#i just think i wouldn’t remember anyone from grade school the way that phoenix remembered him

[mitskiluvr]

soulmatism is phoenix only knowing miles for like 2 years in elementary school yet IMMEDIATELY knowing that something is horribly wrong when he sees miles in the newspaper years later being called a demon prosecutor

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Bella and Beauford (your version of Beau) are twins, similar features (brown eyes), similar chip on their shoulder, similar flowery language, and Ed can't read either of their minds and both smell like grade A beefcakes. Both move to Forks. What kind of mess do you think will go down? 030 Does Eddie boi get the harem he's never wanted? How much can we destroy the B&B team self esteem? Find out on today's episode of the What if Muffin chronicles~! - Sw

Beauford is a reoccurring guest star on this blog.

Think Bella directly plastered onto a boy: absurdly pretty, still clumsy, still terribly introverted and awful socially, and smells like heroin to one Edward Cullen.

With that, onto your question

The Rules

To set some ground rules that are set in the post, I'm presuming both, somehow, are Edward's singer. Now, given that it's Bella and Beauford (fraternal twins), I'd say this is highly unlikely. Singers are rare, and Charlie and Renee don't notably smell like high quality heroin to Edward. More likely, Bella would be the singer, and Beauford would just smell generally nice (but not murder all of Biology nice).

It's also unlikely they'd have the same exact gift, or a gift that expresses itself in the same manner, blocking Edward out of their minds.

But the rules are set, both are Edward's singer, and both have Bella's absurdly powerful gift.

They're for all intents and purposes the same fucking person that somehow got stuffed in two different gendered bodies. The real genesis of this AU: Renee was abducted by aliens while pregnant and her unborn child experimented on. Beauford is, in fact, Bella's identical twin. Beauford is actually Bella's male clone grown in the womb.

After Bella and Beauford reach sexual maturity they'll be beamed back up into space and put into a zoo on Traflamador. (Except not because that would derail this post... The test pilot on Traflamador blew up their planet before Bella and Beauford could phone home. It's not important.)

Bella, Beauford, and the Time Before Forks

Bella and Beauford are probably frightfully codependent for a few reasons that go by the name of Renee. Renee's still out to lunch parenting, and it falls to Bella and Beauford to take care of adult responsibilities from a very young age.

Bella and Beauford come home from school to an empty house, are the ones to go grocery shopping, pay the bills, pay the taxes, do the laundry, pretty much anything that has "adult responsibility" stamped on it.

As a result, they don't really have time to make friends with kids out of school, and they quickly realize that they're the only ones they can depend on in their lives. More, they're the only ones who get each other on any level.

They're both social outcasts, both not what their mother wanted, both have to deal with their mother, and if they ever get in trouble then it's their sibling that they're going to call. Because no one else will ever be there.

I imagine both Bella and Beauford cling to each other tightly with both hands.

Which, of course, makes things weird.

There's getting along with your twin sibling then there's... only getting along with your twin sibling.

Bella and Beauford have lunch together, by themselves, every day in Phoenix. They partner together on everything and are very displeased if they're forced into a group project with anyone else. They participate in all the same activities and if one isn't allowed to do it then the other quits (yes, Beauford tried to get into ballet class, when Renee put her foot down Bella quit right then and there). They wear each other's clothes, if they can't, then those clothes never get worn (Bella never wears the few dresses in her closet). They actually remember their made up secret twin language and lapse into it accidentally from time to time. They're anxious when they're not in the same classes and meet up after every single class to walk down the hallways together. Rather than have any friends, most of their free time is spent at home reading the same books in the same room. They don't even talk about how amazing Heathcliff is, because they know the other knows.

I imagine they channel such the twins from The Shining. Absurdly good looking, beautiful, kids but good god what is wrong with them?

The Decision to Move

When Phil enters the picture seriously, he's not just a new boyfriend, Bella and Beauford sit down to discuss their options. Neither is quite sure how they feel about Phil.

He's awfully young, but he seems to be good for Renee, and is actually capable of paying his taxes (unlike Renee). He can probably be depended upon not to run off and to make sure Renee is taken care of.

However what about Bella and Beau?

With Bella and Beau going to school, they can't travel across the country every few weeks following Phil. Now, in theory, Renee could abandon them to follow Phil. This wouldn't make much of a difference in their daily lives (might, in fact, make things easier in a way as then Beau/Bella can just handle all the cooking rather than Renee even attempting to). However, Renee would never want to admit she's been leaving her kids to their own devices for years, and would feel horribly guilty to leave them behind.

As it is, they've already told Renee she can go on and travel with Phil and she refused, stating she had to be there for her kids.

There's also that Phil keeps trying to bond with Beau especially. As if he thinks it will be easier to bond with the teenage stepson vs. the stepdaughter. That hasn't been going well, Beau would like to avoid that if at all possible.

On the other hand... Forks, wet, cold, and being the children of the police chief's runaway bride.

Ultimately, the pair come to the same decision Bella came to in canon. They want their mother to be happy, feel desperately like third wheels, and if making Renee happy necessitates going to Forks then to Forks they shall go.

At least they'll have each other, and in the end, that's all that really matters.

Arriving in Forks

Bella and Beau arrive in Forks and receive the same reception they would otherwise. But more so. Holy god, the high school population says, it's the Cullens 2.0.

Eerily pale, beautiful, siblings, who are both sensitive intellectuals (and are also weirdly incestuous acting). All the guys want to date Bella and all the girls want to date Beau (some vice versa but they're not admitting that in a public high school in 2005).

The guys (Mike, Tylor, Eric, etc.) aren't all that thrilled by Beau's presence, he's major competition and day one is attracting all the attention. However, they see him as a way to get an in with Bella, he can set them up on a date and put in a good word. If they become his best friend, they have an excuse to go to his house, where Bella will be.

The girls (even Lauren who was initially very pissed off about Bella's sudden popularity) are much the same. Bella's overrated, but good god, that beautiful brother of hers. If they become Bella's best friend, they can have sleep overs, and might be able to see Beau without a shirt on. No matter Bella's stuffy personality, that hot brother is worth it.

Lunch that first day, as a result, is even more awful than it was in canon. Bella and Beauford, while generally oblivious about themselves, are very observant when it becomes to the behavior of others regarding their sibling.

They have an emergency meeting in the truck after school and come to the same conclusion: Bella/Beau, this entire school of hicks wants in your pants. Dump them all.

Both Bella and Beauford end the day supremely annoyed but reconfirm their commitment to this Forks plan. Beau predicts than in six months they'll be losers again and they'll go back to having lunch by themselves.

But what about the Cullens?

Edward, The Cullens, and Biology

As in canon, both Beauford and Bella notice the entrance of the alien procession into the cafeteria and ask "what the fuck?"

Nobody's thrilled about answering, because no one wants to lose Bella/Beauford to the Cullens of all people (the girls sigh with relief as, at least for them, all the lady Cullens seem to be dating one of the other guys. Beau is safe. The possibility of Edward/Beau is one they dare not contemplate in those five seconds.)

Still, Jessica reluctantly gives the run down. These are the Cullens, they moved in two years ago, are absurdly wealthy, beautiful, and supposedly not actually related. They're all dating each other. No, seriously, they are. Except the hot ginger, Edward, but don't bother because he's an ass.

Both Bella and Beauford think Jessica doth protest too much about Edward and internally give the Cullens the same bisexual Bella ranking: Rosalie, Edward (after a bit of thought), and then the rest of them.

Edward, for his own part, notes that he can't seem to hear either's thoughts. Weird. He concludes that the pair are highly overrated and he can't believe the school's so agog over the pair of them. Stupid teenagers.

Then Biology happens.

The pair open the door and good god, Edward Cullen is a demon. Luckily for them, they have each other. There may be an open seat next to Edward Cullen but Bella and Beauford go "NOPE". You see, teacher, we always sit together. No, really, we ALWAYS sit together.

The teacher is weirded out but it's so weird he actually has nothing to say to that. There's only one immediately open seat anyway, and two new students, so they're clearly in trouble with seating arrangements anyway. So he says, "Um, sure, go sit with Angela I guess." Angela is now in an overcrowded table with both Bella and Beauford, her original partner gleefully goes to sit with hottie Edward (then is in dismay sitting with Edward because this guy looks terrifying today). The twins, throughout Biology, are staring down Edward Cullen.

Edward, of course, has smelled the scent of the gods and is going through his personal hell on earth. He devises his many schemes of how he's going to murder Biology before he can get to the pair of them (Angela, for the record, gets smashed into a wall for the honor of being in Edward's way). Then, he doesn't know which he'd start on, he can't tell which scent comes from which. He tells himself he'll toss a coin, heads the boy goes first, then tails the girl.

Still, thinking of Carlisle's sad, disapproving, face as Edward massacres a room filled with children allows Edward to hold on through Biology. He'll murder them after school. Then of course he's able to clear his head and flees to Alaska.

In the meantime, thanks to being hyperaware of their sibling, and now having someone to talk to and confirm their suspicions with: Edward Cullen is Ted Bundy. This guy is creepy, dangerous, and in that moment it looked as if he was going to kill one or both of them. Bella/Beauford would be alright, though disappointed, if they were murdered then left in a dumpster. But their sibling die and meet that same awful fate? Not ever allowed to happen.

Bella and Beau have the world's most tense drive home and tense night taking turns taking guard and sleeping in the same room. Every time one questions if they're, maybe, just maybe, a little paranoid about this, the other confirms that "NOPE, THAT DUDE WAS SCARY".

They can't tell Charlie, he wouldn't believe them and they have no evidence, but when Edward tries to climb through their window maybe one of them will get in a good hit with the baseball bat (they won't, they're both debilitatingly clumsy).

The next day, to their confusion and relief, Edward Cullen isn't at school. He's not there the day after that either, or the day after that...

Beau and Bella start to relax, if only a little bit.

Edward, Alaska, and the Prodigal Son Returns

Edward in Alaska calms down and goes through the same thought process he did in canon. He keeps picturing the twins' faces, his obsession beginning to blossom, and convinces himself that he can't let these unremarkable humans get in the way of his life and his family.

After a week of brooding, much to Carlisle's horror, Edward returns to Forks and goes straight back to school. Specifically, he wants to do damage control with the twins and see just how much they actually noticed.

This goes worse than in canon.

First, Edward has to approach their shared table with Angela like a loser. There, Bella and Beau clearly don't want to talk at him, at all, and both clearly vividly remember exactly what happened last Biology class.

Edward barely gets a word in before he has to go to his seat. When he notices Bella, Beau, and Angela get their lab done as quickly as him (thanks to Bella and Beau), he tries again.

Bella and Beau both ask to go to the bathroom. (Yes, teacher, at the same time. Don't question this.) They don't come back. Edward, after ten minutes, also goes to the bathroom. He finds the pair in their giant, red, truck in the parking lot, deep in conversation (trying to figure out what the fuck is up with Edward Cullen).

He approaches them again, being as charming as possible. This has the opposite effect. Directed towards only them, Beau/Bella would probably let this slide. Directed towards Beloved Sibling, their "DANGER, WILL ROBINSON" sirens are blaring in their head. Beau floors it, and the pair tear out of the parking lot as fast as the truck will take them, they're telling Charlie they're taking a sick day. What will they do next Biology class? FUCK IF THEY KNOW.

Edward, standing in the parking lot with his mouth open, feels very very embarrassed and ashamed. He is a man eating demon and these two are perfectly aware of it. The rest of the Cullens find him there not long after, they find this both sad and hilarious.

Bella and Beau Get Hit by a Van

Well, this would all be well and good. Edward tells himself that if the pair are so determined to avoid him then he'll just avoid them. Problem solved. More, the pair don't seem to be chatterboxes, there's no weird rumors spreading about Edward Cullen or his siblings. At least, no more than usual.

Instead, it seems that everyone's trying to ask the twins to the dance, and are very confused when the twins say that they're going with each other. Sibling policy. You see. (They don't see, nobody sees, this is weird.)

Then it happens. Bella nearly gets hit by a van, Edward saves her, with Beau as a full not-concussed witness. FUCK. Bella and Beau travel to the hospital, Edward driving along behind them, and then after Carlisle checks Bella out they have their awkward talk.

Bella wants to insist that Edward was clearly the one who saved her, with his strange superhuman strength, but thanks to twin telepathy (which either is actual telepathy or is just reading twin body language, who even knows) knows that Beau wants her to shut up. They say nothing, the truth isn't important.

Instead, Beau states that he was the one who pulled Bella out of the way, Bella's just confused. Edward stares at Beau like he's an alien. Beau just smiles, thanks Edward for his concern, then throws Edward out of the room.

Bella and Beau madly discuss that Edward's clearly not human. More, while he saved her life today and that was very noble of him, neither has truly forgotten how he was in that first day of Biology. More, did you see him now? He clearly wanted, desperately for Bella to not remember what happened. He crushed that van like a pretzel, what if they told him that they saw him? What would happen to them? Beau doesn't want to take chances, not even for the truth, and in retrospect Bella doesn't either. Now is not the time to look gifted horses in the mouth.

Given Bella's injured, Beau's on full guard duty that night.

Meanwhile, the Cullens have their vote. It's even more dramatic, because instead of just one innocent, injured, witness, there's two witnesses and one was completely uninjured. Carlisle is utterly appalled that Rosalie genuinely suggests murdering them both so she doesn't have to move. He's more appalled when Edward reveals that he believes the twins may believe that Edward... wishes them harm for having witnessed his heroics.

Because the irony being that the twins are right, the family is voting on this very issue right now. And what does that say about all of them?

Thankfully for Beau and Bella, the vote goes very similarly to canon. Jasper's not convinced until Alice has her vision.

And she drops the bomb. Edward's in love with Bella, Beau will be Edward's best friend and Bella Alice's, and both Bella and her brother will be turned and join the coven.

(Now, what Alice doesn't tell Edward is that, actually, Edward's in love with them both. It's safer to say that Edward's in love with the woman, as that's what Edward will far more readily accept. Throwing Beau into that mix would just make things very messy, if Alice wants her best friend and Edward's happy ending then she has to be smart about this.)

The family has a similar reaction. Carlisle gives his, "Well, alright then" and the family doesn't move. Edward, in despair and self-hatred, heads to the Swan house to see sleeping Bella for himself.

And lo and behold, Beau has been waiting for him. Beau tries to smash Edward's face in with a bat. Unfortunately, a) Edward's a vampire, b) Beau misses.

Beau and Edward end up talking, man to man, while Bella is sleeping. Edward decides that, yes, oh woe, he is in love with Beauford's sister and confesses as much (while also confessing that he might, you know, actually be dangerous). Beau suggests that Edward stay far away from his sister.

No, there's nothing Beau can do to stop Edward. Yes, he is just a pathetic human even more pathetic than most, but he promises that he will make Edward and his family's life hell on Earth if Edward ever thinks of assaulting his sister.

Edward protests he would never, Beau points out that Edward just climbed through his injured sister's window in the dead of night. Edward... tries and fails to explain away that one.

He actually does succeed in that he explains that Bella was in danger from... his siblings. Edward had come to protect Bella, to make sure none came to harm her. It's not necessarily his siblings' fault, it's complicated but... Well, Edward was trying to be somewhat noble.

Then something strange happens. Edward finds himself fascinated by this Beauford Swan. Such courage in the world's weakest, no most delicate, body. Look at those eyelashes, his big dark eyes, his perfectly shaped features. This boy is beautiful, as beautiful as his sister, and just as courageous as she is. And look at him now, nobly facing down a demon he knows he cannot win against for the sake of his sister.

