#i feel like if i got an incomplete application and it also sucked i would simply not call the person ever. but she took the time to call me

[fingertipsmp3]

Okay lads, I need a prayer circle or possibly witchcraft or something. I have a job interview on Wednesday and not to be dramatic or anything but if I don’t get it I’m going to make it everyone’s problem

[pjpresents]

Do you have any advice on how to get your ideas down? You know, I would stare down at an empty document, having the whole story in my head, but I just can't put it into words. The most vivid thing in my head cames out like "Emily-Claire felt the whole world shatter, the truth starts to set in. No it can't be. IT CAN'T BE! The girl sank to her knees burying her head into her late mother's shirt." *proceeds to rewrite the whole thing 13 times*

An aspiring writer,

Sereia

Oooh, this is a great question!

I would say that there's not one right way to get your first draft down. It's a first draft! All it has to do is be on the page. If you have the whole story in your head but it's not translating into fully written sentences, don't worry about writing full sentences! See if you can convey even a fraction of what you're thinking with bullet points, incomplete sentences, and/or brackets saying stuff like [she cries, write the details later].

You can get visual with it too. Have the perfect idea for a setting, but have no idea how to describe it? Find a picture that looks right, slap it in your document, and start writing like the setting has already been introduced. Later, you can go back and describe it (and the picture might help with this, as you can point to individual, tangible details). You can also do this with character appearances if struggling to describe them is blocking you from writing what comes after.

My biggest piece of advice to you would be to not focus on perfection. You can write what you think is bad and sloppy and incorrect! You don't have to show your first draft to anyone. I think there's this misconception of good writers sitting down and banging out a beautiful story on their first try. That couldn't be further than the truth (and if you don't believe me, hear it from the authors themselves!) If you want to write something you're proud of, you ahve to give yourself permission to have it suck at the beginning. Because you can always edit it into something you're proud of!

And if it helps you let go of perfection... don't feel constrained by writing the story exactly how it appears in your head. Try writing the main character having a snack with her best friend (or another scenario that feels applicable). Maybe it never shows up in the story, but it's good practice for seeing how the main character interacts with the world. And if it's just meant as a writing exercise and will never be a part of the story, then it certainly doesn't have to be perfect!

If you want a bigger challenge: once you start writing whatever scene you write next, don't rewrite anything until the scene is complete. It can be short! But if you're so caught up on editing each sentence as it comes, you're going to have a hard time feeling free enough to write imperfectly. Actually, I would advise you not to edit anything until it's been a day since you've written it. I've found that separating my "writing time" and my "editing time" not only helps me write with abandon, but it gives me enough time away from my writing to come into editing with fresh eyes.

One thing that can help with getting into the flow is starting with a free write. This is where you just write stream of consciousness, about whatever you're thinking—what you had for breakfast, how cute your crush is, etc.—but you write without stopping. Once you're in a flow, it can be easier to transition into writing your story rather than sitting down to do it. Think of it how athletes stretch before they work out, and some artists do drawing exercises before they start working on their main piece. You've got to warm up first!

But really, don't beat yourself up over not being able to get everything on the page at once. Writing is hard, and like most things, it takes practice. Just take it day by day, do what you can, and don't be afraid to try something new or unconventional. You've got this!

And my asks are open if you want any further advice!

[delusion-of-negation]

top 10 (ish) ridiculous or annoying FAQs:

(click at your own discretion)

1) "kids today rely on others to do everything"

ah yes, damn those participation trophies! if it wasn't for them my hands wouldn't be fucked, and I wouldn't need people to write for me. but seriously, stop reading boomer comics, and go outside to meet some actual young people.

2) "sus that a non-american says mom"

yeah, because it's clearly the superior version, and I'm not too patriotic to concede a defeat.

3) "sweaty, the victims of abuse by catholics are real people, stop appropriating their pain just because you want to hate catholics; plus teachers abuse people just as often anyway"

so firstly, I don't hate anybody. and secondly, regarding the fact that victims really do exist, [insert "of course I know him, he's me" meme here]; although I don't often talk much about the abuse I went through or what my religious beliefs are. but, more importantly, statements like "survivors are people" can be phrased like "some people are survivors", and when you're unable to act according to the latter (like when you don't even consider that somebody might be one) then you display a failure to recognise the former - you're projecting; a survivor can't be appropriating their own pain, but you can be appropriating it to silence one. and thirdly, teachers do abuse - the problem isn't and has never been purely religion, rather that abuse is often done by somebody in a position of trust, power, and familiarity; and that the lack of a global minimum enables totally legal abuse on top of the illegal stuff. people with access and respect have more opportunity to abuse than those without, and that goes for teachers too. but, once again, you can be appropriating the pain of survivors to deflect and silence people. please remember this before you say that shit.

4) "get help/therapy"

way ahead of you - years ahead of you. but it's not magic - people who say this often act as if you'll start behaving differently overnight. not only are some things simply beyond the ability of talking therapy to completely rectify, it also takes time and has to be selective. you've got to pick your priorities, and that's definitely not whatever ship or joke you're mad at me about today. therapy is a slow, arduous process that can't guarantee results - it isn't "anti-recovery" to recognise that, it's honesty. while I've been in therapy for a long time, it is not necessarily going to change whatever you don't like about me - whether that's because it can't, because my focus now is on more important or urgent things, or because I don't want to change that.

5a) "tell your family you ship incest, see how that goes; normal people find it disgusting"

actually, some know, and they're fine with it. in fact, one prefers sibling pairings in fiction to all other dynamics because, to paraphrase, "it's a deeper level of messed up co-dependence". so unfortunately for you, my remaining family (by which I mean those not dead or cut out of my life after abuse and so forth) actually are able to distinguish between fiction and reality. plus, my reasoning for caring if they find it gross or not pertains only to recommending books and such - their opinions do not dictate my tastes.

5b) "don't sexualise/appropriate incestuous abuse" and "I bet you enjoyed being raped" and other attempts to upset me over 5a

firstly, as I've already said here, survivors can't be appropriating ourselves. in addition, you're not owed people's history or trauma - it's not okay to require people's personal information, or else you'll send anon hate and accusations of appropriation. secondly, I'm not sexualising our abuse (not just because I write horror, and so a lot of my writing is intended to be creepy, not sexy); these stories aren't about us, they're not us at all. entire dynamics/people (fictional or otherwise) aren't all going to be applicable to us or identical to us, just because they have something in common with us; they're not us and they're not accountable to us. thirdly, the fact that people send this stuff (attempting to trigger people's trauma over ships) is so much more worrying to me than somebody making our communal imaginary friends kiss. you're trying to hurt people. and finally, to the "I bet you enjoyed it" crowd (if you're at all serious): do you think you'd enjoy being in a real zombie apocalypse, alone, afraid, and really at risk of being eaten alive? a fictional scenario does not feel remotely the same as a real one. this isn't rocket science - things that look like you aren't you; fiction isn't reality; don't send anon hate. (edit: comparable "just leave me alone, I'm not hurting anyone" sentiments for yandere stuff, and anything else you decide I'm naughty for.)

6) "you'll be sent off to do manual labour once your communist revolution happens"

while I don't know why people think that I'm a communist, a dictatorial regime probably isn't going to want me to do manual labour. they're more likely to just shoot me; I'm useless and a liability. call me crazy, but something tells me that "ah yes, we shall give ze deranged cripple ze power tools" isn't the communist position.

7a) "they/them can't be singular pronouns"

yes they can, and they're used as such in both shakespeare and the bible. but you don't have to say this - I'm also okay with he/him, so you could've just used those and chilled out. also, do I look like somebody who views the rules of grammar as fully immutable and imperative?

7b) "enbies/aros/pan/etc aren't valid"

do you really think that you're going to change any hearts or minds by putting that in my ask box or under my funny maymays? chill out, it's not worth the effort - you could be planning a party (in minecraft) and having fun instead. it isn't worth my time to rant at everybody who's saying something isn't valid, updating how I'm explaining it as my opinions grow and general discourse around it evolves; I'm just who I am, somebody else is who they are - why bicker in presumptuous ways about if that's enough? it ultimately is valid, in my opinion, but that isn't an invitation to keep demanding that I debate. (edit: old posts of mine probably don't phrase things incredibly, on this or anything... I tried.)

8) "what are your politics?"

my politics are informed first and foremost by the knowledge that I'm not cut out to be some kind of leader - I don't want to be the guy who tells everyone else what to do, I just offer what seem to me like valid criticisms of how we are doing things now, and general pointers on the values and ethics that I would prefer to move towards. things like individual freedom, taking the most pacifist route where possible, trying not to give excessive power to small groups of people (governments or corporations), helping those in need even when they're not palatable, and letting me suck loads of dicks. but please refrain from decreeing me something - there's not enough information in what I said, so you'll just be filling in the blanks with assumptions. (edit: workplace democracy seems cool to me; benefits are good; fair fines and taxes; and the "sperm makes you loopy" saga: 1, 2, 3, and 4.)

9) "you're a narcissist"

no, I don't meet the diagnostic criteria. joking on the internet that you're hot doesn't make a person a narcissist. the fact that I've chosen to keep my actual self-esteem issues to myself is not proof that they don't exist - you're just not entitled to that information about me. but it's also not narcissism to really like how you look. (edit: don't throw labels around carelessly too.)

10a) "kin list?"

the fabric of the universe, a zombie, dionysus, maned wolf/arctic fox hybrid, a comedian, big gay, big rock, ambiguously partial insincerity. (edit: kin list may or may not be incomplete.)

10b) "kin isn't valid/that's just being insane"

haven't we established that I'm deranged, and that sending stuff like this on anon is simply a waste of your precious time? besides, I do not care if it's invalid or insane - it's fun, I'm happy. (edit: see 7b for my opinion on sending me yet another ask with "that's invalid" in it; I'm not in the mood to discuss the nature of validity.)

bonus: "it gets better" and "trigger list?"

as I've said before, things just don't always get better for everyone - sometimes things can't be cured or even treated, sometimes they kill you; in some cases it could get better if not for a blockade or lack of time. the world is messy. it needs to be more normalised to reassure or comfort people without relying on saying that their issue will get better or be cured. it does suck to be this ill, but it also sucks to be made out to be a lazy pessimist, just because I have the audacity to not play along. and as for the trigger list, I don't like providing people with an easily accessed list of ways to hurt my feelings or harm me - upsetting me is supposed to be challenging, and thus rewarding. if you want a cheat sheet then you're out of luck, I'm afraid.

bonus #2: "FAQ stands for frequently asked questions, it doesn't need that s at the end!"

yeah, I know, I just enjoy chaos and disarray.

bonus #3 (edit): "what are your disabilities and how exactly are they incurable and/or deadly?"

again, I don't tell the internet everything about me, especially when it poses a risk, especially not as an easily accessible list for you to refer back to whenever you feel inclined to hurt my feelings. that is understandably a sore subject. (edit: that includes physical health issues btw.)

bonus #4 (edit): "so we shouldn't be critical?"

if it wasn't clear from my answer about politics or my post in general, you can have opinions about things, and you can voice that. it's just not realistic to exist at extremes: to think that you alone should dictate what exists in fiction, or to think that people shouldn't be expressing disdain or criticism of any calibur. say how you feel about things, that's fine, but it's also fine if people find that they don't value your input. plus we're all flawed, we can all be hypocritical from time to time, we all get bitchy, and we all make mistakes, or even knowingly fuck things up. that's important to keep in mind, whether we're talking about the one being criticised or the one doing the criticising - poor choices of words, imperfect tone, or contradictory ideas are inevitably going to happen occasionally.

congrats on reaching the end! if you have, at any point, said one of these to me, you owe a hug to your nearest loved one (once it's safe).

edit: might add more links/bonus points in the future when I think of things, but it's late now. (sorry for links where prior notes in the thread have my old url, that may get a tad confusing; also, not all links are my blog or my op, since it is to illustrate points/vibes, not to self-promo.)

[nayutai]

⇢ Pairing Nakamoto Yuta x Female OC

⇢ Genre fluff, smut

⇢ Word Count 18.210

⇢ Warnings cursing, name calling, OC is a bitch, mutual pining, they are both dumb, semipublic sex, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex, yuta

Yasirah hums along to the Khalid song playing in her headphones as she leisurely makes her way to the student center. She makes a pit stop in the coffee shop on the first floor for a smoothie before finally stepping into the elevator. A wicked grin crosses her lips when she glances at her watch for the time. It’s 3:15 which means she’s officially fifteen minutes late for the SGA meeting which is a direct violation of the president’s rules. 

Her steps are light as she dances towards the meeting room reserved for the meeting. The thought of pissing off the seemingly unflappable SGA president Yuta has her buzzing with joy. No matter what goes wrong or how badly someone fucks up the man always takes it with a smile and comes up with a solution. It irritates her to no end so she’s made it the focus of her SGA career to shake him up. So far, she’s been unsuccessful but Yasirah has a good feeling about today. As Secretary, the meeting cannot start without her lest someone else pull out their laptops to keep minutes, but considering the rest of the governing body are either lazy as fuck or not allowed to take minutes because of their position; that will never happen.

She swings the conference room door open with a flourish to make her grand entrance, but she’s greatly disappointed to discover that the room is empty save for Yuta who is writing something on the whiteboard. Her watch says it’s now 3:17 which means everyone should be impatiently waiting for her arrival so that the meeting can start. There should be political unrest. There should be yelling. But no, it’s just Yuta with that insufferable smile on his face.

“Where the hell is everyone?” She grumbles, tapping on one of her wireless headphones to turn her music off and narrowing her eyes at her fellow executive board member. Even Seokjin, the university staff member tasked with babysitting them, is absent. The man hardly ever gives them a second glance but he’s annoyingly punctual. 

“I can see someone hasn’t checked the group chat.” Yuta sing songs, his trademark wide smile firmly in place. Yasirah is a flurry of movement as she struggles to dig her phone out of her bra. The rubbery material of her phone case decides that now is a great time to stick to her skin and she nearly drops her smoothie in the process.

Much to her dismay, she sees a message from Yuta from nearly an hour ago saying that today's meeting had been pushed back to 3:30 to ensure quorum due to several of the members being roped in last minute to speak at an admissions event. Yasirah wants to scream. Once again her efforts to piss off the smiling bitch in front of her have been foiled and it’s her own fault. She wants to launch herself right of one of the bay windows that line one wall of the conference room. 

“Have you been having a good day so far, Yasirah?” Yuta asks in an effort to strike up a conversation. He hates the way the silence in the room feels like it’s sucking all of the oxygen out of the air or maybe that’s just the results of his secretary brooding in the corner. Even when she’s sulking, she still looks beautiful and he’s irritated by the fact that he’s so aware of it.

“Talking to me before this meeting starts is in fact a hate crime. Make it stop.” She responds without even looking up from her cellphone. Yuta rolls his eyes because really he should’ve expected such a response from her, but he’s nothing if not persistent. 

“Did you hear that Coach K is leaving at the end of the season? Apparently he’s going to State which is-” His second attempt at conversation is interrupted by Yasirah dramatically dropping her head onto the table. He winces at the noise. No way that one didn’t hurt.

“You can stop pretending to be nice, Yuta. There’s no one here to praise you for being the golden boy.” She’s glaring at him like he’s a professor that just issued a ten page paper due in the middle of spring break. For the life of him, he can’t figure out why she hates him so much when he’s been nothing but nice to her. He sighs deeply and resigns himself to sitting in silence until the rest of the board shows up.

Yuta nearly collapses with relief  when the treasurer Khushi drags himself into the conference room. He always looks like he’s tired, high, or a combination of both, but he can do math problems in his head that it would take most people three years to figure out with a calculator without batting an eyelash. He offers him a nonchalant head nod as a greeting as he rests his longboard against the wall by the door before taking his unassigned assigned seat at the seat closest to the door.

“Kush, you look more tired than normal. You good?” Yuta questions with genuine concern for his friend. 

“Life is tiring, my dude.” Khushi responds in that slow, deliberate cadence that he’s known for. He reaches behind him as he leans back as far as the chair will allow to stretch his back. “Rah, you got any snacks? I’m hungry.”

A small smile crosses Yuta’s face at the tinkling bell sound of Yasirah giggling as she digs around in her backpack for a snack to give Khushi. She makes a comment about how she packs extra snacks on meeting days just for him as she tosses him a pack of animal crackers. Yuta can’t help the pang of jealousy that he’s plagued with at that comment. To anyone else, Yasirah is the best friend someone could ask for. She may be snarky and dismissed but for those lucky enough to be in her good graces she’s unerringly loyal and caring. Yuta on the other hand doesn’t get to see that side of her at all. He may as well be public enemy number one. He’s never understood why but he’s not crazy enough to outright ask her and risk the full force of her wrath.

The rest of the executive board slowly filter in as it gets closer to 3:30. Yuta’s stomach turns as Yasirah and one of the senators Jaehyun make eyes at each other across the room when he walks in. It’s no secret that they hook up from time to time but God he wishes they could at least attempt to be more discreet about it.

“Roll call!” He yells to get everyone’s attention. He starts running through the roster to mark everyone as present on his spreadsheet. Everyone is present and accounted for with the exception of the senior class senator Taeyong who is at an RA training.

Everything is going smoothly until they get to the last funding request in the pile that they need to get through before next week’s general body meeting. It’s incomplete. The responses are incredibly vague. The paperwork even has suspicious stains on it. Anybody can tell that the fraternity who submitted the application just wants to try and cash in on the generous reputation that SGA has developed since Yuta became president. It’s irritating to say the least that organizations are trying to advantage of his desire to help as many students as possible. SGA is loaded and yet previous presidents before him had always been very tight fisted with giving out funds and now he’s starting to see why.

“I don’t even think this one needs much discussion. On principle it’s eligible for nothing but rejection.” He passes the paperwork to Mark send around the table with a look of disdain on his face. Ever observant, Yasirah zones in on his visible irritation like a heat-seeking missile. This is her chance to prove that the man who never utters a cross word at anyone isn’t as nice as he would like everyone to believe.

“Aw, are you upset Mr. President? Did those naughty frat boys hurt your feelings?” She asks mockingly. Yuta can tell by the look on her face that she’s looking for a reaction and he’s trying his hardest not to give her one but it seems like every day she comes closer and closer to pushing him too far. 

“Yasirah, stop being a bitch for two seconds.” Normani speaks up from her spot next to Yuta’s antagonizer. As her best friend, Normani can get away with talking to her like that and he’s never been more thankful for the fact that she takes full advantage of that ability.

The half assed proposal is swiftly rejected just as Yuta had said it should be a few minutes later with a promise from resident frat boys Jaehyun and Johnny to antagonize the offending fraternity for wasting their time. With nothing else on the agenda for the board meeting, Yuta calls it to a close.

“Yuta, are you going to the Sigma party?” He looks over at Normani as he stuffs his laptop back into his bag. He’d heard that they’d be having a party tonight but he really hadn’t put much thought into whether or not he would go. Partying really isn’t his thing but he liked to show his face at one from time to time just to say he did.

“Mr. Goody Two Shoes? Going to a Sigma function? Yeah I’ll believe that when I see it.” Yasirah pipes up as she waits for Normani by the door. She’s smirking devilishly and not for the first time Yuta gets the urge to tell her to fuck off but that’s not how he does things. He grits his teeth and turns back to face Normani.

“Text me the address. I’ll be there.”

Yuta drops his bag onto his bedroom floor, face planting onto his mattress the second he’s in range. He can’t believe that he let Yasirah get under his skin enough that he’s actually committed to going to frat party on a Thursday night. He has an eight am math class tomorrow which is already hell to wake up for with a full night’s sleep. He kicks his legs like a child as he thinks about the hell he’s going to go through tomorrow.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Yuta sits up to face his roommate. Johnny is leaned against the door frame stuffing his mouth full of the cereal that Taeyong, who also lives with them, has specifically said is off limits. 

“I’m going to the Sigma party tonight.” Yuta cringes at the sound of the words as they leave his mouth. Part of him wants to play sick and tell Normani he can’t go but he’s nothing if not a man of his word. Plus he really doesn’t need her ragging him about this for the rest of the semester because that is exactly what she’ll do. 

“Why the hell would you do that?” Johnny stops stuffing cereal in his mouth, deciding that his do no evil roommate going to a fraternity rager is infinitely more interesting. “You hate parties.” Yuta groans in response. 

“I still hate parties, but Yasirah-” Johnny cuts him off by nearly choking to death on his own spit. Yuta firmly claps his friend on the back until his breathing returns to normal.

“Are you telling me that you let Yasirah bully you into going to a party?” Ashamed, Yuta simply nods. He picks at a stray strand on his comforter as the room falls silent. The sound of Johnny tapping away at his phone is deafening.

“You know what this means right?” Johnny shoves his phone back into his pocket and goes back to his cereal. He looks like he knows something that Yuta doesn’t and it’s unsettling Yuta’s spirit.

“That I’m probably gonna be late to Stats in the morning? That I’m going to hate my life just as much as Yasirah hates me.” Yuta is confused at the way Johnny rolls his eyes. What conclusion is he drawing that Yuta missed? He can’t think of anything else that he could possibly be getting at.

“Yasirah hates a lot people but you are definitely not one of them.” Johnny goes on a rant about women being complex creatures with simple desires and misplaced sexual tension. None of it means anything to Yuta. All he knows is that he can feel the barbs digging into his skin every time she speaks to him. Sure, he’s a mostly heterosexual man with eyes and isn’t ashamed to admit that he’s thought about what it would be like to sleep with Yasirah. She’s a bombshell in every sense of the work and fantastic in bed if Jaehyun is to be believed, but degradation is not and never has been something that got him off.

“I don’t believe that but I need to take a nap before this party so I don’t have time to argue with you on why you’re wrong.”

