#but when you're seven and everyone around you calls it that you just sorta think it's okay y'know?

[crazywolf828]

Man, you ever just realized something is so bad and like probably racist but you grew up saying it and you're like how even???

[cringefailvox]

where would alastor fit into the staticbelle au, :0 ?

staticbelle au

OKAY IT REALLY DEPENDS BC!! we still don't know exactly why alastor is at the hotel! it could be because he's there on orders from someone else, or he's there to entertain himself, or to manipulate charlie for reasons unknown, or something else entirely—and the reason will really impact whether or not he'd choose to try and get involved with charlie if she was already supported by vox. a lot of his sway over the hotel comes from the fact that it was crumbling into disrepair when he arrived and he fairy godmother'd it into a somewhat functional project, therefore winning him a ton of emotional brownie points with charlie, but he wouldn't have that opportunity at all here because i really don't think there's anything he could offer charlie that vox isn't already providing (or wouldn't be willing to START providing if it meant spiting alastor).

however. presuming instead that alastor is not at the hotel to protect or look after charlie, or help her project succeed (since these would already be satisfied by vox), it'd be fascinating if instead alastor comes back after seven years and immediately antagonizes vox into losing his shit and making charlie go "ooookay! i'm gonna have to put my therapy techniques in action because vox is clearly not over his situationship." and that's how her and alastor meet. i think she knows about the alastor thing but hadn't really seen what the problem was before he came back; everyone in hell has enemies after all, and a little healthy rivalry never hurt anyone, but seeing it in action is totally different. after the third time vox plunges the city into darkness because alastor called him an insecure freak on air she's like umm. we might need to talk about this.

she's super worried about vox because she's never seen him this upset about anything before. vox is relapsing hard into his paranoid-obsessive shit that he'd worked on really hard in the seven years alastor has been away, and now it's all rushing back and threatening to ruin everything he's built—but also, his sorta girlfriend princess independent contractor person (???) is now insisting he try to "make amends" and "practice healthy emotional regulation" and "please stop brooding over your pit of sharks with a bottle of tequila i'm really nervous about you falling in and electrocuting yourself even though i know you're waterproof, come watch a movie with me instead?" and he can't decide whether he resents it or appreciates it (both. it's both).

maybe having charlie around to redirect him and encourage healthier outlets for his anger, unlike how val and vel normally handle his radio demon bullshit, DOES actually get him to calm down a little bit. maybe even enough to reluctantly agree to supervised counseling sessions with alastor, because fucking dammit charlie has gone behind his back to talk to al about repairing their broken friendship and he was so excited, vox, you should've seen him, he practically insisted on having me arrange a meeting, i think he really regrets how things ended between you two and wants to do better, please just give it a chance?? cue the worst couple's counseling session in the universe with vox stiff as a board and shaking with repressed rage in his seat while alastor sips tea demurely across from him and asks oh-so-politely how him and charlie met, and isn't this such a charming little affair, and ooh, redemption? how interesting! charlie is eating this the fuck up, overjoyed at the thought of meeting TWO overlords interested in her plan while vox can't do anything about it but seethe and fantasize about shooting alastor in the face when charlie's back is turned.

this actually sort of turns into vox feeling protective over charlie completely without meaning to, because he knows alastor isn't being genuine, he knows he has ill intentions, and vox has invested too much time and energy and honest commitment into both charlie and her dreams to let fucking alastor destroy it all by taking advantage of her desperate need for validation. only vox gets to capitalize on her daddy issues, dammit. but there's real affection there too, reluctant and uncomfortable as he is with its existence, and it's making it extremely difficult for him to handle alastor's Everything without betraying the fact that he's become emotionally compromised and isn't just looking out for his business interests.

charlie, meanwhile, thinks she's going to get to kill two birds with one stone here: she can help vox get over / assuage a broken relationship that's clearly causing him a lot of distress, and she can rope another influential overlord into endorsing her project, which prods the door open that much further for her to enact real change in hell. but alastor isn't the same kind of monster as vox, and she might be a little in over her head this time—because she just can't stop herself from having faith in people's better natures, even when every indication is pointing the other way. it's a kind of earnest and willful naivete that's like blood in the water to people like alastor and vox. at least she knows—she hopes—vox would hesitate now. she can't really say the same for al. either way, she's going to keep trying, and it's really a race between charlie's ability to infect people with soft mushy friendship emotions by double-bluffing their manipulative plots and alastor's ability to pry people open like clamshells and inflict horrifyingly intimate betrayals on them.

(hint: charlie always wins the long-game. there's only so many times you can sarcastically banter about your feelings over scones with your archrival and your girlfriend supervising before you start actually making breakthroughs and unwillingly understanding each other. charlie has weaponized "ironically committing to the bit too hard" in her favor and it works everyyy time)

[now-that-i-saw-you]

2023 recap

I've lived a thousand lives this year. I also read around 40 books, watched 17 shows, 34 movies and listened to 40,214 minutes of music and I'm gonna narrow them all down to top 3 favorites of each category.

Music

1. Midnights

I'm a swiftie forever and ever so best believe whatever album Taylor released it's gonna be my favorite album ever, but Midnights is exceptionally good. It's no surprise that most songs on my top 5 most-played are from Midnights (and the only one that isn't is seven). This is my AOTY and I want to personally thank Taylor for writing You're On Your Own, Kid.

2. Stick Season

My sixth most-played song was Dial Drunk and I think it was just a couple of streams away from entering the top. The rest of the album is just as good and as poignant. It's so folklore-esque and I adore a good story that makes me forget about my problems.

3. Good Ridddance

Did you guys know Gracie Abrams is fucking excellent? I listened to Good Riddance and it was amazing and then I listened to her earlier work and they were also amazing. Good Riddance is for girls in their 20s who feel like they mess everything up (it's so evermore-coded).

Books

1. All For The Game

I read a lot of great books this year but this is probably the only one I've been properly obsessed with. Every single word in these books made me cry, it just made me feel so much; angry, sad, happy, but mainly hopeful.

2. She Who Became The Sun

This is objectively the best book I read this year. It's eloquent and complex and interesting and deals with subjects like gender and sexuality in such a fine, delicate way. I wanted to savour every moment with this book, read every word slowly so I could properly understand it. Ouyang is up there with Adam Parrish and Lyra Silvertongue in my Favorite Characters List.

3. Conversations With Friends

This book made me feel seen, while deeply hurting me. Turns out I kinda like the Miscommunication trope and I think it's mostly because I love it when characters feel like real people and nothing is more real than not saying what you should or saying the wrong thing.

TV Shows

1. Succession

I came to realize that what makes me love a show/book is mostly the characters. I love complicated characters that feel like real people. I love it when I can't decide whether I hate or love a character. Even my least favourite characters (Logan and Tom) were well-written and had a very satisfying storyline. I did not understand a single thing they said when talking about finance (at least I learned what a Bear Hug is...sorta) and that didn't stop me from enjoying the show and following the plot and to me that shows how entertaining it was.

2. Better Call Saul

Everyone should watch this show. This is one of the greatest corruption arcs I've ever seen on TV and Jimmy is an excellent protagonist, I love the way the writers build his character's arc and his relationship with people around him, mainly his brother but also Kim because their relationship was amazing. They were so cute and doomed by the narrative. Personally, I enjoyed every season and wasn't bored at any point. This show was done with so much love and you can feel it.