How virtuous.

Edward tells himself that what he's feeling is kinship and admiration for Beauford Swan. Bella could not have a worthier brother. Edward leaves with the promise that he'll respect Beau's wishes (Beau doesn't believe that for a second).

The next morning, Beau tells Bella that Edward's the world's biggest creep and that the Twin Watch is not stopping anytime soon. They're going to need to make a big purchase of coffee.

Edward and His Torment

As in canon, Edward decides he should nobly stay out of Bella's life. He'll see if either twin really does talk (they don't) and then he'll ignore them until they disappear. They will forget him.

They don't, but they do discuss him. See, after much pondering, the twins realize that Edward truly is a Grade A hottie. More, he's so mysterious and inhuman. In retrospect, his saving Bella's life goes a long way, and for all that he's been... menacing, he's never truly threatened them and does seem intent on protecting Bella. More, he seems to be keeping his promise: he's staying out of Bella's life and he hasn't been back to the house since (he has, but they haven't caught him, Edward waits until they both crash until he can sneak in and stare at them both).

And he's never lied about being dangerous. Their glares soften into pondering glances, wondering just what the truth of this Edward Cullen and his family really is, and wonder what it'd be like to let him into their small, insular, world that no one before has ever managed to breach in the way he has.

Bella doesn't believe he's truly interested in her, despite Beau's insistence, and wonders if he's interested in Beau. Beau, for his own part, doesn't believe Edward's interested in him and insists that he's clearly very interested in Bella.

Reluctantly, the pair conclude that Edward is something likely very dangerous, against Edward's will, but benign. Whatever it was they sensed from Edward that first day, it was not something in his control.

Helping this is Edward enabling the mysterious mystery by breaking. He can't stay away from the twins. He tells them that he's tired of staying away from them, that they shouldn't be friends, that he doesn't want to be friends (but wants to be something hint, hint, wink, wink). Except he's convinced he and Beauford are friends, dual protectors of the angel Bella Swan. If he stares a little too much at Beau's perfect figure then that's because he's the perfect, male, version of his perfect sister.

Anyway, the twins go to Long Beach with the others and the twins are now just too curious. Edward's giving them nothing and they must know. Bella flirts with Jake for information, Beau is appalled that this works, and they hear the cold ones story. That night, they both have the prophetic Slayer dream: Edward is a vampire.

Bella tells Beauford that she knows three things. One is that she's in love with Edward. Beau's not sure how to take that for a second but, being Bella's twin and on the same weird wavelength, he gets it. He's in love with Edward too.

Neither finds it strange that they both confess to being in love with the same demon and that they see no conflict of interest in this.

The pair go to Port Angeles to help Jessica and Angela pick up dresses. (Angela and Jessica aren't sure why a man is coming, but they've learned not to question this twin thing). Bella and Beau ultimately decided not to go to the dance, too risky giving the deluge of invitations they received, and instead they'll be headed to Seattle that weekend. They claim this is not a date, Angela and Jessica just stare.

Due to Beau being with Bella, though the pair get hopelessly lost looking for the book store, Bella doesn't get followed by rapists. Edward shows up anyway, as Alice saw the possibility, and takes the pair of them to romantic Italian dinner. It's weird.

He then drives them home and Bella blurts it out. Edward's a vampire, she and Beau know. Edward has his miniature meltdown and realizes that these pair of siblings forgive him this. Beau, beautiful man that he is, is giving Edward his beloved sister and Bella is giving not only herself but her wonderful brother's hand in friendship.

Edward invites them both, that's right, them both, to the meadow. Neither thinks this is strange. And when they get there. Boom, it's over, any chance to question this is gone. Both Bella and Beau are seduced by Edward's sparkling chest and his quotes about lions.

He rests his head on Bella's chest but puts his right hand on Beau's. They sit like that. For hours.

The Cullens (Again)

Well, this went from weird to fucking weirder. It was weird enough when Edward became obsessed with this rando teenage girl. Now, it turns out that Edward's a horn dog panting after bisexual twins, clearly intending to romance them both at the same time.

Carlisle dearly tries to have an intervention. He sends Esme to do it, as in canon, this doesn't work (Esme is perfectly fine with Edward's twincest fetish and thinks it's wonderful).

Alice tells a dubious Jasper that Edward and Beau are just friends. Jasper doesn't believe her, but he's not sure what to even say.

Emmett is desperately holding in Edward sandwich jokes. Desperately.

When Beau and Bella are invited to the house (together of course), the entire family has no idea what to say to them. At all. They don't know how to process this. Rosalie is actually there this time, because somebody needs to warn these two about what Edward really wants, but then they're too weird.

It's all just too weird.

And... the rest of canon happens.

The baseball game occurs, James dies, Victoria's not sure which Swan she should target and so she targets them both anyway. They're in the same damn place so it makes 0 difference.

Bella and Beau joint hallucinate Hallucination Edward, somehow, and get even weirdly more codependent in their zombie fugue state. This tanks their popularity as now there's no denying the incest. Bella and Beau don't care.

Bella and Beau reach out to get Jake to build them the motorcycles. Jake doesn't necessarily want Beau around, the dude's weird and getting in the way of Bella time, but alright. Bella and Jake's friendship doesn't take off because Bella's codependent on Beau.

They do learn about the wolves though thanks to Jake's crush on Bella. Jake never realizes that he's coming in third place not only to Edward Cullen but to Beauford Swan. He thinks he has a chance. That poor boy.

Bella and Beau jump off the cliff together, convinced they weren't committing suicide.

Alice returns, gets Bella and Beau to go to Volterra, because Edward has to see that they're both alive. There's a joyful reunion, Aro is really weirded out by this whole damn thing and has a five second pause after touching Marcus' hand. "Well." he says afterwards, "You and your brother are close. I see."

They get to go home, Aro insists they turn. Eclipse happens. Edward proposes marriage to Bella. Neither Beau nor Bella are thrilled (mostly about the marriage and also about the question of how the twin enters this equation) but ultimately Bella accepts. Bella and Edward marry publicly.

Beau is invited for the honeymoon. Edward, Bella, nor Beau question this. Everyone else does. A lot. On Isle Esme, the three confirm their commitment to each other: they have a secret marriage. Edward and Beau are both convinced they're not in a relationship. Bella and Beau are convinced they're not incestuous.

Sex is had by... someone. Unclear who.

Bella gets pregnant, this seems to confirm Edward must be the father but... Bella and Beau are both very strange, almost alien, and very gifted. There is some red in their hair. Questions the Cullens dare not speak aloud are thought, Edward doesn't seem to notice.

TL;DR Basically, the books still happen but Edward is cuckolded and enables twincest.

...

I did not see this one coming guys. I swear. I did not.

[loosenedidylls]

Blessings, Curses, Autism

My earliest memories are of waiting rooms with musty carpets and buckets of donated, broken toys. I guess it was worse for my parents, who had nothing to stare at but walls and trashy lifestyle magazines. Eventually, the professionals decided I had a condition called Asperger’s Syndrome, and there was one thing they wanted me to understand:

“It’s a blessing, not a curse.”

If someone asked me to list blessings off the top of my head, I’d mention 20/20 vision, pitch-perfect hearing, or George Foreman’s chin — not a neurological disorder that transforms the most natural stages of personal development into a confusing struggle. In hindsight, I would have preferred more concrete advice than ‘it’s a blessing, not a curse.’ Something like:

“Watch out for the train!”

…But the quippy slogan is what stuck. My parents dispensed it like a cheap plaster, and I still don’t know whose benefit it was for — mine, or theirs. What I do know, is that I never once believed them: I felt I was being brushed aside, or told to accept something blatantly untrue. Besides, children don’t care to question whether they’re blessed or cursed, so it was an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. Existentialism is for adults trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Being an Autistic Child.

Autism is not a superpower. Thanks to certain pieces of popular media, you might think of autistic people as quirky-yet-brilliant detectives, awkward-yet-sexy hackers (always female), or nonverbal children with a deep, instinctive connection to whatever animal or alien the protagonists are trying to communicate with. Often, people with severe autism are plot devices in the same vein as a forbidden orb or set of nuclear launch codes. Instead of damsels waiting for Bruce Willis to save them, they’re objects waiting for Bruce Willis to understand them.

A lot of autistic people are brilliant academically, though not for the reasons you might think. A common feature of autism is hyper-fixating on ‘special interests’, obsessing over a subject until one has learned everything about it, before moving on to the next. Very few people become maths geniuses this way; more often they become diehard Sonic fans or start giving lots of money to Games Workshop. Here are a few of the phases I went through:

-          Thomas the Tank Engine.

-          Pokémon.

-          Old English monster myths.

-          Naruto.

-          Peter Jackson’s King Kong (both the movie and the video game).

-          Bleach (the anime, thankfully, not the cleaning product).

Fairly normal interests for a young person, right? Now remember the hyper-fixation part. People with Asperger’s tend to focus on certain interests at the expense of others, and those ‘rejected interests’ are usually vital for social development. Now remember that high school is a psychopathic hellscape crawling with cruel little monsters ready to vent their newfound territorial instincts on anyone who doesn’t fit in. The kid who wants to discuss the depiction of brontosauruses in a sort-of-okay remake of a 1933 movie isn’t doing himself any favours — constant bullying drives him even deeper into reclusive interests and solitary hobbies, and from there, it’s the luck of the draw whether those hobbies resonate with any of the kids around him.

I’ve always known a lot about things no one knows about, and nothing about things everyone knows about. This, along with the fact that a lack of social life makes it easy to focus on one’s studies, creates the illusion that some autistic kids are eccentric geniuses-in-the-making. Parents — especially the parents of autistic children — are quick to latch onto any display of intelligence. They watch intently for any sign their long struggle is paying off, and when it happens, they praise their child endlessly, reinforcing behaviour patterns both good and bad. Because adults told me I was intelligent, I told other children I was intelligent, and you can imagine how well that went.

This misapprehension — confusing a bunch of random trivia for genius — followed me into high school, hurting me all the while, which is ironic, because it was the only positive way I could think about myself.

I’m lucky to have found books and writing as lifelong passions, but that almost didn’t happen; in fact, I used to despise any writing task the teacher set for me, to the point of outright refusing to do the work. In my defence, I was trying very hard to be somewhere else at the time — mentally, that is. The idea of putting my feelings on paper, for all to see? I couldn’t conceive of anything more terrifying.

Harry Potter changed things. I was gifted The Deathly Hallows when it was first published, and even though I had no idea what was going on in the story (I hadn’t even seen The Order of the Phoenix yet), I thought it was wonderful — maybe because I was getting a sneak peek into a future movie. Since then, I’ve always had a book close at hand, and it wasn’t long before I started writing my own novels (more on those another time).

 Voracious reading was, technically, another un-social activity that would consume my waking hours, but at least it was productive. My grades improved dramatically. I got good at writing essays. I became better at expressing myself, and I started to consider other people’s points of view. I made friends, lifelong bonds. I wouldn’t say I was happy at that stage of life — bullies tend to push back against things like improved mental health — but at least I was growing.

Looking back, I can’t help but wonder how close I came to disaster. I was 13 or so. If I’d left it any later, I doubt the outcome would have been so peachy. There are plenty of autistic adults with no friends, no employable skills, no human contact but ageing parents and rare, fleeting therapy sessions. Many of these people are quirky and brilliant, but there’s no happy ending for them.

Being an Autistic Adult.

Autism never goes away. It never gets ‘better’. It isn’t curable because it’s not a disease, despite what the vaccine deniers might tell you; autism is an intrinsic part of my neurological makeup, and living with it is a process of compromises.

I had to accept, early on, that I’m not the same sort of human being as the people around me. My brain is a different brand of brain: it makes different connections, processes different bits of data at different speeds. Things that seem obvious to you, need to be explained to me. I struggle to read a room, and I’m never quite sure if the person I’m talking to would really rather I shut up.

Put simply, my childhood experiences made me keenly aware of myself as an outsider. I need to watch for people’s reactions to anything I say or do, all the while navigating a maze of social cues and left-unsaids — but sooner or later, I’m always going to slip up. When you are differently-brained, it’s easy to misinterpret instructions, or to misjudge which thread of discussion is most important; and when you’re processing so much data at any one time, small-yet-vital points are going to slip under the radar. The result is being told off, being laughed at (‘laughing with you, not at you’ is another fun slogan I’ve learned to endure), and generally feeling stupid or useless for overlooking one point of data among hundreds.

 As I grew into an adult, I got better at performing normal. Nowadays, only those who spend a lot of time around me can spot the signs of my condition: I seem confident, funny, sympathetic, and I make friends easily. As I write this, I can’t help but feel uneasy: it makes me wonder, and not for the first time, how much of my personality is genuine. In high-stress situations, the generic piece of advice is ‘relax and be yourself.’ Succeeding in life as an autistic person means learning not to be yourself, or at least creating a version of yourself that can exist in public — so, where does the real me end, and the performance begin? Are they one and the same? I’ll never know the answer to that question.

Being an autistic adult, then, means pretending I’m not autistic for the benefit of other people. It’s a lifelong, often exhausting performance, and the temptation to retreat into my shell is ever present. But, just like anyone else, I long for human contact, so the compromise is a necessary one.

Blessings & Curses: Redux.

Terry Pratchett wrote that humans need to learn to believe the little lies so they can believe in big ones. There’s something I wish I knew during the bad years; that I was far from the only person suffering from my condition. My parents were stumbling in the dark just like me, except they had to pretend everything was under control.

My dad confided in me, recently, how he used to cry — a lot — during those days when I would return from school after another worst day of my life, talking about footballs thrown at my head, being cornered and verbally abused, or being removed from class after another tantrum. These were practically daily occurrences, and they’ve left their lifelong marks on me, but I’ve never lacked for brilliant people willing to help, people who were alongside me in my suffering. Raising a child is hard, and raising a neurodivergent child is even harder. Can I blame my parents for wanting to believe in blessings, and not curses?

Most of the time, those bad years seem like a distant memory. I don’t see autism as my blessing or my curse; it’s just a part of me — a frustrating, limiting, often embarrassing part of me, but one just as vital as my eye colour or ethnicity. I’ve come to accept it and be content despite it, and I suppose that’s the best outcome I could hope for.

[rivalsforlife]

one more ahaha but the cherry blossom scene at the end of catch up game ch 3 because i'm still thinking nonstop about it all the time 👀👉👈

ABSOLUTELY I CAN also for anyone reading this go look at Mika’s art which inspired this scene. It’s the tumblr version so you can reblog it too, which you should do, even if you don’t read my long rambling,

okay once again rambling below...

Traditionally, Larry Butz arrived at any social gathering anywhere from half an hour to three hours later than the time he was told, so all things considered, he was actually early. Phoenix wasted no time informing him of the latest betrayal among their small elementary school friend group.

this is a direct callout to one of my friends from high school, where we started seriously considering telling her that any social event we were planning started an hour earlier than it actually did so that she’d make it there on time. We never did in case this turned out to be the time she actually made it on time, but still.

“Larry, remember that one time we were trying to make that gigantic hopscotch game, and we ran out of chalk?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Edgeworth, who sighed. “It turns out, Edgeworth hid it all along!”

Larry blinked, then shrugged. “Oh yeah, right, that. Well, I kind of had an idea…”

“Wh — You hid this from me too?! D-Death! The death penalty for the both of you!”