“You’d lose anyway. I told Andre that I’d help buy alcohol so I’ll see you at the party later.” 

Johnny leaves with very little fanfare but his words are still ringing in Yuta’s head long after he’s gone. His dick hopes that Johnny knows what he’s talking about but the logical side of him knows that testing his theory won’t lead to anything good. Yasirah Coleman might tick off all of the boxes he looks for in a partner, but the headache just isn’t worth it.

The modest brick house is practically vibrating as Normani all but drags Yuta towards the front door. She exchanges a few pleasantries with the twins Andre and Dante who have been tasked with manning the door while Yuta pays his door fee. 

“Aight y’all have fun and remember Hennything goes tonight.”

The only lights on in the whole house appear to be the ones in the kitchen and a few random strobe lights in the otherwise dark living room. Normani resumes her dragging as she pulls Yuta along to the kitchen. Neither one of them is surprised to find Jaehyun and Taeil setting up a game of beer pong on the spacious kitchen island. A chorus of yells erupts from the two SGA members when they spot Yuta and Normani. She lets him go in favor of pouring them both healthy servings of the seemingly unlimited Hennessy. 

“I thought Rah was just bullshitting when she said you were coming tonight.” Taeil giggles as he finishes the rest of what is obviously not his first drink. His eyes are glassy and dancing with inebriated joy. Normani disappears when she spots a few of her sorority sisters, leaving Yuta to watch the beer pong game progress as he slowly sips on his drink.

“Dude, you know this means we both owe her $30 right?” Jaehyun reminds him right before he sinks a ping pong ball into one of Taeil’s cups. Yuta can’t believe that his friends actually made bets against him, but then again he can’t really blame them either. “And you know Rah doesn’t fuck around when it comes to her money. She’s worse than Kush.”

“Fucking hell.” Taeil grumbles at the thought of having to actually give up his money. He quickly chugs the alcohol in and tosses the empty cup over his shoulder. Despite his intoxication, he easily returns the favor, sinking the ball into a cup on Jaehyun’s side of the island. 

Despite his drunkenness, Taeil makes quick work of Jaehyun who, true to his competitive nature, demands a rematch. Khushi seemingly appears out of nowhere and before Yuta can talk himself out of it he finds himself teamed up with Khushi against Taeil and Jaehyun. He’s definitely going to need more alcohol.

“Whee! Come on it’s time to go.” Yasirah types out a text to Normani as she waits for their other roommate Wheein to hurry up with whatever the hell it is she’s doing. She can hear her moving around in the kitchen followed by the sound of her gagging. Concerned, Yasirah runs to check on her friend. She finds her holding on to the refrigerator door handle for dear life with one hand while a fifth of vodka is clutched in the other. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened here.

“For fucks sake Wheein we are literally going to a frat party called Hennything Goes. There no reason to pregame this hard.” Yasirah complains as she snatches the bottle away from the tiny sorority girl that she’s feeling the urge to throttle right about now. 

“I hate Hennessy.” 

With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Yasirah drags Wheein out of the apartment so they can start walking towards the Sigma house. Their apartment is almost half a mile away from the party and yet they can still hear the faint thumping from the bass of whatever song is currently playing. She readjusts her bralette, giving herself a final once over in the reflection of a car parked near the house. They breeze inside and immediately join Normani on the dance floor and get sucked into the mass of bodies twerking to Big Ole Freak.

A bead of sweat runs down her temple when Yasirah extricates herself from the random dude she’d decided to dance with. Being packed in that tightly is only fun when you’re drunk and the vodka shots she’d done earlier are long gone. She navigates the through the crowd to what she’s guessing is the kitchen in search of the Hennessy that tonight’s function is based on.

The familiar sound of Jaehyun yelling rises above the music. Sure enough, she finds him in the kitchen playing beer pong with Taeil and Khushi. There’s a fourth person at the table but he’s got his back to her. Her stomach sinks to her ankles when the mystery man turns to face his opponents, allowing her to get a look at his side profile. He’s cackling maniacally and, judging from Taeil and Jaehyun’s sour expressions, his laughter is at their expense. He’s wearing a basic pair of black jeans that hug his legs just right and a matching black t-shirt. His hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it one too many times but for whatever satanic reason it looks great on him. In short, he looks hot as hell, but that’s not something Yasirah would like to dwell on right now or ever for that matter.

“You bitches are cheating.” Taeil points a finger at Khushi and Yuta. He barely spares Yasirah a glance when she sidles up to the kitchen island after pouring herself a drink to watch this all go down. Khushi launches into an impassioned speech on angles and velocity and a whole host of other math bullshit that flies way over everyone’s head. 

“Aht aht!” Jaehyun waves his arms around dramatically in his bid to make the math talk stop. “We get it, Kush. You’re stupid smart and we’re cavemen, but what’s your excuse?” His eyes are narrowed as he stares Yuta down. The man in question picks up a red solo cup to his left, swirling the alcohol around as he peers over the rim of the cup with a devilish look on his face. He downs the dark liquor without so much as a grimace.

“I’m just better than you.” He emphasizes his statement by sinking the ball in the last remaining cup in their court. Taeil looks like he’s on the verge of having a meltdown while Jaehyun is already firmly in meltdown territory.

Everyone is so focused on the children throwing tantrums that no one notices the fact that Yasirah’s eyes have yet to leave Yuta’s face. Something about the cocky way that he’d declared his superiority had sparked something in her. Then there was the way he’d teasingly poked his tongue out as he’d lined up his game winning shot. She’s never seen this side of him and to say she’s intrigued by it would be a gross understatement. A ball of warmth is stirring violently in her lower abdomen but it’s not from the alcohol. Yasirah is turned on in the worst way possible.

“I hate it here!” Taeil screams. Yasirah is in agreement with him on that one. She needs to get out of here and fast before she does something stupid like beg Yuta to bend her over the granite countertop.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” She whispers suggestively in Jaehyun’s ear. A loaded look at his crotch when she pulls back from him sends her intended message loud and clear. His childish anguish is replaced almost instantly with a look that promises a night of mind-numbing pleasure which is exactly what she needs. 

“Let’s go.” They both chug the last of their drinks before Jaehyun leads her out of the kitchen. If she’d given into the urge to turn around she’d have seen the curious look on Yuta’s face as he watched her leave with his friend.

Yuta’s alarm goes off promptly at 7:15 am and the mellow bells tone may as well be jackhammer going full throttle on his temples. He fervently wishes for death but somehow manages to drag himself out of bed. The night before is a blur. His gut is tossing wildly so breakfast is out of the question. The coffeepot is churning out liquid gold while he rests his head against the kitchen counter. He curses himself for allowing himself to be so weak as to give into Yasirah’s manipulative ways. Every day he tells himself that today is the day he grows a spine and tells her to fuck off but he just can’t do it. No matter how evil and conniving she is, he can’t bring himself to defend himself for her. Who knows maybe he’s a glutton for punishment with an overzealous dealer. Either way, he feels stuck.

Math is even more of a soul sucker than normal and, contrary to his normal pattern, Yuta is the first student to book it out of the classroom. God smiled down on him and gave his religious theory professor some weird stomach bug so he’s officially done for the day, leaving him free to sleep off the hangover that plagues him. Sunglasses in place, hood pulled low on his head, he starts the walk across campus to wait on the shuttle that’ll take him back to his apartment complex. 

“Yuta!” Any other day and he would’ve stopped to converse with whoever is yelling after him, but today is not any other day. He is in no mood to socialize today. In fact, he would rather walk off the roof of the student union. He keeps forging ahead as if he hadn’t heard them. Unfortunately for him, his stroke of good luck ended with his last class getting cancelled.

“Dammit Yuta didn’t you hear me calling you?” His eyes go wide when Yasirah yanks him around by the wrist to face. The shock quickly wears off as his expression sours. What could she possibly want with him.

“Yes, I heard you.” He shrugs her hand off of him but he doesn’t get much further down the sidewalk before she’s grabbing at him again. Yuta wants to scream, but that would only make the pounding in his head worse than it already is. 

“If you heard me, why didn’t you answer me?”

“Because I didn’t want to now if you’ll excuse me I have a bus to catch.” He walks away from her for the second and hopefully the last time. Hot, roiling anger blooms in his chest when she grabs his wrist again. This time, she doesn’t let go as she drags him along with her in the opposite direction of the bus stop.

“If you’re taking me somewhere to kill me just make it swift.” He pleads. His will to fight is long gone as he allows Yasirah to drag him behind her like a wagon.

“I’m not going to kill you, stupid. I’m taking you home. You look like shit on a stick.” Yuta nearly leaps out of his skin. The she-devil with an iron grip on his arm has never gone out of her to do anything for him that didn’t involve public humiliation and a heap of insults. She’s definitely going to kill him. Oh well, he’s lived a good life until now. 

She all but forces him into the passenger seat when they finally reach her car. He knew that she drove a BMW, a gift from her parents according to Normani,  but he’d never seen it for himself. The bucket seat hugs him like an old friend when he settles into it. If he had to stay in this spot for the rest of his life, he definitely wouldn’t complain. 

His eyes drift closed in an effort to compartmentalize the subtle throbbing that still plagues his temples. He’s doing his best not to fall asleep but apparently he fails because he’s awakened by Yasirah poking at his face. His hands move on their own accord in an attempt to make it stop so that he can settle back into his peaceful slumber.

“Oh thank God you’re not dead.” Yasirah continues her pestering until Yuta finally opens his eyes, turning his head to glare at her though the fact that his dark shades totally obscure his eyes makes it a lot less threatening than he probably intended. “Now get out of my car.”

He nearly trips to his death, but Yuta is out of her car faster than he thought was possible in his current state once he realizes they’re parked in front of his building. Moving that fast was a horrible idea as the headache he’s been nursing is now accompanied by dizziness. Her eyes follow him down the sidewalk a ways, watching him for a minute as he struggles to deal with the stairs. She has a small meltdown before yanking her keys from her ignition. Yuta protests her help at first but ultimately gives in to the steadying grip she has on his waist as she assists him to the door of his apartment.

Yasirah is praying that his apartment is empty when they reach it, but when Yuta hands her his key to unlock the door it’s clear that her prayers have gone unanswered. Three pairs of eyes turn to face the awkward pair as they stumble through the front door. 

“Are you useless twats just going to stare or are you going to help me?” She snaps as the three men on the couch simply continue watching some random hockey game.

“At your service, Your Highness.” Yasirah chooses to ignore Johnny’s sarcasm in favor of making a run for it while he and Taeyong take care of Yuta. Jaehyun has other plans. She stops with her hand on the door knob when she feels his hand on her forearm much like she’d done to Yuta earlier.

“What made you decide to bring Yuta home?” This is exactly what she was hoping to avoid. Jaehyun has a one track mind and once he’s got his mind on something he puts his all into it. Yasirah’s convinced that’s why he’s so good in bed.

“You saw him. I’m surprised he was even upright.” She attempts to draw on his human sensibilities, but she knew it wouldn’t work before the words even left her mouth. Jaehyun was one of her close friends before he ever stuck his dick in her. He knows her entirely too well to be fooled by some bullshit like that. He knows that she doesn’t give a

“And? Since when do you help people you don’t like?” Jaehyun questions in a tone that makes Yasirah nervous. It’s the same tone he uses when he knows something she doesn’t and it never ends well for her. They both know that the answer to his question is never but something tells her that he knows something else that he’s not saying.

“Bye, Jaehyun.” 

Yasirah hardly ever looks forward to SGA General Body meetings, but today seems to be an exception. She’s actually looking forward to listening to people begging for money to go to random conferences and trainings to get out of going to their classes. She blames her excitement on the fact that this is the only organization she’s involved in that Wheein and Normani are also apart of which means she might actually get to see them since they’ve both been busy with preparing for new members to join their respective sororities. However, if she’s really honest with herself, a certain president with impressive beer pong skills is the actual source of her anticipation. Yasirah hasn’t seen or spoken to him since she dropped him off at his apartment on Friday which isn’t out of the ordinary, but now it makes her feel weird.

She fiddles with one of the buttons on the SGA polo shirt they have to wear for meetings as she waits for her ham and swiss sandwich and chai tea at Starbucks. It’s taking a lot longer than she was expecting and part of her wants to leave to keep from being late for the meeting, but this is her only chance to get food until after the meeting. The general body meetings can last two hours depending on how many people show up and Yasirah knows that there’s no way she’ll last the whole meeting without snapping at someone in a hunger-driven rage. So she waits and waits some more. By the time she gets her food and sprints up the stairs, she’s on the cusp of being late. Normally she eats her food before going upstairs to the meeting but there just simply isn’t time for that today. She manages to slide into the room just as Seokjin is closing the door to start the meeting. The only available seat at the exec board table is right next to Yuta. Fantastic. 

He looks up at her from his seat when she approaches, nodding his head in acknowledgment. A snarky comment threatens to fly out of her mouth but she tamps it down at the last second, choosing to mumble hello instead. Yasirah hurriedly pulls her laptop out of her bag. They jump straight into the presentations with little preamble. She’s polishing off half of her sandwich in between presenters and reaches for the other half when the sound of a stomach growling on her left catches her attention. Yasirah side eyes Yuta who is acting like it wasn’t him but she knows better. Though she definitely wants it, Yasirah finds herself sliding the rest of her sandwich in Yuta’s direction. He attempts to push it back but she blocks him.

“Just eat it, Yuta.” She mumbles under her breath as she starts typing again. A strange sense of satisfaction flutters in her chest when she sees him take a bite out of the sandwich. Normani bumps Yasirah’s right knee with her own to get attention, pointedly looking between the sandwich in Yuta’s hands and her best friend. Yasirah waves her off but she knows that Normani isn’t going to let it go. 

It’s a struggle for Yasirah to keep her facial expression in check as the two students currently speaking struggle through their funding request. It’s clear that they’re winging it and she makes a note of that in her minutes to bring up at next week’s board meeting. Thankfully, they’re able to cut the slackers short as the even they need the money for is at the end of the week and therefore ineligible for SGA funding since the executive board won’t be able to meet to vote on their funding request before said event. The students protest loudly but rules are rules as Yuta firmly reminds them.

A couple more funding requests and a complaint about the snack selections in the on-campus convenience stores and Yasirah is booking it downstairs with Normani and Wheein. This is the one night that they’re able to get dinner together like normal and they plan to take full advantage. 

“So,” Normani starts, dragging the word out suspiciously. Yasirah was millimeters away from dunking her chicken nugget in her barbecue sauce but ceases all movement. “What’s going between you and Yuta?”

And there it is. Yasirah knew this was coming eventually and apparently so did Wheein who has pushed her french fries to the side as well. They’re both staring at her expectantly as if they’re waiting for her to spill her guts on something.

“Why would something be going on between me and Yuta?” Yasirah’s gazes flits between her friends as if she’s watching a tennis match. Wheein giggles like a cat that caught the canary while Normani still has that same smug look on her face. “Why are y’all staring at me?”

Wheein reveals that Taeyong told her about her dropping Yuta off at their apartment last Friday which they had deemed incredibly suspicious. Normani adds on the fact that Yasirah gave her sworn enemy half of her sandwich when previously the only people she’s shared food with is them and Khushi. Yasirah tries to argue her defense but gets shut down quickly.

“The math is just not mathing, my love.” Wheein taunts. She steals one of Yasirah’s chicken nuggets after realizing that she’s eaten all of hers. “I think you wanna ride him off into the sunset.”

“Oop! Can’t say I disagree with that one.” Normani chimes in.

“I don’t want to have sex with him. I have just come to realize that I may have been wrong about him and have decided that I don’t have to antagonize him.” Yasirah expects her declaration to end this conversation so they can move on to something else, but she should’ve known that wouldn’t be the case. Not with her messy ass friends.

“Yeah you totally wanna smash.” Normani and Wheein giggle incessantly at Normani’s crass deduction. Yasirah hates the both of them wholeheartedly and briefly contemplates leaving them in this McDonalds to find their own way back to their apartment. She won’t say it out loud but they’re dead on the mark with her wanting to ride Yuta like a mechanical bull. Damn their intuition.

If anyone were to be standing outside Yuta’s apartment, they would think someone was being brutally murdered inside. Johnny had decided that everyone needed “bro time” that didn’t involve the letters S, G, or A which someone how resulted in their living room becoming the venue for a Smash Bros showdown. Beer is flowing and the pizza is abundant as they all scream at the tv screen like banshees. Even Khushi, who is normally the calm before the storm that is everyone else, is hurling curse words left and right. Mark leaps from his spot on the couch to loudly proclaim his victory when he ultimately wins the match much to everyone’s dismay. This is his fourth win in a row.

“I hate you.” Yuta mumbles glaring in Mark’s direction but the younger boy is much too high off his win streak to care. He blows kisses at Yuta who flips him off in response.

“Somebody call Yasirah to put this little shit in his place. I need her to avenge me.” Taeil demands. Yasirah is widely known as the best Smash player on campus. She would absolutely throttle Mark and send his streak crashing and burning to the pits of hell. 

Yuta doubts that Yasirah even remembers but the first time they met was at a Smash tournament their dorm was having freshman year. He was in awe of her then and despite the years that have gone by that hasn’t changed a bit. She gives him hell every chance she gets and yet he can’t find it in himself to hate her despite numerous attempts to do exactly that.

“Speaking of Yasirah,” Taeyong starts, taking a pause to polish off the last of his beer. “has anyone noticed that she’s actually being nice to, Nakamoto?”

His question is met with a chorus of confused agreement as people start realizing that the normal barbs that Yasirah liked to hurl Yuta’s way are all but nonexistent these days. Jaehyun brings up the sandwich she’d shared with him at the last general body SGA meeting which leads to the rest of the guys pointing out things they’d noticed as well. Yuta sits in silence as he takes it all in. He’d noticed that she wasn’t as much of a bitch as she’s known to be, but her niceness still held a hard edge to it so he’d just assumed Normani’s threats had finally gotten through to Yasirah.

“I even called my mom to see if her and the WhatsApp aunties had seen any signs of the apocalypse starting.” Khushi mentions as he munches on the chips he snatched from Haechan a few minutes ago. 

“You all know why she’s doing this right?” Johnny questions with that same mischievous look he’d had on his face right before the Sigma party. Yuta automatically knows what he’s going to say and he’s already dreading the words about to come out of Johnny’s mouth. 

“She wants that Japanese monster cock.” Everyone with something in their mouths collectively chokes when Taeil steals Johnny’s thunder with his own assumptions. Johnny high fives him while the whole room except Yuta and Khushi dissolve into maniacal laughter. 

“You’re all a bunch of lying bastards.” Yuta mutters as he reaches to pull another beer from the yeti cooler by Mark’s feet. 

“And you,” Yuta pins Jaehyun down with what he hopes is a very menacing stare, but he’s four beers deep and not sure of its effectiveness at this point, “how can you be so cool with them thinking your girl wants to fuck me?”

“Yasirah is not my girl. We both just like to fuck.” Jaehyun responds casually. “And she definitely wants to fuck you.” 

Yuta vehemently disagrees with him which leads to another debate amongst the small crowd of horn dogs stuffed into the small apartment living room. Haechan points out that Khushi, who has been noticeably detached from the conversation, has known Yasirah the longest out of all of them and is therefore an expert on interpreting her actions. A point that Yuta decides that he can concede to. Everyone waits with bated breath as Khushi considers his words carefully.

“Whether or not Yasirah wants to have sex with Yuta is a moot point. She’s entirely too prideful and stubborn to ever initiate anything.” Khushi explains much. His attentive audience is more than disappointed and they make sure he knows it. 

“Fuck all that, am I right or not?” Johnny demands. The aquarius in him refusing to back down from the topic until he hears what he wants to hear. The room falls into silence once more as they all wait for Khushi to answer his question.

“You’re right but like I said she’ll never act on it unless Yuta makes the first move.” Yuta launches one of the many empty beer cans at Johnny’s head when the gloating giant throws Khushi’s confirmation back in his face. He should sleep with one eye open tonight. 

“All of you are lying sacks of shit and I’m going to prove it.” The gears in Yuta’s brain are already spinning as he comes up with a plan to confront Yasirah with this new information. Khushi may know her well but no one knows Ms. Yasirah Coleman better than the woman herself.

Yasirah nearly jumps out of her skin when her phone suddenly vibrates against her chest and brings her back to reality. It’s not the special vibration pattern she’d set for her parents so she hits ignore on the call and refocuses on the episode of Bones that has a strangle hold on her attention. Special Agent Seeley Booth leaps through a glass window at the Jeffersonian just as Yasirah’s phone vibrates once more. To say she’s irritated at this point would be an understatement. She pauses her tv show with a huff and answers the phone call without even glancing at the caller id to see who it is.

“Someone better be dying.” She mutters into the mouth piece. If the person on the other end has any sense then they will hang up and leave her be. Unfortunately for the both of them, said person is five vodka shots deep and all sense of self-preservation left on shot number three.

“Do you want to fuck me? All the guys say you do.” 

What the fuck?

Yasirah pulls her phone away from her ear and nearly chokes on her own spit when she sees Yuta’s name on the screen. There’s just no way in hell that he called her to ask her that. This is either one of Johnny and Jaehyun’s sick games or Yuta has stuck his head in a microwave. Either way someone will have to catch a fade for this.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Yasirah questions incredulously. Her tv show is all but forgotten as she struggles to maintain her composure. 

“No, it’s not. I’m just tired of them talking about it and I want to prove them wrong.” Yuta replies. Ice floods her veins at the fact that other people have actually noticed her subtly pining after her sworn enemy. Apparently, discretion isn’t one of her strong suits after all. She doesn’t realize that she’s fallen silent until Yuta calls her name to get her attention.

“So just tell me I’m right and they’re wrong because I’m drunk and I want to sleep now.”

