#turns out it was for more than just nerds... although i am also technically a nerd on tumblr... hehehe

[kalied0skull]

I 🫶 U and your art

and i heart you and your asks, anon! :D

[yelenabelovasbxtch]

Crush On An Archer PT. 2

A/N: Can you believe I actually managed to get out another part in a timely matter without making you wait 5 months in between? I think we're getting to the good part soon so stay tuned.

Kate Bishop X f!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Not proofread

The next few days went by fast, you had a couple more practices but didn’t see Kate again and you flew home without even getting to say goodbye. 

As soon as your plane landed and you turned off airplane mode, your text notifications binged with Kate’s name on your screen. 

“Hey Y/L/N, want to grab a drink tonight?” *Sent 2 hours ago*

“Hey Kate, sorry I didn’t respond sooner, my plane just landed and I’m back in Mississippi now :( I would have loved to though.”

“Damn, didn’t even say goodbye?”

Did she want you to say goodbye? Were you at that level of friendship? 

“Yeah, sorry, I had an early flight out this morning.”

“Damn, oh well…all my friends left too so I’m going back to being bored as fuck again. This summer honestly blows.”

“Yeah, I hear that. Trust me, I would much rather be there, than here.”

“How come you didn’t want to stick around a little longer? The semester does start in like only two weeks.”

“I’m not technically “paying” my rent over the summer so I can’t really stay there or else I’d have to put out the money to my landlord and also pay all the other bills that come with it.”

“Ah yeah that makes sense. Too bad you couldn't have stuck around though.”

“Yeah I agree, I am very bored here.” 

The two of you continued to talk every day, your friendship grew over text and Snapchat, pretty much the only way it could at this point. You are pretty notorious for sleeping in and every morning you wake up to see Kate’s text message and Snapchat notification pop up on your phone. You get your daily dose of Kate and get to see her beautiful face everyday whenever she’d respond to your snaps or post her BeReals when they went off. They always made you smile, sometimes they made you feel a little more than just a smile… but every morning without fail it was usually a Snap of her in bed and fuck did she look hot. Like who wakes up just naturally looking that good? You could swear it looked like she was “trying or posing” a little in the pics she sent to you but also you wouldn’t put it past her for just looking that good anytime her photo was taken. Honestly, there were some times where she would text you for an hour straight and the two of you would have the most amazing conversations but then other times where she would be MIA for most of the day and you feel like maybe you said the wrong thing. You noticed that she would always come back though. You learned to realize that it was just your anxiety speaking loudly when she didn’t respond and she couldn’t hate you, she barely even knew you. She just was busy and didn’t respond for that moment. Or maybe she was having a hard day but she always ended up coming back and talking to you about it. 

You were excited but also really terrified about moving back to school. You and Kate had learned what each other's interests were and talked a lot about certain things you wanted to do together when you moved back. You discussed everything, going to the movies, cooking together, practicing together and you managed to convince her to try building LEGO with you. 

I mean, who doesn’t like LEGO?

The text messages between the two of you were often pretty friendly but from time to time she teased you, loved to call you a nerd for all your interests like Star Wars and Harry Potter but you knew she secretly liked them too. 

Although she seemed like she was flirting, there were times where she’d talk about guys who were hitting on her and her ex-boyfriends and it just made you feel like there was no chance in hell she would ever be into you. Based on her track record alone, you weren’t exactly her type. Mainly just because everyone she has ever mentioned is a man. Obviously, you can’t read a person off of just that information because you never know. But, it didn’t exactly feel like it was going your way. Anytime she would do or say something that maybe led you to believe she had feelings for you it was almost immediately squashed by another comment or story about a guy.

“So what are you up to today?”

“Not much, probably going to go practice my shot a bit.”

“I feel like all you ever do is practice”

“Well yeah, best archer in the world title has to be honored ;)” 

“Haha. I am almost 100% certain the only person who calls you that, is you.”

“Not trueee”

“Your mom doesn’t count…” “Or your dog.”

“Well. I am sure someone else has said it. Besides, practice isn’t allll I do. I’m going to the gym after. Probably hitting arms and a bit of chest today.”

“Okay Bishop, I see you, I didn’t know you took lifting seriously and stuff.”

“Well obviously, gotta make sure I’m in better shape than all the other archers. Especially when you are on the senior team next year.”

“Worried you’re going to be beat out for world's best archer or something?”

“Haha. Very funny. I don’t think I have anything to worry about ;)”

Your conversations were often short like that one but something else always ended up coming up later on. About an hour and a half later your phone bings with a text message from Kate. 

*Attachment: 1 Image*

Fuck you mumble under your breath. 

She doesn’t do it often, but sometimes she’ll send you a picture of herself over imessage where there isn’t a 10 second expiry like on Snap and every time she does it makes you smile. It feels like this one was taken specifically for you. She wanted you to see this now and she wanted you to remember what this photo looked like. Kate always works out in sports bras, making you think about how you’d kill to get in the gym with her just to see what would happen between the two of you in the locker room afterwards. You have been staring at this picture for way too long, it’s time to respond. How do you even answer a text like that? A compliment? No, she might think you’re into her and take it the wrong way. Flirty banter? As long as it’s dialed back I'm sure it’ll be fine. 

“I think I can see a little bit of muscle there on your arms.”

“Oh shut up, you love it and we both know it.”

W-What? Fuck. 

“Yeah you wish Bishop.” Good response. Friendly banter right? 

She didn’t respond to that last text, you just assumed she went on with her workout. About an hour later you get a snap notification across your screen from her. You may have waited a couple minutes to open it just to not make it seem obvious that you were practically waiting for her name to pop up. 

You opened the snap and your jaw practically had to be picked up off the floor. 

Sweaty Kate, hovering over her phone for the pic, in a sports bra, sex eyes, thin silver chain dangling. 

Fuck. You wanted this picture seared into your brain. The one you received over text was hot but this one was even hotter. It was sexy, it was all you wanted and more and fuck did you want to tell her that. 

One thing you noticed while staring at this photo is how long you got to look at how hot she was. She changed her settings for the picture to be set to infinity from 10 seconds. She wanted you to know how hot she looked and she wanted you to take your time admiring her. The only acceptable response back had to be a picture of you acting nonchalant about what you just saw. The last thing you wanted to do was make her think you were ogling over her. 

Later that night you were laying in bed scrolling TikTok when her contact popped up at the top of your screen. 

“Men are so fucking shit sometimes.”

“What happened?” 

Yeah…you will always be an outlet for her even if it’s the worst friend zone of friend zones you’ve ever been stuck in. 

“Nothing. Just stupid boys making shit comments.”

“Do I need to knock some heads?”

“Haha I wish. But no, I just can’t deal with my ex and his friends. They’re all privileged assholes anyways.”

“Yuck hate a privileged asshole.”

“Yeah, I met him through this stupid rich people dinner event my mom made me go to awhile ago and I should have known that he wasn’t any different and just as snobby as the rest of them.”

Doesn’t really sound like the ex is much competition if that’s the case. 

“Yeah I can imagine that wouldn’t make the best partner. It’s good he at least isn’t a part of your life anymore right?”

“Yes going forward he won’t be. I told him there will be no contact between us again. It just really fucking sucks you know? He was this amazing really sweet guy who I grew to care for and love deeply and then out of nowhere it was like a switch flipped. And the toughest part is that sometimes I feel like I still care for him but then I remember what he’s actually like.”

If she still has feelings this is not good.

“I get it, breakups of course are tough and you just need to take your time to really get back to being you and no longer thinking about this guy.”

“Well said Y/L/N. Enough about me and my issues though. What about you? You got your eye on anyone or with anyone?”

Ah. Fuck it. It’s late, let’s have a little fun. 

“Uhh yeah I guess there’s one person but it’ll prob never work out so I gotta move on.”

“Ouuuu omg okay who are they, do they go to our school?”

“Yes and I will not be disclosing that information because I really do not need it getting out haha”

“Boooo, c'mon you can trust me.”

“Oh my god is it because it’s someone I know?”

“Maybe.”

“How well do I know them?”

“Hmmmm I’d say pretty well but I’m not going to tell you who it is so I wouldn’t bother guessing.”

“Boring. I’ll get it out of you when we move back to school.”

“Haha sure you will.”

“Speaking of, there’s this bar down the street from where my place is, my friends told me the team and a few others are going out on the Friday before the new semester starts. Are you going to be back by then?”

“Yeah, I should be. If not, I can always try to change my flight to come in a little earlier.”

“Yeah I think you should. It sounds like fun.”

“I just checked and my flight lands at JFK later in the day on Thursday so once I find a ride to campus I’ll be there probably late Thursday night.”

“Oh you’re flying in and out of JFK? I can give you a ride if you want. I’ve been staying at my apartment in the city for the summer so I can pick you up on my way to campus and save you a few bucks on transportation.” “That’s really nice but you don’t have to do that.”

“Y/n, I insist, it’s no big deal.”

“Okay well thank you, let me at least pay you some money for gas.”

“Don’t sweat it. If you really want to repay me you can help eye my shot next week. I’ve been having some issues with my arrows going a little left and can’t figure out why.”

“Wow, is the best archer in the world asking me for archery advice?”

“Ha. ha.”

“Hehe sorry you know I couldn’t resist.

The next week or so went by unbelievably slowly. The contact between you and Kate was still there but not as much and the fact that she was picking you up from the airport had your mind spinning in circles. You were so unbelievably nervous to see her and be with her, just the two of you again…sober this time. The tension that was created the last time you two were alone felt like it was tearing through you. Everyone knows that things are a little more awkward when you’re sober though. You don’t feel as invincible as when you’re drunk. Whenever you drink, you feel like you have the guts to say whatever you want to. Who knows, maybe the Friday night plans will grow into something more, maybe they won’t. 

The morning of your flight you wake up to a message from Kate,

“Hey y/n! Text me when you land and tell me which terminal to pull up to today. Have a safe flight <3, I’m looking forward to seeing you”

The second half of that message gave you butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to be there now, in her arms. Oh god, are you guys at the point in your friendship where you hug when you see each other?

I guess we’ll see. 

– End of PT. 2 –

Taglist: @yelenaslyubov @youreatotalposer @jeyramarie @flosbelova @bridgecitybrad @justthis-stuff @chloe7076 @ailenepuff @ravenclawbitch426 @mellowladyangel @amcg0605-blog @kassies-take @yelenaswife1996 @wandanatchick @lilroachsworld @inluvwithfictionalwomen @x666hours @natashaswife4125 @onetruwhore @karmasgxrl @hopelesslyfallenninlove @setsuna1415 @swiftdazer @imobsessedwithmilfss @madamevirgo @louisprettybab @splatalia-jumpanova @jediluka @t00manyfand0ms @oohlala666 @kates-abs-slay @scmg11

[canmom]

animes 2023

i didn't watch a ton of seasonals but i watched more than usual so... looking back? very somewhat brief comments! obviously inspired by @kbnet doing the same.

Tengoku Daimakyou

fave anime this year was probably Tengoku Daimakyou. easily the one that stood out the most from an animation perspective, the wonky brain transplant gender thing was a lot of fun, and for better or worse i seem to have now trained a pretty high tolerance for an impactful but questionably necessary sexual assault subplot in the finale.

I kinda get it, it'd been telegraphing a fascination with what makes gender, with power and exploitation, and in general the difficult experience of sexuality from pretty early on. there's a lot of ways that Robin could turn out to have clay feet when we meet him. they went for about the nastiest possible; that episode becomes a bit of a rape-revenge plot. the real question will be how they handle the aftermath.

and honestly? I am really looking forward to where it goes. I'm intrigued by what will happen to the psychic kids, I'm enjoying the main pair's meandering journey. it can deliver an impactful episode plot that hits hard, but it also definitely feels like it has narrative momentum towards something.

technically it stayed insanely strong throughout: the characters are distinctive and expressive, the animation is super lively, the backgrounds gorgeous. love to see Production I.G. firing on all cylinders like this.

Oshi no Ko

Oshi no Ko from the same season was also very solid, like it definitely dangles a pretty wacky premise, but it turns into this very earnest thing about acting and the many tensions and violences of the entertainment industry. Since watching that I've read all the manga that's available in scanlation, and it's a pretty direct beat for beat adaptation, but it's interesting how pacing that felt kinda laboured in the anime felt a lot snappier in the manga.

Probably the most interesting challenge for the animators was how to take a story that really hinges on the question of what makes for good and bad acting and make it convincing in animation. In the end, they still rely a lot on framing and symbolic elements like the star eyes to get it across, but there's still some really key moments where the animated acting shines.

I was curious enough to start reading Kaguya-sama: Love Is War by the same author and it didn't do a lot. I wanna check out the anime though bc it seems to be really highly respected.

16-Bit Sensation: Another Layer

16Bit Sensation has a lot of endearing aspects. The mc is endearing for her big himejoshi energy even if they're blatantly angling to push her together with the guy. The wilder turns taken at the end are fun (a lot to be dug into with the 'what if moe evolved in the states' thing) although it kind of quickly falls into a pretty conventional hero-villain save the day thing. I liked the yuri-lite subplot with the girl who the protag helps to buy some eroge who then becomes a gamedev herself. The concept can be read as a fascinating kind of CCRU thing with the concept of moe reaching back in time to create itself. That could be fun if you delved into it more.

If there's one thing it's kind of lacking it's like... any actual details on PC98 game dev, which mostly happens in offscreen montages. I was watching it with a friend who's a real big nerd for old computers so it was fun to share that with her, but ultimately the most it has to say about the actual games is that the girls are cute (one of them says uguu) and also dithering is a thing. The finale involves this escalating gag about strapping PC98s together in parallel to make increasingly unlikely compute stacks, which is fun but also it's kind of just using the PC98 as a symbol at that point as you get further and further from the actual capabilities of the machine.

What is that symbol? There's an odd kind of quiet nationalism in it. The significance of the PC98 is that it was the last successful home computer to be made domestically in Japan; likewise the stakes of the finale are the culture of Akihabara as an otaku space, with the alternative being gentrified blocks of flats and American cultural domination. I haven't had a chance to see the finale yet so I'm wondering how they're gonna resolve it. I feel you could do a lot more with the ideas they raise in this alternate timeline, but it's playing pretty loose at this point with a very protagonist centric story, so it can't really get into them.

Trigun Stampede

Can't say too much about this one because I only saw half and I was watching it unsubbed for immersion practice, and it was a bit beyond my level. It's interesting from a character design trends perspective. Orange are undoubtedly the kings of 3DCG anime, but I didn't like the lighting style here as much as I did Houseki. Need to watch this again at some point subbed.

NieR Automata ver 1.1a

Hard to know what to say here. This was one of several big production collapses of 2023 - a two cour anime that went on a long hiatus before finishing even one. I kind of fell off at that point, so I still need to finish it.

I went in with a sense of trepidation. I didn't like what I'd seen of the designs and photography, and the first episode seemed to confirm my worst fears, with some incredibly shoddy CGI and weak action. Thankfully, the later episodes all improve on matters a great deal.

This would be a terrible substitute for the game, but as a companion piece, it's pretty cool - it jumps between the main beats and fleshes out some of the side characters, or focuses on some odd poignant little stories. I was honestly surprised how many notes it could hit. Of course, Keiichi Okabe's music does a lot of heavy lifting - the animation is sometimes strong (if a bit melty) but I don't love the designs and photography style in general. Still this anime grew on me a lot and I do mean to finish it - it's NieR after all, practically a religious obligation at this point.

Attack on Titan: The Final Season: The Final Chapters: Part 1: Dream Drop Distance

lol

So like a year ago I watched through Attack on Titan with mogs, came to a somewhat questionable redemptive reading of it as not being the fashiest anime ever but charting a rather muddled break from a nationalist worldview into more of a Gundam type story of enemies putting aside their differences, the futility of military sacrifice, etc etc. (we later watched Tanya the Evil, continually waiting for the other shoe to drop with it being straight up a nazi propaganda power fantasy - it never did, that anime is straight up irredeemable lmao). anyway I said at the time that the finale would confirm or deny my interpretation of what it's about, determined by the question of how it addresses Eren's ideological turn. I think I was maybe out waaaaay on a limb with all this shit lmao. ngl mostly I watched this cartoon because the story is so deranged and I want to see for myself what insane turns the guy will pull next.

Anyway MAPPA spent a lot of animators on this, bc they're MAPPA, so it naturally had some very impressive scenes. Any sort of thematic resolution was still deferred and I'm 99% sure it's gonna be some sort of pathetic copout... oh apparently they released the finale like two months ago lmao, guess I'll finally get to find out. What a weird franchise to have driven the 2010s anime boom honestly.

Magical Destroyers

I really wanted to like this one more than I did. A lot of anime these days feels very sanded down and predictable, and whatever it is, Magical Destroyers definitely isn't that. It has a great OP that writes a lot of cheques that the show itself sadly isn't really up to paying...

...and there's a lot that's interestingly odd about it; it's got this cheerfully enthusiastic attitude towards explicit sexuality, it's got a very online weeb sense of humour, it honestly kind of feels like of if the people who do 'Otaku Vs.' on youtube got to make a series.

Anyway at some point I saw a 20 minute summary of the rest:

The explanation behind all this turns out to be: the creator is a 24 year old Japanese-American guy who's spent half his life in California, skating and drawing for clothing brands and DJing and stuff like that after he didn't make it as a mangaka at first, and somehow his connections turned into an anime deal. Ostensibly Undertale was an inspiration although it's not entirely clear how. The result is something incredibly disjointed that doesn't go anywhere, with incomprehensible meta turns and barely existent characterisation, but it certainly stands as something different.

Zom100

I watched this because Sakugablog covered it. It's very nicely animated for sure, with great use of saturated colour, but I dropped it after three or four episodes because I couldn't connect to the power fantasy, the only girl was way too overdetermined by being the obvious love interest, and it really didn't seem to be going anywhere. Also the flight attendant episode just felt mean-spirited, especially how little impact it seems to leave on our protagonists. I get that the whole point is the MC's sunny attitude being completely at odds with the apocalyptic setting, but I ended up finding him grating.

There's also some unfortunate irony in the fact that after the pointed jabs at the animators' former studio OLM in the first ep, they apparently ended up crunching pretty hard by the end.

and...

Damn is that really all I watched this year? Still haven't seen a few much-hyped ones like the Scott Pilgrim anime or Frieren. I guess mostly I watch stuff through Animation Night still...

As far as movies: Boy and the Heron/How Do You Live only just came out in the UK, gonna see it in a week. Haven't seen Suzume yet, or the whiskey one, or The Concierge. I wrote my comments on Kaina of the Great Snow Sea (disappointing), Tunnel to Summer: The Exit of Goodbyes (decent summer movie), Lonely Castle in the Mirror (solid and affecting) and The First Slam Dunk (actually incredible, made me understand sports) during Annecy - technically most of those came out last year anyway lol. Apparently there's a new Psycho-Pass movie too! When Psycho-Pass is good it's great, so I'll give that a shot.

Outside of anime - been meaning to check out some TV donghua like Link Click; also very excited to dig into Scavenger's Reign. I'll certainly report back when I do.

Animation Night's kinda fallen apart in the last few months - it would happen sooner or later, the project has kinda run its course and achieved "social connection" and "speedrunning an education in animation history" lol. but I'm glad I've kept it going as long as I have. I'm gonna try and bring it back in the new year, it would be nice to reach that big 200 before I wrap it up for good.

Thanks for reading my blog, nerds!! Let's see if I can make 2024 the year I go from just talking about animation to making my own short films.

[eastcoastelliott]

The story of my 18th Summer with just me and my Brother at the lake. I hope you enjoy.

Me and my BIG Brother CHAPTER One

When I remember my childhood, I fondly remember my family's lakehouse. That old house holds so many memories. My brother and I spent Summer after Summer in the crystal clear waters, diving off the pier, riding jet skis, and lounging away on the hot days. It was a terrific childhood, but the year I turned 18 stands out as the most significant year for me, my brother, and that old house.

I am getting ahead of myself. Let me give you a bit of history about the two brothers named Kyle and Kameron. Our parents were married one year after I was born. My biological father was a jerk and left when Mom got pregnant. She married my Dad when I was about 18 months old. Mom and Dad were in their 30s, so they only dated briefly. Dad's first wife (Kyles's Mom) had died shortly after Kyle was born. Dad wrote my Mom an insurance policy 10 months after her death, and they've been in love since.

Mom has always said, "When you know, you know, and we knew." Technically, Kyle and I were stepbrothers, but we only knew each other as 100% brothers. Even Grandmama said, "The Lord sent your Mama to your Daddy; they needed each other."

We grew up in the 90s. That was when you still played outside until dark, and video games were great, but not our lives. It was also a time when being an "out and proud" gay kid was not very popular, especially in the South. "Will and Grace" was popular, but they hadn't changed the whole country yet. It was far from the acceptance we enjoy today.

 

Kyle and I were two years apart but always close and unusually best friends. He was the oldest, but growing up, we both had matching swimmer builds, greenish/blue eyes, and natural blond/brown hair. Mine was a bit more naturally curly, and Kyles flowed with waves. In our younger years, we were often mistaken as twins. The High School years removed our similarities. Teenage years tend to separate the masses between the jocks, nerds, preps, and plain awkward. Kyle and I Felt that natural selection firsthand.

 

Kyle was the typical straight-A, Gorgeous Jock. Football quarterback, straight out of an 80s teen movie. He was the poster boy for that "type." His athletics and daily workouts led him to a much larger build than mine. I went through a heavy stage in High School. I no longer had a swimmer's build; my only 6 pack was Coca-Cola. I wasn't into sports but excelled in chorus and drama. (Are you shocked?)

I was always a bit "fem" acting. I didn't set out to be that way. It's simply how I was. (It's how I am today.)  I often got a lot of grief because of my natural mannerisms. And anytime Kyle knew about it, he was right there to set the bullies straight. Although we would never have been friends in the 80s teen movie script, we remained as close as any two friends could be. He was my hero. I looked up to him, and although I forced myself to deny it, on a subconscious level, I looked AT HIM.

I never allowed myself to explore any of those thoughts. It was not often, not even daily. But during the intense heat of a JO session, my mind would occasionally journey across the clear boundaries and into the taboo that was my attraction to his physical form. It was impossible for anyone to ignore the raw maleness that dripped from every part of his frame. Hell, I imagine his buddies looked at him with the same natural attraction. Well, maybe not exactly the same? Regardless, NO. He is my brother. And with that, the images and thoughts were buried and ignored.

Our childhood was a good one. We took vacations as a family and spent our summers at the lake. Holidays and annual events were pictures from a Norman Rockwell collection. Today, we are called Generation X, but at that time, we were kids and teenagers, enjoying our youth and living our best lives as the world of social media and technology grew up around us. We always thought of ourselves as fortunate. We were siblings and best pals.

When Kyle left for college, I was devastated. I felt like my world was gone. My days were no longer filled with the warm-hearted big brother, and the first year without him, I got very depressed. I stopped eating, but that depression turned out to be a great weight loss plan. We stayed in touch for the first year. I coveted those holidays.

Things changed in his second year. It was my senior year. It was the first year that I started to "come into my own," if you will. I got in shape, lost weight, and gained a bit of much-needed independence. Kyle didn't come home much that year. He was studying to be in the sports medical field and devoted all his time to school. That was the first year we drifted apart. Although it was only one year, for the first time, we both developed two separate lives. Each one without the other. I remember being so busy and excited about the future that I almost forgot to miss my big brother.

Class of 1998! My Senior year was coming to an end, and the Summer was beginning. Being a bit older than the norm, our parents had both retired by the time I finished High School: Dad from establishing and selling a multimillion-dollar insurance firm and Mom from 30+ years in pharmaceuticals. Their dream and plan was to travel.

They had both worked hard and raised two responsible boys and deserved every moment of retirement. Kyle and I really had two wonderful parents.

 

Summer of '98

 

EVERYTHING changed, and I found out what BIG Brother really means.

June 5th, 1998, I walked across the stage and accepted my High School diploma. (Kyle was too busy to make the event, but I had become used to his absence.)

On June 6th, my parents hugged me, said goodbye, and pulled out of the driveway in a new 42-foot motor home. They were headed on a three-month trip across the country.

On June 7th, I threw my bags in the car, locked the house, and began the trip to our family's lakehouse. I always told my parents I wanted to spend the Summer before college at the lakehouse. I reflected on the past year as I drove the two hours to the lake. It had been a great year, but I was still dealing with my sexuality. I hadn't told anyone, but now I realize that everyone knew but me.