“Why does this all sound so familiar,” Edgeworth commented under his breath.

I think this part is mostly there so Larry actually does something because I couldn’t find any real way to fit him into this fic...? Anyways the dialogue there with Phoenix threatening the death penalty on Miles and Larry is pretty much directly lifted from the end of Turnabout Goodbyes, which is why Miles comments on it sounding familiar. 

They continued on in that vein for some time, dredging up old elementary school memories. Phoenix proclaimed to be the only innocent member of that group, before Edgeworth brought up a set of very nice gel pens Phoenix reportedly stole from him. Phoenix and Edgeworth got caught up in their argument, and barely even noticed when Larry wandered away, joining Maggey and Gumshoe at the fishing pond while Franziska critiqued them.

This sort of familiar banter was normal. As Edgeworth teased in that same way he had ever since Phoenix first faced him in court, he had to wonder if he’d just imagined the way Edgeworth had been looking at him during the party. Maybe everything was fine, after all.

Not pictured: Phoenix and Miles leaning in closer to each other as they argue. too close. Larry tries to comment but neither of them hear him. Eventually he just walks away because he’s sick of third-wheeling with these two. It’s my firm belief that if there weren’t the court benches in the way that they need to slam, these two would slowly walk closer and closer to each other as they argue because they. uh. want to “intimidate” each other. that’s why they’re nose to nose like that. the whole courtroom is suddenly very uncomfortable.

Haha anyways also I think these two would pick the dumbest things to argue about all the time? Never seriously arguing, the just like bickering because they don’t know how to hold conversations about their feelings.

“You still haven’t explained exactly what happened to my gel pen set,” Edgeworth accused, as they circled around the argument for the third time.

Phoenix threw his hands up in the air. “I just forgot to return it! I didn’t know you were so bothered by it. You should have brought it up!”

“Back then? You were so sensitive. If I brought up that you might have upset me in the least, you would have burst into tears.”

“I wasn’t that sensitive.”

Edgeworth sighed. “Wright, you cried when I got a question wrong on a spelling test, because you thought I would be sad about it.”

“And you were!” Phoenix retorted. “You cried for like an hour!”

“Because when you started crying, I thought it was something I had to be ashamed of!”

More bickering, pretty much! Also I do think Phoenix cried A Lot and was super sensitive up until the whole Dahlia trial which traumatized him pretty badly... 

Anyways the REAL story behind this incident which I am making up just now is probably that Miles was on the verge of crying because of Getting Something Wrong -- which I totally get, I absolutely almost cried over spelling tests as a baby -- and Phoenix picked up on this and realized his best friend was sad and started crying, which made Miles start to fully cry, and it just became a mess.

Meanwhile Larry with the 3/10 on his spelling test was just like “I don’t get what you guys are so upset about a 9/10 is great” which just makes them cry even more.

(Then Gregory probably found out about this incident and sat Miles down and gave him a speech about “everyone makes mistakes and it’s okay to not be perfect all the time, this is a learning opportunity and it shows you what you need to work on!”

:)

That sentiment didn’t last very long.)

Wow I’m getting off topic, moving on --

Phoenix crossed his arms. “I remember this whole thing very differently than you do. You cried first.”

“I never cried in fourth grade.”

Phoenix leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Origami.”

“Do not bring that up!” Edgeworth hissed as Phoenix reared back, laughing.

I don’t know if you need to lean in super close and whisper that in his ear though Phoenix, that might be a bit unnecessary. Miles got lucky here in that his Eternal Shame over not being able to fold an origami crane in fourth grade overrode whatever reaction he undoubtedly would have had about Phoenix’s face being very close to his face.

Anyways this banter is here in the fic mostly because I really wanted to show them being all comfortable and happy with each other. That was a major thing I wanted to push as much as possible in these earlier chapters, that they do care about each other a lot even before we enter the more outright romantic territory.

“Regardless, I am certain you took my gel pen set, so don’t try to blame faulty memory on that one. I bet you carelessly used them all up, didn’t you?”

“Hardly! I wouldn’t even touch it after you left. It reminded me of you.”

Some of the fight left Edgeworth’s stance. “Really?”

“Well… yeah.” He wasn’t sure why the admission suddenly felt like a confession of an entirely different sort.

aw man Phoenix you brought feelings into your banter NOW what are you going to do.

I’m preeetty sure I have books that I lent to my friends in fourth grade that they never gave back so it’s of course not an inherently romantic thing, they probably just forgot it was mine and obviously aren’t going to bring it back now ten years later, but for Phoenix in this case it was probably more like “I borrowed these gel pens from Miles and then keep forgetting to give them back but was going to after winter break, and then he left, so I need to hold onto them until he comes back”. Miles was taken from his life so suddenly it probably had a huge effect on him, especially since he had few friends at the time and Miles made such a big impact on him.

The two of them sat underneath the tree in a sudden, serene quiet. They’d both discarded their suit jackets at some point, down to their dress shirts and waistcoats. Phoenix pretended not to notice the way Edgeworth’s eyes darted across the line of his shoulders and lingered longer than they should have.

I don’t ever really pay much attention to what people are wearing or what they look like at any particular time when I’m writing, but in this case I took extra care to make sure they were in the same outfits as in the art that inspired this!

Maybe I’ll ramble a bit more about that! Pretty much the “theme” of narumitsu week this year was “cherry blossoms”, so I wanted to find some way to incorporate them into this fic somewhere somehow. I decided to have that as a focus on Free Day because I enjoy having structure and wasn’t sure what to have for the day.

Some of this scene, mainly the picnic, is inspired by that one official art here. The first iteration of this chapter had everyone in it (with the obvious exceptions of Diego and Mia) but then I took out Maya and Pearl for reasons I explained when I was talking about the scene in chapter 6 where I decided to cut a lot of Maya’s scenes out of this fic... even though I love her a lot.

And of course when I thought about cherry blossoms and narumitsu I thought about Mika’s art, yes I am linking it again, which I believe she posted about a month or so before I started planning and I was Thinking About It Constantly. It’s gorgeous and since there was the perfect opportunity to use it here I just couldn’t resist and here we are.

Back to the paragraph: Miles attempted to subtly check Phoenix out. It was not subtle.

“Do you still have those gel pens?” Edgeworth asked, softer. “I think you owe me them, after everything.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Phoenix, but it was difficult to have a heated argument right now, for some unknown reason. “If I still have them, they’re in a box somewhere. Plus, they ought to have dried up by now.”

“I doubt it.” A faint smile was beginning to crawl on Edgeworth’s face. “Those gel pens were state of the art.”

“Sure they were,” Phoenix dismissed. “And, what, you’re going to use them? Sign your fancy prosecutor documents in bright pink?”

“What makes you think I don’t do that already?”

“You wouldn’t — oh, wait, of course you’d have customized ink in the same colour as your entire wardrobe, who am I even talking to…”

“Mhm.” Edgeworth brushed his bangs from his eyes, a motion that Phoenix’s brain decided to fixate on for some reason. “But really, you went to all the trouble of keeping the set, and you never used any of them?”

(Miles voice) “oh so you kept something as trivial as that for so long because they reminded you of me? Tell me more. Why do you want a reminder of me. What exactly do you think of me, Wright,”

hm pretty much as soon as Phoenix brought Feelings into this conversation the atmosphere kind of changed and you can now imagine Miles staring with the most adoring expression at Phoenix while Phoenix is ignoring this with such intensity that it doesn’t even show up in his narration. But he also watches the way Miles brushes his bangs from his eyes, so he’s not much better.

And thinking about it now this scene really went on for too long about gel pens hahaha... 

“Objection!” Phoenix declared. “I used the blue one to write you letters at first.”

“Ah, of course you did. I never got any of those… How many did you send?”

“I don’t even want to know…”

Edgeworth hummed and looked off into the distance, where Gumshoe was demonstrating how to cast a line. “Your level of dedication is something else,” he said, as if to himself.

“Well, yeah. You were my only non-Larry friend. You were…” Phoenix swallowed. “You were important to me, you know? You saved me.”

“You keep bringing that up. You’ve more than returned the favor, you know that, don’t you?”

“I’m inclined to disagree.”

I don’t have a consistent headcanon about whether Miles got or read the letters, in this fic presumably von Karma intercepted them and got rid of them... and then presumably Miles ignored any that were sent to him as an adult.

Also these two are going to have ridiculous arguments about who saved who until they’re on their deathbeds, I’m sure.

Edgeworth turned back towards him as if to retort, but stopped halfway, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at Phoenix.

“... Something on my face?” Phoenix asked, trying to quell the feeling of some sort of anxiety that bubbled up when Edgeworth stared at him like that.

insert mikacherryblossomart.png

Miles turns away for one second and then suddenly oh no he’s even more gorgeous now

Edgeworth was silent for some time. Then, very softly, he said, “You have cherry blossom petals in your hair.”

“What? Do I?” He reached a hand up to brush them out, but Edgeworth stopped him by grabbing his wrist, freezing Phoenix.

“With your hair, you’ll never get them out like that.” With his spare hand, Edgeworth began to pick each individual petal from his hair. “You look so — silly, Wright.”

Partially a callback to the beginning of chapter 3, when they were kids:

“Y-Your hair,” Miles managed to say through stifled laughter. “One of the flowers fell into it.”

Phoenix hands shot up into his hair. “Really?”

“You look so silly, Phoenix.” When Phoenix failed to find the flower, Miles reached out. “Here, let me.” 

 Phoenix remained still as Miles reached up to the top of his head and picked the flower out of his hair. “Your hair’s really soft,” Miles said quietly, before handing it over to Phoenix. “Here you go.”

because Miles apparently remembered that it was difficult for Phoenix to get the petals from his hair the first time, and also, wanted an excuse to touch Phoenix’s hair again.

But also the dialogue and interactions are ONCE AGAIN INSPIRED BY MIKA based on this reply to my reply to the art on twitter. look at that you can go and retweet the art on twitter too!

Overall this gives us an accurate Thoughts to Speech translator for Miles:

Miles: You have cherry blossom petals in your hair and it is going to kill me.

Phoenix: What? Do I?

Miles: No, wait, don’t brush them out, I want to touch your hair because it is soft and this is the perfect excuse. You look so captivating.

if Miles had said that out loud though it would probably have killed both of them.

Phoenix let out an awkward, low laugh, starting somewhere deep within his chest. “R-Really.”

“Mhm.”

Edgeworth’s eyes locked with Phoenix’s, and time seemed to freeze. There was a sudden thrum of tension in the air, as if Phoenix were in a play and he’d suddenly forgotten his lines, forgotten he was supposed to be in a play at all.

(chanting) “kiss kiss kiSS KISS KISS --”

But before either of them could break the sudden spell over them, a fishing hook whirred through the air, and —

“Ack, I — I think I got it stuck!”

but of course that needs to be interrupted at the worst possible time because this is fanfiction and this is how things work!

“In the tree?! How did you even manage to get it that far?”

“Don’t worry about it, Maggey, I can climb up the tree and get it unstuck, just hang on —”

“No, no, if I just give it a big yank—”

“Maggey—!”

I broke the first rule of writing dialogue because I can’t really remember who’s supposed to be saying what. I think that Maya had a few lines here and then I didn’t change them since there were no dialogue tags...

Pretty much -- Maggey with her eternal luck tried to fish but released the line too early as she was swinging back so the line went back and got caught in the tree branches directly above Phoenix and Miles.

I think the dialogue progression goes Maggey -> Originally Maya but now either Larry or Franziska -> Gumshoe -> Maggey -> everyone going MAGGEY NO!!!

I remember going fishing with my grandpa once a long time ago and either I or my brother did get the fishing line stuck in a tree. would not recommend.

The branch above Phoenix and Edgeworth jostled, and pink petals burst all around them, fluttering down and catching in their hair and on their clothes. One petal even fell behind Edgeworth’s glasses.

They stared at each other for a moment, stunned, Edgeworth’s hand still loosely wrapped around Phoenix’s wrist, as Maggey shouted apologies from the distance.

There are no cherry blossom trees where I live so I have no idea if we’re even in the right season for this or if cherry blossom trees even behave this way - but I’m basing it off of... you know when it’s that point in fall where if you shake a tree branch leaves will just scatter everywhere? That. 

Also RIP to the other four who were just having a grand old time fishing and then turn around seeing these two sitting really close to each other almost holding hands about two seconds away from a kiss... which they’d just interrupted...

And then — the most incredible thing happened, and Edgeworth began to laugh.

Phoenix could have catalogued all the laughs he heard from Edgeworth: the usual, short laughs often mistaken for a scoff by those who didn’t know him as well as Phoenix did; the triumphant, smug, courtroom laughs when he thought he had Phoenix cornered; to the quiet, restrained ones in private that were more of a hum than anything else. This laugh was new.

This was a full-on fit of laughter bubbling deep in his chest and spilling from his mouth, which Edgeworth quickly covered with his free hand, with the additional bonus of covering his reddening face. It wasn’t something hidden or faked or triumphant, it was genuine, and open, and Phoenix could swear it was one of the most beautiful sounds he ever heard.

Miles here is going through an emotional rollercoaster having been two seconds away from finally kissing the love of his life only to be interrupted at the worst possible time, which is just so on brand for the two of them that he can’t help but start laughing hysterically. Plus Phoenix probably looks absolutely shocked suddenly covered in petals, which doesn’t help.

Then the next two paragraphs are brought on by Phoenix Pining and also me wanting Miles Edgeworth to laugh more... 

From my notes for this scene:

They stare at each other for a moment and laugh, and Miles’ laugh just utterly captivates Phoenix and makes him fall so completely in love immediately and oh no he is screwed he is utterly screwed.

So pretty much I had to encapsulate the “falling so completely in love immediately” part which I decided to do by focusing on Miles laughing. I wanted to draw a lot of attention to that which is why there are so many paragraphs dedicated to Miles laughing and Phoenix thinking about Miles laughing.

Trucy’s laughter always made the world feel a little brighter, and made Phoenix feel stronger. Edgeworth’s laugh did the opposite; it dislodged something inside of him, it weakened him, it made the whole world go soft and fuzzy around him. Instead of illuminating all the good in the world, it turned Phoenix’s world into one person.

More focus on Miles’ laughter but also... kind of drawing attention to Phoenix’s reaction to this being different from his reaction to other people he cares about laughing? Because feeling warm and happy when seeing someone you care about non-romantically laugh is normal, but then I wanted to make it clear that this is a different sort of feeling for Phoenix. 

Also Phoenix has to realize this is a different sort of feeling for him because otherwise he could brush it off like he’s probably dismissed all of his romantic feelings throughout the years as “oh I’m just glad my friend is happy, and I rarely ever hear Edgeworth laugh so him being relaxed enough to laugh like that makes me feel happy too,” but it’s not what he’d expect if he just sees Miles as a friend. And it’s described as weakening in the paragraph because right now the subject of his romantic feelings for Miles isn’t something that Phoenix can fully or easily accept right now (as chapter 5 would indicate).

Edgeworth’s fit of laughter subsided, and he shifted his hand so he could look at Phoenix again, the hints of a shy grin peeking out between his fingers, his hair and his shirt and his face adorned with a sweet, gentle pink. It was like looking at an entirely different person — or, no, the same person, but with all armor off, all guards lowered.