3. Totally Completely Fine

I love it when I stumble on a show because I have nothing else to watch and it turns out to be a favourite. Totally Completely Fine has everything: Humour and wit, discussing important, sensitive topics in a very appropriate manner, and an incredibly real sibling relationship. The show gives a voice and empathy to the eldest siblings, the youngest and the middle child and I'm never getting over "you took all the air."

Please watch it because I want a second season.

Films

1. The Whale

Idk if this a controversial opinion or not but I found this film very moving. To me it's a story about healing and forgiveness being a possibilty for everyone. I really felt and cared for the main character.

2. El Camino

The Breaking Bad writers are just very good at their job. I love Jesse and I love this additional story to the universe.

3. Loving Vincent

The entire film was made by oil painting. How can I not include this? It's a beautiful film telling the story of Vincent Van Gogh's death. I encourage everyone to watch it.

[maxinemilespod]

Alright then. I've gotten quite a few questions from you lot--some of which are very strange--so I guess I'll just go ahead and answer them. If you didn't ask a question and think of one after reading through this, you can keep it to yourself.

From @izzybutt

What’s a perfect day look like for you?

Any time spent outdoors marks a good day. But I'm not going to simply sit on my porch and look at the trees. I like building things and I like hunting and, when the occasion calls for it, other outdoor sports, though my prime years for that sorta thing has passed. If it ends with a nice steak and a good book, I'm a contented man.

We’ve heard that Riley was supposed to do some work around your home. What sort of work was it?

That he did--he helped me out around my property this summer. He's a good boy and I hope...well. I hope wherever he is, he's alright. Riley was interested in learning some craftsmanship, so I taught him how to do some house repairs, and started some woodworking instruction as well. He's still pretty young to have the kind of steady hand you need for the more detailed stuff, but I think he's got promise. And it was helpful to have someone with his youth to climb up on the roof and what-not--my knees can't take that anymore.

How do you get along with your neighbors? Ever have any issues with them?

Oh, we get along fine. There's been the odd disagreement here or there--it happens when you live alongside the same folks for so long. It's usually the kids of the neighborhood who cause trouble. It can be frustrating, but I understand that kids will be kids and as long as they don't get into anything too serious, I'm willing to cut them some slack. So long as everyone tries their best to keep to their site of the fence, I'm good.

What do you do for work? Does it pay well? And what do you do for fun?

I used to have my own contracting business, but the need for something of its scope shrank in the last few years. Now I make do with odd jobs here and there--the de factor repairman in most of Hastings.

As far as leisure, I woodwork, read, and hunt.

How long have you lived in Hastings? Do you like it?

I've lived in Hastings my whole life and wouldn't think about living anywhere else. It suits all my needs just fine and I've learned every nook and cranny of it and know most of the folks who live here, so I rarely have to deal with surprises.

From @nocluewhatshappening

What's the worst thing that's happened to you?

I've been lucky in my life compared to a lot of folks. I still have my health and my home and that's what matters. It's no use to linger on the past.

Good day! Have you ever had "secret" phone calls with Mayor Hal?

I don't know what you're getting at here, but I've had plenty of phone calls with Hal through the years. Far as I know, no one's been wiretapping us, so they've all been private.

From anonymous:

We’ve heard that the Mayor is a man who enjoys his butterscotch. Do you have a sweet tooth as well? How do you feel about candy bars? Like Big Hunk, or Milky Ways, or Charleston Chews?

That he does--I'll never understand why he spends so much money on sweets. I'm not one for mainstream manufactured candy, but I do like to partake in salt water taffy when I find myself by the sea.

Do you have $700 I can borrow?

What do you need seven hundred dollars for? I'm not in the habit of giving money to strangers for not reason.

What’s with the gnomes?

They're whimsical. I like that.

You’ve lived in Hastings for a while. Is there anything you can tell us about the key figures in town? The Mayor, the Archer family, the Sheriff?

Oh, sure, I know about all the folks who live here. Hal and I grew up side by side--he works very hard to keep this town safe and prosperous, and I respect that, even if you couldn't find two people from the same time and place who are more different than me and Hal. The Archers have been around even longer than I have and I can't say I'm too broken up about only one of them sticking around. They've brought a lot of business to Hastings through the years, but they're not my sort of people. The Sheriff's newer to me, but seems like a good lad.

Some have seen you coming and going at erratic hours, with suspicious items and equipment. Where are you going? What are you doing?

Who's saying this? I don't much like the idea that folks are watching my comings and goings, especially at night. I have insomnia from time to time, and often go out to work on woodworking projects or take a drive. I don't see how that's anyone's business.

We’ve heard from various sources that you didn’t always live alone. What can you tell us about that?

That's true. If you've got "sources" who have told you that, I'm sure they can fill you in on the rest.

Do you have any family in the area?

A coupla cousins still live over in Gorham. I don't talk to them all that much.

Hi Mr. Beatty! What is your favourite type of tea?

In the mornings, I like a strong cup of Irish breakfast and in the evening, I very much enjoy some strawberry tea or the like.

Kids from the neighborhood said they need to interview folks who have lived in Hastings for more than thirty years for a school project. I'm one of those people. I guess I could answer some questions.

[qqueenofhades]

You're going to think I'm such a weirdo because you're my go-to person for whether particular British monarchs were gay, but I have another question along those lines. Was Queen Anne in a lesbian relationship with Sarah Churchill? And if not, was she gay? I read one book that explained she wasn't "because she hadn't heard of it." Needless to say, I didn't finish it.

Ahaha. We’ve all gotta be known for something, right?

Short answers to both your questions: No and no, but also in both cases sorta, and which reflects a really fascinating entry point into a discussion of the female side of seventeenth/eighteenth-century LGBT culture. (Seriously, guys, the eighteenth century was HELLA GAY. I’ve written about the male side of it, but there is just as much or more to look at from the female. It’s also why you should continue to laugh at Certain Unnamed Persons telling you gay people did not exist before the 1960s.)

Anyway, so, Anne. As girls, both she and her sister Mary (the future Queen Mary II) had a passionate attachment to an older woman, Frances Apsley, and wrote letters to her that reflect this romantic imagining. (p.1648-49). The thirteen-year-old Mary addressed the twenty-two-year-old Frances as “my dearest dear husband” and called herself “your faithful wife, loyal to your bed […] how I dote on you, oh I am in raptures of sweet amaze, when I think of you I am in ecstasy.” In fact, when Anne began her own correspondence with Frances, Mary was jealous of her/seemed to have viewed her sister as a romantic rival for Frances’ affections. In their letters, Anne cast herself and Frances as star-crossed lovers from the play Mithridates, and there was an atmosphere of unabashed hedonism and sexual liberty at the Restoration court of Charles II. The girls were mostly kept away from this, but there were plenty of plays, novels, etc that centered around themes of female same-sex desire. Eighteenth-century English literature (see p. 261-62) had all kinds of exploration of it, and indeed reflects a vernacular for LGBT relationships arguably more detailed than what we have today (if by nature pejorative): “sodomite” and “molly” were the terms for the active and passive partner in a male homosexual relationship, and “sapphic” and “tommy” were the equivalents for a female homosexual relationship. (But of course, I forgot, we didn’t have LGBT people before the 1960s.) 