 

I'm a procrastinator, so it was dark when I got to the house. But I was on my own. No parents, no rules, and a whole summer to explore any other "possibly gay, but not really" guys who were at the lake that year? There may be another guy like me looking for a summer romance. My mind was reeling with thoughts.

 

I HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS HEADED MY WAY!

 

I pulled up the drive and under the cart port. I walked up the stairs to the familiar front porch. Motion sensor lights came on every step of the way, illuminating the familiar path I had run so many times as a child. I turned the key and pushed the old wooden door open. The wonderful musky smell of old house and pine walls took me directly back to the years with my family. I pictured the hundreds of times that Kyle and I raced to cross the threshold first. It had been a few years since I had been there. Mom and Dad came a few times each year, and other family members used the house for events. But then I felt tears fall from my eyes as the moment's nostalgia swept me away.

 

I went to the master bedroom and unpacked. The last time I was here was two summers ago when we had our grandparent's 50th anniversary dinner. For years, my family would spend that same week at this house because my Birthday is also in June. This year I would turn 18. However, I insisted on having a quiet celebration alone. That's what I had always planned.

 

Like a movie montage, I wanted to spend my 18th Birthday alone at the lakehouse, preparing myself for the rest of my life. I had pictured symbolic days of self-reflection during which I would gain inner strength and my future would fall into place because of my newfound independence. Drama, remember??

 

I was exhausted from the trip and from the events of the past few days. I finished unpacking and lay across the old, familiar queen-size sleighbed. I soon fell asleep to the wonderful sounds and Arctic cold air produced by the huge old AC unit in the corner window. I dreamt of many things that night. One particular dream was of Kyle. I guess the old smells triggered some memories. I slept as comfortably and securely as I always had within those walls. At some point during the night, I managed to move myself between the cool sheets and found complete rest under one of Grandmama's heavy quilts.

 

The sun began to shine through mini blinds and it crept its way slowly towards my face. I revolted against its intrusion and shoved myself beneath the covers for the wonder of slumber sleep. I had just started to drift back into dreamland when I heard something from the kitchen side of the house. I Shook it off as some groceries I had brought falling. Back to dreamland.

 

PLANK!! OK, that's not groceries. My slumber 100% now over as my fear became completely real. Mouse? No, It's gotta be Jason from Friday the 13th. I'm at a lakehouse, alone. It was definitely the lakeside stranger. He had come to kill his first in-the-closet gay victim like some kind of Dahmer copycat. I knew immediately that my fate was to end up in a freezer. I slowly pulled myself to the edge of the bed. It was cold. The trusty AC had done its job, bringing the room to a meat-hanging temp.

 

BAM-CLACK!!! Yep, it's a killer, and he's not even trying to be discrete. I waited until the AC compressor started again so the killer couldn't hear my steps. Maybe I could run out the front door. I was only wearing a pair of well-worn Calvin Klein boxer briefs, but the neighbors would just have to see the goods. This was life and death. I stepped to the door and peeked through the space between the Frame and the door. All I could see was a baseball cap and a large frame. He appeared to be going back out the back door. That led to the rear porch, where he was obviously getting an axe to kill me. (Again, dramatic me.)

I quickly opened the door halfway and bolted to the front door. DAMNIT!! It was locked and we had installed a Key lock deadbolt in years past to prevent someone from breaking the glass and opening the lock. It was planned for safety. Now it would be the thing that caused my death.

 

The rear door shut, he was coming back in. I ran back to the bedroom, my heart beating through my chest. Oh OK GOD, help me, I thought as his footsteps started towards the bedroom. I didn't know what to do. I hid behind the door. He slowly walked into the bedroom where I had left the door halfway open. It was dark In the room, only the few rays of light to help guide me in this situation. He slowly came in and walked over to the bed. He seemed to be planning to just start slashing me right there without waking me.

 

I held my breath and watched as he got closer and closer to the bed. I had to do something before he realized no one was there. As any level-headed, still in-the-closet, 175-pound gay drama club president would do… I SCREAMED and ran out of the bedroom to the back door, pushing the Intruder over the nightstand and onto the bed. I continued down the back stairs, around the house, and towards the pier. Yes, I ran to the pier. (I now respect people in horror movies. They are not thinking logically.) I ran onto the pier. Not to the street. Not to the neighbors. Not even to my unlocked car. I ran to the pier.

 

 I suppose I was subconsciously planning to swim away from him?  I got to the end of the pier and looked back towards the house. The killer was standing on the porch. My contacts were not in, and my glasses were somewhere on the now-toppled nightstand. I couldn't see any details, but I could see him on the front porch. He had a big frame that looked dark and menacing. He started walking down the steps towards me.

 

PANICK!!!! He was deranged. He was coming to kill me. In broad daylight. He started yelling, My name. "Kameron!! Oh dear God in heaven, blessed mother of Dorothy Zbornack, he knows my name. I Bet he hid under my car like the killer in "Cape Fear." He's been stalking me for years. Waiting for me to be alone. He's gonna make a coat outta my skin. "KAMERON, come on!! "he yelled as he walked closer.

 

Not today, Satan! I jumped off the pier and started swimming to the neighbor's dock. I was a good swimmer and was halfway there when I turned around. I saw my killer at the end of our pier, holding his stomach, laughing. I wiped my eyes and squinted. "Bro, Kameron, it's me, it's Kyle!!!"

 

WHAT??? KYLE??

 

I suddenly felt like a complete idiot. Our lake was not terribly deep and always crystal clear. I was wading water when I dropped my legs and realized I could stand. The water level reached my shoulders as the cool sand crept between my toes. The rush of chilled water helped me gain my composure as the reality of all this came into my mind. I slowly started walking and treading water back towards our pier and my hysterical big brother.

 

"Oh My God, you almost tore the back door off." Ha ha ha Bahaaa!! He was rolling, literally pee-in-pants, “I can’t breathe” laughter, fell from his face. My embarrassing actions now turned to anger. I climbed up the steps onto the pier and lunged at Kyle. "What the Hell BRO. What the fuck are you doing here? You scared the shit outta me." "damn you man this aint funny." I shouted.

 

Still laughing Kyle raised his hands to defend my shoves, "Hey hey, I'm sorry, I was gonna surprise you for your birthday." He stated.

"well, you managed that, asshole," I yelled and gave him one final shove as I stormed off towards the house.

 

"Kameron, hey bro, I'm sorry, don't be mad. I didn't mean to scare you." Kyle retorted as he started coming after me, still laughing under his breath. In my greatest dramatic performance to date, I marched back up onto the front porch and turned towards him. "I seriously could have had a heart attack, did you even think about anything? Mr Doctor?" Realizing how super silly that statement was, I couldn't help but crack a smile when I turned and looked at him.

 

I hadn't seen Kyle in almost a year. If he had been studying, it must have been in a gym with tanning bulbs in the ceiling. He stood there in ripped jeans, brilliant white sneakers, and a black tank top that clung to each muscle as if it were holding on for its very existence. A thread-bare white shirt draped perfectly over his full shape, and a college cap fit tight on his head with that expertly curved bill.

 

I looked into his bright green eyes and saw true regret, as if his county fair balloon had just popped. I melted a bit, but I still held onto my self-presumed sibling rivalry and smiled.

I don't know much about "Mary," but there is something about Kyle that makes my world better. I smiled bigger.

 

"Well. I guess it was a little funny." I said as I issued a brief parole from his previous sentence. "He beamed those million-dollar teeth back at me and said, "Damn right it was. Funny-as hell. But you almost made me stab myself with the nightstand and lamp. Dumb-ass…” He said as he ran up onto the porch to give me a hug.

 

His arms engulfed me. I melted into his embrace, his friendship, and his general love for me. The connection that had always been so natural returned immediately. We jostled and tossed each other's hair as we shared a heartfelt greeting. Keeping our masculine bravado, we both knew that all was well within our world.

 

He pushed me back and said, "Lil bro, you look great. Damn, do I need to barricade the door to block all the high school hotties from getting in here? Mom and Dad said you'd lost weight but damn bro. You look incredible."

 

I blushed and literally soaked in the compliments like a dry sponge. I had, in fact, changed. My braces were off, and my chest was defined. I had an early tan, which made my teeth even brighter than they actually were. I'd also let my curly hair grow a bit, giving me a surfer kid kind of look. I hadn't started to realize all the changes until that moment. I think about that even today.

 

The next few comments left me with a permanent blush and more than a few questions.

"Bro, I can't get over the change. We are Definitely gonna have to board up the doors when they find out the two gorgeous Kirkland boys are in this house." Kyle continued as he made his way past me to the front door. We had always been close and he had always been kind. But we had never shared compliments on looks or physique. You know, we kept it “All Bro.”

 

"Man, shut up. I'm still pissed at you, so I'm not buying the flattery and Kyle charm." I shot back. Then he looked down and spoke. "Theres no flattering needed lil bro,  and from the looks of whats slipping out of those wet shorts, it appears that you've grown a delicious bit of gorgeousness of your own." He stated with a wink and walked into the house.

 

I looked down and somewhere in all th struggles my well worn Calvins had ripped. One previous rip had now been torn much further, and a new rip at the "easy access" pouch had also ripped. These two strategic tears had left the large mushroom head of my cut cock, and the midsection of my hefty shaft exposed to the morning sun. I quickly covered myself and went inside. Red as a beet!!

 

What did Kyle say? Did I hear him right? Did he say delicious? gorgeousness?

I'm sure he didn't say delicious? No. Right‽ I was filled with emotions I had never felt. Something stirred within me. Something erotic, yet taboo. I questioned every word spoken on that porch. Today I know what he said, and I know that he meant to enlist those exact emotions. But in that moment, I had no idea what was happening. I certainly didn't know what life changes that Summer would bring.

 

Chapter Two

The morning had begun with fear and embarrassment. My mind was still reeling from the roller coaster of emotions I had just experienced.

I walked to the house towards the master bath. As I stepped into the room, I found the lamp on the floor, the shade bent, and the light bulb broken. It had met its fate when I made my daring escape from my serial killer, Big Brother. I straightened up the nightstand and lazily shoved the broken glass under the corner to deal with later. Typically, I would have cleaned that up immediately. But at this moment, my mind was focused on much more. My head was spinning, and my heart was still beating with excitement. Had I just heard things, right? Had my brother called my dick delicious? Was he staring at it? Was he staring at me? No way. But he definitely said “delicious.” It must be some new college term that I was not hip to? Surely, I'd misread that. Misread or not. My cock jumped with excitement at the thought of Kyle looking at me.

As I carefully moved the final piece of broken glass, I couldn't help but chuckle with laughter. Thinking about my actions and picturing me running and jumping into the lake. That was funny, I had to admit it. I was on one knee with my left side to the door when Kyle stepped into the doorway.

He leaned in, placing his hands on either side of the doorway. They wrapped themselves around the doorframe, holding the weight of his body. His abrupt halt had caused beautiful natural blonde streaks to sway towards his cheekbones. They came to rest at the edge of his cheeks as if to cradle the sculpted perfection. His large physique filled the entrance as if he were perfectly chiseled out of a piece of flawless tanned ivory. I was suddenly looking at the cover of a teen romance novel as the daylight illuminated the room behind him. As he leaned in, his biceps flexed and stretched the paper-thin fabric of the white fabric clinging to his body.

Thankfully my cock was exposed on the opposite side of my body because it jumped again and started its ascent to the sky.

 

The combination of morning, ripped Calvins, and Kyle was too much for my 18-year-old hormones to handle. "Oh Shit, did you break it?" He questioned. "Hell no, you broke it." I retorted with a peal of continuous laughter, careful to hide my growing member. He gave me the trademarked million-dollar smile, rolled his beautiful green eyes, and muttered, "Whatever, Lil bro…" as he bounced to the kitchen.

I waited until I could clearly hear him in the kitchen, then I stood up and quickly stepped to the bathroom. Closing and locking the door, I took a deep breath.

I then took a brief moment to deal with something I hadn't given much thought to in a while. Kyle had been away for so long. I had not had to deal with these feelings in some time. It had been a year since I sat in my bedroom, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of Kyle getting out of the shower. Even longer since I had watched him play ball in the backyard or help dad around the house in running shorts. The guilt and combined shame of this hidden lust had not been an issue for some time. I had hoped and prayed it was a teenage phase or hormonal puberty thing. The gay thoughts were dealt with, but the taboo of this??? No, No, I couldn't go back to pining over Kyle again. Those thoughts were buried long ago, never to resurface. RIGHT?  But what the hell had just happened? Had my Bog Brother just flirted with me?

 

WHAT in literal HELL???

 

My mind was more confused than a peach tree blooming in December. My mind was reeling with incredibly inappropriate thoughts of Kyle. The layers of denial were stripped away, and the reality of that “desire” came back to the surface with a fury.

 

I grabbed a towel and started to dry my wet hair. As I looked up and started to ruffle the other side of my head, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. There stood a smaller version of Kyle. The similarities that we had as kids had returned. Of course there were differences, but I was looking at a smaller version of my brother. Kyle with ripped Calvins, a toned, tanned build, and freshly shaved heavy balls presenting a hefty semi-hard-on. I had jerked off to the mirror many times before. Picturing it was another guy. But I had not done so since my body had blossomed into my brother's smaller framed double. I dropped the towel to the floor and guided my right hand to my dick. I grasped the shaft, and, with two strokes, I was rock hard. I didn’t try to bury anything. I allowed my mind to run free. Fresh and raw visions of my brother flooded my mind. I stepped closer to the mirror. My hand was now starting to work with a pleasurable rhythm. I allowed my left hand to touch my chest and slid it down to the waistband of the partially destroyed boxer briefs. The HOTNESS of being partially nude was too tempting as I played with the waistband and pulled it down touching the base of my shaft.

 

I focused my attention on my body and cock as I held its rigid straightness tightly in my hand. Up and down the pole, I stroked, imagining my brother's cock in my hand. I halted briefly and allowed saliva to fall from my mouth and land on the head of my cock. I kept the rhythm as I simply allowed the natural lubricant to engulf my rod, intensifying the desire. My left hand now stretching the waistband of my underwear further down, allowing its elasticity to rub against my hard dick. I released the waistband and propped myself against the wall with my left hand as I started to feel that beautiful release building up inside me. I thought of my tongue reaching forward to touch the tip of Kyles Dick.

 

Sweat started to bead on my forehead as my mind raced to Kyle. I imagined his hands pulling me up for a deep, passionate kiss right before leading me gently back down to his crotch. I could almost feel his two hands caress the back of my head as he guided my lips towards his thick, throbbing manhood. I thought of him saying: "Its all yours lil brother, Ive wanted you for so long." With that thought I exploded onto the mirror.

 

Stream after stream of hot cum hit the mirror with a force that seemed enough to crack its surface. The strength of my youthful cum shot was evident as  I watched the creamy substance splatter on the surface. As each pulse of cum hit the reflective surface, I wished it was my face being rewarded with Kyle's seed. I shook with pleasure as the orgasm rippled through me. The last stream hit the floor as the fluid started to drip from my mushroom head and spilled on my thumb. I brought the cum to my lip and applied it like gloss, then allowed my tongue to taste its sweet saltiness. I trembled with final waves of orgasm as I pictured myself tasting my Big Brother.

 

Breathing heavily, I closed my eyes and allowed reality to once again invade my fantasy. I turned towards the shower and started the water. The smell of bacon began to fill the air as I heard Kyle shout. "Jerk it quick, dipshit, Im cooking breakfast." We had always teased one another about this. If he had only knew how many times he had yelled that same thing while I was doing just that, secretly thinking about him. This time had been different. He had given me more to work with than just passing glimpses and tight clothing. He had actually talked about ME, and commented on ME. Not just me, but he called my cock delicious.

 

I cleaned the mirror and stepped into the shower all the while trying to figure out those comments. I realized something as I soaped up and allowed the warm water to refocus my attention. The guilt and shame that normally followed a "Kyle centered orgasm," was no longer there. I had to remind myself that it was not normal. I actually had to tell myself, "It’s your BROTHER, Kameron…” I guess my Baptist upbringing allowed some shred of guilt to creep back in, but there was still some kind of acceptance going on. There was definitely less guilt, and for the first time, my thoughts didn’t bring the disgrace it had always bestowed.

 

Again, What in Baptist HELL???

 

Breakfast was the same as hundreds of times before. The two Kirkland brothers sitting at the round oak table teasing one another, talking and laughing, having breakfast at the lake. The past year had been the longest we had been apart. I had often wondered if our reunion would be awkward. You know how things are when you’re not around someone. Sometimes, it takes a while to regain that level of oneness. It took us about three seconds. Since the terror of the morning had passed, when I walked into the kitchen for breakfast, I was greeted by Kyle. My Brother. My Best Friend. My Kyle.

 

It turns out that He had been working and studying so that he could spend part of the Summer at the lake as well. It had been a surprise that Mom and Dad helped coordinate. Up until that day, I had truly wanted to be here alone, but Kyle being with me felt safe, normal, and truly meant to be. We had a terrific day being lazy, just enjoying one another. Laughing and catching up. We spent most of the day at the end of the pier in the sun or swimming. We had some lunch out there, and it was like our childhood. Ham sandwiches and chips with cans of SunDrop. The day was filled with Great Big inner tubes, floating chairs, and the smell of tanning oil.

 

It was a terrific day for me. I got to keep my eyes planted on my gorgeous brother all day long. He wasn’t wearing a Speedo or anything revealing. Instead, he chose a pair of board shorts. Trust me, in my imagination, they got removed each time he came out of the water.

There was some odd spirit in the air all day. I couldn’t place it, but I remember there being a calm, almost freedom between us that we had never experienced. I believed it was the fact that we had both grown older and more mature. Looking back, I can clearly see what was happening that day. That entire day, Kyle kept telling me that he had a surprise planned. Something major planned for later.

 

After lunch we even went back to the house for a nap because he said: “We will need our rest for later.” He kept saying that he wanted my 18th Birthday to be the best of my life, and he was here to make sure that happened. I had no idea what he meant. At the time. Today, I believe he had the night planned out all along. That Birthday remains My Favorite Birthday Celebration of all time!! That day was a precursor for our entire Summer. It shaped my entire life and Kyles.

We look back sometimes, and…  Well, I'm getting ahead of myself again.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

Me and My BIG Brother pt 3

 

The sun began to set on my 18th birthday as I woke from an afternoon nap. Kyle had insisted that we take a nap. Although it wasn't my typical routine, the sun had drained me. The thought of curling up in one of Gran's heavy blankets with that big ole window unit blowing arctic air into the dark lakehouse bedroom sounded like heaven. It was. (Many times over the years, I have found myself full of tears thinking of that wonderful old room, and Gran.) 

When I opened my eyes, I saw twilight colors peeking through the window. The air was filled with that lazy summer, Saturday afternoon feeling. The days when you had no specific plans, and no obligations to fulfill. God had painted the sky with shades of pink, orange, and red. The hues melted together as they spilled through the blinds and onto the pinewood planks. I slipped out of bed and headed to witness the full spectrum of the sunset. One of the most spectacular things about the Lake was its sunsets. They could easily take your breath away. This one was no disappointment.

 

With hair pressed to one side of my head, I swayed towards the living room. Kyle was nowhere to be found. The house was expansive; he could have been anywhere. I assumed he had taken refuge in our childhood bedroom, and I was correct. I opened the door to find him asleep on the bottom of our old bunk bed. The nostalgia was immense, but the picture was quite different. Where there had once been a skinny kid curled under a blanket, now lay a broad-shouldered man. He now encompassed the entire space with one leg off the side. A twin-sized mattress, no longer able to hold his full form. I watched him breathe and let my mind wander.

 

I thought of my life after this summer. I thought of Kyle's life at school and the current paths of all my family. The four of us were always a close bunch, but now it seemed we had separate journeys. Our parents were now determined to spend their retirement exploring the world, as well as they should; they certainly deserved it. They had made their intentions clear for years with phrases like, "Boys, when your Mom and I retire, you'll have to send a messenger pigeon to find us." Mom would say, "Yall, make sure you get a job that supports you because we don't plan to leave you a dime. You can have the house and the RV. Unless we need to sell the house to keep up our expensive on-the-road lifestyle." Dad would chime in, "By that time, y'all should be doing well on your own. You can send us money and support us until we drive over the same cliff as Thelma and Louise did." This was always followed by laughter, yet we knew that a portion was completely true. I chuckled at the thoughts.

 

I started thinking about what our lives would be like in the next few years. I'm sure Kyle would find a girl and get married. What would I do? I had known I was gay for some time now. I knew Mom and Dad knew as well. We simply hadn't talked about it. That's how things were as Southern Baptists in the 90s. You threw things under the rug and left them alone, like normal people. There were very few deep talks about feelings. Both Mom and Dad were supportive and loving, but we let things go without words. Wait until I tell you how I "came out." So typical for my family.

 

Back to the Lakehouse… As my mind pondered the many unknowns, I stood in the doorway and just listened to Kyle sleep. It was an adorable sight. He had a slight snore. Nothing obnoxious, only enough to let you know he was asleep. His tanned leg caught the same sunset that I had just seen. The rays of color leaped from one side of the room to the other as they struck his perfect jawline, casting a flawless shadow onto his chest. I thought; “that sunset ain't the only thing God did well.” About then, I glanced at the small dresser mirror and saw even more of that resemblance. I looked back at Kyle just in time to watch the afternoon's amber rays meet the emerald green in Kyle's half opened eyes. I heard, "Are you just standing there looking at yourself in the mirror? Get out, get your own mirror; this one is for my face." He muttered and laughed as he stretched himself awake.

 

I was a bit embarrassed that he had caught me watching him, but I played it off and started walking towards the dresser to dig through the drawer. "So, what's the plan? What's this amazing memory we're going to create? Wait, are you taking me on some kind of hunting thing with one of your high school buddies? Cause if I have to dress in camouflage, I didn't bring a thing." I stated with my usual quick wit and shallow comic timing. "And I ain't shooting nothin'," I added with the same demeanor. Kyle rolled his eyes and leaned up in the tiny bed. He rested on his elbows and said, "I guess you could say it's a bit of hunting. But you're going to have to help me out this time. I'm taking you to the hunting grounds." He winked and shot me a shy and devious smile. I stood there and pondered on what he could have meant as he hopped up and headed towards the hallway bathroom. He punched my arm as he passed by and said, Come on, Get ready. We have a whole night ahead of us." He was in the bathroom before I could protest or question any further.

I left the bedroom doorway and started walking back to the master bedroom. That was not typically my room, but I claimed it for this summer. Since Kyle was in the shower, I unpacked the remainder of my things. The last 36 hours had been filled with too much excitement to worry about unpacking. I gently placed one summer's worth of items into the cedar-scented dresser drawers. My mind was racing; Hunting Grounds? What did that mean? I didn't give it much more thought as my mind began to focus on spending the evening with my Big Brother.

The closest major city was a port town called Wilmington, NC. There was a mid-size town of approximately 150 thousand people. The great thing about it was the mixture of cultures. It hugged the coast of North Carolina, so one part of town carried a definite laid-back beach surfer vibe. However, traveling about 20 miles across town, the downtown area boasted an Urban Bohemian feeling. The lakehouse was in a tiny community surrounding the Lake. There was a general store, a gas station, a small Walmart and a handful of mom-and-pop restaurants. Over the years, we have traveled to this city many times for supplies and items that are unavailable locally. I assumed that Kyle had something planned there. The lazy lakeside community was not big on nightlife. My mind continued to race as I heard the bathroom door open.

"Hey, Bro, I'm out. Get Ready; I know how long it takes you." He yelled as I heard the wet bare feet hitting the hardwood floor as they traveled across the hallway.

"Shut Up," I demanded as I closed the dresser drawers and turned to make my way towards Kyle's room. "What am I supposed to wear? I seriously don't have camouflage. I didn't bring much." I spoke as I walked towards his room to hear him better. In complete honesty, I could hear him fine. I was walking closer to see him fresh out of the shower. The sight of My Brother with a towel around his waist was a vision I had not drooled over in some time. I figured, lets add to the photobook. I continued mumbling as I got closer to the entrance, "I was not planning to go to a prom; all I brought were clothes to hang ar… round, in…" My words slowed to a dead stop and stumbled into a blubber as I arrived at Kyles wide open door and looked up. Kyle was standing at the side of the bed with a pair of wide waistband blue briefs in one hand and red CK boxer briefs in the other. Other than these articles of clothing, nothing else was touching his body. He was completely naked. He held both pairs of underwear up, gave each one an inquisitive look, and said, "Ok, tell me, blue or red."

