass off his young looks. He missed his papi. His papi had worked hard all his life, a farmer through and through, with every analogy somehow farm related. Especially when it came to his tractor, that was the man’s default go to when explaining anything, or attempting to have a father and son chat. He missed him something fierce, like he missed his siblings. None of them had invited him to his papi’s wake, Lance felt like he shouldn’t even be at the service, but his Mami gripped his hand and kept him close the whole time. She was the only one who wasn’t afraid of him. Lance hated them all for leaving him, but he loved them all because when they were kids things were so much less complicated. Late night bonfires, hunting on the farm, surfing, dancing in the rain. Huge family Christmas’s where it felt like everyone in town showed up. Kids in and out the the house, not like Christmases now days where he’d spend time with his Mami in the morning, taking her to church for mass then out for a drive, blow off his friends, binge bad rom-coms come evening and cook a feast up for Blue.

Smacked in the face with a flying TV remote Lance was forced back out of his self loathing shell. He had a good life, and even better friends. There was nothing wrong with the way he lived, and he had a sense pride in the work he did. Not all cases went his way, but he his head on better than most as far he was concerned

“What the fuck?”

“That’s for tuning out when I was trying to talk to me”

“You hit me in the face”

“Good. I was aiming for you chest, if that help”

Lance rose a finger to poke at his eyebrow where the remote had hit, there didn’t seem to be any blood, so he supposed he could let Pidge off

“You have my undivided attention. What did I miss?”

“I was saying it’s good to go, whenever Hunk gets here”

“You know he’s really going to have nightmares tonight”

“Then he can crawl into bed with you”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Uh, hello. I’m a girl, and Shay’s a girl”

Lance rolled his eyes

“Really? I hadn’t noticed”

“I’m just saying, don’t wanna make things complicated”

“There’s nothing going on between you two. It’s fine, you’ve shared a bed before”

“But not when Hunk was this close to finally getting a girlfriend”

Pidge held her fingers together, rather than the normal tiny gap

“Fine, but he sleeps in your room and you sleep with the light on”

“What are we? Twelve?”

“Awww, did little Pidge sleep with the light on all the way up to 12?”

“Oh, fuck you. You’re only like 2 years older than me. I bet you kept your night light on until you last night”

Pidge’s face said she was thinking over her words, knowing that something didn’t quite sit right in what she’d said, but if he was to point that out, he’d be hit for having the nerve

“Yep. I’m completely hopeless. Who knows what lurks in the dark. What if the monster under my bed attacked my feet because they hung over? What would I do then?”

“You’re such an arsehole”

“Hey, Blue has a stage where my toes were her mortal enemy”

“I’m going to tell Blue you’re going around telling everyone she’s a monster”

“By definition, all cats are arseholes. She knows she’s the cutest little monster that’s too tiny to take me down”

“Dude, she’s got you wrapped around her little finger?”

“Oh, so Lance has a girlfriend?”

Caught up in Pidge, Lance hadn’t heard Shiro approaching. He damp near jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice

“No, this loser is unlucky in love, like the rest of us”

“Ah...”

Shiro sounded confused, Lance embarrassed

“We’re talking about my cat. She’s a pint sized monster. She’s probably going to be cranky all night because I didn’t give her more wet food”

“Ah, I see now...”

The silence that fell was awkward as fuck... Right. He had to be a good host

“We’re going to watch what Pidge filmed tonight, if you’re up to it. Hunk’s cookies should be done soon...”

“Oh, I was thinking Keith and I might just head to bed. You know, get out of your hair”

“Dude, you have to try Hunk’s cookies. They’re like a gift from god”

Shiro gave a nervous laugh, not everyone got Pidge’s humour, or brashness

“When you put it like that, how can I say no?”

Pidge clapped her hands

“Excellent. Now, the most important thing of all, do you believe in ghosts?”

“I can’t really say one way or another. I do have a friend that’s into that sort of thing”

“Then the next time you talk to them, you’re going to sound like a total expert. Sit down and buckle up, it’s time for an adventure into what lies beyond”

Pidge waved her fingers as her voice adopted a spooky tone for the “what lies beyond” part. Poor Shiro was coping Pidge totally nerding out. At least if she managed to scare him away, Lance wouldn’t have to worry about crossing paths with him, or his brother, ever again. Ugh. Being nice was exhausting.

[amyscascadingtabs]

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 6. i’ll be your arms, i’ll be your steady satellite

read on ao3

read earlier chapters

The Santiago Siblings with families spend a weekend together, Amy’s feeling weird, and Jake’s getting suspicious.

september.

Amy throws out the ovulation tests first. Then, most of the pregnancy tests.

She keeps a few, in case of emergencies, but she hides them so far inside their bathroom cabinet, buried underneath boxes of band-aids and disinfectant wipes, she tells herself it’s the same thing.

 She also throws out the vitamin supplements and the gross herbal teas, and puts the cherished pages of the fertility binder through her paper shredder while Jake shakes his head at her.

“You’re being crazy,” he states when she empties the paper confetti in the trash, immediately tying the bag shut and placing it by the door.

“Nope,” she responds. “I’m finally being sane.”

She stops doing yoga, not that she got into a habit with it in the first place. She goes back to her usual diet and coffee habits. She deletes every fertility-related bookmark off of her computer and unfollows all the Instagram accounts she once tried to find support in. There’s a smidge of panic and hard-hitting grief the first few times she sees a pregnant person somewhere, a harsh pain that comes with knowing for certain she’ll never experience it again, but most of all, Amy feels free. As heartrending as the knowledge is, she’d take it over uncertainty any day of the week.

 Her days of the week are moving quickly, too. It's like the moment she stopped being consumed by this, the rest of her life caught up with her, and now it’s speeding past. Leah starts her first Tiny Tots preschool class, and her parents cry for a good ten minutes after dropping her off the first time because their baby is growing up and it’s all moving too fast. They start doing proper research on allergy-friendly cats and even schedule a visit at a cattery. Work speeds up and she has to work overtime for more days in a row than she's done since having a kid, making her fear their apartment will fall into pieces and her daughter forget who she is, but she comes home each night to dinner on the table and Leah in pajamas begging her to read a bedtime story. She makes sure to thoroughly thank her husband, especially the night when there’s a takeout box with potato pancakes waiting for her, and promises him a proper reward once the weekend rolls around.

“Cool, cool,” he mumbles half-asleep as he makes himself the little spoon in bed. “Also, while we’re on the topic, those potato pancakes definitely weren’t because Leah and I had ice cream for dinner. In case you were thinking that.”

“Jake.”

“Mm. Goodnight, babe.”

 Even without the fertility treatments, her free time between work and family life remains strictly limited, but she does manage to squeeze in something much needed. Every other Thursday night at eight o’clock sharp, Amy finds herself outside the door to Rosa’s apartment, and every night Rosa cuts right to the chase.

“You’re not pregnant?”

“Nope.”

“Not taking any fertility medication?”

“Stopped them all.”

“Take a shot, Santiago.”

She’s decided not to tell more people about her experiences, doesn’t see the point when all she wants is to forget, but every other Thursday night, she vents. Rosa lets her speak, sometimes offering commentary but mostly just nodding, and Amy’s pleasantly surprised to discover it helps.

She’s not alone, and most importantly, she’s going to be okay again.

 ~

 october.

As the end of October arrives, it becomes time for the weekend with all the Santiago siblings and their families renting a cabin upstate. Tony calls it a tradition even though it's the first time they're doing it, but when Amy points this out, he simply shrugs and says it's important to have goals in life.

At first, she's skeptical about it - spending four days in a cabin with fifteen adults, thirteen kids and one dog feels like a polar opposite to the relaxed family time she craves - but it's been forever since she saw them all and she supposes she could use some time away from Brooklyn’s buzzing city life, so they decide to go. She nearly regrets it after three hours in the car with the Frozen-soundtrack on repeat, but then they reach their destination, and all is forgiven when Leah runs to hug all her cousins.

 Friday morning, they arrange a big leaf fight in the yard. At first, it's kids against adults, but as more and more children drop out, it becomes Santiago siblings against partners, and as more and more adults drop out too, eventually it's just Amy and Julian against Jake. The fight lasts until Jake starts complaining about there being leaves in his ear. At that point, Amy's laughing so hard her stomach hurts.

“Loser does all the dishes after lunch,” Julian grins, and Jake looks like he's about to cry.

Amy checks in on him after ten minutes. His shirt is wet from the soapy water and she can see the terror in his eyes as he looks to the mountain of dirty plates, glasses, and cutlery, but he’s scrubbing hard at them one by one with furious determination.

“Need any help, babe?” She sneaks her arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to his neck and pulling out a small twig that’s still stuck in the back of his hair.

“Desperately,” he groans, wiping his hands on his jeans and facing her. “But I have to prove my strength to your brothers.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure Julian just wanted a reason to see you in a wet t-shirt.”

“He could have just asked.”

Amy laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help you out.”

He squints. “Are you sure? You look kind of... tired.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Not like that,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But you look a little - I don’t know - pale? Did you not have coffee this morning?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t finish it. Creamer tasted weird.” He opens his mouth to say something, but she shuts him up with a glare. “I’m fine. Come on, I’ll help you finish these.”

 -

 They manage to get done right on time for a family walk in the woods. Leah makes it about a quarter of a mile before she starts complaining, so Jake carries her on his shoulders, which results in immediate chaos and tears from David’s twins when they demand the same and David can’t carry them both. Amy helps her brother by carrying Samuel on her shoulders, but the kid must have dog hair on his clothes from playing with Julian's dog, because her nose gets stuffy after only a minute. If it weren’t for the animal being straight-up adorable, or for Leah's excitement when Julian asks her if she wants to hold Oscar’s leash for a minute, Amy swears she would be yelling at this dog, too.

 The stuffy nose lasts for the entire afternoon, and she curses the fact that she forgot her allergy nasal sprays at home. Luckily, she’s surrounded by plenty of good distractions, and the afternoon disappears in a jumble of trying to keep different children from hurting themselves or others while also trying to make sure they’re happy, and if she’s not watching any kids, she’s trying to keep up with what feels like a billion different conversations going on at the same time. It’s enough to make anyone exhausted. She tries to have another cup of coffee, black this time to avoid the probably-bad creamer, but she only gets down a few sips before her throat goes all dry and she has to breathe real hard for the nausea to pass. She pours out the rest in the kitchen sink.

 Despite her tiredness and stuffy nose and sudden coffee aversion, Amy has a lovely day. When afternoon becomes evening, everyone who isn’t cooking dinner makes their way down to the nearby lake to watch the sunset. Leah’s in Jake’s arms with her head on his shoulder, looking all cozy in her purple fluffy hoodie as she sings the lyrics to Moana in the wrong order, and Amy can’t fight the urge to kiss her sweet little face until Leah grimaces and says stop, mama, hiding her face in Jake’s shirt as he laughs.

They’re her favorite sight in the world - the love of her life, and the child who’s held Amy’s whole heart in her hands since the first time she waved to them on an ultrasound screen over three years ago. Jake whispers something to Leah that Amy can’t hear, the girl giggles, and her heart aches with how much she loves them. She may never get the kids-plural family she pictured in her younger days, but she gets this, and it’s better than anything she could have imagined.

 -

When all the kids have gone to bed - save for seven-month-old Charlie, who’s wide awake and happy to get passed around between different pairs of arms - the adults gather in the living room for a chance at uninterrupted conversation and a glass of wine. Amy finds space in the corner of a couch, with Jake on her left and Tony’s wife Clara in an armchair on her right, and gratefully accepts the glass of red wine Lucas gives her. She takes a sip, first enjoying the taste, but the second sip tastes off and the third is awful. She tries to hide her grimace as she puts it down on the side table and asks for a glass of water instead.

 She's not really listening to the conversation, zoning out and just enjoying the comfort of Jake's arm around her shoulders, but Clara nudging her arm gets her attention.

“Do you want to hold Charlie for a while, Amy?”

“I’d love to,” she says, and the next second there's a baby in her arms who's shooting her the brightest of toothless smiles and reaching for her necklace. Charlie’s chubby fingers try to grab the L and J-pendants, so she gently separates his hands from them and he starts playing with a sling of her hair instead.

“Oh, you're strong,” she laughs as he grips it. “Wow.”

“Tell me about it,” Clara laughs. “Sometimes he’s lucky he’s cute.”

Amy smiles. The baby is already snuggling his head into her chest, making himself comfortable. He's truly adorable with round cheeks and light-ginger hair, melting her heart as he grips onto her shirt.

She's missed this. Still, it’s less painful now that she knows - she might never have more babies of her own, but she’ll always have plenty of nephews and nieces to hold, cuddle and play with.

“You're adorable,” she whispers to Charlie with a kiss to his forehead. “Yes, you are.”

“Hey, Amy?” David catches her attention from the opposite couch. “Aren't you guys going to have more kids?”

She can feel Jake freeze next to her.

“We’ve thought of it,” she says calmly. “But we landed on one kid. We’re happy with that.”

Jake squeezes her shoulder.

“Really? Huh.” David nods in surprise. “Don’t you want more kids, Jake?”

“It's not my decision to make,” he shrugs, like it was an obvious fact. “I'm just hoping we can get a cat soon.”

 Charlie falls asleep in Amy's arms, staying there even as people begin to drop out and head to bed. She gives him back to Tony when it’s time for a diaper change, closing her eyes and leaning against Jake's chest once her arms are free again.

“You okay, Ames?”

“Yeah,” she promises. “Just sleepy.”

“You didn't drink anything,” he notes, nodding to her untouched glass.

“Did you try the wine?” He nods. “I hated it. I think Julian has crappy taste in alcohol.”

Jake shrugs. “It tasted fine to me. Maybe your taste buds are being weird.”

“Or I have better taste than you.” She kisses him on the cheek. “Let's go to bed, babe.”

 -

 She’s barely closed her eyes before Leah climbs into their bed, full of energy as she makes space between her parents.

“I wanna go outside and play,” she insists, and when this doesn’t garner enough of a response, she frowns. “It’s morning!”

Amy reluctantly opens her eyes to reach for her phone, reading the time. “Half-past seven.” Weird. They went to bed at one a.m. and Leah’s slept through the night, yet it feels like she was woken up after ten minutes.

“Hey, I have an idea,” says Jake, pulling his daughter close and tickling her neck. “How about we play in here for a while? I have a great idea for something.”

“What?”

“Well, you see, bumblebee, you’re a super brave space pirate. This bed is your spaceship, and mama and I are your innocent, weak humans that you’ve captured.” He yawns. “The rules are that we have to lay still. If we move, we’ll fall out into space and, uh, die.”

“Okay! Dada, still!”

“I love this game,” Amy mumbles, pulling the covers closer around herself.

 The spaceship game lasts a full ten minutes before Leah tires, deciding that her parents are too boring captives for her taste and starting a new game that circles around her trying to jump from the bed onto her mattress in increasingly creative and less-than-safe ways. Jake defuses the situation before she tries to do a backflip, suggesting that they get out of bed and see if any other cousins are up yet, and Amy tries to open her eyes again. It’s painful - her body screams for more sleep, and she channels this into the pleading look she gives Jake.

“Can I get another half hour? I feel like I’m going to collapse if I get up now.”

“Huh.” A line appears between his brows. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah,” she yawns. “I just need thirty minutes, like I said.”

“Okay, I’ll wake you up when there’s breakfast - Lee, wait!”

He disappears out the door chasing after their daughter, and Amy sighs in relief as she lets her eyes fall closed again.

It still feels like no time has passed before Jake comes to tell her the thirty minutes are up, but she forces herself to get out of bed anyway. They have a long day ahead of them, and Amy’s not risking getting teased by her brothers for wanting to sleep in. Instead, she throws on a hoodie to hide the fact that she’s freezing, and pours herself a big cup of coffee at the breakfast table. She manages four sips before it threatens to come back up again. Luckily, one-year-old Milo chooses that exact moment to almost choke on his piece of toast, and no one except for Jake seems to notice the gagging expression on her face as she tries to swallow everything back down.

 She must be getting the flu, or maybe she’s picked up some other bug from her daughter. She’s cold, a little dizzy, and the stuffy nose refuses to pass even though she keeps away from the dog. They go to play in the woods while the sun is still shining, and Amy’s enjoying herself as she watches Jake run with Leah in his arms towards a tree, touch her feet against the wood and yell Parkour! only to make the girl lose it with laughter every time, but she’s so tired when they get home, she’s barely sat down in an armchair before she’s nodded off again.

 “Hey, Ames.” Jake’s firm hand on her shoulder makes her return to consciousness. His mouth is set in a hard line, and there’s a seriousness to the way he watches her that reminds her of the way he gets whenever she’s really sick, all worried and overly protective like he thinks she’ll instantly drop to the floor if he’s not right there. “Can we talk in private?.”

She nods, following him back to their bedroom where he closes the door. He sits down cross-legged on Leah's mattress, and she takes her chance to lay down on the bed, propping her head up with two pillows. “Okay. What’s up?”

He gives her a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure you’re just tired?”

“I mean, I feel a little off, I’m sort of dizzy and my allergies are annoying.” She sniffles. “Probably coming down with some bug. Why?”

“Your immune system is way better than mine, though. I’m always the first one to get sick after Leah and I’m fine. I don’t even think she’s been ill in weeks. Isn’t it weird that you’re the only one feeling sick?”

Amy shrugs. “Exception that proves the rule?”

“Yeah, or you’re not sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ames,” he says in a low voice, his tone slightly hesitant. “You don’t think there’s a chance you might be - I don’t know, pregnant?”

“Come on. How would that have happened?”

“Uh -”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, but I think we established my body didn’t want it to happen for us again.”

“Maybe, but face the facts. You’re exhausted, your taste buds are funny, and you were like, seconds away from throwing up your coffee this morning. You’re cold, you’re dizzy…” He counts on his fingers as he lists the symptoms. “It sounds a lot to me like before we found out you were pregnant with Leah?”

“Or it sounds like it's been a couple of intense months, my body's fighting an infection and I’m getting ill once I'm relaxing.”

“Have you gotten your period this month?”

She glares at him. “Stop.”

“Well, have you?”

She sighs and pulls out her phone from her pocket, opening it to her period tracker. Current Cycle - day 33. “It's a few days late.”

Jake’s eyes go wide.

“No.” She shakes her head before he can say anything. “Nope. That doesn't mean anything. My cycle got screwed up after the treatments and they said it could take months to return to normal.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No. Seriously. We both know I’m not pregnant.”

He squints. “We do?”

“Yes. And I can’t let myself think about it, Jake, because if I do…” She bites her lip at the crystal-clear memories of ovulation strips, shots and negative pregnancy tests, of feeling betrayed by her own body time and time again. “I’ll start to go crazy. I just got away from that obsessive headspace. I can’t go there again, I can’t have another negative staring me in the face, I just… can’t.”

He nods slowly, gaze still full of worry as he sits down next to her. “Okay. I just thought I’d ask.” His hands rub soft circles on her neck to ease the tension there, his lips brushing against hers for a few seconds. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” She sighs. “God, I need another nap.”

“I’ll make an excuse for you,” he says, and she swears she’s never been more in love with him in her entire life.

 -

 Jake doesn’t bring it up again, and Amy’s grateful. It's not that she doesn't wish for his suspicions to be true - her falling pregnant naturally would be a miracle - but she can't let herself think about it, let alone hope. She spent a year hoping and it led nowhere. This isn't the first time she's imagined symptoms that turned out to be nothing. If she lets herself have hope another time, only to be faced by cruel disappointment, she's certain she's going to shatter.

The weather changes from gorgeous sunshine to heavy rainfall, effectively locking every present Santiago family member inside of the cabin and creating yet more chaos. Luis and Christian organize a game night for the kids, first consisting of child-friendly memory-games and puzzles, but as more and more kids go to bed, eventually the adults drag out Monopoly and get drunk. They also get insanely competitive. When Simon starts threatening Tony about having him do another challenge for his YouTube channel, and Tony threatens to wrestle Simon right there on the floor, the game is quickly changed to Cards Against Humanity which soon becomes a dangerous game of Never Have I Ever. Amy opts for alcohol-free wine, and it’s probably lucky, because her brothers are ruthless. Never have I ever had a catastrophic double date - drink. Never have I ever made out with someone at work - drink. Never have I ever accidentally startled a man with a genetic heart condition, resulting in his immediate death - drink, remind Julian he’s an asshole, and come up with a good revenge question. She’s relieved they go to bed before anyone can suggest a game of truth or dare.

