#or why Cynthia keeps showing up with bruises on her neck

[nerdyvocals]

Something I need to see in season 2: at least one full episode of Nancy being the best ally and coming up with increasingly batshit excuses for why Cynthia and Lydia keep disappearing together until Cynthia is ready to tell the other Pink Ladies

[amlovelies]

from which they never recovered

fandom: fhr pairing: Julia Ortega/f!sidestep (Cynthia Basri) rating/warnings: M--alcohol use/abuse as well as death/suicide reference. light spoilers for retribution. there’s some soft fluffy moments, but it ends with pretty heavy angst  words: 2.4k read on ao3

“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise 

 1525 days before            

               Julia winces and drops her hand. The angle she needs to start the braid is putting too much pressure on her injured shoulder. Her long dark hair is still damp after the shower washed away all the traces of blood and grime and God knows what else the fight had left on her. She could just leave it alone, let it air dry, but that’ll just mean a bigger fight later. Better to grin and bear it now, get it braided and tucked away even if hurts. It’s just pain. Julia is no stranger to pain.

               “Let me idiot” Sidestep says from as she rises from her chair on the other end of the breakroom.

              “What are you plotting?” Julia narrows her eyes. She never should have introduced her to Anathema. Themmy had always enjoyed pranks, but they had gotten much more effective ever since Sidestep had begun hanging out at HQ.

               “Nothing, I promise.” It’s amazing how Julia can hear the eye roll behind the unmoving mask. “It’s just a little pathetic watching you struggle, old woman.”

              Not afraid to ruffle feathers this one, maybe that’s why she likes having her around, even if the old barb stung a little. That’s fine, two can play at that game, “do you even know how to braid? For all I know you could be bald under there.”

               “I know how to do lots of things, Marshal.” Sidestep crosses to stand behind the couch, and Juila has to tilt her head back to keep her in her sights. Is she flirting?

               “Oh really? Have any other skills you’d like to show me?” Julia replies with a wink. Is she flirting back? This is new.

               “Do you want help or not?” She doesn’t wait for an answer instead pushing Julia’s head forward and beginning to gather the hair in her hands.  

               Julia is used to other people touching her. The doctors checking on her mods, the media team preparing her for an appearance. Hair and makeup and wardrobe buzzing around her making sure she looks presentable, attractive, heroic. It comes with the territory. So why then is a quiet tension building in her stomach, a fluttering awareness of how close Sidestep, no not Sidestep—Cynthia, stands? It’s still a new concession, the name, a small piece of the mystery of Sidestep. She rolls it around in her mind, still not used to it, but the moment feels too personal, too intimate for aliases.

               Her gloves are off, Cynthia’s bare fingers brushing against the shell of her ear, the back of her neck as she gathers all the loose strands together. Cynthia’s breath ghosts over on her scalp, her body standing so much closer than usual. Cynthia’s movements are soft and timid; the braid is looser than Julia would prefer, as if she’s afraid of making it too tight of pulling her hair, of hurting her.

               A world of difference from training where she never pulls her punches. Julia had gotten more than a handful of bruises from their sparring matches. Had given them too, Sidestep was never one to tap out, just a single minded intensity and desire to win. Julia could understand that.

               “I should have been quicker,” Cynthia’s words breaking the silence. Her voice cracking, just a little, just enough to make Julia reach back and grab her hand. Her skin is cool, softer than she expected.

               “And I should have been more careful.” A gentle squeeze of the hand

              “Fat chance of that happening,” Cynthia says with a laugh, extracting her hand, and returning her attention to finishing the braid.

              “You know me,” Julia’s chuckle is soft, her hand slowly returning to her lap. Her skin tingles, itches and she fiddles with the emitter. “I’d be a hell of a lot worse off than a sore shoulder if you hadn’t been there.” Hospitalized for sure, maybe dead.

               “I couldn’t let that happen when you owe me dinner.” A final twist and the braid is finished.

               “I better clear my debt then; c’mon I know just the place.”

1329 days before            

               “You don’t even know what I look like.” Cyn paces back and forth in the empty training room.  Frustration rolling off of her in waves.

              It had been six weeks, two of which Julia had spent worried sick because Cynthia wouldn’t return her calls. Finally breathing a sigh of relief when she’d shown up at HQ as if nothing had happened, resolutely sidestepping all of Julia’s attempts to get her alone, to talk to her about the kiss.

               Like dealing with a skittish animal, Julia had done her best to give her space. This was all new for her too, but dinner was a safe place to start, wasn’t it?

               “So?” Julia smile is soft her voice certain, “I know you.”

              “You only think you do” Cynthia scoffs, her pacing finally stilled as she stands with her arms crossed. No doubt glaring behind the mask.

               “Then show me, tell me.” Just one step closer. She isn’t moving away.

               “Nosy.”

              “I am.” A pause, “I would also like to kiss you again.” It comes out softer than Julia had intended, more an admission than a tease.

              She waits. Waits for a quip or an insult, something caustic and sharp, a way to put more distance between them, but it doesn’t come. Just silence.

               A deep breath, and then quick, so quick, Cynthia’s hands are moving and the mask is off. Her voice is hard as she asks, “still want to kiss me?”

               She looks smaller without the mask, smaller and younger and fragile. Just Cynthia, not Sidestep. She won’t meet Julia’s eyes. Her stance rigid and fierce as if expecting some sort of condemnation, as if Julia would take one look at be disgusted.

               “Very much so,” Julia admits, and it’s the truth. She’d hardly allowed herself to speculate on what lay under the mask. There were things she knew; facts gathered from the bits and pieces she had seen. The warm tawny color of her skin, the full swell of her lips, the way her smile goes crooked, images which had haunted the edges of her dreams.

               “You’re ridiculous,” Cynthia’s voice is brittle, all the hardness from before falling away.

               Had she really expected rejection? Couldn’t she see how beautiful she is?

               “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

              She’s rolling her eyes, but she isn’t pulling away as Julia tilts her face up. Her lips are chapped, but still soft. Soft, like the gasp that falls out of them just before their lips meet. Cynthia’s arms rising to wrap around Julia’s neck, and the kiss deepens into something molten and breathless.  

               The kiss breaks, and Julia pulls back. Not far, just enough to watch Cynthia’s face, to try and memorize her features and make them fit into the idea of Sidestep, for her brown eyes to begin to replace the white of her mask in her mind.

              She kisses her again, a small peck, and Cynthia chases her lips. Pulling her down, the kiss is hungry and unexpected. Soon, too soon, she’s moving away. Mask pulled down, features concealed, only the familiar blank visage of Sidestep and even that is turning away.

              “I should go,” mumbled almost as an afterthought as she nearly runs for the door. Julia watches her go hoping it won’t be weeks until she sees her again.

 518 days before

               Cyn is sleeping again. Good. Maybe those dark circles under her eyes will start to fade. She’d slept for most of the drive, passing out almost as soon as they left the city limits. Something is wrong, has been wrong for weeks now. Should have forced her to go to the hospital after the nanosurge. Thrown her over her shoulder and carried her there if she had to. It wasn’t right to see her this way. Julia knew using her telepathy took a lot out of Cyn. Had seen her drained and exhausted, but never like this.

                The city would be smoldering ruins if the military had their way.  Julia would be . . . she shudders at the memory. There wouldn’t be anything left but her mods. No piece of Julia left to bury, just Charge.

               Cyn had saved them all, and maybe broke herself in the process.

              At least she’s at the ranch now. Oh, it had taken days to get her to agree, but in the end, Julia had worn her down.  Mama hasn’t quit fussing over her; Cyn has offered little resistance, probably just because she is too sleep deprived and weak to protest, but it’s still a victory.

               Julia rejoins her mother in the kitchen. The last thing she needs is for Cyn to wake up and accuse her of watching her sleep. It would be true, but she can’t let her have the satisfaction.

               “You should have brought her sooner,” Elena admonishes.

               “I tried, Mama. She’s stubborn.”

               Her look is pointed, “so are you. Never stopped me.”

              “It’s not the same, Mama.” Julia sighs. They’ve struck a delicate balance the last few years. Cyn still disappearing on occasion, but only for days at a time. Not like before when she would be gone for weeks at a time. Reappearing with no explanation, but always looking worn. She keeps hoping that one day Cyn will share her secrets and let her help.

              Mama purses her lips, and Julia knows that look, knows she has more she wants to say and prepares herself for the old arguments and questions. Questions she wishes she had the answer for. Or at least wishes she knew Cyn’s answer. Julia knows hers, has for a while now.

              A shuffling sound as Cyn joins them and stops the lecture in its tracks. The circles are still there, but the deep crease between her eyes has softened. Good.

               “Did we wake you mija?” Mama voice is gentle unlike the glare she shoots at Julia. As if she hadn’t been talking too.  

               “It’s fine,” Cyn says with a yawn. “I’ve been napping too much today as it is,” she adds as she leans against Julia.

               It’s still a surprise when she’s willing to do that. To lean in, to hug, to kiss, to initiate contact rather than waiting for Julia to bridge the gap. Perhaps it’s a testament to how much stopping the nanosurge took from her. Cynthia not just accepting comfort, but seeking it out. The nosebleeds haven’t stopped, but at least they are less frequent. Leaning down, Julia presses a quick kiss to Cyn’s temple. She doesn’t even push her away.

              “Well, in that case, come help me with the vegetable, and Julia can work on the sauce.” Mama says as she begins grabbing ingredients and piling them on the counter.