Miles is very embarrassed right now but kind of... in a good way...? Like again, almost kissed the love of his life then rudely interrupted at the last possible moment, plus Phoenix’s whole reaction to the thing gave Miles the impression that Phoenix wanted to kiss him as well, so he’s feeling a little giddy. Plus he was just laughing a lot when he normally doesn’t do that. Overall he’s not used to expressing his emotions so he’s embarrassed and a little shy about it...

The part about Miles’ “hair and shirt and face adorned with a sweet, gentle pink” refers to both the cherry blossom petals (in his hair and clinging to his shirt and a bit on his face) and also him blushing quite a bit.

It all feels a little out of character honestly haha because Miles isn’t really the type to be blushing hardcore like this and be a little shy, buuut in this case I let myself get away with it because he’s dealing with romantic feelings he hasn’t ever dealt with at this level before, and it’s also out of character just enough to really strike Phoenix in the heart. You can just imagine him staring at Miles with the most lovestruck expression on his face because he hasn’t seen this side of Miles before and he loves it.

Phoenix’s heart stuttered in his chest, and may have stopped entirely.

He was screwed.

He was completely and utterly screwed.

And even Phoenix can’t deny that he’s super in love at this point. 

I think I wrote this part, changed the words “screwed” to “doomed” right before posting, and then switched it back again for no particular reason. The Vibe just felt a little off but oh well.

Then the next chapter skips over the rest of this picnic but honestly Phoenix’s brain skipped over the rest of this picnic as well. Imagine the two of them just kind of standing around in a lovestruck daze for a while. I think Franziska had to physically drag Miles out of there. no one knows how Phoenix got home, not even Phoenix and least of all me!

But thank you Mika for requesting this!! And for drawing such incredible art for me to base the chapter around haha!!!

[ms-rampage]

Eden's Gate: Left Behind Chapter 3 - First Encounter

Warnings: Does sorta cutesy stuff count?

Word count: 2k

Once again John is out of character 😂😂, a certain Pepper girl is introduced, Kate has a few minor Sam Winchester moments and talks with a K9. Like I said in the other chapters, I added the University, and the Diner/Cafe for this series because #HeacanonShit.

Alissa (FC: Rhea Ripley)

Morgan (FC: Kathryn Newton)

****************************

For the past few days John watched over Kate, and got very little to no information about her.

She must be a very private person. 

"Where is she from?".

"What's her first name? Middle name?" 

"What's her birthday?" 

"What are her hobbies?" 

"Does she like planes?".

He was basically driving himself insane trying to get anything on her. 

He knows Joseph is right, but what if he isn’t?. What if she doesn’t like him?.

What if she doesn’t like men? Is she a sinner? A nonbeliever?. 

He didn’t even have the damn courage to approach her, and when he did, he kept getting interrupted by his men. They always called for him at a bad time, that's all they’re good for, bad timing. 

Tapping the keys on his keyboard, he finds more information about her.

"There you are" he says, sighing in relief. Clicking on the link with a photo of her.

Katella Evyanna Winchester 

Born in Phoenix, Arizona 

Lived in Jackson, Wyoming 

DOB: August 5 1998 age 19 

Father: Deceased

Mother: Unknown

Sibling: Jackson, Wyoming.

School: Hope County University, former Jackson University

Works: University Cafè & Diner.

"Interesting bio Katella" he says with a smile on his face. 

He has her full name, where she works, goes to school, her home address and a little bit of information about her family.

He wants to meet her face to face, and hopefully no one interrupts him.

He doesn't understand why, but he wants to be with her. 

She has potential to be, if it ever came to that point his wife, and maybe the mother to his future children. When they march to Eden's Gate.

He wants to know more about her "What does she like?". 

She has a dog, so he knows she likes dogs, and she has a classic car so she probably likes older cars than newer cars. 

"She works at the diner at the University. Maybe I can go see her?" he says to himself, unsure. 

He gets up, goes to his car and drives to the cafè diner.

******************************************  

Kate’s working, it's her first day on the job. 

She has an hour and 10 minutes until she’s off. 

The rush is not bad, it's pretty steady especially for a Thursday. 

It's her, her friends Morgan, and Alissa, and their supervisor Holly working. 

Morgan and Kate are clearing off the tables, collecting their tips, Alissa is taking a customer's order, Holly is working the counter, cleaning, and making coffee even though it's after 3:30pm. Kate was suppose to start at 4pm until 10pm but she was able to start her training early, and get off early, 11am until 5pm.

About 10 minutes later, John pulls into the parking lot outside the diner. He sees the black Monte Carlo. 

"Alright so she's working today" he says to himself. 

He parks his car, gets out and walks towards the building. 

He takes a glance into the window, and sees Kate cleaning up tables, his stomach starts to feel weird, and he might feel a little too excited to see her. 

As he's about to open the door, he sees Holly at the counter, "Shit" he mutters to himself. The feeling in his stomach goes away the second he sees Holly. 

The last person he never wants to see is her, they had a few nights together in the past, and that was several months ago. 

"Maybe she won't recognize me" he whispers to himself. Walking inside.

Oh boy was he wrong. John felt like the stupidest person in the county. Holly looks up, and immediately recognizes him. He tries to play off cool, and he ends up awkwardly walking to a table towards the back of the diner.

"I'll be right with you sir" Kate says to him, as she takes a bin of dishes into the kitchen. 

A smile forms on his face just by hearing the sound of her voice. It's very soft, and calming, almost like lavender. The feeling in his stomach comes back.

She comes back out from the kitchen a minute later, and walks towards John's table with a notepad and pencil in hand. 

But she unfortunately gets cut off by Holly, pushing her back a little. 

"It's okay sweetheart I got this" she says to Kate in a bitchy tone. Kate gives Holly, her classic (Sam Winchester) bitch face, and walks back to the counter towards Morgan. 

"So get this, Holly took my customer" Kate whispers to her. She snickers "Typical Holly" Morgan whispers back. 

"Thought I never see you again John'' Holly says to him in a sarcastic tone.

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, and says "Well I just stopped by to see someone". 

She gives him a hopeful but flirty look, and asks "Anyone in particular?". 

He smirks, crossing his arms and says. 

"Someone new, and slightly younger". 

Her expression changes from hopeful to annoyed. 

"What can I get you?" she asks. 

"A large coffee with 2 shots of scotch" he says jokingly.

"And maybe the cute brunette waitress in the flannel" he adds, looking over at her.  

Kate almost drops a plate with a customer's food onto their lap. She can feel her face turning red after he says this. She looks back at him, and he winks at her. 

Holly rolls her eyes in annoyance, and gives him a dirty look.

Morgan and Alissa overhear him, and they both let out a soft laugh. Holly looks back at them, while they walk towards the kitchen trying to hold back their laughter. John stares at Kate as she walks behind the counter. 

"Same ol' John Seed" she says, her hands on her hips.

Nodding his head "Yep, same ol' me" with a smirk. 

"Just a coffee" he adds. 

"Alright then" she says, walking to the counter. 

Kate comes out from behind the counter, and gives a customer their check. 

John looks up, and down at her, "she's got a cute ass" he thinks to himself. 

He can feel himself starting to get hard. He wishes he didn’t feel this way, but he’ll take her over Holly anyday. If only she moved to Hope County a lot sooner, so he wouldn’t have to deal with Holly.

She comes back with his order, and sees him eyeballing Kate. 

She scoffs "Someone new and younger huh? You haven't changed a bit have you?". 

He just shrugs while opening a pack of coffee cream. 

"Not really" he answers, with a cocky smug smile. 

Annoyed, Holly walks into the kitchen. 

He pours the cream, and sugar into his coffee, not realizing Kate is looking at him. 

His heart particularly skips a beat when she speaks to him.

"I like your tattoos" she says motioning to the tattoos on his hands, and arms. 

He looks up at her and smiles "Thanks". 

She sees the small lawyer scale tattoo he has on his hand, and asks. 

"Are you a lawyer?". 

"Yeah I am" he answers, looking down at it. 

"Never seen a lawyer with a lot of tattoos before” she jokes. That puts a smile on his face. 

“Where did you go to school?" she adds. 

His mind goes blank for a moment, and says. 

"I went to Emory Law in Atlanta". 

Kate stares at him for a few seconds, but to him it felt like hours, and he loves it. 

He loves to have her attention. He could’ve really used it growing up.

"You look very familiar. Normally, I'm terrible at remembering faces but yours just looks really familiar" she tells him. 

He half smirks, and says "I saw you the other day. You walked past the church". 

They say "walked past the church"  at the same time. 

They both smile at each other. 

Holly clears her throat in annoyance. 

Putting an end to their conversation, she tells her. 

"Kate, can you go get some more ground coffee from the walk in". 

"Yeah sure" she says, already detecting the jealousy in her voice. 

Walking into the kitchen. 

Holly approaches him, placing her hand flat on the table. 

"I know what you're doing" she tells him, in a slightly threatening tone. 

"Do you though?" he asks, tilting his head. 

"Yeah I do. You're flirting with the younger waitress to make me jealous". 

He scoffs with a hint of laughter, and says "Oh Holly, you haven't changed, have you?". 

She gives him an angry look, and says with attitude. 

"Don't waste your time on her. She's a bookworm. Only cares about her school work, grades and all that shit. She probably doesn't have anything interesting to do in her life". 

And Holly is very far from being right, like several thousand miles from being right. Kate’s life is a lot more interesting then she thought it would be.

He looks at her, lets out a short laugh, and says. 

"She sounds like she's my type. I mean have you seen her car?."

He leans forward, and whispers “She’s wife material”.  

Kate comes back out with the coffee, and fills up the machine. 

Alissa comes out from the kitchen, and walks over to her, asks. 

"What time are you off?" 

She looks at the clock on her phone, and says. 

"In 25 minutes". John overhears this, he finishes off his coffee. Pays the check, and says sarcastically.

"Great seeing you again Hol". 

He winks at Kate one last time before he leaves, causing her to smile again. 

Alissa whispers to Kate. "I think he likes yooouu". 

Morgan comes out from the kitchen, and whispers in her other ear. "I'm sure he wants to fuck yooouu" while hitting her ass.  

The 3 of them laugh about it, and Kate finishes the last 25 minutes of her shift. 

When the next waitress clocks in. 

She clocks out, gathers all her stuff, and leaves to her car. 

As she’s putting her stuff in the passenger side.

She hears a familiar voice say, 

"That's a nice car you got there". She turns around, and sees John. 

"Thanks" she says smiling. 

"Is it yours?" he asks. 

"Sorta. It was my grandfathers, then he gave it to my uncle, and he gave it to me" she answers. 

He nods his head. "I have my car, and my plane" he says, trying not to brag but he’s actually bragging. 

Kate, who is actually impressed, asks "You fly?". 

"Yeah, I love my plane. Do you like planes?". 

Not knowing what to say, she was honest.

"I’ve never been on a plane before. But I’m pretty sure I would enjoy it" she says. 

"I can take you out for a fly someday" he offers, hoping she says “Yes”.

She smiles, seeing his little game, and asks “Is this your way of asking me out?". 

He smiles, asks “Is it working?”. His eyebrows cocked.

She looks away, smiling and looks back at him, saying “It is actually”.

“Well I guess, we have a date then. How’s Saturday?” a charming smile. Those baby blue eyes piercing through her. Making her insides shake, bursting with butterflies. She’s surprised a handsome man like him is showing signs of affection towards her. She’s not letting this opportunity slip pass her. 

“That sounds great, I’m off at 5 on Saturday” she replies, with a smile. “Well I gotta get going, it was nice meeting you. John, right?”

He nods his head, says with a hint of lust in his voice. 

"It was a pleasure meeting you too Kate". 

She detects the lust in his voice, but ignores it, she’s way too excited that someone showed that kind of attention towards her. 

They go their vehicles, and drive their separate ways.

********************************************************

That night Kate is working on her Psychology homework, trying her best to stay focused. 

Even though it's still the first week of that semester, she can’t fall behind.

John keeps coming to mind, throwing her off her work. Distracting her.

She sighs loudly, leaning back in her seat, yawning out loud and stretching her arms out.

“Oh boy” she says, sighing.

Haley looks up at her owner with a head tilt. 

“I got asked out today Hale. Ain’t that a bitch” she says to her dog, as if she were human.

She lets out a bark, “Yeah, I know it's crazy huh?. The dude is a lawyer!!”.

She continues “So get this, he wants to take me for a ride in his plane”.

A pitchy whine comes from her along with another head tilt. She lets out a yelp, and sits on the floor next to her. 

She scratches behind her ear. 

“Yeah, I know. I told him that I’ve never been on a plane before, I panicked. I wasn’t gonna tell him that my sister and I exorcised a demon from one of the pilots. But I’m sure it’ll be fine, Paige won’t she’d have a heart attack and probably shit herself” she laughs at the last part.

[mchanv]

(DFYaH) Chapter 2: The First Pages

[Originally on AO3]

Summary: I’ve always wondered what Draco Malfoy’s side of the Harry Potter saga was, that’s how I came up with this idea. It is not possible at all to be canon, due to the inability of certain magical items in the story. It runs alongside the books very closely, so some dialogue or actions can come directly from them.      Draco Malfoy goes to Hogwarts for his first year. After being sorted into Slytherin and the night had fallen, a strange silvery bird gives him a message. The bird, seemingly a Phoenix, belongs to Albus Dumbledore, his Headmaster, who gives Draco a book upon his arrival in his office that same night. Draco has no idea what the book meant, but decides to go through with what Dumbledore has asked of him.

Ship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood (background)

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Word count: 4,630

—————

Draco woke up the next morning by Goyle calling him to ‘hurry and get dressed, breakfast’s about to start!’ He grunted and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand, while his other searched blindly for his wand. Instead of his wand, his hand touched something different, something with a weird, wooden texture.

    He raised his eyebrows, took it and looked at it. He recognised the pencil Dumbledore had given to him the day, more like night, before. He looked down at his bedside table at the other things; all of them were still there: the notebook, eraser and the sharpener of which he had forgotten to ask the exact use, and the book. The book was still there, the book Dumbledore had asked him to study, the book of which Draco got the feeling was something full of extremely difficult and powerful magic.

    He dismissed it and searched for his wand, finding it at last underneath the notebook. He took it and put it in his pocket before realising he was still wearing his robes from the day, or night, before. He dropped the hawthorn wand back on his bedside table and disposed off his robes. He took new ones from his trunk, put them on, took his wand, and was planning to leave the room before his eyes fell back upon the book.

    He wondered for a second if he should take it with him, but decided against it. Either way, they got their timetables today, so he’d have to come back for his school books. He’d have the chance to take it with him then.

—————

Down at breakfast, they got their timetables at eight o’clock. Draco looked down at his and searched for Potions. The Slytherins had their first lesson Potions on Friday morning, double Potions with, Draco groaned, the Gryffindors. He looked back at Monday and saw they started with Charms, and then Herbology. He got up, deciding he had eaten enough, and went down to the Slytherin dormitories again to get his books. Classes started at nine, so he only had about half an hour to get his book before having to start the impossible quest of reaching his first lesson in time.

    In his dorm, he took The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore figuring he’d come back after his second period for those of Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration for the afternoon. He wanted to leave and start his search but his attention was pulled away, for the third time that morning, to the book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone on his bedside table. He stood there for a good five minutes, contemplating. His Headmaster wanted him to study the book, page 1 to 139 before Friday no less, but he would look flat-out ridiculous walking around with a book about Potter in his hands.

    Draco sighed and put the book in his bag. Maybe, maybe, he’d get a few minutes off during the lessons so he could start reading.