“I can’t do that.” Yasirah whispers after a beat. She doesn’t know why she’s decided that now of all times to be completely honest with Yuta but the bell has been rung and there’s no going back now. 

The line falls silent once more as she waits for Yuta’s response. He’s quiet so long that she begins to think that he’s fallen asleep like he mentioned he wanted to do. Just as she about to hang up a bomb goes off in her ear. To say that Yuta is pissed off would be a gross understatement. Yasirah is so stunned by the sudden change in his demeanor that her brain seems to be short circuiting.

“You’ve made my life a living hell for two years and this whole time you just wanted some dick? Are you insane?” The anger in his voice is nearly palpable. She knows that he has every right to be angry with her so she simply lets him vent until he gets it all out. 

“In my defense,” Yasirah starts, “fucking you genuinely never crossed my mind until that night at the Sigma party. I realized that you’re not one of those boring Mary Jane try hards that’s overly nice to everyone.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I was so nice to you because I liked you?” Yuta sounds incredibly frustrated at the fact that he’s apparently been pining after her the entire time they’ve known each other despite the fact that she’s evil incarnate. Yasirah didn’t think it was possible to feel any lower than she already did but she was incorrect.

“Yuta…” Yasirah trails off. She wants to apologize for being so blind and bitchy but he doesn’t give her the chance to get her thoughts together. The beep of her phone notifying her that the call has been connected feels much too final.

Days pass and Yuta’s phone call is still weighing heavily on Yasirah’s mind. She’s tried to talk to him about it but each of her attempts have been shot down. He doesn’t want to talk to her any more than he has to and she’s not about to continue to push the issue. The stress of her caseload in conjunction with this boy drama is stressing her out in a major way. Normally, she’d call Jaehyun and blow off some steam with him but he has apparently decided to grow a moral compass at the absolutely worst time possible.

I don’t care what Yuta says. He’s still head over heels for you and now that I know that it would be against the bro code to fuck you.

Yasirah scoffs at the memory of how Jaehyun had rejected her “you up?” text. She got less than three hours of sleep that night and it’s clearly evident when she stalks into the SGA meeting room the next afternoon like a storm cloud in Nike running shorts. A scheduling mishap with the meeting space meant that this week’s general body meeting had to be pushed to Friday as opposed to it’s normal Tuesday. Since she only has one class on Friday mornings, the idea of spending her coveted free time listening to people bitch instead of catching on all of the hours of sleep she’s missed out on this week has Yasirah on edge.

She’s a full thirty minutes early for the meeting but taking up residence in Starbucks had quickly become boring since she had somehow managed to forget her headphones at home this morning. The sound of coffee machine whirring and students conversating was grating on her nerves, forcing her to retreat to the political science building. She’d been pleased to realize that not even Yuta had shown up yet; therefore, allowing her to finally have peace and quiet. It doesn’t last though.

Her quiet sanctuary is soon breached by no one than Mr. Nakamoto himself. He strolls in looking like freshly printed money and Yasirah finds herself wanting to slam his well-rested face into a wall. Yuta looks surprised to see her already in her seat but chooses to start preparing for the meeting as opposed to acknowledging her presence verbally. Or so she thought.

“Where’s your shirt?” He asks out of the blue. She looks up at him and stares blankly as her brain tries to comprehend what he just said to her. Yuta helps her out by gesturing to the SGA insignia embroidered on his polo that matches the one that Yasirah would be wearing as well if she hadn’t forgotten all about it until this very moment. She groans deeply at the thought of the shirt buried somewhere in the pile of laundry that Wheein had finally forced her to do yesterday. It’s a fifteen dollar fine and a “stern talking to” from Seokjin every time they forget to wear it to general body meetings and official school events. A novel punishment but one that she hasn’t been subjected to all school year. 

Yasirah has resigned herself to having to pay the fine when something soft collides with her forehead and falls into her lap. It’s an SGA polo. Her head whips to look at Yuta who is writing on the white board as if he hasn’t just saved her twenty dollars. Not one to waste time, Yasirah snatches her own shirt over her head despite her present company and quickly replaces it with the shirt she’s been given. It’s a little big on her but it doesn’t matter. Yuta just saved her ass because she really didn’t want to hear Seokjin’s mouth today.

“Why?” She asks. The word hangs in the air more like an olive branch than a question of clarification.

“I always keep an extra in my bag in case I forget.” Yuta mentions, still facing  away from her. “I know a twenty dollar fine probably means nothing to you, but despite everything I don’t like the idea of you suffering and Seokjin is a stickler for rules no matter how laid back he seems.”

“Thank you.” Yasirah contemplates her next words carefully. “I’m sorry too…for everything.”

Yuta shrugs as he takes a seat in one of the chairs meant for the students who decide to show up tonight. 

“Water under the bridge but, if you’re still interested, I would be honored to have sex with you.” He grins devilishly at her shocked expression. Her mouth opens and shuts numerous times as she tries to come up with a response. Thankfully, Khushi walks in and saves her from her own hormones.

Yasirah curses up a storm the entire way to Yuta’s off campus apartment. She curses Normani. She curses Yuta. She curses every decision she’s made in her life that’s led her to this moment. She curses it all. Jaehyun had hosted a party at their place the night before and of course Normani just had to make the bright ass decision to mix her light and dark liquor. It’s a wonder the girl even made it home in one piece. She has been avoiding everything Yuta-related like the plague since the SGA meeting on Friday, but she’s nothing if she’s not a great friend so here she is staring at the front door of his apartment to get her best friend’s wallet. Yasirah’s fist meets his door a lot more aggressively than is necessary for a Sunday morning, but she doesn’t have it in her to care. She knocks again when she doesn’t hear any movement on the other side of the door.

Her patience is running incredibly thin and she contemplates leaving, but she told Normani that she would pick up her wallet so she knocks a third time. This time she finally hears what sounds like someone yelling from somewhere inside the apartment. The door swings open a second later to reveal Yuta in all his shirtless glory. A pair of gray sweatpants hang dangerously low on his trim hips. A reflective glint near his navel draws her attention away from his crotch long enough to register the fact that Yuta apparently has a belly button piercing. No shirt. Belly ring. Messy bed head. He looks like sex on legs and while Yasirah has never denied that Yuta is handsome being fully confronted with that fact when she hasn’t had sex in weeks is torture.

“Yasirah?” Yuta vigorously rubs at his tired eyes. There’s no way that she’s standing at his front door right now in the tiniest pair of shorts he’s ever seen. Alas, the scene in front of him remains the same when he drops his hands. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, trust me I’d rather be anywhere but here.” She somehow manages to clear the unsavory thoughts from her brain enough to muster up some of her usual sass. Yasirah can’t let him see how he affects her. It’s bad enough that he already knows that she wants him. “Normani left her wallet here so if you could give it to me so I can go that would be great.”

Yasirah knows she’s doing too much. She’s very aware of that fact, but now that everything is out in the open she doesn’t know how to act around Yuta so she’s defaulted to what she knows best. He narrows his eyes at her but says nothing. She takes a few deep breaths to compose herself when he disappears back into his apartment without a word. He thrusts the wallet into Yasirah’s outstretched hand when he returns. She grabs hold of it expecting for this to be the end of this unwanted interaction but the of course men ruin everything. Yuta yanks on the wallet, wrapping his free arm around Yasirah’s waist to keep her steady when she comes tumbling at him.

“What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your fucking mind?” Yasirah is incredulous and yet even to her own ears her words have no bite. She’s motionless in her arms, staring up at his unfairly beautiful face.

“You talk too much.” His lips cover hers in a searing kiss that makes her lightheaded. Nobody has ever kissed her with this much emotion and Yasirah can already see herself becoming addicted to that feeling. 

She moves along with him when he steps backwards into his apartment until he’s able to close the door and press her against it. Normani’s wallet hits the ground but neither one of them can find it in them to care. Too wrapped up in each other to worry about whether or not anything falls out of it. A groan vibrates deep in Yuta’s chest when he grips her ass in both of his hands, using his hold on her to grind himself against her center. She gasps at the pressure on her engorged clit. It feels so good but it’s not enough. His now unoccupied lips busy themselves with mapping out the sensitive spots along her neck while her fingers tug on his hair with every successful find. 

If she had the presence of mind, Yasirah would be embarrassed at the way she whimpers when Yuta completely separates himself from her. She reaches for him but he keeps moving further and further away. Her feet start moving, seemingly on their own accord, to follow him. 

The play follow the leader all the way to his bedroom where he stops to stand next to his bed. Yasirah stands in the open door way suddenly unsure of herself. She’s trying to think with her brain and not her clit but they both seem to be in very horny agreement. It’s her heart that’s holding out. She’s got this weird feeling in her chest that this is going to be monumental in some way. Two against one are damning odds and she seals her fate with the soft click of the lock on his bedroom door.

“Where are your roommates?” Yasirah questions hesitantly.

“Not here.” That’s all she needs to know.

Yuta’s hands are all over her the second she’s back within arm’s reach of him. He eases her down onto his bed, pushing the mess of blankets out of the way the best that he can without detaching his lips from hers. He’s spent his entire college career thus far fantasizing what it would be like to have her beneath him like this and Yuta plans to savor every moment.

He memorizes every whimper and satisfied sigh as he maps out her sweet spots with his wandering hands. It’s when he flicks at her clit with his thumb that he discovers his true weakness. His name falls from Yasirah’s lips on the heels of a moan as she reaches down to grab a fistful of his hair. He nearly loses it then and there.

“Say it again.” Yuta demands. He sucks her clit into his mouth and laves the sensitive bud with his tongue in earnest. His efforts are greatly rewarded as his name echoes off of the walls of his room like a desperate plea for mercy.

Yasirah lifts her hips in an attempt to roll them against his face, but Yuta is having none of that. He uses one arm to anchor her hips to the bed with strength that she would’ve never guessed that he possessed. Yasirah had always thought that he was weak almost dainty even. Being proved wrong pushes her that much closer to the precipice. Yasirah is forced to take what he gives her, nothing more and nothing less. Thankfully, Yuta is a generous lover. Her back arches when he slides two of his elegant fingers knuckle deep into her gushing cunt. He watches her intently from his spot between her legs as he slowly drags his fingers out of her until he finds what he’s looking for. 

Stars dance behind Yasirah’s eye lids as Yuta’s assault on her clit is amplified by him constantly prodding at her g spot. It’s taking all of her mental fortitude to keep from accidentally crushing his skull between her thighs but she’s quickly losing herself to the pleasure. The whole time he’s watching her. He doesn’t want to miss a thing. Yasirah blinks her eyes open long enough to make eye contact with him between her legs and it’s more than she can take. She shoves her fist in her mouth at the last second to muffle her screams as her orgasm hits her with the force of a speeding bullet train. Yuta works her through it until the oversensitivity becomes too much and she pushes him away. 

Tremors wrack her body as Yuta shifts back onto his haunches. He fiddles with the waistband of his sweatpants nervously. Insecure thoughts about what Yasirah might think of him cloud his mind but he shoves them away along with his sweatpants. He’s focused on getting his pants off his legs without toppling off of the bed like a fool and misses the way Yasirah’s mouth drops open at the sight of him hard and ready to ruin her. He’s slightly above average in length and thicker than a beer can. Her eyes nearly roll back in her head at the mere thought of how well he’s going to stretch her out. 

Yuta is taken by surprise when he finally gets his pants off only to be forced onto his back. He doesn’t take long to catch on though. His hands knead at her ass as Yasirah grinds along his rigid length, coating him in her arousal. He watches her in amazement. His eyes dart from her face contorted in pleasure to the tantalizing way her breast sway with every rock of her hips to the mess of their combined excitement pooling on his abdomen. He wants this image, this moment permanently burned into the back of his eyelids for all eternity. 

“Condom.” Yuta is so focused on making her feel good that he doesn’t comprehend what she’s saying to him. Yasirah ignores the way her heart melts at Yuta cutely blinking up at her in confusion and repeats herself. “Condom, Yuta. We need a condom.”

He finally catches up to the moment, rolling them over so that he can dig around in his nightstand for a condom. His breath catches in his throat when Yasirah snatches the foil packet from him to roll the latex on him herself. She strokes him a few times before urging Yuta onto his back once again. The time for teasing is long gone. Her nails dig into the bare skin of his chest when she lines him up with her entrance, taking all of him in a single plunge. Yuta bares his throat at the feeling of being inside her. He swears that he hear angels singing whatever song it is that they sing in times of immense joy. Yasirah is just as affected above him as she adjusts to the stretch. She feels like she’s being split in half in the best way possible. 

Yuta sings her praises endlessly as Yasirah sets a steady rhythm that has the both of them flying high. He meets every downward motion of her hips with an upward thrust of his own. Every ounce of his concentration is focused on finding that elusive spot that he knows will make her scream his name like he wants. Yasirah’s hips stutter suddenly as a garbled mess of curse half words falls from her lips. 

“There it is.” He grunts. The gravelly sound sends a thrill down her spine as she gushes around him.

Yuta is merciless as he makes sure to batter the spot he’s mapped out. Yasirah does her best to keep up but she’s quickly overwhelmed. Seeing her plight, Yuta urges her down to him until they’re chest to chest, wrapping his arms around her. He slows his pace to a gentle rocking of his body in and out of hers as he kisses her lips tenderly. But she’s craving more. The desire to be aching from him for days drives her pleas for Yuta to fuck her harder, faster, and he is only too happy to obliger her demands.

Yasirah’s nails are beginning to draw blood where they’re digging into his shoulder blades but Yuta couldn’t care less. He’s dancing on the edge of something monumental and he fully intends to take her with him. A flash of white hot heat shoots down his spine and he’s coming. Yasirah tumbles over the edge right behind him, twitching in his hold from the force of her orgasm. 

Normally, she’d be damn near comatose after coming that hard but Yuta’s dick is more than just big; it’s magical as well. Yasirah feels like invigorated and tingly. She can feel the soreness starting to set in as the two of them try to catch their breath but she’s feeling the urge to go do volunteer work and bake cookies. 

“Wanna go again?” Yuta asks once his heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He grins devilishly when Yasirah moves to position herself between his outstretched legs. He sends a silent prayer up to God to keep his roommates away as long as possible.

Yuta drums on the top of Mark’s head playfully as he joins him, Khushi, and Jaehyun at the table they’ve staked out in the library. Midterms are coming up so they’re all supposed to be studying but it’s clear from the sheer amount of snacks piled in the center of the table that there won’t be much learning going on tonight. 

“Yo, where are all the other areas?” Jaehyun asks Yuta the second he sits down. Mark and Khushi groan out, clearly already having been tortured by whatever weed-induced epiphany that Jaehyun has had.

“Other areas?”

“Yeah, like the government tried to hide Area 51 but we found out. So where are areas 1 through 50?” Jaehyun slams his hand down onto his closed textbook authoritatively. “I’m telling you man something hinky is going on here.”

“It’s the American government, Jae. Something hinky is always going on.” Khushi deadpans. That only triggers another realization for Jaehyun as forces them to listen to another one of his theories about the government. Mark drags him to go buy more snacks since they apparently don’t have enough, leaving Khushi and Yuta to enjoy a few moments of peace.

Yuta checks his phone for the millionth time in the past hour. All that’s waiting for him is a few emails from professors, a shipping notification from Amazon, and a calendar notification reminding him to pay his rent. He opens his text messages to make sure his phone isn’t just playing him for a fool, but Yasirah has in fact not texted him back. They’d been spamming each other with spongebob memes, a personal favorite of hers he’s discovered, but she had yet to reply to the one he’d sent her nearly an hour ago.

“Why are you staring at your phone like it ruined your life?” Yuta waves Khushi off, tensing up when the slim device vibrates in his hand. He doesn’t even get a chance to read the message before his phone is snatched from him.

“Yaya?” Khushi questions with a suspicious look on his face. “That better not be who I think it is.”

“Thinking is bad, Kush. Now give me my phone back, please.” Yuta reaches across the table to try and take his phone back, but Khushi uses his long arms to his advantage to keep it out of his reach. Yuta’s anxiety is shooting through the room as he scrambles up to get his phone back when he see Khushi’s fingers sliding around the screen.

“You filthy liar!” Khushi doesn’t resist when Yuta snatches his phone from him. To in shock by whatever it was he saw. Yuta is relieved to see that he didn’t go through their messages, but he knows there’s no use in lying about who the message is from anymore when he sees Yasirah’s contact screen open on his phone.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, Khushi. I’m so deadass. She might actually kill me.” Yuta does his best to convey the seriousness of this situation. Khushi makes a grand gesture of pretending to lock his lips and toss away the key.

“Your secret is safe with me, but how long has this been going on? If you don’t me asking that is.” Khushi is the picture of bewilderment as he tries to process the fact the secret he just uncovered.

“A few weeks.” Yuta’s responds absentmindedly as he goes back to his texts to see what Yasirah said. His eyes nearly bug out of his head at what he sees. 

YaYa: TL 1022 🏇🏽

YaYa: door code is 0956

“I gotta go.” He rushes out while shoving his stuff back into his bag. Khushi shakes his head as he watches Yuta bold for the exit like his ass is on fire. He’d always known that the two of them had the potential to go down this path but never in a million years did he actually think it would happen.

If someone had told Yuta a month ago that he would be balls deep in Yasirah Coleman several times a week, he would’ve had them committed. Now here he is not even thinking twice about abandoning his studies when his phone buzzes with messages that are obviously an invitation to a booty call. As a business law major, she shouldn’t have access to the practice rooms that are strictly for instrumental music majors but it seems that she has once again defied all of the odds. Probably one of the many perks of being related to the university’s most favored donors. It’s a ten minute walk from the library to the TL building but he plans to do it in five. He’s already at half mast at the thought of bending her over to have his way with her.

The sight that greets Yuta when he enters the practice room nearly sends him to an early grave. Yasirah sits atop the baby grand piano in the corner just as naked as the day she was born. The lighting is shitty but that doesn’t stop her soaked folds from glistening tantalizingly. Yuta’s mouth is watering as he approaches the siren that summons him in her neediest times, dropping to his knees without a word. Not like they need to speak anyway. They’ve become masters at reading each other’s bodies like the backs of their hands. He works hard to get her off quickly as he strums her body into a fever pitch. Yasirah’s still coming down from her high when Yuta slides in deep. 

All traces of the sun have disappeared when they finally emerge from their temporary paradise. Yasirah whines at the way her legs protest her every move until Yuta eventually takes pity on her and hoists her into his arms. She directs him to her car in near empty parking lot, surprising him by hopping into the passenger seat once he’s set her down. 

“How in the world are you going to drive from over there?”

“I’m not. You are now get in.” Yuta gags on his own spit. No way in hell she expects him to drive her very expensive car, but from her rapidly souring expression that is exactly what she means for him to do and she’s getting agitated with him not following directions. 

He drops his bag onto the backseat before carefully getting behind the wheel. The engine roars to life with a push of a button. Yuta begs God not to let anything happen to this car while he’s responsible for it before hesitantly easing out of the space. They both yelp when he accidentally gives it too much gas as he pull out of the parking lot. The drive is uneventful after that but he’s never been more thankful to see an apartment complex come into view in all of his days. 

“So,” Yuta holds her door open as Yasirah stretches her stiff limbs next to the car, “I guess this is good night?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Good night, Yuta.” She presses her lips to his in farewell. Yuta’s blushes at the way he chases her for more when she pulls away.

“Good night, Yasirah.” He whispers into the void between them. She pecks his lips once more before locking her car and making her way to her apartment. Yuta stands watch to make sure she makes it inside safely, turning to walk down the street to his own apartment. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

YaYa: text me when you get home so I know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere

To most people, Yasirah’s message might be off putting considering that he was literally inside her twenty minutes ago, but Yuta knows better. He sees right through her like a freshly cleaned window. Yasirah might talk a big game but she cares or she wouldn’t have even thought about bothering to make sure he got home okay. Yuta contemplates calling Khushi, his only confidant in all of this, to once again get his advice on how to lure Yasirah into his romantic trap, but decides that he’s probably bothered him enough about his troubles for the week. 

Yuta: made it home without a scratch

YaYa: good and I want you to know I saw your little “gift” on my ass when I got out of the shower

He chuckles at the thought of the mark he’d left square in the middle of her right ass cheek as something to remember him by. He can only imagine how she plans to get back at him for that one. No matter what her twisted little brain comes up with, he’s sure that he’ll love it.

“Reality is a cruel bitch.” Yasirah mumbles as she scrolls through the bath & body works website.  The semiannual sale is in full swing which means it’s time to stock up on candles and shower gels but unfortunately for her and everyone around her she hasn’t had an opportunity to go to the local store to sniff everything and make her decision on which ones to buy. Her victim of the hour is Yuta who has dutifully listened to her complaints as he rubs down her muscles after a particularly active rendezvous at the beach house Yasirah’s parents own not far from the university. Their favorite place to hook up whenever they’ve got the time.

“Don’t they do this sale twice a year? Is it really going to kill you to miss it this time?” He asks. To him it’s just overpriced candles and lotions, but Yasirah obviously holds them in much higher regard.

“I will in fact keel over and die if I don’t get new candles. I’m on my last one. I can’t live like this.” She whines thought it morphes into a moan when Yuta works out a knot in between her shoulder blades. His cock twitches against her ass at the sound and soon enough she’s much too distracted by the carnal desire to be one with him to worry about the plight of her candle collection.

A few days later and Yasirah is on the verge of madness. It seems like the harder she tries to make her way across town to the mall, the more stuff she has to do. She’s starting to think that some divine force doesn’t want her to go spend a small fortune on candles at this point. Her friend Madison who works in the office of student engagement texts her saying that someone just left a package for her in the SGA mailbox. More than a little intrigued, Yasirah books it over to the student center to see what it is before her next class. Her legs are going to hate for this unscheduled jog later but she’s pressed for time.