What Valerie Traub calls “the renaissance of lesbianism in early modern England” wasn’t just a literary phenomenon either. The habit of women sharing beds at all level of society, from working class to noblewomen, and the usually all-female social circle of young women offered a convenient environment for practical explorations of the kind of passionate desire seen above. At least one contemporary commentator had no problem with it (see p. 54) and viewed it in pragmatic terms:

Calling himself “neither their censor nor their husband,” Brantôme maintains that “unmarried girls and widows may be excused for liking such frivolous and vain pleasures and preferring to give themselves to each other thus and so get rid of their heat than to resort to men and be put in the family way and dishonored by them, or to have to get rid of their fruit.” As for the homoerotic exploits of married women: “the men are not cuckolded by it.”

In other words, female same-sex activity might not be optimal, but it’s essentially harmless, preferable to unwanted pregnancies, illicit abortions, or the spoiling of marriage prospects. And since everyone knows (according to bountiful eighteenth-century medical wisdom) that women are “hot” and need to relieve their humors with sex, lesbianism (though it wasn’t yet called that) was fine as an option. This of course was not the only view on it, but it does absolutely make it the case that yes, Anne (and other women of her class and era) would have heard of it. (Seriously, do these Str8 Historians just… assume that nobody ever mentioned same-sex relations/desire/literature, because gay people are “so modern” or… what? I’m baffled. On that note, Emma Donoghue’s “Passions Between Women: British Lesbian Culture 1668-1801″ is also a recommended read.)

Anyway, back to Anne and Mary themselves. It’s highly unlikely that their ardor toward Frances Apsley ever went beyond letters, and Mary did not have another relationship with a woman of the same intensity; after a very rocky start to her 1677 marriage to William of Orange, she fell quickly in love with him and devoted herself to him. However, Anne continued to have the same sort of passionate attachments to women, including that to Sarah Jennings, later Lady Churchill, the Duchess of Marlborough. Sarah is a fascinating historical lady for many reasons, and through her relationship with Anne over several decades, was able to exert considerable influence and prestige. She was a strong-willed, well educated, politically ambitious, and formidable woman, and I think the assessment of her relationship with Anne in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (login needed for full text) is essentially correct:

Anne wasemotionally vulnerable and always depended very much upon her near circle offriends; Sarah wasthe closest of these. Anne wasromantically, but platonically, in love with Sarah, who, for her part, understood very well theimmense value of her relationship with the princess. So close did Anne feel to Sarah that from about 1691 she insisted thatthe aliases Mrs Morley and Mrs Freeman be used between them, to overcomeany undue feeling of formality when in private. Although Sarah eventually found the princess’sattentions irritating in their childlike ardour, she responded with genuineaffection, but not with love. She later wrote that she had little in commonwith Anne; she usedher periods of exclusion from the court to widen her reading, including Shakespeare, Dryden, Milton, Montaigne, and Seneca, whereas Anne remained stubbornly non-intellectual. Nonethe less, their political interdependence and genuine affection kept theirpersonal relationship alive.

I would say in my view this is about right. Anne was definitely in love with her, while Sarah liked her, but saw the overall value in being attached to the princess (later queen). They fell out over differing political opinions (Sarah was a Whig, Anne was a Tory) and both had devoted relationships with their husbands. Sarah’s was John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, the statesman, political player, and hero of the War of Spanish Succession, and Anne’s was Prince George of Denmark. Sarah and Churchill had seven children, while Anne had at least seventeen pregnancies by George, but only one living son (William, Duke of Gloucester, who died at the age of eleven).

George has generally gotten a bad rap as a total unambitious dullard, and there has been some attempt to portray Anne and Sarah as lovers while Anne was unavoidably saddled with George and only kept having sex with him in hopes of a Stuart heir, which I think is both inaccurate and unfair to George. He had almost no political ambition at all and was absolutely happy to let his wife rule and be queen and to support her decisions, which was the reverse of Anne’s sister Mary and her husband William (Anne’s immediate predecessors). William refused to let Mary be crowned as sole queen, even though Mary and Anne were both daughters of James II and the hereditary right was Mary’s (for her part, Mary refused to countenance rulership without William and never wanted it much, but accepted it in the name of the Protestant cause/saving England from Catholic monarchy under her father). So by the time of Anne’s reign (1702-1714) it was still not at all negotiated how exactly a new (female) constitutional monarch, post-1689 and Bill of Rights, would rule by herself, but Anne did pretty much that. She didn’t have constitutional strife, she took England from the chaos and civil/religious wars/Commonwealth/etc of the seventeenth to its emergence as a major world power in the eighteenth, and George was a-okay with all of this. He declared that “I am her Majesty’s subject, I will do naught but what she commands me,” and they adored each other. George’s death in 1708 absolutely devastated Anne and was one of the reasons that snapped her fraught relationship with Sarah, as one observer wrote:

[George’s death] has flung the Queen into an unspeakable grief.She never left him till he was dead, but continued kissing him the very momenthis breath went out of his body, and ‘twas with a great deal of difficulty my Lady Marlborough prevailedupon her to leave him.

Sarah and Anne’s relationship had been steadily deteriorating over political differences, Sarah’s domineering personality, and Anne’s affection for a new female favorite, Abigail Masham. Indeed, Anne’s Whig opponents (and Sarah herself) fanned rumors that Anne and Abigail’s relationship was that of lovers, including by scandalous poetry (see pp. 157-8):

Whenas Queen Anne of great RenownGreat Britain’s Sceptre sway’dBesides the Church, she dearly lov’dA Dirty Chamber-Maid��.

As Traub points out, Sarah’s accusations are more likely motivated by jealousy at losing her position as favorite to Abigail, and Anne herself never forgave Sarah for insinuating lesbianism (as in the physical act of it, rather than romantic feelings) in their relationship. Again as Traub comments: “It was the result of a transformation in discourse, whereas intimate female friends, including matronly monarchs with seventeen pregnancies behind them, could be interpreted as purveyors of sexual vice.” In other words, the accusations flung at Elizabeth I, the woman ruling alone in the late 16th-early 17th century, had been that she had inappropriate male lovers; now the charges against Anne, a century later, were of inappropriate female lovers, and reflected, as discussed above, the emergence of this entire construction and visibility of same-sex female desire. Accusations or intimations of homosexuality were nothing new to the Stuarts; both William and Mary (especially William) had been painted as having inappropriately intimate same-gender relationships, and William’s Jacobite enemies had likewise gotten considerable mileage out of pamphlets portraying him as a “sodomite.” (Which, again, they had political reasons to do, so there is that, but it’s fascinating, if unfortunate, that this had now become the preferred currency of political slander, as that was not necessarily the case before).

Overall, Anne certainly had strong emotional relationships to women for her entire life, and in some cases, those relationships were accused of being explicitly sexual (reflecting a culture that was, as noted, really hella gay for both women and men, and this gayness was both accepted and reviled in turn) but for the benefit of her enemies (Sarah’s unflattering depiction of Anne was basically accepted as fact until the late 20th century). So in one sense, Anne and Sarah were in a long relationship that ended badly, and Anne was absolutely biromantic. Sex (or the lack of it) is not the only defining marker of a relationship, but if we mean a lesbian relationship in the modern sense of the word (where they are both romantic and sexual partners) then no. Anne and George were known for being devoted and faithful to each other (as noted, not at all the norm in the Stuart court) and Anne’s seventeen pregnancies make it clear they had sex throughout their marriage. Anne herself took the accusation of physical lesbianism with Abigail Masham as an unforgivable slight on Sarah’s part; i.e. the feelings or the rhetoric were acceptable to her, but the action was not. We have no reason to think she was being a hypocrite about this, or willfully concealing/ignoring it. Because, surprise! People’s attitudes and identities toward sexuality are complicated and shifting and partial and evolving, and conditioned by class, time, place, religion, society, etc.