—————

Draco soon found out it would be impossible for him to actually read the book during the lessons. Flitwick had almost immediately, after taking the register, started with a bit of history about wands and a few magical laws. He hadn’t given them any homework yet, but Draco thought it wouldn’t be long until they got foot-long essays to write and difficult assignments to fulfill. It was the same for Herbology. Although it was a calmer lesson, and Sprout gave them a full fifteen minutes free at the end of the lesson, Draco didn’t deem it safe to take out the book. While everyone was talking about their lessons or lunch, Draco sneaked out and went back to the castle, down to his dormitory in the Dungeons.

    There, Draco switched his books for A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switchand and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble. Figuring Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration would be the same as Charms and Herbology, he took the book Dumbledore gave him out of his bag and put it in his trunk. He walked over to his bedside, took the four other things, and put them with the book.

    But, for the second time that day, he had been mistaken. Defence Against the Dark Arts was the most boring lesson he had ever had. Of course, his first History of Magic lesson was the next day, so he didn’t know how boring they would be yet. Quirrell taught them nothing and, the last half an hour of class, just gave up and let them talk to each other for the remainder of class.

    Draco thought he was the only one that wasn’t talking to anyone, his mind drifting off to the book every five to ten seconds. The whole class was talking in groups of two or three, often to their neighbours. Crabbe and Goyle were talking together to his right, but Draco couldn’t understand a word they were saying, and not just because they were whispering.

    Draco sighed and was about to get up when his eyes fell upon a brown-haired girl sitting alone in the corner. Draco thought for a moment that she might not be a Slytherin, and that that was the reason she sat alone, but dismissed it as he saw the green and silver linings on the uniform.

    He got up and walked over to her, his bag swung around his shoulder. The girl looked up as Draco neared her. Draco felt her gaze upon him as he sat down opposite her.

    “What’s your name?” Draco asked carefully. “And why are you on your own?” The second part was out before he could stop himself.

    The girl sniffed quietly and looked up at him. She seemed sad even though there weren’t any tears in her eyes.

    “My name’s Pansy, Pansy Parkinson. And I don’t really have any friends...” the girl named Parkinson whispered.

    “Yet,” Draco added. She looked up at him with a quizzical look.

    “What do you mean?”

    “Well, we could be friends,” Draco decided. Beside of Crabbe and Goyle, who he only knew because their fathers were ‘old friends’, as his father always told him, Draco didn’t really have any friends. And the one time he did try to befriend someone... Well... Draco still remembered that moment vividly, as if it was the day before, which, he reminded himself, was.

    Draco looked up at the girl to see a small smile on her face.

    “I’d love to!” she beamed excited. Draco hesitated before holding out his hand and was delighted when Pansy took it. He returned her smile, and he found himself chatting away for the remaining fifteen minutes of class.

    He actually only remembered they were in class as, at a quarter past two, the bell for break rang. Draco talked with Pansy the whole way to their Transfiguration classroom, completely forgotten about the book. For the first time in a long time, he finally felt that he had found a friend, a real friend, not the son of your father’s friend.

    They made sure to sit next to each other in Transfiguration, but had little time to talk as it seemed every word McGonagall told them was of high importance. They ended up with half a scroll of notes each. Draco again felt he lucked out as they didn’t get any homework.

    They had around two hours before dinner started so Draco pulled Pansy to every little secret his father had told him the day before he left for school.

—————

An hour later, the two eleven-year-olds entered the Slytherin common room exhausted. They each went up to their respective dormitories to get rid of their books.

    Upstairs, Draco took out his timetable and was delighted to see they got Tuesday afternoons off. Only Herbology and History of Magic to suffer through. He put his books away in his trunk. Right before he closed it, the lights reflected on something golden on the bottom of his trunk. He reached out and grabbed it; it was the book. He had completely forgotten about it since he’d made a new friend.

    He looked around the deserted dormitory and sat down on his bed. He read the title: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. The words seemed almost natural, having read them a few times already. But, thinking them through a little, he didn’t understand a third of them. What was this ‘Philosopher’s Stone’ that was written in the title?

    Curiosity taking him over, he opened the book and soon found a table of contents.

    They read:

         Chapter one          The Boy Who Lived

         Chapter two          The Vanishing Glass

         Chapter three          The Letters from No One

         Chapter four          The Keeper of the Keys

         Chapter five          Diagon Alley

         Chapter six          The Journey from Platform          Nine and Three-Quarters

         Chapter seven          The Sorting Hat

And, at last:

         Chapter eight          The Potions Master

This time, Draco knew the meaning of most of the words. The Boy Who Lived was that Harry Potter, Draco’s father had told him about that once; the Keeper of the Keys must refer to that Hagrid oaf that lives on the grounds in this little shabby shed; Diagon Alley, who doesn’t know that? Well Muggles and Mudbloods... but they’re incompetent either way. Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the well-known Platform. The Sorting Hat speaks for itself and the Potions Master must refer to Severus Snape, Potions teacher and Head of Draco’s house.

    At the end of that list, there weren’t any more things written. Strange, Draco thought, only eight chapters for this many pages? Deciding to test his ‘theory’, Draco opened the book at random and found himself looking at a blank piece of paper. It was as if the book wasn’t finished yet. It seemed Draco’s guts had been correct in telling him this was not just a book, not even a book of the Wizarding World. No, it was stronger than that, way stronger.

    He turned over the next page and looked with wide eyes at a map of Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds. Of course, it wasn’t a very accurate map, but everything was on it: Hogwarts, the Greenhouses, Hogsmeade Station, even Hogsmeade itself, a while outside of the Grounds. Whatever this book was, Draco had started taking a liking to it.

    He turned over one more page and saw the start of Chapter one: The Boy Who Lived. Out of pure curiosity, Draco started to read.

    The book started with a certain Mr and Mrs Dursley, who lived at number four, Privet Drive. And, even though he had no idea who these Dursleys were, Draco soon found he didn’t like them that much.

    “How dare that ‘Mr Dursley’ insult our style!” he whispered under his breath, outraged. These people were obviously Muggles.

    He continued reading, making random comments under his breath, until he read two certain lines. He had to read them again to make sure they really stood there.

    ‘The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard —’

    ‘—yes, their son, Harry —’

    Draco got the feeling he knew when this was. He read a bit further and the lines about a ‘tiny old man’ telling that Mr Muggle to ‘Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last!’ confirmed his thoughts.

    This was the day after the Dark Lord had lost his powers.

    Filled with a new curiosity, he read on with excitement travelling through him like a blazing fire.

    Still making his usual comments, Draco soon noticed something. That cat... a tabby cat with markings around its eyes... He remembered their first Transfiguration lesson.

    They had entered the Classroom right on time only to find a cat sitting on the desk, no McGonagall in sight. Suddenly, the cat had transformed into McGonagall. The cat had been a tabby and had peculiar markings around its, or rather, her eyes!

    Feeling proud of himself, he read on.

    Soon, he forgot about his usual comments. At ends of certain sentences he just stared blankly at the page, fascinated, entranced and sometimes even sorry. His expression turned more serious as he read about his Headmaster wanting to make Potter live with those horrible Muggles. Like, what was he thinking?!?! But, after a while, he understood his intentions.

    Draco finished the chapter right as the door opened. He jumped and hid his book, looking up to see Pansy.

    “And what do you think you’re doing? Dinner’s about to start!” she said slightly angry.

    “Sorry, Pansy,” Draco apologised, he got off of his bed, the book hidden behind his back.

    “I’ll wait for you in the common room, hurry,” she said and left.

    Draco sighed and looked at the book one last time, a small smile on his face. Suddenly, he didn’t really mind having to study it. “Study! I totally forgot about that!“ he remembered, speaking in a whisper, “I’ll do it after Dinner.”

    He put the book away and left the room.

—————

After dinner, he returned to his dormitory straight away, telling Pansy he had something important to do for school. It wasn’t a complete lie; he did have something important to do, but he wasn’t sure if it was for the school or just for his Headmaster.

    In his dorm, he took the book and the four Muggle things from the bottom of his trunk and settled down behind his desk, next to his bed. Every student had one to make homework on. It also kind of sported as a bedside table since it stood next to the bed.

    He read through the chapter once more, scribbling down important pages on a spare piece of parchment with the pencil. He had never worked with one before, but it wasn’t all too bad.

    Finishing the chapter for the second time, he opened the notebook and wrote:

         Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone          Chapter one: The Boy Who Lived

Beneath it, Draco started making notes. He soon found a good system: reading a page, writing important information, reading the next page, writing important information... He continued this for the whole chapter and then looked at the time.

    His eyes widened, it was half-past nine. For a second, he wondered if it might be wrong; the dorm was still deserted. But Crabbe and Goyle answered his doubts by entering. Draco sighed, he put away the pencil, the eraser of which he found out erased the pencil, as its name said, and the sharpener he had used to sharpen it, in his trunk. He put the book and notebook in his bag and swung it around his shoulder.

    Crabbe and Goyle didn’t even bat an eye as Draco left the room. Unfortunately, getting out of the common room turned out to be a bit more difficult.

    “Where do you think you’re going, First Year!” the male Slytherin Prefect called over the noise, Draco came to a stop right in front of the exit.

    Draco started sweating nervously; most of the students in the common room were Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years. “Out,” he answered briefly, turning back to the door.

    “I don’t think so, boy,” the Prefect said, “First Years aren’t allowed to be out after eight o’clock, you must know that.”

    “Of course, I do!” Draco exclaimed loudly, “Who do you see me for? Some dumb, reckless Gryffindor?” Many people laughed at the joke, but the Prefect only got more angry.

    “Don’t talk to you superior like that!” the other Prefect demanded above the laughter, silencing the room. “Students are only allowed out after curfew if a teacher says so.”

    “I know,” Draco said. “So, can I go now?”

    The two Prefects stared at him with their eyes wide.

    “Didn’t you hear her?!” the male one shouted. “You are not allowed out of the Dormitories!!”

    Draco gave them each a sharp glare before giving up and returning to his dorm. There he saw the other four boys were already in bed. Determined not to pull any more attention to himself, he walked over to the window and sat down, staring deep into the Black Lake. It was quite fascinating, honestly, how the windows in the Slytherin Dormitories were underwater.

    But Draco wasn’t paying attention, he was trying to find a way out of there, unnoticed by anyone. Dumbledore expected him to be in his office at ten o’clock, but the Prefects wouldn’t let him pass. A quarter had passed already, a quarter to go. Would Dumbledore mind it if he came late because of his Prefects? Draco hoped not because there was nothing to do except to wait. Draco waited and waited until a quarter past ten.

    He got up and sneaked to the door, opening it soundlessly. He looked into the common room and was relieved, to say the least, it was mostly deserted. He walked over to the exit and left, unnoticed by the handful of Slytherins still in the room, working on their homework. While hurrying through the corridors, Draco hoped he never had to make his homework this late at night and made a note to himself to never let it come to that.

—————

Five minutes later, he finally found the stone gargoyle statue, waiting for a password to allow entrance to the Headmaster’s office. With his bag carrying the book and notebook clutched tightly in his hand, Draco hurried over to the statue and said, in a clear voice: “Chocolate Frog” the password Dumbledore had told him the night before.

    The gargoyle freed the way and Draco walked up to the door. He knocked and entered after the Headmaster’s voice had allowed it. Draco entered, looking slightly ashamed; he was at least twenty minutes late and he wasn’t proud of it.

    “Ah, Draco. I was wondering when you’d come!” Dumbledore greeted. He gestured Draco to sit down, Draco complied without a word.

    A few seconds later, he dared open his mouth. “I’m sorry I’m late, sir...” he apologised, “the Prefects wouldn’t let me leave.”

    Draco hoped this was enough for his Headmaster and was relieved to see him nod and bear a small, understanding smile. “I certainly don’t blame you, Draco. Sneaking out this late at night, but not late enough, is incredibly difficult.

    “Now, you’ve received your timetables today. When is your first Potions lesson?”

    “Friday morning,” Draco answered simply.

    “Right. And you remember your task?”

    “Finish the first seven chapters before the first lesson.”

    “Good.” Dumbledore gave him a bright smile. “Have you started working already? Seeing as you were locked up in your Dormitories for a while.”

    Draco nodded. “I finished the first chapter and noted the most important parts in the notebook.”

    “Great!” Dumbledore beamed. “Can I see it?”

    Draco nodded again and took both the book and notebook out of his bag. He handed the notebook over while keeping the book to himself. Dumbledore opened it and examined it for a while before looking back up at Draco.

    “Can I keep this for the night? I’ll make sure you have it back before tomorrow morning,” Dumbledore requested, Draco nodded.

    “All right, then that’s settled. I was wondering whether you could come here again Saturday night.” Draco nodded again.

    “Goodnight Draco.”

    “‘Night, sir,” Draco said, he put the book back in his bag and left the office. He was halfway to his Dormitories as he remembered all the little notes he had made in the margins. He walked the rest of the way in embarrassment, his head held low and his pale cheeks tinted pink.

    That night, he might have fallen asleep even sooner than the night before, certainly feeling way more tired. He cheered himself up with the thought of having the afternoon of the next day off before drifting off.

—————

Draco woke up by the sound of wings fluttering. He opened his eyes and saw a real Phoenix this time, not the silver copy of it, holding a book in its beak. Draco sat up and took the book. A small smile formed on his face as he noticed it was the notebook.

    ‘Before tomorrow morning’, he does stay through to his words; it’s only four o’clock.

    The Phoenix flew away. Deciding he couldn’t sleep anymore, or just because he didn’t want to, he grabbed the book from his trunk and opened it on page 19, were the second chapter, The Vanishing Glass, started.

    He lit a small night-lamp his mother had given with him, laid down on his bed and started to read.

    A while later, he had to suppress a scream. He reread a certain part a few more times, not believing a word of it.

    He’s a Parselmouth!! What! No, that’s impossible... He can’t be. Draco couldn’t believe it; he just couldn’t. Potter, a Parselmouth... He had to give it to him, though, vanishing glass just like that. Still, he couldn’t believe it, not until he had some kind of confirmation. The book must have been lying, Draco decided.

    He read on and felt slightly sorry; he knew exactly what that flash of green light was and why it had brought him pain. And had those Muggles really been telling Potter his parents died in a car crash? They’re horrible... Azkaban worthy.

    He finished the chapter in a small half hour and decided to immediately read the next one. It was only half past four in the morning and classes started at nine so he had plenty of time.

    Draco, he had to say, was incredibly surprised that those Dursleys, or horrible Muggles as he liked to call them, just discarded the Hogwarts Letters. Like, how could they?!

    He finished the chapter another half an hour later; it was five o’clock now and immediately read on.

    He started getting some respect for that Hagrid oaf as well. If it wasn’t for him, H—Potter would still be with those Muggles, and Draco thought even some of the most horrible wizards and witches didn’t deserve that. Some did though, some certainly did.

    And that pig’s tail was amazing, totally worth it. Draco was glad Hagrid had told Potter the truth about everything, so glad he was beaming at the end of the chapter.

    That last chapter only took about twenty to twenty-five minutes, but it felt way shorter to Draco as he jumped in surprise as he saw it was already half-past five. He laid the book by the notebook on his desk and took the pencil, eraser and sharpener out of his trunk. Settling down behind his desk, he followed his system of the day before.