               The three of them work well together, and Julia doesn’t even mind being the butt of all their jokes. Not that she’ll let them know that, after all she has a reputation to uphold. The bruising to her ego is worth it though, because at least Cyn is smiling and laughing. Almost looking like her normal self. Julia doesn’t trust her when she says she’ll be fine, but she hopes its true. Maybe a few days away from the city will be enough.

              Later, Cyn joins her outside. The stars are an unfamiliar sight, so used to the neon haze of Los Diablos, it’s easy to forget about them. It’s strange to think that they are still there, just hidden. They feel so much a part of the ranch and the open air, of childhood and more innocent times. A different world than the one of heroes and villains.

               Slipping her hand in Julia’s she whispers, “I won’t say that you were right, but thank you.”

              Julia can’t hide her smile as she captures Cyn’s lips in a kiss, but at least she resists the urge to say I told you so.

6 days after      

               She’s out of tequila. Fuck. Her edges are coming back into focus and there’s nothing to dull them.

              There’s a bar in walking distance, or she could get a cab. Have it take her to the wrong part of town, maybe get into a fight. Feel someone’s bones crunch under her knuckles, pretend it’s her own face. It’s all her fault after all. Should have trusted her instincts, should have made her stay out of it. Should have been quicker, should have had a firmer grip. Flash of green and the sound of breaking glass, right there in the back of her eyes. Nearer is better. Just need to get another drink. Need to make it all disappear, stop feeling the skinsuit slipping out of her fingers. Stop seeing her face (oh god she’ll never see her face again, never hold it in her hands, never see her crooked smile). Tequila, she needs more tequila.

                Her braid is a sad and tattered thing in her hands. Jagged edges where she’d had to fight to get the knife through the thickness. She shakes her head and it feel light, her hair swinging around, wrong. It feels so wrong. Everything feels wrong now.

               It still feels unreal. An empty coffin in a grave marked by a fake name, it can’t be real, it has to be some cruel joke.

               The braid goes in the trash, she can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at it without feeling Cyn’s ghostly hands. Always so careful and thorough (not anymore, they can’t do anything anymore), pulling loose strands back from her temple. It had been such a fragile thing at first. A closeness she hadn’t looked for. She could never have expected the way the touch of her hands would make her breath catch. Need more tequila. Have to keep the memories at bay.

               The feeling of loss when the braid was finished and Cynthia stepped away. As if she knew the first thing about loss then (is that her laugh?)

                She’d been such a coward. So afraid of pushing too hard, but she’d lost her anyway and it was her own fault. She’d lost her anyway and the words she never said burn in her stomach. Tequila. She wants to drown them (it won’t be enough) wants to drown herself.

               Tequila. She’s no stranger to pain.  She just needs (needed to tell her, will never get to now) more tequila.

tagging: @lord-king-saint, @roses-and-roo @lilyoffandoms @pearlsandsteel @kittlesandbugs and @bunny-loverxiv

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Day 7: hybrid.

Hello lovelies. Today I bring you a chunk of one of my massive projects. A pet project, in fact. I have written and rewritten the first 7 chapters so many times, I could almost recite it by heart. 

So, onwards!

(AU in which Alice is the daughter of a vampire-human hybrid, who was raised in an abusive home, and ends up in the care of her father and his husband in Forks. Hybrid biology is a little different - or rather, expanded - from canon. This was basically my attempt at expanding the Twilight universe beyond vampires and werewolves and examine the idea that humans are really the worst. At this point in the story, Alice has arrived in Forks, had a less than welcoming experience with the Cullen kids and met Dr Cullen in a professional capacity.) 

You know when something huge happens to you, and you tick yourself off because somehow you managed to miss all the signs that it was going to happen? But when you think back, there were no real clues - everything that happened was completely innocent and ordinary. There was no way you could have known.

Thursday night turned into one of those. There was no way I could have ever seen it coming.

“Alice, honey, could you run to the gas station and grab some milk?” Simon called from the kitchen, surrounded by pots and pans. “We are completely out, and your father is highly unpleasant without his morning latte.”

Cynthia and I were watching TV; Cynthia was tapping away at her phone with a bowl of popcorn between her crossed legs, and I was flipping through my biology textbook boredly trying to summon the energy to do my homework, some sitcom playing on the television.

“Um, sure,” I said, tossing my book onto the couch and standing up. I’d do pretty much anything to avoid Biology.

“Great, there’s some money here. The gas station is four blocks down, then to your left. Don’t forget your phone,” Simon beamed at me, as he took an enormous knife to a fish that I suddenly felt sorry for, whilst gesturing at a small dish that held spare keys, change and a few folded bills.

Plucking a ten from the bowl, I grabbed my bag and my sneakers. I could kind of understand Simon asking me – Dad was in the shower, Cynthia was already in her pajamas, and I was almost eighteen; much safer than a fourteen-year-old walking the dark streets. Plus, I knew how to defend myself. And this was Forks – as far as Simon knew, a perfectly safe place to walk around after dark.

The walk was cold, seeping in through my hoodie, and I was grateful to spot the gas station, cutting through the alley between the buildings.

The gas station was brightly lit, and clean – it was really more of a mini-mart. I found the milk, and detoured down the candy aisle to snag myself some chocolate. The cashier was some college-aged guy, more interested in his car magazine than me, as he slid the change and my bag across the counter.

Sighing, I headed out, cutting back through the alley, stepping around the dumpster.

I didn’t see anyone.

I didn’t see him until it was too late.

Jasper Cullen; he was standing at the end of the alley, in an army green hunting jacket.

I paused next to the dumpster, my hand tightening around the handles of my bag.

He said nothing, but watched me with a strange and unpleasant look on his face. The back of my neck prickled as I continued walking down the alley. Why didn’t I turn around and walk back to the gas station? Why was he here?

Why would a vampire hang out in dark alleys if they were trying to blend in?

The little voice of logic in the back of my mind was rattling through all the reasons I should stop, but I didn’t. I just kept walking, my hoodie obscuring my face enough that I looked like I was looking at the ground when I was really keeping an eye on him. He was unmoving, his hair in his eyes, casually leaning against the brick retaining wall. He could have been any other bored, rebellious teenager.

My problem was my complete stubbornness. I can’t back down from a challenge. I don’t enjoy retreating and regrouping. A one-girl army against the world.  

I just kept walking, not even planning on acknowledging him. I just wanted to get home, back to the warmth of my fathers’ house, the hum of the television. And I would be; in ten minutes, I’d be home, back on the couch with my candy. Simon wouldn’t be happy about me eating chocolate, let alone gas-station candy, before dinner but he wouldn’t stop me this time.

Distracting myself with my daydream of getting home, I didn’t even have time to flinch when Jasper finally moved.

His hand jerked out like a striking snake, clamping around my forearm, dragging me towards him.

I yelped, trying to jerk free, but his grip was like iron. His eyes were completely black, and he was pulling me along, despite my feet scrabbling against the concrete. I was too far away from the gas station now – perhaps I could have gotten the attention of witnesses before, when I was closer to the street, but now we were fully cloistered in the shadows of the alleyway.

He threw me against the brick wall, and pain flared up my back; I choked on my own gasp. The bag containing the milk and candy fell from my grip and the milk burst cold and wet over my sneakers, as I stared up at him, trying to re-orientate myself.

Jasper was staring at me with naked desperation, moving slowly closer to me – his eyes were dark and dull, boring into mine; his jaw set and nostrils flaring slightly. I met his gaze and waited, trying not to show fear. That was important. Fear provokes predators. It gives them power.

It wasn’t easy – I was afraid. Bone-chillingly terrified, to be honest. I kept reminding myself that this wouldn’t be the worst thing I’d lived through. If I survived, of course. And thinking of home, whilst trying not to vomit.

It’s easy for a place to become home, if you think about it. Warm, safe, and with somewhere to sleep and food to eat. That’s all anyone really wants when it comes down to it. But it had taken only a week for me to love that place, the family I’d never known.

He fisted one hand in my hair and twisted my neck harshly to the side. The bones screamed but didn’t break, and I could hear my breathing – shallow and panicked. The even rational voice in my head politely reminded me that I was lucky – lucky he hadn’t snapped my neck or spine, that an ordinary human would be dead  

This, this had been my fear since I had seen them in the cafeteria, and now I was living it.

His teeth pierced my jugular roughly, and I gasped, my hands bracing futilely against his chest. It hurt, but it felt kind of good, too. His mouth felt hot on my throat, and it was only his hands holding me in place that kept me upright. I whimpered as my head swam and then suddenly he tore himself away - it hurt as my skin tore in his mouth, and I dropped to the ground dazed, blood spilling down my throat and shoulder, disgustingly warm.

He was choking and gasping, looking at me with horror before vanishing, and the world around me slowly darkened, until the cold and rough feeling of the pavement under me was all that I was aware of.

And slowly, even that left me.

I don't know how long I was unconscious but suddenly, I felt cold hands on me out of nowhere, only vaguely aware that an undetermined amount of time had passed.

"Mary-Alice? Mary Alice, I’m Esme Cullen," came a gentle voice, “You’ve been hurt, sweetheart.”

I blinked but everything was blurry and I was so tired. Was I sitting up? I didn’t know, and I couldn’t move. A soft, feeble whine of misery came out of my lips, but it didn’t feel like I’d made it. It felt like just breathing was taking up all my energy reserves.

“Holy shit, look at her eyes,” came a male voice.

“We need to get her to Carlisle.”

It felt like I was in a dream, as I was carefully picked up and carried. I could hear and smell the milk and blood dripping from me, feel the roughness of the towel against my torn neck. The coolness of vampire skin seeping through my clothing.

And then I was gone again.

--

A swirl of light, a massive space full of shadows.

My boots clicking on the floor as I walked in, dozens of mirror reflecting my movements.