Anyway, since this is another novel: we could definitely classify Anne as queer in the modern definition (having romantic feelings/romantic-if chaste-involvements with women, but lovingly and faithfully married to her husband who was her sexual partner), but probably not actively and certainly not exclusively lesbian. She was traditional in her views and devoted to the Protestant church (and to George), so yes. I would classify her as biromantic with a preference for/sexual activity with men, but whose long relationships with women were both politically and personally influential and absolutely deserve attention within the context of eighteenth-century LGBT history and literature.

[rip-a-dip-dip-you-potato-chip]

will this be a legit tumblr fic series? no, absolutely not I just felt like writing something. Everything else will be bullet points since I can knock out like, two to three seasons in one go.

Shannon (Shan) Maywether.

Oc introduction P1

This takes place in between season 1 episodes 10 and 11 in like a mini sode I like to call "Eye of Unfairness" its a play off the fact Shan means unfortunate and unfair in Scottish (something I recently learned)

Also feel free to change out Shannon's/Shans name for your OC if you want to! I don't mind! Keep in mind this fic was made with Shannon's personality and physical condition in mind. I also wouldn't mind feed back!

Third person POV

A day had passed since the reveal of the green ninja. It was a surprise to learn that Lloyd, a kid, was the supposed chosen one. It was shock to, well everyone on board the Bounty.

It was Wednesday, so Shannon was tasked with cooking for the day. She stood, cutting vegetables for the side dish she was wiping up alongside the English breakfast she had made. Her mind was filled with ‘what if's’. As an older sister to 10 younger brothers, 4 of which that happen to be around Lloyd’s age it was startling for her. There was no telling when the 'Final Battle' will take place and what would happen during it, took the focus from the sharp edge of the blade she was holding.

"ow, damn it-" dropping the knife on the cutting board as she cursed. Bringing the cut wound to her lips she sucked on it as she searched for the bandages they kept in the kitchen just incase if kind of thing happened.

After finding bandages and bandaging the cut Shannon finished fixing up the salad. Just as she set the freshly tossed salad on the table the other residents of the ship walked in.

"Morning Shannon" "Mornin' Zane"

The other ninja mumbled a good morning as well as they took their set's at the table and began eating the breakfast prepared.

"Hay Shannon what happened to your hand?" Lloyd asked looking at the older girls hand.

"Oh, accidently cut myself." She replied placing her coffee cup down looking over at the small blonde. She ruffled his hair earning a ‘stop it’ from the boy, and chuckled at how messy his hair was now. 

The rest of breakfast went without much problem seeing as how everyone was still riding down from the adrenaline that was yesterday. It all seemed peaceful still Garmadon walked in.

Shannon's POV

Garm walked in, late as usual. And as usual we where all kinda put off with what he was eating. Dark matter grubs I think there called? Never payed much attention to this sorta thing really. I just can't get the truth we uncovered yesterday. Lloyd being the green ninja. Its going to hard for him I can tell.

Letting out an tried sigh I got up with my now empty plate and made my way over to the sink.

"Shannon, the Bounty is landing in a bit. You wanna come run groceries with me?" Nya asked as I passed her.

"Uhh, sure just tell me when you're planning on leaving." "You got it!"

____

Third person POV

As stated by Nya the Bounty had landed not long after they finished washing the dishes. The boys were outside training. Shannon seated cross-legged on the steps just watching with Wu. Garmadon had disappeared back into the ship, probably his room for the time being. Lloyd was hanging around the place too, inside reading. And Nya was getting ready to head out.

It wouldn't be for another 10 minutes till Garmadon emerged from where ever he was.

And unfortunately for everyone he was at the steps of the ship leading to where the ninja were training, and felt like causing some chaos.

Now it's not the man's fault, he has the venom of an equally evil snake brooding in his veins.

He knew he couldn't mess with the ninja, it was like a principle thing seeing as how they where tolerating his presence on the ship. Wu literally came to what might have been hell to most folks and brought him back to Ninjago to save his son. Nyas off limits, and as much as he wants to, his son, Lloyd is probably still shaken from not just the green ninja thing, but the snakes as well.

Which left Shannon.

The young lady had made it clear since there first interaction, that she held nothing against the dark lord. In fact she even played along with his bullshit if she felt like it. Best part, she can hold her own too. She may not train with the boys often but she knows spinjitzu, and has proven to be a good fighter, Shans just lax and a go with the flow kind of person.

With that in mind, he decided to make a comment.

"Not going to change?"

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Shannon questioned, she didn't bother to look at him, as she took a swig from her tea that Wu had generously offered.

"With the amount of purple you wear you might get mistaken for a snake"

"Phff, at least I don't look like a took a bath in tar"

With that, a swift yet not powerful smack to the back of the teens head was earned. It was supposed to be playful, harmless but as the force of the hit passed through the youngers head, the sound of heavy glass hitting wood made itself known. This caused the boys to stop and turn there attention back over to the steps on the deck. As Shannon looked up, it became evidently clear she was missing her right eye.

Panic ensues.

Jay, Cole, Kai, and Zane screamed at the fact there friends eye was now just gone. Garmadons just standing there questioning if he put more power than he initially thought he did. Wu went wide eyes as he stared at the girl next to him, seeing small streams of blood leak out the now empty eye socket. Lloyd and Nya came running out to only to scream themselves.

With a sigh Shannon picked up her Eye and monical that had fallen.

"Guys, chill out!" She yelled.

"CHILL OUT! SHAN YOU EYE FEEL OUT OF YOUR HEAD" the Blue ninja yelled. Pointing at the eye in the Burnetts hand.

"Its a glass eye bolts for brain's" Shan retorted.

"Glass eye?" Cole repeated.

"Yes, a glass eye! Why did you think I wore a monocle instead of regular glasses? Sure I can't see jack with my right eye but it acts as a shield of sorts!"

"I-im so sorry, are you okay Shannon?" Garmadon asked.

"Ya, im fine" she answered.

____

After that everyone had gone inside. Zane grabbed the medical kit to disinfect and put a temporary patch over Shannon's eye. Garmadon had taken the glass eye and with the recommended disinfectant Shannon just so happen to have on her, put the bloody thing in a black glass cup filled with warm water and the disinfectant liquid mixture, to clean it. He may be the bad guy, but he's never really hurt anyone to the point they lose something like an eye.

Once done he gave the glass to Shannon who was now sitting in the armchair.

"So, umm how'd you uh- you know lose you eye?" Kai asked weirly, he feared there might be some sort of trauma along with it and didn't want to trigger it.

"You don't have to tell us!" Nya quickly added.

"Na its fine" Shannon said as she waved off there concerns.

"I was about seven when it happened. Home invasion. The guy had a gun. I had heard sound from downstairs and curiosity got the best of me. I think your all smart enough to piece together what happened next" she said. Everyone kinda relied back at the mear mental image.

