#I’ve got like half a chapter left and then one more section for Wednesday’s class and I’m done

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

I think it’s so funny how every time I read my book for class I fall asleep as if my body can’t tolerate the bullshit I’m reading.

[call-me-rei]

Chapter 32

“I’m scared to get close, and I hate being alone.”

---

Vic didn’t go to music appreciation on Tuesday after our...talk. I couldn’t blame him; I wouldn’t want to be around me either.

That’s why I avoided him on Wednesday. If I noticed him down the hall I went in a different direction. I was glad we didn’t have any classes together on B days because I probably would have skipped them.

But today was Thursday and Vic and I had two periods together. Two periods that I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to. I wanted to call in sick or just hang out somewhere else until lunch, but my anxiety kept telling me that I’d missed a week of school and I couldn’t afford to miss any more. So I convinced myself to sit in my government class and ignore the obsessive thoughts in my head.

Lucky for me Vic didn’t show up to government.

By the time lunch rolled around I was getting the slightest bit worried. I hadn’t seen Vic all day. His brother was at school with Jaime and Tony, but Vic was nowhere to be found. Part of me wanted to talk to them and ask where he was, but they were still intimidating even after all this time.

I walked with my friends to the back courtyard for lunch. We figured a change of scenery was needed for all of us after all of the events of the week, even if that change was going outside to eat cafeteria food.

We sat down at a table and discussed weekend plans. None of us had any so Ashley suggested following her along to a concert. She wanted to get the chance to photograph bands and this was a way to start.

We were talking logistics and money when I saw Kortney’s eyes widen. She scooted away from Savannah and made room at the circular table we were sitting at. She tapped on Sav’s shoulder and pointed behind her. Sav turned to look and scooted down as well.

I looked at them with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Before I could turn to look at what had gotten Kortney’s attention, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at the culprit, my breath hitching slightly. He smiled widely at me before asking if he could join us. None of us knew what to say so we didn’t say anything. He took that as a cue to sit right next to me in the space that Sav had left. His two friends followed suit, sitting next to Lynn who was on my right and in between Kortney and Ashley.

“So, what are we talking about?” We all looked at him, not knowing what to say.

“Um,” Lynn started. I could tell she was trying to ask a question and not come off as rude.

Savannah didn’t have that problem, so she spoke. “What gives? Why are you sitting with us?”

“Can’t we sit with our friends?”

“I didn’t think we were friends,” Sav answered.

“Vic asked us to.” Mike shot daggers at Tony who only shrugged. “What? It’s the truth.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell them that,” Mike chastised.

“So what should I have said?” Tony asked with attitude.

“Not that,” Mike answered.

I cleared my throat which brought the two boys’ attention away from each other. “Why’d he ask you to sit with us?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Mike sighed. “My brother may have heard some shit about Jacob wanting revenge for Monday, and since he’s been MIA today, he texted saying we should hang around you guys.”

“To protect us?” Jaime nodded. “So we need bodyguards?” Did Jacob really want to hurt me that badly?

“Kinda,” Tony said, answering my spoken and unspoken questions.

“Fuck,” I groaned. This meant that I theoretically couldn’t go anywhere without Vic or one of his friends around. And here I thought that it was intimidating just to ask them where Vic was.

“Aw, c’mon Kellin, we’re not that bad,” Jaime said. I involuntarily rolled my eyes. I noticed that Mike, Jaime, and Tony shared a look. I didn’t ask them about it, but it was weird.

“Speaking of, where is the little man?” Savannah asked. I stared at her with big eyes as I almost choked on my water. She just winked at me with a smirk on her lips.

Mike answered. “Don’t know, but that doesn’t matter.” He reached over and took a fry from my tray. “I heard something about a concert?”

***

Music appreciation was after that weird lunch. We were sitting in class waiting for Ms. Pope to give us instructions for the lesson. We were able to work independently on our projects on Tuesday so many of us were hoping that we could do the same today.

“Remember class, we have our checkpoints next Wednesday and Friday. Today and Monday are your last days to work on this next section with your teammates.”

Ms. Pope gave us permission to work. I looked over and sighed. Vic wasn’t in class again. Maybe I could get out of looking stupid if I went to the nurse and complained about my arm hurting from surgery. I already had the cast so that wouldn’t be an unbelievable statement. I thought about it and decided that would be the best course of action. That was until Ms. Pope gave us the chance to use the practice rooms if we needed a quiet space. I didn’t think twice about it and got up and left the classroom.

I went down the hall with my things. I passed by the taken rooms with kids who were either practicing for band or orchestra or were in my class and had gotten there before me. I continued to walk until I reached the room that I always seemed to find myself in whenever I needed space. There was something, or someone rather, that caught my attention.

I looked through the window of the door and saw him sitting on the piano bench with his guitar against his body. He was staring down at his hands, seemingly frustrated that he couldn’t get the chords right. He bit his lip before writing something down on the page in front of him, then went back to strumming the strings.

You should go in, my mind told me.

No, that’s a dumb idea.

Is it?

Yes! He’s mad at me.

But do you want him to be?

No…

I kept looking at him through the window. He was sighing a lot in between playing chords and writing. What was he writing? What was making him so upset? I didn’t want to make him more upset by going in there, but I also didn’t want to keep staring at him through the window like a creeper.

So I sucked it up and opened the door.

Vic turned around when he heard the click of the doorknob. He didn’t say anything to me, just stared, something he’d been doing a lot more of these days. I couldn’t tell if he was still upset with me or was waiting for me to speak first. I went with the latter.

“What’re you working on?” I asked.

“Nothing much, just had some ideas and I wanted to try them out.” I nodded. “Why are you here?”

I bit my lip out of nervousness. “Ms. Pope is letting us work on our projects. The checkpoint is next week.”

“Right.”

We continued to look at each for a minute or two. I still wasn’t sure if he wanted me there or not. His actions made him seem indifferent, so I kept talking to avoid it being awkward.

“So, uh, how long have you been in here? I thought you weren’t at school today.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t feel like going to government, so I didn’t. I’ve been in here since lunch.”

“Oh.” I nervously scratched the back of my neck. “Listen-”

“Close the door,” he cut me off. I looked at him questionably. Did he want me to leave? “Come in and close the door,” he answered my unasked question with a small sigh. I followed his instructions and stood against the wall when I was done.

We looked at each other again. I didn’t know how to start the conversation I knew we needed to have, but I knew this was the time to do it. The last time we were in this room I said things out of anger and frustration. Now that that feeling was gone and replaced with guilt, I didn’t know if he’d listen like he had the other day.

“Kellin,” Vic started. I was taken away from my thoughts and focused my attention on him. I watched as he bit his lower lip and sighed before he continued. “I’m sorry.”

I tilted my head to the side. “You’re sorry?”

He sighed again. “Yeah. I owe you an explanation for what happened last week.” I nodded.

“Yeah, you do.” He put his guitar down on its stand and turned his body so he was completely facing me.

“I just…I don’t know where to start,” he said hesitantly.

I looked him dead in the eye as I asked, “Why’d you leave that day?”

I knew he knew what day I was referring to. Vic rubbed his hand over his face before speaking. “I like you Kells, I do. It’s just that I don’t know what to do about liking you.”

“What do you mean?”

He breathed out heavily from his nose. “Before you woke up a doctor had come in and said that there was a chance that you weren’t going to. You’d been out for at least forty-eight hours and they were monitoring your vitals and brain activity after your first surgery. You were stable but they didn’t know why you weren’t waking up. Then another twelve hours goes by and there’s still nothing.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I was scared. I didn’t want to watch you die. I didn’t want to have to go down the hall and tell your mom that her son…” He stopped his sentence short to take a shaky breath.

I took some steps closer to him and sat beside him on the piano bench. I put my hand on top of the one he was resting on his lap. Vic looked at our hands for a second, seeming to calm down before he continued.

“Obviously you woke up and everything was okay, but for two and a half days I didn’t know if I’d ever talk to you again.”

“Then why did you stop talking to me?”

He blew out a breath. “I’m conflicted with things and I needed time to figure it all out.”

“Things?” He nodded. I bit my lip, not knowing if I wanted to ask the question that had been on my mind for days. “Vic?” He hummed. “Are you out?”

He licked his lips. “No.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure Mike knows because he’s my brother and all, but I haven’t told him explicitly. My mom may know because mother’s intuition and shit. I know my dad doesn’t know. Not sure if I ever wanna tell him. Tony’s really astute so he may know or at least have a suspicion. Jaime’s kinda all over the place so who knows what he knows. Other than that, you’re the only person who really knows.”

I hummed in response. There wasn’t anything I could say to that. If he was still in the closet then I could only support him until he was ready to come out.

Vic’s confession did raise a question. “So you ignored me for days because you’re not out?”

He sighed. “It’s not that.” He looked down at our hands; mine was still on top of his. He flipped his hand over so our palms were touching, then he locked our fingers.

“After thinking you were dying and watching you wake up, I just wanted to kiss you. Then the doctor walked in and I realized that I didn’t know how I could do that in public without outing myself. I’m not ready for that yet, but I wanna be for you. I wanna be with you.”

I blushed a little. “That’s sweet, but you don’t need to come out for me.”

“It’s just...I just like that you’re you and you’re not hiding who you are. I wish I could do that. I wanna be able to walk down the hall holding your hand and not care about what anyone would say. I wanna kiss you before class and take you out on public dates. I don’t wanna hide.”

Vic started playing with my fingers with his other hand. I could tell it was a nervous reaction. I’d be nervous too if I’d just spilled my guts like that to my crush.

“So you stopped talking to me because you’re in the closet?” I asked. He looked up at me and shook his head.

“I stopped talking to you because I thought you deserved better. You’re unapologetically you and I’m too ashamed to admit who I am. You made this great group of friends here on your first day. Hell, you stood up to me on your first day without caring about the consequences. And as much as I would like to try to deny it, I have to admit that I kinda found it hot.” I blushed and so did he. I had to clear my throat and regain my composure before I spoke.

“That’s sweet, but you don’t get to decide what I deserve. I like you too. Even though you’re an asshole I think you have some adhering qualities.” He chuckled. “But you ignoring me didn’t add to those.”

He sighed. “I know. That’s kinda why I made the playlist. I wanted you to know that I was sorry, and even if you never went on Spotify and listened to it, I at least knew it was out there.”

I nodded. I knew where he was coming from and I couldn’t blame him for trying.

“Are we good?” he asked after we had sat in a comfortable silence.

I nodded with a smile. “Yeah, we’re good. But the next time something like this happens please be honest with me. You can’t say you like me then push me away.”

“I know, and I will. Promise.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And I’m sorry for what I said to you the other day.”

He shook his head to stop me. “You don’t need to apologize. I deserved it for how I treated you.”

“Let’s just say we won’t be stupid again.”

“I can’t promise that, but I can say that I’ll try.”

I smiled and squeezed his hand that was still holding mine. “So, you think I’m hot?” I asked with a cocky grin.

“So hot,” he answered.

We didn’t have much to say after that so we worked on our project. We were supposed to have a minute of the song recorded so Ms. Pope could grade it but recording in the practice room was terrible.

“The acoustics in here suck,” I complained.

“Yeah, they do,” Vic responded. “Wanna go back to my place and make out?”

I blushed. “W-What?” I stuttered. That came out of nowhere.

“I mean, we can go back to my place and record then make out, but as long as making out is part of it.”

“We can’t do that.”

“Sure we can. Class is almost over. We can leave right now. Or we could make out in the back of my car.”

I rolled my eyes. “But it’s December. It’s cold.”

“It’s December in San Diego.”

“You’re also wearing a hoodie and long pants. That’s how I know it’s cold,” I pointed out.

Vic chuckled. “Fair point, but my offer still stands.”

I shook my head and turned back to my notebook that was in front of me. “Keep it in your pants, Fuentes.”

“Are you sure that’s where you want me to put it?”

My eyes widened. “Shut up!”

“Make me,” he challenged.

I bit my lip to keep from saying anything stupid. Although maybe I wanted to take him up on that…

“You know, you’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he said, taking my mind off of the dirty things I was thinking.

“And you’re a jerk,” I argued.

“Sorry, but you’re so easy to mess with.”

I rolled my eyes again. “Can we just work on this project before we fail the checkpoint?”

He chuckled. “Sure, but I’m serious about what I said. My dad soundproofed the basement so Mike and I could practice our instruments. Come over today and we can get the recording done.”

“That sounds good,” I said with a nod.

He had a devilish look in his eyes before he spoke again. “But best believe we’re gonna have some fun when we’re done.” The husky tone of his voice made me blush again which caused him to laugh. “It’s so easy!” he exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes. “Fuck you,” I said with a deep scowl on my face.

He still had a smile playing on his lips. “You wanna?”

I scoffed. “Please, I doubt you could handle me.” I didn’t intend for that to sound suggestive, but I saw lust take over Vic’s eyes after that sentence left my lips.

He looked me up and down while biting his lip. My heart began to beat heavily as I held his gaze. He put his hand on my thigh and moved it up before he spoke. “Challenge accepted.”

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Director’s Commentary- Lovesick Addiction, Keith joins Lance in church as he mourns

My commentary is in bold italics- I hope it’s okay I focused on the shoebox because the whole church scene was like... 6 pages and half of it was crying....

Keith chewed on his lower lip for a second before nodding. “I want to be here with you.” I’m gonna be honest. I know I’ve gotten feedback on the realism of Lance’s mourning, but I have no idea how realistic I made Keith as a partner who is also becoming part of it. I don’t actually know how hard it may have been for Keith to sit there and open the shoe box with Lance, but I like to think that although it is a bit uncomfortable, the jealousy is gone and it’s something Keith does want to actively be part of with Lance out of love for him. Which is why I made him stay even in the midst of Lance’s mourning period and after so long without hearing from Lance.

Lance turned toward him and put the box between them. He took a breath and stared at it for a minute. Keith kept his eyes on him while he prepared himself. Then Lance reached out and pulled the lid of the shoebox away. 

There were several papers, photos, and even pieces of jewelry. Lance let out a shaky breath and he let his fingers skim over the photos. They had a grainy sort of appearance, like they were photos taken with phones then printed at a Walgreens. A couple were those new, small polaroids. 

Lance looked at them and took a deep breath that left him in a shaky exhale. It kind of killed me not getting a chance to write this section in Lance’s POV because this is huge for him. He’s allowing and inviting both worlds to merge here in a place of faith which he had been lacking. He’s inviting this acknowledgement of both Allura and Keith as romantic partners and it’s HUGE, especially after so long keeping them separate and grieving her separately. “This was the first Christmas we spent as a couple. She gave me the cologne you saw in my bathroom that day.” 

He looked at the photo in Lance’s hands. The two of them bundled up with scarves and beanies and thick jackets so all you could really see was her hair spilling around her shoulders and their faces as they laughed in the middle of a kiss. 