 The next day, she's feeling much better, and manages almost half a cup of coffee without nausea. She must've been right about it being some kind of infection, she thinks, pleased that it seems to be passing.

The weather isn't improving, so she teams up with a few of her brothers and their families to go to a nearby, kid-friendly, museum while Jake, Julian, and Simon visit a sneaker outlet. Leah finds an activity station and plays there for nearly fifteen minutes with her cousins before breaking down in tears when someone takes a crayon from her, and after it’s been another ten minutes of crying, Amy eventually chalks the child’s sudden fury down to low blood sugar. She ruffles through her bag for a snack and finds an unopened bag of dried mango, and two slices later, Leah is back to normal. Amy also finds an unopened tampon package, giving her a nudging reminder that her period’s still nowhere to be seen, but she shakes away the thought. Had this been a couple of months ago, she would've been rushing to take a test, and she gives herself a mental pat on the back for acting so calm about it now. She knows this means nothing and she's not stressing out. There’s this tingling, cramping, feeling low in her stomach anyway, aching for a moment before immediately fading. Surely that must mean her period is coming.

 They go to bed early on their last night away, ready for the drive home the next day. Leah wakes up crying about a nightmare, so Amy ends up sleeping next to her in their bed with Leah's little legs curled against Amy's stomach and her hand gripping her wrist. As far as sleeping positions go, she could think of far more comfortable or ergonomic ones, but there's no denying the coziness of it. Leah snuggles her nose into the crook of Amy's neck, and Amy falls asleep just smelling her head, and if she’d ever been asked to describe the word peaceful with one situation, she would have chosen this.

 -

 At first, she thinks she's dreaming about a real past event. She's back in the bedroom of their apartment, with Jake sleeping on her right and Leah asleep in her room, but Amy's awake. She can't tell why, isn't fully aware of the narrative here, but she can tell that dream-Amy has an instinct. Something is causing her to get out of bed, walk towards their bathroom and grab a pregnancy test - one of the cheap paper strip ones - from a visible spot in the bathroom cabinet. Something is making her take it. Dream-Amy watches the test, sitting perched on the toilet and staring intently at the first line, and after what feels like the blink of an eye inside of her dream-reality, a second, faint but clear, line shows up.

Even though it's a dream, the explosive happiness is every bit as real as if she'd been awake. She takes the paper strip, wrapping it in a bit of toilet paper, and is about to go ask dream-Jake if he can see it too when she’s pulled out of the dream and back to reality.

“What the hell,” she mumbles as she opens her eyes. Jake and Leah are still sleeping, and it's every bit as dark outside as when they went to bed, but Amy's wide awake and officially weirded out. She's never been one for dream analysis or seeing them as omens of any kind, but something about the realistic feeling has caught her attention, leaving her confused and wondering if there’s any truth to it. She tries to repeat to herself that there isn’t, she isn’t pregnant and should go back to sleep, but her mind is reeling. She tries to do some breathing exercises to force her mind and body back to a relaxed state, but it’s out of reach. The what if-narrative plays on repeat in her head, and eventually, she accepts that she’s going to need to at least outrule the possibility. She’s pretty sure there’s a spare test left somewhere in her bag.

Carefully, she frees herself from the three-year-old’s grip and climbs over Jake instead. He grunts and opens his eyes for a second, but closes them again in the next.

 Amy uses her phone’s flashlight to dig through the contents of her bag, finding her calendar, pencil case, notebooks, and a crossword magazine. Headphones, painkillers, an extra phone charger. More snack bars and packets of dried fruit. Wet wipes, tissues, hair ties, and some makeup. She moves on to the inner pocket, finding allergy medication, tampons, even an expired condom that seems to have nestled its way into the bottom of the bag and stayed there for years, but no spare pregnancy tests. She almost thinks she’s found one, but a closer look tells her it’s an ovulation indicator, and she groans with disappointment. She could have sworn she left one for emergencies, but suddenly it’s gone, and she could wait until tomorrow and buy one, but she wants - scratch that, she needs - to know now.

 “Ames? Are you looking for something?” Jake’s voice is raspy, a mix of surprise and pure confusion in his tone, and she hums vaguely without looking back at him.

“I thought I had something in here,” she says in a whisper. “But I can’t find it. It’s nothing, you can go back to sleep.”

“What’re you tryna find?”

She sighs. “I had a weird dream, okay? So I want to take a pregnancy test, because I just need to know it wasn't real so I can go to sleep. I thought I had one in here, but I don’t, so…”

He yawns, and then, in a movement far swifter than she would expect from someone barely-awake, he gets out of bed and walks over to the plastic bag he brought home from the sneaker outlet.

“Jake, I’m sorry, but I don’t care about your sneakers right now,” she wheezes. He shakes his head and brings out another, smaller CVS plastic bag.

“I know,” he says, “but you might care about this.” He throws her a familiar, pink-and-white carton, and she’s not even caught it before she knows exactly what it is.

“You bought a pregnancy test.”

He nods.

“What - when - why?”

“There was a CVS close to the outlet, I told Julian and Simon I needed to buy some Aspirin, ran in and got this. They didn’t see it,” he assures her, noticing the worry on her face. “I was smooth. And as for why - I know you said you didn’t want to hope, but I thought in case you changed your mind and wanted to know, well... “ He shrugs. “It would suck if you were stuck here with no way of finding out, even if it was just another day. I know how much you hate not knowing.”

She twists the carton in her hands. “I really do hate it.”

“So, are you…”

“I’m going to take it. Now.”

“Now - now?”

“Now.”

 There’s a beat of silence, and then they’re silently racing each other out the door.

 Amy’s so used to the steps at this point, she doesn’t even feel the anxiety kick in until she places the test on the sink and nods at Jake to start the timer. There’s barely space for them both to sit on the floor of the tiny bathroom, so they’re squeezed together, him stroking her hair and holding her hand as she focuses on keeping her breathing steady.

It doesn't matter what it shows, she tries to tell herself without success. It’s just to check.

And yet, there's this odd sense of hope in her heart she doesn't recognize from the last months.

 “How did you guess?” She asks Jake, and he wrinkles his forehead, so she clarifies. “You remembered all the symptoms.”

“Oh.” He blushes. “This is going to sound bad, but… do you remember before we found out you were pregnant with Lee? There was like a week before you took a test, where you kept complaining about how it felt like you were getting the flu, or some kind of infection, because you were feeling off.” He draws quotation marks with his fingers. “You kept repeating that. And I was so proud of myself, because I'm always the first one of us two to get sick, but I was feeling fine. I thought I’d finally get to brag, and I was so excited, but then we found out you weren't sick.”

“Just pregnant.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Which, of course, was so much better. Except I never got to brag. It's haunted me since then. So this time, when you said you were feeling off and like you were getting sick… I remembered, and I made a guess. Also, I’ve read the list in your binder. But honestly, it was mostly the first thing.”

Amy laughs, genuine and hearty despite her nervosity. “You're ridiculous.”

He puts his arm around her shoulders. “And yet you keep wanting to have kids with me.”

“It’s like I must be in love with you or something.”

Her comment makes him snicker, and she thinks, not for the first time, that there could never be another person she'd want to do this with - no matter the results on that test.

 The timer rings. Jake turns it off.

“Do you want to check, or should I?”

“I don't think I can see another negative test,” she whispers, the fear making her heart beat out of her chest, and he nods and tells her to close her eyes. She hears him fumble for the test, and then he finds it, and there’s a moment’s silence that drives her crazy.

    “Ames?”

    “Yeah?”

    “What’d you say two lines meant, now again?”

    She opens her eyes, immediately snatching the test from his hands. “No way.”

    It’s faint, but there’s an obvious second line.

Amy just stares at it. She's worried it’ll disappear, like her mind’s playing tricks on her, but it stays.

“This is crazy.” Tears of happiness flood her eyes once she speaks. “This is - this is absolutely insane.”

“Told you so,” says Jake in an attempt of sounding smug, but she can tell he’s about to tear up, too.

“This is positive.”

“Sure is.”

“Oh my god.” She can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying, but she’s shaking, unable to believe her eyes as she looks from the test to Jake and back at the test. “Oh my god, you’re going to brag about this forever.”

He grins. “Consider the fact that I won’t to be a testament to how much I love you.”

She’s too overwhelmed to know what to say, so she just hugs him, smiling into his chest as he peppers kisses to the top of her head.

“Hey, Ames?”

“What?”

“We’re having another baby.”

She’s spent a year wishing for it, getting used to the thought in her desperation to get there, yet his words are impossible to take in. Another baby.

“Seems that way,” she whispers, and he laughs.

 There’s a second test in the carton, and Amy wants to take it right away, but Jake convinces her to save it for tomorrow so they can go back to bed before anyone notices they’ve been occupying this bathroom for a suspicious amount of time.

She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep, not when a thousand thoughts are running laps in her head and she’s so in shock she thinks she might still be dreaming, but then Jake’s hand sneaks under the hem of her t-shirt and rests low on her stomach to make sure they're warm, he mumbles, and she places her own hand over his and relaxes.

 ~

  november.

Logically, Amy knows she’s pregnant.

All of the tests, a new one every day even though Jake tells her she’s being crazy again, are coming back two dark lines and plus signs and bolded words Pregnant, and the expensive test with the week indicator which shows how long it’s been since ovulation changes from 1-2 to 2-3 and 3+ Weeks. The fertility clinic gives her a blood test, confirms it’s a healthy pregnancy and schedules an early ultrasound two weeks later, which feels like an eternity. Time is moving excruciatingly slow, even slower when the nausea fully kicks in and she wants to spend as much of the day as possible laying down. She’s secretly happy she’s feeling terrible because that means the hormone levels are rising, and Jake insists on high-fiving her after the first time she throws up, but it does make the days feel even longer when all she wants is for them to pass.

Emotionally, the knowledge is much more difficult to wrap her head around. She’s terrified, analyzing every minuscule shift in her body in fear of there being something wrong and checking for blood in her underwear several times a day. She’s short on distractions, because she’s exhausted and moving too much makes her feel sick, so she’s mostly stuck on the couch after work watching movies and cuddling with Leah. They're not telling her yet - they're not telling anyone, except Rosa who figured it out soon as Amy declined a tequila shot - and Amy feels like a shitty parent who doesn't have the energy to run around and properly play with her kid right now, but Leah seems to get that her mom’s not feeling well, because she's more than happy to read books together and watch iPad until Jake comes home and takes her to the park for a bit.

 She wants to be happy, and every time she adds another positive test to the growing collection, she is, but she’s also dreaming nightmares and waking up in cold sweats in fear that this will be taken away from them. It’s too good to be true, the kind of happy ending you read about but never experience, and she can’t for the life of her try to fathom that it’s real. In short, she’s so hormonal she cries at stubbing her toe in the doorway, so nauseous she has to force down the few things she can consider eating, feeling guilty over how little energy she has to give Leah and how much responsibility this puts on Jake, and she can’t even allow herself to trust that they are having another baby.

 “This isn’t forever,” Jake tells her on a particularly exhausting evening after she's cried in his arms and eaten three lemon popsicles because they're the only thing that tastes remotely good. When she's cried a little more, about her fear and bad conscience and the deep shame in not being able to feel happy about something she's dreamt of for a year, he tells her, “just three more days until the scan,” and that does help.

-

 Amy doesn’t want to exaggerate, but she’s pretty sure the hours between six a.m., when Leah wakes up, and nine a.m., when the ultrasound appointment is, are the longest three hours of her life. Mornings are enough of a struggle to get through with a stubborn three-year-old who’ll put up a fight about anything from clothes to breakfast to brushing her teeth if she’s in the wrong mood, and they’re not made any easier when Amy’s feeling like this, but it’s moving particularly slow today when nearly all of her focus is divided between worrying about the scan and trying to keep her breakfast down. In the end, Leah doesn’t brush her teeth this morning and she has a yogurt smoothie in the car, but they manage to drop her off in time and she gives them a long hug each, so Amy considers it a success.

 Unfortunately, it’s a temporary one. She’s so nervous she can’t think straight, can’t focus on the Taylor Swift-tunes playing in the car or reply when Jake asks if she’s excited. Her head is playing possible nightmare scenarios on a loop, of there not being anything there, of them not seeing a heartbeat, or something else that will leave them no choice but to terminate the pregnancy. Taylor Swift sings something about cloaks and daggers and bright mornings, and Amy tries to see if she can memorize the lyrics for a distraction. She doesn’t get far before they get stuck in a traffic jam, though, giving them no option but to drive a few feet at a time, accelerating and braking on repeat.

 She knows that Jake tries to drive as smoothly as possible. He’s a good driver. She doesn’t have a problem with his driving, but the constant starting and stopping, the inevitable jerking movements, is absolute hell for her morning slash all-day sickness and suddenly all her focus has shifted to trying not to throw up in a moving car.

“I’m really sorry, Ames,” says Jake after casting one glance at her pale complexion, and she doesn’t dare to move her head but she mumbles a ‘not your fault’ before she goes back to taking deep breaths.

 She makes it through the congestion, and the nausea’s easing as they drive the last stretch to the clinic, but then there’s a slight bump as they drive into the parking lot and the fight is lost. She stumbles out of the car in search of a trash can, but it’s too far away. Instead, she has to publicly humiliate herself by throwing up right there on the curb just as another couple is walking out of the clinic and giving her what she assumes are grossed-out looks. She feels Jake’s hands on her shoulders as she coughs up the last bit, grimacing at the foul taste.

“Everyone’s going to think I’m hungover,” she mutters as he leads her to a spot further away, urging her to sit down.

“Oh yeah. That’s definitely what they think about all the women who puke outside of fertility clinics.”

His comment makes her laugh, but the laughter makes her feel sick again, so she stops.

“You okay?” He asks, carefully scratching her neck with one hand as he digs in his messenger bag with the other. “I have water if you want to rinse your mouth, and I’m pretty sure I have gum somewhere.”

“I’ll take water,” she says, accepting the green kid-size bottle that was definitely originally Leah’s and taking a cautious sip. “Sorry about this.”

“You’re sorry?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Damn, queen of unnecessary apologies. It’s okay.”

“I feel like crap,” she groans, ignoring him. “Sorry for whining.” “Okay there, ridiculous. Stop apologizing. It’s not something you can control.”

“But I don’t want to whine about this,” it comes out of her before she can stop it. “I don’t want to be sad, or scared. We fought so damn hard to get here! It fucking sucked! And now - I guess we’re having a baby, but I don’t know how to believe that, and I have to deal with the fact that pregnancy sucks, too!” She shakes her head, instantly regretting the quick movement but continuing to speak anyway. “I just want to be happy, and grateful, and I am. But I’m terrified. I can’t trust that it’s really happening, that it won’t be taken away from us again, and on top of that I feel awful all the time. I just… thought it’d be different.”

 Jake looks a little taken aback by her sudden outburst, opening his mouth before closing it and watching her with that same worried look she’s seen way too much during the last weeks.

“It will be,” he promises once she stops talking. “You’ve done this before. You know it gets better. You get a baby out of it, which - there are worse deals.”

“Yeah. But it feels so far away. It doesn’t feel remotely real. I wanted us to be happy now, to relax and enjoy this, but it feels like everything sucks.”

“Isn’t that just life sometimes, though? It sucks, and then there are awesome parts, and then it sucks again, and then there’s more awesome stuff.” He grimaces, looking down at the curb before meeting her eyes. “I know you feel like crap. I know you’re scared. Honestly, so am I. But we’re about to see our baby for the first time,” he smiles, “and that’s at least one of the crazy awesome parts.”

She nods. “It is.”

“Yeah.” He reaches for her hand, squeezing it. “I just think that… there’s always going to be shitty things, right? Sure, this year was rough, and I wouldn’t want to do it again, but we also had a million amazing moments with Leah, and together, in-between the bad parts. When this baby comes,” he nods to her still-flat stomach, “we probably won’t be sleeping and everything will be nuts for a while before we figure it out, but we’re going to have two kids and it’s going to be the best.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to tell you something I heard from a very smart person once,” he grins, looking proud of himself. “Life is unpredictable, but as long as you’re with the right people, you can handle anything.”

“That person sounds smart. Did they also make a butt joke after that?”

“Sure did. Made me cry, and everything. But what I was actually trying to say was…” Jake blushes, and she can tell there’s a moment of emotional sincerity coming. “I’m with you. I know that. I also know that as long as I’m with you, all the bad stuff is survivable, and all the good stuff is a million times better. And I’d rather have hard days with you, and Lee, and I guess soon whoever this is,” he holds his hand to her stomach through her sweater, “than good days with anyone else.”

“Me too,” she snivels, having to wipe the tears on her shirt sleeve because of course, this is making her cry. “How’d you get so wise all of a sudden?”

“Married you,” he shrugs. “And had kids. Also, I got hella old.”

“You’re forty-two.”

“Exactly. Shh.”

Amy laughs, with tears in her eyes because he’s hitting that perfect spot between wisdom and humor that’s one of the many reasons she loves him so much, and the smile on his lips grows wider once he sees that he’s made her laugh.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, cupping his face with her hands.

“I know. Love you, too.” She kisses him, and he kisses her back for a second before immediately pulling away and scrunching his nose. “Okay, ew, no. Vomity breath. Gross.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to apologize,” she teases. “But I’ll take that gum too.”

“Let’s just go inside and look at our baby,” he says as he hands her the packet, and she doesn’t protest.

 There are some routine questions and another blood test, and then they’re ushered into the ultrasound room. She’s nearly holding her breath as she lays down, eyes glued to the screen and Jake’s hand squeezing hers so tight she thinks he might stop the blood flow if he squeezed any harder.

At first, she’s scared she was right and there’s nothing in there, because everything is blurry and she’s not sure what’s what, but then it clears slightly and the ultrasound technician points out a white blob the shape of a lima bean, and there are tears of relief running down her cheeks.

 The technician says and here’s the heartbeat, and Amy has to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying harder than she already is when a whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sounds through the room in quick little beats.

She could listen to that sound forever.

 They get printed sonogram pictures of their fetus, which is slightly over an inch and just looks like a white blob but is well and truly perfect according to their doctor, and then they’re advised to go home and celebrate. They both have to stop crying first, though, so they stand outside the clinic for another while, just hugging without needing to say anything else.

 “So,” Jake says when Amy’s finally found space to breathe again. “How do you want to celebrate?”

“Do you want to go to Target and look for another shirt that says Big Sister and some stupid cute tiny clothes?”

“Oh, you know I do.”

 They get a long-sleeved pink shirt for Leah, six pairs of baby socks with animals on them and tiny pajamas with rainbow stripes, and then they buy alcohol-free champagne.

 ~

[dedicatedfollower467]

DIRK’S PESTERQUEST ROUTE REACTIONS AS THEY HAPPEN

spoilers etc. yada yada yada i’ve been waiting for this for fucking EVER.

this is fucking massive, for the record.

“The one and only” lmao suuuuuuure whatever you say dirk.

i fucking adore his metal scuba suit though holy SHIT

“[talking in meatspace] isn’t exactly my forte” akdfsljkadsfhksadf you bet your ASS it isn’t mr. strider. (at this point i’m assuming this is actually hal, wouldn’t be the first time that we met “dirk” and it turned out to be hal)

the power of his own “voice” is almost too much for him MY CHILD.

OH HELLO HAL. GOOD TO SEE YOU USING YOUR USUAL RED. LOVE THE THEME MUSIC CHANGE TOO. IT’S GOOD MUSIC.

i fucking KNEW it i fucking knew that was hal lmao

so in that case HI DIRK HELLO MY ASSHOLE BABY CHILD.

“The use of the speaker system is new, but it makes sense he’d up his game for interfering with relationships I’m busy forging in 3D. I guess I should go ahead and be proud of him for it.” god i really wish dirk and hal could get along but they both hate themselves and therefore each other way too much for that...

“Every line of muscle in his body is held in excruciating placidity. You’ve never seen a jaw so purposefully unclenched” dIRK!!!!