She’s thoroughly out of breath when she waves to Madison on her way to the small room that holds the mailboxes for the various organizations across campus. If she wasn’t already gasping for breath, Yasirah would definitely be in desperate need of oxygen when she spots the trademark red and yellow bag indicative of the semiannual sale. Yasirah rips it out of the cubby hole its stuffed in, nearly crying when she realizes that it’s full of candles in various scents. She notices that one of them has a note taped to it.

I bought you a few of this one since it smelled so good. I even bought one for myself because it reminds me of you. Hope you enjoy them beautiful!

Yuta

The ethics class she’d been pressed to get back to is quickly pushed to the back burner. Her heart melts at the thought of Yuta sniffing all of the candles in bath & body words just to make sure she didn’t miss out. She unscrews the lid on the candle that bears his note, golden hibiscus, and it smells almost exactly like the new leave in conditioner that she’s grown fond of. Yasirah thinks back on all of the post-sex cuddles that have all included a remark on how good her hair smelled. It’s in that moment that Yasirah realizes that she’s a lot more attached to Yuta than she had originally she thought. This is new territory for her as she’s never felt attraction for men beyond the physical pleasure they can bring her. An intense fear grips her as she leaves the student center to go to her ethics class. She shoots off a quick text to Yuta thanking him for the candles out of obligation and respect but she fully intends for that to be the last time she speaks to him. He wields more power over her than he probably realizes and she’ll be damned if she’ll give him the opportunity to use it against her.

Yuta is on the verge of madness. He’s called. He’s texted. He’s even emailed. But Yasirah has gone totally off the grid. Nothing he tries illicit a response from her and for a minute he was starting to think that something may have happened to her, but what he saw earlier made him realize that something much deeper is going on with her. He’d watched the woman in question receive a text from only to purposefully ignore it. For the life of him, Yuta can’t think what it is that he could’ve done to deserve this which is why he’s knocking on Khushi’s door looking for guidance.

“This better be real fucking important for you to be interrupting my nap.” Khushi grumbles. Yuta knew that he was risking his life by interrupting his friend’s daily scheduled nap, but it just couldn’t be help.

“If it’s any consolation,” Yuta produces a Chick-fil-a bag from behind his back, “I brought you nuggets. I drank the tea though. It’s hot as balls outside.”

“Polynesian sauce?” Khushi narrows his eyes at the man currently trying to bribe his way into his apartment. His hand grips the door tightly, ready to slam it shut at any given moment should the bribe fall short.

“A whole handful of them.” Relief washes over Yuta when Khushi steps to the side to allow him entrance. Khushi can already feel the regret setting in but he’s weak for chicken nuggets especially when they’re free and come with an assload of polynesian sauce.

Yuta collapses onto the couch in the living room and proceeds to spill his guts as if Khushi is a licensed therapist. Khushi chimes in here and there to get clarification but primarily just lets Yuta talk while he focuses on his nuggets and fries. It quickly becomes clear to him exactly what has happened. These two fuck wits have fallen head over heels for each other but in typical Yasirah fashion she has run for the hills to avoid succumbing to her own feelings. Nothing Yuta could have said or done would’ve stopped this from happening despite him thinking the opposite.

“Listen man, you just need to talk to her. Pull her to the side after the meeting on Thursday and clear the air then.” Khushi’s suggestion is based in sound logic and a working knowledge on how Yasirah generally reacts to confrontation. The look on Yuta’s face; however, says that he has absolutely wasted his breath even mentioning his idea. He can practically see the gears turning behind his friend’s eyes. Nothing good is bound to come from that.

“Jaehyun says that she’s super jealous and possessive so what if I use that to my advantage?” 

Khushi can tell that Yuta believes this to be a top tier plan as he goes on to describe exactly how he intends to do that. He was right to believe that nothing good would come from this love sick man’s thought processes. Yuta is so hell bent on getting Yasirah back that his judgement is clouded in a major way. Khushi prepares himself for another barrage of texts and calls when this inevitably goes south. He really should start charging these two numb nuts for all the stress they’re putting him through. 

Taco Tuesday, otherwise known as the most sacred day of the week, is one of the few things about college that Yasirah is very heavily attached to. Every Tuesday afternoon between the hours of three and five pm she can be found holding down the fort in the dining hall gorging herself on tacos while she studies. It’s become such a consistent ritual that by the time she’s swiped into the dining hall four starter tacos are already waiting for her at her usual table just the way she likes them. Chorizo, cotija cheese, and salsa verde with three lime wedges. 

She’s halfway through an assignment for her business law class when movement at one of the other tables in her section catches her attention. A small smile graces Yasirah’s face before she can stop it when she realizes that it’s Yuta. He’s got his headphones in and he’s typing away at his phone so he’s blissfully unaware of her presence. In spite of her earlier decision to avoid him, Yasirah is halfway out of her chair to go get his attention when some random girl she’s never seen before plucks one of his headphones out of his ear before plopping down in his lap. Instead of pushing her off like Yasirah expects him too, Yuta seems only too happy to let her remain perched in his lap.

Yasirah’s fist clench up at her sides. It’s been a long time since she’s been this enraged. She takes deep, calming breaths as she reminds herself that Yuta is not her boyfriend and she has no romantic claim to him. She repeats that to herself and it works for a while. A girlish giggle interrupts her concentration, making her eye twitch. Yasirah’s stomach turns when she looks up to see Yuta whispering in her ear which is the apparent source of the god awful noice that’s coming out of her mouth. They look every bit like a happy couple content with each other’s presence as they eat tacos. It’s sickening.

“Am I the only one here that respects the sanctity of Taco Tuesday?” Yasirah demands, slamming her fist down on the table hard enough to nearly knock her drink over. Yuta and his companion have the audacity to look sheepish as she stares the both of them down.

“Hey, Yasirah. I didn’t see you over there.” Yuta says.

“How could you with Ms. Anime Titties here blocking your view? Don’t worry about it though. This sickening display has ruined my appetite so I’m leaving.” Yasirah shoves her MacBook into her backpack unceremoniously and makes a hasty exit. She can hear Yuta calling after her but she’d rather chew through a brick wall than look at him for even one more second. Her BMW is peeling out of the parking lot by the time he reaches it. Yuta curses the heavens. This isn’t how he thought this would go. He pulls his phone out to call Khushi and hopes that his friend knows how to fix the giant mess he just made.

“If you called me to talk about Yuta, I’m hanging up on your ass.” Khushi had contemplated sending the call to voicemail, but he’s nothing if he’s not a sucker for his friends. He always answers the call when they need him but it’s days like today that he wishes he wasn’t so damn reliable. First Yuta and now Yasirah. The day these two dumbasses figure out how to communicate with each other without using him as a middle man is the day he will finally know peace. Unfortunately, that day has yet to come.

“Khushi, please!” Yasirah pleads with him. She knows he’s tired of hearing her rant about Yuta, but Jaehyun is the only other person that knows about their arrangement and she’s definitely not about to ask him for advice. “I’ll buy you milkshakes for a month just help me.”

Silence rings loudly in her ear.

“A month you say?” Khushi acquiesces much to her joy. She really doesn’t know what she would’ve done if he hadn’t given in. Probably something stupid like go see Yuta and yell at him for having some whore sitting in his lap.

After agreeing to Khushi’s terms about his milkshake payment, Yasirah launches into the latest Yuta news. Khushi rolls his eyes dramatically when he realizes that today’s enemies with benefits crisis is the exact scenario that he had guessed that it would be. Yuta’s plan to make Yasirah jealous in an attempt to win her back — the very plan that Khushi had told him to abort immediately — was apparently wildly successful, but without the outcome that Yuta had been expecting. Yasirah is pissed off and jealous out of her mind just as they’d both predicted they would be. However, the fairytale outcome Yuta had dreamed up of her finally admitting her feelings and running right into his arms is nowhere close to coming to fruition. Instead, she’s doing exactly what Khushi had theorized and that’s working herself into a frenzy while she plans her revenge.

“What the hell am I supposed to do about this, Kush?” Yasirah is all but screaming in his ear and Khushi won’t be all that surprised if he’s unable to hear out of his right ear in the morning. “That stupid boy is playing in my face and he can’t get away with it. I know I kinda put things on pause but this is a matter of respect.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that he did that to make you jealous enough to confess your feelings for him?” Khushi asks, hoping that the truth will quell Yasirah’s anger enough for her to calm down and consider a plan of action that won’t end in hurt feelings. 

“Yuta is too smart to do some dumb shit like that.” Yasirah exclaims. If she only knew just how wrong she actually is. 

Khushi does his best to talk some sense into Yasirah but his efforts are in vain. No matter what he says she finds some convoluted way to refute it. He’s convinced that she doesn’t realize how crazed she sounds, but at this point there’s nothing he can do but let her put her own foolish plan into action. Part of him feels like he should warn Yuta of the hurricane headed his way, but ultimately decides that it’s useless. Neither one of them have listened to him so far, why would they suddenly start now?

Yasirah strides into the next exec board meeting nearly twenty minutes after it’s set start time just as nonchalant as if she walking through the park. She’s carrying two milkshakes, one of which she sets down in front of Khushi on her way to her seat. Taeil nearly falls out of his chair from the relief of not having to continue to take minutes for the meeting like he’d been forced to do. 

“How wonderful of you to join us, Ms. Coleman.” Seokjin says from his spot in the back of the room.

“We’ll see how wonderful it is in a minute.” Yasirah replies though her hardened gaze is fixed on Yuta. He swallows roughly out of nervousness but maintains eye contact with her nonetheless. You never take your eyes off a tigress when she’s poised to strike.

The meeting continues once Yasirah situates herself and picks up on the minutes where Taeil left off. The energy in the room is tense as she redefines the term, raging bitch. Everything out of Yuta’s mouth gets insulted until even Seokjin, who is normally silent, speaks up to defend him. Knowing that he’s the reason for the anger radiating off of Yasirah in waves, Yuta waves the advisor off.

“Anybody that can handle a little criticism shouldn’t be president of SGA, but then again this country has a history of putting incompetent men in charge just because they look nice and sound smarter than the average bear.” Yuta winces at her scathing remark as does everyone else in the room. It’s so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Deciding that she’s done what she came to do, Yasirah stands from her seat to leave before Seokjin can kick her out. She doesn’t feel nearly as good about how this went down as she thought she would.

Seokjin’s email the next morning summoning her to a meeting with both him and Yuta is not surprising in the slightest. Yasirah knows full well that her behavior in the meeting was excessive even by her own usual snarky standards. She’d picked up her phone countless times to call Yuta and apologize but her pride stopped her every time. She desperately wishes that she could erase the memory of how hurt he’d looked, but it’s burned into her brain. It kept her awake all night, taunting her whenever she closed her eyes until she’d abandoned the thought of sleep altogether.

The day passes by in a blur of classes and forgotten conversations. Not even Khushi can break Yasirah out of her funk during their daily Chick-fil-a outing which normally consists of her choking on her sweet tea at least once. 

“Rah?” Khushi waves his hand in front of her face in an effort to get her attention. She hums in acknowledgment thought she continues to pick apart the waffle fries Khushi has been trying to force her to eat. He sighs at her overcast attitude. It’s clear that he’s going to get nowhere with her.

Normani had said she was in bad shape when she’d texted him earlier, but he didn’t realize it was this bad. She’s but a mere shadow of her normal, vivacious self and he can’t help but think about Yuta who is in the exact same boat. Khushi has never met two people who deserved each other more. Both of them are so stubborn and prideful that it’s sickening to even think about. They’ve spent months waxing poetic about each other to him instead of just taking his advice and actually telling the other one how they feel. Now they might lose it all before they even have a chance to really get started. Khushi walks with her to the door of Seokjin’s office on the third floor of the student union, giving her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Hopefully the two idiots finally come to their senses and realize that they’re head over heels for each other.

Yasirah schools her face into a mask of indifference as she takes a seat in the empty seat next to Yuta. She can feel his eyes on her but she keeps her own gaze trained on Seokjin who is leaning against his desk in front of them. Though she refuses to acknowledge his presence in the slightest, Yasirah can feel some of the tension melt out of her shoulders just from being in the same room as Yuta and she can’t stand it. 

“I’m not going to beat around the bush here with you, Ms. Coleman.” Seokjin’s voice is stern as he stares her down. Yasirah winces at the sound of him addressing her so formally. He’s always treated the executive board more like his colleagues than students he’s been charged with babysitting. Apparently, she’s in more trouble than she’d realized.

“Your behavior last night was absolutely unacceptable. I know you like to think that you can just talk to people any way you want to because your last name is on a few buildings at this university, but you crossed a line.” Seokjin barrels ahead, holding up a hand when he notices that Yasirah is about to interrupt. “Yuta, do you have anything you’d like to say?”

Yasirah squares her shoulders, bracing for whatever it is that Yuta is about to unleash on her. If she’s learned anything about him in the time that they’ve known each other, she’s learned that Yuta never attacks his opponents head on. He finds weak points and carefully chips away at them until his opponent brings about their own destruction. She expects thinly veiled insults. She expects subtle attacks at her character. She doesn’t expect for him to go straight for the jugular by suggesting that her “gross lack of self-control and empathy” makes her unfit to hold a position in student government.

“You fucking cock sucker, how dare you?” Yasirah explodes before she can stop herself which, in hind sight, was exactly what he wanted from her. He was fishing for a reaction and he got exactly what he bargained for.

Seokjin steps in to intervene when the two students devolve into a screaming match. They continue to hurl insults and scathing remarks back and forth as if he hadn’t opened his mouth. His office has been the venue for more than one fight in his time at the university, but Seokjin quickly clues into the fact that there is more than petty disagreements coming to a head right now. He’s the holder of many degrees but it’s the gold band on his left hand that gave him the expertise to see through the curse words flying through the air. He grabs at the emergency air horn next to his laptop and gives it a few quick taps.

“Either one of you want to tell me what’s really going on here? I’m getting the feeling it’s about more than what happened last night during the meeting.” Seokjin looks from Yuta to Yasirah and back again but neither one of them seems to be too interested in speaking anymore. “I’ve got all night to sit here and stare and we’re not leaving this room until we get to the bottom of this.”

Yasirah becomes very fascinated by her own nail beds as the three of them sit and stew in the silence. Seokjin might think that he has enough time to wait her out but he is sadly mistaken. She is fully prepared to play his game. Yuta, on the other hand, is not. Fifteen minutes into their little game and he breaks. He spills his guts all over the linoleum in Seokjin’s office. Thankfully he leaves out the more sordid details but it’s enough to get his point across.

“Kids, as someone who has been happily married for the past four years, let me give you a tip.” Seokjin starts, mindlessly clicking a pen that he picked up at some point. “Talking to each other openly and honestly is the key to any successful relationship.”

“We aren’t in a relationship though.” Yasirah points out quickly. Labels have always weirded her out and sent her running for the hills.

“On the contrary, Yasirah. The second you decided you wanted him around for more than just sex, you were in a relationship whether you meant to be or not. Just because a jar of pickles doesn’t have a label on it saying pickles doesn’t mean that there isn’t still pickles in the jar.” 

As stupid as that analogy is, it makes something click in Yasirah’s brain. She looks over at Yuta, but he seems to have taken a page out of her book and refuses to make eye contact. It’s clear as day that the imbalance in power she thought had existed before was much more balanced than she’d thought. Yuta was just as enthralled with her as he was with him, but her own fear wouldn’t let her see it. Now, it might be too late and that scares her ever more. Seokjin urges her to say the words that she’s been holding back, but she can’t seem to bring herself to let them come out of her mouth.

“Fuck this. Nobody has to resign. I can finish out the year, but I’m done with the rest of this bullshit.” Yuta is out the door so fast Yasirah swears she can physically the air filling in the empty space where he’d once sat. She’s itching to follow after him but she can’t move. Her limbs feel like they’re being weighed down by cement blocks.

“Yasirah, I can see how scared you are,” Seokjin crouches down in front of her so that they’re eye to eye before he continues, “but I can also see that you care for him more than you even realize right now. If you don’t go after him now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Another beat of silence passes before Yasirah is up and out of her chair, racing down the stairs. 

That familiar head of platinum blonde hair is nowhere to be found when she reaches the first floor. She looks around frantically but there is still no sign of him. Yuta normally rides the free shuttle bus to and from campus but her feet carry her in the opposite direction towards the parking lot instead. Her shoulders sag in relief when she spots him tossing his bag into the back seat of his car. 

“Yuta, wait!” He looks absolutely bewildered to see her running at him full speed like a bullet train. 

“Jesus Christ I need to work out.” Yasirah pants when she finally reaches him, tightly wrapping her arms around his waist while she hides her face in the crook of his neck.. The adrenaline rush that had fueled her mad dash to the parking lot is quickly wearing off. Yuta gently tries to extricate himself from her hold but she simply holds on tighter.

“I’m sorry that I’m an insufferable bitch. I like that you buy me candles because they remind you of me. I like that you appreciate my stupid memes. I like that you’re you and I hope you still like me too.” She blubbers out in a rush. Yuta’s chest feels like it’s going to burst at any given moment. He imagines that this has got to be what it feels like to win the lottery.

“I like that you’re you too.” He whispers. The halo of curls tickling his nose draws him in with the intoxicating hibiscus scent that he’s missed so much. It’s so inherently her and he can feel the tension melt from his body with every deep inhale. 

“Is this the part where I ask to be your girlfriend?” Yuta shivers at the words that Yasirah whispers against his neck. “I’ve never done this before and I’m tired of fucking it up so just tell me what to do.”

“Well first,” Yuta escorts Yasirah around the front of his car and opens the passenger door, “I’m going to take my girlfriend to get ice cream.”

“Fuck yes! Can we go to Boombalattis?” She pleads once he’s behind the wheel, turning up the charm just in case he’d entertained the thought of saying no.

“Anything for you.”

Yuta hums a made up tune as he softly trails his fingers up and down Yasirah’s bare back. Goosebumps follow his fingers as they glide across her skin. He knows she’s awake yet neither one is too keen on breaking the silence that’s wrapped around them like a warm blanket. The hand that had rested against his rib cage abandons it’s post as Yasirah reaches up to fiddle with the simple silver chain around Yuta’s neck. A glance at the digital clock on her desk across the room dumps a bucket of ice on his joyous mood. He has to leave soon if he wants to avoid her roommates. He’s surprised that she even let him spend the night to begin with. As if she can sense the change in the air, Yasirah clings to him. 

“Babe, I have to go.” He doesn’t want to leave just as much as she wants him to stay. She fits so perfectly in his arms and he wants to keep her there forever, but she doesn’t want anyone to know about their relationship yet so he has to leave. The now familiar bitterness threatens to twist his face into a scowl at all of the time they have to sacrifice just for her to save face in front of their friends.

“No.” Yasirah shifts until she’s on top of Yuta with all of her limbs wrapped around him. “I want you to stay.”

His heart flutters at what that could mean. He wants nothing more than to hold her hand in the broad daylight. To proudly show the world just how much he cares for her. Yuta has learned not to get his hopes up too high though. This isn’t the first time he’s thought that she would give up this secrecy bullshit only to get let down. He allows her to stay there for a while. Too weak to lift her off of him so he can get dressed. Unfortunately, time waits for no one and he’s dangerously close to getting caught here if he doesn’t get moving. As tough as she claims to be, Yasirah isn’t strong enough to withstand Yuta digging his fingers into her sides playfully. The high pitched squeal she lets out brings a smile to his own face as he successfully tickles her to the other side of the bed. He leaps into action before she can gather her wits and is already half dressed by the time she catches her breath.

“I should beat your ass for that, Nakamoto.” She threatens as she glares at him. The thin sheet that had been covering her falls away when she crawls towards the edge of the bed. He curses the way his cock hardens at the sight of her on her hands and knees before him. She’s not playing fair.

It takes an act of God, but he manages to leave without giving into her siren call. His phone pings with a text message just as he about to pull out of his parking space. After seeing it’s from Yasirah, he puts his car back in park and opens it. Spit flies from his mouth as he chokes violently. He’s not sure what he expected but an aerial shot of her naked body spread out for him wasn’t on the list. The picture doesn’t show her face so he doesn’t feel bad about saving it to his phone before shooting off a reply and dropping his phone in the cup holder. She’s going to be the death of him one of these days.

Yasirah stretches like a cat in the sun. She imagines Yuta is somewhere in the parking lot choking on his own spit over the picture she’d sent him on a whim. The only thing that could make this sweeter is being able to see it first hand, but her imagination will have to suffice for now.

She’s just laid down after showering and changing her bed sheets when Yasirah hears the front door open and close. She quickly jumps up to go see her friends, but stops short when she sees Wheein sniffing at the air like a bloodhound that just caught the scent of a fresh kill. The girl has the strongest olfactory senses she’s ever seen in a human which is why she’d made sure to open some windows and spray down the entire apartment with Febreze. Apparently, her efforts were in vain.

“There was a penis in this apartment.” Wheein says with conviction, staring Yasirah down where she stands in the hallway.

“Man, Wheein. Just say there was a man in here.” Normani sounds exhausted and Yasirah is sure that between the long weekend training they’d had to attend and the energy drink that Wheein is clutching in one hand, she’s beyond tired. 

“That lacks pizazz.” Wheein replies, hopping up on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs like a toddler. “So, who was it? Was he hot? Was his dick as big as Jaehyun’s?”

“What are you talking about, Whee? It was Jaehyun.”

“No, it wasn’t. Jaehyun smells like weed and cologne with a hint of sweaty balls. That is not what I’m smelling right now.” Yasirah should’ve known that she couldn’t fool Wheein. “So, who was it? Do I know him?”

Yasirah takes a second to figure out how to respond. She decides to play it safe. “No, I don’t think you know him. He doesn’t go to school with us.”