My heart may have briefly stopped. My eyes immediately started to work overtime as I surveyed the vision and stored snapshots for later memory. I had seen Kyle before, but those had been sneaked peeks. They were small glimpses and occasional bathroom moments. I had never been given such a bold, deliberately unobstructed view. I also quickly scanned the changes that had manifested over the past year. Today had obviously been the only time he had tanned while wearing shorts. His minimal tan lines drew a reddish-pink line across his waistline and above his knees. He was smooth almost everywhere. A dusting of blonde leg hair covered his beautiful stems. The evening twilight had since given way to a dark purple sky, and the lights inside the house gave off an enchanting Amber glow. The shadows seemed to highlight Kyle's Heavenly features. A perfect group of muscles gathered to form a deeply defined Adonis Belt V that seemed to point to the Grand Prize.

It was definitely worth the attention, and my soul gave a standing ovation as my eyes drank in this marvelous view. Kyle's package was neatly shaven but not completely. Two heavy balls hung lazily on either side of an equally weighted, perfectly formed Cock. His balls were smooth and served as the superb backdrop for such an incredible piece of God's artistry.

His dick was just like mine, but longer and thicker. It looked semi-hard as its weight hung low and commanded the attention of all the air around it. Y’all, I swear I think the damn thing glowed with a golden aura.  I was stunned, and I stared directly at it. It was male perfection. There was no hiding or glancing. I did not look away and say, "I'm sorry." Once my two eyes met this sight, I was in a trance.

Kyle stood before me with the confidence of a New York runway model. He was holding two pairs of underwear in his hands like puppets. He looked as innocent as a lamb as he intentionally allowed me to remain in this dumbfounded stooper. I finally circled the wagons in my mind and landed back on the Prairie. I stumbled through the words, "Umm, Red, ah, but I like the blue too…" I'm honestly shocked I said that much.

"Let me try them on…" He started as he tossed the red pair in the bed and turned to put in the blue. “…cause they both look good, but I think one makes the goods look better." He faced me full frontal again. "I got these from a friend in school. He sells them and asked me to model them for a promo thing. I got to keep all the undies." He continued as he strutted across the room to see himself in the mirror. His left side was towards me as he looked back at the mirror behind him, saying, "They are comfortable as Fuck, and I never thought I'd give a damn about underwear, but I may be spoiled."

The entire time Kyle walked around the room, I just watched and tried to think of what to say. I wanted to be cool, calm, and collected, but the only thing being collected was blood as it raced to harden my dick. There was no way to hide it. I was in boxer briefs myself. I pushed myself to the doorframe and said. "I like those, but let's see the red ones." I was pretty damn bold now. I wanted another view of that massive cock.

"Yeah, they're comfortable too, and I think these show off the package better. I'll let you decide." Kyle stated as his tanned thumbs slipped into the waistband of the blue pair. I was almost confident he was getting harder, and that was confirmed as the head of his cock slid from the bondage of the blue fabric. It flopped out and presented its (definite) semi-hard self to the world as Kyle tossed one garment on the bed and leaned over for the other. When he came back up with the red pair in his hand, he opened his arms and said. "Well, I'm sorry, Lil bro, I'm guessing he approves of the audience. He sure seems to be pointing towards you. Maybe he missed you watching him?" He confessed with a grip as he slipped one leg and then the other into the red boxer briefs.

Stunned, I finally looked up and muttered, "What? Watching … him? what?" My face flushed with the same deluge of blood that had rushed to my dick. My heart was pumping in tandem, trying to fill my cock and my face with blood at the same time. I was beet red and starting to sweat as I searched for the next words to say. "Hey, hey, no, no, I didn't mean it like that." He started as he approached me and placed his right hand on my shoulder. "I'm not angry or giving you a hard time." His voice was slower now, like a gentle whisper. His face was so close to mine that his breath caressed my cheek. “Kameron, It's ok; honestly, I've always enjoyed you watching me." He continued as his hand slid off my shoulder and tightened around my bicep. "Hey bro, I've always known you were watching me in the shower. I tried to make sure you saw what you wanted to see." He whispered.

I stared at the floor with enough concentration to look directly through the wood planks to the ground below. My heart was beating in my ears, my cock was throbbing, and my body was trembling. Kyle took his left hand and brought it to my cheek. He slowly cradled my chin and brought my eyes up to meet his. "Was I right or wrong?" Kyle asked with a louder, sultry, matter-of-fact expression. He tilted his head to the right, smiled ever so slightly, and came closer. His hips guided his still semi-hard cock to mine. The fabric containing his stiff manhood softly brushed the stretched cotton holding in my hard dick. He then slid his hand to my hand and started to draw imaginary lines from my middle knuckle to the bend in my wrist.

"It Seems like I was right all these years. This is what you wanted to see." When he said the word "THIS" he pressed himself harder into my hard-on. I thought I might faint as I stood there without saying a word. Kyle's breath passed my face; his eyes remained deadlocked on mine. My brain took a moment to register the situation, and my hormones took over as I leaned forward. Kyle's tongue stretched forth to wet his full lips. The moist heat felt like warm oil dripping over my body as our lips gently touched. It was a light and soft kiss, then another. Our lips were teasing one another. Together then apart, then back together again to find themselves within centimeters of one another.

Kyle's cock was now rock hard, and it found its rightful place as it was pressed directly next to my rigid cock. The two pieces of male flesh raged together as if they were part of the same body, perfectly fit to live together. The only thing preventing their touch was two layers of translucent material. This barrier was now the only thing preventing the complete disclosure of the contents hidden deep within our own Pandora's box. Years of fantasy and desire were now a reality. I had scripted millions of scenes between Kyle and me in my mind, yet none contained the passion and ecstasy of this moment. This wasn't a script, and this wasn't a daydream. I finally broke my silence and said, "Kyle, I want to." He stopped me with another kiss, then pulled himself away far enough to take my hand and guide it to his dick. His breath shuttered when my hand made contact. I wrapped my fingers around Kyles perfect cock and gently rubbed it up and down as if following an animal instinct. We both took a breath as if it were the first one after being submerged and deprived of oxygen.

We exhaled, and Kyle said, "I hope that is what you want because I've wanted to feel your hands on my cock for a long time." I leaned in to kiss him, and we both started to move back into the room. My right hand reached for his waistline, and I allowed my fingers to pull back the elastic fibers. I was about to actually feel my brother's erect cock for the first time. The palm of my hand was hot with anticipation. The years of thirst were about to be quenched as I inched further towards Kyles concrete rod. My body was still halfway in the dimly lit hallway. Suddenly the motion sensor light beamed light onto the porch, and the solid glass door allowed it to flood the hallway with light. At that exact moment, we heard a shrill voice, "YooHoo, Kameron!!! It's Aunt Patty!! Knock Knock!!"

DAMNIT!!!!

[hncproject]

ᚐ҉ᚐ✦⸻ Brand Style Guide

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✦⸻ I started my brand guidelines by making a few art boards, giving them a black background and putting a few things I already designed onto the pages. The style guide progress was very slow, since I wasn't sure what to add. I noticed the mascot I made did not stand out on a dark background, so to enhance its silhouette I changed the background colour to white.

✧ I had the idea to name the colours, add a few notes on how to use colours, a few notes on how to use fonts, and a few logo variations just to make the pages seem a little more filled. Giving the colour names gives the brand just a little more personality, allowing you to understand it's perspective and values. I chose these names based on the aesthetic I wanted to communicate. "Bat wings", "sleepless eyes", "pretty bruise", "lips" and "angel wings" are meant to convey a melancholic feeling.

✧ Similarly to how Duolingo's owl is named Duo, I thought I should name my owl. Naming my mascot would add a little bit more personality to it an, in turn, make people find it cute and endearing. In order to name it I thought of slang words popular during the 2000's. Nostalgia attracts people. I named my owl "Selfie" since it was such a popular, cool and new word in Y2K. Selfie is an easy word to say with a memorable history, and is pretty cute for a name.

✦ For the fonts, I chose the usual Old English MT for headings and subheadings. I thought it'd be too unreadable as body text however. I didn't know what to change it though! I tried to get inspired by other pictures such as this.

✧ I noticed the Blackletter fonts, the family Old English MT is part of, are often paired with thin, clear texts. I tried Avenir, like in the picture above, but it just didn't feel right paired with a word like "flustered". I tried Luminari, but that wasn't easy to read. Although Luminari was a strong contender for the fantasy feel, it would be hard to focus on as a body text. I tried Arial but that was too basic! I wanted a thinner font than that.

✧ After these attempts I tried Courier New. Courier is used for technical documentation... I thought it's a good idea to use this font for my brand since the only people familiar with technical documentations would be nerds. I mentioned Flustered is a brand that welcomes anyone, and nerds are no exception. I would give them something familiar to look at. I also mentioned several times Flustered uses familiarity to market to it's audience and this is no different. I am appealing to this group of people by showing them something they see most days.

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✦ I added my final touched and my style guide was done. There's just one issue when displaying it on tumblr... the footnotes and some of my notes are very small. almost unreadable. Clicking on each page might make it easier to read.

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✦ Although the Style guide has everything it needs to have, it feels a little empty. It communicates what it needs to communicate but the last page is really lacking. Maybe a adding the pink marbling effect on it like on the other pages would've pulled the look together.

✧ After proof reading, I noticed a mistake too. I forgot to name the green colour! It's something I can't fix either, but I can try to rename it while I'm writing now. I thought of "Matcha" at first but that did not suit the aesthetic at all. "Absinthe" would be another contestant, since absinthe alcohol is associated with the goth subculture. However, Absinthe has a strong green colour, whereas my brand's green is much more muted. As a final decision, I think "Mould" is a better fit. It's rancid enough to fit the aesthetic, while also pale enough to resemble real mould.

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[chaos-dumpster-fire]

Ok so lore dump:

Intially PIE was one of my 3 scp ideas, and the most complex/least humanoid one. PIE is an acronym for the union of PI (3.14etc), i (sq. rt. of -1), e (euler's constant). Motto: "For the irrational and unreal, we're essential!" (this is a math joke. I am a math nerd. We live with this fact every day of our lives)

The start of my attempt at a formatted file sums it up as:

"SCP-12321 is a group designation for a group of anomalous humanoids who appear to be connected to several otherwise unrelated SCPs. This group wear generic black clothing and carry cameras, microphones, duct tape, makeup, and assorted home improvement and home economic supplies, as well as handheld power tools and storage equipment. Clothing does not appear to be worn so much as either manifested or anomalously altered. The backs of shirts and jackets or hoodies worn by 12321 instances tend to read ‘Crew’ in bold lettering. 

Origin: Unknown. DNA samples left behind by 12321 instances and collected by Foundation agents have turned up thousands of results. Until recently, it was suspected to be arbitrary, but currently, over 700 of confrimed samples are matches to people currently working as technicians, camera operators, makeup artists, or special effects crews in various entertainment formats. Although several of the matched civilians are deceased or missing, there does not appear to be a correlating trend. "

Tldr, PIE is essentially IATSE or any other tech theatre union but an anomaly, and for anomalies! Sascha is a lower-tier member based on a combination of hours worked and unity with group (low unity, initial idea was that the instances are essentially all spawned from the same source, while Sascha hails from outside/has deviated sufficiently to have a name and identity chose).

Notable PIE-involving productions you may (or may not) have heard of: Multiple performances within Alagadda, majority of the renditions of the Hanged King's play, backstage crew of Laugh is Fun, technical setup for the Circus of Disquietment, operators for Bobble's show, and many more!

PIE members appear and disappear as needed (always out of sight), and are perpetually busy and dressed in stage blacks, accessorizing with half-aprons, tool belts, baseball caps, and rigging harnesses. The running gag here is that they're pretty much only seen between gigs (to make a metaphor out of it, the doorway between the theatre and the outside world), and continuously will talk to you but also declare they are "in a hurry, they really gotta go, please go through the union to set up a meeting" and then duck behind a corner to disappear with any equipment they're carrying.

Little blurb from an in-field interview:

"Field Interview. Participants: Agents Masha Kandinsky, Mir Rubenschtein, and Soo Cho, with three 12321 instances. Agent Kandinsky noted that while the clothing appeared to be just indistinct from entity from a distance, it resolved with proximity. Current theory is that instances rely on either illusion or shapeshifting for this effect. At time of interview, the 12321 instances were dismantling what looked like several boom lights and boom mics of unspecified make, placed into generic cases for transport. Agent Rubenschtein reported all instances had clothing imitating black jeans and black shirts, with the second instance wearing a polo rather than a t-shirt, and the second and third wearing a black beanie and fingerless gloves, respectively. Agent Cho noted that the transport cases, unlike the clothing, appeared to have details such as screws, metal grooves, and caster wheels even from a distance."

Anyway yeah. They are an anomalous backstage worker union and I think they're really funny.

Ok fuck it new oc who is just a blatant self-insert: Sascha Golds

Anomaly (unregistered Keter)

part of the PIE union*

continuously runinng off bc work, new gig, can't stay to chat, etc etc

Can pass through walls by yelling "Set change!", shapeshift outfits w/ "Quick change!", control light and speakers/elecrtonics by treatign them as light/sound/SFX cues, etc etc

friendly! just refuses to be detained!

Misspells "dear" as "deer" in all documentation

*ask for massive fucking lore dump

[taechaos]

How about a scenario where nerd oc gives jk a sex ban😏

yall rly like to watch jk suffer huh 😪

disclaimer: softcore smut(?)

"No, no," you mumble against Jungkook's lips when he reaches under your shirt, now only hovering over your breast without touching from your interruption. It isn't long before you pull away from him to see his knitted eyebrows and swollen lips forming a pout.

Every time your kisses last longer than a peck, he tries turning it into something more by shoving his tongue down your throat; hands traveling to your spine; hips grinding against yours, and after last night, you need a break. You're sore, and although you have the overwhelming urge to continue what you started, your body needs more rest than just seven hours of sleep. He gets too excited, too rough, too wild and you can still feel the aftermaths of his spent energy both internally and externally.

But he doesn't, which is why he's staring at you in confusion, like he didn't just blow your back out twice less than a day ago.

His hand slowly slips out of your shirt—technically his shirt—and you feel his fingertips trail down your stomach before he's no longer touching you. "What's wrong?" he quietly pants from not having caught his breath after your heated kiss.

You put some distance between your faces and quip, "It is 8 o'clock in the morning."

The gears are evidently still turning in his head, missing the correlation between time and foreplay. "Okay?" It's flattering that you can arouse him with the simplest of touches, but it also baffles you how his energy never runs out when it comes to sex.

"And I'm still tired from yesterday," you explain for him to take a hint.

"You don't have to do anything," he shakes his head, still wearing that cute clueless expression. "I can be gentle–"

"No, Jungkook," you chuckle at his misunderstanding. "I just need a day to recharge. I can't match your... you know."

He leans back in bewilderment, his fluffy bed hair mushing against the pillow at the action. "What?" The curiosity in his eyes warms your insides.

Lust is sometimes hard to control and can cloud your judgement. When you see his broad shoulders, his protruding collarbone, plump rosy lips, the thin blanket teasingly hiding his bare chest, you want to give him what he wants because you want it too. But unlike him, you're aware of the break your body is begging for. No matter how much you want to ignore it and let him have his way with you, you know you shouldn't. Your own arousal has to take the backseat this time.

At your silence, he probes, "What is it? Am I too sexual?"

"Yes."

The lack of hesitation in your answer catches him off guard. "So you don't like it?"

"Oh, no, no," you quickly reassure, "it isn't like that."

"Then I can continue?"

"Oh my God," you sigh and roll your eyes. "No. We are not having sex."

"What—why? I mean, I would understand if you weren't turned on or something but you keep trying to take a peek under the blanket." You stammer and blush as he continues, "Is this like a punishment or some sort of ritual?"

"You know what? Yes. It is a punishment," you ignore his comment about your inappropriate ogling. This is the only way you can turn the tables: "You are too horny."

"I think it takes two to fuck."

"Well—I don't care! You can't make any sexual advances towards me today."

He merely stares at you, unimpressed. Is he waiting for you to swallow back your words? You hold your stance and look right back at him, though his bored gaze demeans your determined one. With your chin held up, you wait for him to say something.

Finally, he releases an agitated sigh and lays on his back. When he dims his eyes, it's your turn to watch him in puzzlement. It isn't until you see movement on the surface of the white sheets that it clicks.

He's jacking off right in front of you.

How does he have the audacity to ask if he's too sexual when he's doing this? The irony and shock doesn't allow you to look anywhere else other than him and what's hidden underneath the comforter. "Do you realize that you're proving my point?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to watch?" he taunts you without opening his eyes. But then he peeks an eye open to cheekily ask, "or did you want to help?"

"I said no sexual advances."

"Does taking your shirt off count?" At your instant glare, he defends, "I don't have mine on."

With a click of your tongue, you throw the blanket off yourself and undress per his request. By heaving the garment off yourself, there is nothing left to cover you. It was the only thing you wore for bed after last night's events.

His tongue swipes over his bottom lip when he, without a second's waste, takes in the sight of you lying down on your side, completely naked. The curve of your waist is enough to make him swallow hard. He admires your smooth skin even though he's touched it many times before; he wonders if you're just teasing him now. But then you cross your arms, roll your eyes and huff, "Hurry."

A quiet moan gets stuck in his throat. Okay, now he's certain you're teasing him, but clearly that isn't your intention. He likes the attitude, how you're just allowing him to devour you with his greedy eyes so he can cum, but not without throwing figurative daggers at him. "Not enjoying the show?" he says with mock pity. He is good at steadying his husky voice, but your effect on him is clear by the way he speeds up his pace. You can hear him pleasure himself now by the soft pats against his pelvis from his fist.

"I don't see anything," you snarkily state the obvious. You know you set yourself up for it when he says:

"Good. It's banned."

He ridicules you further by sighing in pleasure, and soon you have to try your best to tune out his low moans throughout this entire torture session. Maybe you should've ignored the little angel sitting on your shoulder who's nowhere to be found now.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part VII

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1864.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

________

You wanted to slap yourself. What the hell was wrong with you today? Why did you tell Peter that?!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” Completely baffled with you behavior, you were deeply ashamed, unable to look the guy in the eyes and wanting nothing but fall into the earth.

“Ah, I got it. It’s Steve, isn’t it?” All of a sudden, Peter let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes skywards and rubbing his neck. “Of course, who else would say such nonsense. Blackmail, really? Funny he didn’t call me a stalker or anything.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean it, I’m really-”

“It’s ok.” He closed the locker, slamming its door loudly and making you jump. “It’s not your fault. If I heard that from somebody, I’d be scared too.”

He spent a couple of seconds staring into the wall until he rubbed his neck again tiredly and huffed. It took him less than a minute to regain his composure, and you heard him murmuring, “What a freak.”

He didn't return to the corridor, heading to the sports hall for his PE class, instead moving to the bench in the locker room and motioning you to sit. Feeling terribly awkward, you hoped he wasn't going to do anything out of anger, even though he had every right to be upset at your stupid behavior.

"About what he said," Peter took a deep breath, "it's nothing like that. I don't dig up some nasty stuff in the web to blackmail people. I've never done it. The reason why Mr. I-am-better-than-you said that is because I've made him take me into his little bodyguard group when I heard him talking to Loki. You're nice, and I wanted to help. Of course, Steve started acting like I was some creep, so he refused, and I had to remind him that, technically, he had to report your issue to the administration, not play a hero. I said that if I go and tell the whole story to the dean, Steve's gonna be in trouble because he knew who thieves were and didn't report them."

It was a loud off your mind. Goodness. Rogers called this a blackmail? Really? Just because Peter pushed Steve into taking him into their group?

You were less and less sure Rogers was sane. You definitely had to be careful around him.

"I can't believe he called it a blackmail." You admitted quietly, and the guy sent you a tired smile. "Peter, I'm so, so sorry. It was so stupid of me."

"Nah, don't worry. I'd freak out too if I didn't know the whole story."

You knew your apologies weren't enough, but you hoped Peter didn't take it to heart - if you can take such an accusation easily, that is. Shit, shit, shit, why did you believe everything these guys were saying? You didn't even know them in the first place! Why on Earth did you go asking them their opinions on others if all of them were biased, and every guy could twist the truth the way he liked? You shouldn't have let their words affect you that much.

"Whatever. At least now you know what Rogers is like." Peter sent you a grim smile and got up, picking his bright yellow sackpack from the floor. "Shit, I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. Let's meet in a library later, alright?"

"O-of course." You hurriedly stood up and left the lockers room after him, turning to the library: your Lit class was cancelled, so you decided to go study right away. At this time, the library was usually full, and you felt safe there.

Your thoughts were all about the guys again even when you were staring at your laptop, trying to focus on Excel numbers. Why did you feel like the atmosphere between them was so dense? If they were at such terms with each other, why did they group together to help you? What, because all of them loved you so much? It was ridiculous. There was something else to it, and you didn't know. You had a feeling no one was going to tell you the truth until you figured it all out by yourself.

Weird. It was all so weird. Steve's plan, their behavior, the relationships between them, and your nagging feeling they all were hiding something. Was it them who were actually following you?

The thought scared you to the point you started shivering. Oh shit.

"Hi there," the guy appeared behind your back so suddenly you almost jumped, looking at him wide-eyed, "sorry, did I startle you?"

"H-hi Jake! No, it's ok, I was just... studying." Both of you were talking in hushed voices, knowing the librarian would kick you out immediately if she heard some noise. "How are you?"

"I'm great, how're you?" You could hear concern in his voice: he was one of Thor's friends you met yesterday, and although you spoke briefly, Thor definitely told him more about you. "You look a bit worried."

"Oh, it's Math, I didn't really understand the topic, and we're having an exam on Monday... guess I'll be studying the whole weekend." You gave him your best smile to reassure you were totally ok, and the guy relaxed a little, smiling at you, too.

"I'm sure you'll pass. Thor said you're very smart."

What, he said that to all of them? Was he simply boasting about his girlfriend to his friends or was there something more to it?

"You're too kind. Thank you."

His smile grew wider, and he landed on the next seat to yours, resting his hands on the table. Apparently, there was something he wanted to talk to you about, and you grew uneasy.

"Listen, about these incidents... Thor told us all about it, so if you see any freaks following you around, you can message any of us, and we'll come right away." Looking at his serious expression, his bushy brows furrowed, you hoped he eas being sincere with you: you had enough with people you could no longer trust. "And also... that kid, if he's giving you troubles or anything, just let me know, and I'll tell him to keep his hands to himself"

Oh, he was talking about Peter, wasn't he? He had probably seen that silly photo. Wow, you though, Peter was totally right about Instagram: it was the best news source in the academy.

Thanking him for his concern, you laughed a little, convincing him there was nothing serious except for the theft and promising to tell him if anything weird would be going on. While it should have made you feel safer, in fact, you only grew more frustrated with this situation. You wanted to forget about these freaks and just spend you day like any normal student would, but everywhere you went people were staring at you as if you had a horn; one boyfriend or the other was always close to protect you from some unknown danger, and although you believed they tried to help, you hated the feeling they were hiding something from you. Why did you have to be going through all this? Wasn't it really better to drop off school, spend a year working and then apply to a better place?

Thinking of the faces your parents would make once you returned home, you realized it wasn't. This school with all those creeps wasn't worse than home that never felt like a safe place you wanted to come back to. Besides, all money you saved up until now were only good for buying food and things like that: you'd never afford to rent a decent place unless you found a well-paid job. It meant staying with your parents, and it wouldn't be much better than here, just different. If you wanted to drop off, you had to find a good place to stay.

Well, you could at least try, right?

When Peter met you in the library, the two of you no longer talked about anything important, simply studying together to prepare for the exams next week. It didn't feel off: from time to time you met his gaze, and the both of you smiled. You were thankful he didn’t talk about Steve or other guys or that weirdo in the lockers room.

Once you returned home, you went straight to bed, completely exhausted. Luckily, you did much more than yesterday, so you could rest now, but then you thought of Thor kissing you and bit down the pillow, angry at yourself. Why did you keep thinking of him right now?

______________

When you woke up the next morning, you felt like something was off: your body ached, your throat hurt, and your headache was only making it worse. Dammit, you caught a cold, probably. And that’s when it was finally the day to meet Steve, the guy you thought was a mastermind behind all these manipulations that were making you sick to the core. 

Anyway, it’s not like a mere cold would prevent you from doing everything you had planned. You left your bed and went to the bathroom, moving the dresser before again. 

Honestly, it felt terrible. It was definitely because of that flimsy dress you wore to school yesterday when the weather was becoming chilly. Argh. Watching your puffy eyes and swollen nose, you sneezed. Today you had to apply way more makeup to look decently.

Steve showed up earlier than either Thor or Peter: you had to skip your breakfast, hoping to buy something cheap in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He said with his everyday polite expression that soon shifted into a concerned one. “Are you alright?”