“you’ll prove it to him with your deeds. it seems like that might be his love language” BOY FUCKING HOWDY IS IT. also how did i never put that together before ofc dirk’s love language is acts of service practically everything he does is an attempt to serve his friends in some capacity and he’s SO BAD at telling them with words.

(his secondary love language is gifts, evidence: brobot and detective pony)

god i’m so excited and so nervous lmao

i love this sprite with the verrrrrry slight smile he looks so sweet.

hell yes the fucking ROCKET BOARD.

“this is a much more comfortable thing for him than the conversation was” I’LL FUCKING BET IT IS.

“with Dirk it’s almost like he’d be less penetrable without [his shades]” oh well now THAT’S an interesting thought/observation.

holy shit that’s a cute fucking smile holy shit holy shit look at that grin AHHHH I’M DYING MY BOY IS SMILING.

“Not sure how well my deep, personal beef with the imagery of the sea will land for you, but there it is.” WELL THAT CERTAINLY MAKES THAT ONE LINE FROM HOMESTUCK 2 A LOT MORE EMOTIONAL, WHICH IT ALREADY DEFINITELY FUCKING WAS.

“Ace Attorney monologue” OMFG HAS DIRK PLAYED AA??? WHO’S HIS FAVORITE CHARACTER? WHAT’S HIS FAVORITE GAME?? i mean he’s definitely got the hair to be a fucking ace attorney character especially in pesterquest lmao

OH MY FUCKING GOD IS HE HOLDING BACK A LAUGH. IS THAT WHAT THAT MOUTH IS. HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I LOVE HIM. I LOVE THIS ALKJADSFLADHADS

“He’s leaning forward, laughing, dimples carved into his freckled cheeks. There’s a small twist in your heart about it, and you can’t place why.” A *SMALL* TWIST? A SMALL TWIST? TRY A TWIST THAT’S WRENCHING MY HEART WIDE FUCKING OPEN AND SPILLING ITS CONTENTS ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE.

“At least make me try and earn it first.” THAT’S THE MOST DIRK THING I’VE EVER HEARD AND ALSO FUCKING HEARTBREAKING WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

“I can just fold [my hand] and hope your shit works out instead.” Ah yes, dirk’s incessant and almost pathological need to be in control at work again.

“I want to be the only one in charge of endangering my own life. You got me.” oh dirk. oh honey.

“How much has this boy wanted to be known?” oh okay yeah that’s fine i didn’t need my heart anyway pesterquest, you can have it.

oh. hi ultimate dirk. i fucking knew this was gonna fucking happen.

“i can’t believe i was ever this pathetic” LEAVE HIM ALONE. (but also i know you can’t because you fucking hate yourself and it’s fucking tragic)

OH. OH OKAY WE’RE NOT JUST GONNA BE FUCKING NARRATIVE WE’RE GONNA BRING THE ACTUAL FUCKING DUDE HERE.

AND WE’RE GONNA PLAY AN OMINOUS-ASS VERSION OF "BEATDOWN” HOLY SHIT. CHRIST CAN WE GET ANY MORE HEAVY HANDED HERE????

also holy shitting christ ultimate dirk is swole. ‘twink ass bitch’ my ass, he’s at least a twunk.

“You fuck off and let people live their arcs.” NO FUCKING WAY, NOT IF HIS IS GOING TO END UP AS YOU, DICKHEAD.

“Oh fuck.

You remember it.

You remember Homestuck.”

well, probably not all of it, it’s pretty goddamn long, and very hard to remember all the details. i should know, i’m currently re-reading it.

oh no.

oh no, this looks like regular dirk but ominous “beatdown” is playing which makes me very fucking nervous.

“You cared about him before you knew every tiny fucked up detail about his life, and now, with a reminder of where his story leads leaning smugly against the railing, you find you still do.” YOU BET YOUR FUCKING ASS I DO!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

“He’s intense and pushy and profoundly complicated, and right now he is helping you to your feet, his hand steady and firm on your back as you find your balance.” I’M CRYING.

“This isn’t as simple as an evil Dirk and a good one. If you’ve learned anything from your travels it’s that everyone has the capacity for hurt inside them, and everyone the capacity for love.” I’M STILL CRYING.

“The combo of all splinters of Dirk, fermenting in his flesh container and not holding onto his shit nearly as well as he likes to pretend” an apt and succinct description of ultimate dirk.

“No, I can see it. If anyone was going to pull off an “I’m you, but stronger,” it would be all of me, combined.” DIRK I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

“Your allegiance is not to the story, but to the people within it.” A-FUCKING-MEN MSPAR!!!

“The ends always justifies the means, Dirk.” I feel like that’s the breaking point there. IDK what’s going to happen next but that line sure was a line about philosophy, aka one of Dirk’s biggest special interests.

“[Ultimate Dirk] doesn’t have to work overtime to create more pain just so he can feel like he’s in control of how much punishment he gets and how badly he deserves it!”

oh.

oh wow.

oh WOW that’s hitting it on the fucking nose, MSPAR.

“He’s going to drown in [longing and loathing and Ultimate Dirk] if you don’t do something” STOP COMING BACK TO THAT GODDAMN LINE PESTERQUEST YOU’RE FUCKING KILLING ME HERE.

“You know how he loves -- though it’s fierce (to a definite fault), he does not do it easily.” STOP MURDERING MY HEART WITH PERFECT SNAPSHOTS OF DIRK AS A PERSON EVERY TWO SECONDS MSPAR I CAN’T HANDLE IT.

AHHHHHHHH IT’S DAVE!!! IT’S FUCKING. CANDY DAVE. I JUST. I CANNOT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOLY SHIT!!!! HOLY SHIT!!!!

“you look like someone ironed the mayor so that’s a million more points in your favor” DAAAAAAVE!!!!

“Dave pulls him into a short, back-thumping bro hug which Dirk weathers like a wet cat not trusting a towel to dry him off.” AAAAAHHHHHHHH I’M FUCKING DYING I’M DYING I’M DYING HELP I’M DYING GOD HELP HOLY SHIT, FIRST OF ALL, THE SPRITE/ILLUSTRATION, SECOND OF ALL, THAT DESCRIPTION OF DIRK, THIRD OF ALL I’M FUCKING DYING

CANDY DAVE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

you deserve so much better than the raw hand the candy epilogue dealt you jfc.

“Bringing fucking guns to a knife fight here.” I mean, did you really expect MSPAR to play fair when the health and happiness of all their best friends is at stake, UD?

SAD ENDING IS SAD.

“Be good to that me, will you? Treat him right?”

dirk, this is yourself. you’ve never treated yourself right. ever. tbqh you probably never will. ultimate dirk is absolutely no different.

(but also this makes me wonder if we’re gonna see “Trust yourself” timeline Pesterquest Dirk showing up in Homestuck 2? That would be fucking wild I’d love to see that.)

“are we anti-ocean here”

“Oh yeah, extremely.”

YES, WE FUCKING ARE, AND AGAIN WITH THE REFERENCES TO HOMESTUCK 2 JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

oh, of fucking course ultimate dirk’s a sore loser, he’s ultimate dirk, fucking duh.

“You did it. You got him a good end.” i fucking love that this game is literally just. explicitly saying exactly what i was freaking over and desperately wanted.

like i’m just gonna take a moment here to admit that i was really nervous that dirk would end up like candy timeline dirk and just off himself. i was really afraid that a good end just straight up wasn’t possible.

i love that it’s not. and i equally love that the game acknowledges that a FUCKTON of us really wanted to give him that.

“Maybe [Doc Scratch] and Ultimate Dirk were working together the whole time.” maybe doc scratch has been ultimate dirk this whole time. or vice versa.

“There are just so many details to remember” lmao i made that point like a dozen paragraphs up.

i.... do not recognize the text style of whoever just say “hey. we can talk about this.”

IT’S HUSSIE. HOLY SHIT. IT’S DEFINITELY 100% HUSSIE.

i....... don’t know who that is? the woman?

is this like. the person who’s been running pesterquest?

it totally is.

i don’t know who that is i don’t know enough about the homestuck machine to know who that actually is.

lmao ultimate dirk and the irl director are fighting over how incredibly self-indulgent this metanarrative is, which is fucking amazing. i kind of love this? i really kind of adore this.

i can’t help but notice that the director has blank white eyes.

i.e. the Author is already dead, yo.

“They’re just an artifact of the medium” HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS FANTASTIC. I AM HAVING SO MUCH FUN HERE.

“I’d say thanks but I feel like you all got more out of it than me” I’M DYING I LOVE THIS HOLY FUCKING SHIT THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY.

“Stop flirting with my audience you anime ass motherfucker” LMAOOOOOOOO

“I wouldn’t look like this if you didn’t want me to” I KNOW I’M JUST QUOTING BASICALLY THIS WHOLE THING BUT LISTEN I LOVE IT, I FUCKING LOVE IT, IT’S FUCKING PERFECT, GOD. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THIS IS SO GOOD.

“I actually let the artists have a lot of creative license” somebody’s horny for ultimate dirk.

eridan DESERVES that gender arc and i’m excited for him.

“Happy people don’t get stories told about them.” I’m sorry, I’ve read enough Domestic Fluff fanfic to tell you that’s just blatantly not true, Ultimate Dirk.

wait.

wait wait wait wait.

pesterquest is a RETCON???????????

THAT was not something i was expecting

you click “don’t” betray your friends and pesterquest just fucking closes like this is fucking undertale jesus fucking christ.

but....

i don’t wanna betray my friends.

but i wanna see what happens....

god dammit this is exactly like the murder run of undertale, i don’t wanna do it but i have to know.

“Andrew Hussie would never do this to me” yeah well, Andrew Hussie barely ever interacted with you soooooo...

and if i throw the beta in the sewer again pesterquest quits. again.

i mean, i knew it would but... *sigh*

that’s a fucking depressing ass ending.

... except that “Savior of the Waking World” still hasn’t been unlocked...

Huh.

I’m... gonna see what happens if I start John’s route over again.

oh duh, of course it’s a retcon, MSPAR touched the Homestuck juju. i forgot about that.

(a big part of me wants to look up the process of getting the true ending. but a bigger part of me wants to figure it out for myself.)

hmmm. okay so replaying john’s ending once didn’t do it.

i guess i coooooould try replaying the whole thing? that sounds. like a lot of effort.

or i could try not betraying my friends approximately five million times let’s see what happens if i do that.

i’m going to do that experimenting in another post cuz this is already huge. see ya in part two.

[hitchell-mope]

Just put on the movie

And there we go. The dedication is there.

Oh god the rapping.

My palms will be bloody by the time this is over.

But I like the parallels to the first movie

To much auto tune

There goes my heart Disney.

Oh lord that’s high

Bbys. Smee twins

WHY WASNT DIZZY THERE FROM FILM TWO

There’s my child Celia

MY BOY!!!!

I mean Mal has a point.

He thinks it through

I love him so fucking much

Loving Doug’s hair

Rat bastard. Rat bitch. Rat fairy (Adam belle Verna)

Fuck off leah chad Audrey

😍😍😍😍. This version is better then d1

SUCK IT PASTEL COW

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Oh Evie love. Just tell him you love him

FUCK OFF YOU GERIATRIC BITCH

YES WE WOULD PREFER MAL TO YOU YA BITCH

I hate you Adam and belle

Ben and the other three are adorable family

Still hating Audrey. So. Fucking. Much

Love the purple limo

WHY IS TREMAINE NICE. IT MAKES NO SENSE

Bal parent vibes are strong

They shoulda painted the limo roof purple

Dying of cuteness

Proud fiancé Mal. Love it

Fuck off leah

Here’s papa hades. And the ham.

DRAGON MAL. WHOO HOO

Ah well. Nice while it lasted

NOT HER JOB PASTEL COW

So. Much. Ham.

Poor girl. Ouch.

🤮🤮🤮🤮. I still hate her and her geriatric bitch of a grandmother

Oh bitch please. First words out of your mouth were creel. And it ain’t abated

I’m supposed to be sorry for this sad act? I don’t think so

So. Much. Rapping

Oh. SPARE ME WOMAN

Still theft. Throw her on the isle with her grandmother

Lonely and friendless. Because Mal is so much better then you ya limp noodle

Gotta be bad on the back

YOU DESERVE A SLAP AROUND THE FACE YOU SPOILED BRAT

Seriously though. The actual singing is better then the rapping. So gotta give satah her dues

Fuck off grown ups.

YOU PUT THEN THERE IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACD

Blue bitch. Just like always belle

Ok. People. You can see it’s hurting bal to do this. KILL THE BEAST

DONT CRY BABY BOY. PLEASE. LAST TIME ALMOST KILLED ME

Murder. The fucking. Parents

Evie. Evie’s sensible. Listen to your sister Mal.

And here comes the guilt. Like always. The narrative blames Mal

That darn cake

Ah. Pain. Hug them now

And jump scare

Oh god. Shut up Audrey. You’re a sore loser

Eh. The prosthesis look ok

Audrey. Nutter. Ben was more then ready to start the honeymoon when Mal was a dragon. Do you really think a hag would stop him?

😂😂😂😂

Oh boy

That’s a lie and you know it bluey.

At least the bikes have an explanation

Why the red for Evie though

And the mutt speaks

Fuck off Chad. I hate you so much

This bitch again

So shrieky.

Kiss ass

Real original

Jump Jane jump!

So many neck cricks

No one tells him anything

Cella’s right Mal

Overly long gag. But cute

Awww 🥰🥰🥰🥰. At least he’s a good dad

Nice reference

And the fear mongering begins.

And here’s the cryptid. He shoulda died in it’s going down

Psycho bitch pirate whore

Cella’s a troll and I love it

The vehicle needs an oil change

At least he’s sleeping. Though that position can not be comfortable

At long last the reveal.

He’s funny. And hot. (I can see where @mochacake2016 is coming from)

We know! We know

And here’s the music

😂😂😂😂.

He’s got a point

Ok.

THERES NO PHONES ON THE ISLAND QUEEN MAL

She actually sounds like jade west here

So far. Besides the proposal. This is my favourite song. Mostly for Hades great looks. Great voice

And the tambourine

Would be better with purple and blue fire effects. But no. We can’t have nice things. They spent the budget on pirate whores make up

She’s got a point. They both do

LISTEN TO HIM

Proud papa

C’mon girl. Cry

Of course she told her sister

He’s a good king.

T-shirt should be ripped.

🤮🤮🤮🤮. Hate her so much

And. Here. We. Go.

Benny. I love you. But did you not hear what she said to Evie when you first met the vks. Of course not. You were lost in Mal’s eyes.

Oh god. PLEASE SOMEBODY GO AND MELT HER

Whore man is probably skunk drunk. Gil’s cute as ever though

Throw hook in the water. And keep it there.

🎶she’s back🎶

And there screwed

He makes feel physically sick

Uma. I love ya. But honestly. Mal owes no one anything. It’s not her job.

No it ain’t

Jay’s got a point

Oh honey

Hook. In the words of the irreverent Captain Jack Sparrow “if the bikes be crashed properly. You be crashed along with it”. Not you Gil. I like you

Mother hen strikes again. Uma ain’t buying what she’s selling

Pure child Celia. (I don’t use this very much but) Gil’s babey (it feels wrong to type£

Chicken arms. No brains. No wit. No dance skills. No rapping skills. Ya basically a walking corpse hook

The dogs giving me a nervous twitch.

I hate the pair of them so no. No sympathy for prince douche bag

Gil makes me cry so simply

Stab the pirate jay. Please. For all of us

Psycho bitch

I want. It. Dead. Brutally. Dead

And more music. If this weren’t Disney they coulda melted them yo pukes of goo and pour it down Harry’s throat.

Oh god

So she can’t count either. Just like her brother

Definitely cha cha slide.

Deep sigh

So much ham.

Here’s a funny idea. How about instead of a bloody pantomime. ACTUALLY FUCKING FIGHT YOU FECKERS

Synchronised armour dancing. That’s new

Oh for fuck sake

Ha ha. Save it for the sob story bitch

What’s next a kick line

Thank god I was wrong.

Hook should be suffocated under the armour right now. Put us out of our misery

Care bear alert

I had to have a flu jab today. And it weren’t as painful as every single nanosecond hooks on screen

Love the platonic affection (I hate the very concept of malvie. What did you expect?)

Mother alert

Don’t eat wild fruit honey

So cute. But so dumb

Oh. Phineas and Ferb reference

Awww babies.

Don’t you dare tell me Mal doesn’t care.

THEY FOUND DOUG

Uma’s so done with care bear bs

More singing. Yay(!)

Please. Remind me again exactly why this is a DCOM. Cause it honestly does not feel like it what with the backstory pirate whores entire existence and the choreography

How has evie not broken a leg in this number.

Believe me Mal and Uma. I feel your frustration they go together like peanut butter and chocolate spread. (Perfectly if you didn’t know)

Where is she going?

She knows how R&J ended right? Double suicide. Why the romanticism huh?

HE IS NOT A RAG DOLL! Though props to Zachary for not corpsing

How can you hate Doug. He’s adorable. Best straight couple ever

There’s ma boy. Rip Harry’s throyatvout plwae.

Ben’s always been hot. But this is definitely working for me.

Awww. Carlos helping his papa

Wet Ben. Yum

Awww. Janelos cuteness.

Love the beard. So good. 🤤🤤🤤🤤

Someone murder the man whore before I do.

He makes me wanna throw up. And I’m not physically capable of doing that

@rpsocsandcanonohmy. I get where you’re coming from. But I also get where Ben is coming from. Sunbeam did get him abducted. And man slut tried to feed him to sharks. So I do understand both points. Doesn’t mean you’re wrong though

JUST. EXPLAIN. HIS MIND IS BEAST ADDLED

Shoulda let Ben slash hooks throat jay. You’re slipping buddy

Mal’s eating crow

Hopefully he chad suffocates. Then she’s have done one thing that wasn’t completely worthlessly reprehensible

🎶feelings🎶

And it had to ruin it

Te-am work. As plankton says

Proud sister

Boys are back. (With dude and the mutt in tow)

YAAAAAAAAAY

I hate happy harry. But I do like happy Uma. Eh. Double edged sword

BAL THIRST. FINALLY

Shoulda gone with Janelos. Jarlos is from big time rush

Oh they’re so cute

Poor Doug.

DOUG AND GIL FRIENDSHIP.

So. Update. Might be like Mal. (Definitely loving Ben’s facial hair)

Yawning over chad. So pathetic

Her seat from him douchey mcuseless

Poor Janey

Cats outta the bag

Once again. I kinda understand all points. Yeah Mal shouldn’t have lied. But Uma didn’t really give her and choice. And Evie just kinda assumed. And no one really lets her explain anything.

Hooks still pathetic. Even hurt emotionally I still wanna punch his roger rabbit looking face (Sorry Roger)

Oh dear

Mal. Don’t apologise. You did what you felt you needed to do. And no gives you a chance to explain. Ever.

Yes. You needed to do what you could.

Excellent acting all around as usual

Evie. Look. I love you. Your favourite number seven. But WHY IS IT YOUR SISTERS JOB. WHY DOES EVERYONE MAKE IT MALS PROBLEM

Ha! Evie said it. She said family.

Oh fuck. Taken for granite

More singing.

Monster/story/invincible

I do want to stab Harry in the mouth with the hook

More flashback. Yay(.). Couldn’t they fill out the runtime

Flashbacks. TO THE START OF THE SO G THE FLASHBACK IS FROM. OH FOR FUCK SAKES

More dragon.

Audrey’s performance might make me a vegetarian

How is it not crushed by the claws?

Fire should be green

Yay. Auds dead. Please say yes?

The twins say literally one thing

From magical incantation to vaguely irritating verbal tick. Well alright then

Evie. Why do you sound so sad. It’s a good thing Audrey’s dying. The ultimate price and all that. You should be glad. It’s a good thing

Mal: he’s my father. Ben: shocked face. Me: makes a sound like a boiling kettle

Bye bye facial hair

Die slut

More eating crow

The in laws meet

Exactly hades. Exactly. Knee beast in the dick

God Ben’s so hot.