The sound of my boots changing, and suddenly I was wading through blood. A gasp, and I looked up to see Cynthia in a nightgown, standing at the very edge of the pool of blood, looking scared; Dad and Simon clinging tightly to Cynthia as the blood kept closer to them.

Turning around to see Bella Swan, broken and staring, a mirror shattered all around her.

And the sound of every single mirror shattering into tiny, infinite pieces that sounded like rain as they fell…

--

“Mary-Alice?”

There was light.

It was kind of blue.

“Mary-Alice?”

And highly irritating.

“Mary-Alice?”

I blinked slowly as it shone directly into my eyes.  

“Mary-Alice?” came a pleasant voice.

My vision was blurry, but slowly clearing as I looked around. Dr Cullen was crouched in front of me; I was lying on a couch, with a pillow under my head, and the contents of a first aid kit spread out over a coffee table. The rest of the Cullens were scattered around the room, all with grim expressions of varying degrees.

Nothing like regaining consciousness in a room full of people standing around and staring at you.

At least no one was getting handsy.

I ignored them as I slowly sat up, my head feeling like it was full of sand, but glaring when Dr Cullen moved to assist me. My hand reached up to the bite wound – only to find bandages covering my throat.

“Just a few stitches,” Dr Cullen said, with a pleasant smile. “You lost quite a bit of blood.”

“Mm, I always seem to be misplacing that,” I muttered, testing movement in both my arms and my neck. My back felt like one massive bruise, but I didn’t want to draw attention to that right now. Better than the broken ribs – or paralysis - anyone else would have ended up with. Still, it hurt and would take its sweet time to heal. My neck stung and pulled as I moved, but again, I was alive, and that was all that I ever really hoped for.

Surely I was running out of lives. One of these days, something had to put me down for good.

I looked up at Jasper, standing awkwardly in the corner and scowled. “You know Hale, normally you take a girl out to dinner or something first.” I mentally winced; my voice was slurring and croaky, not exactly the sign of ‘the unstoppable force’ I wanted to portray.

But I was clearly understood, as everyone froze, gaping at me, before Emmett began to laugh. And Rosalie seemed to be intent on murdering me with a glare.

“That answers our next question,” Dr Cullen sighed, gathering up the first aid kit. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I said grumpily, and trying to work out my next step, to get from couch to no-longer-in-the-Cullen-home.

I had learnt through previous experience that I didn’t have a chance of outrunning a vampire, or fighting one hand-to-hand, but I had a few tricks that would usually allow me to navigate myself to safety. Most of the time. With a bit of luck. And my bag always held an aerosol of deodorant and a cigarette lighter, in case of emergency. You can do a lot of damage with those things.

My head was spinning. I wished I was… basically anywhere but here.

Mrs Cullen suddenly appeared at my elbow, holding out a glass of water, with a strangely worried-hopeful expression on her face.

I took the water with a grimace that was meant to be a small smile of thanks.

What? They might have been bloodsuckers, but that didn’t mean I was going to be a complete asshole. After all, Mrs Cullen had come to rescue me, when she could have left me to bleed out in the alleyway and let a mugger or a wild animal take the blame. That was decent of her, and it couldn’t have been easy, with all that blood.

And I didn’t want to annoy them.

“You had a seizure of some kind, and when Esme and Emmett found you, your eyes and lips had turned blue,” Dr Cullen said. “I have a few questions.”

“Okay,” I said. I spied my bag next to the couch and reached for it, trying my hardest to keep a poker face at the pain that had taken up camp everywhere, rifling through for my phone.

Dad and Simon would be losing it. I had gone out to pick up milk.

“You know about us,” Rosalie said suddenly, her eyes flashing angrily.

“I do,” I said, finding the phone – which was flat. I still hadn’t quite gotten a hold of owning a cellphone, let alone remembering to check it and charge it.

“Start talking,” Rosalie snapped.

“Rose, calm down,” Esme said.

“She’s not human,” Edward said suddenly, his gaze flicking towards Jasper. “Her blood…”

Everyone looked at Jasper. He looked ashamed and tired, and I kind of wanted to hug him, even after his exsanguination attempt. It honestly wasn’t the worst thing that a vampire had tried to do to me. He looked like he needed a lifetime of hugs, actually. Maybe it was the blood loss, but I would have given him that hug if it meant I got to cop a feel; it would just a bonus for being a good Samaritan, really.

God, I was completely loopy. Had I hit my head?

“It wasn’t right,” Jasper said slowly. “It was wonderful at first, and terrible. Not thick enough, not warm enough either. At the end, it was like a bitter burn. Just… wrong. Contaminated.”

Everyone swung back to look at me, whilst I pointedly ignored them and jabbed the buttons on my cell phone experimentally. Nothing.

“What … what are you?” Dr Cullen asked me, his curiosity evident.

“I don’t like that question,” I said shortly. “And you get used to the flavour, I’ve heard.” Those stories, ugh. Mom like to use those as threats every time I had protested about anything – from another pointless ‘test’, to refusing to take a bath. It’s why she never, ever went anywhere near Nevada.

I grabbed my blood-stained hoodie off the end of the couch and struggled to pull it on.

“Jesus, what happened?” Emmett blurted out, and did they really have to stare like that?

I looked down, to see the neckline of my shirt had pulled to the side, to reveal the worst of my scars. It ran from the left side of my throat, across my upper chest and ended at my right clavicle. It was faint, invisible to the human eye, but vampire sight would see the webbing and tearing pattern.

“Boston when I was fifteen,” I said, zipping the hoodie up. “I spent my fifteenth birthday in hospital, handcuffed to the bed, so I couldn’t get away quick enough to heal it better.”

No one really knew how to respond to that.

“You’ve got quite a collection of scars,” Dr Cullen tried again. “And more than a few bite marks.”

“I should call my father, he’s probably worried,” I said flatly. “I went to get milk.”

“You cannot expect us to let you leave without telling us something. You know about us,” Rosalie snapped, stepping in front of me. “You should die for that.”

And I looked at them, really looked at them. In their nice clothes, with their nice house. A human girlfriend, and a human job. They had helped me, instead of leaving me to die. Whatever these people were, they weren’t like the vampires I had known.

“You all need to pretend you never met me,” I said finally, meeting her gaze without flinching. “Or you will die for that.”

And then I stood up, and left.

[gloves94]

The Munter [Paul McCartney] 1

Warnings: None Pairings: Paul McCartney/OC Summary: Sage O'Shea is a hardworking woman of the 1960's. A strange combination of brains and- well- Let's just say she is not your average beauty. Au contraire she's a Munter. John bets Paul that he wouldn't dare date such a monstrous woman. Despite his best judgement Paul agrees and takes John on his daring bet. Will Paul be able to see Sage's true beauty? What's going to happen when poor Sage finds out about their nasty bet? Whether the results are pretty or not- one thing I can say is love works in mysterious ways. Paul McCartney x OC *Comments and reviews are appreciated.* *Character development* *ALL EVENTS IN THIS STORY ARE FICTIONAL*

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

1. Meet the Beatles

Monday November 4th, 1963

The lights were bright and blinding. The Royal Command Performance was tonight, and it had sold out. People of all types, sexes and classes stood as this evening's audience. Women in the audience sobbed and pulled their hair, a sexual madness being liberated from their souls.

In their own private section sat: Queen Elizabeth II, Lord Snowdon and Princess Margaret. Even the British Monarchy had bothered to step down from their royal duties to witness this evening's performance.

The boys were feeling lively and they did what they knew they did best: they made music.

Ringo Starr sat with his drums his arms sore from keeping a lively beat up, head cheerily bobbing from side to side. George Harisson stood coolly holding his guitar, strumming along, a wide grin making way to his face; he still couldn't come to terms of where he was standing tonight. Paul McCartney sang along to "I Saw Her Standing There", tapping his foot and slightly bouncing as he played his bass. And John Lennon, well-

"Will the people in the cheaper seats clap their hands? And the rest of you, if you'll just rattle your jewelry!" he shouted wittily mid performance.

The crowd shouted even louder. On the bright side the thing about being blinded by the lights and deafened by adoring shrieks is that you can't even think about being nervous.

Just what was this madness beginning to unfold?

Little did they know that it was only the beginning of Beatle-mania...

The concert was a wild success. Even the Queen sent her congratulations and seemed pleased by the night's performance. So did the crazed fans that chased after the get-away car when the band exited through the stage's backdoor.

The after party followed. John was having the time of his life messing with some old geezers that had arrived at the lavish penthouse party they threw. A pair of long legs that strolled in caught his attention.

Of course, nothing his wife would ever know about…

Paul sat coolly in a love seat two cookie-cutter blonde models wrapped around his arms, laughing at his lame jokes and stroking his chest. George was drunk as a skunk and was uncharacteristically laughing loudly at some joke that Ringo made, at the same time he stuffed his face with a handful of finger sandwiches. Ringo was in the zone, the life of the party like always, cracking jokes, popping expensive bottles of champagne and dancing the night away. Nearby was an annoyed waiter who would've rather be asleep.

The only thing keeping him awake at this late hour were the colorful bills that John kept stuffing in his pockets.

The waiter looked at growing zeros on the tab, which only continued growing before Ringo signed off on it. At this rate he'd never have to work another day in his life!

Little did they know that the four of them were about to receive a foul wake-up call.

xxx

Brian Epstein, the Beatle's manager, stood tall. He was a no non-sense type of serious businessman. He flickered a minuscule speck of dust that rested on his shoulder of his clean suit at 8:00 AM sharp.

They were late. Of course, they were, they were always late. Even Paul, who was usually the most noble out of the four, was late.