What, was it that bad? You did your absolute best to apply enough makeup and do your hair. Did you still look so sick?

“Good morning. Yes, I’m ok, just feeling a little sleepy.” You yawned on purpose, covering your mouth with your hand, and Steve’s face softened.

“Did you study all night?”

“Yep, exams are driving me a little crazy.”

“I understand. I also stayed late last night.”

Of course, the student council president studying all days long to be number one student in the academy. If you didn’t know of his twisted nature, you’d think he was the most typical nerd.

You spent most of the time either in silence or talking about studies, the academy, and everything related to it. Steve acted like a gentleman and a scholar, albeit a little too demonstratively. Walking with you as if he were a king of the place, he constantly replied to greetings of others, waved to his acquaintances and smiled. You felt so off you wanted to find Loki and walk with him: unlike Steve, he was considered unpleasant by the prevailing majority of students.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” America golden boy asked you for the last time, and you forced yourself to smile.

“Of course. Thanks for coming, see you later, Steve.”

As he finally left you in peace, you almost fell down into your chair, your fever only getting worse despite the fact you took some painkillers. It was going to be a long day.

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi @nectav @whatever-happened-to-the-ducks

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: An Apparition A-Pink-ciation of Culture

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

From the diary of Lily:

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When I was little, I used to talk to my stuffed animals all the time.  They were my soft, cuddly friends who were always there for me, and even though they never spoke a word, I always imagined I could hear what they wanted to say.  Even as an adult, I still treat inanimate objects like they’re people too.  In fact, everyone does at some point or another in their adult life.  Anyone who has ever argued with their car that refused to start knows what I mean.

But recently, I realized that sometimes people can do... well the opposite. That sometimes we don’t treat people (who are actual, real people) like they’re people.  It’s not something we consciously think about, but it’s more like we forget that, well, people are people.  I know this sounds really dumb, but I felt like I needed to write about this after a... well after an “argument” I had with my roommate.

I’ve lived with my roommate for a few months now, and I thought I had gotten to know them pretty well.   They like to watch cartoons (like, seriously LOVES them) and we had worked out a TV viewing schedule to make sure that we got along together.  But the other day, I realized that I wasn’t necessarily treating them like they were their own person.  I didn’t mean to do that, but it just kind of happened, and...

...well it gets really complicated because, technically, they aren’t a person.

I mean, they aren’t human; they’re an apparition.

It made me think about all those stories about monsters and ghosts.  Like a ghost used to be human, but then they died, and their spirit became a ghost.  Do we still treat the ghost like the person they were when they were alive?  Outside of a few exceptions, the answer’s a definite yes.

But what about an apparition? It’s kind of like a ghost, but it’s not. I mean, it’s not the soul of someone who died or anything. They just sort of exist. (Would Slimer from Ghostbusters be an apparition or a ghost?).

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

So anyway, reason I’m bringing this all up is because of what happened last weekend. I was channel surfing through the Cable Guide and as I’m flipping through, I pass by Boomerang (you know, the cable channel that spun-off Cartoon Network to hold all the older cartoons?) and all of a sudden, my roommate appears out of nowhere (literally) and practically grabs the remote out from my hands.

“Hey! What gives!?” I say to them.

They immediately change over to Boomerang and my TV screen is suddenly filled up with the color pink. At the same time, my roommate starts “doot-ing” along with the song and goes, “Doo-Doot! Doo-Doot! Do-Doot-Do-Doot-Do-Doot Do-Doot-De-Dooooooooo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doooot”. I have no idea what they’re doing, but then the cartoon starts up and it’s the Pink Panther.

Rhetorically, I go, “What’s this?”

“Pink... Panther...” my roomie says.

And then I make my first mistake by saying, “Huh. Never seen it before.”

Now if I had been paying attention to them, I probably would have seen the face of shock they were making. “You... NEVER... saw it!?” They gasped.

“Nope. Must have been before my time,” which was totally true. I mean, I later found out my Dad used to watch it when he was a kid. It wasn’t on TV when I was growing up. (Why am I defending myself for not watching a specific cartoon?)

Anyway, roomie asks, “Watch... with me?”

And then I, being a total dumbass, say, “Nah. Think I’ll get some dishes in,” before getting up and walking away.

If I had stayed put for just a few seconds longer, I would have heard them asking, “...please?” (In case you’re wondering, they told me about that later.)

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

Yes, I hurt its feelings.  Yes, it was insensitive.  Yes, I am sorry.  But like I said, the thought didn’t even cross my mind back then.  As far as I knew, as long as my roommate had their cartoons, they were happy.  It didn’t occur to me that they cared about anything other than the cartoons themselves.

For the next week, my roommate made sure I knew, now and forever, that this was not true.

My first clue that they were mad at me was later that evening when I went to the living room to watch my usual shows.   It was my turn on the TV, and usually I have to pry my roommate away so I can watch what I want to watch. But that night, the instant I walked into the room, they changed the channel to what I wanted, put the remote down on the couch, and left the room without saying a word.  I thanked them, plopped myself down, and went straight into couch potato mode.

This should have thrown so many red flags in my head, but for some reason, it didn’t.  Maybe I was being too self-absorbed at the time? Maybe I was just tired and thinking, “Aww man, I gotta work tomorrow!”?  No matter the excuse, mistakes were made, and I started paying for them the very next morning.

My “haunting” kicked off with waking up to find most of my rock collection missing.  I have a particular affinity for pretty rocks and gems (I’m kind of a rock nerd) and have my favorites out on display.  But that morning, the only rocks that I could see were the pink ones.  Someone had pilfered almost every pebble from every pedestal to perturb me.   (I saw a chance for alliteration and took it! So sue me!)  I was still waking up and too tired to care about it at the time (me making excuses again) and had work, so I got ready to go and left.

Now I’m not sure how they did it, but my roommate did something to my car radio.   I turn it on and all I get are tunes by Henry Mancini.  Fifty percent of the time, it was the Pink Panther theme, twenty-five percent was the theme from A Shot In The Dark (I had to use Soundhound to figure out that one), and the rest was a mix of some of his other work.   It didn’t matter what station I tried changing it to!  Although I did learn that Mancini composed Baby Elephant Walk, so that’s something.

By now, I’d already figured out what was going on (roommate did it), but couldn’t really do anything about it because I still had work to go to.   As if the daily grind working at an art supply store wasn’t hard enough, I had to work while having the dang Pink Panther theme stuck in my head all day.  Not even the music that played over the store radio could get rid of it.  (Given the quote un-quote “music” they play over the speaker system, I eventually considered it a good thing.)

Then I came home, and that’s when things REALLY escalated.  First words out of my mouth after I walked in was, “Hey, I’m hoooOOOOOLY~!”  Every single wall in the apartment, from the living room, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, and even the bathroom...

PINK!

All of them were painted PINK!

Like strawberry frosted doughnut pink!

As I’m gawking at the interior design sugar rush nightmare, out walks my roommate from around the corner.  Immediately, the first thing I noticed was that they had feet. (Normally, they don’t have feet; they just kind of “hover” or “emerge from the ground” or something.) They had their eyes closed, head held up, and made a point of showing off these noodle legs they had constructed by skipping every other three steps.

They were doing the Pink Panther shuffle.

They walk out of my line of sight and I run over to have a word with them, but by then they disappeared.  I look around and all I see is more and more pink.  From behind me, I hear a mix of snickering slash wheezing.  Like you ever hear of this cartoon dog named Muttley?  They were laughing like him.  And of course, I turn around, and the only thing I see is more pink!

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

I knew that my roommate could be ornery at times, like that time I tried to get an idea of their daily routine by setting up a webcam, but this...

I mean, where did she even get the paint?  (Upon reading back here, I realized I referred to them as a ‘she’ even though I’m not sure if they are a ‘she’ or not.  Yeah, I can edit it to a more neutral pronoun, but something tells me I ought to point this out instead of editing it, for some reason.)

I was half tempted to get back at them by painting the walls back to their original color (they do sell paint by the gallon where I work, and I get the employee discount), but realized they’d just paint(?) the walls pink again.  Like I’d turn around after thinking I finished only to find the work I did completely undone.  I could just picture my roommate doing that and finding it hysterical.

Anyway, tacky as the pink walls were, I didn’t get too angry about them.  For starters, my lease agreement said that I couldn’t paint the walls without landlord approval.  But my lease agreement also acknowledges that my apartment may be haunted.  If the landlord ever brought it up, I’d just tell them the “ghost” did it.  Second, these pranks my roommate was pulling were kind of amusing and didn’t really bother me that much.  (I mean sure, I wanted my rock collection back but I doubted my roommate would have thrown them away.  They know how much they mean to me.)

The one thing I was putting my foot down on was that I wasn’t going to ask my roommate what was wrong.  I got the hint, sure, but I wanted them to know that if something is bothering them, they need to, y’know, actually say something instead of leaving spooky pink clues.  They were being a butt, and my hope was that when they saw how much the pink wasn’t bothering me, then they’d finally open up.  This went on for about a week with me going about my daily routine only to be surprised by the occasional pink interruption.

Like on Wednesday, I go to the fridge to get something to drink, and all I find in there is Pink Lemonade.  It actually wasn’t that bad, but I have no idea how my roommate actually got it given that they never leave the apartment.  Thursday, I get a notification saying a package arrived, and find my roommate used my debit card to order the entire Pink Panther cartoon series on DVD.  And earlier on Tuesday, I got a call from my landlord asking if I knew why someone had called in an order, in their name, to have Owens Corning insulation installed.  In case you weren’t aware, that’s the pink insulation who has “you can guess who” as their mascot.

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

So, Friday rolls around, and by now, the entire apartment is pink.  Like EVERYTHING.  The furniture, the electronics, the toilet, the sink, the appliances, the TV, and everything in between has been made pink somehow.  I’m not sure who out there still makes pink toilet paper, but apparently my roommate has either some special powers I don’t know about yet, or they got connections.

At this point, since my roommate had yet to approach me about “The Pink-ening”, I began playing the reverse-psychology card.  I came home and got to making dinner.  While some of this was a bit more expensive than what I usually spend on food, I figured it was worth it if it meant getting my roommate to talk to me.  My menu included delicious smoked pink salmon, some crab linguine with a nice amount of pink to it for a side dish, and some mashed red potatoes that turn out nice and pink if you got the right recipe.  To wash it down, I picked up a glass of pink lemonade from the fridge, and in the freezer, some strawberry sorbet.

I get down to eating at my pink table, with a pink wooden chair, pink napkins, pink silverware, pink glass of pink lemonade.  It took a little more effort to put this together, but I made an exaggerated point of showing off how good this pink meal was and how much I was just enjoying all this pink.

About halfway into my meal, I get a feeling that someone’s standing behind me.  It’s hard to put into words how you know someone’s there especially since my roommate doesn’t really eat or breath.  It’s like the hairs on the back of your neck become sensitive like cat whiskers and can just... feel that someone’s there.  Usually sends a chill down my spine when that happens, but this time, I was ready and waiting for it.

“Care to join me for dinner?” I say without turning around.  If I had, they probably would have vanished on me again like they had been doing all week.

“Looks... good...” they say in their ever so familiar by now raspy voice.

“Got something you want to talk about?” I ask between bites.  There’s a brief pause as my roommate thinks to themselves.

“...yes,” they finally answer.

“Okay.  Pull up a chair!  It’s been a while since we just, y’know, talked and stuff,” which was true.  

The instant I said that, I realized that even before the “week of pink” began, we hadn’t spent a whole lot of time together outside of our usual TV time.  I had long since figured out that my roommate wanted me to watch Pink Panther with them, but I just thought they wanted to show it to me to show off how (subjectively) good the cartoon was.  Only then did it hit me that they wanted me to watch it with them because they wanted to watch it together with me.  It was like they were hoping for some roommate bonding time or something like that.

Now, it wasn’t like we weren’t talking to each other before this.  I greeted them whenever I saw them, and let them know whenever I came home or was leaving. but we hadn’t actually talked, like... “talk-talk” in a few weeks.  Instead, the conversations over the last few weeks were like the kind of conversations a person would have with their pet cat or pet dog.  Like you’d talk to them, but not really expect an answer from them.

I had been treating her like a pet more than a person.  (Did it again!  I’m thinking I’ll ask them later what kind of pronouns they’d like me to use, or if they’ve even given any thought towards gender or anything).

My guess is that my roommate picked up on this themselves, and just like a disobedient pet who is bored, lonely, or other, they made a mess of the place.  Maybe they were thinking that if I was going to treat them like a pet, they would act like one too?

Of course, I didn’t mean to treat them like that.  I don’t think anyone really does mean it when they do.  It just kind of happens without thinking about it.  The whole reason I’m writing this down here in you, diary, is so that I can make a mental note slash reminder to be careful of doing that kind of thing.  It’s especially important to remember when interacting with other people, like my co-workers or the store customers.  (Unlike my roommate, they can’t get on my case by making my entire apartment pink.)

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

Now where was I?  Oh yeah, our talk.  I think I remember the most important bits of it.  It went something like:

“So, whaddya wanna talk about?” I ask between bites of food.

“Pink...” they say to me.  I wait a moment, expecting them to say “panther” after that, but it when it doesn’t arrive, I step in.

“Yeah!  Pretty amazing what you did with the place!  I didn’t know things could even get this pink!” which was one-hundred percent true.

“...Thank...you...” they say with a smile.  I can tell that was not the answer they were expecting as I could have swore they turned and blushed.  Although I couldn’t tell because of how pink everything else was.

“Although,” I add, “I don’t think the landlord is going to like the apartment being this pink.  If it stays like this, they might kick me out.  And we wouldn’t want that, right?”

Now my roommate, the apparition, actually looks shocked for a moment.  The thought hadn’t entered their head, and for a moment, they looked a little scared.  “N-n-n-no...” they stuttered.

“Well, I’m sure together, we can get this place back to the way it was before the next time they have an apartment inspection.  Whenever that is,” I reassure them.

“Yeah...” my roommate nods.

“Say I got some time off this upcoming weekend.  Want to watch some Pink Panther with me?”  (Oh my God, you should have seen the smile on my roommate’s face when I asked this.)  “I see I have the DVD collection now, apparently,” I say with a wink, “and we can even watch the movies together too.”

“...movies?” they ask.

“Yeah, the Pink Panther was a movie first before it became a cartoon.  It was a live-action movie, but... well some of it’s like a cartoon here and there.  Lots of slapstick comedy that I think you might like.”  They were practically beaming and agreed immediately.  

After Friday’s dinner, we watched some of the cartoons (which are actually pretty funny) and for the upcoming weekend, we’re doing a Pink Panther movie marathon with cartoons mixed in to spice it up.  I also found out that my roommate doesn’t just watch the cartoons, but actually knows a thing or two about them.  Like how Friz Freleng, one of the directors and creative minds behind the original Looney Tunes cartoons, was involved in the Pink Panther’s creation along with a new studio after he left Warner Brothers.  I don’t know how my roommate came to know so much, but it’s pretty cool.

Anyway, I got me some sweet, pink treats to snack on during the movie marathon.  The apartment is still pink as can be, but my roommate said they’ll take care of it once the marathon’s over.  Exactly HOW they plan to take care of it, I have no idea.  Oh well.  No use pinking too hard about it.

(HA!)

[dwellordream]

“...The domesticated horse is not native to the Americas. There is perhaps no more important fact when trying to understand how the horse-borne nomadic cultures of the Eurasian Steppe relate to those of the Great Plains. The first domesticated horses arrived in the Americans with European explorer/conquerors and the settler-colonists that followed them. Eventually enough of those horses escaped to create a self-reproducing wild (technically feral, since they were once domesticated) horse population, the mustangs, but they are not indigenous and mustangs were never really the primary source of new horses the way that wild horses on the Steppe were (before someone goes full nerd in the comments, yes I am aware that there were some early equines in the Americas at very early dates, but they were extinct before there was any chance for them to be domesticated).

Horses arrived in the Great Plains form the south via the Spanish and moving through Native American peoples west of the Rocky Mountains by both trade and eventually raiding in the early 1700s. Notably firearms also began moving into the region in the same period, but from the opposite direction, coming from British and French traders to the North and West (the Spanish had regulations against trading firearms to Native Americans, making them unavailable as a source). Both were thus initially expensive trade goods which could only be obtained from outside and then percolated unevenly through the territory; unlike firearms, which remained wholly external in their supply, horses were bred on the plains, but raiding and trade were still essential sources of supply for most peoples on the plains. We’ll get to this more when we talk about warfare (where we’ll get into the four different military systems created by this diffusion), but being in a position where one’s neighbors had either the horse or the gun and your tribe did not was an extreme military disadvantage and it’s clear that the ‘falling out’ period whereby these two military innovations distributed over the area was very disruptive.

But unlike guns, which seem to have had massive military impacts but only minimal subsistence impacts (a bow being just as good for hunting bison as a musket, generally), the arrival of the horse had massive subsistence impacts because it made hunting wildly more effective. But the key thing to remember here is: the horse was introduced to the Great Plains no earlier than 1700, horse availability expanded only slowly over the area, but by 1877 (with the end of the Black Hills War), true Native American independence on the Great Plains was functionally over. Consequently, unlike the Steppe, where we have a fairly ‘set’ system that had already been refined for centuries, all we see of the Plains Native American horse-based subsistence system is rapid change. There was no finally reached stable end state, as far as I can tell.

Though there is considerable variation and also severe limits to the evidence, it seems that prior to the arrival of the horse, most Native peoples around the Great Plains practiced two major subsistence systems: nomadic hunter-gathering on foot (distinct from what will follow in that it places much more emphasis on the gathering part) on the one hand and a mixed subsistence system of small-scale farming mixed seasonally with plains hunting seems to have been the main options pre-horse, based on the degree to which the local area permitted farming in this way (for more on those, note Isenberg, op. cit., 31-40). Secoy (op. cit.) notes that while there is some evidence that the Plains Apache may have shifted through both systems, being hunter-gatherers prior to the arrival of horses, by the time the evidence lets us see clearly (which is shortly post-horse) they are subsisting by shifting annually between sedentary agricultural racheirias (from the Spring to about August) and hunting bison on the plains during the fall.

...Bison hunting on foot required a lot of cooperation (so a group) and it seems clear that it was not enough to support a group on its own and had to be supplemented somehow, at least before the arrival of the horse. Some mix of either bison+gathering or bison+horticulture was required. Isenberg argues (op. cit.), that at this point the clear advantage was to what he terms the ‘villagers’ – that is the farmer-hunters who lived in villages, rather than the nomadic hunter-gathers. These horticulturists were more numerous and seem quite clearly to have had the better land and living conditions. Essentially the hunter-gatherers stuck on marginal land were mostly hunter-gatherers because they were stuck on marginal land, which created a reinforcing cycle of being stuck on marginal land (the group is weak due to small group size because the land is marginal and because the group is weak, it is only able to hold on to marginal lands). That system was stable without outside disruption. The horse changed everything.

A skilled Native American hunter on a horse, armed with a bow, could hunt bison wildly more effectively than on foot. They could be found more rapidly, followed at speed and shot in relative safety. It is striking that while pedestrian bison hunting was clearly a team effort, a hunter on a horse could potentially hunt effectively alone or in much smaller groups. In turn, that massively increased effectiveness in hunting allowed the Native Americans of the region, once they got enough horses, to go ‘full nomad’ and build a subsistence system focused entirely on hunting bison, supplemented by trading the hides and other products of the bison with the (increasingly sedentary and agrarian) peoples around the edges of the Plains. Many of the common visual markers of Plains Native Americans – the tipi, the travois, the short bow for use from horseback – had existed before among the hunter-gathering peoples, but now spread wore widely as tribes took to horse nomadism and hunting bison full time.

...We’ll come back to this later, but I also want to note here that this also radically changed the military balance between the nomads and the sedentary peoples. The greater effectiveness of bison hunting meant that the horse nomads could maintain larger group sizes (than as hunter-gatherers, although eventually they also came to outnumber their sedentary neighbors, though smallpox – which struck the latter harder than the former – had something to do with that too), while possession of the horse itself was a huge military advantage. Thus by 1830 or so, the Ute and Comanche pushed the Apache off of much of their northern territory, while the Shoshone, some of the earliest adopters of the horse, expanded rapidly north and east over the Northern Plains, driving all before them (Secoy, op. cit., 30-31, 33). Other tribes were compelled to buy, raise or steal horses and adopt the same lifestyle to compete effectively. It was a big deal, we’ll talk about specifics later.

Horse supply in this system could be tricky. Unlike in Mongolia, where there were large numbers of wild horses available for capture, it seems that most Native Americans on the Plains were reliant on trade or horse-raiding (that is, stealing horses from their neighbors) to maintain good horse stocks initially. In the southern plains (particularly areas under the Comanches and Kiowas), the warm year-round temperature and relatively infrequent snowfall allowed those tribes to eventually raise large herds of their own horses for use hunting and as a trade good. While Mongolian horses know to dig in the snow to get the grass underneath, western horses generally do not do this, meaning that they have to be stall-fed in the winter. Consequently in the northern plains, horses remained a valuable trade good and a frequently object of warfare. In both cases, horses were too valuable to be casually eating all of the time and instead Isenberg notes that guarding horses carefully against theft and raiding was one of the key and most time-demanding tasks of life for those tribes which had them.

So to be clear, the Great Plains Native Americans are not living off of their horses, they are using their horses to live off of the bison. The subsistence system isn’t horse based, but bison-based. ...In any event, the arrival of commercial bison hunting along with increasing markets for bison goods drove the entire system into a tailspin much faster than the Plains population would have alone. Bison numbers begin to collapse in the 1860s, wrecking the entire system about a century and a half after it had started. ...Consequently, the Native Americans of the plains make a bad match for the Dothraki in a lot of ways. They don’t maintain population density of the necessary scale. Isenberg (op. cit., 59) presents a chart of this, to assess the impact of the 1780s smallpox epidemics, noting that even before the epidemic, most of the Plains Native American groups numbered in the single-digit thousands, with just a couple over 10,000 individuals.

The largest, the Sioux at 20,000, far less than what we see on the Eurasian Steppe and also less than the 40,000 warriors – and presumably c. 120-150,000 individuals that implies – that Khal Drogo alone supposedly has. They haven’t had access to the horse for nearly as long or have access to the vast supply of them or live in a part of the world where there are simply large herds of wild horses available. They haven’t had long-term direct trade access to major settled cities and their market goods (which expresses itself particularly in relatively low access to metal products). It is also clear that the Dothraki Sea lacks large herds of animals for the Dothraki to hunt as the Native Americans could hunt bison; there are the rare large predators like the hrakkar, but that is it. Mostly importantly, the Plains Native American subsistence system was still sharply in flux and may not have been sustainable in the long term, whereas the Dothraki have been living as they do, apparently for many centuries.

Well, what about Steppe Nomads? The horse is native to the Eurasian Steppe – that is where it evolved and was first domesticated, though the earliest domesticated wild horses were much smaller and weaker (but more robust and self-sufficient) than modern horses. The horse was first domesticated here, on the Eurasian Steppe, by the nomadic peoples there around 3,700 BCE. It seems likely that the nomads of the steppe were riding these horses more or less form the get-go (based on bridle and bit wear patterns on horse bones), but the domesticated horse first shows up in the settled Near East as chariotry (rather than cavalry) around 2000 BCE; true cavalry won’t become prominent in the agrarian world until after the Late Bronze Age Collapse (c. 1200 BCE).

I wanted to start by stressing these dates just to note that the peoples of the Eurasian Steppe had a long time to adapt themselves to a nomadic lifestyle structured around horses and pastoralism, which, as we’ve seen, was not the case for the peoples of the Americas, whose development of a sustainable system of horse nomadism was violently disrupted.

That said, the steppe horse (perhaps more correctly, the steppe pony) is not quite the same as modern domesticated horses. The sorts of horses that occupy stables in Europe or America are the product of centuries of selective breeding for larger and stronger horses. Because those horses were stable fed (that is, fed grains and hay, in addition to grass), they could be bred much larger what a horse fed entirely on grass could support (with the irony that many of those breeds of horses, if released into the wild in their native steppe, would be unable to subsist themselves), because processed grains have much higher nutrition and calorie density than grass. So while most modern horses range between c. 145-180cm tall, the horses of the steppe were substantially smaller, 122-142cm. Again, just to be clear, this is essential because the big chargers and work-horses of the agrarian world cannot sustain themselves purely on grass and the Steppe nomad needs a horse which can feed itself (while we’re on horse-size, mustangs, the feral horses of the Americas, generally occupy the low-end of the horse range as well, typically 142-152cm in height – even when it is clear that their domesticated ancestors were breeds of much larger work horses).