Bite Adam’s throat out please hades

Should’ve let Audrey waste away. And sent granny to Tartarus to meet her

OH SPARE ME YOUR BLEEDING HEART ROUTINE! I still hate you in a fundamental level

OH FINALLY YOU GERIATRIC BITCH

Nice little family moment

What the fuck is Evie’s dress?

Queen Mal has a very nice ring to it.

Sure you can. You owe them noting. You owe nobody anything

Jay has a pull back braid in his hair. Yay!

“Audrey would be gone”. You say it as though that’s a bad thing

“Insert woody woodpecker laugh”. Fuck you Adam

Compromise. Bring the vks over. And plop Adam Audrey chad anleah on the isle. Sink it into the ocean

Why didn’t Verna bring the barrier down. Oh yeah. Cause then she’d be useful

More singing

At least this takes place in daylight

I still hate harry

Push Harry in the drink please. IM LITERALLY BEGGING YOU

God I love Ben and Doug

Why the Charleston?

I still hate tremaine

Well. Jane. In ZM. You met Mal. She’s Carlos’s mother in this au

Giljay. It’s cute

So Harry makes me ill right upbto the end. Now he’s related to purple and blue

🎶a bitch is in the dog house🎶. And deservedly so

🤮🤮🤮🤮

Sweet little king

Oh boy

Whore has a turkey neck

This is the end. Good movie. With some unneeded bits. I’m gonna change a lot in ZM part three. And both dedications broke me.

[juniperhillpatient]

Could you write Richie introduces Beverly to comic books? Obviously a friendship thing

Thank you for the prompt ❤️❤️❤️ I’m sorry it’s so late. I spent forever editing it and then Tumblr reloaded & I had to re-edit. Save stuff on Microsoft Word always, I guess.

 Anyway, this was so fun to write. Richie & Bev’s friendship is so important. I based this off the book partially because I’m currently re-reading and that’s where my mindset is and partially because I wanted to reference this really cool fifties horror comic anthology I have, so this is set in the fifties like the book. It’s just a fun little one-shot though so I think if you’ve only watched the movies this will (hopefully) be just fine!

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy  ❤️❤️❤️

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“You cheated!”

“Did not.”

“Richie, come on, you distracted me by pointing to the window and stole one of my cards.” The two of them were sitting in Richie’s kitchen, a bowl of chopped melon and two cups of juice as well as an array of card games between them on the table.

“But I tawt I taw a putty cat!” Richie protested, waving his arms wildly. Then, in his normal voice. “Come on Bev, I wouldn’t cheat. I saw a cat out in the yard and because I am a good friend who points out cute animals, I wanted you to see it too.” He paused and rolled his eyes with an air of over-the-top drama and spoke in his most sarcastic voice. “I’m sooo sorry for being a considerate friend, Beverly, truly, sooo sorry.”

Beverly couldn’t help but giggle, but she stood her ground all the same. “First of all, it’s wet and gross out there so if there was a cat it wouldn’t have been cute it would have looked like a rat. Second of all, Richie, I would’ve won if you hadn’t done that and we both know it.”

Beverly recognized a spark in Richie’s eye that told her yes, he had stolen the card and would admit to doing so but not until after some decent banter. It was a lazy sort of afternoon, and this was not the first time the two of them had fallen into amiable arguing. There was a light rain pattering against the window. Maggie Tozier was sitting in the living room reading a novel by Beverly Cleary & Went Tozier was away working at the dentist’s office. 

Beverly appreciated spending time at Richie’s, and her willingness to play along with his shtick was her way of thanking him for inviting her over. Neither of them would ever in a million years bring up the fact that he’d been staring at the yellowing bruise on her cheek the previous afternoon when the losers were playing in the barrens, or that he’d obviously overheard her confiding to Eddie, as the two of them sat quietly off to the side, that she didn’t want to go home. Richie thought privately that Beverly had told Eddie this because she thought Eddie might understand such a feeling. Richie, however, never would have shared such an insight with anyone.

“Why I never,” Richie said, taking on the voice and demeanor of an overtly proper British person. “How dare you accuse me of such blasphemy!”

“Beep beep Richie,” Bev said, rolling her eyes. “What is that voice even supposed to be?”

“It’s a British guy,” Richie said in dramatic outrage. “I know you know what a British accent sounds like, Bev. Come on, give me something!”

“A British accent is more like this, Richie. Listen,” she made her voice much higher and did her best impression of a British accent. “Jolly oh, jolly oh good sir, oh yes indeed.”

“That’s terrible!” Richie groaned, falling back in his seat dramatically and throwing his arm over his face in disgust. They spent the next twenty minutes or so arguing over what a British accent sounded like and doing horrible impressions. The notion of playing any more games, it seemed, was gone. Beverly hadn’t expected card playing to last long anyway. Any kind of activity that required lasting attention was unlikely to be of great success with Richie. Richie had suggested they go to the movies when he called her up in the morning, there was a good monster picture showing at the Aladdin, but neither of them had any money. So, instead, they were spending the afternoon at Richie’s, to which Beverly had no objection. The Toziers’ place felt the way a home should. She thought Richie knew that she felt that way, and that’s why he often invited her over on days like today when the other losers were busy (Bill with speech therapy, Mike with housework, Ben with summer reading) or didn’t want to come out in the rain (Stan and Eddie).

“Alright you two,” Mrs. Tozier, whom Beverly liked a lot, interrupted just as Richie was halfway through a stream of truly profane words in an embarrassingly bad British accent.

“Sorry, Mrs. Tozier,” Beverly said in a hurry.

“Yeah, sorry, Mom,” Richie said.

“That’s okay. Just keep it down a little, alright?”

“Sure, of course, Mom,” Richie said.

“And keep that trashy language out of your mouth,” Mrs. Tozier told her son. “Especially around a lady.”

Beverly, who had been squealing with laughter before Mrs. Tozier entered the room, felt her cheeks flush. Richie’s mom, she thought, got what being a mom was about. She always had snacks, though usually healthy ones due to her husband’s dental profession, and often said nothing when Beverly would stay over late into the night on days when the thought of going home made her too sick to handle and she just needed to listen to Richie talk about nothing and make stupid noises for hours.

“Come on, let’s do something else,” Beverly said, putting the cards away as Mrs. Tozier left the room.

“Yeah,” Richie said standing. “I’ll show you my new ‘Weird Love’ comic!”

“Your -what now?” Beverly asked, intrigued.

“My new Weird Love comic. It’s a great one. It’s all about this girl who’s in love with a man who acts in a circus as a clown. She really likes him, except she’s embarrassed because she’s dating a clown.”

“I’m sorry what? What the heck are ‘Weird Love’ comics anyway?” Beverly asked.

“Oh, you’re kidding me!” Richie cried. “You’ve never read a ‘Weird Love’ comic? They’re great. They’re horror comics but about romance. Like, people who fall in love with monsters.”

Beverly shivered. “Who would want to fall in love with a monster? Or a clown? Yuck.”

As Beverly followed Richie out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room, thoughts of another clown, a distinctly unlovable clown, clouded her mind. She shoved such thought way as she and Richie entered his room. On the floor were toy soldiers he and Mike had set up in lines facing each other in preparation for battle, a jigsaw puzzle he had been working on with Stan, and a Mad Libs story he and Bill had been filling in with increasingly dirty words.

“Check it out,” he told her, grabbing a comic with a clown and a pretty lady on the cover from his dresser and flopping onto his belly on his messy bed.

Beverly followed suit, laying on her belly next to him and looking over his shoulder at the comic.

Years later, Beverly would remember the comic book clown, who was called Ben, and his creepy makeup and how it had delighted her child’s mind. Sitting in a much nicer and fancier home than she could have dreamed of at twelve years old, Beverly Hanscom would put her feet up on the coffee looking across to where Richie sat, looking off into the distance, being much quieter than she was used to. As the sounds of Bill and Mike’s argument about who would win in a bike race despite both of them being too old, and, on that particular occasion too drunk, to participate in such a race, she would remember that rainy afternoon and ask Richie about it. She would ask him if he ever thought it was kind of amazing how much they loved those silly horror comics at the time, considering everything they had been going through. “Nah,” Richie would respond in a quiet voice. “We were kids. Kids aren’t as easy to rattle as adults.”

Adult Richie would be right. As the two children read the comic together, flipping the pages eagerly as they became acquainted with Janie, a respectable and pretty woman, and Ben the clown, they giggled and gasped in equal measure. Neither of them brought up the real clown, the one that was stalking their every move and taunting them with things they didn’t like to think about like the soft way Beverly’s dad would sometimes ask “are you still my little girl, Bevvie?” or the way that werewolf had been wearing a jacket with Richie’s name on it and maybe he was the monster and it was him and his bad and secret (dirty) feelings causing all this pain.

Instead, they read the comic and laughed and Beverly asked Richie if she could borrow it so she could read it again. 

“I don’t think so, I wanna show it to Eddie. He goes nuts over these things. Loves 'em more than I do. And he hasn’t seen this one yet.” He paused and rolled off the bed onto the floor. He dug under his bed for a moment and produced two more comics, also with 'Weird Love’ printed on the covers in weird, gooey looking letters. “Here though, you can borrow these. This one,” he tossed her a comic with a woman screaming in terror on the cover. “Is about a woman who’s going crazy, but the guy who loves her has no clue. And this one,” he tossed her a comic with a man standing in front of a group of serious-looking people, “is about a woman who falls for a commie.” He said 'commie’ like a dirty word, soft and reverent. Beverly giggled.

“Thanks, Richie!” she said with a grin.

“Well, you’re gonna have to let me know what you think of them,” he said. “I’ve already read those ones like a billion times.”

“You have no idea how much a billion is you dummy,” Beverly said.

Richie stuck his tongue out at her and she proceeded to whop him in the face with a pillow.

The rest of the afternoon the two of them watched television and argued over whether the girl in the comic, Janie, had been crazy for being in love with that clown or if maybe that circus clown had some odd charm about him after all.

Another thing Beverly would remember, years later as the losers sat together in Ben and Beverly’s house, visiting as they did every few months, would be how very happy they had been. Even with everything going on and their lives in danger, they’d laughed so much that afternoon. 

[extraneousdominomask]

Of Heists and Hustles - The Abridged Version

[Night in Zootopia. The Nope Diamond is travelling to The Museum, and all the cops are helping. All the cops except]

Judy: This sucks! I wanna help!

Nick: I am ambivalent.

[The Cooper Gang waits nearby, ready to steal it!]

Sly: I'm a thief!

Bentley: I'm a hacker.

Murray: I'M THE MURRAY

Sly: This sucks. I'm bored.

McHorn: Oh god! We're all getting beaten up by a giant shirtless cat!

Sly: Amazing!

[Sly meets Tai Lung. He is giant and shirtless.]

Sly: I have stolen the diamond!

[Tai Lung hits him very hard.]

Judy: Stop right there! You're under arrest!

[Tai Lung hits her very hard.]

Tai Lung: I will now kill you.

Sly: Not if I heroically intervene! It's my Establishing Character Moment! I do nice things but for selfish reasons maybe!

[Everybody fights. Nick throws the diamond. Judy throws herself after it. Both land in a river.]

Nick: I am anxious!

Tai Lung: I am leaving.

Judy : I am the world's greatest cop!!!! but also cold and wet

[It's still night. The same night and everything! Tai Lung is running across rooftops.]

Tai Lung: I am the best at running across rooftops!

Sly: Get on my level, amateur, you don't even know I'm following you.

Tai Lung: What?

Sly: Nothing.

Bentley: Sly, what's happening?!

Sly: A bad guy tried to steal the diamond and hurt a policewoman. I am following him because I hate him.

Bentley: Your libido will be the death of us all.

[It's The Museum. The curator of The Museum is Black Panther. Yes, really.]

Okonkwo: Thank you for saving the diamond. I hired Wolf O'Donnell to protect it, but he hasn't been written into the story yet. Would you like to come to my fancy party on Friday?

Nick: Heck yes!

Judy: As long as we don't die horribly before then, ha ha!

[Awkward silence.]

[It's a gross warehouse. There are hyenas.]

Shenzi: We're hyenas!

Banzai: Except now we're also bikers!

Tai Lung: Move aside. I hate you.

[A tiny nerd uses a telephone.]

Peridot: I'VE SPENT A LOT OF EFFORT ENSURING MY BOSS IS A SECRET!

Mastermind: Ironically, it is transparently obvious who I am.

Sly: I've just taken photos of all of you!

Tai Lung: What! I will now kill y-

[Murray hits him with a van.]

Murray: let's BOUNCE

 [It's the ZPD morning briefing! With your host, Chiiiiiiiief Bogo!]

Bogo: Let's get this over with. I have strict orders to distract from the fact this entire chapter is exposition by utilizing

Sly: snazzy scene transitions!

Bentley: ...why did you yell that?

Sly: Just run it, Hardison.

Bentley: This is Tai Lung. He punches. This is Peridot. She hacks. These are the hyenas. They're dumb, and, furthermore, stupid. Squeezing them might reveal the mastermind, who I have been unable to identify.

Sly: And what about

Judy: the oddly attractive raccoon, Chief?

Bogo: He's Sly Cooper. He and his friends steal things for fun, mostly from other criminals. But sometimes they don't, I guess. We have an Interpol agent coming to help us. That is all.

Nick: Wow, I wish all our briefings could be this short. That just leaves

Sly: Nick and Judy!

Bentley: Yes. Nick and Judy. They are friends who fight crime.

Sly: I will befriend them also. Get me a telephone.

Judy: I just got a text! Sly wants to meet us.

Nick: Guess we better investigate.

Judy: Sounds like a plan, my dearest friend who I love and share a house with!

Nick: So are we boning or what?

Judy : Unclear!

[Nick and Judy are in a park, reading a newspaper of wacky mayoral candidates.]

Nick: Look at all these wacky mayoral candidates! Like Toriel Undertale! And Scar!

Judy: "Scar" is a dumb name.

Nick: Yes.

Clawhauser: It's me, Clawhauser, over the radio! Bogo wants to see you, Nick!

Nick: Heck. Don't die, Judy.

Judy: Okay!

[Nick leaves. Sly enters.]

Sly: Wanna team up?

Judy: Only kinda!

Bogo: Come in, Wilde, and meet our Interpol liaison.

Nick: Great, some stuffed-shirt two-bit - ¡dios mío, zorra muy bonita!

Carmelita: Hello, I'm Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox. And I should hope you mean that to be translated literally, not colloquially.

Nick: You work for Interpol?! That completely invalidates my significance as a street-level officer in Furry New York.

Carmelita: True. But remember: Star Fox.

Nick: Star Fox?

Carmelita: Yes.

Bogo: Wilde, you've been chosen to work with Carmelita because you know the city like no-one else.

Carmelita: Pretty good justification for why I'd team up with a complete rookie, right?

Nick: If I don't have Judy helping me I might cry. Just a heads up.

Bogo: In a somewhat out-of-character move, I will grant Hopps freedom from usual department rules.

Carmelita: In a very out-of-character move, I am okay with this.

Nick: The important thing is that I got what I wanted.

Carmelita: Congratulations. Now if you'll excuse me, I should go get my ninety minutes of daily sleep.

Bogo: Wilde, for god's sake, learn some independence. Hopps could die at literally any moment, you ever think about that?

Nick: Yes!!!!! Constantly!!!!!!!!!! It consumes me from within!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bogo: Well, good. As long as you're aware.

Nick: Star Fox?!?!

Judy: Yes.

Sly: Go arrest the hyenas to find the mastermind.

Judy: Smart plan. But my partner isn't gonna like this.

 Nick: I don't like this!

Judy: Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease? Just once!

Nick: Fine. Just once. Oh, also, the Interpol inspector is a fox, and also also, Bogo is letting you help me help her. Secretly.

Judy: Wow! Wow to all of that!

Nick: Yeah. Now let's go to Ruby's bar.

[It's Ruby's bar.]

Ruby: I'm Ruby, from the show RWBY!

Blake: I'm quiet.

Finnick: And I'm here too.

Nick: oh god

Judy: Are you two not friends any more?

Finnick: It's genuinely unclear in canon if we ever were.

Murray : Time for THE MURRAY to make like a Cold War superpower and instigate a proxy conflict!

[He does. There are many kicks. The hyenas go to jail.]

Tai Lung: Heck.

Carmelita: So Nick and Judy think these hyenas are connected to the diamond heist?

Bogo: I'll be honest, Inspector, I just let them do whatever and they work things out eventually.

Banzai: You'll get nothing from me, copper!

Nick: [is Nick]

Banzai: here is every secret i've ever been told

Nick: So apparently the mastermind is Scar? That's ridiculous. Let's go bother him.

Peridot: HECK!!!!!!!!!!

Carmelita: Great work in there, Nick!

Nick: I was not a con artist!!

Carmelita: ...Cool! See you later.

[It's a slideshow.]

Bentley: Here's the slideshow for my new plan. We'll need three things: alarm schematics,

Sly: Right,

Bentley: an entire subway train,

Murray: NICE

Bentley: and an invitation we'll have to rob from an innocent old man.

Sly: Okay :)

Bentley: ...

Murray: ...That's... kinda evil, Bentl-

Bentley: Yes. It is.

 [It's Scar's house.]

Scar: Hello, I'm Scar.

Judy: Are you the bad guy?

Scar: No, I'm Scar.

Nick: How's Mufasa?

Scar: That's unimportant. I'm Scar.

Judy: Are you connected with these hyenas?

Scar: Oh , I'm so sorry, but I haven't "seen" them in years >;3

Judy: ...can we arrest him for making that face

Nick: That legislation hasn't been finalized yet, sorry.

[They leave.]

Nick: Scar basically admitted to everything, but in a way that gives us no evidence. We've got nothing right now, but I'm sure it's him.

Judy: But why? Why steal the diamond?

Nick: Well, everyone loves us for saving the day. If he manufactured a similar situation, he might actually get voted in as mayor.

Judy: A transparently evil fascist using misinformation to win an election? Come on, Nick. This is 2016.

Nick: goddammit judy

Clawhauser: It's time to read Tai Lung's Extended Backstory File!

Carmelita: And I am here as well.

Clawhauser: Oh gosh! He's mostly evil because his dad died! And he did the manslaughter! Mammalslaughter...?

Nick: Yep, it's true. Doing one crime will ruin your life forever. Gotta tick off the Social Commentary box for this to be a real Zootopia fanfiction...

Carmelita: I remain unsympathetic to him in light of this information. My role in this and all narratives is to stick stringently to the Lawful part of Lawful Good. Never trust criminals. No matter how handsome they are.

Nick: But this doesn't explain why Tai Lung is helping Scar become mayor.

Judy: The mayor's office can pardon crimes! Somehow! Even though that really only applies to stuff like parking tickets, not an international crime spree of theft and probably murder!

Nick: In fairness, Tai Lung mightn't know that, Scar just needs to convince him.

Judy: Let's go with that, yes.

[A smol cat stabs Banzai with an umbrella.]

Banzai : Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!! Kill Nick!

[Carmelita shoots him with her Huge Gun.]

Carmelita: Writhe, little man.

Nick: He went savage! But only a little bit...

Judy: What evil genius put this together?

Peridot : AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! LEGS... SHORT! HNFF

[The Cooper Gang steal a subway train.]

Murray: This is the BEST DAY EVER

[Tai Lung attacks.]

Murray: I change MY MIND

Sly: Go on without me, guys! I'll handle him alone! By which I mean I'm immediately calling Judy for help.

[There are many kicks.]

Judy: Wait! I know your tragic backstory!

Tai Lung: Then go make a gifset.

[His attempts to murder them do not abate. However, Sly and Judy save each other.]

Judy: Gosh, you're amazing!

Sly: No, you're amazing!

Judy: Gosh...

Sly: So are we boning or what?

Judy: Unclear!

Tai Lung: Enough of this vague romantic tension! You're boring me stiff!

[He bores into them until they are stiff.]

Murray: Oh my god Sly and Judy are dead wait, no, they're just sleeping.

Bentley: Yes. We're all terrified two protagonists will die halfway through the story.

Carmelita: Alright, losers, shut up and follow my lead. Time to demonstrate my full prowess as an officer.

Murray: Oh, wow! Are you gonna shoot him?

Carmelita: Murray, please. I'm an Inspector with Interpol. My tactical knowledge is a little more advanced than that.