He had been phoning their homes all night and had been unable to find any of them. In the process he had even awoken Cynthia, John's hot-tempered wife, who was not in the slightest pleased. It was after calling all of the five-star hotels in the city of London that he was finally able to get ahold of them. Of course, all four of them were together.

"You're late!" Epstein barked angrily as the fabulous four finally strolled inside of the room- about thirty minutes after his wake-up call. Ringo was holding onto his blistering headache he stumbled from side to side as he walked in still drunk. George seemed to be semi-composed. He wore dark sunglasses in order to hide his sleepy eyes and carried a bag of English muffins for breakfast. He was still wearing last night's clothes. Paul looked almost dead from lack of sleep his usually neatly trimmed hair was messy and sticking up in all directions. A shameless trail of hickeys branded his neck. John stomped in angrily not understanding why their manager had taken the time to phone them all up and had snitched to his wife on where he had actually spent the night.

"Do we have to do this so early?" groaned Ringo as he rubbed his tired eyes and threw himself down on one of the rotating chairs on the dull meeting room they were currently in.

The others did the same.

"Oi, Georgie what are ya havin'?" John said rolling his head from the sofa seat and hungrily eyeing the English muffin the handsome Beatle was about to stuff into his mouth. He paused for a moment and the slightest grin made way to his face.

"Not Paul, that's for sure," he said teasing as he glanced at the purple bruises on his friend’s neck.

Paul's hand reached for his neck and he covered the love bites from the previous night. He flashed George an irritated look. John laughed and persisted on asking for a muffin. George retorted that heshould've picked up muffins instead of going home to change clothes and receive a scolding from his wife. Ringo continued to complain-

"Enough!"Brian snapped on his last nerve.

"I swear, the four of you. Just like children..." he shook his head on the brink of losing his mind.

'And their career is barely launching off...'he rubbed his temples stressed out.

There was a long table in the empty meeting room. The four men sat on one side of the table facing their manager and friend.

"If you are wondering why I have gathered you here on this fine morning-" he said before violently ripping open the blinds of a window allowing a flash of white sunlight to fill the room. All men but George flinched at the brightness of the unusually sunny day in England.

"It's because all four of you are completely out of control!"

Paul was about to protest, but Brian remained rambling.

"I know you are excited. Your careers are taking off, but you gotta remain in line. Don't lose control. Don't fall into vices so early in the game," he said roughly scolding his band. "And you know what else is out of control? Your finances!"

This time none of them complained, it was true.

"You're stirring hurricanes in mugs!" George protested annoyed.

"Yeah- what's the big deal? We'll just draw more from the bank-" Ringo said casually.

"And this is exactly why we have a problem," Brian sighed, shaking his head. He feared that if they continued spending and acting this way- well, their fame and fortune would be short lived. He would never forgive himself if that happened. Then again, he'd also be unemployed.

"So- all of you are here this morning because we are having interviews. We will be hiring an assisting accountant to help you four with your finances (and teach you about how to use your money)."

The Beatles tidied up a bit and fixed their appearance ready for the interviews. The first interviewer that came in was a man that could've easily been Paul's grandpa. John didn't even give him a moment.

"Next!" Paul shouted abruptly.

"Yeah, if we wanted a porker around here we'd go to the butcher's instead! Oink! Oink!" John snorted before bursting out in a fit of giggles and high fiving Paul.

The other sniggered like school children. The man gasped, apparently, he was a highly renowned retired professor from Oxford and had just been compared to a swine. "Well I never-!" the man gasped and scurried out of the room with his folders.

"Zip it! Lennon! This is not an audition. These people are professionals!"

Brian scolded John and the others and barked out that they were to be respectful. Other professionals came in. They all showed promise and years of experience. None caught the men's attention. It was then that the first woman came in her name was Dinah Davis. She seemed competent and was an average looking woman with years of experience. But she had something that none of the other candidates did... Two very big assets.

The Beatles kept a complete silence as she spoke. Brian eyeing them carefully, he was waiting for it to come- the snarky comment, the mean joke.

It was then that George passed a note to Paul. Paul read it and smirked, then he wrote something on it and passed it to John.

"Hired Ms. Double D," John said blatantly.

The woman ran out of the room sobbing.

Brian warned John not to objectify any of these hardworking women. He was threatened that if he didn't keep his trap shut, bad things would come to him. John could be such a swine sometimes. “What! Those are her initials! I don’t see why she took it so hard.”

More came and went, but none were successful. Until one finally stole their hearts.

A red heel clicked as it stepped inside of the small office. The sound resounded Ringo's ears and he jumped in his chair standing up erect. George's eyes caught sight of a long leg and a mini skirt. John's eyes trailed from the bottom of that heel all the way up to the plumped cleavage she was showing off. Paul almost lost his balance as he leant forward over the table head over heels. The woman before them could've been a model She was straight down the definition of sexy.

She looked almost like she could be Bridgette Bardot's sister, a tall, blonde, bombshell with popping red lips. Paul smoothly covered his hickeys with his palm and flashed her the boyish sly smile he was infamous for, and George removed his sunglasses blinking at the harsh sunlight as he did.

She hadn't even introduced herself when John shouted "Hired!"

Brian rolled his eyes, "She hasn't even introduced herself!"

"That comes later. Over dinner, perhaps?" Paul added with a wink.

The woman before them giggled and handed Brian her curriculum vitae.

"Isabel Murdock," he read the title. In her resume he observed some experience and recommendations, but nothing out of this world. Most of it consisted on modeling jobs, there was nothing in accounting or finance. He looked at the way that the men were hungrily looking at the woman and the flirtatious looks she was giving them back. This was a bad idea. This woman was completely under qualified and she had gotten hired on the spot over professors from Oxford because Lennon was thinking with his boner.

Brian sighed. He rubbed his temples in frustration. So many professionals had come and gone, and they were going to settle, for her. He didn't know what to do. And so, he prayed for a miracle. He looked up at the dirty ceiling pleading to his deity for a sign, anything, or anyone that could take care of this issue.

His prayers were answered, and his miracle stormed in the shape of a whirlwind of a door slam and flying papers up on the air. His eyes snapped down back to reality and he saw a woman on her knees struggling to grab all of her scattered papers, security attempting to hold her back. Half of her dress was soaking wet and her hair was a tangled mess.

"Miss! You are late, no more interviews," one of the guards said escorting her out.

"Wait-" Brian called. He looked at the woman's panicked face.

"Let her in. Show us what you've got darlin', yes?" he said carefully. Could this be the miracle that he had asked for?

Isabel, the tall blonde, who stood in the middle of the room hands on her tiny waist brought a hand to her face to hide her cruel laughter.

"T-Thank you," the shy woman said coyly. Terribly embarrassed after having faceplanted in the initial second of her interview.

Ringo averted his eyes and pretended not to look at the woman. George attempted to fight every muscle on his face but failed and held a cringing expression. Paul's eyes went wide in what he couldn’t decide to be shock or horror and John's mouth was blatantly ajar. For the first time in what seemed to be forever he had gone mute. How was it possible for someone to look like that?

John could’ve sworn the ugliest woman in all of London was standing before him.

She was the fitted definition of a Munter it was her.

She was a Munter,word origin from the word monster. She was a woman of such hideous physical appearance that one would rather scour one’s eyes out than snatch any glimpse of her.

The woman that had just come in had bushy dark brown hair, her skin was stained with faded freckles, she wore her face bare and nude and had a pair of thick, massive circular glasses which hid her eyes from any prying ones. Paul cringed at her eyebrows which were thick, hairy, bushy almost like a dangerous caterpillar. A part of him was expecting it to jump at him. And to top it all she was dressed like Ringo's grandmother!

Amongst other flaws...

"Good-good afternoon," she managed bashfully.

"My name is Sage O'Shea," she said meekly before the Beatles. She could feel her ears burning she didn’t know if it was due to the embarrassment or due to the presence of the four really handsome men before her. The model standing next to the short woman looked down at her with apathy. There was no absolute way that she was getting this job.

She spoke about her resume, and how she had graduated as the top of her class and proceeded to explain what her experience was and how she had previously worked as an assistant and accountant for the owner of a local clothing store for some years until it closed down.

John visibly cringed at her appearance. Paul raised both of his brows in horror at her looks 'Had she ever looked at herself in a mirror?’ He thought shallowly.

"We'll I'd say our decision has been made, yes lads?" Brian said smiling proudly at the woman wearing the bulky sweater that deformed her. The dirty water that had splashed her only made her appearance worse. She was perfect for the job. She had the brains and she wasn't what you would consider a "looker" meaning that there would be absolutely no distractions.

"It seems so," Paul said through a thin, impolite smile.

"Yeah- Ms. Murdoch welcome to the team," John clapped his hands a wide grin on his face. Isabel flipped her perfect, golden hair over her shoulder and smiled with her perfect Miss Universe lips. The other one took in a deep breath her knees shaking slightly. She looked at the faces of the four men sitting in front of her with horror. She reallyneeded this job…

In the eyes of the handsome men, she was invisible.

Of course they wouldn’t notice someone like her…

Without another word she quickly scurried out of the room. She was outside of Abbey Road studios when she collapsed on the cold front steps no longer being able to stand up. Tears immediately poured out of her eyes like rivers down her flushed cheeks. The day she had had. Waking up late, running to the interview, being robbed of her breakfast on the way, getting splashed by a passing car, tackled by security and then collapsing in front of four of the most important musicians of the day.

What was she to do now? What would her life be like?

She knew that she wasn't pretty enough to marry and what had been the whole point of all her efforts of her being the number one in her class if no one would hire her? This had been her fifth interview and still there was nothing. What would she tell her mother? What was she going to do? And with the rent coming up...