It felt jarring to see Lance kissing someone else. The bitterness Keith used to have to stuff down wasn’t there, just… discomfort. I also really wanted this scene to show the growth and security Keith feels in the relationship. He would NOT have been ready for this if they’d opened the box all those chapter ago when Lance first mentioned the box. Lance put the photo back inside and looked at the others. There was a silly selfie of the two of them where Allura’s hair covered both their faces because the wind was blowing it. Keith could still see their laughing smiles between the strands, the scrunch of their eyes as they winced. There was one someone had taken of them while they sat, each with a book in their hands. Lance seemed to be looking up as if whoever was snapping the photo had called his name suddenly. Allura was leaning against him, focused on her book. They were both dressed up. 

“Where’d you guys go?” I know it seems like Keith asking stuff is just a given, but.... Honestly he could’ve stayed quiet the whole time and just let Lance talk when he needed/wanted. But I had this question from Keith’s end because I wanted to show that Keith is welcoming this information, this conversation. It’s not one sided. It’s a conversation and Keith wants to be part of it. He wants Lance to trust him with this, wants him to feel safe and comfortable talking about it. So he asks and he’s curious and it’s him opening that space for Lance. Reassuring him that he means it when he says he wants to be there. 

Lance smiled sadly. “That was after Ash Wednesday. See the smear on our foreheads?” He sighed. “We actually weren’t dating yet in that one. I also wanted to make sure people recognized that his relationship with Allura wasn’t always romantic. There was friendship there, a bond that went back to childhood. A closeness that grew before the romance. It’s mentioned either before or shortly after this excerpt but I needed to drive home the fact that Lance is not only mourning a lover, he’s mourning a friend. Even when he’s been with Keith for 30 years, he will still mourn Allura because she was still his friend of several years. But my dad kept telling me to buck up and be a man and ask her out already.” Keith hummed and nodded. He looked into the box and skimmed the other contents. “Are you sure this is okay?” Lance asked.

He met Lance’s eyes and smiled sheepishly. “It’s a little strange. But I’m okay.” He pointed inside the box. “What’s with the index card covered in algebra equations?” The index card, I just really wanted a mundane object that would show how easy and natural their relationship was but also didn’t want it to be a sticky note because of that Valentine’s day headcannon I have for them. 

Lance set the photos down and lifted the index card. There were a bunch of sticky notes attached to the other side of it, stacked sloppily over each other. 

“This is from one of the classes we shared for gen ed. She left me a note on it when I wasn’t looking, and I just found it between my study guides.” He peeled the sticky notes off and Keith saw some loopy, round handwriting scrawled across the other side in black marker. 

I like the look on your face when you get confused. It’s cute. -Ax

Keith knew exactly what she was talking about. That scrunch of his eyebrows, the way he pressed his lips together in a slight pout, the way his eyes would squint suspiciously, all topped with a slight tilt of his head. It was fucking adorable. So. I really liked the idea of creating a sense of similarity between Keith and Allura through Lance. The two people who love(d) him in this romantic way both knew him well enough to know what his confused face was and to find it endearing. They’re similar in their love for Lance, and it also shows that there’s parts that are integral to Lance that didn’t disappear after Allura’s death. Even if it’s as small as a facial expression. 

“The professor was trying to explain logarithms. I never understood those,” Lance said.  He flipped the edges of the sticky notes. “She used to leave me notes in my stuff. In my backpack. Between the pages of my books. In my wallet. Telling me to listen for the birds that day. Things that reminded her of me. Or just to remind me that… she loved me.” I want to expand on this in the prequels, but the idea was that Allura liked to mention things Lance could make poetry out of. While also letting him experience the present. As someone who knew she was on limited time, Allura was often the one reigning Lance back to just be present and enjoy the moment (something else Keith and Allura have in common) when Lance wanted to rush forward and plan the future. So she mentioned little things that could help him be present like bird songs.  He traced the loops of her writing and pressed his other hand to his eyes. 

He took a moment to pull himself together, placing the stack of notes back inside the box. While Lance breathed, Keith noticed the glint of a chain and a bracelet. The cross on the chain and the little infinity sign on the bracelet were the same as the ones Allura had been wearing in the photos. He could see them clearly on a small polaroid of Allura laying out in the sun- the very same cross and bracelet. I wanted the jewelry to stand out because they didn’t go to Coran and they weren’t buried with her. They were given to Lance. 

“She really loved you,” Keith said softly. 

Lance looked over at him and managed a nearly imperceptible nod. “I miss her. And it just sucks that… this isn’t the kind of missing someone where you know you can drive a few hours to see them or just wait a few months to be with them. It’s permanent. There’s no possibility at all and I can’t do anything about it.” Depending on how long you’ve followed me, you may or may not know I’m thanatophobic. So I basically put the fears I have of death into this. It’s kind of surreal trying to get into your head when someone is gone in a permanent way that has no chance of changing and I tried to phrase it in a way that would carry that weight of pain and finality. As he spoke, his voice broke more and more between whispers, some words barely distinguishable. “And when that reality hits me I just feel… so powerless and small.” 

Seeing Lance break down further, Keith got up and moved to the other side of Lance so he could wrap his arms around him. Lance pressed his hands to Keith’s chest. 

At first, Keith thought Lance was trying to push him back. That he might need space. But when Keith started to let him go, Lance’s body curled further into him. His palm pressed against his chest, seeking something. Seeking Keith’s heartbeat. Lance’s face tucked into the curve of his neck. Lance’s way to be present. The last time he did this was after a nightmare of Keith dying, so for Lance, the heartbeat is a way of comforting himself with the knowledge that the person he loves is alive. 

They stayed that way for a long time. Keith let his finger twirl an unruly lock of hair by his ear, his other arm wrapped around Lance and gently skimming his fingers over him back. Lance kept his hand at Keith’s chest, occasionally pressing harder, occasionally letting his hand slip before settling back in place. 

Eventually, Lance lifted his head. “I’m gonna pray a little,” he said with a tired, raspy voice. “Then we can go back. If you’d rather wait in the car, you can.” 

Keith hummed and looked around at whoever was left still praying. “Can you show me how? Teach me one of the prayers you like so I can do it with you?” 

I’ve mentioned why this last bit matters so much to me. I mean for one, it’s a big step that Lance made the step on his own to voluntarily go to church and another that he’s sitting to have his conversation with God. But there’s also so much in the fact that Keith is also offering to join him in this because he knows what it means to Lance. Anyway this is one of my favorite parts especially with the part the follows this where Lance gives him a simple little kiss and Keith is very confused and wondering if it’s allowed. That part, I think shows another merging of worlds for Lance. A merge of his faith with his identity as someone who loves a boy. 

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic - Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer - (1/?)

[waltzofthewifi]

Kota Chapter 5: The Attack on Liberty

Beginning | Chapter 4 | ToC | Chapter 6

The morning after, Adrien could still taste trash.

"You could try some Camembert," Plagg offered, holding a piece of it up to Adrien.

Adrien stopped brushing his tongue for a minute to consider Plagg. "I didn't think you shared food."

"It's a one time deal," Plagg said.

"I'm touched, but that actually might taste worse."

"More for me." Plagg inhaled the piece of Camembert and resumed whatever he was doing prior.

Adrien sighed and put down the toothbrush. His tongue was a lost cause - he would be tasting trash all day. It would be amazing if he could focus on anything because of it, much less the big math test.

Adrien's phone dinged, and he chuckled at Nino's text.

is it bad I'm hoping for another akuma to delay the test

Adrien replied.

I think we all are

.

Breakfast tasted awful, and the taste of eggs and trash still lingered in his mouth as Adrien arrived at school.

"Dude," Nino greeted. "You missed the coolest akuma the other day!"

No, I did not, Adrien thought grimly. I almost wish I did.

"What happened?" He said instead.

They continued up towards the school as Nino launched into the events of the previous day. Adrien schooled his facial expressions into appropriate responses, acting surprised at the right times and portraying sympathy whenever Nino relayed a hero getting hit with garbage.

The two boys took their seats in the front, Adrien noticing that Marinette had beaten them to school that day.

"You're here on time!" Nino said. "Is the world ending?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "No. Just managed a good nights sleep last night. With the extra studying I did, I feel prepared for the test today."

"If you feel so prepared you could've helped me!" Alya complained.

"I thought you were spending the day with Lila?" Marinette asked. "Helping her catch up on the chemistry assignment?"

"I was, but her mother needed help with something else, so I ended up spending the night by myself."

"Aw, babe, you should've called me!" Nino said. "I had the night free for once."

"Well that's two out of three," Alix commented as she walked in.

"Huh?" Adrien asked.

"Of our always late crowd?" Alix filled in.

Adrien chuckled. "What can I say? All the akumas lately have made traffic horrible."

"True - but Marinette and Lacy both walk to school. They have no such excuse."

"I have an excuse," Marinette argued. "I've been busy!"

Alya rolled her eyes. "Sure, girl."

Alix chuckled and went up to her seat behind Chloe.

"Hey, Adrien?" Marinette asked. "Can we talk later?"

Adrien smiled. "Of course! Since fencing starts a little later today, I'll be in the library right after school. Meet me there?"

Marinette nodded eagerly. "I'll be there!"

Adrien smiled to himself. Marinette was such a cool friend to hang out with, but she rarely sought him out by herself. Being able to spend some time with her would be great!

"Man! Seriously, you get some free time on the day I have to race home? That's not fair," Nino complained.

"It's not much," Adrien assured him. "I'd rather be at the sleepover on the Liberty, but I know that's not going to happen."

"If it makes you feel better, me and Nino aren't going either," Alya said.

"Yeah, I'm stuck babysitting the little dude tonight and Alya has another study date with Lila," Nino replied.

"That's too bad," Marinette said. "I've heard the new song Kitty Section is working on and it's great!"

"Next time girl," Alya said.

The classroom door opened with a bang. "I'm not late!" Lacy stumbled in, her coat half on her shoulders and out of breath.

"Correct. In fact, you are 3 minutes and 12 seconds early, a record for you."

Lacy pumped her fist in the air in celebration and joined Alix at their seats.

Miss Bustier walked in seconds later. "Good morning class."

"Good morning," they chimed back.

Miss Bustier placed her bag on the desk and gave the class a warm smile. "Wonderful, you're all here on time! We can start right away!"

.

Adrien sat down at a table the back of the library and pulled out his bag. He didn't have much studying to do - he had plenty time last night after the akuma, when he needed anything to distract from the garbage taste left in his mouth - but he wanted to at least look like he was doing what he told his father he would.

Hidden in between his text books was the historical fiction story Kagami had lent him, and his hand was just reaching for it when someone cleared their throat behind him.

Adrien lit up. "Marinette! I'm glad you could make it!"

Marinette smiled. "Thanks. What I want to talk about is important - and not that easy to talk about. I, well I uh, it's about-"

"Hey, it's okay." Adrien gestured for Marinette to sit down besides him. "We're friends, right? You can tell me anything you want."

"Oh, okay," Marinette said. "It's about Lila."

"What about her?" Adrien asked.

"Well, really it's about you, and the way you've been - well, passive around her."

"Oh?"

"It's just - I know you want to take the high road, but some of what she's doing is having serious consequences, and I just don't feel like you're behind me a hundred percent."

"Of course I am," Adrien said. "And I've begun to notice those consequences too, but I don't - I guess I don't really know what to do. Confrontation isn't really my style."

"I know, and I think that's good - most of the time," Marinette agreed. She looked away, nervously, but Adrien wasn't willing to let the topic drop. If there was something he could do for his friends, he wanted to know.

"Is there anything specific I could do to help?" Adrien asked.

"Maybe speak up when Alya's accusing me of just being jealous?" Marinette asked. "Or doing more to make sure Lila's not pushing me out of the group. Things like that."

Adrien frowned. "Has she? Been excluding you?"

"A little, Yeah."

"Oh. Marinette I'm sorry - I never noticed! I would have said something - but I guess I'm always excluded too, because of my schedule, so it's harder for me to notice."

Marinette blinked. "Oh, right! I didn't even think of that. I guess it's wrong to get mad at you when you can't go either!"

"I guess if we're not there, we can't notice the others not being there either," Adrien said.

"I guess not." Marinette chuckled. "You are a nice friend, Adrien. It's why I felt like I could talk about this with you!"

"And I'm glad you did!" Adrien agreed. "I wouldn't want to upset you! I really value our friendship, and I'm sorry if you've felt unsupported."

Marinette turned bright red, and Adrien mentally backtracked. What did I do this time? Had he embarrassed her somehow?

"I value you - I mean, your friendship too!" She squeaked out. "I have to go!"

Adrien blinked, watching her leave the library. "See you?"

He could hear Plagg chuckle in his shirt.

.

"Think you could do that?" Luka asked, holding his phone awkwardly in one hand as he put his guitar away.

Adrien nodded on the other side of the screen. "Just give me a few days to practice. I'm planning on being at the rehearsal next Wednesday - and Kagami's coming too!"

"Great!" Luka replied. "The more the better! By the way, I wanted to thank you for what you did for Juleka last week. That was really cool of you."

Adrien couldn't help but smile at Luka's genuine comment. "It was no problem. She'll make a great model one day."

"That's what I keep telling her," Luka agreed. "With your help, she's really gaining confidence. I couldn't thank you enough."

Luka turned his head towards something in the background. "Sorry, I thought I heard-" His eyes widened. "Aku-"

The call disconnected before he could finish.

"Looks like I'll be visiting the Liberty a little earlier," Adrien said.

"You don't know that's what he was going to say," Plagg complained.

"What else could it be? Plagg, claws out!"

.

It was a quick run to the Liberty.

The akuma was easy to spot. She was dressed in muddy brown, in a flowery dress that billowed behind her. One hand was wrapped in a white material, the other in black. With each hand she was lobbing giant mud speedballs. From the rooftop Chat Noir was perched on he could see Ivan, Mylene, and Rose hiding behind the steering wheel, Marinette and Luka already unconscious on the deck, and Lacy and Juleka crouched near the side of the boat. The akuma was closing in on Alix, another mud ball forming.

Before she got a chance to fire again, Chat Noir landed behind her.

"Didn't know Hawkmoth was a baseball fan," he quipped, bringing the akuma's attention towards him.

"Baseball?" The akuma screeched. "Can baseball do this?"

She rapid-fired her mud balls, and Chat Noir dodged each shot. The akuma huffed with annoyance, before raising her arms again and fire a steady stream of mud. Chat Noir dodged, and the akuma forced him towards the side of the boat.

"I didn't think heroes ran," the akuma taunted.

"I'm not running," Chat Noir replied. "I'm just tired of being hit by smelly projectiles."

"Well then, I won't hit you."

The akuma snarled and fired, and the ball flew straight towards Juleka. By instinct, Chat Noir moved his baton to block.