Tai Lung: I'm going to drown these tiny fools! And there's nothing anyone can do to stop m-

[Carmelita proceeds to shoot Tai Lung in the face multiple times. It is very funny.]

Nick: I've found a way to weaponise his previously-established backstory!

Bentley: Thank god. We've justified that otherwise pointless detour.

Nick: Shut up and hack that telephone, Specs.

[The telephone rings.]

Murray: It's for you!

Tai Lung: Ahoy-hoy?

Nick: It's me! Your boss! Quit it.

Tai Lung: Pop quiz - what's my motivation?

Nick: Uh... you're doing these crimes to not be a criminal any more?

Tai Lung: Close enough. I will begrudgingly follow your suspiciously merciful orders.

Nick: We did it!

Bentley: Nice work. Say, does this look like a flash-bang to you?

Nick: Wh- OH GOD MY EYES

[Judy is propped up on many pillows.]

Nick: Okay, you didn't die this time, but that was pretty close.

Judy: Bring on Round Two!

Nick: I am genuinely begging you to take the day off. More for my sake than yours.

[It's Black Panther's office in The Museum.]

Wolf O'Donnell: And it's me! Wolf O'Donnell!

[Audience applause, cheers, howling.]

Okonkwo: Hello, my vaguely trusted employee. Can I help you?

Wolf: Yes. This job has much more master thieves than advertised. Pay me much more money.

Okonkwo: Your concerns are valid. However, I'm afraid I have no money to spare.

Wolf: ...well then! Forget I said anything. Not important ;)

[Peridot is watching cartoons illegally online - yes, specifically, that's what happened - when Tai Lung appears.]

Peridot: YYYYYYYYYYYYOU MESSED UP!

Tai Lung: Eh.

Peridot: I'M GONNA FIX IT!!!

Tai Lung: Off you go, then.

Peridot: NYEH

Sly: Always treat a lady to chocolates after she saves you from being drowned by a snow leopard.

Bentley: Terrible news! Murray's sick! He's come down with a serious case of Can't Be In The Plot Right Now!

Sly: Perfect! What a convenient excuse to invite Judy to fight slash commit crime with me!

Bentley: Sly, can we please talk about the underlying issues pushing you into this uncharacteristic behaviour?

Sly: No.

[Nick and Carmelita must do computer things.]

Carmelita: I like you, Nick. I'm gonna tell you a bit of my backstory - lord help me, I'll even banter with you.

Nick: Wow. Well, it's an honour being under you.

Carmelita: So are we boning or what?

Nick: Unclear!

[Judy has had the entire day off. She is ready to die.]

Judy: I am ready to make some terrible decisions!

[She receives a text from Sly.]

Sly: check out this hot selfie i took at an active crime scene

Judy: Wow! What an attractive terrible decision!

Sly: want to help me beat up a small nerd?

Judy: i'm there! [rabbit emoji] [raccoon emoji] [gun emoji] [computer emoji]

Peridot: CLODS! STEP INTO MY DEATHTRAP GAUNTLET AND DIE!

Sly: How about................... we don't do that?

Judy: yeah okay

Peridot: NO!!!

[Peridot locks them into an employee lounge, forcing them to Bond(tm).]

Sly: So basically I'm doing this for my dead dad.

Judy: Interesting. Isn't he dead, though?

Sly: Hmm, good point.

[Nick receives a text from Judy.]

Nick: uhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Carmelita: What's up, buttercup?

Nick: On one hand, I should probably keep this a secret. On the other, Please Help.

Sly: My arc is that I can't stop stealing.

Judy: Mine is that I'm probably going to h*cking die.

Sly: Haha wow!

Judy: Hey. Hey, Sly, guess what. I know your tragic backstory too. That's rough, buddy.

Sly: Thanks, Judy. I appreciate it. Y'know, you'd make a pretty good thief.

Judy: And you'd make a good cop!

Sly: Um, funny story,

Nick: You drafted a falsely amnesiac Sly Cooper into Interpol?! That's not a funny story at all! That's melancholic, and deeply concerning!

Carmelita: Look. In my defence... I wanted to bone him.

Nick: That's not-!

Peridot: CLODS! STEP INTO MY DEATHTRAP GAUNTLET AND DIE! PLEASE?!

Nick: Let's cut the power.

Peridot: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nick: I lied. I actually was a con-artist.

Carmelita: I know, Nick, I've seen the movie.

Sly: You should communicate more clearly with your partner.

Judy: Good suggestion, internationally wanted criminal. I'll get right on that, just as soon as-

[The power goes out and the doors open.]

Judy: Oh, cool, we can beat up that nerd!

Sly: Finally!

Peridot: THIS IS A BAD NIGHT FOR PERIDOT

Tai Lung: Ugh! I'm here to save you.

Nick: They're gone. But we can still arrest Sly - Judy, cuff him!

Judy: Um... no.

[It's breakfast time! Judy... actually, y'know what? I'm not gonna comedically abridge this part. Chapter 16 of this story came out very, very well, especially since I don't consider serious emotion one of my strengths. I might suggest you just go and read it if you're interested. It's the emotional culmination of the separate arcs for Nick, Judy, and Sly/Carmelita that build through the story, and I'm still very pleased with the results. Anyway. It's sad.]

[The Cooper Gang's sad too.]

Murray: I messed up!

Sly: Yeah. Me too.

Bentley: Oh, shut up, guys. You'll feel better when we successfully heist a diamond, I assume.

[Sad, sad, droopy ears.]

Judy: I am so depressed I am willingly performing traffic duty.

Clawhauser: I can't even cheer you up, and I'm Clawhauser!

Judy: She who is tired of Clawhauser is tired of life.

[At The Museum, Wolf is giving a helpful pep talk.]

Wolf: What do we want?

Wolves: Loads of money!

Wolf: How do we want it?

Wolves: From anyone!

Wolf : [tearing up] I'm so proud of you all.

[Nick and Carmelita try to find the Cooper Gang. All they find is a chocolate shop.]

Carmelita: This makes me feel angry!

Nick: I am dead inside. ...Moreso than usual.

[The bad guys are doing okay, really.]

Peridot: I'M VERY SORRY!

Mastermind: Sorta don't care. Is the Night Howler(tm) ready?

Tai Lung: We're using Night Howler on someone?

Mastermind: Oh, we're using it on someone alright >;3c

Tai Lung: how did you do that over the phone

[It's the fancy party! Wolf's manning the door.]

Wolf: I'm casually bullying a guy in a wheelchair! Just in case you weren't sure I was an antagonist.

Scar: Here is a bribe so I can carry skip the security check.

Wolf: I love my job.

Sly: Hiding in the rafters is making me feel a little better.

Tai Lung: Same.

Sly: Agh! What are you doing up here?!

Tai Lung: Right now? Just mocking you for having empathy. Loser.

Judy: Oh, hello, Carmelita. What's up?

Carmelita: This is a little late in the story, but: we have so much common ground. Don't repeat my mistakes. You have deeply impressed me in the threeish days I've known you, and I'm lucky to have met you.

Judy: W-wow. The feeling's more than mutual.

Carmelita: So are we boning or what?

Judy: Gosh, I hope so.

Nick: You enjoying the party, Scar?

Scar : Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmhhh >:3cccc

Nick: Soon, Nicholas. Soon.

Toriel: Excuse me, I seem to have misplaced my child. I'm a competent mother, I swear.

[Judy looks for Toriel's son, Asriel, but instead finds only a crime!]

Wolf: Gimme the diamond!

Okonkwo: What treachery is this?!

Wolf: I've received purely electronic communication from someone claiming to be the Cooper Gang, saying they'll pay me big money for this diamond.

Okonkwo: And you... trust that?

Wolf: Well, not any more. Clearly, Cooper is trying to fool me!

Okonkwo: Clearly.

[Wolf leaves with the diamond. Okonkwo obliterates a wolf with a single punch. He is, after all, Black Panther.]

Okonkwo: Officer Hopps, please help me evacuate the entire museum by claiming that a heretofore-unmentioned fireworks display is about to start, which is mandatory for all guests to attend, but will not actually materialise.

Judy: Wow! You are smart.

Okonkwo: Yes.

[Everyone leaves, miraculously.]

Tai Lung: Time for you to get poisoned by Night Howler!

[Tai Lung gets poisoned by Night Howler.]

Tai Lung: The - the shadowy figure who never so much as told me their name betrayed me?!

Sly: Oh, honey.

Asriel: Golly! I exist for only two things: bein' adorable and wanderin' heedlessly into deadly situations!

Sly: I've known this kid for only half a second but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.

[Something almost happens to him.]

Sly: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[He saves the good good boy. The Cooper Gang regroup-er gang.]

Wolf: You'll pay for this, Cooper!

Sly: who in god's name are you

[There are many punches. Nick, Judy and Carmelita show up.]

Nick: We haven't resolved our issues yet!

Judy: But that won't stop us from DOOR!

[DOOR!]

Sly: Is everyone okay?!

Judy: Yeah, but the three of us are stuck in here with Tai Lung!

Nick: And I'm stuck out here like a tiny orange idiot!

Murray: Don't worry, Jak & Daxter reference! Me and Bentley will try to open this door offscreen!

Bentley: Yes, now's as good a time as any to exit the narrative. Frankly we've been secondary characters for this entire outing.

[Bye, guys!]

Carmelita: I have a novel idea - let's beat up the bad guy, with violence.

Sly: I love you so much.

Nick: Don't worry Judy, you can do this! You're amazing!

Judy: Thanks, Nick. I genuinely needed to hear that. What about you?

Nick: I can do something else. Because I'm also, separately, amazing.

Sly: Hey, cool, People Are Good At Different Things! That's the moral of my whole franchise.

Nick: Here's one for you - Nick Wilde Is The Best. That's the moral of mine.

Judy: Go get 'em, tiger.

[They go get the snow leopard as Nick go gets the lion.]

Nick: Ladies and gentlemammals, I know who's behind this.

Toriel: Is it me?

Nick: Actually, no! It's Mufasa!

Scar: What?! No! I'm ten times the jewel thief Mufasa is! ...Which, um, is zero. Because ten times zero is still zero.

Nick: Let's discuss this somewhere quieter, where it would be hypothetically easier to stab a police officer to death.

Scar: Excellent. Yes.

Scar : Why yes, I am exactly the kind of person to own a cane-sword.

Nick: Contrary to appearances, I am perfectly competent at my job! You're under arrest!

Scar: Curses! But I still have Peridot.

Nick: You really don't. She's gonna abandon you the second my excellent partner stops Tai Lung.

Scar: Ah, but will she?!

[She does.]

Judy: Oh god, Sly is dying!

Carmelita: No! Not like this...

Sly: Oh. Wow. You're... actually really sad. I'm fine actually. It was a prank. Epic... fake internal bleeding to steal a diamond prank! Y'know, that old... um... SMOKEBOMB

Peridot: I WILL NOW MAKE LIKE A LAWN CHAIR AND FOLD.

Nick: Just as I predicted! Everything's done, we can go home.

Judy: But Nick, we need to resolve these emotional arcs!

Nick: uuuuuuuuuuuggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[The roof!]

Sly: I'm sad. I ruined everything.

Judy: No, Sly. Not doing crimes is good, actually.

Sly: Source?

Nick: We are definitely not boning.

Sly: More's the pity. Maybe next time.

Carmelita: We might still be, though. Despite everything.

Sly: Hooray! Let's smooch!

[They smooch. I've been publishing fanfics for over six years - well over 200,000 words in the last two years alone - and for so long this was the only kiss in any of my stories. And I wonder why my numbers are low.]

Sly: I'll start making the world a better place by robbing Scar utterly blind! Catch you all later!

Carmelita : No, Sly, we'll catch you.

[Everyone laughs. Sly flings himself from the rooftop.]

Nick: Hey, Carmelita, let's be penpals.

Carmelita: Sure. That sounds like a mildly diverting interquel. I'm gonna get hammered on champagne now, so I'll leave you kids to your Feels.

[She does. Nick and Judy make up and stuff. Whatever.]

[Night in Zootopia.]

Epilogue! The bad guys go to jail, Carmelita learns how to email, Wolf disappears, Finnick gets a job at The Museum because I guess his presence in this story needed to go somewhere, the Cooper Gang's failure means the diamond is safe, Sly has a protracted existential crisis he claims is just him "figuring stuff out", and Nick and Judy - surprise surprise - are still friends. But are they boning? To this day, it remains unclear.

(At this rate, probably not.)

Woah, that was so much faster!!! I wrote this whole thing in under a week. I'm just gonna stick to this format from now on... 

[grapefruitguan-blog]

When We Collide

TRIGGER WARNING: talk of suicide, panic attacks, and self harm.

“She’s so weird. What a freak.”

“Gosh, she thinks she’s so cool, but she’s actually a huge loser.”

Even if you wanted them to, the voices would never stop. It was whispers from your peers, your old friends, or anyone who didn’t want to be known as friends with the “Freak Girl.”

Therefore, to you, school was a living hell.

It wasn’t like you were physically bullied. You never encountered a day where you had your lunch stolen, hair pulled, and never found yourself cornered in an alleyway getting beat up. What you were going through was different.

The hallways that you used to walk with your head so high in are now the hallways you shuffled past. The friends you thought you always had were now the girls you couldn’t even look at in the eye anymore. Things change, and you were starting to accept that.

But, today was different. This was the first time anyone had ever called you out in class; and it was your ex-boyfriend, Ong Seongwoo.

“Y/N is a slut, Professor,” he laughed, “I mean, I would know.”

The whole class snickered as you looked down at your desk, trying not to cry.

“Aw, is the little slut sad?” he cooed, “Good. You should be.”

It wasn’t supposed to hurt, but it did.

A few hours later, you were sitting alone at lunch outside underneath the big oak tree, and sighed. It was quiet, and you were at the sitting by the gate to the school. Ripping out a piece of paper from your binder, you quickly scribbled all your feelings from earlier, letting it all escape into words.

“Days like these, I still wonder how I continue walking.

I don’t know what I did wrong. Was it because I didn’t want to have sex with Ong? Was it because that girl’s boyfriend liked me? Was it because they thought I was ugly?

I’m so tired of being hated. It’s making me want to die.

But, I can’t. I’m not weak. I can’t let them win whatever stupid game we’re playing.

They at least can’t win this time.”

You stared at your wrists, tracing over faded lines that represented every time you had given up, or given into what others said. It was a dark time for you, and in the hospital, you swore to yourself that you’d never let that happen anymore.

You were not weak. You would not lose.

As the bell rang, you crumpled up the paper, and shoved it into a chipmunk’s home. It stared at you curiously, and then scampered off. You walked to your next class.

Everyday after school, it was your routine to visit The Cuppa, a coffee shop after school. It was Daehwi’s shift today. You two had been best friends since you could ever remember.

You walked in to be welcomed by the familiar scent of coffee beans, jazz music, and dimmed lights. Smiling at the sight, you spotted a blonde boy over by the cashier area.

“Y/N!” Daehwi called, “Over here!”

You went up to the counter, greeted by the bubbly boy.

“Hey! How was school, Daehwi?”

“It was okay. I have some friends, but they’re nothing like you,” he frowned.

Daehwi went to the all-boys school that was near your house, and you wished he didn’t. He didn’t know anything about what was going on at your school, and you chose not to tell him so he didn’t worry.

“You know I wish I could secretly go to your school as a boy,” you laughed.

“I know,” he chuckled, “Anyways, what can I get for you today?”

“My usual. Can I get the green tea latte?”

“You bet.”

As you were digging through your pocket to find your wallet, a deep voice from behind suddenly spoke up.

“Hey Daehwi,  I’ll pay for her. Can you actually make that two lattes?”

Daehwi’s eyes widened, and nodded understandingly. “Sure, Daniel. That’ll be five dollars.”

You spun around to become face-to-face with a tall, chestnut-haired boy around your age. He had a pair of round glasses lying at the bridge of his nose, and you swore he looked like he came straight from a photoshoot. His broad shoulders were clad in a tan coat with his black turtleneck peeking out, paired with a pair of dark blue jeans.

God, he was ethereal.

You quickly stuttered, handing him your wrinkled dollar bills.

“H-hey, don’t worry about it! I have cash, you didn’t need to.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, waved it off.

“Don’t worry about it. Would it be too much to ask if you could maybe have the latte with me?”

Daehwi threw you a side look. Understanding what was going on, he dashed off to prepare your drinks.

You sat down with Daniel by the window, now with your two drinks in hand. You ended up learning a lot about him; his name was Kang Daniel. He was Daehwi’s classmate, held a liking towards art and cats, and often came to the shop as well. Daniel was an only child, and his dad died when he was younger. You both were the same age, seniors in high school, and still didn’t know where you wanted to go when you’re older.

“So, um,” you started, “Why did you decide to pay for me?”

He raised an eyebrow as he started to blow on his drink.

“Is it bad to do nice things for people?”

Embarrassed, you shook your head again, turning red. Daniel noticed this, and laughed.

“I’m kidding. I actually found this today from a little friend,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He fished out a paper you knew all too well.

It was the exact paper you wrote on at lunch.

“That damn chipmunk!” you exclaimed.

“Hey,” Daniel defended the animal, “Alvin is actually pretty cool. I’ve raised him for half a year now.”

“You did not just name a fucking chipmunk over a childhood movie.”

“I did. Your point?”

You groaned in frustration.

“Why do you even take care of him in a goddamn tree?”

“My mom hates pets. I found him there anyways.”

In your attempt to grab it from him, Daniel took the paper, dangling it out of your reach.

“Not so fast,” he hummed, “I wanted to talk to you first.”

“What are you doing with that?” you choked, “Please, just throw it away. Don’t send it to my school. Please don’t post it anywhere. If you want money, I’ll give you whatever I have. If you want your homework done, I’ll do it for you. Just please,” you begged, “throw it away.”

Daniel shook his head, sliding the paper towards you.

“That’s not why I paid for you. I don’t want to use you or anything.”

“Then what else do you want?”

“I want to help you.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Help me? What could you even help me with?”

He shrugged. “Clearly, you’ve had to feel miserable for a while to finally write how you’re feeling all down.”

Finishing the remains of his drink, he wiped off his foam mustache, and grinned.

“But, hey, maybe Alvin giving me this paper was fate.”

“Shut up with all that cheesy bullshit.”

As time passed, you and Daniel became close friends. You’d hang out with him everyday after school, playing with his cats, hanging out with Daehwi at the shop, or random adventures for no reason. You even bought Alvin a little house together, so that he didn’t have to stay in the tree anymore.

“Hey Y/N,” Daniel called you, “Can you open the door?”

“Why?” you had groaned, awakened by his phone call.

“I’m outside.”

“Daniel, it’s 1:00 AM.”

“Exactly. It’s the perfect time to go eat pancakes.”

You were starting to open up to Daniel, telling him all your problems and random thoughts. Every single time, he’d listen intently. You’d also listen to him, and his frustration with art, or his goal to become a singer someday. It was blissful.

“Y/N,” Daniel groaned, “I don’t understand chemistry. This sucks.” He slumped into his chair, frustrated with the concept. Looking up from your homework, you grabbed his worksheet.

“Here,” you laughed, “I’ll teach you. Daehwi said you’re having a test soon, right?”

His eyes lit up and his bunny smile was pinned to his face. “You’re the best.”

You still didn’t tell him about your situation at school, telling him that you just didn’t like talking about it. Daniel dropped it, not wanting to cross boundaries, but reminded you that he was always going to be there for you, no matter what.

He definitely proved that.

You found yourself rocking back and forth on your bathroom tiles, tears streaming down your face. A panic attack hit you as the storm continued to rage on, and it wasn’t helping your case at all. Usually, your mom could help you calm down, but she was away on a business trip. Shaking, you slowly grabbed your phone, dialing to call Daniel to help distract yourself.

“Hey,” you whispered into the phone, “How are you?”

“Hey!” he answered, but then hearing your shaky voice, concern soon laced in with his voice, “Wait, Y/N, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you managed.

“You don’t sound like it. I’m coming over, okay?” You heard footsteps and Daniel rummaging through something.

“You don’t have to, I’m fine, I promise,” you said.

“Y/N, you sound like you’re having a panic attack. I get them, too. Stay on the line with me, I’ll be there soon.”