Now just because this subsistence system is built around the horse doesn’t mean it is entirely made up by horses. Even once domesticated, horses aren’t very efficient animals to raise for food. They take too long to gestate (almost a year) and too long to come to maturity (technically a horse can breed at 18 months, but savvy breeders generally avoid breeding horses under three years – and the Mongols were savvy horse breeders). The next most important animal, by far is the sheep. Sheep are one of the oldest domesticated animals (c. 10,000 BC!) and sheep-herding was practiced on the steppe even before the domestication of the horse. Steppe nomads will herd other animals – goats, yaks, cattle – but the core of the subsistence system is focused on these two animals: horses and sheep. Sheep provide all sorts of useful advantages. Like horses, they survive entirely off of the only resource the steppe has in abundance: grass. Sheep gestate for just five months and reach sexual maturity in just six months, which means a small herd of sheep can turn into a large herd of sheep fairly fast (important if you are intending to eat some of them!). Sheep produce meat, wool and (in the case of females) milk, the latter of which can be preserved by being made into cheese or yogurt (but not qumis, as it will curdle, unlike mare’s milk). They also provide lots of dung, which is useful as a heating fuel in the treeless steppe. Essentially, sheep provide a complete survival package for the herder and conveniently, may be herded on foot with low manpower demands.

Now it is worth noting right now that Steppe Nomads have, in essence, two conjoined subsistence systems: there is one system for when they are with their herds and another for purely military movements. Not only the sheep, but also the carts (which are used to move the yurt – the Mongols would call it a ger – the portable structure they live in) can’t move nearly as fast as a Steppe warrior on horseback can. So for swift operational movements – raids, campaigns and so on – the warriors would range out from their camps (and I mean range – often we’re talking about hundreds of miles) to strike a target, leaving the non-warriors (which is to say, women, children and the elderly) back at the camp handling the sheep. For strategic movements, as I understand it, the camps and sheep herds might function as a sort of mobile logistics base that the warriors could operate from. We’ll talk about that in just a moment.

So what is the nomadic diet like? Surely it’s all raw horse-meat straight off of the bone, right? Obviously, no. The biggest part of the diet is dairy products. Mare’s and sheep’s milk could be drunk as milk; mare’s milk (but not sheep’s milk) could also be fermented into what the Mongolians call airag but is more commonly known as qumis after its Turkish name (note that while I am mostly using the Mongols as my source model for this, Turkic Steppe nomads are functioning in pretty much all of the same ways, often merely with different words for what are substantially the same things). But it could also be made into cheese and yogurt [update: Wayne Lee (@MilHist_Lee) notes that mare’s milk cannot be made into yogurt, so the yogurt here would be made from sheep’s milk – further stressing the importance of sheep!] which kept better, or even dried into a powdered form called qurut which could then be remixed with water and boiled to be drunk when it was needed (this being a dried form of yogurt, it would presumably be made from sheep’s milk, as mare’s milk wasn’t used for yogurt). The availability of fresh dairy products was seasonal in much of the steppe; winter snows would make the grass scarce and reduce the food intake of the animals, which in turn reduced their milk production. Thus the value of creating preserved, longer-lasting products.

Of course they did also eat meat, particularly in winter when the dairy products became scarce. Mutton (sheep meat) is by far largest contributor here, but if a horse or oxen or any other animal died or was too old or weak for use, it would be butchered (my understanding is that these days, there is a lot more cattle on Mongolia, but the sources strongly indicate that mutton was the standard Mongolian meat of the pre-modern period). Fresh meat was generally made into soup called shulen (often with millet that might be obtained by trade or raiding with sedentary peoples or even grown on some parts of the steppe) not eaten raw off of the bone. One of our sources, William of Rubruck, observed how a single sheep might feed 50-100 men in the form of mutton soup. Excess meat was dried or made into sausages. On the move, meat could be placed between the rider’s saddle and the horse’s back – the frequent compression of riding, combined with the salinity of the horse’s sweat would produce a dried, salted jerky that would keep for a very long time.

Now, to be clear, Steppe peoples absolutely would eat horse meat, make certain things out of horsehair, and tan horse hides. But horses were also valuable, militarily useful and slow to breed. For reasons we’ll get into a moment, each adult male, if he wanted to be of any use, needed several (at least five). Steppe nomads who found themselves without horses (and other herds, but the horses are crucial for defending the non-horse herds) was likely to get pushed into the marginal forest land to the north of the steppe. While the way of life for the ‘forest people’ had its benefits, it is hard not to notice that forest dwellers who, through military success, gained horses and herds struck out as steppe nomads, while steppe nomads who lost their horses became forest dwellers by last resort (Ratchnevsky, op. cit., 5-7). Evidently, being stuck as one of the ‘forest people’ was less than ideal. In short, horses were valuable, they were the necessary gateway into steppe live and also a scarce resource not to be squandered. All of which is to say, while the Mongols and other Steppe peoples ate horse, they weren’t raising horses for the slaughter, but mostly eating horses that were too old, or were superfluous stallions, or had become injured or lame. It is fairly clear that there were never quite enough good horses to go around.

The other major source of meat, especially when on campaign, but also when in camp, would be hunting. One might expect the mighty Mongols to only hunt the more fearsome game, but the most common animals to hunt were smaller ones like the marmot, although the Mongols would hunt essentially anything on the steppe, including deer, antelope, even bears and tigers. Mongol hunting practices are quite developed (especially the large group hunt known as the nerge, which we’ll talk about when we get to warfare). Hunting, especially hunting small game with a bow from horseback, was a skill a good steppe nomad learned very young; one source describes Mongol boys learning to ride on the backs of sheep and practicing their archery by shooting small game (May, op. cit. 42), which is both adorable and terrifying. Needless to say, a warrior who can drop on arrow at distance onto a marmot while riding at speed on a horse is going to be a quite lethal archer in battle.”

- Bret Devereaux, “That Dothraki Horde, Part II: Subsistence on the Hoof.”

[dragonheartftherpays]

Twi’lek Skin Color Genetics

Hello naughty children, a few weeks ago I spent five hours or so hashing out how Twi’lek skin color works genetically, and now I’m here to make that everyone’s problem. This is going to be a very long post, so I do apologize for that, feel free to hit J on desktop to skip. But it’s interesting, and it’s actually worked for every canon Twi’lek family I’ve tried it for so far (not that there are many to try), so here we go!

And yes, I made APA citations for this. Because I’m a nerd.

How Does Twi’lek Skin Pigmentation Work, Anyway?

Because it’s not as simple as humans. After all, Twi’leks come in a huge range of colors. The first challenge I had to deal with was figuring out how exactly Twi’lek skin coloration works in terms of pigmentation, before I could even start to figure out the genetics behind that.

See, in Earth mammals, most if not all pigmentation comes from melanin. Melanin comes in two forms, eumelanin (black/dark brown) and pheomelanin (reddish), and between the two of them in various concentrations melanin can produce colors ranging between black, brown, gray, red, yellow, and tan (Douma 2008).

Problem: Twi’leks, obviously, come in a lot more colors than that. See, mammals don’t generally produce blue or green pigments. However, you know what does produce green and blue colors? Reptiles and amphibians.

(No, I’m not suggesting Twi’leks are reptiles or amphibians, put that pitchfork down. They can hybridize with Humans, I think it’s pretty solidly canon that they’re mammals.)

So how do reptiles and amphibians produce blue and green colors? Well, instead of their coloration being based solely on melanin like us, many reptiles and amphibians have cells called chromatophores, cells containing certain types of pigments. Chromatophores generally come in three layers, from top to bottom: xanthophores, which contain yellow pigments called pteridines, iridophores, which don’t contain a true pigment but instead contain platelets which reflect mostly bluish light through physical structure and thus act as a blue “pigment,” and melanophores, which produce melanin. The topmost layer can also contain erythrophores, which contain reddish-orange/orange pigments called carotenoids (aka the reason you’re always told that if you eat enough carrots you can turn orange). Between differing amounts of each of these cells and their respective pigments, the three layers of chromatophores can produce a wide array of colors (Douma 2008).

Wide enough to cover all known wild type (naturally occurring, without mutation or intentional genetic manipulation via breeding) Twi’lek skin colors? Let’s find out.

Thanks to Wookieepedia, we do have a list of canon colors Twi’leks can come in, although I take issue with some of them (Twi’lek 2020).

Known wild-type colors: blue, green, tan/pale, orange, pink, purple, teal, yellow Known mutations: Albinism, leucism, red (erythrism?), vitiligo

Cosdra seems to have vitiligo, but it might be paint - it’s hard to tell (Cosdra 2019). Technically, since pink/red eyes do exist as a wild type in Twi’leks, it’s possible Bib Fortuna isn’t actually albino and just happens to have white skin and red eyes, but given how rare white skin seems to be and how he’s portrayed, I’m assuming him to be albino (Bib Fortuna 2020). Leucism, partial loss of pigmentation that most often results in white skin/hair/fur and dark eyes, is also a guess, technically speaking. We see what appears to be leucism in Lyn Me, with “true white” skin and dark eyes, but it’s not confirmed officially; however, due to how rare white skin seems to be, I am comfortable assuming Lyn Me to be an example of a leucistic Twi’lek (if she isn’t, she may instead be an EnEnii genotype with very little melanin production, as discussed later) (Lyn Me 2020).

Wookieepedia claims Twi’leks can have black skin, but it doesn’t have a citation, and I took the time to click through the entire list of canon Twi’lek characters and didn’t find a single black-skinned Twi’lek (”true black,” not dark-skinned). If a Legends character exists with “true black” skin, I feel comfortable assuming that to be an example of a melanism mutation or something similar, rather than a wild type color morph, due to its rarity.

Red being labeled a mutation is interesting, and I believe it’s technically Legends instead of strictly canon material, but I also didn’t find any counterexamples in canon, which leads me to believe it may as well be considered canon (Lethan 2020). I’ll talk more about the “true red” color mutation later in this post.

For now, we have a list of wild type skin colors. Can chromatophores, with variation between the various pigment cells, account for all the different colors Twi’lek skin can take on?

The answer is yes.

I didn’t take the time to chart out a hypothetical melanophore variation chart, since in most phenotypes how much of each type of melanin is present merely affects the saturation and brightness of the dominant color. Anyway, I imagine melanophore genetics would be more similar to human skin color genetics to begin with.

But Dragon, I hear you ask, I don’t see teal on this chart! Patience. We’re getting there. Because in order to talk about teal skin color, we have to talk about the actual genetics - teal comes from two incompletely dominant alleles being expressed together, rather than being a trait with its own allele.

So let’s get into the genetics, then!

The Genetics Behind It All

I’m going to put the Punnett square hell I went through beneath a cut at the bottom of this post for anyone who’s interested in seeing my evidence for this conclusion, and for everyone else I’m just going to put my conclusions.

I’ve assigned each allele an abbreviation, although they don’t display properly on Tumblr because I don’t know how to do subscript and superscript or if Tumblr supports that in the first place:

Ex: Xanthophores (yellow pigment) present. Ee: Erythrophores (reddish-orange/orange pigment) present. En: Neither xanthophores nor erythrophores present/both nonfunctional.

I: Iridophores (blue “pigment”) present. i: Iridophores not present/nonfunctional.

For the purposes of figuring out this system, I actually used a hybrid family, the Lawquanes.

Wait, hold on, why a hybrid family? Well, first off because they’re the ones who started all this, because someone pointed out how the hell did a pink mom and Human dad end up with a teal-and-tan child and an orangey-tan child? So I wanted to answer that question in a way that also fit any other canon Twi’lek families.

However, using this family had another advantage, as I quickly realized: because Cut Lawquane, the father of the children, is Human, we know his genotype for the purposes of the relevant first two layers of chromatophores: he doesn’t have them. He’s homozygous for both non-expression traits: EnEnii. That simplified figuring out the genotypes of the children and his wife a ton - in fact, I’m not sure it would have been possible to extrapolate those answers, if not for the fact that we know his genotype for these traits 100% for certain.

So without putting you through the whole process, this is what I came to:

Suu Lawquane (mother): EeExIi (pink phenotype) Cut Lawquane (father): EnEnii (tan/melanin-only phenotype) Shaeeah Lawquane (daughter): ExEnIi (teal phenotype*) Jek Lawquane (son): EeEnii (orange/tan phenotype**)

* I’m not dealing with the patching Shaeeah has going on because I’m assuming that’s an effect of hybridization on her phenotype, since we haven’t seen markings like that on any canon full-blood Twi’leks. I’m assuming teal to be her “base” phenotype as far as Twi’lek genes go, since teal obviously isn’t a color we see in Humans. ** I’m genuinely not sure whether to call that skin color orange or tan, nor do I know whether Ee or En is dominant or if they even have a simple dominance relationship - more on that in a moment - so I’m leaving that be. The point stands.

So these are the rules of dominance we end up with:

1. I (iridophores present) is dominant over i (no iridophores present/functional). Evidence: Suu Lawquane must be heterozygous Ii in order to have produced both a teal (I phenotype) and tan/orange (i phenotype) child with her homozygous ii husband. Furthermore, Shaeeah would be yellowish-tan if i were dominant over I, since she must be heterozygous due to having a homozygous ii father and yet displaying the I trait as her phenotype.

2. Ex and En are incompletely dominant with each other. Evidence: this is how you get teal children, a mix between blue (EnEn) and green (ExEx). An EeEx x EnEn pairing is capable of producing an ExEn child (Shaeeah), which tracks with this logic.

3. Ee (erythrophores present) is dominant over Ex (xanthophores present). Evidence: Suu Lawquane must be heterozygous EeEx in order to have produced both a teal (ExEn phenotype) and an orange/tan (Ee and/or En phenotype) child with an EnEn husband while still displaying the Ee phenotype (pink) herself. Since she displays a strong Ee phenotype and must also have an Ex allele, the Ee allele must therefore be dominant over the Ex allele.

These rules can be applied to other Twi’lek families, as well - for instance, the Syndullas (not counting Jacen Syndulla, both because he wouldn’t be an interesting addition due to his Twi’lek influence being Also A Green Phenotype and because I will never forgive Rebels for that horrible boring hybrid design) work out to:

Cham Syndulla: EeExii (orange phenotype) Tislera Syndulla: ExExIi or ExExII (green phenotype, not enough data to prove conclusively whether she’s heterozygous Ii or homozygous II) Hera Syndulla: ExExIi (green phenotype)

Because En and Ex are incompletely dominant, neither Tislera nor Hera can be ExEn, and they must be homozygous ExEx because Ee is dominant over Ex. Because Ee is dominant over Ex and his daughter must be homozygous Ex, Cham must therefore be EeEx, showing the Ee phenotype but carrying the recessive Ex allele which he passed on to his daughter.

There is one small problem: We still don’t know for sure the relationship between Ee and En. I just don’t have enough data to figure it out. I went through the entire list of canon Twi’lek characters on Wookieepedia and didn’t find a single family with the right color combinations and enough data to figure it out. I even went through some Clone Wars crowd shots in hopes of finding some, only to discover that apparently the Clone Wars series doesn’t really use child models in their crowd shots, only adults. Maybe someday I’ll go through the entire list of Legends Twi’lek characters in hopes of finding a family with the right genetics to solidify my guesses, but for now, all I have to go on is how common various phenotypes are. Which isn’t perfect, because how common a trait is doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with whether it’s dominant or recessive if it’s an advantageous trait, but it’s all we have. My current hypothesis is that En is dominant over Ee, because blue and tan are both more common phenotypes than purple and orange, but that wouldn’t hold up to the standards of biology by any stretch of the imagination. I simply don’t have enough data to give you a better answer, unfortunately. Maybe some of the new media coming out, like the High Republic series, will give me that - I don’t know. They might not even have a simple dominance relationship; they might be incompletely dominant with each other like Ex and En are, producing bluish-purple, though I find this unlikely given the phenotypes we’ve seen in Star Wars media thus far.

So Why is Red Skin a Mutation?

It’s an oddly specific thing to be labeled a mutation, because you’d think it would just be a variation of the Ee-i phenotype, which normally produces orange or reddish-orange. In order for this to make sense, we have to assume one of two scenarios:

a) Erythrophores in Twi’leks are typically more orange than red, or b) The melanin produced in orange Twi’leks (the Ee-i phenotype) prevents a “true red” from showing as the final skin tone.

In the first option:

1) True red is produced by an erythrophore mutation that causes the carotenoids produced to be more red than normal.

In the second option:

2) True red is produced by a lack of melanin, leaving the final visual color completely dependent on the red/reddish-orange carotenoids rather than mellowing it to orange, or 3) True red is produced by a mutation in the melanophores that cause them to produce only a very red pheomelanin with no eumelanin to balance it out.

Alternatively to both of these:

4) True red is produced by a mutation in the xanthophores in a Twi’lek lacking iridophores (the Ex-i phenotype), causing them to produce a true red pigmentation rather than the yellow pteridines they would normally produce.

Even in Legends, as far as I could find, we don’t have any families of Lethan Twi’leks (Twi’leks with the true red mutation), so I have no evidence to support any of these possibilities (Lethan 2020). However, in any of these cases, the mutation would be rare, not only because the genetic mutation itself is rare, but also because it must occur simultaneously with a specific set of other conditions to produce the true red coloration: 1) and 2) must occur in conjunction with the Ee-i phenotype (and in the case of 1, presumably with melanin that’s light enough to not obscure the true red coloration), 3) must occur either with the Ee-i or En-i phenotype, and 4) must occur in conjunction with the Ex-i phenotype. Since I is dominant over i and seems to be the more common trait, that helps explain why the true red mutation(s) is/are so rare.

Bonus: Why Do Twi’leks Come In So Many Colors, Anyway?

(This section is entirely conjecture and headcanon on my part.)

Because, really, most species tend to consolidate until they’re almost identical color-wise, because the environment tends to select for a given color scheme. However, there are instances in which this is not the case. Personally, my headcanon explanation for this is that Twi’leks as a species tend to have a preference for the unique - if you’re the only person in a group with your skin color (or some other notable physical characteristic), you’re more likely to be found attractive than if you’re in a group of people with the same skin color (or other physical characteristic). This is a form of negative frequency-dependent selection, in which the fitness of a given trait or genotype decreases as it becomes more common (Frequency-Dependent Selection 2020). Negative frequency-dependent selection is itself a form of balancing selection, which serves to actively maintain multiple alleles in a population rather than selecting preferentially for one trait (Balancing Selection 2020).

(What’s the evolutionary advantage behind finding the unique attractive? Who knows. But the point is, it is feasible, and negative frequency-dependent selection is something we see out in the real world.)

In Conclusion

In conclusion, it turns out there actually is a system that works consistently to predict the genotypes and phenotypes of Twi’lek families, with the small exception of not having enough data to determine the dominance relationship in one out of the four allele pair relationships yet. If you know of a canon or Legends Twi’lek family, feel free to try to apply this! If it doesn’t seem to work, feel free to poke me about it, and I’ll see if I can make it work - if I can’t, I’ll have to take another look at the system. (Heck, apply it to your own OCs and see if it works, if you want - or use it to predict offspring traits of various pairings, if you like.) I learned a good bit about chromatophores and pigmentation in animal biology while doing this, and I hope you enjoyed the ride and maybe learned something too. Reblogs are always appreciated if you enjoyed yourself, found this interesting, or learned something! Thank you for reading! (And don’t forget, if you’re interested in reading about the process of how I figured all this out, the screenshots of that are below the cut!)

References

Bib Fortuna. (2020, April 4). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Bib_Fortuna.

Balancing Selection. (2020, April 18). In Wikipedia. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Balancing_selection.

Cosdra. (2019, September 9). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Cosdra.

Douma, M., curator. (2008). Biological Pigments. In Cause of Color. Retrieved 30 March 2020 from http://www.webexhibits.org/causesofcolor/7I.html.

Frequency-Dependent Selection. (2020, April 15). In Wikipedia. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frequency-dependent_selection.

Lethan. (2020, April 13). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lethan

Lyn Me. (2020, April 4). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lyn_Me.

Twi'lek. (2020, April 20). In Wookieepedia: the Star Wars Wiki. Retrieved April 20, 2020, from https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Twi%27lek.

Bonus: The Process

Because y’all deserve to see my screaming in full. This was a five-hour process, do remember. Everything from hereonout has been just copy-pasted from the Discord server where I liveblogged the process of figuring this system out. Some things I said at various points were wrong, because that’s how the process works. Please note that I was also using different notation for the top-layer alleles at this point: E instead of Ee, X instead of Ex, and e instead of En. This did get confusing at one point because I forgot that it was X (Ex) and e (En) that had the more complicated dominance relationship and not E (Ee) and e (En), which was my fault.

[madsthewordclown]

Fire Lily | Pt. 12

warnings: none

a/n: Sorry this took me this long, guys! I’m back in school and am a little bit busier now, but I promise I’ll update as much as I can! Be warned that I did write a portion of this chapter with Can We Sing the Darkness to Light in my brain (it’s a choral piece and I’m a nerd lol) and so I probably found some of what I wrote a lot more emotionally compelling than it is due to my fragile state of mind when I hear a good tenor part. Whoops.

This chapter takes place during “The Headband.” The story kind of stalls for a bit here in the aftermath of Crossroads of Destiny, so I’m sorry about that, but I promise I’ve got some more exciting things planned for later!

Fire Lily Masterlist

The Fire Nation was weird. It was a thought that Y/N couldn’t get out of her head. Everywhere Y/N had been in the Earth Kingdom (besides Ba Sing Se, which was strange and creepy within its own right), had had the shadow of war looming over it constantly. Here, it was like it didn’t exist.

There was no fear in the Fire Nation, not like there was in the Earth Kingdom, and nothing like what Katara and Sokka had described about the Southern Water Tribe. Here, they weren’t constantly on alert. They could relax. Somehow, the Fire Nation had always been on the offensive. These people didn’t know what it was like, hearing about armies creeping closer to your home.

It was also strange to think about how Zuko lived there. The Fire Nation was his home. Y/N was letting herself think about Zuko now, every once in a while. She let herself think about Jet, too. She thought of him every time she picked up her swords to spar with Sokka. She thought of him every time she lit their fire at night.

They were staying in a cave outside of the village, and it gave Y/N the heebie-jeebies. She didn’t like how dark and damp it was, and it made her feel trapped. Toph felt right at home, surrounded on all sides by earth. Meanwhile, Sokka couldn’t get past the threat of “enemy birds.”

“They’re Fire Nation birds, guys,” Sokka insisted, waving his arms frantically to deter the birds in question.

“They’re birds, Sokka,” Katara corrected, rolling her eyes.

“So, this is how it’s going to be until the invasion.” Sokka looked around at their surroundings—the cave, some rocks, grass.

“Hiding in cave after cave after cave…” Y/N shuddered, glaring at the mouth of the cave.

“We don’t need to be cave people,” Katara said, putting a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “What we need is some new clothes.”

“Yeah,” Aang agreed, “blending in is better than hiding out. We’ll be safer with Fire Nation disguises.”

As much as Y/N hated wearing Fire Nation clothes, she hated constant cave-living more. “I like that plan.”

“We don’t want to sit around and eat cave hoppers,” Toph said, hitting the cave wall. A few of the bugs came tumbling onto the ground, and Momo scooped one up and ate it with a chomp. Y/N winced. “They have much better food out there.”

“Well, where are we going to get clothes?” Sokka questioned, crossing his arms. “We don’t have nearly enough money.”

Y/N thought for a moment. “We could just steal some. I thought I saw some clotheslines when we flew in.”

The others stared at her for a moment.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?” Y/N added, uncertainly. Yes, they were the “good guys,” but they also needed clothes, and no one had any better ideas.

“Okay,” Katara agreed quickly. “Let’s go.”

---

As it turned out, stealing had been very fun. Y/N wondered briefly if that made her a bad person, but she had managed to find a ribbon for her hair, and the feeling of having it away from her face made her question her morals a lot less.

Y/N did try her best to find something that wasn’t red, to no avail. Soon, they were all clad in their Fire Nation getup. It felt a lot better than the soldier’s uniform, but Y/N still wasn’t sold on the red. Sokka and Aang seemed to be enjoying themselves, though, and Aang seemed a lot less upset about covering up his arrow.

Y/N was very unsure about the sleeveless red top and dark grey pants that she was left with. But it was definitely better than her tattered dress, and the ensemble was easier to move in. She liked how her arms were completely free, and the long pants made the grass let scratchy.

Katara and Toph looked great in their outfits, although Katara did seem upset about having to remove her necklace, and Toph had already punched the soles out of her new shoes. They made the unanimous decision to go into town and get some shopping done with the money they had left.