She clenched her fist as she furiously wiped her tears. It was always the same.

Anger boiled in the pits of her stomach. That other woman...

Despite having zero experience, she had gotten the job on the spot, just for being pretty. The situation was infuriating. It wasn't fair...

It was then that she heard shift footsteps and suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll be on my way security," she answered automatically sniffling, furiously wiping away her hot tears.

"Wait," It was Brian Epstein.

He kindly pried his eyes away from the hideous woman. "Oi, we're not done with you," he said placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

They returned upstairs. Sage kept on whispering apologies for her tears as she wiped them from her red, puffy, face. She stepped in before Brian. Even more embarrassed and nervous than the first time.

"Very well then," Brian clapped his hands together.

"I think we've decided that we will be hiring both Ms. Murdoch, and Ms.-" He glanced at the brunette expecting an answer.

"We have made a decision?" John scoffed under his breath to George who was sitting next to him. "He practically decided to bring in that horrid thing!" George allowed an amused snort to escape his nose.

"O'Shea, Sage O'Shea," she repeated her name. "Ah, we have an Irish woman amongst us," Brian mentioned in an attempt to alleviate the awkward tension in the room. The mousy woman simply shrugged not liking the attention she was receiving. She wasn’t Irish and didn't even bother in correcting him.

"So, since we will have two assistant accountants, I think it's best that we split up accounts, two and two? How does that sound? One of you takes two of the boys; the other takes the other two-"

"Oi-Yeah, I'll have the lush one?" John called out barbarically in front of both of them. Isabel simply allowed a charming laugh to flirt with John. His words felt like daggers digging into Sage's skin. She crossed her arms over her chest feeling even more insecure. For a moment she hesitated in whether she should even take the job or not. So far, the work environment did not seem inviting in the least.

"John!" Brian hissed dangerously with scolding eyes. Not that John even cared. He simply mouthed an annoyed 'what?'

Paul nodded, his eyes fixed on the blonde "Second that."

"Not fair," Ringo muttered under his breath annoyed.

"I guess it's settled then; I'll keep an eye on John and Paul's accounts, and- what was your name? And Serg over here will take George and Bingo's," she smiled and clapped her hands. "It's Ringo," he coughed loud enough for her to hear. He was insulted. "Right, Dingo," the blonde absentmindedly repeated his name wrong, again. No one seemed to notice or even bothered correcting Isabel from calling Sage or Ringo by the wrong name. It didn't seem to matter to them. Even Sage didn't have the spine to stand up to the beautiful woman after John’s terrible comments. Ringo slightly frowned.

Brian went over some of the details for the schedule in which the women would work and what their accounting, mentoring and assistant duties consisted on. The Beatles introduced themselves to the women, Paul charmingly kissing Isabel's hand and awkwardly nodded in Sage's direction. John didn't even introduce himself to Sage! Only George and Ringo had the decency of doing it like proper human beings. Then again, they were going to be the one's working with her. Then they left.

Both women signed some official documents and Brian reminded them how lucky they were. He had to step out of the room to make some copies leaving just Isabel and Sage alone in the office room.

Sage sat slouched over, with her nose buried in some of the papers that Brian had given them. She pretended like Isabel wasn't sitting next to her towering in height, grace and beauty.

"Listen, I don't know what you pretend you are doing," Isabel said leaning back on her chair. Sage only looked at her with her eyes wide.

"It's obvious that this is going to be a competition and if I were you I'd give up now, before things get ugly. Uglier than you that is!" Isabel laughed cruel. Savoring every bit of her mean taunting.

Sage remained composed. The taunting wasn't anything new to her. Isabel wasn’t the first bully she had met. Sage knew she hadn’t been blessed with the gift of beauty and damn did people make sure that she was aware of that fact. "What? Don't tell me you don't even have the spine to retort something, anything clever, please?" the words rolled off her tongue in a bored tone.

Deciding on being the bigger person Sage bit her tongue.

"Sticks and stones might break my bones, but words will never break me," she said lamely. Just further igniting Isabel's pleasure. She prayed that Brian would return back to the room just so that Isabel could quit her provocations and she'd be safe again.

"Who taught you how to say that? Your mummy?" She proceeded pressing all of the red trigger buttons.

"It's not my fault that you're under qualified and must take out your insecurities and anger out on me," she said in a calm tone exhaling a sigh. It was a simple non-threatening phrase, but it was just enough to send Isabel over the edge. Which was something that Sage had not intended to do-

"Underqualified?" she coughed in disbelief. "Are you implying that I'm some sort of gold-digging slag?"

The mousy woman blinked twice perplexed.

"Hey, you said it, not me," Sage raised both of her eyebrows in amusement before shaking her head and turning back to her documents.

"Well, if I were you I'd mind my own business!" Isabel snapped. "And I'd wax that horrid mustache off your horrid face. The Dalí look has been out for years," she said pleased with her petty insult.

Sage's hand insecurity reached for the edges of her lips. Isabel sniggered as the other woman glared.

For different reasons, each with their own personal agenda, both decided to take the job.

xxx First: [here] Next: 2. 

[pkmnsdarkqueen]

Drabble-So calls my heart to bad decisions. (Sinnoh)

Based on this , cause I can’t get it out of my head and I think it’d be funny to give mini versions of the crack ideas I said. Cut cause of length.

“You know as architecturally fascinating as this place is I think I like the Eterna base better.” “Wait seriously? All of the fun planning stuff that you love is here though. I mean we just read through notes in a lab about the lake guardians. That is your exact cup of tea.” “Yeah I knoooow but it was so much more dilapidated. How is this place still so clean?” “The various roombas might have something to do with it.”

Will chimed in as he stepped to the side to let another one slide by. When they talked to Cynthia she had mentioned the leader having an affinity for robots and machines which is why both Karen and Will hadn’t batted an eye at seeing a roomba in every room puttering around. 

Still Karen had expected it to be a bit more chaotic. I mean at least some wall paper starting to peel, a nick in a wall here and there, but no the place was just uncannily spotless. It made her wonder if anyone was still living there. They had encountered said issue before which had thankfully resolved itself. This time though she wasn’t so sure since as far as she knew they hadn’t met many Galactic members. 

Continuing in their exploits they both looked around the giant hall they’d entered. There wasn’t anything in the room except of course another roomba, guess they all were active this time of night, and a large podium area built into the room. As soon as they saw this Karen already knew what Will was about to say. 

“I want to get up there.” “Ok well let’s keep looking around and see if we can find stairs or another door, or-” “No way that’s lame, and these trips are for fun remember!”

Will cut her off running towards the wall starting to jump. The woman shook her head watching him miss the ledge by a long shot. Oh she already knew this wasn’t going to end well. 

“And how are you going to get up there from this room? That ledge is a whole you taller, and if you hadn’t noticed this place is stupidly minimalistic.”

She countered leaning against one of the walls to watch the show. He had moved from trying to jump it to knocking along the walls of the room. Personally she hoped he had taken her advice and was looking for a hidden stair case or something. Sure enough at one point there was a hollow thud causing both of them to perk up. Will grinned from ear to ear starting to see what objects he could manipulate. A hinge, a lock, some part of a door, and sure enough he was able to locate the spot to press on the wall. The panel cracked open with a small pop, and Will flung the door wide revealing chairs. Again practically spotless organized room with many stacks of chairs. 

“This is how.” “Oh this is going to be a bad idea.” “It is not ye of little faith! Watch me dazzle you with my genius.” “I’m going to tell Lance those were your final words before you broke your neck.”

Karen told him watching him use the dolly to position a stack by the wall. He could possibly reach now but looking at the chairs she wasn’t sure how steady taht tower would be. Sure they were your regular auditorium like chairs which was better than folding chairs, but as he said she was ye of little faith. 

“I’ll be fine, just be sure to catch me if I fall.” “No way, if I do that you’ll probably take both of us down. If you fall I’m going to say karma, and then laugh in your face.” “At least one of us will be able to laugh at my pain because I’m betting on a few broken ribs if I fail.” “How reassuring.”

Despite the shaking tower and general poor decision this was He was making progress. He always had the better sense of balance and so she watched silently as he grunted and huffed his way to the top of the stack. By the time he reached the top he had gotten the right height too, and was able to reach over to grab the lip of the wall. A few more scrambled moments and he had managed to crawl his way on to the other side giving a final kick to the chair pile which started to tip. HIs victorious pose of with two fisted hands in the air was met with the crashing applause of many chairs crashing to the floor. So much for this place being kept practically spotless. 

“You know I admire the grit that took, but question. You could of floated there Mr. Hi yeah so I’m psychic.” “I know but I want to save it in case we run into something or someone dangerous. Like what if this Cyrus guy has befriended Girintina right after getting sucked up in that world between worlds and he’s watching us right now with the weird science over there, gets mad we’re wrecking his stuff and BOOM!”

He emphasized smashing his fist on the short wall.

“Girintina and him burst through and attack us!” “I think that marathon of all the Godzilla movies followed by season one of Stargate SG1 was a bad idea.” “You’re just like killing my imagination.”

Will pouted having found a few pieces of paper to ball up one of which he threw at her. Easily it was caught by the woman who, out of curiosity started to unfold it. Huh, well this was interesting. 

“Hey Will the paper you tossed down looks like an old speech. Damn you know some of the phrases in here look familiar,’this is of upmost importance, you know the price of failure.’” “Secrecy is key, keeps your senses sharp, oooh I found the one I used to hear all the time! Don’t disappoint me.”

The elite mocked using an older deeper man voice to pull  a chuckle from Karen.