Soon enough, you heard your bathroom door slowly open, and in walked Daniel. His hair was wet from the rain, out of breath from sprinting towards your house.

“Hey,” he breathed, “your door was unlocked. I locked it for you.” Kneeling down, he slowly sat down, rubbing circles on your back. A bolt of lightning flickered through your window, and you shrieked.

“Daniel, I can’t do this anymore,” you heaved, “I can’t keep feeling this way. I’m so weak.”

“Shhh,” he whispered, “you’re strong, Y/N. Hang in there, and slowly count down from ten. I’m right here with you.”

With his help, your attack slowly ceased, leaving you exhausted. Softly smiling, Daniel pulled out his backpack, throwing random things at you. The first, was one of his hoodies, followed by tons of snacks.

“What movie?” he asked, holding up three.

“Daniel,” you sighed, “You didn’t have to do this. I’m sorry for bugging you, you can go now if you need to.”

Daniel shook his head. “Y/N, I wanted to do this. I knew you hated lightning so I was actually about to call you when you called me. And besides,” he grinned, “Didn’t you say you were hungry earlier? I brought food.”

As the movie played, you found Daniel looking at you and not watching.

“Promise me something,” he said, holding up his pinky.

“What is it?”

“That if you ever go through an attack like that, to call me. Like I said, I’m always here for you.”

There was no doubt that you found him attractive, but you knew that he was out of your league, and you didn’t stand a chance. He was funny, smart, attractive and everything you ever dreamed of when it came to an ideal boyfriend. And you? You were a girl who barely talked to anyone at school, who never wore makeup, and would much rather sleep in than go to a party. Daniel was more fit for someone who was wild, or someone sexy; and that wasn’t you.

Daehwi always thought the opposite, urging you to confess to Daniel about how you feel.

“Y/N, you don’t see the way he looks at you! And, he won’t ever shut up about you at school,” Daehwi insisted, wiping the coffee mugs, “He obviously likes you a lot.”

“I still can’t believe you,” you sighed, “Daniel is..Daniel. I’m just me.”

Daehwi shook his head. “You’re so oblivious.”

That was two weeks ago.

Today after school, Daniel and you had been planning to hit the new vinyl store downtown, but you were interrupted.

“Hey, slut, where do you think you’re going?”

You turned to find yourself with Ong’s new girlfriend and her possy. You could see why Ong had picked her; she was gorgeous. With long legs and even longer hair, you knew she was Ong’s type.

“Hi,” you said, trying to walk past, “I’m kind of in a hurry. Can we talk later?”

You were yanked back as the girl grabbed your backpack, throwing you onto the floor.

“Little bitch,” the girl sneered, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Staying silent to not anger them, you got up from the ground, dusting off your pants. “What did you guys want?”

“How did you become friends with Kang Daniel?” she said, crossing her arms, “Your ugly self was seen with him two nights ago at The Cuppa.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “Yeah, we go every other day. Our friend works there.”

This seemed to anger the girls even more, who were now starting to kick you. You didn’t fight back, fully aware that if you did anything to defend yourself, they’d use it against you later. One by one, bruises and cuts appeared all over your body, and you clutched your now black eye.

“You disgusting brat!” Ong’s girlfriend yelled, “I better not see your slut self next to him ever again!”

“Try saying that one more time.”

You and the girls looked to see none other than Daniel standing behind you, and he was more than livid.

“D-Daniel!” a girl blushed, “What are you doing here?”

“Tzuyu,” he said, slowly, “What’s going on here?”

“Oh, nothing,” she giggled, “We’re all just having fun.”

“This doesn’t seem like fun to me.”

His voice was low, but menacing as he slowly walked in front of you, looming over all the girls, who seemed to wilt in fear.

“I gave you a chance to tell me the truth, because I saw what was going on and decided to approach the situation myself. If I see this happen again, I swear to God Ong Seongwoo and you will both pay for this.”

He gave a steely look to the other girls, who all nodded before running off in tears.

“D-Daniel, I don’t understand!” wailed Tzuyu, “Just what exactly do you see in that slut?”

Daniel whipped back around, his eyes now blazing.

“Y/N is not a slut. Y/N is not the girl who cheated on me with my best friend; that was you. Y/N is my girlfriend now. You had your chance when you had it, and I don’t want to ever see you hurting people who I care about ever again. Hurry up and leave.”

As she ran off, Daniel helped you get up, put his jacket over you, and asked softly.

“Is this what was going on at school that you didn’t want to tell me?”

You nodded.

“But why?”

“Daniel, I’m not trying to be weak. I don’t want you to see me like that.”

“I don’t see you like that,” he protested.

“Then, may I ask what the whole ‘girlfriend’ thing was about? Aren’t we just friends?”

“Well..that was what I was going to ask you to be today, but I think we need to get out of your school’s yard and to a hospital first.” His face was red as he grabbed your arm, in attempt to drag you away from your school.

That took you by surprise.

“Wait, forget the hospital thing,” you said, removing his arm, “since when did you like me?”

Daniel sighed. “Even before I met you.”

“What?”

“Y/N, do you remember a chubby kid named Kang Euigeon from elementary school?”

You did. Euigeon was a kid in your class who didn’t really have friends and was always made fun of for his weight. You gave him your sandwich one day, packing two, telling him he should be happy for who he is. You were pretty sure he moved after elementary school, but you never found out what happened to him.

“Yeah! He was in my class. Why, do you know what happened to him after he moved?”

“You’re speaking to him right now.”

“What?”

“Y/N, my real name is Kang Euigeon. I changed my name after my dad died. I didn’t actually move,” he laughed.

“We were only kids, but I was going through super rough times because of how I felt about myself, and back then, you saved me. It was my turn this time,” He smiled.

“Daniel, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you huffed, “How did I not recognize that you both had that bunny smile; weren’t we friends back then too?”

“Well, I figured you already knew, but Daehwi told me you didn’t. He also told me that you don’t believe that I like you too.”

He softly grabbed your arm, tracing over the faded lines like you once did.

“These are battle scars, Y/N, and I promise that I’ll make sure you never feel like this again.”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I’m not the most perfect girlfriend in the world. I don’t like parties, I have an extreme caffeine addiction, I’d rather go to an art exhibit than a concert, and I always feel like I’m bugging people. But, there’s one thing that I do know, and it’s that if I was to spend the rest of my life with someone, it has to be you.”

Embarrassed by your long speech, you looked down at the ground, but Daniel lifted your chin to meet his smiling face. His eyes crinkled and he grinned once again, before placing a quick kiss on your lips.

“It’s always been you.”

[first-interplanar-bank]

Kingdom Hearts III Pt. 1

So, I'm laying in bed trying to sleep. But I guess my brain decided I haven't whined about Kingdom Hearts III to enough people. This is my one and only warning, if you don't want to hear some random loser's thoughts on the game, now is a good time to leave.

Alright, let’s start at the beginning. I would just like to state for the record that my expectations going into this were low.

Opening Cutscene

I don’t have a whole lot to say about this. It’s more or less like every other Kingdom Hearts opening, except with far more Skrillex than I would ever care to have. In any situation. But especially in Kingdom Hearts.

1st World - Olympus

After the opening, you’re sent through the usual yada yada in the land of awakening, or whatever it’s actually called. I can never remember. Anyway, Now we join Sora and the squad right where Dream Drop Distance left us. Kind of a strange place to start, considering it establishes the precedent that this $60 standalone game now needs to recap a whole second game without being too heavy handed about it in order to be well written. But oh no! Sora has lost all his powers in a Nort related incident. Whatever shall he and the squad do? Good thing they saw Herc lose his powers back in Kingdom Hearts II. 

Off we go to Olympus!.... As we’re greeted by a pseudo-title card that says “Kingdom Hearts II.9″. The crew lands on Olympus proper and proceed to get mildly sassed by Hades, as per usual. So we learn that the world is more or less going to follow a plotline similar to the original Hercules Movie plotline, seems like a plan, since they hadn’t done that in the first two games, or the more than a baker’s dozen spinoff-sequels. So we run around Olympus, knowing Hades is up to something, but Sora needs to find Herc to learn the one weird trick that will give him his powers back. We save Thebes, climb Olympus, fight the rock titan, and at the end we find ourselves on top of Olympus! But Hades is already most of the way through his plot to best the Olympians. But if we can beat one titan, why not three more? Ice wind and lava are no match for Sora, Donald, Goofy, and Herc. After beating the titans into next week, Hades wouldn’t stand a chance, so we don't even fight him. He makes a great meta joke about this plot taking 18 years to come to fruition. I laughed, it’s funny. After all this, we learn that Herc got his powers back by following his heart. Cliché, but the series has made us grow to expect that from it. Acceptable.

Now we return to the Gummi ship. Oh, wait, did I mention that Maleficent and Pete also found their way to Olympus in search of a black box? I did not. Well, remember that, it’s going to be important. (it’s really not, I’m being super sarcastic. My medium betrays my intention) On to the next world!

World #2 - Toy Story

Hey look at us! We’re toys!!!! I actually really like the story and the hook that they present us with here; turns out most of the other toys, people, and everything in between have disappeared. Buzz and Woody, along with their pals have been waiting in Andy’s room for Andy to finally return to them. It takes Sora showing up to convince these guys to tag along to try and find out what happened. The adventure takes the toy crew to a nearby toy store, where the heartless follow. This leads to the only obvious conclusion, Mecha Fights! It’s awesome. So after Mecha fighting some heartless and rescuing the more defenseless friends of Woody and Buzz, you see the face of true terror.

That. The most terrifying thing I have ever seen. You defeat the heartless doll, but it will never be defeated in your nightmares. Turns out, Organization XIII is here on some business. Of course. So you go to confront Young Xehanort (AKA Xehanort, Punk Ass Bitch edition) from Dream Drop Distance not knowing what you’re getting into. He does some heart magic to turn Buzz against the rest of us. Also, he knock Sora into a different video game so this can happen. When Sora re-emerges, Buzz is gone, and you gotta rescue him. You succeed, Xehanort claims he hasn’t been thwarted. Woody, Buzz, and the rest of the toys agree that they’re going to go wait things out back in Andy’s room, and never do this again. The End. I really didn’t know what to do with the end bit there. This was one of the worlds I enjoyed more so I didn't have much to say aside from recapping it.

3. Tangled World

(When I was going over all this in my head ,I literally forgot this world for a good five minutes.) Ah, Tangled, a movie that could obviously only be improved by the inclusion of Donald Duck. I jest, but seriously. We arrive in the Kingdom of Corona, where naturally, the dashing rogue, Flynn Rider, is in duress. Heartless made it here before we did. rude. We save Flynn and find our way to Repunzel’s tower. Before Sora and co. arrive, we get to see a loving recreation of Repunzel having Flynn tied to a chair. Though this time Flynn doesn’t just volunteer his services, he signs Sora Donald and Goofy up for the journey. After ironing out the details, the crew leaves the tower and heads toward the kingdom for the festival. We get to see Repunzel discover the world. She’s torn. She’s happy, she’s sad, she’s bewildered, she’s mortified, Goofy is there. Just how I remember it. Somewhere along the road, Sora’s squad gets separated from Repunzel and her bae, Zachary Levi.

While separated, Sora meets Mother Gothel, which as the player we just saw her leave an unscheduled meeting with Organization XIII. Sora can’t tell her where Repunzel is, so she leaves in a huff. Sora squad finally catches up to the lovey-dovey duo as we close in on the kingdom proper. We make it to the kingdom and are greeted by a wonderful... quick-time dancing minigame. We kick that minigames ass and time flashes forward to the night, when the festival is happening! Woohoo, excitement! We proceed to watch a 10-minute clip straight from the movie, except Ron Perlman has been replaced by Marluxia and some heartless. Sora and his gang arrive just in time to see Repunzel being whisked away back to the tower by Mother Gothel. But, it’s too early to save the day and Marluxia pops out and tells Sora to sleep. Sora winks, finger guns, and collapses to the ground like a sack of wet potatoes. Marluxia may have mentioned something about seven new hearts of light first, but whatever, that’s only plot relevant. When Sora stops cat napping, Flynn is ready to save Repunzel! The crew makes it to the tower in time for Flynn Rider to get stabbed and to see the moving scene with him probably dying and Repunzel necromancing him. But lo and behold! This is Kingdom Hearts! When Mother Gothel fell out the tower window, she gets Heartlessed by Marluxia. You kill her a second time. The End, Happily ever after.

Number 4 - Twilight Town

Uh, yeah. Something about Roxas.

 Hayner, Pence, and Olette (I looked it up, you legally have to order their names that way) try to remember something that only vaguely happened to them in another life they don’t remember happening at all. I’m really not sure I remember anything else relevant happening here at all?

That’ll wrap up part 1. I think I’ve gotten enough of this out to finally sleep. Hell, if people enjoy it I may even continue it. It turned into more of a summary than I expected but I think most of my thoughts on the game spring to life in the last two thirds. Anywho. Hope you enjoyed.

[glitterdustcyclops]

five times bridget saw frankie (and one time she didn’t)

i have literally maybe only ever finished two stories in my entire life, and this is now one of them. i’m proud of how it turned out and so i’m posting it here. read on for gay smooches, angst, and pining. also see my sad gay feelings playlist for the soundtrack to this dumb little fic. enjoy~

1.

The first time Bridget sees Frankie is a hazy summer day. A party. They’ve just finished their junior year of high school and there’s this pervasive sense of freedom in the air, a yearning towards something; hundreds of sticky sweaty bodies in need of a distraction.

Summer parties happen at Brianna’s house, because Brianna’s got a swank mansion with a giant pool and incredibly permissive parents, and pool parties are a good excuse to be more naked than usual. Rampant hedonism and red plastic solo cups. Things get pretty crazy at Brianna’s summer parties.

There’s terrible music and screaming-giggling girls, a splash as someone is “accidentally” knocked into the pool, and Bridget is sitting on a patio chair by herself feeling like a sad loser. Her and Brianna are fighting again—not that Brianna would ever actually admit that—and her and Ryan are fighting because her and Brianna are fighting and her other so-called friends are ignoring her and Bridget’s actually pretty sure she wasn’t even invited to this stupid asshole party and like honestly, she didn’t even want to come anyway, she has no idea what she’s even doing here, this is the fucking worst and she’s going to leave and then—

She sees her.

Frankie.

Frankie is standing there in a halter-neck top straight out of an episode of I Love Lucy with a coordinating pair of high-waisted polka-dot patterned shorts, looking all innocent and batting her pretty little eyelashes. Talking to Ryan and pretending like she doesn’t notice the way he’s sizing her up like a goddamn meal. God, fuck her. Okay, so maybe it isn’t necessarily Frankie’s fault—Bridget was the one who suggested she and Ryan go on a “break” in the first place, and more importantly, she fucking hates him right now because he fucking sucks but, still.

It’s Frankie.

Bridge has hated Frankie since middle school. She can’t even really remember how it started, but Frankie doesn’t exactly make it hard to hate her. She’s just so fucking stuck up, all the time. She’s so weird, and she has to be doing it on purpose for attention, no one is just genuinely like that. And, okay, so they’re probably definitely way too old to keep doing this Mean Girl shit, but still. It’s one thing to have to put up with Frankie in class—always the teacher’s pet, the gold star favorite—it’s quite another to have to deal with her here, so perfect and pretty waltzing around like the Indie Romcom Sweetheart with her stupid pink hair and her stupid vintage clothes and her stupid instant camera and her stupid cat-eye glasses and—and—

Just who the fuck does Francine Takahashi think she is, anyway?

And before Bridget even knows what she’s doing, she finds herself headed towards them, towards Ryan with his fucking shirt off and water glistening on his carefully sculpted abs, standing too close and just leering—and Bridget’s already got some stupid plan half-formed in her head.

2.

The second time Bridget sees Frankie is about two weeks later. She’s done her best to put the whole stupid drunken night behind her, as much of it as she can remember anyway. Which is not a lot, but enough to know that Bridget hopes she never has to look at Francine Takahashi again. Ryan and Bridget are still not talking but she’s back to orbiting around Bri, because she doesn’t know what else to do with herself. And then, one day, Bridget finds herself in a mall food court, realizing not for the first time that teenage girls are fucking awful.

“Bridgie oh my God really?” Brianna whines behind her, voice Valley-Girl perfect. “So now you’re just gonna throw a fit and walk away? Okay fine, later loser!”

Bridget is walking away but she can practically hear Brianna’s eyeroll, her “oh I’m so totally not affected by this at all” put-upon sigh. Of course, she knows Bri way too well to buy that. She is pissed. Good. Fucking whore.

Bridget storms halfway across the food court—impulsive, anger sparking along her nerve endings—and that’s when she notices her.

Frankie.

She is perched at a table near the escalators by herself, drinking a smoothie and reading a book. Because of course she can’t scroll through her phone like a normal human being. Annoyance flares in Bridget’s eyes for a second, irritation tinged with regret, but somehow, she finds herself headed towards the other girl anyway.

“Uh, hi,” Bridget says once she’s close enough, all these mixed emotions settled in the pit of her stomach like a lead weight, and she’s already deeply regretting her choices thus far.

Decades, eons, a literal eternity passes before Frankie finally looks up from her book, setting it face down on the table and quirking up an eyebrow slightly.

“Oh, hello,” she says, politely enough. Maybe that’s a good sign.

“C-can I sit here?” Bridget blurts out. What the fuck—oh my god no—why—what are you doing?!

Frankie half shrugs up a shoulder, casual, and then just sits there, staring at her. Blinking. Waiting. Bridget takes the opposite chair.

Frankie blinks. Bridget swallows.

Silence. It’s awkward.

And then—

“Okay no, I gotta ask,” Frankie finally says, half to herself, “why?”

“Uh, why what?” Real smooth there Bridget, she thinks, bitterly.

Frankie makes a—a sound, strangled in her throat, her nostrils flaring; and then suddenly, she’s talking, or more like yelling, words spilling out of her in a barely-restrained angry huff.

“Ohh no. No no no, you know exactly what I’m talking about. How the fuck are you gonna sit there pretending like—like you didn’t—like, okay, sure I get the first time. Let’s play spin the bottle and embarrass the Lesbo! Ha ha, very funny—”

Bridget winces with embarrassment. She wants to run away again, wants to hide, to pretend like it never happened, but the lead in her belly keeps her anchored at the table. Like, like she deserves it somehow.

“I—I’m—”

“Oh what, are you sorry?” Frankie snaps back, eyes hard—glinting—this mean little half-smile on her blue-painted lips, and it’s just fucking weird seeing that expression on sweet-innocent-perfect Frankie’s face.

Bridget shrinks back a little, almost subconsciously, but that doesn’t stop Frankie. She’s on a roll now.

“For which part are you sorry Bridget? The part where you tried to play the lamest prank on me in the history of ever, or maybe, do you mean later when you came and you found me and you—”

“Stop!” Bridget feels her throat—tight, constricted—something sour and ugly bubbling up from the lead in her stomach. She doesn’t—she can’t—not here, there’s too many people here.

“Stop what?” Frankie sneers, arms crossed in front of her chest, nails digging into the skin. Everything about her is like a pit bull on a chain, snarling and ready to lunge, and it makes the dread in Bridget’s stomach boil higher. “You fucking kissed me, okay, and I’m not a fucking idiot. I know the difference between a prank and—and that. Don’t fucking do that.”

“I—” Bridget is frozen. She knows, oh God she knows.

“Well? Say something Bridget! Tell me how it was all just a big funny joke, tell me how when you moaned against me you were just totally kidding, no homo. Come on Bridget—”

“Shut up!”

To Bridget’s surprise, Frankie actually does. Her eyes big and wide and shocked while a couple at a table nearby stares at them. Bridget will probably definitely die of total mortification about this later, but for now all she can see is Frankie, all that hurt and anger her face and—fuck. Guilt tightens Bridget’s throat; the sicksour dread and anxiety of it all, and if she could zip herself out of her own skin right now, she totally would.