The ball rammed into the baton and stuck.

Chat Noir pulled on his baton, and it pulled against the mud but didn't shake free.

"Now back to you." The akuma turned to Alix, raising her hands to fire.

Chat Noir separated his baton, leaving one half in the mud, and tossed the top half at the akuma just as she fired.

The mudball flew at Alix at high speeds, but something else - someone else - rammed into her and knocked her down. The mud collided with the deck just as the baton hit the akuma in the face.

Chat Noir turned to see Lacy helping Alix move towards the escape, where Juleka was edging them on. He glanced up, hoping to see a sign of his partner, but no luck.

No Ladybug meant no cleansing the akuma, which meant Chat Noir's first responsibility was getting the civilians to safety. He made a gesture for the three remaining classmates - Rose, Ivan, and Mylene - to make for the same exit before turning back to the akuma.

Chat Noir dove for his remaining baton half, grabbing it just in time to roll away from mud ball. He dodged another, making for the door to safety. He closed it behind him with a bang, cutting off another mudball.

"What about Luka and Marinette?" Rose asked.

"They'll be fine," Alix commented. "Puddler is after me."

Chat Noir sputtered. "Puddler? What time of name is that? And why is she after you?"

Alix shrugged. "No idea."

The door shuddered from another attack.

"You guys should head somewhere safer," Alix said.

"We're not leaving you," Lacy argued.

"Yeah, no way!" Rose agreed.

Chat Noir turned to Juleka. "This is your houseboat, right? Where's the safest place to hide?"

"This way."

Juleka led them down to the same room Captain Hardrock had kept her hostages. Chat Noir could hear Puddler following them down the hall, huffing about irresponsible teenagers.

"Our room is right in here," Juleka said. "Mom made sure it was safe when the akumas started happening."

"Alright, everyone inside," Chat Noir ordered. Juleka helped him usher their classmates into the small bedroom.

"Chat Noir, is there anything I can do to help?" Alix said.

"Not right now," Chat Noir said. "We can't go on the offense until Ladybug gets here. Besides, it's usually her that comes up with all the plans. Just stay safe with your friends."

Alix nodded, and with her safely in the room, Chat Noir closed the door and stood guard at the other side.

It wasn't long before Puddler caught up. She was heaving and snarling, a mudball already forming in her hands.

"Where is that child!" Puddler demanded.

"Which child?" Chat Noir asked.

His eyes caught a flash of red behind her.

"The skater one!" Puddler said. "That little girl-"

"You have a problem with little girls?" Chat Noir asked. "Because I see a very scary one behind you."

Before Puddler had a chance to look, Ladybug's yo-yo came flying at her. The yo-yo wrapped around Puddler's torso, and with a tug she was flying down the hallway behind her.

"Great timing as always, my Lady," Chat Noir said.

Ladybug didn't look impressed - but then again, while her outfit was spotless, her pigtails were coated with mud.

"I'm not a little girl," Ladybug said, crossing her arms.

"That's not what I meant," Chat Noir replied.

"I'm not a little girl either!" Alix called from behind the door.

Ladybug sighed. "Fine. Any idea where the akuma is?"

Chat Noir shrugged. "My best bet would be one of the gloves. They stand out the most."

"That's what I was thinking. Lucky charm!" Ladybug held up the spotted object. "A folder?"

"Maybe there's papers in it?" Chat Noir suggested.

Ladybug opened the folder, but it was empty.

"Guess not." She glanced around the small room, and then back to Puddler, who was just standing up again.

"Her gloves," Ladybug muttered.

Puddler lobbed another mud ball at them, but they easily dodged.

"I need your claws," Ladybug decided. She held up the folder pointed in the middle. "A hole right here."

Chat Noir obliged, and Ladybug looped her yo-yo string through the whole and tied the folder secure under the yo-yo - all while dodging another blast.

Ladybug tossed her yo-yo, and the edge of the folder collided with Puddler's glove, ripping it.

"Wrong hand," Puddler chimed.

"Just using the process of elimination," Ladybug replied.

She tossed her yo-yo, and even though Puddler tried to dodge, the edge of the folder still ripped against her glove.

The akuma flew out.

Chat Noir let himself relax as he watched Ladybug purify the akuma. Another akuma beaten, and he hadn't even needed to use his cataclysm.

"Miraculous Ladybug!"

The ladybugs flew through the air, cleaning up the mud left on the ground and in Ladybug's ponytails.

"Pound it!"

"What happened?"

Ladybug and Chat Noir turned to the akuma victim, now returned to her normal self. Her two gloves had reformed as mud-covered grocery bags, and her pair of work slacks were coated with mud.

"Are you alright?" Ladybug asked.

"I - yeah," the woman replied. Her eyes widened. "Was I akumatized?"

"Psst." The door behind them opened slightly, and Alix peaked her head out. "Is it safe yet?"

"You," the woman said, her voice emotionless. "You were the one."

Alix fully stepped into the hallway. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

The woman scoffed. "Of course you don't. You didn't even look at me - even when you skated through that mud pile and ruined my best slacks and my groceries."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was running late-" Alix shook her head. "I should have been watching where I was going. Can I make it up to you somehow?"

The woman's shoulders slumped. "No, it's alright. Accidents happen. I just had a hard day."

"Why don't I take you home?" Chat Noir asked.

"I don't want to trouble you-"

"It's no trouble." Chat Noir turned to Ladybug. "See you later?"

Ladybug nodded. "Later."

.

"So how did you get knocked out by Puddler?" was apparently the wrong way to start a conversation.

Ladybug's expression turned sour. "She snuck up on me. That's all."

Chat Noir held his hands up. "Just asking."

The two of them were on the top of the Eiffel Tower, watching the city below them. The intention of the meeting had been to patrol, but neither had the energy to - and Ladybug definitely didn't have the patience.

"Everything alright?" Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug sighed. "Being knocked out like that wasn't fun. I didn't even have the chance to transform - and if my kwami hadn't woken me up, you would have been left by yourself!"

"I can handle myself," Chat Noir replied. "And you would have woken up eventually."

"Yes, but-" Ladybug sighed. "I'm starting to think that we need a new strategy. And more teammates."

Chat Noir perked up. "I noticed someone during today's fight who would make a great teammate! She was fast enough to keep from being hit by Puddler, and she's really mature!"

"Who are you thinking of?" Ladybug asked.

"You remember Timetagger? And Bunnyx?"

Ladybug shook her head. "I know that Alix is ready for her Miraculous, but the bunny Miraculous isn't to be used lightly. We'll call on her when we really need help."

"Okay, what about Marinette?"

"Chat-"

"She was a lifesaver as Multimouse," Chat Noir continued. "Even if she was a bit careless afterwards, it's only because she trusts us."

"I'll think about it," Ladybug replied. "But keep your eyes open for someone else."

"I only have eyes for you, my lady," Chat Noir answered.

Ladybug rolled her eyes. "I need to go. I'll see you later, Chat Noir."

"My heart will eagerly await your presence."

[ciestessde]

Phantasma Magica Ch. 6

STORY SUMMARY

Clockwork and the Observants send Danny to Hogwarts on a special mission. But, cryptic as ever, that Old Stopwatch never actually told him what would happen on it!!! “All you need to do right now, Daniel, is stay focused on your mission. And remember, the-” “‘The Lions with the time-turner, lightning-bolt scar, and hair like fire are friends; watch out for the rat; and the black dog is not a threat.’ Yeah, you’ve only repeated that a few dozen times today.”

Next → ← Previous (First)

When Danny returned later the next day, things were mostly how he had expected to find them: most of the students had left for the holidays, the Trio were talking in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, and Harry looked absolutely exhausted. Against what he had expected, however, the other two weren’t trying to comfort Harry. Ron was getting angry. Hermione was on the verge of tears. They were trying to convince Harry not to go after Black. That it was too dangerous. That the dementors and other authorities would catch him. That the biggest piece of Pettigrew they could find (after Black blew him up) was his finger.

Danny didn’t interfere; it really wasn’t his place to. But if Harry wanted to go after Black, he would gladly help him. Ron gave up, suggesting they should go visit Hagrid. Harry, wanting to ask Hagrid why he had never told him about Black, readily agreed, and Danny (both because he dared not let Harry out of sight in this state, and because he wanted to hear more about Black himself) followed them to the hut -- which was far too close to the dementors’ patrols for the phantasm’s comfort.

But when they arrived, it was far from a happy holiday greeting that they received -- the half-giant was sobbing and, after letting them inside his small hut, shoved a letter toward Harry to read. Danny, having learned his lesson about getting distracted and tuning people out, listened… But was still slightly distracted, not by the large dog, but by the EVEN LARGER… horse… eagle… hybrid creature- it looked like if someone had decided to make a pegasus, but added the head of the bird too. BUT! Danny did manage to listen past his shock (for the most part). The letter was some court order, saying that Hagrid’s “hippogriff” (which, he figured out, was the not-a-pegasus) named “Buckbeak” did something bad, and, after a hearing (which sounded like it would be completely bogus), the Ministry’s “Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures” were likely going to execute the poor thing.

Ron, Hermione, and even Harry -- his anger now thoroughly diffused -- did their best to comfort Hagrid, promising they’d help him make a good case for Buckbeak’s innocence. Calmer, petting his dog’s head and with a cup of hot tea in front of him, Hagrid admitted, “I’ve not bin meself lately. Worried abou’ Buckbeak, an’ no one likin’ me classes--” “We do like them!” Hermione said, lying rather convincingly. “Yeah, they’re great!” Danny noticed Ron’s fingers crossed under the table. “Er-- how are the flobberworms?” “Dead,” Hagrid said gloomily, “Too much lettuce.” “Oh no!” Ron’s lip twitched, making his lie rather unconvincing.

“An’ them dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an’ all.” Hagrid shuddered. “Gotta walk past ‘em ev’ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. ‘S like bein’ back in Azkaban--” He cut off, and the room went silent. ‘Azkaban…?’ “Is it awful in there, Hagrid?” Hermione asked timidly. “Yeh’ve no idea. Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin’ mad…” He described, to Danny’s disgust, a prison guarded by dementors sucking the happiness and, eventually, the very life-essence out of every prisoner, night and day.

“But you were innocent!” Hermione cried. Hagrid snorted. “Think that matters to them? They don’ care. Long as they’ve got a couple o’ hundred humans stuck there with ‘em, so they can leech all the happiness out of ‘em, they don’ give a damn who’s guilty an’ who’s not.” He was quiet, then said, “Thought o’ jus’ letting Buckbeak go… tryin’ ter make him fly away… but how d’yeh explain ter a hippogriff it’s gotta go inter hidin’? An’--an’ I’m scared o’ breakin’ the law…” He looked up, tears leaking out his eyes, “I don’ ever want ter go back ter Azkaban.”

If there was anything that his best friend Sam had rubbed off on him while he was still human, it was her dual loves of nature and freedom. And Danny already had not-so-friendly feelings for the dementors around this castle. So to hear about a prison guarded by them, and then a section of government devoted to “disposing” of creatures they disapproved of… Danny was developing some not-so-friendly feelings for the wizards’ “Ministry” as well…

So Danny was quite eager to help with the Trio’s research in building a defense for Buckbeak. He helped them pour over volume after volume, and article after article, for anything even remotely relevant to Buckbeak’s case (He had clawed the arm of a student -- ‘Malfoy. Why is it always Malfoy???’ -- who’d provoked him, directly against Hagrid’s instructions to the class). The research, to Hermione and Ron’s relief, also distracted Harry from searching for and worrying over Sirius Black.

Eventually, Danny needed a break. He’d been stuck inside this castle (which, though big, consisted of the same rooms as ever) for too long, his eyes were swimming with fancy law terms and news articles, and his visit to the side-town “Hogsmeade” was cut short before. So, after satisfying himself that his friends would be safe for a few hours without him, Danny followed the tunnel under the Whomping Willow -- eager to investigate why it had been blocked off.

The tree’s flailing branches passed right through him, and he entered a tunnel that was dark even for Danny’s night-vision. It let out into what seemed to be an abandoned house -- only this one had scratches and claw-marks all over the inside. ‘I wonder what this place is…?’ Turning invisible and intangible, Danny flew straight up and through the ceiling and the roof, then turned around. ‘Oh! This must be the “Shrieking Shack!”’

He had heard about some of the highlights of Hogsmeade from Ron and Hermione. Judging by the run-down appearance of the house below him, and the fence around the yard, this was the house that was supposed to be haunted. ‘I don’t feel any presences, though… Except maybe a few animals. But I guess that’s not surprising! Figures that it’s not actually haunted, heh!’

Danny surveyed the rest of Hogsmeade from above. He couldn’t buy anything, but it could be fun to look around the shops anyway. Especially that joke shop! ‘I’ll leave that for last!’ He floated down to street-level, deciding to start with the post-office. It was like a busy zoo enclosure, with owls of all sizes flying around and waiting to have letters attached to them. Next was the candy store -- which seemed almost like a joke shop unto itself! There were some free samples, too, which he took a few of for later. In one barrel was some blood-flavored lollipops, though… which reminded him: ‘There’s something to mention to Professor Lupin later… Phantasms’ worst enemies aren’t dementors, they’re vampires. Guess they’re part of this… “magical community.” Better keep my eyes out.’

The joke shop was just as fun as he thought it’d be and better. There were several items he knew Tucker (his other best friend…) would’ve gotten a kick out of -- and plenty he knew Sam could’ve found all sorts of uses for! ‘Oh, man… A quill that misspells EVERYTHING you write…! I mean, I would’ve had to convince him to use a quill first -- but Mr. Lancer would have HATED this thing…!’ So, with a mental list of things he wanted for Christmas (in case anyone asked), Danny turned back toward the Shrieking Shack for one last look at it before returning to the castle.

‘How did this place get SO torn up…’ There were claw marks going from ceiling to floor. The floor itself was a network of scratches in every direction. There wasn’t a single piece of untouched furniture… ‘Well, something clearly used to live here--’ His tour came to a halt when he entered a bedroom. Sitting on the bed, staring him straight in the eyes… A face from a wanted poster flashed through Danny’s mind…

‘Sirius Black…’

Silently, and before the man could react, Danny dove, grabbed him by the throat, and pinned him to the wall. His ethereal flames danced in his right hand; the claws of his left pricked the skin of Black’s throat, dripping a tiny bit of blood on his prison uniform -- before the wounds froze over, frost covering his shoulder and the wall behind. The windows faced away from the sun -- Danny was the only light in the room. Sirius was frozen -- though not literally. His mind was back in Azkaban. Except… this wasn’t a dementor in front of him- WHAT WAS THIS?!