“Here.” Y/N took her own money out of her bag, as well as the gold cup with her family crest. “We can all use this. I don’t really need it anymore.”

It was time to let go of the cup. It would be useful to them, at least. And there were plenty more heirlooms in her family. And now, standing side by side with the Avatar, two of the most powerful benders in the world, and Sokka, in his genius, Y/N felt more confident than ever that maybe she’d be able to make it back home. Her father could forgive her for getting rid of the cup. Her mother thought it was ugly, anyway.

“Are you sure?” Aang asked with some concern. Y/N nodded.

“It’ll be more useful to us if we trade it,” Y/N insisted. Besides, the cup was just another reminder of Ba Sing Se.

“Wait.” Katara stopped Y/N as the others turned to leave. “Your hair. The ponytail is too low. The Fire Nation has them higher.”

“Oh.” Y/N didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it. She pulled the deep red ribbon out of her hair.

“Here, let me help,” Katara said, pulling the ribbon from Y/N’s hands. Y/N was tall, so she had to crouch a bit, allowing Katara to secure her hair into a ponytail that sat towards the crown of her head.

“Better,” Katara hummed approvingly. She took Y/N’s hand. “Now let’s go.”

The village they were in was vibrant and peaceful, Y/N noticed. There were plenty of people around, and Y/N hadn’t seen any soldiers yet. The group decided it was safe to split up if they wanted to. Y/N followed Toph and Katara to a jewelry booth.

Y/N helped Katara pick out a new necklace, and Toph donned a small crown. Y/N was a bit surprised—Toph didn’t seem like the type to appreciate jewelry. Y/N bought a set of matching gold bangles to put on her wrists.

“You know,” Katara suggested as she secured the necklace around her throat, “we could get you something for your swords. I know Jet had something like that.” Katara’s voice caught on Jet’s name for just a moment before recovering.

It would very useful, Y/N knew. She could always bend, but she felt like Katara could tell she had mixed feelings about it. Plus, she knew more about wielding the swords than proper firebending.

After a lot of scouring, Toph managed to locate a store for weaponry. Y/N asked the shopkeeper for advice on what to look for. He had seemed confused for a moment, and Y/N remembered that hook swords probably weren’t a common choice here—she had read once in her library that they were a traditional weapon from the northern Earth Kingdom. But luckily, the shopkeeper hadn’t asked any questions and directed her to the right area.

Y/N ended up settling on a belt-like sheath, with two loops at her hips that the hooked points of the sword easily fit through, but it would get stuck at the handle, holding the swords securely but still allowing for Y/N to pull them out without much trouble.

“Six gold pieces,” the shopkeeper said in an unnecessarily loud voice. Y/N frowned. They only had a few silver pieces and the cup left, and Sokka and Aang had the rest of the money. Y/N pulled the cup out of her bag and set it on the counter.

“I’ll trade this for it.” The shopkeeper’s eyes widened.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, eyeing the piece. It looked as if he thought it was fake; he picked it up and tapped it on the counter a few times.

“I’m from the colonies,” Y/N said. It wasn’t a complete lie. Technically, she was. The man gave her a brief look of disgust.

“It’s worth more than what you’re asking,” Y/N pressed, tapping a beat on the counter impatiently. She hoped he wouldn’t ask more questions or say anything about what his sour face was for.

“Deal,” the man said finally, taking the cup and stashing it behind the counter. Y/N felt surprisingly little as she watched it disappear from sight, and any wisps of sadness were expunged when she secured the belt around her waist.

Y/N walked back with Katara and Toph to their cave hideout. Sokka was already waiting, but Aang was nowhere to be found.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Y/N reassured. “There aren’t very many soldiers in this village, and his tattoos are covered.”

“Yeah, Twinkle Toes can handle himself,” Toph agreed, plopping down onto the grass.

“Hey, Y/N?” Sokka called, waving his arm. “Want to look over some of these plans with me?”

Before Y/N could respond, Katara was speaking. “You never ask me to help you with that stuff.”

“Hey,” Sokka protested. “You and Aang and Toph handle the bending, and Y/N and I will handle the plans. No offense, Y/N.”

“None taken.” Y/N knew her bending was almost useless—she could light their fire at night, but other than that she only knew a few basic moves. In a true bending fight, she was done for.

Y/N walked over to join Sokka, sitting on the grass in front of a rock that he was using as a makeshift table. Y/N was a bender, sure, but it was nice to have a non-bender around. Y/N wasn’t comfortable with her bending like the others, who were all masters of their own elements when she had never even had a formal teacher.

“I tried looking into that boiling rock you were talking about a bit more,” Sokka explained, spreading a map across the rock that he hadn’t shown her before. It was an older map of the Fire Nation—Y/N wasn’t sure where he got it.

“I couldn’t come up with much, but my guess is somewhere like that would probably be in one of the more volcanic regions of the Fire Nation.”

“But why would my brother be in the Fire Nation?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“What?” Sokka looked at her in confusion, an eyebrow raised. “You’re looking for your brother?”

“Um…” Y/N hummed awkwardly. “Yeah. He was arrested by the Fire Nation before I left home. I had a weird dream a few days ago, and he said something about a boiling rock.” She could tell Sokka was looking at her sympathetically, although she made a point to focus her eyes on the map.

“I know it’s a long shot,” Y/N acknowledged, “but I thought I’d at least try.”

“No, I totally get it,” Sokka shrugged. “You want him to be safe. I get that. He’s your brother.”

“I feel like it’s my fault,” Y/N admitted. “I didn’t help him. I actually made the situation worse.” Y/N gave a dry laugh. “I don’t know if he’d want to see me.”

“Of course he wants to see you.” Sokka looked affronted. “He’s your brother, and you’re supposed to take care of each other.”

“Yes,” Y/N groaned, “but I didn’t!”

“He’s your older brother, right?” Sokka clarified, his head echoing your nod in response.

“Well,” Sokka paused, as if searching for the right words, “as an older brother, I’m sure he wants to see you. And Y/N, I know it’s hard when you want to protect someone, and you fail.” Sokka’s eyes were filled with a sadness that made Y/N want to reach out and hug him, but she held off.

“But that doesn’t mean that that person is going to be angry at you,” Sokka continued carefully. Y/N felt like he was reassuring himself as much as he was her. “And even if you fail, you can keep doing everything you can to protect the people you care about. And I’m sure that he wants to do the same for you.”

“Thanks, Sokka,” Y/N said softly, her eyes beginning to water. Before she could back away, Sokka was pulling her into a hug.

Y/N hugged him back. She realized she hadn’t hugged anyone since… well, before she left home. They stayed there for a moment, before Sokka pulled away.

“Ready to review my schedule?” Sokka asked, suddenly upbeat. He unrolled a scroll that spread all the way across the rock and down onto the grass.

“Oh my…” The entire thing was color-coded. Y/N wondered where he got the ink for that. “Hand me a pen.”

Sokka smiled as they went to work.

---

Aang returned to camp later in the afternoon and was properly lectured by Katara. Sokka was completely appalled.

“You’re enrolled in Fire Nation school?” Sokka asked for the tenth time. Aang’s answer didn’t change.

“Yes. And we learn about the secret river tomorrow!” Aang reminded them. The secret river was the only thing getting Sokka to moderately accept the idea. Y/N thought Sokka was too easily persuaded by weird sneak-attack opportunities. “But I can’t go back unless I bring my parents to meet with the headmaster right now.”

“Y/N can be a pretty convincing actress,” Toph suggested. “Not for me, since I can tell when you’re lying, but others seem pretty convinced.”

“Sokka, Y/N,” Aang pleaded, “will you pretend to be my parents?”

“Sure,” Y/N agreed. If Aang really wanted to go to this school, she would help. She remembered how much she wished she could go to school. While it was still far from a normal experience… Aang deserved to have some fun like a regular kid.

“I don’t know,” Sokka murmured, looking contemplative.

“Secret river, Sokka!”

“Fine,” Sokka gave in. “But first we need to get our disguises!”

“Disguises?” Y/N echoed, but Sokka was already running off, Aang following enthusiastically behind him.

When Sokka and Aang returned, Y/N almost died from laughter. The beard plastered to Sokka’s face was ridiculous. She had no clue where he got it.

“Y/N, make your hair look more mature and put this in your shirt,” Sokka ordered, holding out a bundle of cloth fashioned into a smooth round shape. It looked like a bag stuff with wool.

“What?”

Sokka sighed exasperatedly. “Do you want to be convincing or not?”

“Fine.”

Y/N felt ridiculous and was pretty sure she looked almost as ridiculous as Sokka as Aang led them into the school building. Y/N noticed how everything inside seemed a little bit short, and portraits of Fire Lord Ozai hung on the walls, Fire Nation insignias everywhere. Y/N had never seen the Fire Lord’s face before until Aang had brought back his macaroni portrait.

Zuko didn’t look like him, Y/N noticed. Ozai’s face was sharp—Zuko’s was kinder. But Y/N found herself imagining Zuko on that poster, with his shaggy hair and scar, and that look on his face when he fired at the Avatar.

Y/N took a seat with Sokka and Aang as they entered the headmaster’s office. The headmaster was a severe-looking man with the same beard, sideburns, and thin mustache that all of the Fire Nation men Y/N had met seemed to have. He greeted them as they took their seats.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. and Mrs…”

“Fire,” Sokka replied haughtily. His accent was atrocious. “Wang Fire.” Y/N held back a snort.

“And this is my wife,” Sokka gestured to Y/N, “Sapphire.”

It took everything in Y/N’s power to not roll her eyes. “Sapphire Fire. Nice to meet you.”

“Well, Mr. and Mrs.,” the headmaster paused, “Fire. Your son has been enrolled here for two days and is already causing problems. He’s argued with his history teacher, disrupted music class, and roughed up my star pupil.”

“That doesn’t sound like our Kuzon!” Y/N said, giving Aang a discrete bump of her elbow when he smiled.

“That’s what any mother would say, ma’am,” the headmaster responded. “Nonetheless, you’re forewarned. If we continue to have problems, I’ll have to send him to reform school.”

“Reform school?” Y/N asked.

“By that, I mean the coal mines.” The headmaster stood, glaring down at them.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Headmaster,” Sokka said. Y/N wanted to facepalm. “I’ll straighten this boy out something fierce!” Sokka turned to Aang. “Young man, when we get home, you’re in for the punishment of a lifetime!”

The headmaster seemed rather satisfied with that response, nodding with a slight smirk.

“Thank you for informing us of our son’s behavior,” Y/N told him, trying to sound professional to make up for Sokka’s over-the-top character. “Goodbye.”

“Success!” Sokka cheered as soon as they were out of earshot. Y/N punched his arm.

“Wang Fire?” Y/N questioned incredulously.

“What? It’s a good name!” Sokka whined, rubbing the spot on his arm.

“Sapphire Fire?” Aang added with a smirk.

“Okay, so maybe that one wasn’t my best,” Sokka admitted, stroking his beard.

“Will you please get rid of that thing?” Y/N already didn’t like how much Sokka was enjoying his fake facial hair.

“Never,” Sokka replied with a smile.

Fire Lily Masterlist

taglist: @kaylove12, @akariblue, @wolfiemichele, @aquatickanye, @sunflowerr-mami, @nadiblue. @la3divine, @sarsky, @aangsupremacy 

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, king-peeta!

Happy Birthday, @king-peeta! We hope you’re having a wonderful day so far, and that you’ve got some awesome cake to look forward to later! To start your special day off right, the lovely @norbertsmom has written a story just for you!

Author’s note: Happy birthday @king-peeta. I hope you enjoy your High school au - popular!katniss and nerd!peeta fic. This fic is inspired by the movie Grease 2. Special thanks go out to my beta and my bestie, @mega-aulover.

Senioritis

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

I’m leaning against my hand-me-down car in the senior student parking lot when my friend Delly pulls up in her pink convertible. She and all the other blonde haired, blue eyed cheerleaders held several car washes this past summer to raise the money to purchase that car and have it painted pink. Since the parking lot is so small, only seniors are allowed to park in it, so it’s somewhat of a rite of passage to drive to school senior year. The cheerleaders wanted to show up in style, or so Delly told me.

Delly and the rest of the squad hop out of their car with more excitement than anyone should have on the first day of school. The other girls gather around us as Delly gives me a crushing hug. 

 She releases me and asks, “What do you think, Peeta? Ready to rule this school?” The other cheerleaders cheer in answer as if she asked them the question.

 I shake my head and chuckle. “I’m not ruling anything, Delly,” I reply. A pout forms on Delly’s lips, but before she can start her rebuttal, the roar of approaching engines grabs our attention. Delly wraps her arm around my waist as we turn toward the sound. She stands up on her tiptoes to see over the other kids in the parking lot while the other girls climb up to stand on the seats of their car to get a better look. 

 A line of motorcycles is weaving its way through the parking lot, drawing everyone’s attention. As they drive past, the cheerleaders squeal and wave then start whispering among themselves, but the riders don’t seem to notice. They pull into the row to the right of us. 

 As the riders dismount, I look through the crowd for my first glimpse of the girl I’ve been staring at since kindergarten. But I don’t see the object of my hidden affection. I look away thinking of how beautiful she is with the voice of an angel, although she doesn’t sing much anymore. The Mockingjays are the popular kids at school and they all stick together. You’d think that the jocks and the cheerleaders would be tops, but there’s something about a motorcycle club that makes everyone want to be a part of it.

 The motorcycle closest to us is painted a matte black. It matches the rider’s outfit of black boots, jeans, and jacket. He removes his helmet and pulls out a comb from his back pocket and runs it through his slicked back black hair. Another rider, much taller than him approaches and slaps him on the back in greeting. The two boys could be brothers with their matching olive skin and grey eyes, but it’s a common look of the people from the Seam neighborhood. Just like most of the people from town have blond hair and blue eyes, me included. 

 I recognize the taller of the two as Gale Hawthorne, resident bad boy, and object of many girls’ affections. The cheerleaders call out “Hi Gale” in unison, but he doesn’t look their way. The other boy, Thom, looks over at us and frowns. I’m not sure what we did to deserve that reaction, but I look past him. I’m hoping to see one person in particular. 

 The next motorcycle is painted glossy black with red pin-stripes down the fenders. On the side of the gas tank is a picture of two axes crossed at the handles. The rider is wearing black combat boots, red tights, a short black skirt, and a black jean jacket. She gets off and removes her helmet to reveal short black hair tipped with red. She scrunches up her hair and makes it stand up in spikes. She looks up at the cheerleaders and gives a wide toothy smile. The girls jump up and down and wave. She quickly turns her hand around and flips them off making the girls gasp in surprise. She smirks and saunters off to link her arm with Thom and drags him toward the school entrance behind the other riders heading that way. Gale smiles and shakes his head. He watches them leave before he turns his attention to the last motorcycle that’s just pulling up. 

 The motorcycle is forest green with a golden bow and arrow painted on the gas tank. The rider is the smallest of the bunch and can only be the one and only Katniss Everdeen, my secret crush. Her worn brown leather boots are laced up to her knees over black skinny jeans. She’s wearing the same oversized brown leather jackets she’s had since the sixth grade. She takes off her helmet and her thick black braid falls down her back. 

 When she gets off her bike, Katniss looks over in my direction and we lock eyes for the first time. I hold my breath, wondering what to do next. I don’t know what I could possibly say to her if she ever spoke to me. I’m not cool like Gale or the other Mockingjays. 

 Gale leans down and whispers in her ear and her cheeks turn pink. She scowls as he drapes his arm over her shoulder. She elbows him in the side and ducks under his arm then storms off toward the school as Gale laughs and rubs his side as he struts toward the school behind her. I think I hear a few sighs from the cheerleaders as Gale walks away.

 The first warning bell goes off, so we have to start heading into school. Delly drops her arm from around my waist and joins her squad in front of her car. “See you at lunch, Peeta,” she says as the girls wave to me and saunter off. Many of the boys from the cars around us rush to catch up to the cheerleaders and follow them. With a sigh I pick up my backpack and head into school, joining the mass of students.   

 This year is my last chance to talk to Katniss Everdeen. I’m just going to have to figure out how to do it. 

 ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

 School goes on as I had expected. No great change from years past. Freshmen get lost, underclassmen get bullied by seniors who were bullied themselves in previous years, and the teachers are already counting down to the first vacation. I share 2 classes with Katniss, so it’s not as if I never see her. She sits two rows in front of me in literature and 3 rows over in history, but I have yet to work up the nerve to talk to her.

 A few days later, Delly leans over the lunch table before the others arrive and whispers, “I know where Katniss is going to be on tonight.” Delly discovered my crush on Katniss a few years ago and has been scheming to get us together ever since.

 “So do I, Delly,” I reply. “She’ll be wherever Gale Hawthorne is.”

 “Nope,” Delly replies as she tears the lid off of her salad and starts picking out the olives. “Well, I guess, technically, yes Gale will be there, but Katniss is not with him; she never was.” She turns her head back and forth looking for eavesdroppers then gives me a sly smile. “ Katniss and the other Mockingjays are in an archery league at the rec center. They practice every night at 6 pm, with competitions every Thursday night.”

 “What am I supposed to do with this information?” I ask and tear into my sandwich. “It’s not like I can just join their league,” I say around a mouthful of food.

 “First, gross,” Delly says. “Second, you don’t need to join their league. You, me, and a few of our friends are going to work out at the rec center at 7. You’ll be showing up just as they’re getting ready to leave. It’s brilliant.”

 “I don’t know, Delly,” I try to argue, but she’s not having it.

 “We’re going, Peeta,” she says with all the authority of a head cheerleader. Usually she’s so sweet, but she can be fierce when she’s determined. “You said you want to talk to her this year. This is your chance.”

 “Okay,” I agree, but I have a bad feeling about this.

 We make arrangements to meet at the rec center since I have to work after school, and Delly has cheerleading practice.I might show up a little early just to watch Katniss before I get humiliated trying to talk to her.

 Katniss’ POV

 After dropping Prim off at middle school, I join the rest of the Mockingjays in Panem High’s senior parking lot. Johanna’s flipping off the cheerleaders as I pull up and Poor Thom is staring at them. Gale is teasing Thom about his crush on the head cheerleader, as if someone from that bubbly world would go for one of us lowly Seam kids. Johanna takes Thom by the arm and drags him into the school.

 When I get off my bike I look over toward the cheerleaders and see Delly Cartwright with her arm around Peeta Mellark’s waist. Figures they’re together. Poor Thom doesn’t stand a chance. 

 I momentarily lock eyes with Peeta, and I’m thrown back to that fateful night six years ago. After my father died, Peeta Mellark was the only person to help us. Without him, we would have died of starvation. And I never thanked him.

 Gale puts his arm around my shoulder, and he whispers in my ear, “Don’t you wish you were a cheerleader, Catnip?” 

 I feel my cheeks burn and tear my eyes away from Peeta. It’s too late to thank him now, he probably doesn’t even remember tossing me that bread. I don’t let Gale see that his statement bothers me, so I elbow him in the side and stalk off to class. I don’t know why I put up with him, but us Seam kids gotta stick together. I can’t wait until archery practice when I can shoot something. 

 School was the same as always, but after I get Prim home and we eat dinner I head up to the rec center for practice. I’m glad they have lockers to keep our equipment because I’d never be able to carry my bow case on my bike. 

 “Hey, Everdeen,” Johanna calls out to me as soon as I enter the building. She and Leevy already have their cases out of the lockers and are checking us in with reception. When I come back out with mine, Thom and Gale are also ready to go.

 Practice goes as usual. We all shoot at the same time to keep us comfortable shooting close to other people, then we shoot in order. 

 Leevy goes first, since she’s the newest member on the team, then Thom, then Johanna. 

 “If we were throwing axes, I’d be the anchor here,” Johanna gripes after her turn.

 “You’ll do great at the competition,” Leevy tells her. 

 “You just need to show up those rich kids,” Thom chimes in. That makes Johanna smile. 

 Gale is next, but he decides to challenge me for the anchor spot, so we have a shoot-out. 

 “I’ll take over the anchor spot one of these days,” Gale grumbled as we’re walking out of the archery range back into the lobby. 

 I check the clock and realize that we have only a few minutes before those perky cheerleaders get here at 7. I don’t want to run into them again. I overheard Delly telling one of the other girls in class today that she invited Peeta to join in their work out tonight. I don’t know if I could take seeing him in workout gear. He gets me so flustered at school as it is.

 “Any time, Hawthorne,” I tell Gale, because truthfully, his competitiveness keeps me motivated. I need to be my best if I’m to make the archery team at Panem U next year. I’ll need that scholarship to pay for my tuition. 

 Our first competition is next Thursday. Those rich kids from Capitol prep, with their top end equipment always give us a run for our money. 

 “Any time? How about this Saturday. I take you out to lookout point. You give me pointers on shooting.”

  “No thanks, Gale,” I tell him and push him away, because really, I don’t have time to date anyone, even if I wanted to. 

 “Seriously Catnip,” he says as he puts his arm around my shoulder. “You gotta date one of us Mockingjays. We rule this school, and since I’m the leader, and you’re the best archer, for now,” he says with a pointed look. “You and I belong together.”

 “What do you mean, I gotta date one of the Mockingjays? Since when do you think you can tell me who I can date? That’s up to me,” I tell him, because seriously, who does he think he is? “You have no say in who I spend my time with.” 

 “Yeah, you tell him,” Jo joins in. “She can kiss anyone she wants to.” Leevy nods her head in agreement and Thom is looking uncomfortable at this discussion.

 “Oh yeah? Who you gonna kiss, Catnip?”

 I wasn’t planning on kissing anyone, but Gale’s arrogance is making me mad. “I can kiss anyone I want,” I tell him. “I’ll kiss the next guy who comes into the lobby.”

 “Anyone?” Gale asks as a big smile comes across his face as he stares out the entrance doors into the parking lot. 

 I look out to see what’s made him smile and I see that creepy old security guard Cray walking up toward the door. Great. He’s always saying inappropriate things to the young girls who come into the rec center, but I’ll do it if it means putting Gale in his place. 

 I turn back and look up at Gale, “Anyone.” I set my bow case down and stomp over to the side of the door. If I catch old Cray off guard, maybe he won’t know what hit him and I can get away real quick.

 “Go get him, Catnip,” Gale taunts as he elbows an uncomfortable Thom. Leevy looks nervous and Jo just looks angry.

 I’m standing off to the side, waiting for Cray to come in. I can’t see him because I don’t want him to have any clue that I’m waiting for him. I brace myself when I feel the pressure change as the outside door opens. 

 Leevy squeals and I look over at the others. 

 I watch curiously as that smug smile falls off of Gale’s face. He almost looks angry. Jo is standing beside him laughing and yells, “Go get him, girl!”

 The inside doors open, and I step in front of the person entering. And look up into not the gray eyes of old Cray, but the brilliant blues of Peeta Mellark.

 Peeta looks down and smiles at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but before I lose my nerve, I stand on tiptoe and pull his head down to give him a quick kiss.

 Peeta’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happening. “Oh,” he says just before our lips meet. 

 I’m about to step back and apologize when he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against his body, deepening the kiss. I feel my arms go around his neck and tilt my head to get a better angle. It’s the first time I’ve ever kissed a boy, and all I can register is how hot it makes me feel, warm and curious stirring inside my chest. Each kiss makes my need for more greater.

 It's the sound of Johanna yelling, “Okay, Lovebirds,” that brings us to our senses. I step back and my knees go weak as I disentangle myself from Peeta’s arms. It’s difficult to look at him so I look around and see not only old Cray at the reception desk, but the cheerleading squad is here as well. They must have come in while we were, uh, otherwise occupied. 

 The cheerleading squad is giggling and whispering among themselves and Cray is leering at them. Delly is giving Johanna and Leevy a high five. Thom is shuffling his feet. He can’t keep his eyes off Delly. 

 I shake my head and come to my senses. I can’t let anyone know how much that kiss affected me, so I pat Peeta on the chest and tell him, “Thanks.” I give Gale a smirk and pick up my bow case. 

 Gale has murder in his eyes as his stare goes from me and then to Peeta. 

 I saunter off to the locker-room to put my bow case away to a chorus of blond giggles behind me.

 Peeta’s POV

 I can’t believe my luck. I just wanted to talk to her, and Katniss Everdeen just kissed me. And boy what a kiss it was, so much more that I ever dreamed it would be. 

 I watch as Katniss walks away, too stunned to go after her. I’ll have to talk to her at school tomorrow. 

 “Congratulations, Peeta,” Delly says when she comes bouncing over to me. “I had a feeling she might like you too."