“Oh but you sure did disappoint, but not as badly as Sham and Carl did some days. We really outclassed them so soon after joining, you know they had every right to be mad at us for that.”

The woman chimed in remembering well the day they basically became the right hand men and pushing those two out of their place. Despite being both younger, and not around as long they were quite the trained soldiers. In retro-spect that was not a good thing, but in some weird way Karen still felt pride in that. 

“I’m sorry I think you mean Coral and Shoe which I remember him calling them once because he forgot their names. I fully agree that they had every right to be  mad at us. We were nothing but some dorks that showed up, I came already born with powers, you are just well, you’re yourself.” “You know normally you say that as an insult.” “And this time I mean it as a compliment because compared to those two you came in Black Widow even without training yet. Then next thing you know we’re top dogs, we manage to connect with legendary pokemon, and are given control to command them, we get trusted to guard the main plan in the end, and are openly the favorite. I don’t blame them for hating our guts as kids. To be fair we deserved that hate, and all the other hate we’ve gotten. It’s a good thing like came and kicked us in the nuts when it did because if it hadn’t I’m telling you right now we would of likely ran that branch of Rocket after Pryce up and zipped off!”

The psychic started to rant. It was always fun when he started this. It was like watching a comedy special done by a very well dressed individual, with the accompanying hand gestures and pacing. All it took was a little audience participation and he’d go on a roll. What better place for him to give a speech than here.

“Oh us run the joint, huh? Now this I want to hear.”

Karen encouraged seeing her friend grin as he straightened up. 

“Let me tell you then! Now we both know if we knew the real reason that garbage human being wanted our help, reunite a lapras with it’s family, we would of revolted!” “Revolted?” “I fucking said it! Viva la revolution, and everything because we both knew all the shit we’d gone through wasn’t worth THAT! So if you’d listened to me and backed off of Blue when ya did we would of had not one, not two, but three legendary birds, and Ho-oh and Lugia cause there is no way we’d give them back after finding out his big plan. SO we’d take those birds, we’d rally up some of the other Rocket members in the other districts who’d follow us cause we ACTUALLY would manage to have control over real legendary pokemon and played our cards right till we and our group were strong enough to take down the league.”

He stressed grabbing the edge of the concrete wall to lean in. 

“Cause when you put Karen and Will together we are such goddamn unstoppable forces not even Arceus can stop you and I.”

Karen was grinning watching him give his little motivational speech and clapped her hands shouting encore a few times to boost the dramatics of his little speech. He of course did not take this in a humble stride giving dramatic bows as if they had a large audience to entertain complete with blowing a kiss and pretending to weep. All dramatic exaggerations until one sweep of his hand and misstep seemed to be a bit too grand. Unaware there was more paper scattered on the ground his foot started to slip. HIs latest ‘thank you’ was cut short as he felt his weight go over the edge. Even grabbing it was no good as he started to tip. Karen stopped her applause once she saw this breaking into a run as she raced over to catch him. Although she too took a tumble after not seeing a chair by her feet. 

There was a crash as the chairs collided with each other again now with an added person. The one to land after skidding against the floor was Karen. Will floated above her giving a hiss knowing that had to hurt. 

“....well, now who forgot I could float.”

He muttered feeling her hand grab his ankle and yank him down. With concentration broken he fell the last half a foot. Ok maybe he deserved that.

“You know funnily enough I was about to swing the conservation to talking about how it’s a good thing we ended up where we are. Life has a way of kicking folks like us down a peg.....or in this case pride comes before fall.”

There was a long pause as Karen simply stared at him dead pan before shaking her head starting to laugh. Sure she was still bruised and so was he, but hey they might as well enjoy this laugh even if it was a stupid one. 

[kiss-my-freckle]

Dialogues

1x2 -

Red: Watch yourself with her, Donald. She hates men, and cops most of all.

1x3 -

Red: I prefer to play with myself in private.

Liz: He’s a myth. Red: That’s what they said about Deep Throat … and the G-Spot.

1x5 -

Red: She owns that nightclub. Last time I was there, we had a great deal of fun, until she tried to strangle me with her stocking.

Red: Or just bend over any available piece of furniture and let her slap you on the ass. She loves that.

Red: He knows you better than I do, and I know where that lovely little freckle is.

1x6 -

Red: Because Yuri talks faster than a cheerleader after a nooner under the grandstands. Probably not a metaphor you understand.

1x8 -

Red: Oh, my God. I’ve never been more scared of a woman in my life. She was thrilling in bed. What a pair of legs. I think she played field hockey in college.  

1x14 -

Red: I had a little talk with Rasil. We had a few laughs, compared notes about you. He told me all about that delightful thing you do with a trouser belt, which was a bit hurtful, since I was pretty sure it was our thing.

1x18 -

Vlad: You slept with my wife. Red: How is Fadila? Vlad, it was a mistake. I can easily blame it on the hashish and the grappa, but the truth is - may I speak freely? You’re better off without her. She’s fickle.

1x19 -

Red: Calculus. I can’t even think about derivatives without thinking of that tutor in manor hall. Cindy something-or-other. Never wore a brassiere. Always a bounce in her step.

1x20 -

Red: Ah. Smells like decadence and vice.

2x1 -

Red: They know your habits, the banks you use, the pills you pop, the men or women you sleep with.

Red: Lord Baltimore. Aren’t you a surprisingly saucy minx.

Samar: Aren’t we confident today? Red: I’m confident every day. Samar: And I thought we had nothing in common.

2x7 -

Red: Keep your plum covered. We’re not alone.

2x10 -

Red: Luther, I never thought I’d enjoy having anything in my mouth as much as Petty Officer Virginia Sherman, but this - My God! It tastes so good! I hesitate to swallow, and I certainly don’t want to spit it out.

2x2 -

Red: Mmm! Tastes just like Patty Sutton.

2x3 -

Red: Titillating. But what Laskin and Russo do with or to one another in their spare time is none of my concern. Red: A threesome? Interesting. Based on his sartorial splendor, I gather this is Mr. Vargas. Does that even look like real hair?

Red: You poor thing. Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. It boggles the imagination. B.B., you don’t look well. Are you alright? Let me guess: irregular heartbeat, shortness of breath, perhaps a little tingling in your nether regions? Those drinks you’ve been enjoying on the house? They weren’t from the house. They were from me. I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of adding a special surprise ingredient, something to treat any localized dysfunction you may be suffering. Has the little man been falling down on the job? It’s a miracle drug, not so much for a glutton with a bum heart, however. But look on the bright side, you’ll die with a marvelous erection.

2x11 -

Red: The other one, the watercolorist, she - legs like a shot-putter. She gets me in this headlock. I black out. Next thing I know, I wake up - no sheets, vaseline everywhere. The lipstick on the mirror overhead reads, “Same time next year?” I haven’t missed an art expo in Basel since.

Red: Ah. A Russian milonga. Watch closely, Lizzy. Everything you need to know about negotiation is there in the tango milonga. At the outset, they are opponents. Each has something the other wants. They size one another up, assessing risk, setting boundaries, challenging each other to breach them. A sensuous battle - violence and sex balanced on the blade of a knife. Nothing given that is not earned - nothing taken that is not given. This is the pure essence of negotiation. Not a poker game, but a milonga. A tango. A seduction.

Red: And I assure you my bed accommodates a broad spectrum of behavior.

2x12 -

Red: Samar, my dear, bump in the road I can help smooth over, or have the clouds finally parted and this is a social call?

2x14 -

Red: Careful there, boys. You don’t want to bruise the merchandise.

Red: Really, I’m all for being thorough, but at this point, you’re just taking the nickel tour.

Red: Oh, the Dinky. No matter the time of day, that damn train is always full of hungover frat boys and co-eds in the throes of morning-after regret.

Red: Good heavens, Earl. You’ve never had any feeling in your heart, but now it looks like there isn’t much going on below the waist. Earl: I do all right. The wheelchair is just a little memento of our time together in Bolivia. Red: No hard feelings, I trust.

2x18 -

Red: Because, Mr. Jasper, you strike me as a man who would prefer to pitch rather than catch.

2x20 -

Red: Don’t look so glum, Kenneth. You just spent 10 minutes being ridden hard by Agent Navabi. I’d die for five.

2x21 -

Red: She makes her real money consulting. Costs a fortune. She did, however, let me name a lipstick color - “Fire In The Hole.”

Kimberly: I can only tell you what they’re doing. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you who they’re doing it to.

3x7 -

Hasaan: What do you want? Red: Well, another spin of the bottle in Melanie Reichman’s basement, but, I’ll settle for you.

3x8 -

Red: When’s the last time you got any of that, Pablo? Or have you? Pablo: We share everything.

Red: No wonder Cash doesn’t trust you with anything more important than babysitting. Pablo: That’s big talk coming from a guy who’s -

3x9 -

Red: I prefer that slight curve at the small of the back, the swell of a breast, the soft nape of the neck to quicken my heartbeat.

3x21 -

Cynthia: I read his e-mails. Ever since I found him with the nanny, I look at everything. Samuel: We don’t even have a nanny! It was a movie. Red: A nanny movie? Cynthia: Not just nannies. Schoolteachers, nurses, and a ridiculous threesome with two completely unbelievable policewomen. Samuel: Cynthia, they’re just movies. I have never cheated on you. And besides, I don’t think he wants to hear about it. Red: Yes, I want to hear about it. All about it. Unfortunately, I do need to hear about your contract with Halcyon. So business first, and then, Cynthia, I’ll be all ears.

Red: I had an enlightening meeting with Samuel Rand today. More to the point, with his wife, Cynthia.