Danny couldn’t decide whether to kill him now -- ‘I’m NOT an animal! I am NOT a MURDERER!!’ -- or bring him to the castle -- ‘They’ll just kill him anyway!’ Danny growled, frustrated and hungry -- vibrating and shaking Sirius’ heart in his chest. Which was all Sirius needed to snap out of it and remember how he escaped the dementors--

Danny couldn’t do a thing as he watched the criminal morph -- into a BLACK DOG -- ‘The black dog is not a threat’ -- escape his grip -- ‘Black dog is not a threat’ -- and run for the tunnel under the Whomping Willow...

‘Black is not a threat…’ …

Danny floated there, in that bedroom, with his arm outstretched, for a good half-hour out of shock.

‘What… do I do now… ‘Clockwork…?’

~~~~~

You can now follow the Podfic Version of this story on AO3. I’ll also try to remember to post links to individual chapters here on Tumblr, as well, though!

As always, if you like this, please REBLOG!

(Updates every Wednesday until completion.)

Other places you can find this fic: Fanfiction.net/~ciestess ArchiveOfOurOwn.org/users/Ciestess/profile Deviantart.com/Ciestess

Next → ← Previous (First)

[laurels-blog]

Harry Potter and the Cursed Sister

Chapter One

Chapter Two

I woke up and looked in the mirror. I starred at my scar. I finally know how I got it. Voldemort cursed my half brother, Harry Potter, and since we’re twins it somehow cursed me as well. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together. We literally have the same scar, in the same place, how could that be a coincidence? It makes sense as to why my father looked at Harry with worry, he knew this would happen. My pet owl started hooting at me.

“Saint, can’t you tell that this is not the time?” I said, turning to my all black owl. As I glanced over, my clock had said 10:00, I missed breakfast, and now I am missing my History of Magic class. I know I shouldn’t be missing class, but I can’t bring myself to face the school, they all would know by now, word travels fast. My biggest concern was facing my new found brother. 

It’s about 12 right now, which is lunch time. I still chose to stay in my room, not wanting to deal with anyone quite yet, also didn’t want to be reprimanded by my father for missing his class. As I sat looking in the mirror, I heard a small knock on my door.

“(Y/N), I know you could use someone to talk too.” The familiar voice said. I decided it was best to talk about the situation. I got up and walked to the door.

“Hermoine, you know you’re not suppose to be up in the Slytherin’s dorm.” I sighed.

“No one had the guts to come and talk to you.”

“Why?” I said confused.

“Well.. as a first year, you know more than most do. People slightly fear you because you’re so much more advanced than the rest of us. We didn’t know if you were angry. Not that we think you’d hurt anyone.” SHe rambled on.

I am fine.” 

“Stop saying that. It’s not just me who ais worried about you. Every single house is. The professor’s are. Malfoy and his dynamic duo approached the Gryffindor table asking about you. He was going to come up here if one of I hadn’t.” She said. I smiled, Hermoine may belong to a different house but I know she’s going to become my best friend.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, at least talk to them.” 

“Oh Hermoine.” I said, crying, yet again. She sat there hugging me. “I just don’t know how I am feeling anymore. Part of me is angry that my mother didn’t want me, I want to be angry with Harry because she chose him. But I can’t be. He grew up without parents. I feel bad for avoiding him I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.”

“(Y/N)!” Hermoine exclaimed.

“What?” 

“You didn’t tell me you were a metomorphmagus!!” She smiled.

“I’m not?” I questioned.

“As you were talking, as your emotions changed, your hair color changed. When you were talking about being angry, you hair turned a fiery red, when you started feeling sad about Harry, it was a pale blue. Now it’s a light grey turning back to your natural dark hair.”

“Whoa, I never knew I could do that!” I laughed.

“You know (Y/N), you should probably get some quidditch practice in. Tomorrow’s your first match.” She smiled. She was completely right, I had forgotten all about it.

“You’re right, I can get flying practice in while everyone else is in their one o’clock classes.” I smiled. I hugged Hermoine.

“I’ll walk you down.” She smiled. As we walked towards the practice field, I felt all the eyes on us, Hermoine gave my hand a reassuring squeeze to remind me that she’s there for me. when we got to the empty field, I summoned my broomstick. I turned to Hermoine and gave her a warm smile. She smiled back and began walking away. I mounted my broomstick when I heard her call my name.

“(Y/N)!!” She yelled, I turned back to her, as if to say yes. “Kick some Ravenclaw butt tomorrow.” She smiled and left.

When I was on my broomstick nothing else mattered, I always wore a smile of pure joy. I must’ve been on the broomstick for hours perfecting my techniques because it was definitely almost pitch black. I would’ve kept riding until I heard someone call my name.

“Snape!” The voice said. I knew exactly who it was. I lowered my broom to the ground and got off, walking towards the voice, not being able to see where I was going. I pulled out my wand a whispered “Lumos.”

“Good evening Draco.” I smiled, something about him made me feel warm inside.

“You seem prepared for tomorrow’s match.” He smiled.

“I hope so, being a first year and the seeker adds a whole lot of pressure.”

“From what I just observed you’ll do fine. I just wanted to say good luck tomorrow.” He said, walking away.

“Thank you!” I smiled. “Oh, and Malfoy?” 

“Yes?” He turned.

“Thank you for being concerned about me earlier, it was... sweet of you.” I smiled. 

“Oh, yeah, that was uh nothing.” He blushed and he began walking away.

“Malfoy!” I said, once more.

“Yeah?” He laughed.

“Walk with me to the common room?” I smiled.

“I’d love too.” 

“You know, you’re not so bad.” I smiled to him.

“Wow, neither are you.” He laughed back. Draco and I talked for what felt like hours. I really hit it off with him.

“Are you going to come watch me play?” I smiled at him.

“I wouldn’t wanna miss the first quidditch match, or miss you play.” He smiled. I let off a slight blush.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow than?”

“Goodnight Snape.” He said.

“Goodnight Malfoy.” I said before heading to my dorm for a good night’s sleep.

I woke up and put my quidditch robes on, today’s the day. The first match of the season. Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw. I put my hair into half up and half down space buns and braided my side hairs and headed to breakfast.

“Look at you (Y/N), you rock the quidditch uniform.” Draco said as I walked past, “whoa, your hair!”

“(Y/N), your hair is a blush pink.” Hermione came up and whispered. My face went pink.

“Oh no, Malfoy’s gonna know I have a slight crush.” I was so embarrassed.

“Oh (Y/N), your hair is yellow now, you’re embarrassed.” Hermione moaned.  I mouthed thank you to her as I sat with with Draco and his friends. I was all nervous throughout breakfast, Draco knew, but I didn’t know if it was because my hair changed color again or what. After a bit, in came owls, mail time.

“Whoa look at that big package.” Crabbe said. As if on que, the package dropped in front of me. My eyes went big.

“Well Snape!! Open it!” Goyle said. So I did, my eyes went even bigger.

“A custom Nimbus 2000?!” Crabbe said. I looked at the handle and carved into it said, “Good luck (Y/N), thank you for befriending our son. - the Malfoys” My hair had to have gone back to blush pink, Malfoy talked about me to his parents.

“You’ll have to tell your parents I said thank you.” I smiled. Malfoy nodded. My nerves calmed down after that.

Soon enough it was time for the first quidditch match. I remained in the great hall to talk to my family.

“Aww, the best of luck!!” Aunt Minerva said, kissing my cheek. “I’ll be cheering you on from the scoreboard.”

“You’ve got this sweetheart.” Uncle Flitwick chimed in. “Although, Ravenclaw will win.” He winked.

“Look at my sweet daughter, about to kick butt in her first quidditch match. I am so proud of you! Good luck!” My dad kissed my forehead. I was ready to do this. I headed to the locker room.

“Snape! You need to be on your A game, we have to win this.” Captain Marcus Flint said.

“You got it!” I smiled. I was confident in this, I had been practicing and practicing, I knew my broom techniques and flying techniques all to well, I got this.

“The first match of the season, Slytherin against Ravenclaw. Coming onto the field is Ravenclaw, led by Captain Davies, who’s full of upper class men.” Jordan Lee announced. “On the other side of the field, we have Slytherin, led by Captain Flint, his team has all strong candidates of upper class men, and one first year, (Y/N) Snape, who is rumored to be an outstanding quidditch player.”

The game began, I kept my eye open for the golden snitch. My eyes scanned the crowds, in the sea of maroon in Gryffindor’s section I noticed a lot of dark green. I squinted to get a better look at who it was. Hermione had gotten the Weasley boys and Harry to wear green with her, to support me. I smiled at her. I continued to scan the crowd and noticed Malfoy with the biggest grin on his face, I smiled back. As I looked at Malfoy I spotted the snitch, I zoomed towards it. Soon enough the Ravenclaw seeker spotted what I was after and joined me. We chased it and chased it. We must’ve been 25 feet in the air, the Ravenclaw seeker backed down, seemed to be scared of heights. I neared the snitch and I was close to snatching it when my broom went out of control. I hung on for life. It was throwing me around like I was riding a bull. I reached out my hand, in hopes to grab the snitch. I closed my hand and next thing I knew I was hurling towards the ground.

Sorry, it’s late, I’ve been busy busy this week.

I hope you’re enjoying the story so far!

Sidenote: As for the daily imagines, those will only be Monday-Friday, excluding Wednesday’s because that’s this story update day. I won’t post on holidays either.

[fromthe-seoul]

Seventeen Ways to Succeed in College: Do Your Reading

“neither of us bought the expensive textbook but there is only one copy in the library and it can’t leave the building”

genre: fluff

words: 1.9k

a/n: welcome to the first in a new series; seventeen ways to succeed in college! we begin with our beloved leader, s.coups, who is honestly a joy to write. i hope you all enjoy this new endeavor, and let me know what you think!

The first week of classes is always an unfortunate shitstorm of finding rooms, poring over syllabi, and deciding which textbooks are worth going broke over. In an executive decision, you had decided that your microeconomics textbook just did not make the cut, and as a result, you would be spending a solid hour in the library every other day to do your reading. Thankfully, your professor had anticipated that the majority of you were without books for at least the first week, and you were going to take advantage of every scanned-in page you could. 

Whoever came up with the idea that college textbooks should single-handedly have the ability to make a student go broke can go die in a very long, very deep hole. Whoever decided that there could be only one copy of said expensive textbook on reserve in the library can also be subjected to a long, torturous existence. 

Alas, the kindness of professors only lasts so long, and you tried to make as little noise as possible shuffling through the stacks of books, on a long hunt for the elusive economics textbook. After consulting both the librarian and the online catalogue, you knew you were in the right aisle, but after craning your neck sideways to read the titles, you came upon a solitary empty slot...right where your textbook should be. It took everything in you not to swear loudly in the middle of the deadly quiet study floor. 

After taking a moment to compose yourself and not commit a minor crime, you resigned yourself to having to bullshit your way through discussion this week and headed for the stairs. However, out of vague curiosity and boredom, you decided to peek through the windows of the private study rooms as you walked by. Several project groups were already having disagreements, and you shuddered at the thought of having to deal with something so asinine this early in the semester. Yet amidst all the stressed out students, in the very last study room before the door, you spotted a vaguely familiar mop of messy black hair, accompanied by sleepy brown eyes and a jawline to die for. Your feet stopped in their path and you inched closer to the window. 

Inside the tiny little room sat a boy from your discussion (...Seungcheol? Was that his name?) and on the table, open to the first chapter, was the textbook you were desperate to get your hands on. Without thinking, you gently rapped your knuckles against the wood before twisting the handle and slipping into the room. 

“Hey...Seungcheol?” you exclaimed as said boy craned his neck to see who was invading his study room. A light of recognition flashed in his pupils and he granted you a gummy smile (which you tried to brush away with the flip flop of your heart).

 “Hey, _____! Are you looking for the econ textbook?” 

He gestured to the chair beside his own and you inwardly sighed in relief before flopping down. Seungcheol had been nothing but sweet for the few weeks you had known him within the realm of your discussion section. On the first day, he lent you a pen since you (like a true upperclassman) forgot a writing utensil. And it was a nice pen, and he didn’t even remind you to give it back. It was perhaps unnatural and slightly unbelievable how nice he was to you, but if anyone was going to have the textbook at this moment, you were glad it was him. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, “this class just isn’t worth the hundred and fifty dollars for a book I’ll never use again.”

“Same here, I figured I’ll just come here every time we have reading, but I don’t mind sharing!” He chuckled, and you couldn’t help but join him, hoping that whatever good karma you had apparently racked up to reward you with two hours with a hot, nice boy every week wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass. Perhaps sharing one copy of a library textbook wouldn’t be so bad. 

So began your weekly meetups with Seungcheol. Every Sunday and Wednesday you would snag the empty study room at the end of the hall and settle in with a nice long brain-melting chapter of economics. It felt natural, with Seungcheol’s easygoing nature it was less monotonous and you felt less like smacking your forehead with the book trying to read about GDP and supply and demand curves. If one of you struggled with a concept, it was an unspoken rule for the other to try and explain the best they could, and if not, the both of you would just accept defeat until next class. 

Slowly but surely, these meetups turned into study sessions even beyond economics. You learned that Seungcheol was an elementary education major and loved working with kids. 

(“Why are you even in this class then? It has nothing to do with teaching.”

“Listen, I just need a math and science credit.”)

It also turned into sneaking food into the library for the long hours ahead, and even cups of coffee with enough talent and luck. 

(“How did you even get that cup in here without spilling? Your backpack doesn’t even have pockets!”

“What can I say, I have an exceptional sense of balance. Now hurry before I spill it all over my computer.”)

Sometimes you even bagged the idea of studying altogether and used the oversized computer monitor for purposes completely unrelated to education.

(“An hour-long vine compilation? Are you serious right now, Seungcheol?”

“I have had eight-year-olds yelling in my ears all day, I  deserve this.”)

Somewhere between him buying you your favorite candy to snack on and you lending him your earbuds when his broke on the bus, the universe shifted slightly. Not drastically, but just enough where you noticed, like someone shifted all the furniture four inches to the left. Just enough to catch your knee on the sofa. 

You suddenly became dreadfully aware of Seungcheol’s constant attention to you. Your heart began to flutter and nearly cave in whenever he would gaze at you with that beautiful smile. His thoughtfulness made you feel special, and even when in the worst mood Seungcheol could bring mirth to your lips. Sometimes, only when you were quick enough, you could catch him studying you with a curious expression amidst his features. You’d glance his way and his eyes would revert back to their signature sleepiness, and against your will, your cheeks would burn with inexplicable heat. Those traitors.