    It took him an hour to complete only the second chapter and only got halfway through the third as Theodore Nott woke up. Still afraid of judgement, he marked the page and hid the things. Who wakes up at six? Draco wondered after taking a look at the clock.

    A quarter later, Theodore left the room and Draco returned to work on the third chapter, finishing it in time for the other three boys to wake up and leave the room before the clock hit seven. Draco was convinced he’d manage to finish the fourth chapter before eight, so he continued working.

—————

Draco sighed and leaned back, about an hour later; he finished it and was very proud of himself. Right as he had put everything away and was planning to change and go down to breakfast, Pansy entered the dorm.

    “Morning Pansy,” Draco greeted cheerfully as he noticed her.

    “Mornin’,” she muttered sleepily, “I was coming to see if you were up already, but I see you are. See you up at breakfast, then.”

    “Sure,” Draco answered and Pansy left the room.

—————

The morning went by fairly quickly, although History of Magic was incredibly boring, he was lucky he still had Pansy to talk to. He had to say; they were already becoming good friends, and he looked out on strengthening that friendship even more.

    Draco was happy he had already finished more than half of the task Dumbledore had given him so he allowed himself to spend the afternoon chatting with Pansy. Draco often saw heads turning their way as they sat next to each other on a couch a bit away from the fireplace. Sometimes, he saw small groups of First, Second or Third Years repeatedly looking back at them in between whispers.

    After dinner, Draco was the first one to go to the First Years Boys’ Dormitory, and he decided to read one more chapter before going to bed. He smirked triumphantly as he saw he was already on chapter 5, Diagon Alley.

    After a few pages, he got quite a suspicious feeling from Quirrell; he didn’t know why. He read the part about a vault seven hundred and thirteen very attentive, not missing a word. Whatever that package was, Draco got the feeling it would be something important.

    His expression changed again to a half sad, half stern one as he read on. He read about the part where he and Potter met for the very first time at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Back then, Draco had had no idea who that ruffled-looking glasses-wearing boy in oversized clothes was, acting incredibly idiotic and, Draco felt bad when he read it, reminding him of that horrible Muggle bully cousin.

    He quickly read on, laughing a little at precious Potter, wanting to buy a solid golden cauldron. Wait. Precious? Draco thought incredulously. Never! He read on and, at the part in Ollivanders, he returned his full attention to book again.

    ‘... holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.’

    A pretty nice wand, if Draco would say so himself. Draco had got a hawthorn and unicorn hair, ten inches, springy when he went there the same day.

    He was surprised about the fact Lord V—the Dark Lord’s wand and Potter’s wand had the same core, making it brothers, but suppressed his surprise as he heard voices slowly nearing. He quickly read on and, right at the end, Crabbe and Goyle entered the room. He hurriedly put away the book, changed into his pyjamas and got into bed.

    This time, he lay awake for a while. Not thinking about the book, well, kind of maybe, but thinking about what he had called Potter. That morning, he had nearly called him Harry, although that must have been because that’s how it’s written in the book. But that didn’t change the fact he had called him precious, and that thought couldn’t leave his mind.

    He lay awake for maybe a full hour, recounting the times he had seen Potter the past three days. He had to stop himself from smiling every time he recalled Potter smiling, feeling sad every time he remembered Potter being abused and bullied by those who were supposed to be his family.

     And, after a long time, he had to stop himself from thinking about Potter and finally get some bloody sleep because tomorrow was a school day with a midnight lesson. In the end he did manage to fall asleep, only to meet a smiling Potter in his dreams.

—————

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Witches, Chapter 28: Themis school festival, redux. Nobody dies but everyone is depressed, up to and including yours truly, the author.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

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“I guess I should’ve learned my lesson the other day about your sense of timing,” Apollo says. 

“You could’ve paid for a taxi,” Athena says. “Like you did the other day. You had options! You chose to accept a ride from me!”

“You could’ve learned your lesson from the other day, too, and not been late,” Apollo says. 

“Hey, it’s not late unless the trial starts without me, or I get to the office after a client or Mr Wright has shown up.”

“Is that what we’ve expanded the rules to be now?” Apollo asks. 

Themis stands quiet and empty, and cold besides. Even the campus itself seems more battered and worn than it was a few days ago; the wind has torn loose or knocked down a number of the posters and signs planted along walkways and on building walls, and no one has bothered to gather any of them. Athena picks up a crumpled, out-of-date advertisement for the mock trial and shoves it in her pocket until they find a garbage can.

“You wanna just wander around?” she asks. “We’ll find everyone after the mock trial and see who won.”

She had been so insistent on wanting to watch the mock trial the other day, but they’ve wrung every last surprise out of Juniper’s script and Apollo, at least, has no particular desire to head into the lecture hall and relieve some of the most stressful bits of their past two days in court. The photograph of Courte posed as the body for the mock trial autopsy report, and days later a victim for real. The arrow stabbed into her side, not merely held there by her own hand. “Sure.”

On the sidewalk out toward the dining hall, some enterprising student with colorful chalk scrawled INVESTIGATE ALL ADMINISTRATION NOW. “I guess Mr Wright was right,” Athena says. “They won’t be able to bury this scandal this time.”

“Gonna be a hell of a school year from here on out,” Apollo says.

“I wonder how Hugh’s doing,” Athena says. “I believe he didn’t know his grades were bought, of course, but I’m not sure all his classmates are going to believe him. And I bet some of them are gonna be pretty angry about it, and take it out on him.”

“Yeah.” Though Hugh’s attitude probably hasn’t made him many friends already, besides Robin and Juniper. He might be used to disdain from his classmates, not that it will make it any easier. High schoolers are cruel. And adults can be just as petty, so there’s not really ever any reprieve. Hopefully he can come back from this; hopefully he tells his parents to go to hell for it, and hopefully Robin and Juniper stick by him.

Chalk writing in another corner of campus reads WHO ELSE IS LYING? “I guess it’s probably equally possible that Means was or wasn’t the only person at the school involved,” Apollo says. “Like Mr Wright said, it depends on how the process of changing grades works.”

“It’s funny,” Athena says. “When he gets talking like that and it’s all - just seems disjointed and irrelevant, but then there’s actually buried in there that’s important.” She goes quiet, watching the trees bend in the wind, and she skips forward and stomps on a leaf blowing across her path. “When I first met Mr Wright I had no idea who he was - like, I knew all about Phoenix Wright, but I had no way of connecting this guy I’d just met who was like, weirdly chill about me being a kid who wanted to investigate crime scenes, to, y’know, the famous Phoenix Wright.” Apollo nods numbly, remembering his first time meeting Phoenix, and all of the twists and turns his opinion of the man took in one day. “He wasn’t what I expected. He’s still not what I expect.”

“He’s got a way of surprising you,” Apollo says. It’s the kindest, most truly honest thing he can say. He likes Phoenix, really, he does - he admires him still, sometimes. He’s also one of the most frustrating people Apollo has ever had the misfortune of knowing. 

Athena laughs suddenly. “Man, can you imagine if Hugh wins the mock trial?” she asks. “I would love to be able to sit in on the lecture that Mr Wright is supposed to give. He’ll probably say something bonkers two minutes in and then get stuck having to explain all of his extremely niche life advice.”

-

“I shouldn’t be here,” Hugh says. 

The classroom is a small one, on the second floor of the main building; Phoenix had no instructions on where his lecture is to take place, and no one seemed to be around to ask, so with Hugh trailing silently behind him Phoenix poked his head into every other room they passed until he found one with chairs that look comfortable enough.

“The terms are that the winner of the mock trial gets a special lecture.” Phoenix seats himself in a chair and drags another one over to kick his feet up into. Special lectures are probably better if they’re informal. “So unless it was your doppelganger who won the mock trial, here you are, the winner, and here I am, the…”

The teacher. God, why did he ever agree? Why did he ever think he could teach anyone anything? 

Hugh flinches. Great start, Phoenix: mock the kid you’re teaching. “That was - that was so stupid of me,” Hugh says, “stupid like me, as stupid as everything else that I—” He puts his head in his hands. One of them is still bandaged heavily. “That I said that the People of the Hills are - creatures, and criminals, and I was just saying things but Juniper is one of them and I - she just has so many reasons to hate me now because of all the stupid things I’ve done!”

“You don’t believe what you said there, about the fae?” Phoenix asks. 

Hugh jerks his head up, wild-eyed. “I was just saying things,” Hugh repeats, clutching the side of his neck. “I just wanted to say something that would convince Prosecutor Blackquill, and I figured, if he’s not one of them he’s close to it and he’s a criminal, so - I’m just afraid that Juniper might think that, if I had known this about her - that she’d think if I’d known she wasn’t human then I wouldn’t have wanted to protect her. And that’s not true at all. She’s my friend. She and Robin are both - I mean I’m surprised, sure, but they’re still Juniper and Robin.”

Phoenix nods. “Then you tell them that. You tell Juniper this doesn’t change anything. Tell Robin the same, too, just to make sure she knows. But you’re still wearing your friendship band, and they still are too. You made it through suspicions of murder with that friendship intact - this is just smaller stuff you’ve gotta work out now.”

“Thank you,” Hugh says quietly. His head sinks again. “But I still shouldn’t be here. The mock trial is for the students at the top of the class, and I’m not. It should have been someone else, not me! They should have figured out who and let them participate, not me! And I only won because I watched your two lawyers win and I borrowed all their strategies and theories! I basically cheated! Just like I tried to cheat by looking at the script and—” He waves his bandaged hand before grabbing at his hair with it again. “I shouldn’t ever have been in this mock trial!”

“Perhaps not,” Phoenix says. “Or maybe, if you didn’t think you were good to go, getting unearned hundreds, you could’ve been buckling down and learning and learning how to study better.” Hugh shifts his hands so that he can look at Phoenix, while still hanging his head like a kicked puppy. “If you weren’t coasting through on confidence, and maybe with your determination - because I can see you are determined to become a lawyer, just like a lot of kids I’ve known, don’t try and object to that - maybe you could’ve been best in your class if you knew your failings and knew to work with them and around them. We’ll never know now, but it could have been possible.”

“No it wouldn’t,” Hugh mumbles. “I’m an idiot, and I shouldn’t be here, and you don’t understand that.”

Phoenix laughs. He can’t help it. He doesn’t mean to - this is the side of him that he tries to keep from the public eye now, tries to keep from Athena, wishes he could’ve kept from Apollo - but he laughs anyway. Hugh’s not wrong that he’s a bit of an idiot. He’s just coming to the wrong verdict from that fact. “Hugh, I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself for all the stupid things you’ve said this week, because that is the stupidest thing you ever could’ve said.”

“Huh?” His bitter laugh, and his sudden sharp words, have startled Hugh into sitting bolt upright. “What do you even think you’re talking about?”

“I’m Phoenix Wright, nice to meet you,” Phoenix says, extending his hand, and unsurprisingly, not getting a handshake in return from Hugh, who appears even more confused. His eyes dart toward the door, considering whether to run, whether Phoenix is crazy and even worth talking to. “Tell me what you know about me, Phoenix Wright.”

Hugh shakes his head. “You’re a brilliant lawyer. You’ve had a lot of celebrity clients - Will Powers, Max Galactica, Matt Engarde. You’ve defended famous legal figures - Lana Skye, the Miles Edgeworth. You - you’re a genius, you’re a legend. Professor Means had us study so many of your cases and your strategies, how you pulled off every crazy victory. I can’t even - begin to - to compare, or to—”

“Stop circling around it and tell me what you know about me,” Phoenix says. “The thing everyone knows about me and avoids bringing up around me.”

Hugh blinks. He doesn’t say anything. He scratches his neck. He adjusts the bandage on his hand. Phoenix brings his feet to the floor and leans forward, staring Hugh in the eyes. “I was disbarred for double the years that I’ve been an active lawyer. Half of the legal world of Los Angeles is still convinced that I framed Kristoph Gavin twice. That is the first thing you think of when you think of Phoenix Wright, isn’t it?” Hugh freezes, sitting there like a statue. “Whether or not Means told you that was something to admire about me, using forged evidence, that’s still the first thing you think about me.”

Finally, Hugh nods. “He said it was a lesson about how you have to be careful,” he says. “How dirty prosecutors will use any tricks they can to trap you.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I figured,” Phoenix says. “Wrong lesson, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. I did use falsified evidence, but I wasn’t the one that falsified it. Actually, the lesson is still about being careful, honestly.”

“Like when Professor Means gave me the audio tape that he made,” Hugh says glumly.

“Exactly like that,” Phoenix says. Hugh stares at the floor. Phoenix sits back and drops his head against the back of the chair. “In all honesty, Hugh, I can’t tell you if you should or shouldn’t be here. That decision is yours, whether you want to stay or go. It’s not going to be easy - not, I’m not talking about - okay, the Bar isn’t easy. I’ve taken it twice, I know. But everything you do - this bribery scandal, your grades, most people aren’t going to care whether you knew or didn’t know, if it was your parents or you. They really won’t care. This is going to be attached to you for the rest of your life - wherever you go from here, whatever your career becomes, whatever you do. You will always have this blemish on your name. You will never get away from it.”

Phoenix Wright, attorney, asterisk.

Hugh’s shoulders slump even lower. 

“It has to be your decision, whether being a lawyer is something you want strongly enough to spend your career fighting past this perception of you. I can’t decide that for you.”

“You decided that for you, then,” Hugh says. “You decided it was more important than everything that people say about you.”

Phoenix hesitates. Did he? Or did Edgeworth decide that for him - or did Phoenix decide that Edgeworth was more important than everything that people say about Phoenix? “What I can tell you is that you’re not the only person struggling with - you’re not the only one who’s got to live with past mistakes defining you, however you’ve grown past that. And I’m not your only company, either.”

Is this a damning indictment of the state of their legal system, or just a statement of the very bad luck of everyone Phoenix and Edgeworth have ever met? 

“Like Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth - if you know anything about the trials in which I defended him and Prosecutor Skye, you know what his reputation was. I know two brilliant prosecutors forever marred by sharing a name with a father who committed unforgivable crimes.” And Sebastian shares this exact schooling situation with Hugh, too. “And of course, there’s another brilliant prosecutor who’s here at this school today who has to share his name with all the wrongs his brother did.”

And share a face, too. Doppelgangers.

Hugh stares back down at his feet, his hands tightly gripping his neck, his elbows pulled together in front of his chest. “I think,” he says weakly, just barely peering up at Phoenix over his glasses. “I think - I still want to be an attorney. Even if I have to start over. Even if this is the first thing everyone thinks of when they hear my name.” Dropping his arms, he sits up straighter. “Juniper and Robin and I all promised that we were going to help make the legal system better. I still have to help them. And I want to be able to be like Ms Cykes and Mr Justice, winning honestly and finding the truth. I want to be as good as they are.”

A lump rises in Phoenix’s throat. Pride, and shame. They’re damn good kids, and what is he? Setting them loose because if he keeps away he might not repeat that laundry list of mistakes he made with Apollo with Athena. (Might. No guarantees. Will probably screw up in new terrible ways instead.) Keeping secrets from them, carefully skirting around the edges of lies. 

“I’m glad,” Phoenix says. “Face it head-on. It won’t be easy, but I hope you’ll find it’s worth it.”

-

“So Hugh won, then,” Athena says.

When the crowd starts spilling out of the main building, they determine the mock trial has ended and force their way upstream through the students back to the lecture hall, where they find Robin and Myriam have lingered. “He did!” Robin says, without a shred of disappointment. She’s practically bouncing as she said it. “I can tell he learned a lot from you, man! And how much ass you kicked yesterday! And I mean,” she continues, giggling, “I can’t quite pull off Prosecutor Blackquill’s thing. I’ve gotta learn to be scary!”