“I’m sorry okay!” Bridget shouts back, words bubbling up from her stomach to her too-tight throat, all of it crashing together and spilling out in a horrible jumble. “I’m sorry it was stupid and I shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have—just, I please, just please, please I’m sorry! Are you happy now? Okay? I’m the worst and you should probably just hate me forever like everyone else does and—”

Bridget knows she’s about to spill over into a full-blown emotional breakdown. She can hear how hysterical she sounds, but she can’t stop it, like her whole body’s on autopilot and she’s just screaming trapped in her brain trying to hit the buttons but they’re not doing anything, and the small rational part of her left just wants to melt into the floor from the embarrassment of it all. Especially when she feels tears welling up in her eyes, a couple drops breaking free to spill over her cheeks with that horrible wad of wet, messy emotions still caught in her throat.

“Uh…” Frankie looks at her, caught somewhere between utter confusion and rage, which must be a weird emotional place to be in, and Bridget will definitely be dying about this later.

“Do—I mean—” Frankie attempts, while Bridget feels the hot red splotches on her cheeks, and then, still just completely and totally mortally embarrassed about it all, gives a hiccupping little gasp of a sob. “Here, let’s uh, let’s go somewhere more—private.”

And then Bridget finds herself being more-or-less dragged to the women’s bathroom. Frankie deposits her in front of the sink, handing her a handful of paper towels while Bridget stares intently at the tile floor and tries to get her breathing under control. She blots ineffectively at her eyes, feeling like a complete and utter lunatic standing there under the harsh fluorescent lighting and completely losing her shit.

“Are you alright Bridget? Wait, no, that was dumb, I mean—look. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“You’re apologizing to me?” Bridget looks up at Frankie, tries to laugh it off, but it mostly comes out as a teary little blub.

“Yeah? I mean, I’m still pretty fucking pissed off, but I didn’t mean to like make you cry or anything. I just—I wanted you to at least acknowledge what you did to me.”

Frankie’s expression darkens for a moment, a shade of that cruel angry glare from before, but then she sighs—resigned—and continues, almost defeated sounding, “I, I wanted to know why.”

God. Bridget really wants to melt into the floor now. Even if she’s never been particularly fond of the girl, Bridget has the self-awareness to acknowledge that what she did was messed up, and it makes her skin feel all itchy. Guilty, she thinks pointedly, that’s all I’m feeling, just guilt, nothing else. And then before Frankie can make her feel any worse the excuses come pouring out of Bridget, another jumbled mess she only half-understands as she’s saying it—just, anything, whatever she can think of to make Frankie stop looking at her like that.

“I’m sorry Frankie. Really, I am. I’ve been acting weird for weeks, Ryan and I are fighting right now, and not that it’s like your fault, you didn’t even know, but I’m still so fucking mad at him, and you—just, when I saw you talking to him—I guess, I went kind of crazy?”

“Kind of?” Frankie chuckles, but it somehow manages to make Bridget feel a little bit less like the scum of the earth, so she’ll take it.

“Okay, fine,” Bridget rolls her eyes, “I went full-on psycho bitch.”

They share a small laugh at Bridget’s expense, and a part of the knot in her throat maybe almost starts to loosen, just a bit.

“I know it’s fucked up to take it out on you. I don’t—I was drunk and stupid and weird and such an asshole, and I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything. I’m a fucking mess right now but that’s got nothing to do with you, Frankie. I’m—I’m sorry.”

There’s another silence while a pit opens up in Bridget’s stomach, a yawning cavernous void of anxiety as Frankie gives her this look, like—like she doesn’t really buy it, but then, finally Frankie sighs, nodding, and that deep black pit in Bridget closes up. At least a little.

“Alright. Thank you for explaining Bridget.” There’s a pause as Frankie gives her a wicked sort of smile and then continues, “I will be the bigger person and choose to forgive you.”

And then she laughs, a real honest laugh, deeply amused at her stupid not-quite-a-joke. Bridget rolls her eyes, but it is actually a relief that Frankie’s gone back to being her normal annoying self. Receiving sympathy from the girl is almost worse than being shouted at by the mean angry cruel Frankie from before.

“Oh thanks,” Bridget snarks at her, but in spite of herself, she laughs a little bit too. And then she realizes how they must look, the two of them still standing in front of the sink, face-to-face weirdly close together, Frankie with her arms folded loosely around herself, near enough Bridget almost feels the warmth from her body while Bridget’s a tear-streaked mess, holding onto the wet paper towel and sniffling softly. So, she takes one precise step back and away from Frankie’s bubble, straightening herself, blinking away the remaining tears in her eyes.

“And don’t worry Princess,” Frankie is saying, all smirk now, “I won’t tell anyone about your meltdown. Secret’s safe with me.”

“Oh, shut up,” Bridget replies. She’s decided the best course of action is to go back to pretending like none of this happened and she doesn’t have feelings, like Frankie totally didn’t just watch her sobbing in a mall food court, and that she isn’t still holding that snotty crumple of paper towel.

She quickly tosses the offending ball into the trashcan and then goes back over to the sink to wash her hands. As if that would somehow help. God, her face is all puffy now, ugly blotches of red on her cheeks, her nose.

Frankie moves to lean against the back wall, watching Bridget in the mirror and looking far too amused at the entire situation. But at least she doesn’t say anything else; perfectly silent as Bridget tries in vain to fix her mascara.

Maybe, Bridget thinks, she really will be good on her word and won’t tell anyone, and then Bridget can bury this brief horrible moment way deep down inside her with all the other ones. She hopes so, even though she has no right to. It would only be fair, after all, for Frankie to use this newfound upper hand to give Bridget a taste of her own medicine. After all those years of torment Brianna and Bridget put her through? She wouldn’t blame her.

Bridget winces again, guilty just thinking about it. All throughout middle school Bridget and Brianna and Brooklyn did whatever they could to make Frankie’s life miserable for no other reason than she was weird and they could. Hell, they practically tortured the girl, every day for years, and sure Frankie was annoying and stuck up, but still. Looking back on it now, the whole thing just seems so petty and pointless.

“Hey Frankie?” Bridget says with a resigned sigh, meeting Frankie’s eyes in the mirror before looking back down again. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a horrid bitch to you for like, ever.”

“Yeah, you were kind of the worst,” Frankie laughs, and Bridget is about to get defensive again but Frankie’s still talking, all casual and breezy like they’re just having a chat about the weather outside and not the multiple years of bullying (and Bridget can’t even pretend like that wasn’t what it was, not in her own head) that they put her through.

“But that was like forever ago, everyone was a terrible monster when we were twelve. I’ve gotten over it,” she shrugs.

Bridget wants to say “Really?” all incredulous, how could anyone just shrug and be over that, but then she meets Frankie’s eyes in the mirror again, and she looks—maybe not exactly pleased, but definitely not traumatized or anything. Maybe that’s something.

“Thank you for apologizing, dude,” Frankie continues when Bridget doesn’t respond, still staring uselessly down at the counter. “I appreciate it.”

And she sounds like she really means it.

“You’re welcome, I guess?” Bridget replies lamely.

There’s another silence then, the soft drip drip of the faucet the only sound between them, but it’s a tiny bit less awkward now. Maybe we’ve bonded, Bridget thinks sarcastically.

“So maybe let’s get out of the bathroom yeah?” Frankie says, gesturing over her shoulder towards the door.

“Uh yeah, probably.”

Frankie turns around and heads back out to the food court and Bridget, at a loss for what to do, follows her.

“What are your plans for the day?” Frankie is asking as they walk together, looking over at Bridget like she’s actually interested in the answer.

“Uh—” Bridget stops to think about it. Brianna has almost certainly ditched her ass by now, and she won’t be able to get a ride from anyone else for a while. She’s not sure if she really wants to anyway; the mall is cool inside and being here is better than being stuck at home. Even with Frankie it might not be so bad, maybe, the two of them wandering around together.

Bridget’s sure then, that’s she well and truly lost it, suffering from heat stroke or psychosis or something. But she plays it cool.

“Nothing really,” she says with a bit of a shrug, “Brianna was my ride.”

“Oh,” Frankie chuckles again, “whoops!”

“Yeah.”

“Well, come on then,” Frankie says expectantly, waving for Bridget to follow her.

“Uh, what?” Bridget says instead.

“Let’s have an Adventure!”

And then Frankie stops walking, turning back around and giving Bridget this look that gleams, bright, mischievous, and Bridget is definitely not sure she likes that look. But since today is already strange enough as it is, Bridget sighs to herself, shrugging again. Fuck it, why not, she thinks.

It’s not like things between them could get any weirder.

Together they walk around downtown, something that Bridget’s done maybe hundreds of times, but following Frankie is like seeing it all for the first time again. Of course, she knows all these obscure places off the beaten path where tourists don’t usually go. A thrift store, naturally, with one of those weird fortune telling machines out front; a racist caricature in a turban that vaguely predicts something that may or may not be happening to them in the future. An actual photobooth in another random little boutique, a shitty arcade where Frankie wins Bridget a weird stuffed alien toy, record stores and stationery shops, and then they top it all off with vegan ice cream from a quaint local parlor that does strange flavors like black charcoal, or something called Unicorn Vomit. But it’s surprisingly good (even though Bridget sticks with tried and true vanilla, thank-you-very-much) and, in spite of herself, Bridget finds that she’s actually like, having fun?

They talk and they laugh while Bridget is pulled this way and that, clutching her new little alien friend and posing for dumb photos, and she finds that it’s quite an enjoyable afternoon.

With Frankie.

Wonders never cease.

But of course eventually all things must end. It’s getting to be early evening now, and Bridget realizes she was supposed to be home—Jesus, an hour ago. So they make the trek back to the mall, back to where Frankie’s car is safely waiting for them in the parking garage. And of course, Frankie drives a lime green Volkswagen Beetle with white daisy decals on the sides, of fucking course. Frankie drives her home blasting a Beach Boys tape the whole way—because of course her car is old enough to still have a tape deck, and of course Frankie listens to the fucking Beach Boys on cassette—and somewhere along the way Frankie asks Bridget for her number, oh-so-casually, like it barely even matters, and Bridget doesn’t think twice before she gives it to her.

And then suddenly Bridget is home, walking up to her room, ignoring the lecture her mom is currently shouting at her from the kitchen while she holds her phone in her hand, one new message from an as-yet unsaved number blinking up at her: hay gurl hay. And Bridget feels this lightness bubbling up from her, from where the lead weight and the anxiety-pit had been before. Not even her asshole mother can ruin her mood. For the first time in what seems like a long time, Bridget feels—good. More than good. Happy, she realizes.

And isn’t that pathetic? She’s happy from just one afternoon spent hanging out with her former mortal enemy. But Bridget can’t deny that she is. She’s happy, and she had fun, and she decides that she’s just not going to think too hard about why.

3.

The third time Bridget sees Frankie, she can’t actually see her very well at all. They’re at the Garden Arts Cinema, a small local movie theater, and it’s all dark and cool inside. Too dark to see much of anything. Which of course hasn’t stopped Bridget from trying to sneak sideways glances whenever she thinks she can get away with it.

They go to a lot of movies for a reason.

It’s been a few weeks now and Bridge is finding herself enjoying this weird sort of secret friendship they’ve got going on. Frankie has found a way, somehow, to make all the normally annoying things about her magically endearing. She loves telling dumb jokes and she loves to laugh, and her laugh is so infectious that Bridget usually can’t help but start laughing too.

She’s basically stopped talking to Bri and Brooklyn right now. Besides a random “where r u???” text and a couple Instagram messages they haven’t really interacted at all since that fateful day at the mall. It doesn’t seem like Bri misses her company, and Bridget doesn’t really miss her either. She prefers her Adventures with Frankie. With Frankie it’s just so easy, she doesn’t feel like she has to put up a front. She can just let herself exist, for once.

Frankie seems to enjoy her company too. Desperate, she had told Bridget. All her friends out of town, on their own vacations. And Bridget carefully felt nothing at all about it, when Frankie told her that she was essentially her last resort. It doesn’t matter. They’re just having fun together.

Frankie comes and picks her up in her ridiculous little hippie Bug and they hang out wherever she’s decided. Thrift stores—of course Frankie knows all of them—where she’ll try on atrociously tacky clothing just to make Bridget laugh, or they’ll hit up the arcade and compete for the most tickets. And then, of course, movies. Frankie likes Garden Arts because they do a lot of classic cinema and weird indies and every Tuesday tickets are five bucks.

Bridget likes that no one their age ever goes there, and on a sunny Tuesday afternoon even with $5 tickets, the theater’s almost always basically empty. Safe and dark and private. It’s not like Bridget’s ashamed of being seen with Frankie or anything like that. She just—she doesn’t want to deal with the questions she knows people would ask her. And she shouldn’t have to! This is—theirs, their thing. Their secret sort-of-friendship, born of desperation, and that doesn’t have to mean anything.

Frankie doesn’t complain about it, thankfully. Hardly seems to notice at all, really, that Bridget studiously avoids going anywhere somewhere might recognize them, doesn’t let Frankie come inside her house or see her friends. Honestly, she probably wouldn’t want to hang out with Bridge’s horrid Mean Girl clique anyway. Bridget barely wants to hang out with them.

So instead they go to Frankie’s places. Quaint cafes, weird restaurants. Empty movie theaters.

Frankie picked their movie today—they trade off—which means they’re watching a really bad horror movie from probably the 70s. Bridget has never voluntarily seen so many horror movies; it took her literal years before she could make it all the way through a Saw. Just, all that blood? No thank you. But she’s a Good Friend, and so she lets Frankie pick. Frankie has suffered through several bad romcoms for her, so it’s the least she could do. And Frankie’s kind enough not to make fun of her for being startled by the jump scares or hiding behind her during the goriest parts.

Like now, for instance.

“God please tell me when it stops!” Bridget practically squeals, squeezing her eyes shut and clinging to Frankie for dear life.

Frankie chuckles softly under her breath, but she doesn’t say anything.

And maybe Bridget lets herself cling longer that she strictly needs to, head turned into the crook of Frankie’s neck, breathing in the smell of her. Her shampoo—which always smells amazing—and her perfume and just her, her skin, and then Bridget realizes how fucking weird that is and she stiffens, pulling away and rearranging herself back into her seat.

Okay. So, Bridget officially has A Problem.

She’s not quite sure when it started, she didn’t notice when the change happened. When she suddenly stopped thinking of Frankie as the annoying stuck up hipster, or the slightly-less annoying girl she’s kinda casually hanging with, to—well. This. It’s just, sometimes Frankie just looks at her, when Bridget has cracked a particularly amusing joke, or even when they’re just sitting next to each other at a café saying nothing much at all, and it’s enough to make Bridget’s stomach go all…flippy and weird. Or sometimes Bridget will catch herself staring at Frankie and realize she hasn’t really heard anything she’s said for the past couple of minutes. She keeps getting distracted. By Frankie’s lips especially.

It doesn’t help that Frankie’s always wearing something on her lips. Whether it’s sparkly lip gloss or something stranger like black, or one time, memorably, fucking sunflower-yellow lipstick; and it draws attention. Like a bright yellow traffic sign. And it doesn’t help either that Frankie’s got a fucking obsession with candy. Lollipops that she keeps stashed in her purse and pulls out randomly, sucking on them for hours. Or, if not lollipops, then bubblegum; blowing giant ridiculous bubbles and popping them, over and over. And Bridget fucking hates it. It’s like Frankie knows, somehow. Like she’s doing it on purpose just to torment her.

And it definitely, definitely doesn’t help that Bridget still remembers what those lips felt like against hers. She can’t stop remembering it, in perfect painful clarity. It keeps her up at night, that wretched first kiss—and then, even worse, the second. It makes her stomach feel like she’s swallowed hot coals, like she can’t breathe. And it most definitely doesn’t help that Bridget can’t stop fucking wondering what it would feel like to have Frankie’s lips pressed against other places.

Seriously, it’s a fucking problem.

Suddenly there’s a blood-curdling scream from the pretty blond meat on screen and Bridget practically jumps out of her own skin, reaching out for Frankie’s arm again, her heart pounding in a sympathetic rush of adrenaline. And then, Bridget’s heart threatens to pound right on out of her fucking chest when Frankie just reaches over oh-so-casually and tangles their fingers together. Bridget thinks she might actually be having a heart attack right now, her stomach doing somersaults while she tries to remember how to breathe like a normal person.

Frankie doesn’t even look at her, her attention focused on the screen of course, taking a sip of her giant cherry Icee with her other hand, but Bridget can almost swear she sees the faintest hit of a smirk on the other girl’s face, limned in light from the screen.

Those lips. Cherry red today.

Oh no. Wrong thing to be thinking about while they’re fucking holding hands. Oh God oh God oh God—

But then, just as sudden, Frankie pulls her fingers free so she can grab a handful of popcorn from the bucket balanced on Bridget’s lap, and Bridget absolutely hates the way she misses that brief contact.

The rest of the movie passes in a blur. Frankie doesn’t try to hold her hand again and Bridget holds herself stiff as a board in her seat. She’s actually pretty sure that she’s died in fact, and this is her eternal torment in Hell, for being such a shitty person or something. It seems fitting.

“Alright? Movie didn’t scare you too bad, right?” Frankie is asking her as they stand in the lobby, just a hint of playful mockery in her voice.

“What? Oh yeah. Yeah, I’m—fine,” Bridget replies absently. She’s just a bit distracted at the moment. Why is my hand tingling right now?

“Ha ha okay. Come on, let’s get you home before midnight, Princess,” Frankie laughs, and Bridget especially hates the stupid flip her stomach does every time Frankie calls her that stupid nickname.

They head out together into the late afternoon summer heat, and before Bridget even realizes what she’s doing, she’s reaching down and grabbing Frankie’s hand again. Fuck. Frankie doesn’t say anything about it, hardly seems to notice, really. She just walks hand-in-hand with Bridget, laughing about something dumb that supposedly happened during the movie.

Meanwhile, Bridget is basically on the verge of a goddamn meltdown, the warmth of Frankie’s hand in hers making her heart go all stupid again. She thinks it’s probably a little weird (and definitely incredibly stupid) to be walking hand-in-hand with another girl when they’re seventeen years old—a gay girl no less—and it’s probably even weirder that she’s so fucking freaked out about it. Bridget wants to let go but she also kind of doesn’t, and she’s totally way overthinking holding hands with someone, this is officially insane—and, and Frankie’s laughing again at some joke Bridget missed.

Inside Frankie’s car they sit and wait—it’s old enough the AC takes a while to kick in—and it’s quiet except for Frankie’s favorite Beach Boys tape. The poppy fun music is completely at odds with how Bridget is currently feeling, too distracted by the rapid beatbeatbeat of her own heart to make casual conversation.

“Bridget,” Frankie says suddenly, entirely too serious.

“Yeah?” Bridget turns to meet Frankie’s eyes for the first time in, God, hours.

She’s caught in Frankie’s deep brown gaze, those eyes practically magnified by the ridiculous glasses she wears, surrounded by thick dark lashes, and Bridget’s throat goes dry. She swallows. There’s a beat as she hangs suspended for a moment in that tension, and then, because Bridget has evidently gone completely and totally one hundred percent absolutely nuts, she leans in towards Frankie and then—

Then, before Bridget quite realizes it’s happening, Frankie leans in too, over the center console; close, too close, and then—and then—

Then Frankie is suddenly fucking kissing her.

It’s just a quick little peck, barely anything at all really, but it still somehow feels like lightning sparking down Bridget’s spine; and then just as fast Frankie is pulling back with a wicked little smirk.

“There. Now we’re even,” she giggles.

Oh for fuck’s sake—Bridget feels like she’s gonna vomit up her own fucking heart. That’s it. A girl can only be reasonably expected to take so much torment. So she grabs Frankie by the shoulders and pulls her in close and then kisses her for real, goddamnit.

Apparently her memory is a liar, because this kiss feels nothing like the other ones did. Those hazy nightmare-dream kisses that still fucking haunt her. No, this one is way better. Maybe it’s because she isn’t drunk off her ass and miserable this time, but God, this is. Right. She feels the crushing weight of her heart hammering away in her chest, and she thinks she might actually explode with it as Frankie leans in and kiss her back, and it’s all just so different-new-thrilling-exciting-terrifying—and Bridget knows she’s definitely dead now, because she’s actually pretty sure she’s stopped breathing. Her grip on Frankie’s shoulders is white-knuckled, and she doesn’t stop until her lungs burn.