There was no “aha!” moment, no magical realization that you liked Seungcheol, that you like liked him. It would come and go in waves of your stomach dropping whenever his puppy eyes were trained on you, when you snuggled yourself into the cologne-tinged hoodie he wordlessly gave to you when he saw goosebumps on your arms, when he remembered minute little details you had spouted on a whim once. You weren’t quite sure what to do with this new information. Seungcheol never once mentioned a girlfriend; he was seemingly preoccupied in keeping track of his twelve closest friends, who, in your mind, hadn’t yet mastered the art of self-sufficiency yet. But the way he smiled when he recounted all their crazy antics made you curious to meet these boys. You wondered half-heartedly if he had told them about you, but brushed that pesky thought aside almost as quickly as it came. Why would he tell his brothers about little old you?

Soon the leaves began to fall from their branches, the sun hidden earlier and earlier, and exams were looming; the unspoken month of communal exhaustion and giving up taking its toll on everyone you see on the sidewalk was upon you. With the final economics exam taking up a large portion of the stress emanating from your body, you were holed up in the library more often than usual, Seungcheol usually joining you in fighting for a study room amidst the hundreds of people looking for a quiet place to break down. He fed your caffeine monster with enough coffee to power a marathon runner, and in exchange, you provided enough snacks to feed an entire soccer team after a championship game. Your system just worked, and the stability it brought you was enough to make you think there might be a light at the end of the tunnel called finals week. 

Seventeen hours before your final economics exam, late in the night after most sane students had abandoned their studying to finally collapse facedown into bed, the two of you sat in your usual room. The well-worn textbook rested on the table, witness to the birth and growth of a beautiful friendship, and perhaps silent receiver of the mourning of unrequited feelings. You stared blankly, body exhausted and mind drained. It didn’t seem like this would be the last time you would “have to” meet up with Seungcheol, the vague guise of sharing a textbook long gone. You didn’t want to think about what would happen after you left the room, after the exam was over, after you finally got to rest. 

Would Seungcheol still want to be your friend? Would he still give you his hoodies, bring you coffee, and tell you bad jokes? 

“So.” The boy sitting opposite you broke the silence, shaking you out of the spiral of negativity and bringing your attention to his face. His face was sallow, dark circles framing his eyelids, and his grin twisted wistfully, wrenching your heart in a way you didn’t think would hurt that much, but it did. 

“I’m kind of kicking myself for waiting so long to ask you this, but now I realize I’ve run out of time.” 

You gave him a quizzical look; he was never one to hold back in asking you anything. You wanted to respond, but nerves and the burn of your parched throat stopped you. Nevertheless, he continued.

“This semester, I was fully prepared to absolutely hate my life, but you managed to brighten it to the point where even my friends were asking who you were, and they didn’t even know you existed.” He chuckled wryly, casting his gaze to his fidgeting hands. “I’ve never been very good at expressing my feelings, and I hope I’m not ruining our friendship by asking if you’d like to go out with me.”

All at once it seemed like the air whooshed out of you. Your eyes felt like they would pop out as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your mind reeled as it tried to process the idea of your huge crush actually reciprocating your feelings, but Seungcheol seemed to take your shock as rejection. He quickly began to backpedal, but you would sooner fail every single one of your exams than let this slip by.

“Nonononono, Seungcheol, no,” you interrupted, frantically shaking your hands to prove your point, “I would love to go out with you, I promise.” 

You watched as his expression molded from horror to relief, his shoulders sagging, then shaking with self-deprecating laughter. His hands rubbed across his face, eyes peeking out at you with the smallest smile, which you tried to return amidst running a hand nervously through your hair. 

“Well,” he began, tucking his notebooks and pencil into his backpack, “how about we start tomorrow? After we both pass this goddamn exam?” His radiant, gummy smile was one you could never refuse. 

“Absolutely,” you agreed resolutely, following suit and shutting the textbook gently. 

It was finally time to go home and get some rest, for the big day ahead was now one to look forward to.

[pjstafford]

Smoke Rings Chapter 2

A couple of people asked to read more of my first attempt at a novel which I wrote in the nineties.  Read the first chapter: https://pjstafford.tumblr.com/post/165247149659/smoke-rings

A thought pops into my brain.  Why do I spend so much time partying and so little time studying.  I pushed the thought away as intrusive and worthless since  I knew it was a behavior that wasn’t going to change.  “Hey,”  my brain jumped to its own defense “I work full time.”  Sure, but I wasn’t married and I didn’t have children.  There was no excuse for not being better prepared for the end of the semester, but every semester was the same -playing catch up and beating myself up for having to play catch up.  

I often thought about giving it up.  I was taking one class a semester.  I was never going to earn a degree.  In this familiar thought monologue a voice from my favorite high school teacher would interject that I shouldn’t compare myself against anyone else but myself.  Did I know more today than I knew a day, week, month, year ago?  Typically this voice gave me inspiration to continue.  

This is why I was in the city library on a Sunday afternoon.  Despite the fact that it was late May the snow had returned to the Rockies and the library, which was heated to capacity, was still cold.  This semester was harder than the others.  Accounting sucked the life out of me.  However, I was a city clerical specialist and if I knew accounting I might get a transfer to a job that would suck the life out of me a little more but would pay a little better.  So, I studied accounting.  

Feeling like an icicle, I walked over to the wall of newspapers.  I loved the physical feel of a newspaper from another place.  With a newspaper in my hand from New York, I could imagine I was in Manhattan and would be leaving soon to catch the subway to see the traveling art exhibit or i was in London and later in the pub would say to someone...”Did you see that thing in the paper about that person who is so British and did this shocking thing?”  Never read the local paper- only the ones from places I would never visit.  On this day, though, even the papers would not keep my attention.  I was restless and bored to tears with my existence.  So I wandered the library in search of warmth.  

Beside the newspapers was a set of stairs which led to the basement.  I walked down there now and find a computer room, a microfiche room, archived offices closed on Sunday.  The floor was almost abandoned and colder than upstairs.  I crossed the floor to the West Wall, passed a set of bathrooms and found a flight of stairs back up.  About half way up the stairs was a landing.  A sign pointed to another set of stairs to the main floor.  To my left was a large alcove, noiseless and refrigerator cold.;  a space designed into a building by a designer who thought libraries should have hidden rooms and private places..  Three tables were in this room and despite the noiselessness was full of university types; serious students who had found the space by the stairs that almost no one knew about.  I started to walk right by and then something caught my eye.  

Bare feet!  Bare feet with bright purple polish on the recently pedicured toes.  Damn snow storm outside and here were bare feet, sandals lying beside the feet under the table.  Jeans were above the feet.  Above that was a t-shirt with a slogan for world peace, a red flannel shirt open over the t-shirt and a windbreaker over the flannel.  Her hair was still the long, blond, silky hair from  the Buckhorn bar.  Her face was devoid of make-up, large light brown glasses covered the eyes and she was reading a book of poetry.  If this had been a TV commercial she would be munching on a bowl of organic wheat flakes, but instead she was chewing on a pen.  It was the same girl, but she was different in this different environment.  I went backed to the main floor to my book on accounting and was able to focus until the library closed.  

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday - I spied on Trisha.  Of course, I was at the library anyway so its not like I went there intentionally, but as long as i was there...I spied.  Arriving at 6 p.m. I would take a ritualistic walk over to the newspapers down the stairs, across the basement to the West Wall past the bathrooms, u p the stairs and passed by the alcove landing half up the stairs.  Each night Trisha was there in her bare feet with the sandals beside the feet.  Every night a different t-shirt - green peace, green vote and, on Wednesday, a bright yellow shirt with a picture of Jimi Hendrix on it.  Her hair remained the same.  One night she wore Southwestern jewelry over the t-shirt.  

Trisha became my escape into another world the way the newspapers once were but no longer sufficed  Who was this exotic creature really?  What life did she live?  I began to look forward to the fact that I would catch a glimpse of her each night.  However, I would remember that night at the Buck and hate myself for the compulsion to spy on her.  On Wednesday I stopped before I got to the alcove and started to turn around.  Then I heard the voices.  They were soft spoken but seemed to vibrate off the walls- loud in the otherwise noiseless space.  

“Here are the notes you asked me for, but I don’t think you can understand the book without reading it.”  Trisha’s voice was matter of fact  

“I just don’t understand why this class isn’t called American Literature no one wants to read.  i thought I would get a grounding on classic American literature, but the teacher went “diverse.”  The only white guys we’ve read are these beatniks and were they really that popular even in the fifties?   Why do I need tto read his stuff?” 

“Why did you enroll in the class to begin with?” Trisha asked.  

“Oh, my dad thought if I took a graduate level class I would develop some “depth”.  I’m majoring in pre-med and he thought I was taking too much science.  He wanted to be sure I had some balance and he is paying the bills, but really, who has time for “depth” in today’s job market?” 

There was silence then until the man’s voice, bored and uninterested in the subject, asked a question “So why did you take the class?  Are you a graduate student in literature?”

“Our world is becoming smaller and we see on television and read in the papers selective viewpoints,”  Trisha’s voice was rich with emotion.  “In the literature of the United States are the strong and vibrant voices of the worlds within our world.  The woman contemplating suicide because she doesn’t want to be a housewife, the black man asking why he should vote just because now he can, the native american who asks why we are so sure everything is linear.  The wanderer and outcasts who live beyond society’s norms.  During the section on the beats, I spent an entire night walking through Denver looking for Dean Moriarty’s father or at least his spirit.  Neal Cassady inspired Kerouac to write the character of Dean Moriarty, but then Cassady also appears in Tom Wolfe’s book and he inspired the Dead to write songs.  How can we say we know America and Americans if we can’t fathom Neal Cassady’s existence?”

I didn’t know who Cassady was.  I had never read Kerouac or Tom Wolfe.  I suddenly hated that I was studying accounting to progress to another job and a small step increase in pay and not exploring the worlds that were around me.  I wanted to know Trisha.  Then, I stopped and reminded myself of how disgusted i was with her at the Buckhorn.  I did not want to know her. I heard the sound of chairs sliding and quickly went down the stairs into the restroom, past another woman and into a stall before Trisha could see me as she also entered the restroom.  I stayed in the stall, heard a toilet flush, and then heard a conversation between Trisha and the other woman in the restroom.  The other woman was a little older.  

“Aren’t you in my history class?  I’m heading home to finish that paper now.”

“Oh, yeah.  I’ve been working on it every night for one hour after the library closes.  I could get lost in it so I’m having to discipline myself to make sure I do other work.”

“I have to discipline myself to work on it.  Wish my problem was having to tear myself away. “

“I picked an interesting topic.” 

“You are such a study hound, but life is too short.  You know you are so beautiful.  Why don’t you lose the flannel and the jeans, get contacts, buy a silk blouse, wear a little make up.  Enjoy yourself why you are young, lady.”

I almost snickered out loud.  This was the last advice Trisha needed.  

The close call made me rethink what I was doing with my spying on Trisha.  Who needed her or an exploration into alternative worlds?  I needed to stay focus on what was obtainable.  Thursday night I aced my final.  Friday and Saturday I scrammed out of town to hang with Sly and Wayne in Laramie.  Sunday found me back in town.  I had beaten yet another late Spring storm snow into Denver.  It was a bleak, cold, gruesome day.  I tried watching television, reading, cleaning.  I left my home to buy groceries and somehow, for some reason, found myself back at the library.  Finals were continuing another week at the U, but I was done until the Fall.  There was no need for me to be there.  I went to the wall of newspapers and picked up an Italian newspaper,  I knew some Spanish and could make out of the words in the sister language.  I was at a villa in my mind getting read to meet an Italian lover.  

I saw bare feet standing next to me and looked up from the newspaper.  Trisha picked up the LA Times and flopped down in a chair next to me.  “There’s an interesting article in here about why Edward Albee plays are gaining popularity in community theater groups.”  It was like we were best friends in the middle of a conversation  “I turned in my paper comparing New England and Southwestern poems by the way.  I only have one final left and it is in my Western Film class.  I hate Western’s personally, so will be glad when that class is over.”  

Trisha put her paper down and looked over her glasses at me.  Her eyes were not outstanding.  They were plain, ordinary eyes which were a little red from eye strain.  Suddenly her voice became angry.  “You’ve been studying me while I’ve been studying literature, history and film.  Have I answered all of your questions? “  Suddenly I feared I was about to be served a restraining order.  I felt like a stalker.  I started to explain, but I am not fast on my feet.  The more I explained, the more I sounded like an idiot.  

“I haven’t been studying you.  It’s a public library, you know.  I have a right to be here.  I started talking walks and when I saw you I was interested.  No, not interested, mildly curious, but all I was doing is walking by,  I just eavesdropped a little.  I mean I didn’t really eavesdrop or if I did I didn’t mean to.  “

I had lost all dignity and sounded nuts.  Damn it - might as well tell the truth- although I wasn’t sure what the truth was until I said it out loud.  I did know the woman beside me in bare feet and bare face was more interesting than all the foreign newspapers I could read.  “I can’t believe you are the same woman as that woman at the Buck.  I do have a lot of questions about you .  When I think of you I feel on edge, jittery, as if something important is about to happen.  Its like a suspense story.  You want to turn it off and forget about it, but you are afraid that if you blink you will miss some horrible scary but really good part.  I must know more about you.”  The intensity of my feeling- the fact that this mundane Sunday at the library was suddenly fill with a thick air of possibility - terrified me.  I felt like I was on the edge of a ledge and I didn’t know if it was better to fall off or step away to safety.  

“Look.  I have a life.  I am way too busy for intrusions.  I haven’t invited you to be part of my life and I don’t have an obligation to fulfill your curiosity.  Leave me alone.” 

“I’m not gay.”  I don’t know why I felt the need to spell that out.  “I just want to know your life and what it is like to be you a little better..  How can I know about your world  if I don’t know you and I want to know your world.” 

Trisha looked at me for what seemed like a long time.  

“Friday night.  My finals will be over.  I’ll be at a bar in Fort Collins.  I’m sure you can find me.  “

I nodded relieved, ashamed and determined not to find her on Friday night.  I did not need her in my life.  

[kykru-blog]

Let’s Face The Music And Dance - Chapter 1

Hi everyone! I’ve been working on a High School!AU where the delinquents are in an Acapella group, because that’s what my brain decided. It should be about 5 chapters, I’ve written half of it already, so I thought it was about time I posted the first part, if anybody’s interested in reading it. The next chapters should be up in the next few days. Please let me know what you think, but please remember that I know next to nothing about the technicalities of acapella singing, so i’m hugely sorry for anything that isn’t right! I hope somebody beside me thinks this was a good idea.