“I don’t think you need to do that,” Apollo says. “I think you should stick with your strengths.” Whatever those are. Pottery, and loud shouting. Apollo doesn’t know about the former, but the latter is a valid, tried-and-true tactic and a proud tradition. 

“Oh! Thena! Hi!” Juniper emerges from the audio booth, her arms full of the blue and white fabrics of her costume. “You made it! I have to run now though. Since he doesn’t have to teach a lecture to Robin, Prosecutor Gavin thought it would be good to use the time for extra practice.” Hefting her costume up further in her arms, her voice lowers and she reluctantly adds, “Which is good because I didn’t practice last night even knowing I’d have to sing today.”

“Understandable,” Apollo says. “I was exhausted last night, and I wasn’t the one on trial.”

“But you and Thena were doing all the work.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Athena says to Juniper. “You’re gonna do great, I know it!”

“Oh, and if Prosecutor Gavin starts to get snippy with you, don’t worry about it being your fault,” Apollo says. “That’s just how he gets when it comes to performances. Turns into a prissy diva, but don’t let it get to you.”

“O-oh, okay.” 

Apollo very suddenly gains a certain clarity that tells him that his warning is only going to stress Juniper out more. Well, shit. 

“Prosecutor Gavin, really?” Robin asks, watching Juniper scurry off and the last stragglers empty out of the lecture hall. “He seems so calm cool and collected!”

“Yeah, Trucy and I once thought that, too,” Apollo says, mostly to Athena, who was absently nodding along with Robin’s statement. “And then we learned better.”

Myriam pulls one arm back within her box and produces a notepad and pen, which she begins scribbling on. Does she have a storage pouch within there for her journalistic tools? “Are you writing that down?” Apollo asks. “Don’t write that down.”

“You can do so much better than being a trashy tabloid reporter!” Robin says.

Myriam hisses like a disgruntled cat. “But it’sss what I’m good at!”

“So I guess it’s just us for the moment, then?” Athena asks. “Where are we headed next? What’s there to do at a school festival, anyway?”

“You’ve never been to one?” Robin asks. She marches off toward the doors and waves for everyone to follow her. “There’s lots of food, for one, and I am starving, so I think that should be our first priority.”

“I skipped high school,” Athena says. “Or - I guess I sort of speed through it. I didn’t take the time to do much but study law and psychology.”

“Really?” Robin asks. “I figured you went to some other school like ours! Not just went on your own like - wasn’t that lonely? Or boring? Forget what my parents want, if I’d been trying to do this all alone without Juniper and Hugh, I for sure would’ve quit already!”

“Lonely?” Athena repeats, frowning and then twisting her mouth to the side. “No, I guess I never really felt lonely, since I was - I knew this was something that I wanted to do and I needed to do and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. It never really crossed my mind, that I was doing it alone.” She smiles, a little sadly. “And then eventually I met Mr Wright, and Prosecutor Edgeworth, and then I knew I definitely wasn’t alone anymore. I had people I could ask all my important questions of!” 

Envy coils tight in Apollo’s chest and he tries to strangle it. Just be glad for Athena, he tells himself. Be glad for her that she’s not had an intimidating boss she was afraid to ask too many questions of, who turned out to be a murderer. Be glad for her that she’s had Apollo also here to help, instead of just relying on a fifteen-year-old with no legal aspirations. 

“You’re so lucky,” Robin sighs. “Not a single one of the prosecutor teachers here has any force of personality what-so-ever. That’s why we got sucked into the Courte-slash-Means cults of personality too. What are we gonna do, care at all about our own professors? Puh-lease!”

“Maybe going forward you shouldn’t go making cults of personality around people who might be fallible,” Apollo says.

Myriam hisses. “Ss-seems unlikely. It’s-sss how people are.”

“But being aware, you can definitely change it, right?” Athena asks.

“No,” Myriam says. Athena’s mouth flaps in abject confusion. So much for expecting some wisdom or a moment of self-reflection out of these kids. 

Myriam has begun to explain to Robin that she doesn’t actually know who any of the prosecution course’s professors are.

Even now that it is filled with activity, the campus still holds a subdued energy. Athena’s head swivels in every direction, toward every conversing group they pass. The emotions must be overwhelming to hear, and when they stop for a moment here and there, Apollo can properly people-watch, and even only hearing small snippets of the conversation, flickers of red flare up across his vision. A hand clutching a phone tightly while arguing with a classmate, a bouncing knee or a fingernail chewed, Apollo isn’t listening and doesn’t want to listen - he doesn’t want to hear anyone say that Means was framed or Juniper isn’t innocent, doesn’t know if it will happen but wants to take himself as far away from the chances of it as he can - and still. Still he notices. Is he getting better at this? A stronger sight? He doesn’t want to be better at it. He doesn’t want to know if he isn’t watching for it.

He wants to be normal when the case is over, but that doesn’t happen. Not at the Wright Anything Agency.

-

Hugh carries himself differently now. Even with the mock trial win under his belt, the arrogance he held himself with is gone. The realization that he wasn’t a genius clearly hit hard - a gut-punch of an attitude adjustment - but Apollo hopes he can learn humility from this. Maybe there’s a certain relief in no longer pretending. Everyone knows. Everything about all three of them - Hugh, Robin, Juniper - is out in the open now. 

(And then there’s still Myriam, within the box, and Phoenix’s blue eyes piercing through the cardboard shell.)

“Trucy called, said she’ll be coming around soon.” Phoenix leans up against the side of the building, his suit jacket folded over one arm. “I’ll probably catch up with you kids later, but I won’t hang around now and cramp your style, don’t worry.” He reaches out and grasps Hugh’s shoulder. “Hugh, very nice to meet you. Good luck.” 

“Yeah,” Hugh says. “Thanks for - er.” He looks at everyone else standing there. “Um. Thanks.”

“Now go have some fun,” Phoenix says, waving them off. “You all deserve it, now shoo. And oh, Apollo, if I don’t get the chance, tell Klavier I say hi, when you see him.”

Apollo waits for him to toss the magatama over, but he doesn’t. Maybe he forgot it, or maybe he figures that since he’s got a performance, a whole crowd to be watching, this is one time that Klavier won’t disappear.

-

As the late afternoon wears into evening, heavy clouds gather, the bright hues of the sunset reaching out from behind their dark masses paint the exposed sky. The chill in the air drops to cold, and Apollo wonders if he’s the only one who notices, the only one whose teeth are chattering - shit, he’s thinking about Means’ teeth again, and if in the long run this haunts him more than an actual fucking yokai trying to kill him that’s gonna be some sad sort of funny. (Ask Athena about the psychology of that.) No one else says anything about being cold. Too excited to notice, and Apollo, at a frankly normal level of anticipation, is the only one shivering. The only one with an issue for any reason with the decision to camp out a spot not far from the stage, long before the concert starts. 

Trucy finds them there, and tells them she would have forced them to stake their claim if they hadn’t - Apollo negotiated their location out from under the scaffold-mounted speakers, and that’s more kindness to his ears than he expected they’d be willing to give. The stage lights rise, the screaming begins, and Apollo braces himself.

The show is shorter, and much less flashy, than at Sunshine Coliseum, and that suits him perfectly. Out in the open air, the sound dispersed easily, and even at its peaks the music is a tolerable volume. Phoenix only shows up during the penultimate song. The friendly hand he has extended to Klavier does not reach his band, or his music. Apollo can’t blame him - he still isn’t a fan. Sure, some of it - a lot of it - is catchy, but that doesn’t make it suddenly to his tastes. Or even good. Gavin is talented at what he does, which is making entertaining songs, though again, fine art they are not. 

(Trucy always tells him he protests too much. Apollo tells her she has no idea what she’s talking about, shut up.)

When the rest of the Gavineers disappear offstage, silence hangs suspended over the crowd, the briefest breath of respite, the last echoes of screams and applause bouncing faintly off of the surrounding buildings. Klavier remains alone under the spotlights, radiant in the blinding white lights, and stepping away from the microphone, he waves Juniper up beside him. In her stage gown, she practically glows, the luminescent exterior of her cloak shining as the fabric swirls with her every movement. Trucy gasps and smacks Apollo’s arm. Phoenix glances over at them and his mouth turns up in a wry smile.

Juniper doesn’t sound like Lamiroir, and in Apollo’s not-very-musically-inclined opinion, she doesn’t sound like she’s trying to sound like Lamiroir either. That seems the better choice: no one else can ever sound like Lamiroir, so there’s no reason to invite the comparison more than necessary. Without a piano backing, right from the start the song already has such a different feel that it further dissuades the comparison. One thing for certain: the shy girl they met earlier this week has a hell of a voice, when she gets to using it. And Apollo joins as enthusiastically in the raucous applause as everyone else. 

When the last notes fade out into the dusk, Juniper ducks her head for an immediate retreat. Klavier doesn’t let her; he springs up and catches her hand before she goes far, swinging his arm up and raising hers high. He waves to the crowd, motioning upward, and the cacophony swells with him. “Themis!” he shouts, leaning into the microphone, his voice still barely rising over the cheers. “One more time for your very own Juniper Woods!”

Athena and Robin are definitely trying to outdo each other as the loudest, most supportive friend. After a moment, Hugh drops his veneer of sophistication and joins in. Trucy slaps Apollo on the arm again, grinning wickedly, and starts a countdown on her fingers for the two of them to show up their friends. Athena, laughing as she does, claps her hands over her ears and yells something back at them that is drowned out in the rest of the noise. She shoves Trucy, and Trucy hits Apollo in the back, trying to use them as a wedge to shove their way up through the crowd to the stage. This maneuver sees limited success. Instead they are forced, as is everyone else, to wait, slowly shuffling to the stage for autographs or to scream love confessions or whatever fans of bands do, Apollo doesn’t know. The only other concert he’s ever been to had a murder at it.

“Junie!” Athena squishes herself up against the side of the stage, stretching herself up to her friend, who crouches down to take Athena’s hand. “That was amazing! You were amazing!”

Juniper laughs nervously. Her face is pink, and that might be embarrassed anticipation of the compliments that her friends are going to lavish upon her head, and it might also be the exhilaration and the hot stage lights. “Thank you, Thena.”

“Your voice!” Robin gushes. “You have the most wonderful voice, Juniper! I can’t believe it! Except of course I totally can, because it’s you!” 

Juniper ducks her head into her knees, her hood falling entirely over her face. She mumbles something, muffled by the fabric and all the other excited clamor. “Ah, look at you, lucky Fräulein, and your little gang of groupies out to support you.” Klavier leans over her shoulder, grinning down at them, his hair tumbling in messy sweaty curls around his face. Apollo hates him just on principle, just for the sake of it. “I see everyone made it.” He sweeps his hand back through his hair, pushing away all of the loose stray hairs stuck to his forehead. 

“Groupies?” Juniper echoes in confusion, lifting her head. 

“Groupies!” Athena repeats happily. “Junie’s groupies!”

“Ah,” Juniper says, and she tumbles backwards out of her crouch to sit on the stage, looking up at Klavier. “Do - do you need help? Is there anything I can do to get everything put away?”

Klavier shakes his head. “No need, but thank you. We have a system.” He straightens back up, looking over the stage, and his bandmates also assailed by the crowd. “Short a man, now,” he adds darkly, “but easier to do it ourselves than try to bring someone in. And besides, with this crowd, it will be quite a while before we’re even able to break away from the greeting to do anything else. You go spend some time with your friends, Fräulein. Get some rest - it’s been quite the week.”

Juniper inches to the edge of the stage and Athena offers a hand to her to help her down. “It was very nice to get to sing with you, Prosecutor Gavin,” she says. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again in better circumstances.”

“One hopes,” Klavier replies. “Until then!” He steps back, with a jaunty wave and a wink. “The rest of my fans await me, ja?”

He bounds back across the stage, leaving Apollo without the chance for a word. “He’s kind of a douchebag, isn’t he?” Hugh says. That’s rich, coming from him. 

Juniper shakes her head. “He’s actually kind of sweet,” she says. “Though he is also a bit…” She trails off, glancing to Apollo for help, obviously remembering the warning he gave her earlier.

“Of a diva?” Trucy chimes in. “High-strung? Perfectionist? High-strung perfectionist diva?”

“Er,” Juniper says, eyeing Trucy in puzzlement. “Yes? But um, I’m sorry - who are you?”

-

Juniper is something of a celebrity among her classmates now, for the good and the bad - the group of them with her in tow can barely make it one step before someone else assails her with a question about what being a defendant was like, or compliments on her singing. Making their way free of the stage area, away to somewhere quieter where they’ll all have room to breath, is a long, laborious process, and all the more difficult when Juniper’s glowing robe lights her up even between the scattered pools of lamplight. Myriam is the first to come up with an idea; she helps Juniper shrug off the cloak and bundles it up into a tight ball and brings it under her box with her, freeing them to escape under cover of darkness.

“So how long do we have to be friends before we get to see your face?” Robin asks Myriam. They’ve commandeered a picnic table on the edge of campus, piled with all the foodstuffs that Athena and Robin and Trucy managed to snatch from wherever they passed. “I bet you’re really pretty!”

The crunching beneath the cardboard box abruptly stops. Myriam had relinquished her hold on Juniper’s cloak, not wanting to get crumbs on it, and Athena currently wears it inside-out to accentuate her usual yellow style with some extra, luminescent, yellow. “No,” Myriam says. “I’m - I’m not. You don’t want to sssssee.”

Does she go to class with a box over her head, too? Or does Robin just not have any classes with her? “Myriam, look,” Juniper says. In the dark, next to Athena, she looks yellow, but she stretches out her hand over the table and asks, “Does someone have a light?” 

Apollo is the first to get his phone out; under white light, Juniper’s skin is clearly green, a light, soft green, healthier than the other shades she showed in the detention center. Her fingers don’t have claws but her nails are white, like they were polished, and particularly shiny. In her white ruffled gown, her shoulders bare - she isn’t cold, of course she isn’t, Klavier doesn’t get cold either - and her wavy hair loose, she appears to Apollo how he might imagine a nymph of Greek myth. A tree spirit. (Juniper Woods - what a name.)

“We’re all a bit—” Juniper shrugs and touches the pointed tip of her ear. “It’s okay. Even if you don’t want to, or whenever you do.”

Myriam hisses wordlessly, but nothing about it sounds like a threat or maliciousness. Just an acknowledgement that Juniper is speaking to her. “We’re all a biiiiit weird,” Robin adds cheerily. “Maybe not these lawyers” - she waves a disapproving finger at Apollo and Athena - “but us Themis kids! And that is cool, I will have us know!”

If she had any idea of how fundamentally weird and fae the Wright Anything Agency actually is—

“Ah, um, Juniper,” Hugh says. He has been silent most of the day, alternating between intently watching the conversation go by, and zoning out so far that Robin kept count of how many times she could say his name before he would react. (Record: eight.) “There was something that I’ve been meaning to say to you.”

“Huh?” Juniper must at least suspect what is coming, with that fearful look in her wide red eyes. She’d heard that rumor too, and Myriam starts upright with a soft thwap as her hand hits the inside of her cardboard box. 

“Juniper, can - can we still be friends? Best friends, the way we all were?”

“Huh?” Athena asks.