"Yikes" Jay, shivered at the thought of it.

"I mean it’s not all that bad I guess. Altho I didn't have a say in whether or not I got a fake eye"

"What do you mean you didn't get a say in it?"

"It’s exactly as I say it is. When I woke up my depth perception was crap, but I had both my eyes. It wasn't until the doctor told me my parents were admit about me having one"

"So are, you like going to be ok or?"

"I'll be fine green bean, if anything this was a good thing, means I need a new one. Thankfully I shot my brother text about one lot long ago." Shannon said dismissively

"Brother?" Wu questioned.

"Okay, Nya you ready to got out?"

"Ya but it can wait-" "I'm good, I swear Nya lets go" the older girl instead as she got up and dragged Nya out the ship for their planned outing. (She put the glass with the eye in the table as they left)

"Well that was, concerning" Cole said as the two girls disappeared.

____

It was around midday the girls were not back yet. Jay was still unnerved by the eye in the cup being in such an open area, moved it over to the kitchen counter. Training was cut short because of the incident. Wu taking into account not just the mental impact of one of his charges eyes popping up in front of them, but the buildup of stuff they'd been having to deal with since his absence. Besides when the girls get back they all need to talk of a plan to get the Fang Blades back from the Serpentine before they can awaken the Devourer. 

Wu and his brother where out front on the deck talking, it felt like forever to the two of them since they last spoke in such good terms. The guys (pluss Lloyd) where inside playing video games as a pass time. It wasn't long after when the sound of a car, a taxi, could be heard coming there way. As the taxi came to a stop the guys had logged off there game and stepped out to grate the return of the only two females on their team. 

But instead of the raven and green tipped brunette haired, a blond tipped brunette boy stepped out the vehicle (not before paying of course) and made his way over to the Bounty. 

“umm, dumb question since there aren't many flying ships around, but is this the Destiny's Bounty?” The Boy asked as he neared the ship. upon closer inspection the boy was wearing a leather jacket with a white under shirt, and jeans with a pair of black converse. He had a mailman bag slung over his shoulder. 

“ya it is, what bring you all the way out here though?” Cole answered as he crossed his arms. attempting to look menacing which seemed to be working.   

“uh, I came to drop something off for my sister, Shannon?” The boy answered.

“Shannon, as in the monocle waring Shan?” Jay asked 

“yes! that one!” 

“Cool, Cool... wanna climb on board?” Kai asked him.

“Would I!” The boy, Shannon’s brother made is way up on the Bounty.

“By the way, what you name” Zane asked as the brunet dorded.

“Shane, Shane Maywather and might I say it’s a pleasure to meet the guys my sister has been staying with after all this time.” He, Shane replied.

____

“wait, so let me get this straight” Cole stood with his hands on his head, clearly confused by what was said. 

Its been about an hour since Shane was let on borde and the guy could see why his sister liked it here so much.  

“there are 10 of you? including Shane makes 11″ Cole sated. Shane just nodded as he let the earth ninja racape what Shane had told them. Wu and Garmadon where in the kitchen intently listening to the conversation they were having.  

“yup, Shan and I are the oldest, there where are the quads; Jason, Mayson, Tyson, Carson.” He started again listing his younger siblings.

“Then the triplets; Asher, Carter and Xavier. Then the last set of twins; Franklyn and Merlyn” Shane finished. 

“No wonder Shannon can deal with us so well” Jay said looking astonished.

“ya she had to deal with 9 younger brothers and one older one” Kai remarked. Shane snickered before correcting him.

“Shannon is the oldest, in fact despite us being twins, she’s technically a year older than me.” 

“But isn't being twins, like two people being born on the same day?” Zane inquired.

“True, but you see, my mom had Shannon on december 31st 1995, at around 11:55pm, I then happened on january 1st 1996 at 00:02am in the morning” Shane explained.

“dude” Jay commented. Shane laghed.

“yup,Shannons the ‘big sister’ of the house” He said glancing about.  

“i'm surprised though, i though Shannon would have at least mentioned something about you guys to us” Lloyd pipped in. He enjoyed Shannons company she made him feel welcome. And when she caught him setting up the prank for Kai as his uncle had asked him to, she gave him some pointers on how to eviscerate Kai’s high score. Even took some pressure off him as she stayed in the room in anticipation for the fire ninja so they wouldn't get too suspicious. To learn Shan had several younger brothers, like Jay commented, meade scene in how she was not only dealt with them but was able to deal with his father so well.

“Honestly,it's do be expected. Because Shannons the oldest our parents are hard on her... We come from a fairly well of family to the point where money is more or less a play thing to our folks” Shane started, the ninja(pluss Loyd)went wide eyed.

“so you're saying you guys are rich?” Jay asked dumbfounded. Shane fidgeted with his fingers.

“Y-Ya pretty much. But Shannon, and our parents, they... They don't get along at all. For all i can remember, the only time i've ever had with Shan was when she wasn't in any of her classes or extracurriculars. They pushed her to be perfect, and at the same time pushed her away. Looking back there where countless arguments over a lot of what they where doing” Shane said looking down at his lap. 

“There was this one argument that just hit the nail in the head though, a couple years back, it was during dinner and our parents had invited a business associates family over. They had a son, about three years older then Shannon and I. Our parents had announced that he would be Shannons fiance and thighs went downhill fast” Looking up once more Shane let a had run though his hair as he relieved the memory. The guys were taken aback by this, seeing as how Shan was arguably one of the most level headed people they knew. 

“sounds stressful” Kai quipped not really knowing how to respond to that, bur as a brother to a sister himself he could understand the feeling of not wanting your sibling to do be forced into doing something they don't want to. 

“You don’t half of it” Shan said with a sigh. 

“After that, she stormed out never to be seen scene again. At least physically, she managed to keep contact with me, we talk but not as much as either of us would like...” He finished leaning back and letting the surprisingly soft couch engulf him. 

“I’m glad though,she deserves a break after everything” Shane commented.

“ya well if you call fighting an army of skeletons, snakes and eventually Garmadon a brake, then you my friend are in need of a vacation as well” Jay replied plopping down next to Shane with a dorky grin. The tenshin that had been building in Shane dissipated, yup he could really see why his sister liked it here so much. 

____

Dropping the topic of who much his and Shannon's parents where that talked about other random things. It was a little bit later when the girl got back.  The two where catting about, something girl related when they walked into the main room of the Bounty. 

“Hey! Welcome back! And guess how came to visit?!” Jay sang, gesturing to Shane who was seated next to him. Shannon looked over at her bother in shock she thought-

"Good to see you again Sister!~" Shane said as be bolted form where he was sitting to envelope Shannon in a hug. As he did Shannon dropped the bags she was holding, seemingly shocked that her blood brother was here. 

“Shane?” She breathed, then hugged him back, leaning into it. 

After a bit the two separated.

“It’s good to see you again Shane! How have you been?” “Good, good, what about you? what happened to your eye? Where is it?” 

Shan laughed a little and shook her head.

“There was an accident this morning, Garmadon hit the back of my head and it just popped out” Shane stood still. Taking in the information. Once complete he turned and tried to lunged to where Garmadon was, if it wasn't for Shannon having grabbed him in that split second. He probably would have gone into a full on fist fight with the dark lord. 