Here’s a snippet and the rest of Chp 1 is under the cut:

“Name and grade?” Monty was asking.

“Erm, Bellamy Blake, senior,” He replied in a deep voice that sent a shiver down Clarke’s spine. “Sorry if I suck at this, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Just sing your best and we’ll do the rest,” Monty reassured him smoothly. Jasper snickered at the rhyming.

“Right, yeah,” Bellamy seemed to be agreeing with himself, then coughed awkwardly and raised the microphone to begin singing.

Chapter 1

Clarke was fairly confident that Raven was late on purpose.

She wasn’t sure whether it was to teach her a lesson on being too controlling, or to force her to spend some time with her mother while she waited in the kitchen for Raven to arrive.

Whichever one it was, Clarke was not happy.

As soon as she’d realised that Raven was late by design, she’d acted in the most stubborn way she could think of: she took her morning coffee outside onto the front porch, into the blissfully fresh, sunny morning air, ignored her mother’s attempts at small talk, and glared at the main road.

When the sound of screeching tyres followed by Raven’s beaten up red jeep rounded the corner, she abandoned her coffee on the porch and stomped over to the passenger side door.

“About time, Raven,” she admonished as she pulled herself, her pile of notes and paperwork, and her oversized bag into the seat and adjusted her seatbelt.

Raven grinned, pulling her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. “Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine.”

“We agreed you’d get here by 8.30,” Clarke ignored her friend’s sarcasm.

“No,” Raven pointed out patiently as she pulled out into traffic. “You demanded I get here for 8.30. In an effort to be less argumentative, I decided to forgo verbally disagreeing with you.”

Clarke huffed out an irritated sigh and shot Raven another glare. “You could have mentioned it, Raven.”

“I figured you’d enjoy having something to stress about,” she shrugged. “After all, it’s only the first day back at school, you don’t have any deadlines or extracurricular socials to stress about just yet, and I know you, Clarke - if you don’t find something to raise your blood pressure fast enough, you’ll implode.”

“I like to stay busy,” she argued.

Raven shot her a wicked smirk. “I hope you plan on staying busy in more than just social clubs this year, Clarke.”

She wagged her eyebrows in emphasis. Clarke gave her an eye roll and tilted her head to the side in an unamused gesture, but there was mirth behind her eyes.

“You’re a bad influence, Raven Reyes,” she told her as they pulled into the school parking lot.

Students walked across the pavement, across the road, across the bike lane, and generally jaywalked all over the place in an excited buzz that only a summer away could generate.

“Don’t I know it,” Raven beamed back proudly, then promptly slammed on the brakes and banged both fists against the horn in an angry huff. “Get out of the fucking road, Murphy!”

He flipped her off and took his sweet time getting out of the way. “Learn to drive, Reyes!”

“Says the boy without a license!” She yelled back, then caught Clarke grinning at her. “What?” She asked, self-conscious.

“You’re doing well with this ‘being less argumentative’ thing.”

“Oh, bite me, Griffin.”

“Oh, you wish,” Clarke joked, causing Raven to bark out a laugh.

They pulled into a parking space fairly close to the main entrance, with only minor difficulty and a minimal number of close calls with the teeming crowd of students.

An impeccably clean silver Audi pulled into the space beside them, and two seconds later Monty and Jasper bounded out of the car and joined them on the pavement. They had both spent a huge amount of time this summer abroad, with their respective families and then together at some sort of obscure sci-fi convention that Clarke couldn’t remember the name of, so she hadn’t really seen either of them apart from on FaceTime since the end of the last school last year. They both looked exactly the same as they had then, although Jasper was sporting a slight bit of stubble, and Monty had bought new glasses with thicker frames.

“Rey-es!” Jasper cupped his hands to his mouth and pretended to call to her as if he was a football coach.

“Jasper!” Raven pulled him into a gentle headlock and ruffled Monty’s hair with her spare hand. “Monty!”

“Hey Raven, hey Clarke,” Monty waved to them as he attempted to edge out of Raven’s reach and smooth down his hair. “How were your summers?”

“Nothing special,” Raven shrugged.

They turned to head towards the school entrance.

“The usual,” Clarke added. “Summer work with my mum at the hospital, preparations for this year’s competition.”

Jasper groaned, exaggerating the noise. “You’re not already planning sectionals, Clarke. Please tell me you’re not.”

Clarke opened her mouth in exasperation as they reached her and Raven’s lockers. “What?” She demanded defensively. “It’s never too early to be prepared. And this is my last year, Jasper, we have to go further than regionals.”

“You just wanna get that free trip to New York,” Raven grinned as she pulled stuff out of her locker.

“I want to perform at the ICCAs on stage with you, my best friends, and be able to put that on my resume. What’s so bad about that?”

Monty shrugged in a ‘can’t-argue-with-that’ kind of way.

“There she goes already,” Raven sighed. “Clarke Griffin, Ms. Reasonable herself.”

“You know,” a voice sidled up to them as they began to head off down the hallway. “You’re gonna need some new voices to get all the way to New York, right?”

Clarke pursed her lips and clutched the pages of sheet music and notes in her hands. “I know, Murphy. You just focus on turning up to rehearsals this year, and leave vocal arrangements to me.”

“Just to reiterate,” Raven spoke up, pulling Clarke to a stop and putting both her hands on either of Clarke’s shoulders. “I know i’m just the lowly President here, but please ask me for help when you need it Clarke. I know you’re taking a crazy number of AP classes this year, so let me help when I can, yeah?”

Clarke nodded in seriousness, then pointed out. “You know, you’re taking more AP classes than I am, right?”

Raven smirked as she turned to head into the classroom on their left. “I know, but I’m a bona fide genius, so it’s really like i’m taking no classes at all.”

They all laughed as she disappeared and continued on to their Chemistry classroom.

“She’s right though, Clarke,” Monty spoke up kindly. “She is the President, if you need help, that’s what she’s there for.”

“Raven’s the President,” Clarke agreed. “But I’m the Musical Director, and everybody knows that that’s the real powerhouse behind acapella. Besides, Raven just took the job to put something different on her resume.”

“And because she’s a really bangin’ singer,” Murphy pointed out.

“And that,” Clark agreed.

“So where are you going to find a bass, a soprano and an alto worthy of Acapadia?”

She grinned. “Open auditions, obviously.”

They all groaned.

The bane of Clarke’s life was not AP Chemistry; it was not Mr Kane, who insisted on treating her like a daughter in class despite the fact that he’d only been dating her mother for four months; it wasn’t even the fact that their usual lunch table had been taken over by freshmen so they’d moved two tables down to the middle of the cafeteria.

No, the bane of Clarke’s life were The Ground Sound, the rival acapella group at their school.

They were of a more modern sound, having been put together by techno wizard and all-round audio genius, senior Lincoln Woods.

Both groups auditioned students together, usually on a Wednesday afternoon, and bartered their favourite picks before offering spaces to hopefuls. Usually, they disagreed and sometimes it got ugly. Mostly, it was because the Acapadia’s needed somebody that The Ground Sound simply wanted. The year before last, they’d been desperate for a mezzo-soprano, and one had materialised, new to the school, at the perfect moment. The Ground Sound had insisted that Lexa join their group instead, and an all-out war had commenced to win her over. She’d promised Clarke and the Acapadia’s to join them, but flaked on auditions, and come the day of sectionals, she’d turned up with The Ground Sound, fully rehearsed with their songs and in their co-ordinated outfits.

It had been messy, not least because her and Clarke had been dating tentatively, and since then both groups had barely been on speaking terms with each other.

Clarke secretly liked Lincoln, although she would never admit it to the others. He was down-to-earth, interested in art like her, and visually so intimidating that people would leave her alone if she sat near him in the library. Despite that, he was genuine and kind, and generally took a backseat in negotiations for new members. It was never personal, just business, and he always nodded to her in the hallway.

On Wednesday afternoon, she was setting up their desk in front of stage left in the school auditorium when Lincoln entered, laptop bag slung over his shoulder and two girls from his group at his side. They were usually an intimidating sight, especially on stage, but today they were laughing and teasing each other as they approached their desk stage right.

Lincoln nodded to her politely and then began setting up his things. Clarke continued to organise her papers and boss Jasper and Monty around until everything was perfect.

By the time all the current members from each group had arrived (including even Murphy, to Clarke’s surprise), there were six members of Acapadia and six members of The Ground Sound, making them evenly sized this year.

Clarke leaned over to speak to Lincoln before they called in the first audition. “You should know I know that you’re looking for an alto and a soprano.”

Lincoln eyed her suspiciously, then nodded once slowly. “That’s right.”

“So then, in the spirit of fair competition,” Clarke divulged. “You should know that we need a soprano, an alto and a bass.”

It took him by surprise, if the rapid blinking of his eyes was any indication. But then Lincoln nodded once again, and leaned back in his seat. “Thank you,” was all he said, but Clarke knew that he meant it.

“First auditionee, come to centre stage,” Echo, a senior sitting beside Lincoln, called out and the auditions began.

They were mostly promising. A few students really struggled their way through their chosen audition pieces, but most didn't need to be turned away.

The first three girls to audition were sopranos, and they were all perfect for what Clarke was looking for. Next came an audacious, confident freshman who could sing There Are Worst Things I Could Do for the rest of Clarke’s life and she wouldn’t be bored of hearing it. She put a star down by the girls name and slid the piece of paper over the Raven, raising an eyebrow.

Two juniors came next, auditioning at vaguely the same quality, but they were tenors and Clarke knew she didn’t need any more of that sound in their mix.

Lastly, a senior stepped up to centre stage, and peaked Clarke’s interest immediately. She must have sat up straighter in her chair, because Raven kicked her underneath the table and waggled her eyebrows at her.

“Stop,” Clarke whispered in admonishment, but Raven continued to smirk at her and eyed up the boy on stage.

“Name and grade?” Monty was asking.

“Erm, Bellamy Blake, senior,” He replied in a deep voice that sent a shiver down Clarke’s spine. “Sorry if I suck at this, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Just sing your best and we’ll do the rest,” Monty reassured him smoothly. Jasper snickered at the rhyming.

“Right, yeah,” Bellamy seemed to be agreeing with himself, then coughed awkwardly and raised the microphone to begin singing.

He was good. He was attractive. And he was a bass.

Clarke knew these factors might mean trouble, in more ways than one. She glanced across at Lincoln and Echo, who was traditionally the more confrontational of the two, and was pleased to see that, while they were interested in his voice, they were arguing seemingly about the necessity of him for their group.

When he was done singing Music of the Night from the Phantom of the Opera - coincidentally one of Clarke’s favourite musicals - he stepped off stage with another awkward shuffle and wave. It was odd really, because he seemed calm and cool otherwise, almost like a senior the younger girls would follow in the halls and fantasise about dating, and yet, he was clearly a complete dork in front of groups of people.

She sort of loved that about him. Damn it.

He had been the last to audition, so they broke into table discussions on who they wanted to offer places to, ready to fight for them against The Ground Sound afterwards.

“That first girl is a must,” Raven was saying.

“Her or the second one,” Murphy interjected. “She was good, and much hotter.”

Raven smacked him with a rather large library book. “Mind out of the gutter, Murphy. Do you not have any human decency at all?”

“I’m just saying,” he protested nonchalantly. “If we’ve gotta make a decision off something, why not that.”

Raven rolled her eyes and turned back to the list, pointing at the starred name. “We need Octavia. I honestly think I cried while she was performing.”

Clarke nodded, as did the others. “Agreed.”

“So that’s our soprano and alto sorted, what about the bass?”

“There’s only one option there,” Jasper pointed out.

“Please don’t tell me that Clarke’s gonna become all picky again like last year and reject our only option?” Murphy glared at her preemptively.

“No, actually,” Clarke huffed, a little self conscious about her next words. “He’s… perfect, actually.”

She tried to ignore Raven’s eyebrows as they wagged again. “Atta girl,” Raven smirked and elbowed her in the side.

“For the group, Raven,” Clarke hoped she wasn’t blushing as she stacked and restacked her piles of sheet music.

“Sure… sure,” Raven, to her credit, tried to hold in her laughter.

As it turned out, the Ground Sound had been arguing over Bellamy Blake because Echo wanted to claim him simply so that they couldn’t. Lincoln, tired of the drama and petty fights, had told her to shut up and stop talking. And so they’d agreed that Acapadia could offer Bellamy Blake a spot in their group.

The others were less straightforward - they’d liked the second girl, Emori, more than the first, so she was to be their pledge whilst Acapadia offered their soprano spot to a girl by the name of Harper.

Octavia Blake was the breaking point.

They’d been going round in circles for over twenty minutes before Miller decided to finally speak up. He was usually incredibly quiet in group discussions, always just did as he was told and went along like he wasn’t bothered by the outcome, but he was the one to interject to Clarke in a whisper, “I know she's good, Clarke, but we can get through this year without another alto.”

“Yeah,” Monty was quick to agree, leaning across the table to join in hushed tones. “We’ve got Raven, and we’ll manage with a mix of everybody’s voices.”

“It’s not worth all this arguing, to be honest,” Raven begrudgingly agreed.

Clarke sighed in frustration. She’d really wanted Octavia Blake.

“Fine,” she huffed out. “You can pledge her,” she told Lincoln and the others on his table. Luna and her brother slapped their hands hard against the table in victory as Echo smirked in triumph.

With the negotiations out of the way, they all began packing up their things. Traditionally they’d post a list up outside the auditorium, but since that practice was antiquated and the kids at school who didn’t live for acapella thought it was lame and used to tear them down, they now forwent that for a much simpler ‘leave-your-number-and-we’ll-text-you’ system.

Jasper bumped Clarke’s shoulder with his own as they walked up the central aisle and towards the exit. “Milkshakes at the Drop Ship? We can text Harper and Bellamy when we get there.”

“Sure,” Clarke agreed forlornly.

“Hey,” Raven slung an arm around her as they wandered through the door. “Octavia was good, but we haven’t lost anything by losing her to the Grounders. We’re still awesome, with the best musical director around, and we’re still gonna kick their ass at sectionals. And besides, she might not even want to join them, don’t lose hope yet.”

That did make Clarke feel a little better.

Harper had replied to their text within ten minutes, all excited capital letters and exclamation marks, and they’d all felt much better about losing Octavia to the Grounders. It had lifted Clarke’s spirits until she’d gotten home that night and realised that Bellamy Blake hadn’t yet replied.

Her mood only soured as Wednesday turned into Friday, and he still hadn’t replied.

She’d wanted to begin rehearsals that Saturday, but without a full sound it would all be rather pointless.

On Friday at lunch time, whilst she debated the subtleties of Founding Father politics with a girl from her homeroom, he walked straight past her, lunch tray in one hand and book in the other.

She didn’t blame him for missing her entirely, he had his nose so much in his book that she was surprised he hadn’t walked into anyone or even knew where he was going.