Scottie: Howard didn’t take that job. We haven’t had sex in four years. We’re rarely in the same country, let alone the same bed. Red: What bed have you been occupying? Scottie: I’ve been assuming a larger role in a management position lately. Red: You don’t say.

Red: You have it all wrong, dear. I didn’t come to kill you. I came here because you and I are about to climb into bed together, just for a quickie.

3x23 -

Red: Aram… set him up with someone, for God’s sake. He’s like a kid with his first erection on the school bus.

4x7 -

Red: My sympathies to your significant other. And if your flag is flying at half mast, rest assured, I find in the privacy of one’s boudoir, pleasing others is the key to pleasing oneself.

4x14 -

Red: Oh, my goodness. This is tedious. I’d give almost anything to have a scratch. But seeing as how, given your profession, David, you might be more inclined to squeeze them rather than scratch them, I won’t impose. I’ll just wait for the next break.

David: Forget having your testicles scratched. You’ve been castrated.

4x20 -

Red: Baldur, you and I are deal-makers. We buy low and sell high. Getting that cruise line on the cheap was better than sex with your mistress. Either of them. I’m a little down on my luck. A penny stock. Invest in me now and when I rise, you’ll be able to afford three mistresses.

4x22 -

Red: I do wonder what else Donald’s men will find in your nightstand. Are you a vibrator kind of gal, Laurel? We’ll see.

5x1 -

Car guy: How’d she do? Red: Like Bergita Olofson in her parents’ rumpus room on a Saturday night.

5x2 -

Cooper: No, he’s playing grab-ass by the pool between naps and happy hour.

5x10 -

Isaacson: Bite me. Red: Hmm. A woman after my own heart.

5x12 -

Red: Joro spiders. In Japanese folklore, the joro is said to be able to change its appearance to that of a beautiful woman who seduces men, binding them in her web before devouring them. Hence its name “joro-gumo,” or “whore spider.”

5x13 -

Red: Imagine the confidence a man has to have in his own genitals to take on a nickname like “Big Willie.”

5x15 -

Red: Yes. Very impressive. What a gymnasium - a real shrine to athleticism. I can just feel the testosterone.

Fagen: You promised me a sure thing, gives me Viagra, and all I have to show for it is a four-hour erection.

[deleted scene]

Smokey: You’re a sucker, Red.  Everyone thinks you’re soooo tough with the hat and the shades and the people you kill but I know better.  Circus folk know a sucker when we see one.  You’re a sucker.  You’re a sucker for the pets, you’re a sucker for Heddie. And God knows why, you’re even a sucker for me. Red: I suppose I am.   Smokey: Well, that’s good for me. I’ll follow you anywhere. Red: Well, let's start in the back. I believe we have some cash to count.

5x19 -

Red: This apartment. Right here. Oh. My God. To have been the proverbial fly on Clyde Tolson’s duvet. Liz: Clyde Tolson lived here? J. Edgar Hoover’s lover? Red: This was their secret hideaway. Imagine the conversations. Cooing over JFK’s lovers. Slandering Dr. King. What peignoir to wear to bed. When I saw the apartment was for sale, I couldn’t resist. Liz: You own the apartment where the homophobic head of the FBI carried on his affair with his boyfriend? Red: Allegedly. I wouldn’t admit this in mixed company, but J. Edgar and I have a surprising amount in common. For instance, we both always get our man.

5x21 -

Red: I’ve heard steroids make your penis shrink. Have you found that to be the case?

Liz: Gonzalez called you. Red: His guard, actually. We developed something of a bond.

6x2 -

Red: Through five marriages, numerous lovers, allegedly both male and female.

Red: Cary Grant once said after a particularly evocative LSD trip, “I imagined myself as a giant penis launching off from Earth - “like a spaceship.”

6x4 -

Red: Baldomero, what do you say we call this whole thing off? What happened in Iztapalapa was a terrible mistake. I regret it dearly, and I had no idea she was your mother. Baldomero: You were in my bed. There was a picture of me on the nightstand. Red: Okay, in our defense, it was incredibly dark, and we’d been drinking heavily. Honestly, I regret the entire weekend. Of course, don’t tell your mother that.

[artificialqueens]

But I’m A Cheerleader! - Chapter 25 (Aja x Farrah) - Millie

A/N: hey guys, I don’t want to be depressing, but I’m gonna be depressing. I absolutely love this fic with all my heart, and I love seeing everyone’s happy reactions, but lately it’s been getting hard to write so that’s why updates have been a bit all over the place. I feel like I need to take a step back and relax a little so there won’t be updates every week, probably just every 2 maybe 3 weeks; I’d rather give you guys a good quality chapter that took a while than the ones I’ve been doing lately that feel like I’m just churning it out like a robot. Another factor of that is that school has me stressed, and I’m going through some personal stuff. I hope you can all understand and I hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Farrah stormed into the changing rooms where everyone else was, stomping into the Bombers’ side to see everyone huddled together discussing what had just happened. Her presence stopped the conversation, and once she’d spotted Valentina, Farrah didn’t hesitate in cornering her.

“You did this!” Farrah snarled, pointing an accusing finger at her face once she was backed against the wall. It was hard to be intimidating when you were 5'3", crying, and in a cheerleading uniform, so Farrah had to resort to volume. “You sent that video to everyone in the goddamn school. And you made up that rumour, too!” It dawned on her that she’d have to apologise to Aja for blaming that on her, but her intense rage pushed that to the back of her mind.

Valentina had fear in her eyes, but that didn’t stop her from biting back. “So what if I did?” she snapped. “Aja is a Glamazon, and-” At this point, the Glamazons had walked into their side of the changing room to see what the commotion was. They always loved a fight, especially one they could get behind.

“Oh, don’t start,” Trinity said from the right adjacent wall. “No one cares! We’re friends with the Glamazons now, and whatever you were about to call Aja, you’re probably that yourself.”

Valentina’s eyes widened at her. “Excuse-”

“You were supposed to be my friend,” Farrah added. “You were supposed to support me.”

“I didn’t have to. I didn’t have to like Aja. And neither did you, you little traitor.”

Farrah could feel the steam rising out of her ears. “Maybe I am a traitor,” she growled. “But at least I’m not a bitchy. Little. Freshman.” She jabbed her in the chest with her pointer finger between each word.

“Oh, whatever,” Val said. “Yes, I filmed that video; yes, I made up that rumour. Who cares?”

“Err, a lot of people,” Farrah replied, “including me and Aja. And I’ve gone and accused her of backstabbing our team, which could’ve completely ruined everything between us.” Valentina bit her lip and smirked. “But that’s exactly what you wanted.”

Farrah scowled at her and shoved her into the wall before storming out of the changing rooms, walking straight past Miss Visage and Cynthia who were headed back to the hall. She walked out of the front doors of the school, the sky just as light as before but the air chillier; these were the moments where she resented her skimpy cheerleader uniform. She sat down on one of the benches and put her head in her hands, scrunching up fistfuls of hair.

She sat like that for a while, quickly beginning to shiver, but she was too stubborn to go back inside. In this moment, Farrah just wanted to be alone, and for someone so needy, that was a bad thing. She couldn’t stay in the changing rooms with that horrid freshman and everyone else staring at her - it would be far too awkward, and it was probably a lucky escape after she’d pushed Val. But then again, she didn’t want to go back to Aja, either. In fact, she didn’t really know where they stood right now. The guilt of that accusation was eating her up, and it was clear that Aja was furious about it. Farrah was worried about her, too - who knew what the extent of her injuries could be? Knowing Valentina, she was probably the one responsible for throwing her that hard.

About ten minutes later, an ambulance pulled up on the school grounds, and several paramedics hopped out with medical kits. One of them approached Farrah, probably noticing her distress.

“Excuse me, did you witness the accident?” he asked, bending down slightly so he was at her level.

Farrah looked up and nodded. “I can show you to it,” she said, pushing herself up off the bench and walking back towards the front doors of her school. The paramedics picked up the pace and started to jog, probably not knowing how good or bad the situation was, so Farrah joined them.

Upon entering the hall again, Farrah saw Aja in the same position as before, and she couldn’t stop a couple of tears from slipping out. She knew to keep her distance while Aja was being assessed, so she didn’t go too close to her. And she didn’t want to overstep a line, considering how things were. Sure, she’d let her stroke her hair and hug her, but she was probably in intense pain as the paramedics were trying to prop her up - it hurt Farrah just to look at it.

It was more painful to just sit and watch all of this happen. None of the cheerleaders had any notable medical knowledge to ease the tension, so Farrah was just stuck trying to read expressions that had been trained over the years to be, well, unreadable. At least fifteen minutes passed slowly and quietly with only the voices of the paramedics to fill the silence, each one more uncomfortable than the previous.

“It looks like there’s bruising on the coccyx and shoulder blades, and a little on the spine,” one of them concluded. “And it’s starting to swell. You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head.”

“Will I be able to do cheerleading, still?” Aja asked.

“You need to have some bedrest, miss. The damage isn’t serious, but physical exercise could lead to it getting worse.”

Aja put her head in her hands. If she were alone, or only with Farrah, she’d be uncontrollably crying right now.

-

Alexis supported Aja as they walked out of the school towards the ambulance. The paramedics had offered her a ride back home, but Aja wasn’t stupid, and knew the costs of just a single trip. All they had to do was make sure she could walk (hence what they were doing now) and then her mom would pick her up. Farrah trailed behind them, following them until they reached the bench she was sitting on earlier.

“Aja, can I talk to you for a second?” Farrah asked.

Aja looked over at Alexis, who just raised her eyebrow at Farrah.

“Alone.”

“Sure,” Aja said.