“Lemme go! I'm going to eviscerate him!” Shane hissed struggling against his sisters grip. Thank the First Spinjitzu Master that Shannon trained with the boys ocashinaly. 

“Calm down little brother it was an accident” “Like HELL”  

The two go back and forth a little more till Shane camls down. Garmadon rightfully spooked at the fact that this, well mannered, e-boy looking, kid was threatened to ‘eviscerate’ him. 

“Fine, I won’t attack him, doesn't mean I won’t like it” Shane said mutting that last bit. 

“Seriously (1)Balach Milis, if you applied this anger properly, you wouldn't have to deal with what Eric and Lizzibeth right?” Shannon said as she let him go. picking up the grocery bags, and placed them on the counter. 

“(2)Flùr Gaoithe, you know when it comes to Mama and (3)Athair I can’t do do that!” He complained like a small child. 

“You really need to grow a backbone” Shane said shaking her head.

___ 

Things had settled down since then.  

“It’s getting late, I should get going, I have band practice tomorrow and need the rest.” “boo, skip and just stay here for the week” “Flùr Gaoithe” “Balach Milis“ 

With that The younger twin got up, gave his sister the new glass eye she had asked for, said his goodbyes, shot Garmadon one last glar, and left. 

“Your brother seems like a nice person” Gramadon said looking over the the greet tipped girl. 

“Ya, he’s awesome. Wish he was less of a pushover tho” 

Jay feeling thirsty, walked over into the kitchen. He spotted the black glass cup, completely having forgot about the eye inside it. Now you can't really see anything at the bottom. And Jay, in his infinite wisdom, thinking it was just some random cup of random water that had been left on the kitchen counter, and drank from it. 

“OH GOD” 

 “Did Jay drink from the eye glass?” Lloyd asked his uncle who was watching from the blue ninja form the table.

“He drank from the eye glass” Wu confirmed. The others erupted into a fit of laughter and giggles. 

__________

 (1)Balach Milis - Sweet boy  

(2)Flùr Gaoithe - Wind flower 

(3)Athair - dad

this was translated using google translate, the language being Scottish Gaelic. I know Ninjago was based off of asian culture. But like I said, Shan it scottish for unfortunate and unfair. Also nothing in the lore of the show explicitly states that Ninjago is the only continent on the planet. 

I HC that there are different parts of the world. its safe to say Ninjago is the main land where a lot of the exciting things happen, but across who knows how long away there are different countries. And Shannon’s family like immigrated to Ninjago, during it’s early years where big contributors and financial support, in building the city. 

but ye this is a mini sode, i came up with. criticism is always welcome! I will be doing bullet notes for Shan and Melody, and maye Gold to since i have an active fic about her that i haven't updated in, forever but yaaaaa. 

till next text post i guess lol                          

[fakingitfanfiction]

Her Latest Flame Chapter 16: Seven Days

Previous Chapters

Day One

Farrah does her best not to wake you, but you still hear her poke her head in sometime around seven. You can feel her eyes on you, burning a worrying, ‘I don’t know how to fix this because I don’t even know what this is’ motherly hole into your back and you resist, just barely, the urge to tug your blanket up over your head or toss a throw pillow in her general direction.

And yes, you know that's not why they’re called throw pillows. Lauren taught you something, after all.

(Clearly, she taught you nothing about dealing with your problems or facing them like an actual adult and yes, you’re still in the early stages of this, so you are going to blame everyone else.)

Your mother shuts the door quietly behind her and you roll over onto your back and, yup, that was a mistake (can’t blame Lauren for this one) (not that you won’t try to find a way) cause all it does is give you a good view of your ceiling, one you haven’t had since the last time Sabrina was here - and just fuck your brain, cause thinking about your ex, your other ex, doing that to you is exactly the way to start with the healing - and all that view is is just a good view of those stars.

Not the real ones. Farrah hasn’t gone totally nuts and installed a skylight or something, though she has started remodeling some spots - like adding a breakfast bar, which unfortunately is not a real bar - and you won’t be surprised when she gets to your room eventually and oh, you are just so fucking stalling right now.

Totally Farrah’s fault. She’s the one who gave the kitchen a makeover.

So…back to the view of the not the real stars. No, they’re the fake kind and not just the regular fake kind, but the glow in the dark and in your heart kind cause you and Karma hung the damn things and see? This is the problem, the problem with living in your head.

Karma hung the stars. You loved Karma. You always knew you loved Karma but then you went and kissed Karma and realized that you loved Karma. But Karma didn’t love you like that, she loved someone else, so what did you do?

You pined endlessly and got jealous and mopey and pulled some ridiculous scavenger hunt shit that you claimed wasn’t a desperate attempt at showing her how right you were for each other but even the Queen of the Oblivious saw through that bullshit and yes, you know that isn’t the fucking point cause that isn’t what you did (well, it is, but it isn’t the thing you did that you’re thinking of now, the one that’s the issue now, the one you’re trying so hard to avoid saying right fucking now.)

What you did was you went and found yourself someone else to love.

And there it is. There she is, as if she ever left except, oh, wait, she did. But she came back, sort of, and then you left and you’ve just kept right on leaving over and over and over again in every way one person can.

So, yes, you managed - in about the span of two minutes, that would have been a good ninety seconds shorter if you hadn’t gone off on that perfectly good stalling tangent, not unlike the one you’re on right now - to take the stars on your ceiling that you saw every day for years without even once connecting them to Reagan and connected them to Reagan.

And so, day one ends before it even begins, as you roll back onto your side, tug that blanket up over your head, and hope that sleep finds you quicker this morning than it did last night.

Spoiler Alert: It doesn’t.

Day Two

Netflix and chill is much more fun when there’s some actual ‘chill’ involved and not when it’s you, on one end of the couch, and your mother on the other end, and then - in the end - you alone on the whole thing cause she has a date and doesn’t come back in until sometime past three and no, she doesn’t notice that you're still on the couch.

And no, you don’t notice that she’s walking a bit… side to side, shall we say?

(Oh, God, how you wish you didn’t notice.)

Day Three

You have a new appreciation for all the mornings Farrah said nothing to you about the night before. You used to think she didn’t know, that all the nights you stayed up too late (Karma) or out too late (Reagan) or had someone else stay in too late (Sabrina), that your mother was just blissfully ignorant.

And now… oh, how you understand ignorance and bliss and - even more - the idea of things you just can't unsee.

Like, for instance, your mother staggering down the stairs at half past eleven, smiling to herself, her hand wandering idly over the spot on her neck, the one that would be just a hair below the neckline of all but the most revealing of her tops and yes, that is what you’re going to refer to it as from now until the end of time (which you would appreciate hurrying the fuck up): 'the spot’.

The word 'hickey’ will never pass your lips. Or brain. Never. Never ever.

Farrah spots you, sitting at the kitchen table, eating your fourth bowl of whatever the fuck those bran / fiber / wheat / oats / bullshit flakes she had in the cupboard are (and your sixth doughnut out of the dozen you went to get, and if she hadn’t come in when she did, you so would have gone back for seven) and her hand just sort of… stops. It’s as if someone hit the pause button on the Mom Remote (much like the spoonful of oaty not-goodness in your hand slows to a dead crawl) and you have the urge to point out that pausing only makes it stand out more.