She nudged Raven.

“Ouch,” she complained with a mouthful of food. “I’m deep in thought about theoretical physics, it better be important Clarke?”

“Over there,” Clarke didn’t whisper, but she lowered her voice a little. “Blake.”

“Octavia?” Raven looked hopeful.

“No,” Clarke ground out. “Bellamy.”

Raven, Monty and Murphy all turned their heads towards him at the same moment.

“Where?”

“What’s he doing?”

“Has he still not replied to your text?”

“No,” Clarke huffed. “And I don’t know why. He could at least say something to me, we have three classes together.”

“It’s easy really, he’s still making a decision. He’s not sure whether he wants to continue with acapella now that his sister’s been offered a place with the Grounders,” Miller suddenly spoke up. He was focusing on his food, barely even making eye contact with the rest of them, but his words drew all their eyes on him.

“What?”

“What?!”

“I’m sorry, where exactly did you get this hidden intel?” Raven asked, exasperated.

Miller glanced up at them and shrugged. “He went to tryouts for ice hockey, he’s a reserve for Garrison, we chatted at lunch yesterday.”

Clarke was speechless.

“So he… auditioned because his sister did?” Murphy asked sceptically.

Miller shrugged. “I guess so. He became her legal guardian at the beginning of the year, so I guess they’re close. Probably wants to look out for her.”

“Well, that’s just…”

“Honourable?”

“Overprotective?”

“Plain weird?”

Clarke pursed her lips together and set her shoulders, making her mind up.

“I don’t care what his reasons are,” she pushed herself up from the table. “We need him.”

Raven and the others could only look on with intrigue and hope as she picked up her lunch tray and set off determinedly in the direction of Bellamy Blake.

He was reading the same book, head bent down towards the table, one hand holding open the spin like he’d juggled lunch and reading a million times before, and the other picking at his food with a fork. He hadn’t been wearing the glasses on stage so she figured they were for reading, but they suited him well.

She invited herself into the seat on the bench opposite him without invitation, but as the table had previously been deserted apart from him, she knew that he was aware of her.

“Hi,” she opened with.

He flicked his eyes up to her once, held her gaze for a moment, then glanced back down to his book. “Clarke.”

She tilted her head in vague surprise. “You know my name.”

“I make a point of knowing who I give my phone number to,” he informed her reasonably.

She couldn’t argue with that.

She shuffled in her seat and leaned forwards to wrestle his attention away from his book.

“Look, Bellamy,” she began, “I know we don’t know each other, and I know you haven’t made up your mind yet, but I came over here to make you reconsider.”

He put his book down upside down and caught her eye. “Reconsider?”

“Joining Acapadia,” she clarified. His jaw ticked so she rushed on before he could give her a list of reasons why he wouldn’t. “It wouldn’t just be something on the side to get close to your sister, it would be something for you. Octavia’s gone to the Grounders, we wish she hadn’t but that was her decision to make. You, on the other hand… Bellamy, you could really make a difference to our chances this year. We could go to New York! New York.”

He remained quiet but licked his lips and started over her shoulder like he was seriously considering it.

“You’d see Octavia too,” Clarke continued. “The Grounders… look, don’t tell the others I said this but they’re better than us. Sometimes. We might get a chance to go to the ICCAs, but with Octavia, they definitely will. That’s a whole year of sharing the auditorium, travelling to sectionals, staying out of state with them for regionals. I’m not saying you have to follow her around, but you’d have your own friends who just coincidentally mix with hers.”

She knew she sounded a little desperate, but she needed Bellamy Blake.

Or rather, they needed him, she should say.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and glanced up at her. “You really think we could go to New York?” he asked hopefully.

“Really,” she smiled. “With you, anyway.”

“And… without me?” He asked carefully.

Clarke sighed. “To be honest, we just don’t have the range without you. We’ll be dead on our feet by sectionals.”

She saw the exact moment he made his mind up. He closed his book completely, still making sure to carefully bookmark his page, and leaned towards her across the table on his elbows.

“Ok,” He said. “I’m in—,“ her face split into a wide grin, “—but, I’m not doing this for Octavia.”

She looked at him carefully, equal parts lone wolf and intelligent, overprotective big brother. Her face was serious when she caught his eye, gently placed her hand over his on the table and said, “I know, you’re doing this for you.”

He smiled back shyly, then pulled back.

“So,” he said excitedly. “When do we start?”

Edit: Chapter 2 is now up, read it here.

[teasoundsgood]

(Artichoke) Hearts Chapter 1

banner by styleslegends

Read here or on 1DFF

You UV Blue me away

***

If I had to pinpoint the root of all my problems it would be the YogaWorks Brentwood prenatal yoga class of 1994.

Now, in their defense, Janet Cleveland, Laura Adams, and Heather Franklin (now Heather Baranoski) had no clue the havoc their actions would reek on my life at the time. They were all just hormonal pregnant woman who wanted to tree pose and breathe and whatever else you do in prenatal yoga class. But after meeting in class and bonding over vomiting on yoga mats and the whole having unborn children in their wombs thing, these four mothers became the best of friends and simultaneously caused all of my problems for the past 21 years and probably for the rest of my life.

John Quincy Adams was born at 7:41PM October 31, 1994

Grover Cleveland was born at 3:15AM November 2, 1994

And finally Franklin Delano Roosevelt was born at 10:52PM November 4, 1994 followed 9 minutes later by his twin sister Teddy Roosevelt. Me.

Why, you ask, did 3 severely pregnant women decide that naming all of their children after dead US presidents was a good idea? Well, that you’ll have to ask them because I have no clue. All I do know is that being the youngest—no matter if its only weeks, days, or mere minutes—of a group of boys who don’t understand that just because you’re all named after some dead guys doesn’t mean you have to be together all the time was a recipe for disaster.

And I’m a cook so I should know.

Not a professional cook though. College took up way too much time for that, but I did have a food blog that was doing pretty well. (Artichoke) Hearts was organized by season (fall, spring, summer, winter, and holidays), meal time (breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks), and type (meat, vegetarian, vegan—my mom wanted me to add a kosher section, but that would mean I would have to actually cook kosher). It wasn’t hugely popular—like say, I don’t know, an up-and-coming currently touring band with two #1 singles on iTunes—but BuzzFeed Food used a good number of my recipes and I had a solid following of moms who appreciated my organization, food photography skills, and my clever analogies in my pre-recipe articles.

Oh, the recipes were pretty good too.

Not that anyone in my family would know. They were all terrible besides Isabelle, but I’m not at all related to her so she didn’t count. Holly was getting pretty good at being my kitchen assistant, but she was eight and technically only related to Isabelle (and a sperm donor with an IQ of 167 and no family history of medical problems). But my father, brother, and mother were still learning how to boil pasta. How I was born into a family of non-cooks I would never know, but it was probably the reason I was so good at cooking.

At seven I was tired of take-out, frozen food, and PB&Js so I learned to make eggs and pasta.

At ten I was making snacks for my brother and the boys after school.

At twelve I was making dinner every night (except for Wednesdays and Saturdays when my brother and I stayed with mom and Isabelle), even though my dad insisted I didn’t have to.

At sixteen I catered the Dead Presidents’ Society Sixteenth Birthday Bash (JQ still says it was his birthday party because we threw it on Halloween and I’ve stopped arguing with him at this point).

And at eighteen (on February 9th at 10:08PM), under the influence of a little too much wine and the encouragement of Pia and Astrid—who were under the influence of a little too much wine and my fried mac-n-cheese balls—I started my blog.

It took awhile, but with consistent posting, a pretty and easily navigated layout, and solid recipes, soon enough (Artichoke) Hearts had become one of the most successful food blogs out there.

Which, as the youngest member of the Dead Presidents’ Society—and the only one who doesn’t play an instrument—gave me just a bit of leverage over those absolute eggheads.

“C’mon Ted, I’m starving,” FDR complained, the WiFi connection a little slow so his voice came through before his pout did.

“We’re starving,” I heard Grover call somewhere off screen.

“We’re starving,” FDR repeated. “C’mon sis, you can’t let us starve to death. You’d be the only Dead President remaining. You’d have to take over all of our jobs to keep the society alive.”

“You can’t play any instruments, it would be very difficult,” Grover added as he sat down on the couch next to my brother, both of them with well-practiced pouts on their faces. But I’d been a main recipient of those pouts from all three of them for the past 21 years so I was completely desensitized.

“I highly doubt that me catering your welcome home pre-show party in three weeks will help with your current starvation problem,” I told them.

“The human body can survive three weeks without food,” Grover pointed out.

“You make an excellent point. But you can still get literally anyone else to do it.” I hummed with a self-satisfied smile on my face. “Oh don’t give me that…” I scolded as the pouts deepened. “Based on Quinn’s most recent report, you boys haven’t done anything that would warrant me cooking for hours for you and your friends.”

Quinn was the Dead Presidents’ Society’s manager extraordinaire and, even though I wasn’t a member of the band, I was her favorite. It might’ve been because I was the first one she met or because I was the one who convinced the boys to pick her over the three other companies who wanted them, but it was probably because I was her secret weapon to get the boys to do whatever she wanted them to.

Or, more specifically, my food was.

“But you love cooking,” FDR whined.

“I cook for people not pigs,” I stated, getting confused frowns in response. I rolled my eyes and blew out a puff of air before continuing. “Your tour bus stinks, you haven’t done laundry for the past month and a half, and you haven’t been eating any of your vegetables,” I listed, recalling my chat with Quinn yesterday when she called to enlist my help in keeping the boys of The Dead Presidents’ Society alive.

“Not true,” FDR argued. “JQ and I had mashed potatoes with dinner last night.”

“Potatoes are nutritionally a starch not a vegetable,” I corrected him.

“Well…um…you’re a starch not a vegetable,” FDR said. It seemed that his time on the road really hadn’t taught him any new comebacks from when we were seven.

“Good one,” I deadpanned.

“How can I be clever when I’m starving to death?”

“If you’re really that desperate for food then go eat some carrots,” I told them both sternly. I might be the youngest of the group (and constantly reminded of it), but I’m really the only responsible one. “And an apple or two.”

“You’re no fun,” FDR pouted.

“Well how can I be when I have to take care of the three of you from LA?” I asked. “Speaking of, where’s the other one?”

I didn’t even know why I still asked about JQ on these Skype calls, it’s not like he’s been present for any of them. But I wasn’t able to completely stop caring about someone I’d known my entire life (unlike him), so I still had to ask.

“JQ’s working on a song down the hall—”

“No, Q was flirting with that bartender,” FDR corrected and I wasn’t surprised at all.

“Yeah, but you went to pee and he left her to go work on a song,” Grover told FDR then turned back to me. “He’s written like five just this week for the next album. I think we’re going to test a couple out at the welcome home show.”

“Another reason you should cater it,” FDR added.

“Not going to work,” I sang.

“You’re the wor—”

“Hey, can we meet early to work on a few new songs?” I knew it was JQ’s voice from the first word.

He might not’ve spoken to me in months, but I’d watched all of their interviews and listened to every song the band had released since last fall. Not to mention I’d heard his voice almost every day of my life growing up.

“Yeah we just have to finish up with Ted,” FDR replied. “Say hi to JQ, Teddy!”

“Hi to JQ, Teddy,” I mocked because actually saying hi to him like a normal adult was too much to ask.

“Hey Teddy,” he replied, but the camera was still facing FDR and Grover so I had no clue what JQ was doing. “I’m going to go tune my guitar.”

I guess he was leaving.

“I should tune mine too,” Grover added after the door clicked shut behind JQ and pushed himself up off the couch. He grinned broadly and waved at the camera. “Bye Teddy.”

“Bye Grover.” I waved back and watched as he disappeared off my screen.

I guess he was going too.

“I should get going anyway,” I said after I heard the door click shut on the other side. “Pia just got back and roped us all into helping her move in.”

“All six of you?” FDR asked.

“Rose isn’t back yet, but yeah pretty much. Pia’s got a lot of stuff you need more than one person to carry. Plus she bribed us with free Indian food.”

“How much do you want to bet the Kapoors just didn’t want to help Pia move in and the food was their idea?” FDR smirked.

“Oh one hundred percent,” I agreed and smiled at my brother. “Ajinder and Rajpreet Kapoor would never give out free food unless they got something out of it.”

“You on the other hand…” FDR trailed off and suddenly the pout was back.

“Look, if you all clean up your act for the last few weeks of tour and stop making Quinn think she’s wrangling pigs not managing a band, then yes,” I gave in and FDR’s pout was immediately replaced by a shit-eating grin. “But final word comes from Quinn!”

“Thanks Teds, we won’t let you down!”

“You better not, mister,” I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Talk to you later,” He replied. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

FDR hung up with a final cheesy grin and wave, leaving me alone for approximately 30 seconds until the familiar sound of a door opening and two collars jingling signaled two dogs and a dad (mine, to be specific) had come back from their walk.

“You just missed FDR,” I told my dad as he rounded the corner and knelt down to let the dogs off their leashes. Fairbanks was a perfect gentleman (obviously) and patiently let Dad take off his leash before trotting over and sitting in front of the couch, next to my feet. Cactus Jack was too busy swinging around a large stick he found because, even though my brother hadn’t been here for months, his dog still behaved exactly like him.

“Eh, I talked to him yesterday,” my dad shrugged after he finally got Jack’s collar off.

“Glad to know you really care about your only son,” I snorted and Fairbanks thought it was a weird sneeze so he jumped up on my lap and put his nose in my face to investigate. Despite how much I loved him, I didn’t really want to french kiss my dog so I pushed him back down pretty quickly.

“John Nance Garner pooped four times today so I’d much rather spend the night with my lovely daughter and her even lovelier dog who only pooped once,” he said as he sat down on the other side of the couch. I could tell dad and CJ weren’t on speaking terms by my dad’s use of his full name. When Dad used his kids’ (or his kids’ dogs’) full names, you knew he was annoyed.

As if to prove a point, Cactus Jack jumped up on my dad’s lap and proceeded to chew his stick from his new perch.

“While I’m honored I’m the favorite, I’ll need to take a raincheck on daddy-daughter time tonight. Pia is moving her stuff into her and Astrid’s apartment today so we’re all going over to help.”

“She promised you all food, didn’t she?” he asked.

“Free food. From Tandor,” I answered.

“Well I can’t argue with that. I’d ditch you for the night if the Kapoors bribed me with food,” Dad stood up—causing Cactus Jack to flop to the floor, but he was too busy with his stick to look upset for more than a few seconds—and kissed me on the top of the head from behind the couch. “Have fun with everyone. Do you need me to watch the pups tonight?”

“I mean, I can bring them with me if you want, but it would probably be easier. I think I might sleep over at Pia’s tonight.”

“You planning a wild party?”

“I’m not, but I’d be surprised if Reese wasn’t,” I answered honestly.

“Well then make sure to take a shot for me and the dogs then,” he said. “But only one. I’d rather not hear about my daughter getting shwasted and running through campus.”

“Dad, I thought you knew me better than that. You’d never hear about it.”