Her heart nearly beats out of her chest in the three seconds it takes Wheein to process and respond to her answer. She seems to take it as the truth, wishing her luck in her new dick endeavors before heading off to her own bedroom. Yasirah lets out a deep sigh of relief. She knows that everyone will find out eventually, but she wants to be the one to tell them and she wants to do it when she’s ready.

Car sex is absolutely abhorrent and Yuta is willing to die on that hill. His legs are bent at the most awkward angle. He’s hit his head on the door a concerning amount of times. He’s also quite certain that they’ve sucked all of the oxygen out of the vehicle with all of their panting. If it wasn’t for the fact that he is absolutely whipped for Yasirah, he’d have never agreed to putting himself through this type of torture after discovering just how awful it was the first time they’d tried it.

“Don’t you think this would be more comfortable in one of the beds that we get extorted to sleep in?” Yuta asks once they’re done. Yasirah rolls her eyes, knowing exactly where he’s going with this. 

“We’ve gone over this already, Yuta.” The look in her eye is frosty when she finally looks up at him, but her glares have long since lost their effect on him. Even if they hadn’t, he is entirely too frustrated to care about if she’s mad at him or not. 

“No, you’ve gone over this already and I just went along with it but I’m tired of that. What’s the point of dating if I can’t date you in public?” His mind calls up the memory of the day they went to go get ice cream after the cluster fuck of a meeting they’d had with Seokjin. That had been the first and last time they’d gone out together as a couple.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Yasirah’s chest feels tight with fear at the possibility that she could have pushed Yuta away with her selfish desire to live in this secret bliss. Every memory is their own. Untainted by the presence of others and she wants to keep it that way for as long as possible.

“No, I’m in this with you for as long as you’ll have me. I just wish everyone else knew that too.”

Yuta’s words play over and over in Yasirah’s head all through the night. What she wants and what she knows is right are at odds right now. She can’t continue to avoid the issue anymore because Yuta isn’t going to tolerate her hesitance forever. He deserves someone who loves him loudly and dammit she is going to be that someone.

Yuta rocks back and forth on his heels as he patiently waits his turn to place his order at Starbucks. Yasirah had texted him earlier about meeting up here before the exec board meeting so he figured he may as well grab a couple chai teas. Only one more person stands between him and the overpriced iced deliciousness he craves when he feels a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. The scent of hibiscus and honey teases his senses, striking him with both fear and joy.

“Hey, pretty.” The whispered compliment is followed by a chaste kiss to his temple. 

“Hey, pretty.” He playfully repeats. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into her today, but he doesn’t question it in fear that she’ll stop and go back to pretending like she doesn’t beg him for kisses in private. 

Yasirah rests her head on his shoulder, arms still tightly wrapped around his middle, as she waits with him line only letting go so that she can take her drink from the barista once it’s ready. She surprises Yuta yet again when she grabs his free hand in hers. This time he’s not successful at keeping his questions at bay. 

“Who are you and what have you done to my girlfriend?” His heart drops when she slips her hand out of his grip. He knew he should’ve kept his mouth closed. 

“Did you or did you not say you wanted everyone to know we’re dating?” She stops walking to stare him down in the middle of the busy sidewalk much to the annoyance of the people now forced to walk around them.

“I do but you said-” Yuta doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

“Fuck what I said. Now are you going to hold my hand or not?” Yasirah smiles victoriously when Yuta slots his fingers between hers. There’s still an uneasy feeling in her chest as they resume their journey to the political science building, but she pushes it down for his sake. No matter how much he wants this he’ll give it all up if he sees her panicking and she wants to do this for him.

Yasirah’s mind is racing with how their friends will react. Will they be happy? Upset? Various scenarios fill her brain to the point that she doesn’t even notice they’ve reached their destination until Yuta gently turns her head to face him.

“I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t have to.” God, this man. She really doesn’t know what country she saved in a past life to deserve him. Yasirah leans in to press her lips against his.

“No, we’ve waited long enough.”

They step through the door hand in hand to a chorus of gasps. Yuta seems to believe it but Yasirah’s keen senses pick up on the scent of bullshit in the air. Something is not right here. One look at Wheein and she knows the truth. This is why she sucks at poker. She wears her thoughts on her plain as day.

“Spill.” Wheein gulps when all of the attention is turned on her. She avoids eye contact with Yasirah, knowing full well that her best friend and roommate is incredibly aware of all her trigger points to break her. Deciding to avoid the misery of drawing this out, she caves.

“I told them.” Wheein whines. Yasirah loves her to pieces but she couldn’t keep a secret even if you paid her so she’s not surprised that it got now that she knows that Wheein was in on it. The only question at this point is how she knew.

“Wheein, how did you even figure it out?” Yuta asks, beating Yasirah to the punch.

“I smelled you. You smelled just like the guy you had in the apartment that day.” Yasirah rolls her eyes skywards. Leave it to Wheein’s supersonic olfactory senses to expose the truth behind her lies. She thought she had dodged a bullet by telling her she didn’t know who it was only to realize now that she’d stepped right into the line of fire.

Wheein’s confession leads to even more shocking revelations as the rest of the exec board starts detailing little things they’d noticed but hadn’t given much thought to. An Iron Maidens t-shirt that Yuta had mentioned missing turning up in Yasirah’s laundry. The lingering floral scent of leave-in conditioner that an apartment of smelly men wouldn’t have any use for. To think that they’d thought they had everyone fooled with all of their sneaking around when actually everyone had been betting to see how long it would take for them to realize that they all knew. 

“Well since the cat’s out of the bag now, let’s get this show on the road.” Seokjin prompts from his seat off to the side. This wasn’t one of the outcomes that Yasirah had envisioned but she’s happy about it nonetheless. She squeezes Yuta’s hand one final time under the table once they’ve taken their seats, hoping that it conveys everything she wants to say but can’t. He nudges her knee with his with a wink in her direction. If perfect was an achievable goal, Yasirah would definitely say that she’s reached it.

[callme--starchild]

Auntie Goldie

Summary: Unca' Scrooge has a girlfriend! And Donald couldn't be happier for that.

Donald didn't think there were ducks the same or more rich and more amazing than his dear Unca' Scrooge, he thought sucking his thumb like any four-year-old kid would. But there he was, in a ball dedicated to the most powerful people in Duckburg.

Even if they weren't as amazing as his uncle.

Even so, being surrounded, the boy felt intimidated by so many unknown presences, and curled up in the old duck's chest, wrapping in his heartbeat like a lullaby.

"Ah wan' ta go ta th' m'or, Unca' Scrooge" babbled as he could, despite the finger in his bill and his partially distorted voice.

Even so, his caregiver seemed to understand the communicated message, and gave him a smile scooping him on his arm, holding the cane with his free hand as he continued to enter the Club, not worrying if the duckling's little hands wrinkled his deeply ironed suit.

"Dinnae worry, Donnie. Yer unkie jus' needs tae find new entrepreneurs t' socialize wit'. We willnae be here long. Besides, ye look absolutely charming in yer suit," adding, he tickled his nephew's belly, satisfied with the giggle that caused on him and dispelled his fear.

Of course, he was no longer Donald's Papa, constant visits and talks by Hortense made the infant perceive the genealogical difference between Quackmore and Scrooge; but that did not disturb the strong affection that the old Scotsman had since then.

"Besides, Ah'll be with ye all th' time. Who knows wha' yer mother would do with Unca' Scrooge if something will happen t' ye," for a few seconds he thought of joking, playfully saying that his sister would kill him if she knew that her son was injured in the care of the old duck; but he considered it knowing that this would not be the right vocabulary for a wee child.

Besides that he also didn't want to consider the possibility of the lad getting hurt. Much less being in his care.

Donald pulled his thumb from his bill at his uncle's words, giving him a smile despite the saliva that ran through his finger.

"But Ah know ye will never let anything happen to me, Unca' Scrooge. Ye're tougher than toughies after all!" With clear pride, Donald exclaimed raising a finger skyward.

Suffice it to cause a warm smile in the elder, taking with little problematic a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat to clean the nephew's salivated hand.

"That's right, Donald. And smarter than the smarties, just like ye." Finishing to clean his hand, he winked at his, self-satisfied with the smile the younger one was sketching.

After reassuring the little duckling, he firmly held his cane again and continued to enter the Gala of the Billionaire Club, saluting the millionaires he already knew.

He tried not to smile and remain stoic when Donald innocently corresponded to the greeting with a gesture and a bright look, keeping the manners learned in his short period of life.

He continued to avoid the aristocracy, furtively analyzing the face of each of them until the buffet began to glimpse, perceiving how almost immediately the child extends both hands, trying to take each snack despite the obvious distance.

"Are ye hungry? But if we ate before coming." Scrooge laughed softly, holding Donald and putting his other hand on his chest feeling his heartbeat. He finally reached the huge table and lowered the duck at his feet. "Whatever ye do, dinnae get away from Unkie Scrooge, awricht?"

He soon felt the little arms of his nephew circling one of his legs, feeling him bounce excited while trying to stand.

Wow, he was too elusive to be in the middle stage of walking, but fortunately he was just as obedient. Scrooge couldn't help a smile at it.

However, while searching for something suitable for an infant, he wondered why he had not brought the chopped fruit. As he mentioned, they had eaten something before they left for the gala, and had not considered carrying the huge duffel bag because they would not be there for a long time and would not need it.

He had clearly forgotten that he was dealing with the stomach of a four-year-old duckling.

"Do ye want a cookie, Donnie?" Looking at the boy, he took a considerable amount of the snack.

Donald nodded almost immediately.

"So soon you go to the buffet, Scrooge?" At that moment, a female voice interrupted the duck in his movements, and the youngest one clung more to the leg of his caregiver, hiding in him and at the same time wanting to protect the older.

After all, with all the riches and amazement that defined his unca', he would not be surprised if there were no good people who would try to take it away from him as happened in the stories Mama told him.

His very short stature allowing him not to see the funny smile that the Scottish's face adopted.

"Do ye appear here soon, Goldie?" Hidden in the old duck's back, Donald was baffled by the unnoticed confidence in his voice; that did not allow him to lower his guard or release his leg, though. "What did ye find during me absence?

Standing on tiptoe, he tried to see the face of the person who dared to approach his uncle, being intercepted by the table that looked immense in his eyes.

Goldie's name sounded terribly familiar to him, but he couldn't identify from where. Nor could he dare to speak to his uncle and risk interrupting his conversation. It would be a lack of education, and Donald Fauntleroy Duck was anything but a ill-mannered boy.

"Don't get excited, Scroogey," however, the ease in the other voice took him off guard when they referred to his uncle in that way. And if it weren't for the timbre of voice and that unknown touch that put Uncle Scrooge's feathers on end, he would have thought it was Mommy who they were dealing with. "I haven't been much longer than you, really. And answering your question, I would say no, these rich men didn't bring anything interesting tonight; fortunately, I just found something really valuable."

For some strange reason, the boy felt his caregiver's body shudder, his hiding place and attachment denying him the sighting of the plumage of his cheeks red-tinted.

"Answering yer question equally, dear Goldie, Ah woold dare tae say tha' Ah came t' see ye." Incredulous, Donald looked at the elder. A confident expression seemed to invade his features, watching as he slowly seemed to soften discreetly. "Sadly, me young chaperon seemed to get ahead."

Subsequently, he felt Uncle Scrooge's hand ruffling his hair feathers, taking the cookies stretched a little hesitantly. He heard the woman sigh in surprise before he could bite the first one.

"Young chaperone?" Listening to the small tapping of heels against the floor on the soft, slow music, Donald got even more attached to his uncle's leg, feeling his own trembling slightly, not sure if it was because of someone they faced or his little dominance in walking.

But whoever it is, he would not fear defending his beloved favorite adventurous uncle. The adventure was in him since he was born under the McDuck legacy, and it would not take long to prove it to protect him.

Donald was not afraid of anyone, not even—

An elegant duck dressed in a beautiful white dress. Her blond hair, beautifully neat in a way that looked strange to him, completely bathed in a varied but beautiful selection of precious gemstones that did not compete with his mother's, shone in the great hall in such a way that he questioned how he did not distinguish her when he was in his uncle's arms—maybe, he supposed, it was because he was more focused on talking to him.

He thought he saw her green eyes wide when he felt her gaze on him.

"...Oh," she seemed to have noticed something, something he couldn't identify while holding on to Scrooge. "Who is this cute young man?"

But perceiving the discreet amount of gold that ran through her jewelry, a skill that still required improvement, added to the beauty that came off in her simple presence, Donald recalled some of the stories that Unca' tells him before he slept.

Among all the gold hunts, amazing adventures and impressive discoveries, the blurry story of, Klike?, Klondike?, yes, K’ndikay, became present.

And in it, the image of a blondie duck that accompanied and betrayed his uncle over and over again slowly became clear.

But it couldn't be her, could it?

"This laddie? Oh, he's me lovely nephew, Donald." Soon, he saw himself again in his uncle's arms, and settled down to keep listening to his heartbeat, stopping to eat his cookie when he perceived it faster than usual. "And dinnae be fooled. He may seem like the most adorable duckling in the world, but this little imp is a whole bit."

Involuntarily, Scrooge thought about the occasion in which Della at her two years had plotted to make a joke by dressing, acting and even speaking exactly like her brother, and how it took all afternoon in which he took care of them to distinguish one from the other.

Or how they helped each other to throw or hide the vegetables they should ate, or sneaked into the kitchen, managing to avoid even Duckworth to reach the vase of cookies in the highest cabinet, being discovered and reprimanded when the elders gave with the wasted food or they accidentally broke the vase.

And how to forget the occasion when he had to improvise an adventure in the manor when both, at age three, had hidden to avoid a visit to the doctor that involved the application of an injection? Their hiding place was discovered thanks to a sneeze and the consequent Della's reprimand. They had cried a lot, and had not spoken to him for weeks until the strong love they had made them beg for apology.

Unfortunately, Della was prey to a chicken pox, which is why he was commissioned only with the youngest twin while the female duckling was recovering; that perhaps prevented them from making a mischief during the evening, but that made them look incomplete.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Donald," the boy said nothing at the older woman's forced tone, shaking his opposite hand hesitantly at his uncle's watchful eye, "I'm Goldie O'Glit."

A few seconds passed.

Goldie... O’Glit? The name rang in a loop, and Donald had to see for not suffering a outburst that made him look like a bad duck.

Of course it sounded familiar!

"Is she the friend, Unca'?" He inquired with a glow of curiosity in his gaze, looking at his uncle as he pointed to the woman in front of them.

Not knowing the reason why his dear unca's face turned red and nervous, as well as the small laugh that evoked the elegant duck.

Scrooge smiled broadly, laughing nervously.

"Children, huh? They have a great imagination," the old Scotsman said awkwardly, unsatisfied with the amused smile on Goldie's face.

"Yes, it seems so." Goldie rolled her eyes while still smiling slyly, sensing the peculiar way in which he stopped his hand on the duck's head, stirring the hair feathers with such familiarity and warmth that she didn't think she would see in Scrooge McDuck.

Inquisitive, Donald looked at his uncle again, tilting his head in confusion. He admitted to having an overactive imagination, especially when he was with his sister, but he wasn't sure that the facts of his Unca's stories were a product of his mind.

Unless he wanted to express in the kindergarten how much he admired his uncle, and how fascinating it was to have him in his life despite spending most of his time working in his studio, going out to work more in the money bin or counting his vast amount of money.

"But Unca' Scrooge..." but on that occasion it wasn't like that, and he was sure.

Being interrupted again by Scrooge.

"Wha's up, Donald? Do ye wan' tae go tae th' bathroom?" What? The duckling was wondering, looking at the old Scottish man, finally perceiving his nervous expression and colored feathers. Donald sighed in surprise. "If ye'll excuse us, Goldie, Ah have work tae do."

Excusing nervously, Scrooge withdrew from the buffet feeling how slowly the knot in the pit of his stomach was falling apart, sighing with relief.

For the next gala he would remember to bring his nephew's food, or minimally small zyploc bags in which he would carry the food he could, he thought as he headed to the bathrooms at the watchful eye of his ex-partner, determined to keep his facade…

"Is she yer girlfriend, Unca' Scrooge?"

Stopping abruptly in his footsteps to observe the curiosity in the glow of his wee Donald's eyes as he slowly chewed a cookie.

"W-What?" He repeated. And no, he hadn't stuttered or got nervous, thank you very much.

Much less, his behavior had attracted more attention of the child.

"Do ye wants that lady the same way Daddy wants Mommy?" He smiled, and Scrooge could not identify whether that innocence was false or not. "Because Daddy sometimes gets like this when Mommy is near."

The old duck cleared his throat, suddenly feeling his throat dry and his sweaty brow.

"No, no, Donnie. Yer tough uncle dinnae wan' that lady the same way..."

"But she was pretty!" And ye seemed to get along very well." Scrooge rolled his eyes, recognizing that Donald was still too young, innocent and gullible to understand the complex relationship between Goldie and him, "can Ah call her Auntie Goldie?"

Despite the shock, his reflexes were equally fast, and he knew how to react when his grip on the duckling loosened.

Well, now he was playing with him; Scrooge already recognized the false innocent smile on his nephew's face when he was plotting something.

"Wha'? Nae!" Having to fight against his willpower so as not to redden more than he already was to satisfy the wee one, he stared at his satisfied expression behind that plump pretty face. "Donald Duck, there is nothing between Goldie and me; so ye can forget the idea of calling her yer aunt."

Having to wait a few seconds to appreciate how his nephew's teasing expression slowly became a pout that made him look more adorable than he already was.

"Oh, phooey." In an attempt to snap his finger, his uncle didn't see when he got sad.

"Donald, language," of course, he was sure that the expression was created in a moment of boredom, but something told him he didn't want to know the meaning of it.

Until the duck's gaze shone again, and he smiled for a moment.

Scrooge did not see how the duck's face changed consecutively from a pout, to that cheerful expression and how, finally, he made the brightest look he could in a vain attempt to cry.

"But..." His voice was more unintelligible than usual, and he continued when he felt his uncle's gaze on him, "in a moment Ah will have to grow up, Unca' Scrooge."

Thought that, quite honestly, the Scotsman didn't even want to think. If an adventure offered him the possibility of finding an artifact that would allow him to keep his baby like a baby forever, he would accept it without hesitation.

"Ah wooldn't want to leave ye alone when that happened, but what if Ah did? Ah would like to leave ye with someone who loved you as much as I... maybe not so much" sobbing, he snatched the buttoned shirt of Scrooge with his cookie-free hand, and hid his face in small sobs.

And the old duck didn't know what to do or say when his nephew looked at him with puppy eyes and threads of tears running down his cheeks.

He sigh heavily, leaning his back against a nearby wall, leaning his cane to the side, to affectionately disarray Donald's hair feathers.

"Donald, m'boy, Ah willnae be alone," as he expected, his nephew looked at him with a trembling beak, waiting for an explanation, and smiled sweetly, wiping his cheeks with his thumb and forefinger. What did it matter if someone saw him acting so fatherly? Anyone would expect to see that with an lovable bairn in his arms. "Ah will have all me money..."

But that's something material, unca', and mommy says family is the most important thing."

Of course, Hortense would say that, Scrooge thought seeing the boy's confused expression, smiling before approaching and planting loud kisses on his face.

"But ye will always be me family, Donnie. Della, Hortense, Quackmore, yer Auntie Matilda, even yer cousin Gladstone" he tried not to laugh at the pout created by the boy at the mention of the goose following the strange resentment that enveloped the luck of both bairns. "Regardless of distance, time, or circumstances, we will continue to be family."

"Ah know, Ah know, but..."

"Besides, I know that this heart is so big not to leave this old duck on his own." Of course, he considered himself more than capable of taking care of himself from minor threats like Glomgold or the Beagle Boys, but feeling Donald's steady heartbeat as he stabilizes, he acknowledged being right.

Now he understood why the wee child loved to feel his.

Meanwhile, the young duck could not help smiling in shock. He had waited for the right moment to ask his uncle about the alleged marriage to Goldie, waiting for his replies about the so-called crocodile tears that Della and he had used so many times.

But he had obtained something better.

Unca' Scrooge does not usually speak with him so sincerely and familiarly, considering unnecessary feelings for business, which made him cherish the occasions when he looked like someone else.

Then there won't be Auntie Goldie?" Trying to sound disappointed, he stopped his hand over Scrooge's. The smile at his bill was what gave him away, though.

"There willnae be Auntie Goldie," he carried his nephew on his hip and took his cane again. "And if ye excuse me, laddie, this unca' needs tae go tae the bathroom and refuses tae leave his nephew alone."

He heard the duckling snort and eat the last cookie.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Comparing Season 6 and Season 10 - which one do you think makes more sense as a whole, which one better pulls of seeming like what happened/was revealed at the end of the season is what was supposed to happen/was planned all along?

I may be biased, but for me, season 6 by miles. And almost all of that is Edlund desperately cramming everything that had happened so far into something that either made sense or handwaved why it didn’t make sense in an effectively emotional enough episode that by the end of TMWWBK you sort of feel like you’ve actually got your answers and Cas has been completely honest and open with YOU at least, making it that much easier to handle what was going on. 