But, since you know (cause you looked in the mirror) that it’s hard to tell the bags under your eye from the bruise around it, you also know you’ve got no room to talk.

Farrah settles herself in the chair next to you - surprisingly close, but also a considerably shorter walk for her and she still seems to be having some trouble with that, which prompts a somewhat appreciative ’damn’ to pop into your brain, unbidden - and you slide your cup of coffee (it’s your third) (in the last twenty) toward her and she damn near inhales it in a way that almost makes you (briefly) concerned for the well being of parts of her date from last night, which only serves to remind you that your mother had a date (that went well, apparently) while you spent the night watching Jessica Jones and counting the number of camera angles that focused almost directly on her ass.

Counting. Not complaining.

She’s staring at you in this way that makes you nervous, that reminds you of all the times she wanted to say something (usually about… 'lesbians’) (always with the pause) (and the dramatic whisper) but couldn’t figure out the right way - or even just a sorta right way - to bring it up. You could let it go, and maybe you should, but you’ve said all of twenty-three words to each other since you’ve been home (you’ve counted) and the silence is starting to bug even you.

“Sophie,” you say, answering the question you know she wants to ask. “She punched me cause she found out I lied to her about something.”

Right. Something. Not someone. Nope.

“Must have been a pretty serious something,” Farrah says, standing and gingerly making her way to the coffee pot for a refill. “Did you steal something from her? Cheat off her on a test?”

Steal. Cheat. Oh, for fuck’s sake…

“I fucked her girlfriend.”

OK, so you could’ve done that a little… better. But, really, you had to watch your own mother do the walk of shame (with no shame and a twinkle in her eye and a soft, contented sigh with every step) last night. Making her choke on her second cup of California Roast is the least you can do.

“To be fair,” you say - which is the first and last time you’re going to use that word for this, “she was my girlfriend, first.”

Farrah leans against the counter and stares at you. You can see the wheels spinning in her head and imagine - just for the hell of it - that the word 'thruple’ is running around in her mind, like a little pornographic hamster on a wheel.

It’s the first real smile you’ve smiled in days.

“She was… is…” You realize, for the first time, that you can’t put a tense on whatever Sophie and Reagan’s relationship is and that just makes things like a million times worse. “Reagan,” you say. “The girlfriend. It was Reagan.”

Your mother nods, as if that just makes all the sense in the world and, really, it does. If, you know, you’re living in a bad teen drama or one of those fanfics people write on the Internet and no, you haven’t spent most of the morning reading the Harry Potter ones and definitely not the ones where Hermione and Ginny end up together (cause redhead and just… no) and probably not the few where Ms. Granger and Luna cast a 'spell’ on each other.

And you just actually thought 'cast a spell’. Thought it and didn’t wince from it and wondered, however briefly, if there was some spell, some magic words that might bring your fondest wishes to life.

Expecto Reaganum!

Yeah… no.

More coffee. You need more coffee. Or more sleep. Or more doughnuts.

Or, you know, to stop imagining Emma Watson naked. With you. And Reagan.

Now who’s hamster-thrupling?

Farrah drops back down in her chair and reaches in front of you, snagging a doughnut from the box. She takes an overly generous bite, and has to wipe a smudge of raspberry jelly from her chin with your napkin. “The only man I have ever really loved was your father,” she says and you can only thank your lucky stars that you weren’t taking a bite of those God awful flakes or you’d be the one choking. “The rest were nice and good and Bruce was… he should have been perfect. But he wasn't…”

“Him,” you say, even as you think 'her’.

She wasn't her.

Your mother nods, taking another long sip of her coffee. You don’t think she even knows how her thumb keeps rubbing the spot on her ring finger where her… well… one of her rings… used to be. “I regret that Bruce got hurt,” she says. “And I regret that poor Lauren got hurt even more. But I can’t ever regret being with your father. Even if I knew, all along, he’d always pick the job over me.”

She finishes off her doughnut and drains her coffee and leaves you there, sitting at the table, wondering what life lesson you’re supposed to take from that. And all you can think is that this clearly means the fanfic that is your life needs better writers. Maybe one of the Potter-heads can lend a hand.

Cast a fucking spell, indeed.

Day Four

When Farrah gets home from work, there’s an empty bottle of wine on the kitchen table next to two takeout bags from Chipotle, another barely a third still full box from the doughnut shop, your cell phone, and your laptop. It takes one look at the computer, the browser still open to a Google search for her to understand the wine and the eats.

How to erase drunken texts messages you wish you’d bneber sent

She figures - correctly - that 'bneber’ is supposed to be 'never’ and her heart breaks a little for you, as she also offers up a silent thank you to the man upstairs (or woman) (or half cracked out monkey scripting this shit) that, back in her day (stone tablets, chisels, and torches for lamps day) there were no text messages or voicemail.

Drunk dialing was bad enough.

Farrah checks in the living room and the bathrooms and your room and her own room but you’re nowhere to be found. But you still haven’t gone to campus to get your car, and she had hers all day so, though she knows she should probably worry, drunk walking is better than drunk driving and so there’s no panic, not just yet.

And when you wander in a couple hours later - with no fresh bruises and walking normally (if still slightly drunkenly) - and head straight to bed, she says nothing.

Turnabout being fair play and all that.

Still… she can’t help worrying, and after all those years of being the least involved parent in the history of parents, she feels a sense of… duty? Responsibility? Parental obligation?

Sure. All of those. And a massive side dish of guilty, mixed with dash of guilt, marinated in a sauce of guilt and flavored with just a smidge of regret and, as you’re about to learn, an all that mixed together Farrah is an 'I didn’t know what else to do and please don’t hate me, I was just trying to help you’ Farrah.

And when her first call goes straight to voicemail, she can only think of one other option and see, this is why you really shouldn’t leave your phone laying around.

You would have thought you’d have learned that particular lesson by now.

Day Five

There are days when you wish you stayed in bed.

This is not one of those days.

And that is only because this is a day when you do stay in bed. All day. Like all day. Save for three trips to the bathroom - which is a considerably smaller number than you thought you were going to have to make, given the all new and all star levels of drunk you were last night.

You even left a hair tie on your bedside table. What with Sophie not… around… someone was going to have to hold your hair back. Might as well be Mr. Elastic.

You try, unsuccessfully, not to think of how much that sounds like a guy Shane would kill to date and you can’t help laughing, which means you can’t help spending the next five minutes actively wishing you could either pass out, die, or be swallowed whole by your bed, anything that would stop the ice pick of pain slicing through the back of your left eye.

A quick roll onto your right side does nothing but shift the pain and yes, that clearly makes no actual medical sense, but in the four or five seconds it takes the pick to find your right eye, you feel just enough relief to not really care.

Nor do you really care that you’ve now officially realized that wine plus doughnuts plus chipotle plus more wine (Farrah only saw the second bottle) plus attempts at picking up waitresses with great asses (but really sub par hair) (sorry, Becky) while still drunk (like, epically) (like not sure how you walked) does not equal your proudest moment.

When Becky of the good (great) ass posts a picture of it on Facebook, that moment will sink even further down the list. Probably right behind telling Shane you don’t even like to look at your own vagina, but definitely still ahead of your toast at Farrah and Bruce’s wedding.

Oh, and you know, getting punched in the face in the egg place and yes, that rhymes and no, you’re not a poet who didn’t know it.