***

“Astrid, you know you’re the one who actually lives here. You could, oh I don’t know, help,” Dom huffed after he and Cole put the couch down in Pia and Astrid’s new living room.

“I carried a box in before you got here,” Astrid said through a mouthful of Chana Masala.

“Well I’ve carried a couch, a table, and two boxes and I haven’t even gotten any food yet,” Dom threw back with his hands on his hips. His face was getting red and I was pretty sure it wasn’t because of carrying a couch in the L.A. heat.

“That’s not my fault,” Astrid shrugged and had another mouthful of food. Dominic’s face was getting redder and it definitely wasn’t because of the heat.

“Okay, why don’t we all take a break,” I interrupted the fight that was definitely about to happen and put down the box I’d carried up behind Cole and Dom.

“Reese is carrying up the last two chairs and there’s only two small boxes left that I can get later so let’s just call it a night,” Pia added in and put down her box next to the door before collapsing on the couch the boys just brought in. “Cole, bring me a tub of chicken korma, will you?”

“Yeah, want anything else?” Cole asked over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen where the Kapoors had put all of the food they brought us before quickly making their escape.

“Rice and naan would be appreciated. Did my parents bring samosas? If they did I’ll have one of those too,” Pia replied.

“Coming right up.”

We all (excluding Pia who was examining her nails because she decided it was a good idea to get a manicure the day before she moved in to her apartment) watched over the counter top separating the kitchen and the living room as Cole carefully loaded everything Pia asked for onto a plate and what he wanted as well.  As Cole came around the counter with two plates of food, Astrid and Dom made a whip sound at the same time, but—after the numerous times at least one of us has done this to Cole over the past few years—they barely earned a glance from him. Out of our group of seven, Cole is definitely the push-over, but when it comes to Pia that trait is definitely pushed to the extreme.

Cole put his and Pia’s food down on the coffee table Astrid brought when she moved in a couple days ago and I went to the kitchen to get my own food just as Reese came up with the last two chairs.

“Are we taking a break?” He asked and sat down in one of the chairs.

“Nope we’re done,”Astrid replied, not even looking up from her tub of food.

“Well it must be because of how much you helped, Astrid,” Reese commented sarcastically as he stood up again and made his way over to me in the kitchen. “What a team player.”

“Slow your roll, my little theater nerd,” Astrid looked up and squinted at him, following his path across the room with her fork. “Dom already tried to pull that shit and I can’t fit both of you up my ass.”

“Don’t have a lot of faith in yourself then, do you?” Reese joked.

“Hardy-har-har,” Astrid deadpanned. “I’ll have you know—”

“I don’t want to know this,” Cole piped in because he’s both the pushover and the sweet, innocent cherub of the group. He just wants to study rocks and pine over Pia from afar.

“I’ll have you know,” Astrid repeated without sparing Cole a glance. “I have it on good authority that I have an excellent ass—a direct quote from one Jason Graham: ‘that was the best anal I’ve ever had.’”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to know that either,” I commented and scrunched up my nose in disgust as I came back into the room with my food and joined Cole and Pia on the couch.

“Too bad neither of us like your genitals,” Dom said. “Right, Reese?”

“Correct, Dominic.”

“An ass is an ass is an ass is an ass,” Astrid said dramatically.

“You know, I love you Astrid, but I don’t actually want to hear about your ass while I’m eating dinner,” Cole said and Pia snorted in response.

“Only while you’re eating dinner?” She laughed. “Maybe you should live with her instead of me.”

“No, I’m fine with boys plus Rose,” he replied.

“Speaking of boys plus Rose,” Reese interrupted and glanced between Dom and Cole. “Rose gets back tomorrow and the semester starts the next day and her reign of fun-sucking will begin so we have to have a party tonight.’’

“I don’t think Rose would appreciate knowing you called her a fun-sucker,” I pointed out.

“Teddy,” Reese looked over at me with his hand to his chest. “You know I love our dearest, sweet Rose, but do you know how many parties we could’ve had last year if she didn’t have to study?”

“It’s true,” Dom piped in. “There were at least six parties that should’ve been.”

“At least,” Reese repeated for emphasis. “We have to have one to make up for all of the lost parties last year. We owe it to ourselves—”

“To the UCLA students,” Cole interrupted.

“Dare I say, the entire world,” Reese finished and I knew they had rehearsed this speech. Cole may be a geo major, but Reese was theater enough for the two of them.

“Stop being so dramatic, Reese,” Astrid rolled her eyes. “It’s just a party.”

“Just a party,” Reese gasped dramatically. “We bought a banner, Astrid. A banner.”

“It says ‘Happy Retirement’ on it,” Cole added.

“Okay that’s cute—dumb, but cute,” I said. “I’m in.”

“I don’t know why y’all are making such a big deal. It’s not like any of us wouldn’t go,” Pia said. “You literally could’ve just said we’re having a party tonight. None of us are going to argue with that.”

“Fine,” Reese huffed. “We’re having a party tonight and you’re all coming.”

“See? Simple.” Pia shrugged. “Now let’s finish this food quickly and get alcohol because I refuse to take room temperature shots.”

***

Pia and I were splitting a handle of UV Blue and I felt like we were back in freshman year—which was exactly what Reese had intended.

Reese had decided that, in honor of our last first party of the school year, we should all drink the alcohol that defined our freshman year. I thought it was adorable and reminiscent until Reese said mine was definitely UV Blue because I drank it the night that I sucked Reese’s freshman year roommate’s dick then vomited off of their 4th story balcony.

Then it wasn’t cute anymore.

But then I had six shots and we started talking about how that was when Reese and I became friends and how our whole group followed shortly after, which meant my dick sucking and vomiting story was a key moment in the making of our friend group. And then it was cute again.

“You know, I’m so glad we did this,” I said, mid-group hug in the middle of Rose’s empty room. Since she couldn’t be here tonight we decided it was only right to pregame in her room.

“You doubted me, Theodore Roosevelt, but I’m always right. Y’know, I should’ve been president instead of you,” Reese replied and I knew he was getting drunk because he was breaking out the dead president jokes.

“Reese, you would be a terrible president,” Dom said. “Actually, I’m pretty sure we’d all be terrible.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Reese stepped back from our group hug to go grab another shot.

“Maybe you should slow down, babe,” Astrid said as she took the shot glass from him. “You took one like two seconds ago, maybe wait like five minutes?”

“Yeah, Niall and two of his friends are coming and they should be here soon. You could take it when they get here as a welcome to our home shot,” Dom added in, looking up from his phone.

I’d met Niall a few times through Dom because they’re both film majors and he was nice enough. He was Irish and I could barely understand him sober, let alone drunk, but everything that I could understand was always nice.

“That sounds good. I’m such a good host,” Reese said mostly to himself.

Despite his insistence that he’d wait until Niall & Co. got here—because that’s what a good host would do and he was ‘practically a ninteen-fucking-fifties housewife level host,’ Astrid kept his shot glass because Reese had a habit of sneaking shots. Which is funny when we laugh about it the next day, but not funny when you have to leave the person you’ve had your eyes on the whole night and are finally hooking up with to rub Reese’s back while he pukes. It’s a little ridiculous the number of times that’s happened to one of us.

“Which roommates?” Cole asked.

“Liam and Harry, I think?” Dom replied. “He was going to bring some girl he was seeing, but I don’t think she could make it.”

“Good. I don’t want any competition,” Reese said.

“There’s no competition, Reese,” Astrid said. “Niall’s straight.”

“So is spaghetti until it gets wet,” Reese replied easily and wiggled his eyebrows because he’s dumb.

“Who’s Harry?” I asked to change the subject.

I definitely knew Liam—a little too well because Pia doesn’t understand what TMI means—but I didn’t think I’d ever heard of Harry before.

“He lived with Niall in the fall last year while you were abroad and then went abroad when you came back in the spring so you probably haven’t met him,” Dom explained. “He’s cool though, you’ll like him.”

“You don’t have to suck his dick and vomit off the balcony again though, we’re all already friends,” Reese said because he’s probably the biggest shit I know. “Also I don’t think our landlord would appreciate someone vomiting off the balcony.”

“Gee thanks for the advice,” I deadpanned. “I’ll try but there’s no promises.”

“That’s all I ask,” Reese shrugged with a smirk on his face.

“They’re downstairs, I’m going to buzz them in,” Dom said, looking up from his phone again.

“Astrid!” Reese called even though she was only a few feet away. “Make the welcome shots. I’ve got to be ready to serve my guests.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that, right?” Astrid asked.

“You’re just jealous that I’m a better host then you,” Reese replied.

“It’s not even my house, Reese,” she said. “I’m not the host.”

“You’re both dumb to me,” Pia said and sipped a glass of wine because apparently she’d given up on our bottle of UV and gotten wine at some point. But I was six shots in so those details were lost on me.

“Hey! What did I do? I’m your roommate, you’re supposed to be nice to me!” Astrid complained.

“And I’m your favorite, you should be even nicer to me,” Reese added in.

“Her favorite?” Astrid turned to look at Reese. “That’s such a lie—I’m her favorite over you.”

“This is why I think you’re both dumb,” Pia said. “And I’m blatantly my own favorite.”

“Honey, we’re ho-ome,” a familiar Irish voice called, announcing Niall & Co.’s arrival and putting an end to Astrid and Reese’s bickering—at least for a little while.

“My guests!” Reese exclaimed excitedly as they appeared in Rose’s doorway. “Come take a shot with me!”

“What do you have?” Liam asked.

“Not even going to say hi then, Liam? Really?” Pia asked.

“Sorry P,” Liam laughed and hugged her. “How’re you then?”

“Good,” she shrugged and pushed him away playfully. “That’s all I needed. Now go get your alcohol.”

As soon as Liam replied with a flirty laugh and some dumb response, I found myself tuning out. I absolutely love Pia, but listening to her flirt with anyone—which meant flirting with them and anyone else with a dick so they knew they’d have to work for it—didn’t interest me in the slightest. Especially knowing that I’d have to spend at least an hour in a post-hookup debriefing with Pia tomorrow and then another hour listening to Cole complain about Pia hooking up with someone while pretending it’s not just because he’s completely in love with her.      

“Hi,” an unfamiliar voice said and suddenly some boy I’d never seen before was standing in front of me. “I’m Harry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I don’t think we have. I’m Teddy,” I replied and shook his outstretched hand.

I took a second to look him over quickly without being too obvious—even though I probably was because there’s no discreet way to check someone out when they’re right in front of you. But he smirked and looked me over a second later so I assumed it was cool that I did it. And I’m glad I did because he was much more attractive than any of the guys I’d been around this summer. His jeans were a bit tight and would probably be a pain to take off—okay, slow down there, Teddy.

“We definitely haven’t met. I would’ve remembered you,” he said and the amount of vodka I’d had really hadn’t prepared me for this.

“Madame President,” Reese called. “Stop distracting my guests. I’m trying to welcome them into my home.”

“Madame President?” Harry quirked an eyebrow at me.

“It’s a long story,” I replied.

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to find you later so you can tell it to me,” Harry smirked and, even though I’d spent most of my time with my dad and dogs (and sub-par men, but they really aren’t important at this moment in time) this summer, I knew he was definitely flirting with me.

At least I’m pretty sure he was.

“I guess you will,” I smirked back in what could be a flirtatious manner, but could’ve also looked really fucking weird.

“Harry, stop flirting and come drink with me.”

So I guess he was flirting.

***

“Wait so you and your brother and two of your friends were all named after ex-presidents?” Harry asked and took the joint we’d been passing between the two of us for the last few minutes.

He’d found me in the kitchen stealing Reese’s Hot Cheetos from the cabinet about ten minutes ago and wasted no time reminding me that I still had a story to tell him. In the two hours since he’d gotten here, pretty much every other senior that I knew (and a lot of whom I didn’t know) had crammed into Rose and the boys’ apartment, making it a lot hotter and louder than before. Which prompted me to suggest we go outside. Which then prompted Harry to take the joint out of his pocket so we could smoke it while I told him my entire life story.

Or at least the interesting part—which revolved around being named after a dead president.

“Yep,” I nodded. “Pregnant women are weird and very hormonal.”

“I just don’t understand how three women, all with the same last names as ex-presidents, ended up in the same prenatal yoga class.”

“Divine intervention,” I deadpanned.

“You think?” Harry asked in awe and I wasn’t sure if he was an idiot or just high. “Like you were chosen or something?”

“What the fuck?” I laughed. “Chosen?”

“Wow, I’m definitely higher than I thought I was,” he giggled.

“I think I’ll have to agree with you there,” I nodded. “Pass me the joint.”

He held out the joint for me and I took it from him, our hands brushing as I grabbed it.

“Y’know,” he said, looking up from our hands to see me taking a drag. “If this was a RomCom that would’ve been a pretty big moment there.”

“What?” I laughed.

“We had an adorable bonding moment of you telling me the origin of your name. Then I said something dumb, but hopelessly endearing,” he lifted one side of his mouth when he said that and he probably thought he was being cute. He was right. “Which made us both laugh. And then our fingers brushed,” he explained.

“Well then,” I said and took a second drag because I didn’t know what else to do.

“But if this was a proper RomCom—I assume we’re going for genre accuracy, correct?”

“I’d be upset if we weren’t,” I confirmed.

“Then this would be the part where I take your hand,” he took my hand. “And—”

“Have either of you seen Pia?” Cole asked and leaned his body out the doorway, holding it with one hand.

“Not for awhile,” I frowned. “She’s probably around here somewhere. Have you checked Reese’s room? He always makes at least one of us shit talk with him at some point.”

“Yeah he’s got Astrid with him, but no Pia,” Cole said because he’d probably spent the last twenty minutes wandering around the party looking for her.

“She might be with Liam,” Harry interjected and looked at me. “I was with him when he was getting them both drinks when I saw you.”

“Cool,” Cole replied shortly and turned around to leave. I could tell he didn’t think it was cool at all, but he was the idiot who refused to tell her how he felt so I didn’t feel anything sympathy. “I’ll see if I can find them.”

“Oh wait,” Harry said, looking down at his phone, and Cole paused. “Liam texted me like 5 minutes ago. He left with Pia and just wanted Ni and I to know so we wouldn’t look for him.”

“Oh,” Cole said. “That was thoughtful of him. I’ll see you two later.”

Cole turned around and left, closing the door behind him.

“I should go check on him,” I said because even though I said I had no sympathy for Cole, I definitely did. Because I knew first hand how much finding out the person you like just left to hook up with someone else sucks. “He…um…he…”

“Likes Pia?” Harry finished for me. “It’s pretty obvious—does Pia know?”

“No, she’s pretty much the only one who doesn’t,” I said. “Which means moments like this aren’t too uncommon.”

“You’re a good friend,” Harry said. “And I admire that—even if it’s stealing you away from me.”

“You’re a shameless flirt, you know that right?” I commented because the alcohol and the weed (and the compliments) were making me a lot more confident.

“What’s the shame in flirting?” He threw back with a smile and I laughed before turning around to leave.

“Oh, Teddy?” He said and I turned around. He kept eye contact with me and took my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it. He pulled back and smiled in a way that momentarily made me rethink leaving to go talk to Cole. “Couldn’t let you leave without finishing our RomCom moment. What a cliffhanger that would be?”