 I rub my hand across the back of my neck. “I don’t know. You think so? Why did she leave then?”

 “Oh, who knows what goes on in her mind. Don’t worry about it. You got this, Peeta.”

 “You got nothing, Mellark,” Gale barks. “She only kissed you on a dare,” he says as he stomps passed me out the door, giving me a shoulder bump as he goes by.

 “What? That kiss was all for a game?” I ask, disappointed. Of course Katniss didn’t mean it.

 “Don’t you believe him,” Johanna Mason says as she comes up. “He’s just a sore loser because she turned him down. I have watched that girl get flustered every time you’re around.” 

 Which shocks me. “Really?” I ask hopefully.

 Delly and Leevy nod yes as Jo continues, “You just have to be patient. She’s a little skittish, but brainless will come around. You’ll see. Just give her time.”

 I smile as I tell her, “Okay. I guess I can live with that.”

[hyunrun]

Dream SMP/Batfam

This is my reasoning for connections between Dream SMP members and the Bats. This was all just for fun, but feel free to give feedback if you’d like! And do say if I’ve made a mistake. I haven’t done everyone, so if there’s anyone else you’d like me to do, lemme know! Please read, I spent a good while on this :D

Batman (Bruce Wayne)/Technoblade: Technoblade's Dream SMP origin story starts with his parents dying, so the backstory fits. He swears to kill all orphans because of the way they killed his parents (Similar to the way Bruce wanted to stop crime from running rampant in Gotham). Techno is also, technically, an orphan as Bruce was. I've always imagined Bruce's voice to be kinda like Techno's, especially that monotone tone he uses, and especially when he's Batman and not Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne is -Bat-man and Technoblade is a pig, need I elaborate? Both of them seem to stay up till ungodly times of the day, and I'm sure their sleep schedules are never on the same clock as anyone else's, Bruce's because of his vigilante lifestyle and Techno because... well, he's a Minecraft YouTuber. Both of them have a father figure, although not biological. They also have a friendly rivalry with a fellow content creator/hero (Cough Dream/Superman cough). We say Dick/Wilbur is dramatic, but you can't possibly mean to tell me Batman/Technoblade isn’t subtly more dramatic. They practically invented being dramatic in their respective businesses.

Alfred Pennyworth/Philza Minecraft: Is the father figure to Batman/Technoblade. Is really a force of chaos but everyone pictures them as a soft, loving dad because we all have parental issues and we need more father figures. Both of them are very badass in their own ways. Old and British. Here's a parallel I thought was pretty cool. Philza had been building up his hardcore world for 5 years before he died. It was like his home disappeared in front of his eyes as he fell away from his life. I'm not sure which continuity/arc this is from (Please do not hate on me, I am but a small child) bUT I do know that Alfred died of a heart attack/stroke at the same time the Wayne Manor was destroyed. His home was destroyed as he died. Just as Philza's had been.

Damian Wayne/TommyInnit: Is never really loved by anyone at first glance (From the fandoms). Tommy's the loud, annoying one, Damian's the grouchy, haughty one. But everyone eventually gravitates towards their characters later on. Their families were wary of them at first but grew to love them. Both of them are the youngest, and generally angriest child. Both are not American, Tommy being British and Damian, Arabic. They both have ICONIC mothers. MotherInnit is a queen, we all know this. If she can handle Tommy, she can handle absolutely anything. Talia Al Ghul has a reputation of her own right, and while she hasn't quite the pristine repertoire, she definitely strikes a strong mark on people. Now, this is a dumb connection between the two, but hair!! Tommy’s seems nice and floofy while Damian's is generally drawn spiky, and I think that's a cool contrast. Their love for pets is also important to note. Tommy's the one that's known for starting wars over the deaths of his pets, and it's easy to know that Damian wouldn't hesitate to hurt someone if they did anything to Titus or Batcow. It’s been shown on multiple occasions that he loves his pets a lot.

Jon Kent/Tubbo_: Best friends with Tommy/Damian. Do not try to argue that Jon and Damian aren't best friends because come onnn. And PLEASE do not take this as a dumb excuse to ship Tommy and Tubbo, as I know people ship Dami and Jon. Both are the embodiment of chaos wrapped in kindness, and both are definitely the more stable of their friendship with the other gremlin children. I am confident that both would probably refer to their parents as mother and father dearest. You cannot convince me otherwise. Tubbo has already done so, and Jon would never disrespect his parents, so this would obviously be the next best alternative for when he is upset by them. Jon’s powers fluctuate upon shifts in emotion and he can’t really control his powers, like the shifting of Tubbo’s alter egos. We never know when Toob or Big Law will creep out of the shadows.

Dick Grayson/Wilbur Soot: (Second) most dramatic in the family, though perceived as the drama queen because of their boisterous personalities. The one that was probably a theatre kid in school. The lighthearted one that keeps everyone cheerful, but also the one with the easiest path to a horrid descent into madness. They have a flair for drama, the glitter and sparkles to Batman/Technoblade’s sombre smoke and haze, which is why they work together so well. The closest family member to Tommy/Damian. Their little brother/big brother dynamics are just impeccable. Both are the most simped for by their respective fanbases (from what I’ve seen). The token pretty boys. Both artistically talented in different ways, with Wilbur’s music and Dick’s acrobatic skills. Also the ones that get constantly shipped with every woman they literally even look at. They also express their dramatic tendencies through their clothes, Dick with his jazzy Discowing suit and Wilbur’s dramatic L’manburg outfit.

Superman/Dream: The OP gods, need I say more? Friendly rivals with Technoblade/Batman. Very often perceived as ‘Perfect’ which they are not, but many refuse to accept that. A funny parallel I drew was the fact that both of them are famous in their own rights, but can just walk around and not get recognised despite millions of people knowing their online/superhero identities. Both are technically not human.

Stephanie (Batgirl/Spoiler)/Sapnap: Both of their names start with S! Not my only reasoning, but I’ll take it into account anyway. Both are basic looking in my head (Blue eyes blonde hair for Steph?? There’s at least 3 other girls that look EXACTLY like her in the nearby DC universes. And Sapnap blends in with every other white boy, though I love him regardless.) but both also have immaculate personalities to make up for it. They’re the most normal people out of all their co-streamers/superheroes in my eyes, also my favourites. (I didn’t realise as I put them together that I loved them most but here we are). They’re both great at dumb banter. They don’t have huge, hilarious bits often or any constant jokes that are pulled on time and time again, but their general atmosphere makes everything seem like a joke. They may not be the best at what they do in their friend groups but are actually really good nonetheless and do not get due credit for their effort and talent sometimes. Has a warring relationship with Damian/Tommy (Sapnap over the pets and Steph and Dami didn’t have the most friendly relationship at the start)

Jason/BBH- Same but opposite but same. Exists to cause chaos. I wouldn’t have associated these two with each other till the Badlands became a thing… but then the Badlands became a thing and I had to. Now, I know that technically Bad doesn’t have a grudge against Techno, but Jason would totally set up a whole empire just to mess with Bruce’s plans, just to get in the way, to instigate, to fan the flames of the fire till he’s driven Bruce to his breaking point. Bad isn’t exactly trying to do that, but he’s only around for the chaos. He’s only here for his own benefit, and he’s only here for that because of the hurt caused to him by the nation he came from. A parallel being Jason causing havoc because of the pain Bruce caused him. Besides, both have a cool red and black colour scheme, and both wear jacket!! Both are also technically not alive (If we're considering BBH as a demon).

Roy Harper/Skeppy: I have absolutely no explanation for this, but it just Fits. Besides, they have cool opposing colour schemes and are best friends with BBH/Jason!!

Aaaand last but not least

Jason/Technoblade: Now you must be thinking But Kaly you already spoke about them! And yes, I did, and they do go really well with their respective characters but I couldn’t simply ignore the connection between these two, so I thought I might as well write about it. Technoblade was an English major (If I remember correctly) before he dropped out to pursue his youtube career. Jason, though this may not be a well-known fact, was a definite literature nerd at school before he met his demise. Their cut off education in English is an interesting parallel to me. Both of them also have destructive tendencies, with Technoblade being an anarchist and Jason periodically running an underground empire to make sure he can do whatever the hell he wants to. They don’t generally care who they hurt on their way to reach their end goal. Jason’s reckless shooting and killing clearly shows this, as he continuously justifies his actions by saying he’s ending crime rather than just making it wait in line for its turn to pop up again, while Technoblade’s release of the withers and excessive use of his firework crossbow clearly shows that the deaths of the residents of L’manburg do not matter to him as long as he abolishes the government.

[wickedmilo]

THE BETTER HAWKEYE | MILO & ORION

PLACE: Outside the University of Maine TIMING: 12:39 AM SUMMARY: Milo runs into Orion and, after not seeing each other in over a month, the two manage to reconnect. WRITING PARTNER: @3starsquinn CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcohol, drug abuse

Milo had always been the type to wander at night, but usually he had a goal in mind. There was always a dealer to meet, a club to go to, a stranger he could go home with. Now, he wandered the streets because he could. Because during the day he was confined to the house, itching to do something, for the sense of freedom he used to have. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly melancholy, he walked past Tower Comics, thinking about the excuses he was going to give his boss when he was ready to return to work. And now he was outside his old college building, staring up at the structure, remembering what it felt like to walk through the doorway, and into a class. Usually late, usually smelling of pot, always with a coffee in his hands. Sparking up a cigarette, he leaned against the brick wall behind him, observing the college from across the quiet street. There was nobody around at this time, despite all of the lights being on. And it was weirdly comforting to reminisce.  

It didn’t take very long for him to be drawn from his memories, though, as a familiar figure began to make his way down the entryway steps. Orion, he would recognise him anywhere. They had attended school together, though Orion had been far too shy to make his acquaintance back then. It was only after getting a job at the comic book store that they really began to get to know each other. His colleagues used to tease him endlessly about the boy’s very obvious crush. But as far as he was concerned, it was pretty harmless. Orion had never once made a move, and he didn’t exactly seem the type. He missed their conversations, he missed the routine of work. Although he had never been one to keep to a schedule, having somewhere to hang out and talk to people away from the nightlife of the town had been nice. He enjoyed it. Pushing away from the wall, it was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop himself from crossing the road. He was feeling relatively mellow. With a handful of pills in his system, freshly fed thanks to Harsh and his generous supply of blood bags, he was in control. He wasn’t a danger. “Hey!” He called, exhaling a breath of smoke. “You do know they don’t give you extra credit for studying in the middle of the night?”  

Some time out of the house would do Orion some good. Following his most recent meltdown, he stayed at the campus library until the sun had fallen. The place was popular for all nighters with college students. He had done his own on multiple occasions, or at the very least used it as an excuse when he was trying to avoid his family. When he finally left the building it was with books tucked beneath his arm and the smell of rain in the air. Incoming rain it smelled like. That, and cigarette smoke. But aside from that, Rio didn’t tell there was another person around at all until the voice called out and scared the crap out of him. He jumped, one of the books slipping through his arm and falling to the ground. “Jesus. Sorry. Hey.” Rio breathed, bending down to grab the book and not even bothering to check who the person was saying hi to him. His cheeks flushed when he finally turned and saw Milo. “Oh. Woah. Hey! It’s been awhile.” Milo had been a familiar and friendly face at the comic book shop. One that Rio remembered fondly from high school even though the two never spoke. He also remembered how flustered he had always been trying to have a conversation with the boy at the comic book shop post graduation. He could remember just how awkward those first few discussions had been until Rio started to get a bit too passionate about the history of comic books. The only thing that could overcome his bad habit of crushing on any guy that was nice to him was how much he loved nerding out over things. 

Luckily for both of them, Rio was a bit less flustered around boys than he used to be. “Ha ha. Very funny. I focus better at night.” Rio shrugged as an explanation. It wasn’t technically a lie, although on this particular night he was just using it as an excuse so he didn’t have to go home. “I haven’t seen you at Towers recently. Do you still work there?” 

Milo felt a wave of guilt when Orion dropped one of his books. He had forgotten how easily flustered he could be. Before he was able to reach down and pick it up, Orion had it securely back under his arm, so he offered him a sheepish grin instead. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he admitted, his version of an apology. He watched, incredibly amused, as his company realised who he was talking to. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he blew the smoke away from where they were standing. “Yeah, I guess it kind of has.” It made him sad sometimes, to remember the simplicity of before. His life had always been turbulent, and unpredictable. But through his own choice. He had still been in control. Tower Comics had been a brief escape from the never ending cycle of getting high, and coming down. He showed up, he stood behind the counter, he sold comics. It was too easy. A quiet laugh escaping him at the mention of being able to focus at night, it felt too relatable given his current circumstance. “Things got a little… weird, for a while.” Like that wasn’t a ridiculous understatement, but he wasn’t sure what else he could say.  

“I, uh- I don’t actually know.” Did he still work there? It had been over a month since he last showed up for a shift, but his boss had always managed to tolerate his bullshit. Missing shifts wasn’t unusual for him. Neither was arriving late for them, sometimes he even left early, slinking away when nobody was around to stop him. He had a feeling if he walked in with an apology and an explanation, he would be able to keep his job. “It’s been like... a month, which is probably not great. But they’ll let me back. I mean- I hope they’ll let me back. Why?” He asked. “Are you still stopping by? Have you been missing me?” He was teasing, but just barely. He genuinely missed Orion, and he liked to think the enjoyment of their conversations had been mutual.  

“It’s fine. I’m notoriously jumpy” Orion admitted with a small laugh. He would have thought that with all the training that he had been doing recently that he might get a bit less anxious. As it turned out, getting rid of that instinct wasn’t going to be easy. As if he needed any other reason to loathe his deceased parents. Now that he had composed himself, he got the chance to study Milo. Rio couldn’t remember how long it had been since the two had talked in the comic book shop, but he knew that it had been awhile. Something about him seemed… different. Physically, he didn’t appear to look very different than he had at Towers, but something was definitely different. Just as Rio was a lot different despite the relatively small change to him physically. Rio’s bleached blonde hair was gone, but he was still stick thin. His baggy hoodie also hid any new muscle definition his training had afforded. “Weird?” Rio questioned. He had an entire list of theories of what Milo might mean by that. This town had no shortage of weird things. But maybe against all odds, Milo’s troubles were completely mundane and non supernatural. “Sorry to hear that. Are things uh- getting better?” 

“Fingers crossed for you. The guy that owns the place seems pretty nice, right?” He had no idea what may contribute to disappearing from work for a month, but he didn’t exactly know Milo that well. The two had been friendly enough at the comic book store, but the friendship hadn’t exactly extended outside of there. “Well I don’t get to rant about comics with anyone else in the store, so yeah for sure. I missed having you to chat to.” Though Rio didn’t go there as much anymore, he had stopped there a few times over the last month or so. Admittedly, Rio had been going there less and less for far longer than a month. While dating Winston, the two stayed busy working at the Scribrary or hanging out with their friends. After Winston left town, Rio had thrown himself into his work. “I drop in when I can! I’ve been busy lately, so I haven’t been able to go as much. But if I knew you were going back I’d definitely try to swing by more often.” He cringed at his own statement. “What have you been up to? Outside of Towers, I mean.” 

Milo continued to smile, feeling a strange sense of affection for his friend. Seeing him outside of the comic book store was a rare occurrence, but it was comforting to know while his life had become so new, and disorientating, it had carried on as usual for other people. The world was still spinning, Orion was still buying comics. Things were going to be okay. Shifting uncomfortably on the spot as Orion observed him, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was being read. In the same way his mom always knew when he was on something, or under the influence, before he had even said a word to her, maybe Orion could see somehow that he had changed. “Yeah,” he laughed, only a hint of bitterness lacing the sound. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he tapped ash absentmindedly. “Really fucking weird.” He admitted. “Don’t be sorry, though. S’not like it’s your fault.” He caught his company’s eye again, showing him his sentiment was sincere. “I mean- I think so?” It was hard to gauge, when everything was still so fresh. But now that Harsh was helping him, now that he had someone there, he didn’t feel so lost. The hopelessness that had been weighing down on him wasn’t quite as heavy as it used to be. “Yeah… yeah, they are.”  

His smile growing at the mention of his boss, he nodded, reaching up to push his hair back away from his face. “He’s pretty chill, I don’t think he’ll mind too much if I just, you know… say I’m sorry.” He knew taking responsibility wasn’t something he was good at, but hopefully his boss would be able to see he was serious this time. This absence wasn’t his fault. “Oh, yeah? Well I’m here now if you need to ramble. Immortal Hulk is still going, right? I don’t suppose you’re caught up?” Raising his eyebrows, he knew it would be unfair to openly tease Orion for his comment, but he couldn’t resist the flirtatious expression. What harm could it do? “So, what you’re saying is I’m the best thing about Tower?” He laughed easily, offering a casual shrug. What have you been up to outside of work shouldn’t be such a loaded question. But how was he supposed to answer? Oh, I died, found out the world I thought I lived in was very much not the world I was living in. Developed a mad craving for blood, hurt one of my closest friends when she randomly decided she wanted to kill me, then shacked up with another vampire who realised I had no idea what was going on… “I’ve, uh- I’ve been around.” He muttered, dropping his cigarette to the floor, grinding it beneath his shoe as an excuse to avoid eye contact. “You?”  

Orion’s brow furrowed as he considered his best course of action. There was still a chance that Milo’s definition of weird was vastly different from Rio’s. “Right. Yeah I know, it’s just- it still sucks. And I’m sorry that it sucks.” Rio rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. At the very least, Milo confirmed that things were getting better. That had to be a plus. If nothing else, there was something positive. He was tired of things only getting worse. He needed to know that things really did get better for some people in this town. “Well I know that we aren’t like uh- you know super close or whatever. But if you ever want to talk about the weird stuff, I’m a great listener.” He hoped that Milo could pick up on the differences between Rio then and Rio now. Back then Rio was far too flustered and infatuated to ever be able to sustain a genuine friendship. He wasn’t nearly as hopeless as he used to be when it came to making friends.  

“Oh! Yeah I think it’s still going. I started it, but I’m behind right now. The series is really interesting, even though I’ve never cared much for Hulk comics. Right now I’m following Strange Academy pretty closely. It has a lot of like, Young Avengers or X-Men school energy. And I’ve always been a sucker for the teen or young adult superhero groups! I’m hooked.” It was comforting to see how easily he was able to slip back into conversation with Milo. Rio groaned at Milo’s very pointed comment. “Well maybe I’m saying you were” Rio laughed, imagining how he would have reacted a year ago if Milo had made the same comment in the store, “Until you disappeared. Now it has to be like the gaming tournaments or something. And I don’t even participate.” With his incredibly vague response, Rio was all but convinced that something very supernatural had occurred in Milo’s life. Teetering the line between nosy and understanding, Rio kept his mouth shut. The two ran into each other out of luck, not exactly the ideal scenario for either to be spilling their secrets to each other. “Me? Well my friend moved out of town and left me in this giant house by myself. So I’ve basically been a hermit for the past two months. So my life is very, very boring.” 

Milo hadn’t been expecting such a genuine apology, it caught him off guard. It was very clear that, despite not being incredibly close, Orion cared about him, and it hit him that he cared about Orion in return. It was strange how easily somebody could become a fixture in your life, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. He felt his throat close, as he fought to suppress whatever emotion was attempting to overwhelm him. It would be embarrassing to explain why he was suddenly choked up. He refused to become the person who cried every time they were offered a shred of kindness. “Thank you…” He said, his voice quiet. He wondered whether it was obvious how touched he was by the sincerity. “That, uh- that means a lot.” Unable to stop a sudden laugh from escaping him, he shook his head, falling back into his usual demeanour. “No, honestly-  you don’t want to hear it. I’d only sound fucking insane, and I kind of brought it on myself, anyway...” Brushing off the comment, he jumped at the chance to talk about comic books. This was an easy subject, this was something he knew.  

“Hm, I’ve heard good things about Strange Academy. Do you know who’s doing the artwork? I know how fucking basic this is but I kind of miss seeing Skottie Young, his variants are always insane.” Grinning, his eyes shining with mischief, he couldn’t help feeling genuinely flattered by Orion’s admission. Not many people saw him as anything more than a waste of potential. It felt good to just be Milo, the kid in Tower Comics who enjoyed making conversation. “I knew it.” He teased. “I’m going to assume the past tense is because I’ve been gone for a month, and not because you’ve changed your mind.” Nodding at the mention of gaming tournaments, he tried to remember whether he had ever attended one. He wasn’t the type to be drawn into the world of comic cons, and gaming. He enjoyed comics because, as far as he was concerned, they were a form of literature. Any extension of that enjoyment never quite managed to capture his attention. “Well, I’d hate for you to settle. I’ll be back soon…” He knew it wasn’t a promise he could make, but he so wanted the statement to be true. “And then your very, very boring life will maybe be a little less boring again.”

Whether it was the scholar in Orion or the side of him that desperately wanted to be better friends with Milo, he absolutely did want to hear more about whatever had been happening in his life. But he also knew enough from his own experiences avoiding a topic that Milo didn’t want to dive into it right now. “Of course. And seriously, anytime. I may be easily panicked but I’m slightly less easily surprised.” That may not exactly be the truth, but when it came to the supernatural it was becoming more and more true. “No pressure or anything. The offer stands for whenever.”  

This definitely didn’t seem like the time though. Instead, Rio enjoyed the comic conversation instead. “Good question. I don’t actually. It looks familiar though I’m sure they’ve done other stuff. I’ll have to look it up.” Rio made a mental note to do some research on it in the morning. “Oh yeah I totally get that! He’s great! I’ve always been a big fan of Jimmy Cheung, but it may just be because of how much I love the Young Avengers. Which I’m sure is annoyingly obvious so I won’t shut up about them.” Nor did he ever plan to. He loved those comics. Loved the idea of rebelling against their parents and the adults trying to hold them back from doing what they thought was right. It resonated with Rio in a way that he was always too cowardly to do for himself. Well, until he murdered his parents apparently.  

“Okay, okay. I admit it. Don’t let it go to your head though.” Rio smiled and raised his hands in surrender of the information. This was all… good. It was nice to be able to hold an actual conversation with him outside of comic books for once. “Well I’ll be on the lookout for that. And maybe sometime we could also do something that wasn’t in a comic book shop too? Like hang out or something?” Rio found himself asking, surprising himself by the suggestion. “In a purely platonic way of course. I mean uh- I don’t like still have a massive crush on you or anything. So this is not me like making a move or whatever.” He sighed, only realizing after that he had basically just admitted to his Milo that pre-Winston, Rio had a crush on the guy. “Not that I ever had a crush! Unless it was super obvious. But even if it was, please for the love of god forget that this last part ever happened.” Jesus. 

Endeared by Orion’s explanation, Milo made a mental note. Maybe he couldn’t tell his friend everything, but it would be nice having somebody he could confide in about certain struggles, even if he did need to be somewhat vague about them. “Maybe, one day…” He offered Rio a warm smile, making it very clear that he meant what he was saying. He wanted to, it just wasn’t quite that easy. Glad of the subject change, he focused on the conversation, thinking back on whether he had ever taken in the name of the artist. “Oh, Cheung is awesome! Whenever I want to imagine what a character would look like for real, I go to his work.” Laughing when Orion mentioned talking endlessly about the Young Avengers, he tried to convey with his expression just how much he enjoyed that fact. It was never an annoyance, hearing someone speak so passionately about the thing they loved. “Definitely not. You could never annoy me.” He insisted, not trusting Orion to accept the sentiment. “See, I’m more of a Jekyll and Hyde kind of guy, maybe that’s why I’m drawn to the Hulk. It’s one of my all time favourite tropes, you know?” Maybe if he took the time to dissect why, he could talk about how he related to the internal struggle, the constant battle between desire and a need to be in control. But that struggle had become much more real to him recently, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it. If he was being entirely honest with himself, he had never been ready to talk about such a personal observation.

“Oh no, it’s too late. It’s gone to my head.” He continued to tease. Raising his eyebrows, he wasn’t expecting the invitation, but he was incredibly grateful to receive it. Any relationships he had cherished before being turned had basically been burned to the ground. He wasn’t sure how to navigate them now. This was a welcome reminder that it was possible, that he could still have friends. Distracted by the blush creeping to Orion’s cheeks, it was the first time since approaching him that he considered the blood coursing through his veins. His skin was flushed, he could hear his heartbeat. It was difficult to ground himself, but he managed. Turning his head away from the direction the wind was blowing, he made an active effort to avoid his scent. As quickly as he had begun to feel normal, any semblance of normalcy was stolen from him. But he refused to get caught up in bitterness, not when he was so close to reclaiming a piece of his old life. Taking a hesitant step backwards, he attempted to frame the movement as casual, carefully fixing a grin back into place. He was genuinely amused by what he was hearing, everything was just so difficult. “Maybe not super obvious.” He assured his company. “But my colleagues might have pointed it out to me.” It was his turn to hold up his hands, more than willing to grant the request. “Already forgotten. And I would seriously love to. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything. I mean, even this is just… a relief. I guess that sounds dumb. I just- I really fucking missed this.” 