When they finally part for air Bridget can’t help but notice the way Frankie’s gone all breathless, and that does something absolutely stupid to Bridget’s heart.

“Finally,” Frankie says, relieved, giddy, some other emotion Bridget doesn’t have a name for.

“What?” Bridget blinks at her, lips tingling as she sits there stunned stupid, feeling like a moron.

“Honestly, I’ve been waiting for like a week now for you to get over whatever your deal is and kiss me already, but you’re a pretty stubborn lady, you know?”

“You—you knew?”

Oh, wow Bridge, not even gonna try and deny it, huh?

“Uh yeah?” Frankie says like it’s obvious. “I mean, I hate to tell you this sweetie,” and there goes Bridget’s heart again, “but you haven’t exactly been. Uh. Subtle.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh come on Bridge, I’m not blind. I can see you staring at me when you think I don’t notice. You blush. Either I’ve got a second head growing out of my neck I haven’t noticed that you’re too embarrassed to tell me about, or you’re into me.”

“What—I—” Bridget sighs. She really can’t pretend not to know what Frankie’s talking about, not when her stomach feels like it’s flipped all the way inside out and her heart won’t stop fucking beating, and all she can think is I wanna kiss her again. It’s hopeless.

Bridget wants to grab Frankie again and kiss her silly, and it terrifies her.

“Sorry,” Bridget mumbles, a supremely weird mix of embarrassed and horny.

“You don’t have to apologize, Bridge. I was trying to take things slow, give you space. Didn’t wanna freak you out. I thought—”

“What?”

“It’s silly.”

Bridget gives her a look.

“Well, okay, but I thought if I flirted enough, you’d get the hint? But goddamn you are oblivious, or maybe I’m worse at flirting than I thought—”

“You were—were flirting with me?!” Bridget blurts out before she can stop herself.

“Oh. Okay, so I guess I am worse at that than I thought.”

And is it just Bridget’s imagination, or does Frankie sound embarrassed?

“No! Shut up that’s not what—I, I’m sorry. I just—why?”

And now Frankie’s staring at Bridge like she’s the one with the second head.

“Uh, because I like you too?” Frankie says, as though Bridget had asked her what color the sky was. “Okay, just so we’re clear here, I uh, I really kinda like you Bridget? And I’m pretty sure you like me too, I mean—”

Frankie waves vaguely to the space between them while Bridget feels her face heat all over.

“And uh,” Frankie stops, swallowing. Holy shit, she’s nervous. Finally, it isn’t just Bridget freaking out by herself. “I dunno, maybe you wanna go out sometime?”

And then Frankie’s round freckle-dotted cheeks go absolutely bright pink, and Bridget is definitely in trouble, because it’s the cutest fucking thing she’s ever seen. She’s sure now. She’s died, and maybe she’s not in hell, but this is clearly some weird afterlife-fantasy scenario. There is no way this is really actually happening.

Bridget stares at Frankie for a minute, lost for words.

Frankie, with her neon-pink-orange bob and her blunt bangs that make her look a bit like a comic book character, with her thick black cat-eye glasses and her delicate features, her softly almond-shaped eyes so dark, dark enough to get lost in; with her elegant pale throat and the black choker wrapped around it, and the voice that comes out of it, the one Bridget can’t stop dreaming about.

Frankie, who is a complete and total weirdo and so deeply, genuinely sincere about it. Bridget can’t believe she used to think it was some kind of act. She knows better now of course, knows that it’s impossible for Frankie to be anything other than herself. This goofy sweet silly smiling pixie, who is just so fucking beautiful that it makes Bridget’s heart ache.

Frankie, who for some unfathomable reason, actually likes Bridget too.

Why? What could Frankie possibly see in her?

In Bridget, the never-quite-as-pretty one, the boring one, the side-kick-in-her-own-damn-life one. She honestly has no idea why Frankie would like her, why anyone would, for that matter. But maybe—maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe, she could—maybe, just maybe—

Why not, Bridget thinks. She might not understand it, but she wants to believe Frankie, believe that another person, this person, could know her and still want to be around her, be with her. So, she pulls Frankie close and tries to tell her with a kiss, since she can’t say the words.

Yes yes yes I wanna go out I like you so much I wanna be your girlfriend please like me too please oh God please don’t stop kissing me, never stop—

“So, is that a yes?” Frankie says, all sweet and innocent, once they’ve parted again.

Bridget rolls her eyes. She’s the worst, Bridget thinks, but then, God I’m totally into it aren’t I?

“Ugh. Fine. Yes.”

Her stomach, miraculously, does not manage to come up her throat with the words, as much as it threatens to.

“Good,” Frankie laughs, the sound making Bridget’s stomach flip back over, and then she kisses her again.

That night Bridget goes to bed with a heart full of glitter, all her nerve endings spark-fizzing with joy while warmth blooms down deep in the pit of her stomach. She swears she can almost still feel the pressure of Frankie’s lips against hers, the slick wet heat of their mouths pressed together, the taste of Frankie’s cherry-flavored lip gloss.

God, Bridget thinks, lying in bed and staring at her phone, the text message from a still-unsaved number (several sparkly heart emojis and a ridiculous kissy face) that makes her feel like she’s flying as she runs a finger over her screen. God, I am in so much fucking trouble.

4.

The fourth time she sees Frankie, Bridget’s sprawled out on a picnic blanket watching her, watching as Frankie dances to the music they’re playing off her phone, watches her twirling and singing along enthusiastically and generally being a complete and total dork. Just to make Bridget laugh.

This is their Fifth Official Date (not that Bridget’s been counting or anything); an almost disgustingly adorable picnic in the park. Frankie has brought an honest-to-God picnic basket and everything. There is iced tea and sandwiches carefully cut out with a heart-shaped cookie cutter, because of course there is.

Frankie just does shit like that. It’s absolutely ridiculous and she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care if someone might make fun of her or call it stupid, she takes Bridget on cheesy-romantic dates and sends her “good morning babe,” and “sweet dreams hon,” texts every single day and makes her actual mixtapes and heart-shaped goddamn sandwiches, and it all drives Bridget absolutely crazy. It makes her heart feel like it’s about to explode into confetti.

Today is a beautiful almost-breezy late afternoon and they’ve managed to find a nice shady spot under some trees and down a steep hill that’s relatively private. No one’s around to bother them for playing their music too loud, and even better, there’s no prying eyes to judge her when Bridget decides she can’t take it anymore and pulls Frankie down on top of her.

Frankie giggles like crazy—which always makes Bridget’s stomach feel like she’s swallowed a bunch of butterflies—as she tumbles into an awkward heap on top of Bridget’s lap and into her waiting warms, laughing and squirming as Bridge assaults her with kisses wherever she can reach.

It’s pretty fucking incredible that she can just do that, now.

So far they’re trying to keep it casual. Well, as casual as Frankie can be. Bridget is quickly discovering that Frankie has a hard time being casual about anything she feels—if the mixtapes and picnics are any indication—but, it’s casual enough. Taking it slow. It’s—it’s not like Bridget’s ashamed or anything. She just hasn’t told anyone yet.

And it’s not like she has to, anyway. It’s no one’s business but their own. Just the two of them. This little world they’ve created, these little stolen moments. With Frankie everything else just disappears for a while and Bridget doesn’t have to worry so much about everything. She doesn’t have to care what people would think, what they would say; she doesn’t have to care about anything but this girl.

This impossible wonderful ridiculous girl with pink-orange hair and strawberry lip gloss, who makes Bridget heart-shaped sandwiches and makes her head spin. This thing, so precious and pure. Is it so wrong that she wants to protect it as long as she can?

She hopes Frankie understands. They haven’t exactly discussed it, but Bridget thinks that she does.

“Hey you,” Frankie says, still sprawled on her lap, arms resting casually around Bridget’s shoulders, hands tangled in her hair. Rubbing idly at the back of her neck. That feels nice.

“Hey yourself,” Bridget replies, with a giant ridiculous grin on her face, looking up at Frankie and the plastic pickles that are dangling from her ears. Because of course, Frankie has a pair of earrings shaped like plastic pickles.

God I’m just absolutely stupid for her, aren’t I?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Frankie asks her.

Bridge shrugs. “It—it’s nothing. You. This, I like this.”

She waves a hand between them.

“Hmm, me too.” Another casual kiss to Bridget’s cheek, and Frankie smiles, that smile that just lights up every single corner of Bridget’s stupid idiot heart.

Casual, she warns herself. Easy. Nice and light. She’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way. To keep the rest of the world away from them.

5.

The fifth time Bridget sees Frankie is the worst, because they’re fighting. It seems like they’re always fighting these days. They’ve been whatever they are for over a month now, and Frankie’s frustrated. Clearly. Tired of keeping it a secret, of hiding. And Bridget knows that, she hates making Frankie feel like she’s ashamed of her, of what they have together.

But.

She just—

Brianna has started noticing things. They’re talking again, and she’s asking questions. Questions Bridget doesn’t—can’t answer. Doesn’t have the words to even begin answering them. And Ryan too—Christ they’re still technically dating, aren’t they? They made up before he left, and now he’s still texting her, even away at football camp, and she texts him back and it makes her feel—

Rotten.

Even her parents have almost caught them twice, and she can’t keep—she can’t keep doing this.

Bridget is scared. She’s panicking, she knows it, and she can’t stop. Can’t stop the anxiety that bubbles up whenever she’s not with Frankie. And lately, even when she is with her. Like now for instance. They’re at their spot, their safe private spot in the park but Bridget swore she saw someone from school walk by and now she’s totally freaking out. This is way too much, way more than she asked for.

It’s just—it’s, it’s too good.

So, Bridget pushes. Pushes Frankie away, and of course Frankie’s so stubborn she just pushes right back, and lately all they do is yell at each other, and—

And it just sucks so fucking much. Bridget knows that she picks fights with Frankie on purpose, some part of her just knows that Frankie’s way too good for her, so she’s decided to burn it all down before Frankie has a chance to get sick of her, to hurt her first. And Bridget hates herself so fucking much for it, for doing this, but somehow, she just can’t stop.

Coward, she thinks bitterly, as Frankie storms off, and Bridget immediately regrets it. The words she said still echo like a firework, like gunshots—why are you so fucking clingy all the time—and Bridget wants to call her back, to apologize. To beg and plead and make promises she can’t actually keep, to do whatever it takes just to see that smile back on her lovely Frankie’s face.

But she can’t.

Coward.

So the next time Frankie texts her to apologize, Bridget doesn’t respond. Through all the time they’ve been hanging out, she’s never once ignored a text from Frankie, but she just. Can’t. So she doesn’t.

And when Frankie texts again, worried, asking if she’s okay, Bridget just deletes the message, heart sunk like a stone deep in the black void of her stomach.

Bridget keeps deleting them, feeling her heart crack open a little more with each new notification, each new message more and more worried. And then the worried messages turn to angry messages, and it’s what she deserves, so Bridget doesn’t delete those. She reads every single one and lets them pierce through her empty cavernous chest, the ruined crater of her heart, all the while thinking coward, thinking monster, thinking—no knowing that she’s the worst person who ever lived.

And then finally, horribly, the texts just stop coming altogether.

Bridget pretends like she isn’t dying inside, looking down at that last message from Frankie: okay fine fuck you too you fucking bitch. It makes Bridget feel like she’s swallowed broken glass, seeing those words there. But she can’t fix it. This is what I deserve.

Instead she goes back to Ryan, back from camp now looking all boyish charm and tan and big muscly arms, and it’s just easy, so easy to flirt and to bat her eyelashes and let him woo her again; and she goes back to Brianna and Brooklyn, and they don’t ask questions.

And the worst part of it all really, is that Bridget can’t tell anyone about it. No one even knows. The whole wretched summer is locked away in some alternate universe and she can’t say a single goddamn word. And then, even worse: the one person who could possibly comfort her in a situation like this, the one person who had so quickly become her biggest emotional support, so vital to her, is the exact fucking person she can’t turn to, because Bridget is a fucking monster who has ruined everything good in her life.

So, she pushes it all back down, way deep down into the pit of her, to rot with the rest of her emotions. Bridget had been well-practiced in the art of bottling shit up way before she had ever met Frankie, and she can do it again. She can smile and laugh and be pretty and perfect and popular. With her handsome wonderful boyfriend and her two best friends. All of it just so fucking perfect.

But no, that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part comes a week later, at the tail end of summer, when she gets home from Brianna’s house one evening to find her parents waiting for her in the kitchen, her laptop open on the table and a small box she’d somehow forgotten about sitting next to it. Bridget recognizes that box instantly, and it feels like a bullet straight to her heart. She stops dead in her tracks, voice caught in her throat.

That box. Random empty packaging from a birthday present, kept hidden under her bed. Secret, safe. And after—after everything, she’d simply forgotten all about it, forgot to throw it away. The things inside aren’t that important; photobooth strips and a couple silly little arcade prizes, the mix tapes, cute notes folded into origami hearts—but then, not quite so meaningless: the ring. It hadn’t been anything like, crazy, just, they’d been them for a couple weeks, and Bridget had spotted this pretty rose gold ring in one of their favorite thrift stores. It was a small, delicate thing, shaped like a wreathe of intricate little leaves. No stone, but elegant and dainty and nothing like Bridget had ever owned. So Frankie had surprised her with it the next time they went out. And absurdly, Bridget had almost wanted to cry when Frankie gave it to her.

She never wore it, of course—that felt like too much of something—but even just keeping it near her, in her little vault of treasures, it was—

Ryan had never bought her jewelry before.

Seeing that box now, on the table, it feels like Bridget’s entire chest has been sliced open, every awful weeping oozing thing she’s been trying to keep bottled up leaking out all over their pristine tile floor. She feels—flayed. Raw. She wants, bizarrely, to laugh almost; and then suddenly, she wants to cry, and the rush of emotions makes her feel dizzy.

They know.

“Bridget,” her father says, his voice so cold hard angry that it gives Bridget goose bumps. They. Know. “Your mother and I found some—concerning messages on your phone last night, on your computer, and we’d just like to talk to you.”

They know oh God they know how did they—

It’s all come tumbling down, crashing in on her, crushing her under the weight of it. Catching her breathless and she can’t—Bridget can’t—she—so she does the only thing she can think to do. She lies.

When it’s all said and done, her parents know all about poor Bridget and her Psycho Lesbian Stalker. She pours it all out of her, exactly what they want to hear. How she’s just so sorry she didn’t tell them, how she was so scared—because Frankie scared her—they were just friends, Bridget was being nice because she pitied her until Frankie got all crazy and delusional and obsessed with her and Bridget couldn’t tell them, she wanted to so bad of course, but she couldn’t, she was just so embarrassed about it all.

There’s threats of a restraining order; a tense meeting between her parents and Frankie’s parents and lawyers (it’s almost ironic, Bridget thinks, that this is how she finally meets Frankie’s family), and when it’s all said and done, Frankie promises to stay away from Bridget at school, promises not to try and contact her again so they don’t have to involve the authorities in this ugly business. Frankie will leave Bridget alone and no one else has to know.

And the whole time, Bridget can’t look anyone in the eye. She decides then, sitting in that horrible office watching Frankie caved in on herself, defeated, that she is done feeling things for good.

She doesn’t tell Ryan or Brianna anything about it. She couldn’t do that to Frankie. Not that. Of course it doesn’t matter, it couldn’t possibly make up for the colossal mountain of horrible things Bridget has already done to Frankie, but still. She doesn’t want to talk about it anyway.

And then about four days later Bridget finally breaks up with Ryan for good. Sick of him, sick of being near him and pretending. She’s sick of seeing the way Brianna looks at him, like she’s mentally inserting herself where Bridget’s standing next to him. And of course, they’ve barely finished typing their goodbye texts—amicable enough—when Brianna is suddenly calling her, utterly, utterly heartbroken but wanting to know if Bridget minds, maybe, if she asks Ryan out. Apparently, she had just dumped Matt, her so-called True Love, the day before.

Bridget honestly does not fucking care anymore. She feels emphatically nothing about it, about either of them. Fine. Let Brianna have him. Bridget honestly can’t even remember why she wanted him so badly in the first place, except because Brianna did too. Whatever. She hopes they get married and have a bunch of perfect fucking children and grow old together and die.

She lets it go. All of it, she keeps on Not Feeling Things all the way until school starts. Right until the night before, when she wakes up suddenly, startled by a nightmare, her heart aching with fear and guilt. Bridget reaches out—still half-asleep—like somehow Frankie would be there, would be beside her telling her that it’s alright and to go back to sleep. But all Bridget feels is the empty sheets instead.

And then, Bridget is done pretending she doesn’t feel things. All at once it all bursts out of her, all the regret and shame and guilt and anger and wretched awful heartbreak pining, all the gross ugly tears she’s been keeping locked up for way longer than this summer. All of that pain finally pouring out, spilling out all over her, and Bridget just hopes she doesn’t sob too loudly.

Thankfully no one wakes up or comes to check on her, and that’s almost worse, somehow. Bridget curls up into a ball on her floor, and that’s when she notices the a small forgotten plushie under her bed. She recognizes it instantly. Herman the Alien. The very first thing Frankie had given her, before, before everything, before they’d even—it was that very first time they hung out together, at the arcade. He’d somehow come out of the box and managed to escape the Great Purge.

Bridget looks at him through the tears streaming down her face, his giant black eyes and tiny little smile, and this stupid green alien plushie just breaks something inside her, another wall come crumbling down. So, fully aware how completely and totally pathetic she must look, Bridget crawls over and pulls him out, cuddles him close. Wishing it could somehow bring her comfort, that it could somehow bring Frankie back.

Stupidly, Bridget wishes that she could go back in time and undo the entire awful summer, that she could fix this, and she’s not entirely sure which part she wants to change. She hardly understands anything anymore, really, except that she misses Frankie, right down to her marrow, and she hates it so much.

Most of all, Bridget wishes that she was a different person, a better person. Somehow who could have deserved something as sweet and as good as what she had with Frankie. She wishes that she hadn’t been such a colossal idiot, a coward about it, and that she hadn’t thrown it all away.

But it’s useless. Bridget is not a better person. She’s known that all along, of course. This is what she deserves. She is a horrible monster who fucked everything up, and she can’t ever fix it. So instead, she holds a dumb stuffed alien and she cries and cries and cries.

It doesn’t help.

6.

The first day of school, Bridget walks up to Green Valley with her head held high. There are rumors swirling around, but there always are, and Bridget is too used to pretending she doesn’t hear them. Everyone knows about the Ryan-Brianna situation by now of course, and the looks of pity people shoot her would normally drive her nuts, but Bridget doesn’t feel anything anymore, so she hardly notices them. She finds Brianna waiting at their normal spot, her and Ryan standing close together like they had been made for each other in a lab somewhere, his paws draped all over her. Obnoxious. And the rest of their friends stand there too, all of them talking and laughing and just so fucking perfect.

Bridget can’t help but notice that Matt is conspicuously absent, however. She doesn’t blame him.

Of course, her and Brianna and Brooklyn have all their classes together. They’d set up their schedules at the end of last year, before the summer, before—everything. It had seemed natural, logical, at the time. The three of them always had all their classes together. Now though, Bridget walks into first period wishing she could join the witness protection program and move to another country where no one speaks English.

Their first period is Chemistry—which is already torture enough, honestly—and she comes in and sits at their usual spot, back corner, forever Brianna’s right hand woman. The two of them talk like they don’t secretly hate each other’s guts, performing for their audience.

And so of course in first period Chemistry with Bridget’s blood near boiling, simmering rage and everything carefully hidden underneath, all bottled up but almost leaking out of her, that’s when—

God. She walks in.

Frankie. In one of her fanciest tea-length floral-print vintage skirts, all perfect poofy petticoat and hair freshly dyed a bright aqua-teal color; bangs straight, eyeliner sharp. Looking for all the world like a woman on a mission. Determined. Proud. Bridget’s heart aches.

She watches Frankie’s eyes scanning the room, looking for something, and then—she sees Bridget staring at her and her mouth drops open in a small, startled “oh.” Almost like, like she’d forgotten, somehow. Bridget feels what remains of her heart shatter into impossibly tinier pieces, feels like she’s about to vomit up every single wretched shard right there on the table and so—

So, Bridget looks away, and she pretends she doesn’t see her.