I think for me season 10 was poorly handled in ways that weren’t particularly well addressed and the only offered explanation ever was “oh it was Amara after all” which in the context of season 11 gives us some more characterisation to begin to pull things together, though without addressing everything. Still if we’re dealing with things as a whole, season 10 doesn’t have an episode that scrapes everything together in the post-Edlund era and what we get only within the confines of season 10 is extremely unsatisfactory, even if later canon eases it a little bit, along with just… not being actively in SPN season 10 as it airs :P 

Going off my memories of being in the fandom at the time, we had a lot of issues with things like 

Dean’s incomplete demon reversal (so far as in 10x02, written by Dabb who invented the cure repeating the correct steps, then in 10x03 Buckleming not following through with them)

“the river ends at the source” “never mind I was screwing with you”

Did Cain still have the Mark after 9x11? lasting drama until 10x14, and still debated afterwards especially by people who had thought he didn’t have the Mark and had passed it entirely to Dean now being very confused  

What the fuck was this about Lucifer having the Mark and how did that last minute addition affect everything? 

the Colette parallel being wildly mis-applied by fandom but also issues with the show’s fear to explore it leading to “we are all the colette” episodes with lasting drama until 10x22, where Charlie, Sam and Cas all variously and persistently seemed to be suggested to be capable of being a team effort to pull Dean out of the darkness. 10x22 also wasn’t enough to stop Dean, and the final confrontation was with Sam, I think a general consensus was - especially again with season 11′s help - that the memory of Mary drew him back/unleashed Amara metaphorically who unleashed Mary literally - it wasn’t a great note to end on without season 11 context (as a whole, so, like, a whole YEAR later) that Sam had “won” the battle to bring Dean back from himself where Cas had failed, and the subtext and show and fandom most of all had made SUCH a huge deal out of Colette, after 9x11 over-told her story instead of retelling Cain & Abel, that it was set up with the expectation that saving Dean was a romantic quest, not a brotherly one. 10x14 sort of helped set things to rights with the list, but the fighting about what it all meant at the time was AWFUL, and though I think I was right and the show bore that out and these days I type it all with confidence, I’m pretty sure there’s a ton of buried wank about it that could be dragged out if we want >.>

the fact there wasn’t really an overarcing Mark of Cain plot except “Dean is suffering” with the only 3 actual plot points they could do with it being demon!Dean, kill Cain, and remove Mark. Because of that, everything else is literally set-dressing to fill the time and add drama in between, but these were played with poorly and there wasn’t any subterfuge we weren’t in on (i.e. sam stealing the book) vs Cas betraying both the Winchesters and US. The only retcon offered in the end was Death’s exposition about the Darkness.

people literally forgetting which order episodes came out in and being very confused about why Amara wasn’t released when Dean was 14 in 10x12 even though he didn’t kill Cain for 2 more episodes (like, within weeks of 10x14 airing, I swear)

the understandable disappearance of Cole but bizarre application of that hunter called Rudy who popped up in his place and featured in 10x23 along with Cas for Dean’s guilt trip. Even if Cole and TAW sucked ass, it’s much easier to understand the emotional impact of what happened to Rudy if you assume he has the exact same backstory as Cole and the same nonsense happened to Dean twice in the same year :P 

Pre-season hype about Rowena made a huge deal out of the Grand Coven, and for a brief moment it seemed like there might be a witch plotline, including new lore dumps about different types of witches in 10x07, characters like Olivette the Hamster, etc, but they squandered her first season and 10x19 was as close as we got to any pay off to her actual storyline

Then Oskaar happened and that was like ??? Okay just introduce him in the second to last episode and throw us into that emotional situation 

the entire cure coming out of nowhere as a random last minute macguffin instead of having been anything they put together over the season - even though the book of the damned thing showed up in 10x11 it changed substantially from the clue Charlie left with (a less than 100 year old book with a library reference number found on an antique rare book website, based on a real book, which we all picked over and were left wondering if the plot was to be about some sort of occultism thing as a result) to a much different lore. Then there were a few episodes dealing with it and the codex, the actual spell had no real struggle, and Crowley delivered all the pieces while Cas stood around scowling and Rowena stood around in chains eye-rolling. Compare season 13′s pacing with Sam and Dean cobbling together what they needed from halfway through the season, and being on the mission to get to the AU from episode 9, with relatively little of the endless sitting around googling and being frustrated of past seasons but ESPECIALLY season 10 where Sam was futilely trawling the results of googling “mark of cain” from mid-late season 9 through to like, 10x18 when an actual brief plot appeared around it directly. 

I think all of it points to a problem of working forwards from where they were instead of backwards to tidy up what was left. In season 6 Edlund took as many loose plot threads, from how Sam lost his soul, what was up with Crowley and Cas, the angel war, explanations for Sam and Samuel working together, why eve happened, everything, and put it all together to explain the elements of the season so far in a new light. Despite how disastrous that season was, PRETENDING you knew like you meant to do it all along glosses over inconsistencies in Samuel’s story or Cas and Crowley’s 6x10 interactions, and makes them relatively inconsequential when most of the details add up. 

The same thing works with the Lucifer as Sam’s vessel storyline, in the sense that while Azazel’s plan is fucking ridiculous in its over-complex bizarre attempt to find a worthy true vessel that Heaven had fated, comparing season 1-2 to season 5 head on is bad, each season explains itself from the last in enough of a way and with enough knowledge of what already happened that really despite vast inconsistencies in the lore, by 5x22 we are pretty much all on board to accept the way it all played out because they use what was previously written to build up Sam’s arc, and little details thrown in towards the end like Brady and then Lucifer revealing ALL of Sam’s closer rando peeps had been demons, tidy up more and more loose ends and there’s left with plausible deniability about a lot of the issues.

In season 10 they kept on introducing elements instead of working with what they had already established, and also discarded what seemed like major plot hooks for Rowena and Cole, one annoyingly, one completely metatextually understandably and fuck TAW, I’m glad the show never brought Cole back as soon as rumours of him groping fans appeared, and it makes me genuinely trust that the SPN set is a safe place. But yeah. 

Things they set up and could have worked with, were the Cas’s grace arc, which was resolved to a small personal satisfaction to Cas without any major plot impact except we could stop worrying about when Cas would get sick and die from bad grace, or steal more. 

The demon!Dean issue was bad writing from Buckleming re: was he still a demon or not, but given Dean was supposed to be struggling with succumbing to darkness the season actually kept him almost completely level without any significant relapses, even after killing Cain. The sense of needing a functional Dean Winchester to keep hunting monsters and prop up the show as both the carrier of the mytharc, the emotional core, and the go-between between Sam and Cas even when the show was trying to figure out if Sam and Cas could function without Dean, it was all still so much about Dean that in 10x21 when they’re doing the cringeworthy “for Dean” thing and Rowena rolls her eyes like “I barely know the man”, I was actually applauding Buckleming snark thinking they maybe briefly had a handle on how ridiculous Dean’s position in the narrative was. (Listen, this was the last 10 minutes of my innocence about how awful Buckleming could be, leave past!me alone. She’s sweet and precious and not bitter :P) In any case, a more effective season would have utilised him more to slip and slide between light and dark and explore it in much deeper detail, but balancing that with a procedural formula doesn’t work as well and they were lacking enough philosophers on staff. I think the Dabb era writing team could handle it, because Yockey, Perez, and Glynn especially, who seems to have a psychology background based on her writing, all have a sharp attention to the exact things in emotional arcs that would have made it work better, even just as it was. Since this was a weaker writing team where Robbie, Bobo and Dabb episodes were little islands of excellence and the motw were fun but more shallow even with strong foreshadowing themes, it just didn’t pay off. 

I think the biggest waste of time was “the river ends at the source” which was either Buckleming trying to introduce a concept and hoping someone else dealt with it, or an agreed plot hook which never materialised, or Metatron literally spoke the truth, that the line had only ever been written to mess with us. However 10x23 could have actually included more of a “river ends at the source” sort of slant and had Death confirm it in so many words because Amara really did sort of seem to be the answer to the question. In 10x10 it seemed like they knew where the season was going, but by 10x17 it was obvious they DIDN’T, and it was during 10x18 that the plot actually got hashed out and Robbie was handed heavy revisions to make to change the Stynes to end of season villains and the Book of the Damned was going to be used how it was. I think this is really weak plotting, as someone who always puts in fun lines and then attempts like crazy to pay off on them. My first novel has the line “you can’t talk to me yet” and I play through that the whole book until they CAN talk and make it a major motif, goal and in the end try to explain it as best I can about how it’s all plot relevant and why using that for tension to put off the explanations and such was a valid thing to throw at my main character, and then the springboard to more adventure when she was ready for it. I literally do not understand putting a portentous line into your story, and not becoming desperately eager to answer it or twist something into revealing how it all fits at the end, if not basing your entire story off of it. Sam and Dean seemed wildly uncurious about how to apply that or what it means. 

In season 6 one of the more frustrating things is the “it’s all about the souls” line because Dean fails to investigate until someone or other rolls their eyes and makes it all clear to him. But we get a few more reminders in Cas’s presence, until we find out his plan, and Crowley repeats that line in 6x20 when making his sales pitch to Cas, if I’m remembering rightly (I hope so :/) and so despite Dean’s infuriating lack of investigation (not that he had a great deal of leads, but still - you could build a plot around it by GIVING him a lead, he’s the fictional character and you’re the writer :P) at the very least they repeat the motif in at least 6x17 and 6x20 to my memory, before the souls thing becomes a lot more obvious about Cas taking the purgatory souls and we’re allowed to actually discuss what he’s up to instead of the vague hints Atropos and Rachel give that they know his plans. 6x07 also hints early on that Purgatory is full of monster souls if you add it all up - the writers knew they were doing SOMETHING with this even if it took to the end of the season for it to all come together. (And that’s something that’s clearly and overarcing plot that Gamble oversaw because she wrote 6x11 and the line then appears in multiple episodes around the place, so that’s not just something Edlund tidied up but an actual effort to write the season well.)

Throwing aside the “river ends at the source” line is wildly frustrating because it wouldn’t have been too hard to apply it thematically and even keep Metatron being a douche while giving the viewer a pay off anyway for our own satisfaction, by showing it had been a theme all along anyway. You CAN squint at season 10 and analyse it through that lens but it’s exhausting when the show doesn’t give us the themes on a platter. It also shows that the plotting is careless and they’re experimenting, and rather than working with what they have, this is in a path of episodes where they’re discarding some plotlines, and we’re beginning to have end of season plotlines hastily pasted onto the end of the season, but they make very little of any of the work already done to build up the season as we’d seen it so far.

Add onto that Charlie being murdered for manpain to motivate some things into action and all the random elements being used, and the sense that Crowley, Cas and Rowena all abruptly ran out of a plotline that had been intended to utilise them and put on a side character duty away from Sam and Dean, the season is extremely messily and carelessly written, and without any real attention to detail to its own themes and characters and plotlines. Even if they’d gone into the season not particularly expecting where to go, they brought a lot to the table early on but then quickly wiped a lot of it off, and brought a lot more stuff to the table instead, which makes season 10 a really wonky, unfinished feeling product as a thing on its own, and the overall story is scrappy and carelessly plotted.

And that is speaking just about the easy plot stuff without getting into the absolute mess of speculation from the Destiel side of fandom wondering wtf was going on with the seeming build up to crypt scenes, colette, the grace cure, etc, that made up the bulk of the speculation but makes actually analysing expectations vs presented product completely impossible to evaluate on that side of things because as always Destiel speculation really overshoots what is expected and was really running wild at that point. I mean, not being judgemental because that was the year I was right in the thick of it. 3 years clear of it now, some of it seems really silly, but those 3 things all seemed clearly built up to our eyes, and we got the reverse crypt scene we’d been expecting since before the season started, and we got the Colette reference which slotted Cas firmly into place as a reminder of how Cain’s peeps lined up against Dean’s, as well as Cas asking Dean to stop, which satisfied the terms and conditions of Dean resisting walking in Cain’s footsteps with the overall set up of the scene. With the way Cas got his grace back and then some other rando cure popped up where Rowena of all people made the sacrifice, I really can’t help feeling like the conspiracy theorist who knows they were right but with the way it all shook out, only people who knew the conspiracy would understand how it didn’t happen and it’s very hard for me to look at that and say that some non-Cas-related cure was coming all along, given the conspicuous dropping of one plotline sort of day of picking up the next >.> But I’ll cede that from my position I might be a bit compromised on that one. 

Anyways. To me season 10 is a disaster that only season 11 really justifies, while season 6 has some truly low points but in the end the actual writing skill hauls it through so that it creates the illusion that there was consistency, if you ignore everything outside of the text suggesting it may have been as poorly planned as season 10. Planning isn’t everything - it’s what you do when confronted with the unplanned wire tangle in front of you that really marks how well they were written, and just shoving it under the table and putting a new wire tangle down vs actually unpicking it and making them as neat as possible? Gamble slam dunks Carver :P

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Fan Novel (Book 3, Chapter 3)

Hearing what I've just said, the others are immediately beside me, staring at the woman silhouetted in moonlight on the prow. She turns towards us. It's Quinn all right, but for a moment, I feel dread flooding through me. Will she know us? Is it her, or just something wearing her face? Her eyes go wide as they find my face in the encroaching darkness.

“Alodia!” she cries.

“Oh my god!” Diego gasps. “It's you!”

“It can't be...” Michelle whispers. “Can it?”

“You were hit with a rocket!” Raj yelps. “We saw you explode!”

“Hang on,” Jake says. “Are we talking to Ariel? ...Or Ursula?”

Quinn puffs out her cheeks, her rosebud mouth twisting into her familiar, adorable pout. “It's me. Don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt anyone.”

I laugh, rushing forward to pull her into my arms. She holds me back, resting her chin on my shoulder.

“It's you, Quinn! It's really you!”

“Of course it is, silly!” She pulls back to look at the rest of the group. “I'm so glad I've finally found all of you.”

“Have you seen any sign of the others?” I ask anxiously.

“They would surely be here if she had,” Estela says.

“You don't know that,” Diego protests. “She might have information.”

Quinn shakes her head sadly. “Estela's right, I'm afraid. I don't know where anyone else is at this point.”

Everyone, even Estela, looks disappointed at that. I can't say I don't feel the same, but I force myself to smile reassuringly.

“We're gonna find them soon. For now, we're just happy to have you back.” Almost before the last word is out of my mouth, Quinn sucks in a sharp breath, doubling over and grasping my shoulder for support. I brace her, my pulse accelerating. “Woah! Quinn, are you okay?”

“Malatesta!” Estela whirls on the pirate, her eyes narrow. “If you've hurt her--”

“It's not him,” Quinn says quickly. “It's...” she trails off, looking over her shoulder as if she's afraid she's being followed.

“Is it...the thing? The thing that gave you your powers?” Her eyes meet mine, and there's something in them that I've seen before. A mixture of relief and loss. It was the same look she gave me when she learned that the illness that had plagued her since childhood was gone.

“You make it sound like I'm a superhero. The things I could do before...I doubt I'd be able to do them again. I lost my connection to the presence after the rocket hit.”

“How do you know it's gone?”

“I tried reaching out to it again. I wanted to fly, to see if I could find everyone. But...I couldn't.”

“So...whatever it was got...used up? No more superpowers?”

“A lot less superpowers,” she clarifies. “I constantly feel...hollow. Incomplete. Like the most important part of me got taken away.”

“What do you mean?” Michelle asks.

Quinn draws away from me, turning back toward the sea. “I'm so sorry, everyone. I remember everything...What I did...what I felt when it was controlling me. The Island's Heart is broken into two halves. The presence wanted to find them desperately.”

“That would explain...a few things,” I say thoughtfully. “Then we need to get back the piece Rourke took and try to find the rest of it.”

“...We do?” Diego asks, startled.

“The Heart contains so much energy. More than you could imagine. If Rourke gets both halves, he'll be able to alter time however he wants.” Quinn clutches her chest, staggering a little. “It's like I'm chained to it. And anytime it pulls me, it hurts.”

“We gotta fix this,” Jake murmurs.

“It's okay,” Diego says, trying and failing to cover his anxiety. “Everything's gonna be alright. I'm sure there's something we can do...right?”

“There is,” Estela says firmly. “We can start by getting the other half before Rourke does.”

Varyyn nods. “Agreed. The Hydra has no right to command the Heart.”

“How would we find it, though?” I ask. “It wasn't exactly a cakewalk getting to the first half at Elyys'tel.”

“...I think I can bring us to its location,” Quinn says.

Behind us, Malatesta growls, crossing his arms over his chest. He is clearly not pleased by the direction of this conversation. Yvonne rolls her eyes.

“Zut alors, Mal, are you truly so thick-headed?”

“I don't care what kind of bet we made! This is still my ship! You lot won't be using it for your nonsense!”

“Mon dieu, I really cannot believe you! In any case, this is not your ship anymore! We are going to help Alodia's friend whether you like it or not.”

“So it's a 'we' now, Yvie? Since when did you reduce yourself to traipsing about with children?”

“Watch it, Davy Groans!” Jake snaps. “You're a little outnumbered here.”

Malatesta puffs his chest, swaggering up to Jake, who draws himself up to his full height and locks eyes with the pirate. Yvonne stomps her boot against the deck.

“Arrete!” she snaps. Suddenly, her expression changes. She strolls up to Malatesta, her hips swaying. Jake raises an eyebrow as she gets between him and the pirate, laying a hand on the blond man's chest and easing him back.

“I think I like where this is going.”

“I think you'll want to cooperate with mes amis enfants, Mal.”

Malatesta turns his impressive height on Yvonne, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “Oh? And what makes you say that?”

Yvonne grasps his lapels, pulling him down to match her short stature and brings her lips to his ear. I can't make out what she says, but Malatesta's eyes go wide.

“You wouldn't dare! You detest me!”

“Perhaps, just perhaps, I could be persuaded...”

As the two of them begin exchanging furtive remarks in whispered French, the rest of us watch in dumbfounded silence.

“You could cut the tension out here with a curved blade,” Diego remarks. Finally, Malatesta raises his sour gaze, pinning it on the rest of us.

“All right, we'll have it your way, but you'll follow my instructions all the way there! This is a pirate ship, not a play pen!”

Jake grins, saluting him. “Aye aye, Cap'n Crunch.”

As conversation resumes buzzing around me, I inch over to Yvonne. “So, what did you say to him to make him change his mind,” I ask under my breath.

Yvonne merely winks at me. “I never kiss and tell.”

Malatesta grumbles under his breath, pulling a flask from his coat and gulping its contents. “God help me.” He glares daggers at us all. “All right, beds are down below. Witch, stay put for navigation. Out with all of you!”

Quinn heads over to the helm and begins turning it with all her diminutive might. She smiles down at us. “Welcome aboard, everyone!”

On the ship's lower level, we find a series of crude bunks and hammocks with patchy blankets and shapeless pillows sewn from canvas and stuffed with feathers. Jake climbs into a corner bunk and holds out his arms to me.

“Room for another, Princess.” I smile and remove my armor before curling up with him. I'm asleep the moment my head hits the rough, shapeless pillow.

The next thing I am aware of is the sound of splashing, followed by Raj's yelping voice.

“No! Don't eat me! I know my name is on the menu, but that doesn't mean...Oh...I was asleep.”

I lift my head, blinking sleep from my eyes. Jake seems to have gotten up already, but Malatesta is there, glaring down at me, Raj, and Michelle, a wooden bucket full of seawater in his hand.

“Up with you!” he barks. “There's work to be done! This is a pirate ship, not a lodge!”

“I'm up! I'm up!” Raj answers with just a hint of a whine in his voice. “Geez, dude.”

Michelle rolls out of her hammock, inching away from Malatesta, eying the bucket in his hand. “Rude,” she mutters.

Malatesta turns to me, holding up the bucket threateningly. “And you, baby lioness? Will you also need encouragement?”

I scowl defiantly at him. “Don't you dare. It's hard enough to keep my hair nice these days without you dumping seawater on it!”

“An attack on Alodia's hair is an attack on my hair!” Michelle adds. “And you don't attack my hair.”

“Out!” Malatesta bellows. “All of ye!”

“I'll be right up,” I tell Raj and Michelle. “Just need to re-armor. Never know when we're gonna run into trouble in this place.”

I carefully secure the amber pieces into place and wander up onto the deck, where the others are milling about. Diego spots me and grins.

“Ahoy, Allie. Looks like it's a pirate's life for us!”

I grin back. “Your lifelong dream.”

“Scrawny one!” Malatesta snaps. “I told ye to clean those scuppers!”

Diego sighs. “Yeah, okay, but you never explained what scuppers even are...”

“Bonjour, Alodia!” Yvonne's voice comes from above me, and I look up to see her in the crow's nest, her legs dangling over the edge, a spyglass in her hand. I wave back to her before wandering over to the prow, where Jake and Raj are organizing bundles of rope. Jake is demonstrating an elaborate, many-looped knot, his calloused fingers moving deftly and surely.

“It's not that hard, Pineapple Express. You're overthinking it.”

“How are you so good at this?” Raj grumbles.

“Naval Academy taught a little, but I kept learning as a hobby. You'd be surprised at some of the situations where it comes in handy.”

“Is that so?” I can't resist asking. He starts a little at the sound of my voice, and I see a blush creep over his cheeks.

“Oh, Princess! Didn't see you there.”

I grin wickedly. “Please, I'd love to hear about all the practical applications of tying rope.”

Jake coughs into his fist. He looks like he's about to reply, but a cry from Yvonne above us interrupts him.

“Mes amis! You'll want to see this!” She descends the ladder down to the deck in a few graceful bounds and rushes over to hand me the spyglass, pointing towards the shore. I raise the glass to my eye and look in the direction she's indicating. My heart drops, splashing into my stomach. Sean and Craig are on the shore, bound, gagged, on their knees and surrounded by Arachnid troops.

“Sean and Craig.” My voice quivers. “And Arachnid. They've been captured.”

“You see them?” Michelle asks anxiously.

“Let me see.” I pass the spyglass to Estela. She peers through it and frowns. “...Did you see who else is there?”

She hands the spyglass back to me, and I look again, letting the lens drift away from my captive friends. As two more familiar faces come into view, I wince.