You’re a hungover and surprisingly sexually frustrated adolescent, and no, your actual age doesn’t change that one bit.

Not only did you not get laid, and not only did you make an utter boob out of yourself (and, you think, tried to grab Becky’s) but you’re pretty sure you can never go back to Huan Cho’s and, really, that might suck worst of all.

Their noodles are to die for.

But maybe - maybe - that’s for the best. After all, that was yours and Sophie’s place and you’re not sure who gets custody of the noodle joint in the divorce, but (after last night) you’re pretty sure who Haun and Cho (and yes, they’re two different people, you've met them), not to mention Becky, would all choose Sophie.

Hell, you’d choose Sophie.

You roll back to your left - three more seconds of sweet relief - and try not to well up over the loss of the best noodles in Austin and yes, you very much realize that that is so not what the tears would be for, but it’s easier to think about losing the noodles than it is thinking about losing the girl.

Girls.

Fuck all… you should just stay in bed.

And so you do.

Day Six

If there’s one thing you’ve learned over the last (almost) seven days, it’s this:

“I should not be allowed to own a cell phone.”

The pillow muffles most of your words, but Lauren speaks fluent Amy (it’s a skill) and even now, she somehow understands.

Your words. She understands your words. You? That’s an entirely different issue.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice crackling through the laptop’s crappy speakers and vibrating the sheet beneath you. “Because the phone is the problem.”

She has a point. Damn her.

“You didn’t see the texts,” you moan, lifting your head up just enough to make a tiny head tent out of your pillow. “They were… ugh… no words,” you say. “No fucking words.”

Now, see? There you go again. Lying (sort of.) Cause, really? There were words.

I miss you. (There’s three of them.)

It was all my fault, I know that. I soooooooooooooo know that. (Twelve more and no, extra 'ooooo’ doesn’t count double)

I don’t deserve you. (Four. And no, you very much don’t.)

And you don’t deserve me. And I mean that in the you don’t deserve to suffer the horrible horrible horrible fate of having me in your life, not in the way I don’t deserve you.

(Thirty-five.) (And she probably knew what you meant.)

You probably knew what I meant. (Six) (And you’re right. You so should not be allowed to own a phone.)

I’m so sorry. Sorrier than I’ve ever been for anything. Even sorrier than when I slept with Liam, which is probably not a thing to bring up right now, but you know me, open mouth, insert foot and oh, please tell me you’re not thinking of other things I’ve put in my mouth and oh, I’m just making it worse and I am so deleting this before I hit send.

(Seventy.) (And you didn’t.)

I hope someday you can forgive me and I hope someday my feelings won’t be such a problem for us and I just hope you know that you are the best part of my life and I really do love you and I hope that someday

Forty-six. And final. You never finished the thought both because the first bottle of wine had finally taken its toll and you passed out face first into your burrito (which is why you needed the second one) and because, really, you don’t know what you hope for someday.

“Forgiveness,” you mutter into the pillow. “A second chance, maybe. Her, back in my life, even if it isn’t like it was before.” If there’s one other thing you’ve learned in the last (almost) seven days, it’s that you hate the word 'before’. “Is that too much to ask?” you ask, peeking out from under the pillow to stare at Lauren on the screen “It is, isn’t it? It’s too much, I’m asking for too much.”

She seems to consider it for a long moment and you have a very brief (like only the 'br’ and not the 'ief’) moment of hope that, maybe, she’s going to say it’s not too much.

“It probably is too much.”

Fuck, Lauren. Way to kill a dream.

“But,” she says, “I don’t think that’s the real issue here.” You consider - briefly, again - slapping the button on the computer and disconnecting the call before she finishes her thought. “I think the bigger question is why did you send those to her.”

You say nothing. You can’t. There’s no good answer, no right answer, and no answer that won’t get you a half hour lecture from your little (in size only) sister.

“I think that’s what you need to think about, Amy,” she says, interpreting your long silence for confusion and she’s not entirely wrong. “Why did you send those messages to Sophie, and not to, you know, the woman you claim to be in love with?”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned over the last (almost) four years, it’s this:

Lauren’s usually (read: always) right.

Fuck.

Day Seven

Farrah does her best not to wake you, but you still hear her poke her head in sometime around seven.

Yes, you feel a sense of deja vu, of a pattern forming, of a fucking full on Groundhog Day scenario starting up.

You can feel her eyes on you, burning a worrying, 'I don’t know how to fix this because I don’t even know what this is’ motherly hole into your back, again, and this time, you don’t resist the urge and you do tug your blanket up over your head and burrow in. Resistance may be futile, but that doesn’t mean you can't try.

This time she doesn’t shut the door softly. She doesn’t, in fact, shut it at all, but you can hear her closing it over, hear the slight clink of the lock knocking against the plate. She takes a few short steps into you room and settles on the edge of your bed. You spidey-sense some sort of attempted mother-daughter moment coming on and, after the last one, you’re pretty sure all it’s going to do is bring up repressed memories of Farrah and your dad and their days of canoodling (such a great word) (almost as good as 'shenanigans’ though you prefer it for the little bit dirtier connotation) and make you long for a cup of coffee to choke on.

But then she scoots closer and oh, she’s really going for the full court mom press this time, isn’t she? You haven’t experienced mothering like this since… um… well… since you saw her do it for Lauren, or maybe that time she offered to buy you boobs to get you over Karma.

And there was another memory you liked repressed, thank you very much.

She’s leaning over you now and all you can do is hope you’ve gotten better at faking sleep over the years, since it never worked as a child.

Then again, as a child, there were days you actually wanted to be awake for, but we digress…

She’s close now, like frighteningly close, like about to whisper in your ear that no matter what she says, we can’t ever call Nana a racist. Or that no, you shouldn’t mention step number two to potential step number four.

Except…

You don’t remember your mother ever wearing this much perfume and certainly not lilac scented cause she’s allergic (she used to try to bond with you over your allergies because pretty flowers that make you sneeze and nuts that make you die? Same difference.) And you really really don’t remember her breath ever being this warm or blowing this softly against your ear.

Or - to hell with softly - blowing on your ear, period. Like at all.

And then she says the magic words, the ones guaranteed to fix what ails you. “I love you, too.”

Wait. Too?

You know, even though in your case it's Farrah, that there’s nothing like a mother’s love. And when you say 'nothing’, you’re totally including that voice and those words cause neither of them belong to Farrah.

You roll over, damn near causing a midair two head pileup as you come face-to-face and then, seconds later, lip-to-lip, with just about the last person you expected to see, this morning. Or kiss, this morning. Or feel quickly straddling you and sliding a pair of very soft yet surprisingly cold hands up under your shirt, this morning.

Or any morning.

And oh, guess what? Karma’s home.

You barely have time to register that she’s there - and by there, you mean on you and by on you, you mean on you - or to try and pull your lips from hers (which takes a surprising amount of effort, mostly because she’s chasing you as you move and one of those so cold hands is now on the back of your neck and damn, Karma’s been working out) when you hear the sound of your door opening back up.

“Amy, your mom said I could just come on up…”

Your eyes squeeze shut as Karma’s lips disconnect from yours with a loud smack (and you can already sense another one of those, the slightly more painful kind, in your near future) as she turns to the door.

“Oh, hey, Sophie,” Karma says and oh, how you wish you were fucking deaf. “Long time, no see.”