Though the conversation was sidelined, Orion grinned at the thought that there was more to Milo’s story. A book that hadn’t completely closed. Rio wasn’t sure that there was a friendship outside of Towers. That it was just a worker passing his workday by humoring the awkward gay kid with a crush on him. Rio was thrilled to learn that was not the case. Or not entirely at least. So the conversation about his mysterious weird experience would be shelved for another time. “I’m so glad that we agree on Jim Cheung’s superiority. I would have given anything to be like Kate Bishop. She was like, the coolest comic book character ever.” He spent a lot of time wishing he was more like Kate Bishop, though her entire character’s premise didn’t fit perfectly. The imperfect family, sure. But Kate’s entire strength was that she was the only non-powered person on an otherwise super team, temporary status of Eli Bradley notwithstanding. Rio’s own super abilities, wanted or not, sort of ruined that desire. He still wished he was as confident as she was. “Ooh! Yes that’s a fascinating trope! Fun fact, Robert Louis Stevenson was actually inspired to write the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde while he was trying to work on a play about an actual person named William Brodie. Apparently this guy, William was like a big figure in his town. City council and all that jazz, but ended up being outed as a thief. Robert was fascinated by how someone who had such a clean public image could do such terrible things.” Rio was partly staring up at the sky now as he rambled on about the history of a book that was already a couple hundred years old. He could tell that the rain was about to start. Compliments of the super senses he couldn’t forget about. “Sorry I uh- get passionate about random history things.” 

Rio tried to fake a serious tone, but he couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh god, I created a monster. You’re never going to let that go are you? You know, I’m sure there’s plenty of other employees at Towers that I could go and annoy.” As much as Rio was enjoying the positive energy, he couldn’t help his face from heating up at openly talking about his old crush. “Oh god. You said that way too nicely. It was definitely super obvious.” Rio sighed. His face was on fire now, and he could only imagine the bright shade of red his cheeks must be. “Thank you for taking pity on me. Because I desperately need this too. I’m very tired of sitting in my house doing nothing all day.” 

“Kate Bishop, huh?” Milo echoed. He had definitely heard Orion talk about her before but hearing about his favourite characters always intrigued him. He had such a way of explaining himself, he could say the same sentence over and over and Milo was fairly certain he would listen regardless. “Poor Barton, just brushed to the side.” He teased, his eyes shining. He didn’t know an awful lot about Kate and her backstory, but more than once he had been flicking through a comic book, only to stumble upon a mention of trying to please an emotionally distant father. Boy, did he know what that felt like. His father hadn’t been absent. In fact, he had many memories of playing catch as a child, of being read bedtime stories, and baking on the days designed for them both to spend time together. But Oliver Summers had never talked about his feelings, and had always made his expectations incredibly clear. The moment his son was able to read on his own, he was expected to. The moment he was able to study on his own, he was expected to. The moment he could fend for himself, cook his own meals, do his own research, he was expected to. It was academia, and independence above all else. And now that he was officially off the rails, he had grown all too familiar with his stern disappointment, shame and frustration often simmering below his carefully arranged expression. “Bishop is pretty cool though, I’ll allow it.” Falling silent again, he recognised the look on Orion’s face and knew he was about to learn something. At the very least, hear about something interesting.  

He could vaguely remember covering the topic at university, but he had been in and out of his classes. Incredibly unreliable, and incredibly not sober. Which made the information feel fresh, and exciting. “Don’t apologise for being passionate.” He hated to think anybody ever made Orion feel bad for sharing the subjects he enjoyed, even if that person was Orion himself. “People are complicated… it’s fascinating, really. I guess you never really know a person’s motivations. Not unless they outright break them down for you.” Grinning suddenly at the choice of phrase, the irony wasn’t lost on him. They were talking about monsters within literature, but hadn’t he also kind of already become one in real life? He would usually wallow in that, but with Orion it felt easy to see the humour. “Maybe you have.” He admitted, mischief lacing his tone. “And no, I am definitely not. You’ve already confirmed I’m the most interesting employee, so if you want to go and bore yourself with the others then I guess I can’t really stop you.” It was impossible not to notice how flushed Orion was, his skin pink with embarrassment as a quiet sigh escaped him. But there was just enough distance between them both for his friend not to feel like a temptation. The last thing he would ever want to do is hurt somebody he cared about. “I’m not taking pity on you, moron. I want to hang out.” He insisted. “And not many people describe me as nice, so I’ll take it. Thank you for the compliment.” He felt guilty for being pleased to hear Orion spent so much of his time alone, but it only justified his decision. He could spend more time with Orion because Orion wanted company. And, Vampire or not, where was the harm in that? 

Orion only shrugged in response to Milo's question about Barton, “Hey Kate said it best herself when she called herself the better Hawkeye. She wouldn’t lie.” The first drop of rain hit against Rio’s forehead. It ran down his face, a welcome drop of cold against the burning skin. He could just barely hair the sounds of droplets hitting against the pavement now. It didn’t seem like it would start pouring right away, but the rain would probably only get heavier from here. In preparation, Rio slid his bag off of his back and opened it, revealing even more books stuff inside. It was a tight squeeze trying to get the books previously held under his arm in. He was just barely able to zip the bag up. It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it would protect against the lighter rain until the conversation with Milo faded. Rio wasn’t in much of a rush to leave right now.  

“Right. Sorry. I’ve been told I over apologize too. Example A, two seconds ago.” Rio had found a decent group of people that had embraced or encouraged his sometimes overbearing passion for history, but each time still came as a surprise. He was used to passive annoyance. A feigned interest in the topic before all too intentionally taking an opportunity to change the subject. But he finally knew people that didn’t do that. He really liked those people. He was just glad Milo was one of those people. “No. Not at all. People always surprise you.” Rio agreed a little too aggressively, eyebrows rising in unison with his emphasis. Hunters were a perfect example of this. Trained to kill, taught to blend in. Some were just better at it than others. “I’m totally going to regret telling you that” Rio rolled his eyes and wiped away at the stream of water running down his face from the rain. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to get all defensive about it. We’ll hang out then. I’m looking forward to it!”  

Milo laughed, he couldn’t really argue with Kate Bishop herself. And though he hadn’t actually read very many of the Hawkeye comics, it was clear Orion knew what he was talking about. “Okay, okay, you win. Kate is the best Hawkeye.” He surrendered, feeling the first drops of rain begin to hit his skin. Glancing up at the night sky, the clouds were dark, and thick. The water was as cool as the night air, and it was a welcome sensation, but he had a suspicion it might be the start of a downpour. He knew it was unfair, expecting Orion to feel the same way about the weather, but he didn’t want to leave just yet. He watched patiently as his friend did his best to save his books, wincing a little as he considered just how heavy his bag must be. “Are you apologising for apologising?” He asked, raising his eyebrows with a quiet smile. “Come on, which way were you walking?” He readied himself to start moving again, absentmindedly brushing down his hoodie before forcing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s get you out of the rain, I refuse to be responsible for your shit getting ruined, and it’s getting cold.”

Waiting to be given a direction, he mulled over what Rio was telling him. As far as he was concerned, he had always been incredibly predictable. His parents always knew how and when he was next going to screw up. As a Human, when he disappeared, Dani always, always knew how to find him. “Maybe some people.” He said finally. “I don’t think I’ve ever surprised anyone.” Offering an easy grin, he hoped his warm expression might be enough to take back the insult, he so often forgot not everybody was used to his humour. It wasn’t as though he could call people names while he was working, and he had only ever spoken to Orion at work. “You won’t regret it, don’t worry. I’m not that mean. And an insult from me is a compliment, I swear. I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just excited-” It felt ridiculous to admit, but it was undeniably true. “I haven’t had anyone to talk to in a while, so…” Anyone regular, anyway. “It’s good to see you. I mean it, Rio...” 

“It was barely even a fair fight. Hawkguy never stood a chance.” Orion laughed. Talking about stuff like this was one of the few times he seemed to excel, or at the very least accomplish, at normal conversation. He missed being able to just talk and laugh and even joke without spending the entire conversation constantly second guessing every single word before he even said them. “That’s uh- Kate starts calling him that when they start working together. Since they’re both Hawkeye.” Rio picked the bag up and swung it back over his shoulder with relative ease, tucking his arms through the straps. “I’m pleading the fifth on that one.” Rio shrugged, but began walking with Milo. He wasn’t sure why Milo thought he needed an escort to his car parked around the corner of the library, but he assumed that it was probably the same reason that everybody assumed Rio needed an escort or a protein shake or regular exercise. But like with most hunters, even Rio was an example of how looks could be deceiving. Most people didn’t peg the sickly looking gay frail kid as the one that could rip a car door off. “For the record, it’s not your fault at all. I’ve been doing a great job ruining my… stuff all on my own.” 

Walking towards his car, Rio spun and walked backwards to look at Milo. He wasn’t sure what Milo meant by that. That he had never surprised anyone. He supposed it could have just been an offhand comment that didn’t require much digging into. But something about it seemed incredibly sad. Rio started to consider his own stakes on the word. In a way, Rio had tried his whole life to be as unsurprising as possible. He had wanted to blend in, be a good person and fly mostly under the radar. He supposed that same tactic would backfire though. It was only more surprising when someone found out he was a hunter now. “You surprised me like twenty minutes ago. Like genuinely scared the crap out of me. Not that that’s super hard to do.” Rio laughed, but hoped it helped at least a minimal amount, “I’m honestly surprised you even like, came up and talked to me tonight. So there you go. First time for everything.” Rio’s foot caught on something on the ground and he almost tripped, stumbling backwards a few times before righting himself. That’s what he got for trying to walk backwards and talk. They got to the mostly empty parking lot and Rio lead Milo to his car, “Welp. Here we go. I uh- yeah. Same here. I could use a friend right now so…” Rio pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it over to Milo, “Want to put your number in? So we can plan a hang out. Or text or whatever.”  

Milo smiled, listening to Orion as he continued to talk about Kate Bishop, and Clint Barton. It was obvious to anyone how his demeanour changed when he was talking about something that he genuinely loved, and he sincerely hoped he wasn’t the only person to appreciate that. “Maybe I should make more of an effort to get into Hawkeye.” He admitted. When… if he was allowed back to the comic book store, it would be the first thing on his to-do list. “Wouldn’t it be easier to take up a new mantle at that point?” He asked, trying to imagine working with somebody else named Milo without things descending into confusion. It didn’t go unnoticed just how easily Orion swung the bag over his shoulder, but he chose not to comment. He wasn’t about to embarrass him, not after his admission. Maybe he was right, maybe people really did have a way of surprising you. His smile faltering momentarily, he had a feeling there was a lot more to the words than Rio was letting on, though he brushed them off. If he wanted to elaborate then he would. “Exactly, so you don’t need my help.”  

Following his friend to where he could only assume his car was parked, he moved slowly, allowing Orion to face him walking backwards. The rain was falling with a little more persistence, but there was nowhere near enough water to soak them through. Pushing his damp hair back away from his face, he caught Rio’s eye with an easy laugh, oddly touched by the sentiment. “I guess that’s true, you know… I can’t argue with you on that one.” It wasn’t quite the same, but it felt like enough. “I do like you.” He insisted. “I’d jump at any excuse to talk to you, you don’t know how boring my shifts used to be when you didn’t show up to see me.” His step faltering as Orion stumbled backwards, the boy righted himself before he even had the chance to fully react. “If you were hoping I was going to catch you and sweep you off of your feet, you need to be a good 2 yards closer.” He teased, as they finally came to a halt in the near-empty parking lot. Accepting the phone gratefully, he hurried to plug in his number. Mainly in an attempt to keep the device out of the rain, but also because it felt good to have a contact, he wanted Orion to have a way of reaching him. Handing it back, he pulled his carton of cigarettes from his pocket, ready to light one for the begrudging walk home. Harsh was probably wondering where he was. “I guess, I’ll- uh… I’ll see you around then?” 

Orion had often wondered that same thing about the Hawkeye issue. Though he supposed it did change a bit depending on how far someone dived into the character. “Great question. I actually think in some of the comics that Kate Bishop sort of drops the hawkeye name because she becomes a private detective instead. It’s a whole thing. But regardless, I’m interested in getting your thoughts on it!” He was mostly excited to have someone to talk comic books with again. 

There had been a surprising amount of honesty and sentiment in what had otherwise been a fairly comical conversation. With how bold Milo was being in his statements, Rio found it hard to focus. As the conversation about comics died down, so did Rio’s ability to talk apparently. But he had to try to force himself to not reverse back into his old habits. He wanted to be actual friends with Milo now. Not just a customer with a crush. “Uh-” Rio drug the word out for far too long before snapping back to focus, “Thanks. Same to you.” At least the cold air would help fight any further blushing. “Very funny, Milo. I am not that person anymore! I’m just a clumsy comic book nerd. Not a clumsy- uh- crushing comic book nerd.” Yikes. That wasn’t as smooth as he was hoping it would sound. “Anyways. Thanks again.” Rio said, opening his car door and tossing the bag of books across the center console and into the passenger seat. He was about to pull himself into the car when he turned back around. “It’s only going to rain harder. Probably, I mean. Do you have a car? If not I can give you a lift?” 

“I guess I have some reading to do.” Milo was becoming more determined by the second to pick up the Hawkeye comics. It wasn’t the first time Orion had managed to convince him to start a new series. “I can’t promise I’ll have anything interesting to say though. You’re way better at talking about this shit than I am.” Grinning as he waited for his friend to find his words, he hadn’t been expecting a joke about his crush. “Eh, two out of three aint bad.” He teased. “Though I am offended you got over me so quickly.” He added, the look on his face making it very clear he wasn’t being serious. He wanted to ask why he was being thanked, surely not for the compliments, but he didn’t want to draw attention to any potential lack of self esteem. That hardly seemed fair, and he could make it clear he genuinely enjoyed Orion’s company in other ways. It made him happy to think there would be opportunities in the future to spend time with him.  

Caught off guard by the sudden offer, he shifted awkwardly on the spot. He hadn’t been in a car since becoming a vampire, and it definitely didn’t feel smart to get in one now. Especially not with a human, somebody whose heart was beating, pumping blood through their veins that he could smell, even from where he was standing. “No,” he murmured finally, his voice melancholy as he remembered just how much he could no longer do. He had spent the better part of the past seven years saying yes to absolutely everything, taking risks without considering the consequences, walking headfirst into danger because if he told himself things would be fine then it became all too easy to believe. Now… for the first time in his life, he was being forced to think, to contemplate every action before making a decision. It went against every instinct he had, it wasn’t in his nature. But it was necessary to keep other people safe.  

“No, I’ll be okay. I’m not staying too far from here…” He absentmindedly sparked up his cigarette, needing something to do with his hands. “Thank you though.” Shooting Orion one last smile, he held his gaze, needing him to understand his sincerity. “It really was good to see you. Text me.” The moment the words left his mouth, he turned away. Before Orion could call out to him, or tell him to get in the car. Before he could change his mind and put anybody at risk. Before he could think too deeply on his new limitations, and what it felt like to say no. To have no choice. So much had been taken away from him, and wallowing in that fact had become a past time. Though, he realised, with a strange sense of clarity, he may have just gained a friend. It was this thought that carrying him, as he left Orion in the parking lot. This thought making the night feel a little less dark as he disappeared into the shadows. 

[a-little-miffed]

Underneath The Spotlight- A Sanders Sides Fic

Taglist: @sophiexteresa

Chapter 11- Logan Berry: Dancer, Organiser, Techie... Boyfriend?

(Read chapter 1 here!)

(Read here on ao3!)

Warnings for this chapter: mild curse word

A/N: did anyone order Logince??? Also, I love how this chapter came out, I hope you do too :D

Harrison and Bailey were the two techies stationed at stage left of the theatre where the show was taking place, however their distinct personalities had earned them the nicknames Heart and Brain. The two had become inseparable throughout their time managing the theatre lighting and made a great team, Brain making sure every performer could be seen and Heart adding the symbolism and meanings to the lighting designs. Heart loved his job and was awed at getting such a close view of every performance that came and went from their theatre. Earlier in the show, during the ballroom dance, Heart had been watching the routine with curiosity.

“Brain, hey Brain!” he whispered, nudging his partner.

Brain sighed. “Yes, Heart?” they asked, turning to him.

“Look, look! That little guy in light blue, with the freckles and glasses! The really short one!”

“I see, yes.”

“Look how he looks at his partner. Brain, he’s in loooooveee!!!”

“I do see the signs, yes,” Brain replied. “How he never takes his eyes off of him, and the smiling and blushing. However his partner, the one in yellow, is probably doing it even more.”

“OH MY GOSH, YOU’RE SO RIGHT!”

“Heart, keep your voice down!”

“Sorry... but I totally see what you mean! Those two are absolutely smitten, it’s so cute! Oooohhh, let’s see if we can spot any other couples!”

“Over there, those two,” Brain said immediately. “Both really tall, one in red, one in dark blue.”

“Oh my gosh yeeessss!! They’re both such good dancers as well! It’s almost like they’re trying to impress each other. They make such a perfect couple, Brain!”

The other gave a small smile.

“Oh and look, over there! Green and purple, green and purple!”

“Ah yes, although their dancing skills are more... lacking, shall one say?”

Heart nudged them lightly. “Don’t be mean! They don’t have to be perfect dancers, but you can see they’re supporting each other and both trying their best. I bet they really take care of each other.”

Brain moved closer to their partner. “Like I take care of you?”

“Braiiiinnnnn! Not nowwww!” Heart whined, blushing.

“I apologise. Let’s leave the romancing to them, shall we?” they said, gesturing to the three waltzing couples.

Back at the current stage in the show, well into the second half, Logan and Roman were waiting in the wings for the tap dance, containing Logan’s big solo. His tap solos were fast, furious and one missed beat could ruin the whole thing. However he always seemed to execute them perfectly, captivating every single audience member with his rhythmic and technical precision.

“Are you nervous?”

“Slightly, although thanks to your talk earlier I now have no doubt that I am capable of doing this.”

“That’s the spirit, Lo! You’re gonna do amazing! And don’t forget I’ll be supporting you all the way.”

“Thank you Roman...”

The lights came up and the music began, signalling the start of the routine. The main part of the dance went well, everyone putting in their all with the technique and performance, delivering a great routine. Towards the end, all the other dancers retired to the back of the stage, ready for Logan’s solo.

“You can do this Logan,” he swore he heard Remus say

“Show everyone how great you are!” Patton’s voice came in his head.

“You got this, you nerd,” Virgil seemed to tell him.

“You are a fantastic dancer, never doubt yourself,” Janus’ voice said.

“Logan... I love you,” were the final words Logan heard from Roman.

They were all right. He could do this. Step... prepare... five, six, seven, eight-

The rest of the dancers watched with pride as Logan began his tap solo, most of them barely following the moves he seemed to be doing at hyper-speed. Logan did move after move perfectly in time, never once missing a beat, tapping out an extremely fast and complex rhythm with his shoes. The audience watched, in awe... they weren’t the only ones. Roman stood, watching his boyfriend, mesmerised...

“God, I love that tap-dancing nerd...”

There was little time to marvel over Logan’s skills after the routine, as most of the dancers had another routine soon, Roman almost immediately. After his very intense solo, Logan took a walk around backstage in order to catch his breath back a bit. While wandering around stage left, he overheard a couple of the techies talking.

“Oh no, Brain, it looks like the centre-stage spotlight is broken!” the shorter of the two techies said.

The other, taller techie winced. “That is the spotlight we need for the next dance, the best dancer in the school is performing a solo. What will we do?”

“I dunno, Brain, maybe we could try-“

Logan pondered. The best dancer in the school... they must be talking about Roman. Logan recalled his boyfriend did indeed have a solo as part of the next routine, and the broken spotlight would bring him even more unneeded stress. Logan himself had some tech skills. He sighed- it was worth a shot. He approached the techies, the tap shoes he was still wearing tapping against the floor.

“Salutations,” he said. “I overheard that the two of you were having an issue?”

“Aren’t you one of the dancers?” the taller techie (Brain?) asked.

“Indeed I am, however I thought I may be able to assist you with the broken spotlight problem.”

“I dunno, I mean we’re really not supposed to let performers use the lighting unit, let alone kids...” said the smaller techie Logan believed to be called Heart.

“I am sixteen, there is no need to belittle me or act like I don’t know anything.”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t trying to belittle you or anything! I just don’t think there’s anything any of us can do about this.”

“I agree,” said Brain. “The dancer will just have to dance without his spotlight.”

That made Logan livid. He knew full well that Roman, his boyfriend, deserved only the best. He was a stunning dancer and deserved to perform under the most flattering conditions, so everyone could see just how amazing he was. And if no one else could provide that for him, Logan was more than willing to take it into his own hands.

“Look, okay? We have a few minutes until the spotlight is needed, and I don’t need to be onstage for a while now. I think you’ll find that it is very much possible, and that I will be fixing this spotlight.”

He stamped his tap shoe on the floor in determination, making Heart jump and cower behind his partner. Even Brain took a step back, in shock.

“He’s being scary! It’s like those really demanding people from the posh ballet school all over again! Brain, do something!”

Brain shrugged.

“I trust the guy. Go ahead and see what you can do, umm...”

“Logan. Logan Berry.”

“I think you can fix it, Logan,” Brain said.

“Me too, I believe in you!” Heart chirped.

The problem was relatively simple. Logan had it fixed within a few minutes, and the techies did not do well at hiding their shock.

“Wow... you actually fixed it,” Brain said, looking over the lighting unit then giving Logan an impressed glance.

“Oh my goodness you did it!” Heart half-squealed. “Logan you are so clever and kind and skilful and selfless and helpful and smart and you saved our butts and you-“

Just as Heart looked as if he were about to lurch forwards and hug Logan, Brain placed a calming hand on their partner’s shoulder.

“Heart. Calm. Remember to be professional.”

“Sorrryyyy,” Heart shrank back, a blush dusting his freckled face.

Logan smiled. “You are very welcome.... I should probably return to my dressing room now. I don’t doubt that some catastrophe may have occurred in my absence.”

Brain chuckled. “My sincere thanks, Logan, we couldn’t have done this without you.”

Logan smiled, one of his rare, genuine, not just plastered on for a performance smiles. “You are most welcome.”

Roman was already dashing out of the dressing room when Logan returned. He stumbled towards him and frantically placed his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“Logan! I heard about some trouble with lighting, is everything ok back there?”

“Yes, do not worry, everything is fine now,” Logan replied, however his words did not have their desired calming effect.

Roman immediately frowned. “What do you mean ‘now’?”

“Oh, there was a small trouble regarding a spotlight for the next dance, but I managed to fix it, nothing major really. I merely examined the lighting unit, I spotted the issue and it was quite simple so I recalibrated the...” Logan’s words tailed off as he took in the look on his boyfriend’s face. “...wh-what’s the matter?”

“Logan... you did all that so I could have my spotlight?”

“Well, of course... because I love you-“

Logan was immediately cut off by Roman throwing his arms around him, holding him tight as he seemed to fight back tears.

“Thank you. Logan... you didn’t have to do that... I... has anyone ever told you how incredible you are?”

No words were necessary, as they both held each other tight, forgetting for a moment the chaos ensuing around them, as everything melted away into-

“ROMAN! So that’s where you’ve been!” Emile Picani once again thrust his head through the backstage door, this time looking even more infuriated than the last. “You’re literally on right now, we’ve had to stall the music for you! Get your ass in here now!”

Logan and Roman exchanged a shocked glance. If Emile swears at you, you know you’re in for it. Roman began sprinting towards the stage without a word. Logan was left stunned, with more confidence than he could remember having in a long time. He stood there, grinning like an idiot for a good few seconds until Remus approached him, mockingly wiggling his eyebrows.

“Jeez, dude, stop simping for my bother,” he said, causing Logan to blush bright red and snap back into his usual serious manner.

“Remus, cut it out,” he snapped. “You should be getting ready, we all have the big group number soon, where’s everyone else?”

Remus gestured awkwardly inside the dressing room. “Comforting Patton,” he whispered. Logan suddenly remembered the bold red mark he had put on Patton’s column of the spreadsheet, the seemingly impossible feat his childhood friend had been anxious about for months. He sighed.

“Then I suggest we join them...”

Next chapter