“It's Aleister. ...And Mike.” I yelp when I see them board a military speedboat. The other soldiers pull Sean and Craig to their feet and drag them toward the vessel. “They're getting on a boat!”

“Not on my damned watch!” Jake growls. “Let's board them. Now.”

I lower the spyglass and turn to Jake, knowing my worry is reflected on my face. “Jake, Mike almost killed us before. ...Are you sure we can stop him?”

“I can't just not try, Alodia. I can't.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Just focus on getting Sean and Craig to safety. I'll handle Mike.”

Malatesta clears his throat impatiently. “Quit yer gawking! There's much to be done!”

“Gawking?!” Quinn whirls on him, her sapphire eyes snapping with rare fury. “Our friends have been kidnapped! Are you really gonna try to stop us from rescuing them?!”

“Stop you? Miss Witch, I'm going to help you!” He smirks. “This is a pirate ship, not a peace vessel. You wanna raid a ship? Ye're speaking my language.”

Yvonne chuckles. “Nice to see you in bonne humeur for once, you sludge-eating flatfish.”

“Don't play nice, you conniving harpy! You'll not take more booty than me! Miss Witch, take us starboard!”

“Aye, aye!” Quinn agrees, dashing for the helm. “Changing course!”

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to find Yvonne beside me. “If you are joining us on a raid, ma chere, you should fly our colors.”

“...What?”

“That beautiful armor is more befitting of a knight than a pirate. Besides, it is too heavy for a battle upon La Mer. Come.”

She grasps my hand and pulls me across the deck to where a plain chest sits between a couple barrels. She swiftly kicks the chest open, revealing garments of soft muslin and tailored leather.

“Woah...”

“Remove those amber pieces, quickly,” she orders me. “I'll find you something suitable.” She rummages around, yanking out several pieces and draping them over her arm, while I get out of my armor as fast as I can manage. Within a few minutes, I've swapped armor and the leggings and tank top I had been wearing underneath for a linen shirt, leather bodice, breeches, and boots. I look myself over and grin at my friends. I have to admit, I like the look.

“Arrr, me hearties!” I crow.

Diego laughs. “Yaaas! Jack Sparrow's got nothing on you!”

“Color me impressed,” Michelle agrees. “You somehow manage to make ren faire clothes look good.”

Jake looks up and does a double take, his jaw dropping. I waggle my eyebrows.

“Like what you see, sailor?”

“Damn, Princess. You can board my ship any time.”

I take just enough time to wink at him before hurrying to the side of the ship and raising the spyglass to my eye again. Aleister's narrow gaze is pinned on The Dorado. He turns to shout orders to the soldiers. The troops take up formation on the speedboat and raise their guns. The engine revs to life.

“They're trying to run for it! We'll never catch them in this ship!”

“Aye? Then I'd say it's time to even the odds. Miss Witch, bring us in! Yvonne, catch the sail to the wind!” Malatesta catches my eye and points to a pile of giant chains and a spear tip the size of my head. “Little Lioness, hook the spearhead to the boom chains, and then load it into the cannon!”

It takes me a couple of seconds, but I manage to hook the spearhead onto the heavy chain, and load it into the cannon. Under Malatesta's approving eye, I fasten the first chainlink onto the barrel.

Diego whistles. “You're a natural at this pirate thing, Allie.”

Malatesta prepares the flint rocks, looking down at me. “That was just the first test, Little Lioness. Once I light it, aim at the boat's broadside.” He whips around to the others. “Cover your ears and hold onto something!”

He strikes the flint, bringing the fuse to life. I throw my weight into holding the cannon's aim steady at the military ship's flank.

“There?”

“Aye, we'll make a salty dog out of ye yet! Now hold on!”

A deafening explosion rips through the air. The recoil sends me sprawling across the deck as the spearhead launches from the cannon with chains trailing behind like a kite tail. I scramble to my feet, watching anxiously. Just when it looks like the speedboat is getting too far ahead, the sharp blade pierces its metal-clad hull. The military ship lurches wildly as it's snared by the boom chain. Through the ringing in my ears, I start to make out shouting from the other ship. On the deck of The Dorado, everyone springs into action, rushing to prepare for boarding.

Malatesta claps me on the back. “Well done, lass! Now, I got three things to tell ye about raiding. One, don't die.”

Arachnid soldiers are taking aim at the boom chain, but their bullets ricochet harmlessly off the heavy links. Raj has found an armory cabinet and is pulling out swords and daggers, sliding them to the others.

“So what if they got guns! We're gonna slice, dice, and julienne them! ...And that just made me hungry...”

“Raj!” I call. “Over here!” He slides a cutlass over to me. I scoop it up and take a few practice swings before sliding it into the sheath at my belt.

“Secondly,” Malatesta continues, apparently unphased by the interruption, “the sea's as much a weapon as any blade. Use her to your advantage.”

The stretch of water between the two sea vessels is closing quickly. Jake pulls out a rope net covered in iron weights.

“We can subdue a bunch of them with this!”

“And three,” Malatesta concludes, raising his voice to address all of us, “TAKE NO PRISONERS!”

“Except, you know, our friends!” Diego clarifies hastily. “Who are prisoners. We want them.”

“Come, mes amis! A l'abordage!” Yvonne and Malatesta grab free-hanging ropes. Jake, Estela, Raj, and I immediately leap up to do the same. Looking down at the vast expanse of water beneath me, feeling the wind whip at my hair, I feel my heart wedge in my throat for a moment. Steeling myself, I open my mouth to let out a battle cry.

“For Sean and Craig!” I scream, taking a wild leap. For a moment, I'm free-falling. Then, the rope pulls taut and I swing towards the Arachnid speedboat. When I can see something solid beneath me, I let go, dropping gracefully onto the rear deck. Sean and Craig have been lashed to the rails on the far side of the deck. They cry out around their gags when they see us, struggling against their bonds.

“Enemy sighted!” I hear the modulated voice of an Arachnid soldier, and the click of weapons being readied and aimed.

“Stop!” Aleister's voice is shrill with alarm. “Don't shoot! All of you stand down!”

“What?!” one soldier cries. “We are literally being attacked!”

Aleister glares at the soldier, his breath coming through gritted teeth. “I represent Everett Rourke here, and I order you to stand down!”

The masked soldiers hesitate a moment, looking between each other. Finally, they lower their weapons. Aleister turns to stare at us, shock and disbelief plain on his face.

“Y-you're alive...you're all alive...”

“No thanks to you,” Estela snaps.

“Father said you tried to escape. That you were all gunned down. That you'd all rather die than be his prisoners.”

“Get a grip, Malfoy!” Jake growls. “For how smart you act, you're good at playing dumb when it's convenient!”

“That's not--”

“Think about it! Your father has lied to you your entire life. Why would this be any different?!”

“Aleister,” I say softly. “Rourke tried to kill us the moment you left with Grace.”

My words seem to fall like a physical blow. Aleister recoils, trembling. “I...I didn't know,” he whispers. “I swear. I'm so sorry!”

“Like hell you are!” Estela snarls. “If you're so sorry, why are our friends tied up and held at gunpoint?!”

Aleister's eyes dart between us as if searching for an escape route. He runs his hands through his hair. “It...it's complicated...”

Mike strides up beside Aleister, his bionic eye glinting menacingly in the sunlight. “Sir. The hostages are our first priority.”

I feel Jake faltering beside me. “Aw, Mike,” he says plaintively. “You'd never go along with this! Is any of you left in there? Wake up!”

Mike is still as a statue. Only his arm moves, arching slowly upward to level a gun at Jake. Impulsively, I get between them. Malatesta draws a pistol, aiming it at Mike.

“This is an awful lot of talking for a raid. We fighting or not?”

“Alodia!” Aleister looks at me with desperation in his eyes. “You're the leader here. Where you go, the others will follow. You know that, right? ...Walk away. Please. Just walk away. I don't want to hurt you.”

Still planted firmly between Jake and Mike, I put my hand on the hilt of my cutlass. “I don't leave without Sean and Craig.”

The desperation in his eyes gives way to heartbreak. “...You're a damned fool, Alodia.” Then the heartbreak turns to cold resignation. “So be it. Guards! Capture them! Keep them alive!”

The troops immediately take up defensive positions around Aleister, Sean, and Craig.

“Yvie,” Malatesta murmurs. “Ye still got your perfume?”

“I never leave shore without it.” From the pouch at her waist, she pulls out a small ball with a pin in it. Malatesta takes it, bites the pin, and tosses it towards the deck. As it rolls at the soldiers' feet, a smoke screen starts to pour out of it, spreading rapidly.

“Stay together!” one soldier cries. Through the haze, two fists that crackle with electricity rapidly materialize.

“Ready to dance, kid?” a feminine voice growls behind the mask in front of me. The tossing waves throw The Dorado into the side of the Arachnid vessel. As the deck tilts beneath my feet and I stumble into one of the box-shaped objects mounted on the deck, a metal pail rolls across the deck and taps my ankle. At that moment, Malatesta's voice echoes in my mind: ...the sea is a weapon...

The Arachnid soldier recovers and leaps at me to throw an electric fist into my face. I drop down, evading her high-aimed punch, and sweep my leg at her feet. As the ship lurches again, the soldier is flung into the railing. I press the advantage, grabbing her by the ankle and shifting my weight to flip her into the water. I hear a muffled cheer that I recognize as Craig's voice.

The wind rising off the sea quickly disperses the smoke cloud, revealing a chaotic battlefield. Diego and Varyyn have made it across. Varyyn climbs towards the helm to engage Mike, and a flurry of expert blows and dodges fly between them.

“As the humans say,” Varyyn snarls, “'Get wrecked'!”

“I've never been more proud,” Diego calls up to him with an encouraging smile.

Towards the prow, Yvonne and Malatesta stand back to back, peppering the soldiers with pistol blasts. It seems they've brought at least half a dozen pistols each.

“When was the last time we did this, Yvie? The Santo Domingo rum heist?”

“Oui, that was a good night. And good rum!”

On the rear deck, Estela bends backwards to dodge a punch. Jake closes his hands around a fist and sends the soldier reeling. Raj hides behind them, clutching the weighted net. Then, there are two soldiers in front of me, cutting off my view of the rest of the ship. One has a beatstick and the other a sleek, modern pistol. The beatstick flies towards my head, and I barely manage to duck under it in time.  I leap back to my feet, only to realize I've popped up too quickly when the blunt weapon swings back around and catches me hard on the shoulder. I yelp in pain, stumbling.

“Alodia!” I hear Jake's frantic voice answering my cry.

“Jake, flank 'em!” I scream.

“On it, Princess!” Jake rolls under a soldier, and Estela spears her down. Keeping low, he flings a dagger that catches the pistol-weilding Arachnid in the hand. The soldier cries out, dropping his weapon. I leap at the one with the beatstick, knocking the weapon from his hand. I throw my whole weight into slamming the hilt of my sword into his head and he slumps to the deck.

“Allie, look out!” Diego's voice makes me turn. Beaten back by Varyyn, Mike has leveled his gun at me. I prepare to dive, but Aleister shoves the gun from Mike's hand.

“Do not kill her!” he shouts. I continue toward Sean and Craig, pulling a knife from my belt. I cut their gags off first. They both cough and stretch their jaws.  

“Alodia!” Sean gasps. “You're here!”

“Yeah Alodia is!” Craig cries. “We owe you big time!”

I glance briefly back at Jake, Yvonne, Malatesta, and Varyyn, covering me while I free the two men. I cut through the ropes around their wrists as quickly as possible.

“Don't mention it.” I cut Craig free and start on Sean. “You guys okay?”

Sean's bonds snap open and he pulls his hands free. In the same moment, his eyes widen. “Duck!” he yelps.

I drop into a crouch. Above me, Sean catches an Arachnid soldier by the baton and twists it from their hands, bringing it back to connect solidly with their head. The soldier hits the deck and doesn't move. Sean looks down at me, breathing hard.

“Alodia...I'll never let you down again.”

I blink, startled enough that I almost forget where I am. “Sean--”

“Shit!” Jake's frustrated cry distracts me. I leap back to my feet and immediately notice the second speedboat racing towards us, laden with more Arachnid troops. “Jesus, how many people did Lundgren recruit?! Being Arachnid used to mean something!”

“Take Aleister!” Estela shouts. “They won't harm us if we have him!”

Yvonne aims her pistol at Aleister and gestures with the barrel at The Dorado. “Cross over to our ship!” she barks.

Aleister looks helplessly at her. “I've already tried to tell you--”

“Va! Tout suite!”

Aleister sighs, but however reluctantly, he jumps the narrowing gap between the two vessels. With Yvonne covering us, we manage to escape back to The Dorado. By the time I reach the deck, Michelle is already tying Aleister up. He yelps in protest as she pulls the ropes tight.

“Th-that hurts!”

“Good!” she growls.

“Michelle!”

Michelle's eyes snap up at the sound of Sean's voice. Forgetting Aleister for a moment, she rushes over to throw her arms around his neck. He catches her up in a tight embrace.

“Sean! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I'm okay. Are you?”

“Guys, we gotta go!” Craig shouts. “The other ship is coming!”

“We're not goin' anywhere without Mike!” Jake's voice is a desperate snarl.

“Uh...Jake...?” Diego's voice trembles as he points to a figure hovering in the sky. “I think he feels the same way.”

Mike's jetpack lowers him onto The Dorado's deck. He scowls at us, his bionic eye flashing in the sunlight.

“Return Aleister to the Arachnid vessel.”

“Or what?” Jake asks lowly, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Mike answers by engaging his jetpack to rush at him, but this time Jake is faster. He ducks and tackles Mike from the side, grappling him to the deck. They roll together, trading haphazard blows.

“Alodia!” Estela hisses. “Say something! Stop him! The longer this fight drags out...”

I don't need her to finish that sentence. I know I should tell Jake to let Mike go. Promise we'll get him back next time. But I can't. I of all people can't ask the man I love to leave his best friend.

“Jake! Make him remember!”

Jake rolls on top of Mike and pins his arms down. “Mike, listen to me! Remember that time in basic training when we filled the shower heads with sand and we had latrine duty for weeks? ...Or...how about that time we got our C.O.'s radio stuck on the kids' channel and had to listen to Dora the Explorer for two hours on loop...?” Mike doesn't seem to react. I feel my heart breaking as Jake continues, his voice getting tighter and more desperate. “...Or the crap Lundgren did? Or how he almost killed us for finding him out? Or my! Fucking! Name?!”

He pounds the floorboards beside Mike's head, howling in agony and frustration. Mike keeps still, not even flinching. Sobs bubble up in Jake's chest and make his shoulders heave. He looks just about ready to give up. He even rises to his feet and starts to turn away.

“...Grandpa...” Mike's voice is soft, but it gets Jake's attention. He inhales sharply, turning back.

“...Mike...? Mike, can you hear m--” With lightning speed, Mike pops upright and throws his fist squarely into Jake's chest with enough force to send him crashing at my feet.

“Jake!” His name comes out of me in a terrified shriek as I drop to my knees beside him. I feel my veins turn to ice as he curls toward me, coughing violently and spraying the deck with flecks of blood. Michelle rushes over to kneel at his other side.

“Mouse, stop!” Aleister cries. “That's enough!”

“Jake, can you roll onto your back?” Michelle murmurs. “Alodia, help him. And get his jacket off him.”

“No more time,” I hear Mike say flatly. Jake moans as I help him out of his jacket. “We must go.”

The others cluster protectively around Jake as I cradle him on my lap, clutching his hand while Michelle lifts his shirt to examine his ribs. Taking advantage of our distraction, Mike moves to grab Aleister, cutting through the binding around his wrists with a small knife.

“Wait!” Sean cries. He steps forward, staring at Aleister.

“Sean, what are you doing?!” I yelp.

He doesn't answer me, looking into Aleister's eyes. “W-we never spoke much, but...I know what it's like to live in someone's shadow. You don't owe your father anything, Aleister. His praise isn't worth this.” He holds out his hand. Aleister stares at it in disbelief.

“Wh-what...?”

“Come with us. Try to make up for your mistakes. Help us win this.”

“Sean!” Michelle snaps. “Two seconds ago, he had you at gunpoint!”

“You sure picked...kff...a great time to have Stockholm Syndrome, P-Pretty Boy,” Jake gasps.

But I have images in my mind of a small idol forged from amber, shaped like a priest with the head of a cobra. And of a puddle of blood trickling off the edge of a small pedestal. Aleister's blood. The Endless had an idol for him, too. If he had died at MASADA, I never would have passed the test at the Threshold. Traitor or not, he is one of us.

“Sean's right,” I say. “Aleister, come with us. I know you regret what you did, and it's not too late to set things right.”

“...You...you would give me another chance? Just like that?” Wetness gleams at the corners of his eyes. Sean smiles gratefully at me.

“I knew you'd understand, Alodia.”

“Are you kidding me?” Michelle yelps. Jake shakes his head hard.

“J-just because he didn't...sh-shoot us...doesn't mean he didn't...ungh...load the gun! I ain't buyin'...any of this!”

Mike grabs Aleister's arm. The other Arachnid boat is waiting in the choppy waters nearby.

“We must go now.”

Aleister's shoulders slump. “...It's too late, anyway. The die is cast.” But there's a change in his expression now. He meets my eyes, and I hold his gaze as he grasps the straps of Mike's suit. As the two of them hover toward the approaching speedboat, Aleister still doesn't look away. As he vanishes from sight, I am left with the impression of remorse. Jake slumps in my arms, coughing weakly.

“...Mike...” he moans. As Michelle presses on the angry bruise forming on his ribs, a cry of pain catches in his throat, turning into a spasm of coughing that brings up another glob of blood. His grip on my hand is hard enough to hurt.

“Jake, you may have a bruised lung,” Michelle says grimly. “I need you to stay put for now.”

“Just try to rest,” I murmur, brushing sweat-damp strands of hair off his ashen forehead. He looks agonizingly up at me, a film of tears coating his eyes. “We'll find him, Jake. We'll find him and fix him. I promise.”

“Alodia, help me prop up his left side. It might help him breathe easier.” I do as Michelle tells me, piling discarded cloth under his left side, wincing at every pained noise he makes.

“...Will he be okay?”

“We'll keep him under close watch,” she replies, which does not reassure me much. “Jake, I know it hurts, but I need you to keep coughing periodically, deep as you can. The last thing you need is pneumonia setting in.”

Jake doesn't answer directly. He closes his eyes, and I feel his grip on my hand tighten subtly. “Hey, Maybelline...can you take a look at Princess's shoulder? She took a pretty nasty blow there.”

“Which shoulder?”

“What? Oh...the right.” Michelle comes over to examine it. “It's fine, though. I mean, it's not—ungh!” I grunt a little, wincing as she presses on the spot. Jake releases my hand to let Michelle manipulate my shoulder. For a moment, the only sounds are the lapping of waves against the ship's hull, Jake's labored breathing, and my own suppressed gasps. Then Raj speaks up.

“Uh...did we just successfully rescue Sean and Craig?”

Craig laughs. “Buddy, I've never been happier to see you! Come here!” The two embrace wildly, slapping each other's backs.

Yvonne and Malatesta have already begun raiding the abandoned vessel still chained to The Dorado.

“Yvie, ye better not cheat me! We loot together!”

“Mal, do you think I would steal from you? Because you're right.”

“...You'll be all right, Alodia,” Michelle murmurs. “It's just a bad bruise. It's not dislocated or broken or anything.”

“Thanks...”

I turn my attention back to Jake, stroking his hair. He opens his eyes to meet my gaze, but he doesn't speak. Michelle stands and wanders over to the side of the ship where the others are gathering, and embraces Sean again. He hugs her back.

“Sean, I'm so glad you're safe.”

“Same to you,” he says. “We got a lot to catch up on. But...I'd like to check in with Alodia first...”

Hearing my name, I lift my head to meet Sean's eyes. Michelle smiles up at him.

“Go on. But we're catching up later. I'm holding you to that.”

“I wouldn't expect any less.” He gives her another squeeze before making his way over to me. I stand up, holding out my arms for a hug, but he takes me gently by the shoulders instead, studying my face as if he can't actually believe I'm standing in front of him. I shift a little awkwardly.

“...I'm not a ghost, Sean.”

“You're really here. You really made it.”

“Remarkably, yeah.”

“...Last I saw of you, you were falling into the ocean.”

“And you were on a crashing helicopter. ...And Quinn had just been blown up. ...Believe me, Sean, I'm just as shocked to see all five of you mostly unscathed.”

Sean swallows hard, tears gathering in his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Alodia...”

I blink. “...Uh...for what?”

“What do you mean, for what?! I wasn't there for you when you fell out of the chopper! I mean...I didn't have a plan. I couldn't protect everyone.”

I take a deep breath, gathering my patience. I love Sean as much as the rest of the Catalysts, but I can't help but wonder when he's going to get it into his head that he doesn't have to be the hero all the time. That some things are outside his control, especially on this island...

“Sean, seriously. It's not your fault.”

“Guys...” Craig pipes up, his expression of elation giving way to worry. “You haven't seen Zahra yet, have you?”

Everyone goes quiet for a moment, the momentary elation of our reunion dampened by the weight of the fact that we are still incomplete. We all shake our heads. I drift back to Jake's side to take his hand again. Craig's gaze falls to the deck. Michelle reaches out to rub his shoulder comfortingly.

“Zahra's the smartest of all of us, Craig. I'm sure she's out there.”

“She better be. 'Cause if she's not, Rourke is gonna pay.” His expression falters slightly as a wobble enters his voice. “I-I know she's tough, but after all these weeks, she might--”

“Hold up!” Michelle interrupts. “Weeks?! It's only been a few days for us!”

“It's been a month since I've seen all of you,” Quinn says.

“Wait, we've all been experiencing different wavelengths of time within the island?” I ask incredulously.