Alexis got up, giving the blonde a look that said you better not fuck around and walked away to leave them in peace.

Farrah sat down in her place; Aja looked straight ahead, her jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” Farrah said. “Valentina admitted that she started the rumour; I don’t know why I didn’t believe you in the first place.”

Aja clenched her fists. “I’m still angry,” she said. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do, I swear. I just… I didn’t know whether or not you’d just turn on me and the team like that.”

She whipped her head around to face her, even though that hurt her neck. “I’d never betray you like that, Farrah!” she exclaimed. “They’re my friends now, and I’m your girlfriend, for fuck’s sake!”

“I’m sorry! God, I know it was stupid.”

Aja huffed and crossed her arms. “Yeah, it was.” She faced forward again. “But thanks for apologising, I guess.”

Farrah was silent. This was what she got for apologising? Of course she understood Aja’s anger, but it hurt her. She’d never cared about anyone more than she cared about the girl sitting next to her on that bench. A tear fell and dripped down her cheek, but she wiped it away quickly.

That made Aja’s heart ache - it did every time.

“As much as I want to stay annoyed at you, I can’t,” she gave in.

Farrah looked up with hopeful eyes. “You forgive me?” she asked.

Aja shrugged. “Sure, whatever,” she said. “Look, it made me angry, but I’ll get over it.” She pulled Farrah into a hug, and she desperately held her close.

[aamoreena]

Mental health head cannons for Connor from DEH?

OH BOY DON’t EVen GET ME STARTEd

So okay I have this HC that Connor didn’t actually die and the whole musical takes place while he’s in the hospital after his suicide attempt

So like when he was really young, he had bad temper tantrums and his parents kind of assumed that it was just him trying to get attention (and a lot of the time it was)

And Zoe got most of the attention because she is so talented (but I won’t go into zoe rn because i have a Lot of feelings on her)

So anyway Connor is kind of neglected in the family department, starting from the time he was like two or three right and his tantrums start as little stuff like kicking and crying and then escalate as he gets older

But then one day it’s not for attention any more and he’s just really sad and he feels so. Alone. and he doesn’t know what to do so he just starts taking it out on his family

This is when Zoe really starts resenting him, because he’s being really horrible to her and she just doesn’t get it

And Connor becomes the monster people keep telling him he is.

So like. He starts smoking pot in freshman year because at this point, why not? He’s already been lower than low and he knows that there’s nothing in the world that could make him feel better.

And then he starts going to parties with the “”wrong”” crowd

and his drug problem just develops further, which completely destroys his freshman and sophomore years

In the summer between Sophomore and Junior year, Connor is rushed to the hospital because Zoe found him on the floor of his bedroom passed out in a puddle of his own vomit.

He wakes up with her head in his lap and he’s in a hospital bed and how the hell did that happen? He doesn’t remember anything from the night before. So he kind of shuts down, you know? Zoe is dead asleep so he can’t really move and he feels so horrible.

This is when he realizes that he really, really fucked up.

So he stops going to parties, and he stops doing drugs, but now this pervasive loneliness is back and he doesn’t know how to handle it except to get angry, right?

So he gets angry. And he rages for days on end sometimes, and threatens to kill Zoe, and threatens to kill himself, but nobody ever really took him seriously. 

His parents just thought he was asking for attention again. Zoe just thought he hated her. Everyone at school though he was a psycho.

In the middle of junior year, he has to visit the counselor’s office because somebody told him he’d slit his wrists over the bathroom sink, which wasn’t true, but he had to go to the counselor’s anyway and he just

Didn’t know what to do

and he sat there and cried with his head in his hands and his counselor made tea for him to calm down because what the fuck, you know, Connor Murphy doesn’t cry.

but he does. a lot.

connor murphy cries a lot

and he feels so empty, like a snake skin or something, like the charred out pit of the kid he used to be

so he tells his counselor everything, after drinking his tea and wiping his face and storming out of the room. he comes back and tells her.

she writes a letter home, telling his parents that she believes he could really benefit from seeing a therapist and getting mood stabilizers

but. fucking larry, right? fucking larry throws it away and tells cynthia not to worry about it because it’s just connor being dramatic. it’s just connor trying to get attention. it’s just connor. 

so a while later, maybe like a few months, connor asks his mom if he can see a therapist and it took him so long to work up the courage to ask her. and she wants to let him but she knows Fucking Larry would want to talk to connor about it, too, and Fucking Larry does. and ends up talking connor out of it.

tells connor to man up. tells connor that it’s just hormones. tells connor he’ll grow out of it, that he read more kids kill themselves after starting therapy

and connor doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything. he sort of believes that his dad is right, you know? even if it is just Fucking Larry, he still has useful insight sometimes. 

he still loves Zoe, even if he never tells her. he still notices things, and he still feels better when she smiles at him, and he really thinks the blue streaks in her hair are cool.

but he goes through life feeling like a bombshell, and not in the sexy way. so he starts smoking pot again, which just makes him paranoid and sketchy. so sometimes he quits. it ends up becoming an endless cycle of shitty days and out of his mind nights. and he feels like he’s disappearing. 

flickering out. someone could blow him away. and. and fading. he doesn’t really know how to flicker and fade at the same time, but that’s what he’s doing, he knows it. 

Fucking Larry thinks that his suicide attempt was another temper tantrum.

and connor kind of starts believing it was too. and then evan.

evan, stupid evan hansen who writes creepy letters about Zoe, shows up at the hospital

and he has another letter with him

(connor’s parents still think that connor wrote his suicide note to evan, btw) 

and connor doesn’t really (can’t really) say anything, because (his throat is all bruised up and his voice really only comes out as a squeak) BECAUSE he can’t think of anything to say that isn’t dumb. so evan leaves the letter with him. and the next day brings a pad of paper with him.

and evan keeps visiting, and his parents fall a little bit in love with him and connor is kind of jealous, you know, because his parents love evan more than they love connor which is fucked up

but heidi comes with evan one day and sits down and writes back and forth with connor and doesn’t treat him like he’s fragile or flammable

and it just becomes normal for evan to visit connor in the hospital and even though they don’t know each other, pretending to be friends is so good that connor almost wishes it wasn’t pretend. heidi visits him with evan on thursdays and saturdays. 

when connor is released from the hospital, he expects his life to go back to normal. he’ll keep smoking pot, evan will stop talking (writing) to him, and everything will pick up right where it left off. but it doesn’t.

evan waits for him by his locker on the first day back and jared kleinman is there too which is absolutely crazy because. jared kleinman, really? the jared kleinman, the one who made school shooter jokes about connor kind of constantly? but he’s cool to connor so connor is cool to him.

there’s a new whiteboard in his locker and he can tell it’s from zoe because there are stars all around the edges and in the center she wrote “you are not the monster that i knew” and he cries for probably twenty minutes and when he goes home that day he uses the whiteboard to tell her how sorry he is, how much he loves her, how much he misses her, even when they’re standing in the same room because she feels unreachable

and she hugs him and cries too

and from that day forward she fights with Fucking Larry until he agrees to take connor’s pain seriously

he uses the whiteboard until he feels comfortable using his voice to speak, but evan buys double sided tape and sticks the whiteboard to his bedroom door one day when he comes over after school (because he does that now, and sometimes jared comes too and they talk and zoe plays guitar and kisses alana beck a lot because apparently that happened while connor was in the hospital)

and evan writes (in permanent marker) on the whiteboard “dear connor murphy, today is going to be a good day and here’s why:…” and everyone in their friend group has a marker and a message for connor and every day there’s something new

and connor slips up sometimes. sometimes he yells. sometimes he wants to die so badly that he drives all the way out to the apple orchard and climbs the tallest tree he can find and thinks about jumping until his legs shake and ache to do it

so evan tells him what really happened to his arm, and has a panic attack, which connor had never seen him do before, and he learns that day how to coax evan back into breathing, and how to squeeze evan’s hand just tight enough, and how to hold evan until the shaking passes

and he falls a little bit in love, he thinks

one night, he goes to a bonfire with the Ga(y)ng. 

they’re all at jared’s house

and jared has a pool

and connor hasn’t been swimming in years

so he jumps in with evan and evan comes up for air a little too close to connor and they bump their foreheads together which hurts but almost in a good way

they breathe each other’s air and laugh and laugh until connor starts to feel stupid empty again and has to get out of the pool because he’s afraid he’ll drown himself and he sits by zoe and she Knows Something Is Up so she puts her head on his shoulder and squeezes his hand and that’s enough to keep him from dying right then

they spend the night at jared’s house

when Connor wakes up in the morning, evan is still asleep next to him and he just looks so peaceful, so comfortable

and boy does connor have some heart palpitations right then

he realizes that maybe he has a Big Gay Crush on evan which is just super weird and he gets really freaked out and kind of throws up a little bit at seven in the morning because he’s???? in love????

evan wakes up and smiles at him and connor hates himself because evan doesn’t even know what that smile does to him and he feels so guilty for feeling the way he does

but evan catches on pretty quickly that something is wrong and asks connor and it’s just like that time in the counselor’s office when he cried forever and ended up spilling everything 

and evan just says “oh,” when connor is done and kind of hugs him afterwards which is really horrible and awkward because connor is hiccuping into his shoulder but evan grips him so hard that it presses the hiccups right out of him so he can breathe right again

and evan pulls Connor’s forehead down to his and he’s got his hands at the back of connor’s neck, in a really gentle way, and their noses bump and connor loses it.

it’s really sloppy and gross and kind of uncomfortable, but they kiss and kiss and kiss until jared interrupts them

and they definitely don’t fix each other, but their lives are a lot easier together than they ever were apart.