“Have we ruled out being in the Matrix?” Diego quips. “Or is that still a possibility?”

“Something's changed,” Sean murmurs. “La Huerta wasn't like this before.”

Yvonne, combing through her plunder nearby, catches my eye and gives me a meaningful look. I shrink a little from her gaze, feeling my stomach clench. I know what she's trying to communicate to me, and I know she's right. I just wish she weren't. I take a deep breath.

“Look...there's something I should probably tell you guys...” But I trail off when I notice Quinn slumped and gasping against the railing, her face twisted with pain.

“It's...happening again...” she groans through clenched teeth. Michelle and Estela hurry to brace her. Concerned, Jake lifts his head, and I help him sit up.

“Is Quinn okay?” Sean asks anxiously.

“Not exactly,” Diego answers grimly. “It's actually why we were here. A piece of the Island's Heart is nearby. And when it calls to Quinn...it hurts her.”

“It...it wants me to go...there.” Quinn aims a quivering finger at a large atoll along the coast.

Malatesta looks where she's pointing and shakes his head. “Reefs are too dangerous to ford with the ship. We'll have to send her in a rowboat.”

Quinn looks at him sharply, eyes widening. “S-send me...alone?” she asks, her voice small.

“Nobody goes alone,” Estela replies firmly. “I'll go with her.”

“You're both basically sisters to me,” Michelle declares, “and sisters don't split up.”

“If you're all going, I wanna go, too,” Raj chimes in. As Diego, Sean, and Craig echo everyone else's sentiments, Malatesta sighs in irritation.

“A tamed monkey could do this task alone! Why're all of you going?!”

“Well, you know I'm going with everyone,” I say, ignoring Malatesta.

“Good,” Diego says, grinning at me.

“Are you having me on?!” Malatesta squawks. “What manner of lily-livered, hand-holdin'--”

“We all lost each other once already,” Estela snaps. “We're not splitting up just after finding each other again.”

We all turn to Estela with raised eyebrows. We were all thinking it, of course, we just didn't expect her to be the one to say it. She clears her throat, blushing deeply. Jake smirks.

“Guys, I think Katniss is finally opening up to us.”

“Shut up, cabrón,” she mutters, even as a smile plays around her mouth.

“Basically, what she's saying is that we're all in this together,” Diego says. “Nobody gets left behind or forgotten.”

“Two boats should fit all of us,” Jake remarks. “I can swim down to ge--” He cuts himself off with a cough that turns into another, and then a third. The fourth one brings up another bloody glob, and he slumps a little in my arms, groaning. With the edge of my sleeve, I gently blot sweat off his forehead. Michelle shakes her head grimly.

“Jake, in your condition, the last place you should be right now is underwater.”

Craig claps Sean on the shoulder. “Looks like you're up, brah!” But Sean's expression suddenly resembles a deer in headlights.

“I...I don't know if I'm at my best right now...”

“Then I'll go with you.” I meet Sean's eyes. “You haven't let anyone down, Sean. But if you need some support right now, I'm offering. We can handle this together.”

He looks at me for a long moment. His eyes shift over to Quinn, still supported between Michelle and Estela, then down towards Jake, breathing laboriously in my arms. He meets my eyes again and smiles a little.

“Spoken like a born leader.”

“Takes one to know one,” I counter.

“Let us depart, then!” Yvonne calls enthusiastically. “Prepare the rowboats!”

“Well you're not leaving me behind!” Malatesta snarls, his face the color of raw meat. “I was promised a crew, and I can't trust you not to galavant off on your own! And we better make it quick! While the sun's still high!” He marches over to yank a tarp off a pair of rowboats on the deck, muttering curses under his breath.

* * *

The sea under the boats is gentle as Malatesta and Yvonne row us into the atoll, following Quinn's directions. We can't help but take a moment to marvel at the kaleidoscope of colorful fish, coral, and plant life shimmering underneath the water's surface.

“Welcome to Neptune Cove,” Malatesta announces. “A great place to show a wench a good time.”

“Poor wench,” Yvonne teases.

I frown. ...Neptune Cove... Something about that name tugs at my memory. I feel certain I've heard it before, but at the moment, I can't place it.

“Broskies, are you seeing these colors?” Craig breathes.

“I've heard some fish have psychadelic effects when you eat 'em!” Raj remarks, grinning.

Diego laughs. “Guys, look! I found Nemo!”

“Is that your people's name for that fish?” Varyyn asks. “How fascinating.”

“I wonder if I could use some fresh-cut seaweed in a facial,” Michelle muses. Sean cranes his neck over the edge and whistles lowly.

“How far down does it go? I can't even see the bottom.”

“You'll see soon enough, Michael Phelps,” Jake quips. As jagged coral formations start to catch along the undersides of the rowboats, Yvonne and Malatesta draw the oars inside.

“This appears to be the furthest we can take you,” Yvonne remarks. Quinn, huddled up in Michelle's arms, looks up at the rest of us. Her face is pale and tight with pain.

“It's definitely close by,” she confirms, her voice weak. “Feels like it wants to rip me through the boat.”

“That's a deep reef,” Jake remarks. “You got anything to help you breathe underwater?” I can't tell if he's talking to me or Quinn, but I give him a quick kiss.

“You just worry about breathing up here, Top Gun.”

As Sean strips off his shirt, I pull off my boots and bodice. After a moment, I cast aside the shirt and breeches, too. I don't want to sit in wet clothes all day.

“Ready, Alodia?”

I nod. “Ready when you are.”

Balancing on the edge of the rowboat, I arch my arms over my head and dive into the reef. The water is pleasantly warm. A few seconds later, tepid pulses hit me as Sean dives in beside me. I open my eyes to let them adjust to the saltwater, and I can't help but take a moment to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. There's a perfect circle of sea anemones, fronds of jagged coral, filled with deep crevices, and a peculiar sand dune. I surface for a moment to meet eyes with Sean.

“Should we just go for it?” he asks uncertainly.

“Nothing else we can do, I think.”

I take a deep breath and dive again, going for the sand dune. Sean follows me, taking my hand to help pull me down faster. I stretch out a hand and plunge my fingers into the sand. A golden cloud of sand billows up, obscuring my vision, and I grope blindly. My fingers brush something solid, and I grasp it, just as my lungs are starting to burn. I push off the sea floor and hurtle back towards the surface, breaching with a deep breath. Sean surfaces beside me, disappointment plain on his face.

“...We didn't find it, did we?”

I look at the object in my hand. It's not the Island's Heart, to be sure. It appears to be a brass padlock, aged and corroded by saltwater. I turn it over, and find some words etched into the back, just barely readable: No land, no sea, no one will keep us apart. Flora & Eugene, 1920.

“Huh. It's unlocked.”

“...It's not the Heart...” Sean punches the water in frustration, sending up a splash.

“Easy, Sean. It's nearby here. We can try again.”

“I can't!”

I sigh. “Hey, Sean--”

“I said I can't, okay?! I can't do it! I can't do anything without screwing up and someone getting hurt! The whole time, I've tried to be the Q.B. Call the shots. Do everything right! And where are we now?! At the end of the world, some of us missing, some of us hurt...”

“Sean, this isn't your fault. I don't care how strong or how tough you think you are. You can't shoulder the blame for things that were out of your control.”

“...I...”

“You didn't know we were going to be stuck on this island, or about Rourke, or any of this.”

“...I could have done more. Made better split decisions.”

“Oh my god, will you cut yourself a break?!” My voice rises to a shout. Partly because I am losing patience with him, but also because he has responded to tough love in the past. “We're all out of our depths here! Even Jake and Estela—an elite military pilot and an honest-to-god revolutionary—have been groping in the dark most of the time we've been here! Every day, we're doing all we can just to survive. And somehow, we're doing it. So stop blaming yourself for everything and come help me find a magical rock with space-time powers, please?”

Sean looks away. His cheeks are wet, but I can't tell if it's seawater or tears. He is quiet for a very long time. Long enough for me to figure out that tough love wasn't going to cut it this time.

“...You don't understand, Alodia. Ever since I kicked my dad's abusive, alcoholic ass out of the house, I've done everything to carry the load. I didn't want to be a burden on anyone. Not like he was. But now, after all that's happened...you saving my ass, keeping us going...I just don't know how to keep pretending like I'm good at this.”

I stare at him for a long moment, entirely lost for words. In all this time, I have tried again and again to make him understand. I have scolded. I have soothed. But somehow, I cannot reach the heart of him. I cannot reach the depths of his fears. Just as I feel frustration and despair creeping into my heart, the water around us begins to shimmer. I inhale sharply.

“Sean, do you see that?”

Beside us, a ghostly, featureless head breaches the surface of the water.

“Alodia, get behind me!” Sean pushes himself between me and the ghost. Unfazed, the figure withdraws something small and shiny and holds it out to Sean. It's a gold-plated watch.

“That's...not possible! It doesn't exist anymore...” The figure imploringly pushes the watch at Sean.

“What is that, Sean?”

“It's...my father's watch...” He looks helplessly at me. “Alodia, what do I do here? Do I...take it?”

“Take it. I think it will help.” When he still hesitates, I take it myself and hold it out to him. A part of me thinks it may only work with both of us touching it, anyway. Sure enough, as soon as he touches it, the world flashes white.

We are in a training room somewhere, with rubber floors, floruescent lights, an array of fitness equipment, and the faint odor of sweat that will probably never fade. Sean, dressed in a purple and black Condors uniform, sits crosslegged on the floor, pouring over the playbooks strewn in front of him.

“If the Seagulls' safety tries what he did last game--” His musing is interrupted by a crisp knock. A short woman wearing a Condors jersey rounds the corner. Sean looks up and smiles.

“Momma!”

The woman's name is Tricia Gayle. I don't question how I know this. She smiles at her son.

“There's my starting quarterback!” Sean stands to pull his mother into an embrace. She laughs. “Hold on, hold on! Lemme get a good look at you.”

She pulls out of his arms and cranes her neck to look up at Sean's face. He grins.

“Look all right?”

“Oh, those cameras won't know what to do with you!” she gushes.

“Well, hopefully they only catch me when I make the good plays.” Tricia steps back, launching into a cheer routine with invisible pompoms.

“Get 'em with a forward drive! Keep that winning streak alive! Get 'em Gayle, give 'em hayle! Goooo, Gayle!”

Sean looks like he's biting his cheek to keep from laughing. “Wow, okay. Did you just mispronounce 'hell' to rhyme with our name?”

“Chant's gotta rhyme somehow,” she replies with a shrug. Sean can't keep the laughter in anymore. Tricia joins him, and the two sink breathlessly down onto a bench. As their laughter dies down, the silence that follows is suddenly heavy. There is worry in Sean's eyes. Tricia puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Coach said you were working too hard. What's wrong, baby?”

Sean sighs. “...I've already had reporters ask me if Dad'll be here. They keep asking about what he's telling me. ...I'm glad we've kept everything under wraps, it's just...I'm trying to be a better man than he was. But it's like I can't stop feeling him over my shoulder.”

“Oh, Sean...” Tricia reaches up to cup his cheek and turn his face towards her. He smiles weakly.

“I know, I know. I'm not Dad. I'm a different person. I get it.”

“But he's a part of you, Sean. Just as I am. You can't just ignore someone that shaped so much of your life. I know you still have his watch in your desk drawer. You deserved so much more from him.”

“Yeah, well, we don't always get what we deserve. But even thinking of letting someone down a fraction of the way he did us...”

She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “You have his strengths, too. He did actually have a few. Do you remember Thanksgiving the first year your dad was gone? How I wouldn't let anyone help me in the kitchen?”

“Oh, do I ever. Especially the trip to the E.R after you dropped the turkey pan on your foot.”

“I wanted to prove to everyone that I was fine without him. That I could do everything for everyone else, and take care of myself. 'What doesn't kill us makes us stronger,' I thought. The truth is, baby, no one is indestructible.” She chuckles ruefully. “My bones sure wished I sucked it up and asked you for help that day.”

He snorts. “I bet.”

“Reporters will say what they want about you. You can't control them. But don't let worrying about your father's mistakes push you into making your own.”

Sean exhales slowly. “Thanks, Momma. I...really needed to hear that.”

“That's why I said it. Just try to relax. Remember this is the beginning. You were the number one draft pick, and you're already defining your own legacy. Most important, remember that you don't have to carry the world on your shoulders. You got plenty of good folks to share the load with.”

Sean pulls her into a tender embrace. “...Thanks, Momma. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Now relax, take a breath, and go win your first game.”

When I find myself back in the ocean again, the sun is sinking low on the horizon. Sean stares at me, dumbfounded.

“...You okay?”

“Alodia, that was...” he swallows hard. “...That was just what I needed.”

He looks down at the watch. For the first time, I notice the inscription on the back: Marcus Gayle. The watch doesn't look like it's going to be able to tell time anymore, but as he clutches it to his chest, Sean smiles at me. I smile back.

“So, you're feeling better?”

“Lots.”

I look over at the ghostly figure, which has started to become hazy. Before it can fade completely, it beckons us down into the shining reef.

“...I think it wants us to follow it. ...I'm gonna do it.”

“Okay,” Sean agrees. “I'm coming too.”

He takes my hand to pull me down again. There is intense light coming from somewhere amid the coral formations. We swim fiercely after the rapidly descending spirit. When I reach the bottom and dare to glance at the source of the light, I catch sight of the shimmering edge of a broken sphere. I grab hold of it and let myself float to the surface.

By then, the sun has set. Stars are starting to appear in the dusky sky. I hold aloft the second half of the Island's Heart triumphantly. Sean stares at it, smiling faintly.

“You found it...”

I grin. “We found it. Give yourself some credit sometimes, huh?”

We dogpaddle back to the rowboats. As we approach, I hold up the Heart again, grinning.

“You did it!” Quinn exclaims.

“We had a little help,” I quip.

“What happened?” Diego asks, helping me into the boat. “From here, it looked like an Electric Light Parade.”

“Hey, if that glorified disco ball wants to show you houw to get to it, I'm not complaining,” Jake drawls.

Malatesta eyes the Heart. “...Mighty fine gem ye've got there.”

“Yes,” Michelle agrees, glaring at him. “And it's not yours.” She holds out her hand for the Heart. I pass it over and let her place it in her backpack. She keeps her eyes locked on Malatesta as she zips it up.

“We should get back to the ship before Rourke's men come searching for it,” Estela declares. Yvonne and Malatesta need no more encouragement. They take up the oars and begin rowing us back to The Dorado. I pull my clothes back on.

“Uh...Doodlejumps?” Raj suddenly speaks up, his voice quivering. “...Friends?” I look over at him. He aims a shaking finger at the water. I look. My blood runs cold. An enormous form is darkening the water underneath us. Through peaks of waves, I can make out dark fins writhing in the deep.

“Oh, no...” I whisper. “No, no, no, please...not now...”

A massive wave pummels the rowboats as a gaping maw rises in front of me, large enough to swallow both boats in a single gulp. Rows upon rows of sword-like teeth crackle with electricity that makes my hair stand on end. The massive serpentine beast is too close for me to make out his shimmering blue face, or his eyeless gaze, but I don't need to. I feel my heart sinking into my belly.

You are Andromeda, a voice in my head taunts. Did you really think you could escape Cetus?

[drennalynspast]

[ yay roomate ]

Tuesday, Jun. 08, 2010

Typed and emailed to myself 3/2010

Thank god this is my last semester at this school.   As much as I am wanting to “turn over a new leaf”,  I still feel conflicted about several things.especially during this past week.

Roomate:     it was an ecstatic thought having one of my best friends live with me in my apartment for this semester.  I thought it would be one of those mutualism type symbiotic relationships where both people benefit.  To my dismay, I feel like it is parasitic at times.  I feel angry, frustrated and drained.  I have some pet peeves which are petty and I know that it is something that I should deal with myself and suck it up.  For one, after she uses the rice cooker and eats her meal for that time, she doesn’t put the cooked rice in the container and store it in the fridge.   Nope, she leaves it out overnight in the cooker or even more than 1 day. 

Whenever my I go home on those rare occasions, my mother would always cook a bunch of food for me in containers so I could reheat the food and eat it.  She also made a lot and said I could share with my roommate  which I do.  My roommate, on the other hand, doesn't really do that for me.  Her parents don't think about doing that for their child.  I feel like most of my food that my mom cooks is what is feeding her.  And then when we run out of that food she complains about what is there to eat around here.  Then I mention, go buy food and cook something.  She says, “I don’t know how to cook though.”  I said, buy canned /box stuff and microwave them, google for recipes that teach you how to cook something.     

On the snow days, she asked if she could use my ice scraper because she didn’t even have one in her own car.  She also didn’t have gloves.  Underprepared much?  Sometimes I feel that if she were living with someone else, she would be worse off.

This morning, good god. I was late for my class.  We always carpool everyday, and today was her turn to drive.  If I wanted to sleep in or not carpool that day, I would have mentioned it early in the morning or the night before.  But I never mentioned any of that to her.   I stupidly put my cell phone on silent and forgot to change the setting, so I did not hear my alarm.   She didn’t even bother to wake me up or say something about it.  She just left.

This frustration was just a new experience I faced compared to living in the dorms.  In the dorms, there is the unspoken rule that you don't really share and everything you have is yours and set within your boundaries of the room.    Whereas in an apartment, some things you will have to share, and are both there is a more difficult responsibility because you have more area to maintain.

I understand that people were raised differently (obviously) and they may have different mannerisms and customs.  Still just fucking still I feel like that shouldn’t be an excuse.  I just wish that people would wake up from their ignorance and actually offer to do something generous on their own without being asked to do it.  My parents tell me to not really complain much to her because we don't want to put any strain on how we live together (aka try to prevent her from wanting moving out because she is saving us more money).  Sure, sure. I can deal with that.  I suppose I will take the trash out on my own, vacuum the carpet, clean the countertops and bathroom, sharing my mom's cooked food with her.  I am fine with doing that.  Is it selfish of me to wish that someone would try to be nice to me too?  It probably is.  While I am not verbally requesting much of her to do things/change her behavior, I may appear tolerable and nice.  But inside, I sometimes don’t feel satisfied for myself holding back like that.  I know I am a pushover a lot.  Sometimes, I feel like I am going to snap one day though.

After coming to this newfound realization of coping to live with someone , I can honestly say that I am proud of how I can be independent of myself at times as far as learning how to do things on my own and think critically.  I am actually thankful for my parents and how they help prepare me.  If they weren’t so supportive of me and helpful, I am not sure how I would be.  I would at least hope that I would try to work harder/think for myself and not be dependable on others so much.

 _________________________________

The cake is a lie. Sooo This past week I experienced like some kind of uh freakout episode.  I dunnno how to describe it.   I went to occc to take a test that I needed to take for my PTA application.  It pisses me off how schools and business have this damn triage system making people wait and wait, and do things/go to a certain department before you can actually get the shit done in the department you need to do.  They would not consider me having a bachelors this may as one of the preference points (rankings that will make your application have a better status for acceptance but they aren’t necessarily required).  in the application, I was a little disappointed, though they were nice enough to tell me about how I can get an associate’s from them and include that in my application.   After I took the test, I didn’t score high enough in this one section to make me able to get a preference point for that subject.  They allowed me to take it again though. So,  I made a schedule to take it again that day.  As I was turning in my application file and requesting to have them make copies of shit and transfer stuff, it was after those 10 minutes what I realized what I did.  I turned in my application officially already and I still haven’t retaken that test and sent my scores in that application to update it. Oh shiiit >.<  I asked if I could have it back for a bit, but they said  I couldn’t have it back when I turned it in.  I was pissed off, was on the verge of crying.   I hated myself for losing an opportunity to make my application look better. I am worried if I will get accepted or not.

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

That evening at wford, I decided to cheer myself up and try to make a pound cake for the first time.  That did not go too well, because it turned out shitty. Then I got mad and frustrated even more.   The next day, I decided I would try again to make the pound cake using a different technique.  As I was going through my cooking utensils, I noticed that I was missing a tablespoon that I had.  I was mother fucking pissed and frustrated as hell.  I frantically looked for it, but still could not find it.  My presumption was that it was accidentally thrown away.  I know that  I could still use my teaspoon three times to achieve one tablespoon but that wasn’t the point. The point is that I was lost something that belong to a set. And now my set looks incomplet..  So yeah, I literally cried and laid on the floor crying in frustration.  An hour later, I was annoyed enough to the point where I went to walmart to buy another whole measuring spoon set just to ease my mind.  I know it was extremely unnecessary .>.> I even bought a more expensive and different set compared to my original one

Bottomline : I never realized how emotional I could be from something like all.   After the spoon incident, I vowed not to try to attempt baking/cooking something new when I am emotionally unstable.  When I realized how much I failed at baking,  it made me feel like I could not succeed in anything.  I don’t know how to bake ;_; , when I mess up I get mad because I lost ingredients and my time.    ____________________________________

Schoolbleh: >My roommate and I made a lent thing where we would make a study log book.  We made it so that we had to achieve a certain amount of time of studying per subject or else we would have to be punished. Punishment would be waking up at 6 am to go jogging around our complex.  Another part of our to do stuff was to work out at a minimum of 3 times a week.   So far, this idea and goal has been helpful for us.

Working on applications is a bitch.  My parents tell me I need to apply for more schools, but most of the other school (out of state) applications already had a deadline like in fall 2009 >.> furthermore, it is not easy to just apply.  Because they may require different courses, exam scores, letters of recommendation etcetceetc.  I have enough trouble trying to work on 1-3applications as it is.

As far as classes, I have been trying to work harder on them.  I set the curve in one of my classes and got booted up to a 100 for that test grade. I want to try to be one of the highest grades in that class now... I just need to study moar =_=.   I also am enrolled in this “sailing/hiking/canoeing etc parks and recreation class”.  It is really fun.