“That’sss not—”

“Hugh?” Juniper asks.

“When I won,” he says, “I was going to tell you that I’m not a genius at all, and that I’m actually sort of twenty-five, but that all came out at the trial, so I just have to ask now if - if we can still be friends, if you still even want to be friends, or if there’s all these stupid things I’ve said, and done, not knowing, and that’s why you never told us this about yourself—”

“Sort of?” Widget echoes and Athena snarls something unintelligible at it and closes a hand around it like she’s going to strangle it. She does, however, when the momentary anger at her interrupting machine passes, still look very confused.

“Hugh,” Juniper says sternly. “And Robin too.” She folds her hands together, fingers intertwined, and clenches them tightly. “I wanted to tell you both, so badly, and I just couldn’t figure out how. I was scared - it wasn’t anything you said or did. I always was just going to be afraid. And I - I understand, completely, the things you’ve said. The Gentry are terrible,” she adds. “And cruel. I know that too. That side of my family was cast out. My parents are dead and my grandmother turned into a tree.”

Athena’s mouth opens with a soft pop and hangs open, her jaw moving back and forth as she searches for words that she ultimately can’t find. Apollo can’t put together a question either, and if he could he wouldn’t ask now. He sees on Juniper’s face that this, however strange, almost laughably strange, it sounds, that this is raw, painful, and she’s opening up her heart for six people to hear. However much detail she wants to give is up to her, and he won’t be the one to press for more.

(But he’s definitely going to ask Athena later, if she ever finds out more from Juniper.)

After several seconds of silence, Hugh says, “I thought I could just - get in and out. Just wander back out. And then when I didn’t I thought it was - a couple years. Two or three maybe.”

“Time passes differently there,” Apollo says. Trucy nods solemnly. 

“Time in—” Athena looks from her to Hugh, and then to Apollo. “You mean in - in Faeryland?”

“Yeah,” Apollo says. 

Hugh folds his arms. “You were the one that asked that question in court, after the prosecutor mentioned my age,” he says, in a slightly accusatory manner. “Whether I was actually twenty-five or had spent a time - elsewhere.” Apollo has no idea what he’s being accused of, but it doesn’t sound good. 

“Hugh,” Juniper says. “Robin’s right. We’re all weird.” Her eyes dart nervously over at Apollo, waiting to see if he takes offense to that. He nods. He’s weird. He knows that. He’s weirder than anyone knows. He’s weirder than he himself knew. “And some of us are going to know weird things. It’s going to happen. It doesn’t mean anything bad.”

What was Hugh’s first impulse - expecting that Apollo is fae? That he’s been involved with spiriting humans away? Can Hugh not tell that Apollo is human - does spending seven years there not grant someone the Sight? There’s nothing about Hugh that Apollo would describe as even vaguely charismatic or glamorous - does stumbling in as a teenager not change a person the way that Klavier was? Apollo should ask Klavier if he knows. 

Juniper’s defense doesn’t do much to lessen Hugh’s suspicious glare, and Athena still looks deeply curious, resting her chin on her hand and staring at Apollo. He sighs. “I know someone who was taken and explained that to me,” he says.

Athena nods, satisfied, but now Trucy is the one with the intent, piercing stare. Apollo glances away. She’s not going to let that go easily. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t properly answer your question,” Juniper says suddenly. “Hugh. Of course we’ll still be friends, but I don’t want it to be like we used to be. How we argued, and all the secrets we had from each other.” Her eyes turn down to her hands, and the friendship bracelet on her wrist. “I don’t want any more secrets. And I want us to work together - Myriam too - so we can make a better legal system, where we’re fighting for the truth and not victory. And we’re not trying to justify our methods by our end results.”

She’s taken particular care to avoid that particular “ends justify the means” phrasing. “Hell yeah, I’m in!” Robin says. She holds out her hand, and Juniper reaches out and takes it. Hugh clasps his over theirs, and after a moment of hesitation, Myriam tentatively places her hand on the pile.

“We’ll make Professor Courte proud,” Juniper says. She doesn’t draw her hand back right away, leaving her open palm facing upward on the table, and then she slowly curls her fingers closed. “Prosecutor Gavin mentioned the memorial for her. I’d like to head over there.��

Themis has begun to empty; they still pass other groups of students, but those tend to be smaller and quieter, more subdued as the night has gone on. The stage is empty when they pass, the crowd long scattered. Trucy grabs Apollo’s elbow and drags him far behind their small procession. “I didn’t know you knew someone like that,” she says in a low voice. “Someone like my mother was.”

Her mother: stolen as a child, her soul stripped from her, and now - what is a soul without a body? Something close to death - something that wishes it could be dead? An unfortunate life that was to lead. “Believe it or not,” Apollo says, “I have a life where things happen to me and I speak with people while you aren’t around.”

Trucy grins. “I don’t believe that, no,” she says, and she lapses into silence, clearly receiving the message that Apollo isn’t going to tell her who. But as they amble on she seems deep in thought, tapping her chin, surely going over the list of everyone she knows Apollo knows - as if he doesn’t know anyone not of her mutual acquaintance - and wondering who could fit. Surely she’ll come up with Klavier as a plausible contender. 

If she knows any of the traits that stolen children like him and her mother have - if she even remembers anything of her mother at all. 

-

The memorial for Courte has expanded. Flowers spill out over the walkway, laying in bunches around the framed photograph of the professor that is itself nearly obscured by notes taped to it and stuck on it. Some of those notes are elaborate, tiny writing covering their faces; others are just a few words or a simple drawn heart. Someone moved one of Courte’s abstract sculptures here from the art room to sit behind her photograph. Almost buried in the midst of everything is the same photo of the professor and Juniper in the art room that became contentious evidence on the first day of the trial - hell, judging by the way the top edge of the photo is punctured and crumpled, it might actually be the printout that the prosecution used. He wonders who brought it here, if it was another piece of evidence that Klavier or Vongole repossessed. Or maybe Blackquill had heart enough to send his hawk out on a last errand for this case. 

Juniper kneels down and sweeps up a dozen flower stems in her hands - some tulips and carnations, a large sunflower, all begun to wilt and wither at the edges of their petals. Apollo thinks suddenly about the flowers of faery rings, wonders if they ever wilt or if they remain, unnaturally enduring, until someone comes along with a matchbox and a past to lay to rest. Busy thinking, he nearly misses it when Juniper starts humming softly and the flowers cupped in her hands emanate a faint glow, all the colors of their petals, and like time rewinding the shriveling edges pull back together and the wrinkled surfaces smooth. Juniper sways and slumps to the side, dropping the flowers to catch herself with one hand. “I’ve never been very good at that,” she says. “But I wanted to try.” 

She picks the flowers back up from her lap and lays them neatly at the base of the picture frame, sweeping aside a few other dead petals and leaves. Something clatters against the pavement and frowning, Juniper reaches out and picks up a simple metal ring. She holds it between her thumb and forefinger and stares through the center for a moment before, seeming to decide something, she sets it back down with the flowers she revived. 

“Well, I think that was pretty good,” Athena says, offering Juniper her hand to help her back to her feet. “I’ve never seen anything like that!”

Juniper brushes off her skirt. “You probably haven’t seen much magic, have you?” she asks.

“Other than the time a bird-demon yokai tried to kill us - I mean, I didn’t actually see much of that, it was trying more to eat Apollo and Trucy.”

Was that metal ring iron? Is being half human enough to make one immune? She can’t be immune - the detention center affected her, and badly. Maybe she’s just human enough that the effects of iron aren’t so dramatically painful, and scarring. Like it did to—

Apollo wonders who that ring belonged to, anyway. Thinks back to the empty dark stage. Trucy gives Apollo a nudge, jarring him to go back over what was said after everyone decided there was far too much to unpack in Athena’s statement. Robin said that there was an exhibition set up of all of Courte’s latest works that never got the chance to be unveiled, along with some of the Fine Arts Club student members’ art pieces. Hugh suggested that be where they go next. “You all go ahead,” Apollo says, conscious of all of the eyes on him, and in particular the unnatural fae red of Juniper’s, and Myriam’s reflecting any faint bit of light. “I’m gonna - gonna go see if Prosecutor Gavin’s still around somewhere.”

“Sure thing,” Athena says, before anyone else, and Apollo wonders for not the first or last time what she’s heard, from him, from Klavier, if, someone holding the magatama excepted, Athena is the only person Klavier’s glamours can’t truly hide him from. (Her assertion that her ears aren’t magic is one Apollo thinks he could come to believe - if nothing else, for the fact that Blackquill doesn’t seem to be able to disrupt her. Or maybe he thinks the psychological analysis that Athena pairs with it valid enough to let her get away with it.)

“Just lemme know if you’ll need a lift home or not,” she adds.

“Sure thing,” Apollo says, and Trucy sticks her elbow straight into into his side as she passes him by. It’s like primary school. This is the productive way that primary schoolers engage with each other in regards to crushes. Apollo in his personal and professional lives is surrounded by children. This isn’t even a revelation. 

And then he’s alone in the dark, and part of him wishes that he’d asked Trucy to come with him instead, because while there’s a lot she doesn’t know, there’s plenty that she does, and she’s better at people. Klavier’s her friend too, and she didn’t even get to say hi earlier. They could’ve just gone to check up on their friend together, and Apollo wouldn’t be second-guessing his every decision now. 

He doesn’t even have any guarantee that Klavier didn’t take off and flee as soon as the crowd thinned.

He could just text him. If he knew what to say. Which he doesn’t. And while it’s also painfully awkward to not know what to say in person, he also figures that the principle of the thing is that, at least he’s there.

The stage’s dozens of grand lights have all gone dark by the time Apollo circles back. The outer lights on the main academic building faintly illuminate it, the little that there is to see. The banner overhead on the scaffolding proclaiming this to be Themis’ sixty-seventh school festival has detached at one side and flaps noisily in the breeze, and Apollo remembers several other colorful tapestries hanging off of the side of the building that have already disappeared. The huge speakers and the scaffolding itself wait to be deconstructed another day.

Apollo looks at the stage and finds himself looking everywhere around the stage. 

He could laugh, remembering what Phoenix said once: Trucy had tried to distract him with a will o’ the wisp enough times that he knows when a glamour like Klavier’s is trying to fool him. He might still laugh later, because it could in some way be funny, how he’s been caught up enough in this to know.

But right now, staring at the ground to find his way to the stairs to ascend to the stage, it’s not really funny at all. His eyes won’t focus and he feels dizzy, wobbly, and off-balance forcing them in a direction they want to drift away from. If it gets any worse he might vomit, and he’s going for Klavier’s shoes if he does.

A moment after that thought passes through his head, the sensation starts to fade. He blinks a few times and presses a hand to his forehead, trying to shake himself back to normal. His eyes no longer roll, unwillingly, in directions other than where he aims them. 

“I should have expected,” Klavier says.

Apollo looks down at Klavier, lying on his side behind the stage’s witness stand, where the microphone stood during the concert, his arm folded beneath his head, his hair loose and splayed about. Apollo remembers the crime scene photos, remembers that Courte’s body was here, behind the witness stand, on her side. Almost the same. But there isn’t any blood, and Klavier’s eyes are open, staring up at him through the dark.

“That he would—” Klavier stops and props himself up on his elbow, squinting at Apollo. “You don’t have it.”

“What?” Apollo asks.

“The magatama,” Klavier says. “He didn’t give it to you?”

“Oh,” Apollo says. “No.” He remembers that Phoenix told him to say hi to Klavier, and decides right now it might be better not to. Second pass in silence; he waits for Klavier to ask him how he found him, then, or why. Klavier’s arm slides out from supporting him, to rest his head on it again, and his eyes fall from Apollo’s face to the surface of the stage, vacant and empty. Maybe picturing Courte’s body there, or the banners soaking up her blood. He looks tired - so terribly, impossibly tired. After a moment, he rolls over onto his back, staring up at the sky.

Apollo sits cross-legged on the stage.

The sky is dark, devoid of light, and Apollo studies the starry backdrop of the stage. Whoever painted it didn’t concern themselves with making any real constellations. He doesn’t remember if Juniper, on her costume, had random patterns or did some research. It’s not like it matters, but it’s something Apollo takes note of anyway - a sign of how long he’s known Clay more than anything else. All the strange and sometimes stupid ways that chance meetings change people. 

He looks at Klavier, whose eyes remained fixed on the sky.

Funny that, chance meetings.

Apollo spins his bracelet on his wrist, feeling the familiar grooves carved into the metal. Waiting for when Klavier decides he’ll say something.

The sky actually has the slightest bit of variation to it - the darkness of the sky, and the darkness of the clouds, two different shades, and the clouds shifting and parting with the cold wind. Winter, the fae’s horrible winter, is close on its way. Apollo shivers. Nothing about the prospect makes him happy.

“Means told me something interesting the other day.” Apollo doesn’t like the tone of voice that Klavier uses to say interesting. Not bitter, but promising nothing good, either. Apollo looks at him. He isn’t looking back at Apollo, has his face turned to the sky but doesn’t quite seem to be really looking at anything at all. 

He waits, but Klavier doesn’t go on. “The second evening we were investigating?” Apollo prompts.

“So Herr Wright told you, then?” 

“N-no, he didn’t - he wouldn’t say anything.” There’s something so dark in Klavier’s voice that makes Apollo nervous, leaves him scrambling to defend Phoenix with an urgency he usually doesn’t feel when it comes to Phoenix and his myriad recorded failings. Phoenix telling Apollo something is not a concern that Klavier needs to have. “Athena and I were at the detention center, talking to Juniper, and Means was there - still thinking maybe he could get the case from us, I guess. But Mr Wright showed up, asked to talk to Means - when Athena and I left, we heard them arguing. Neither of them named any names but Mr Wright was accusing Means of having - threatened someone, or - or trying to discourage them from investigating by - something he said. But when we asked Mr Wright about it, he wouldn’t say who they were talking about, or what was said.”

Klavier finally turns his head, enough to arch a doubtful eyebrow at Apollo. “What, you think Mr Wright ever says anything instead of just being a cryptic bastard about it?” Apollo asks, and that gets a snort from Klavier, blowing some strands of hair up off of his face. But he does look like he believes Apollo now. “But he - Mr Wright - he was furious. At Means, for whatever - whatever it was that he said.”

Klavier stares back at the sky, his lips pressed tightly together, pondering that. “A threat,” he muses. “I didn’t think it - well. I was not imagining Means a murderer either, so I was wrong in my understanding in several ways, I must imagine.”

“What did he say?” Apollo’s voice sticks in his throat, emerging a weakened squeak. 

“That it was foolish and selfish of me to have returned here - that it is my fault that Frau Professor is dead - I suppose that must have been what your boss considered an attempt to—” He waves a hand above his head and even in the faint light Apollo notices as he gestures that there isn’t a single ring on any of his long fingers. “Fortunately I am far too stupid to even understand that his message was to make me - give up, or accept that my involvement in this case did more harm than good. I figured it to be some expression of grief, a lashing out, over his coworker’s death - but knowing that he killed her, and now that you mention it—”

Tell Klavier that Courte’s death is on him, and watch him break - the way Klavier broke when Juniper mentioned her after the trial. Crumble his resolve so that he doesn’t keep going and get that audio recording examined; as far as gambits go for the covering up of murder, this one is a stretch, but Means probably still got some satisfaction out of being able to hurt someone who was being an extra thorn in his side, one that never should have been there because he’s a goddamn prosecutor, and not the one prosecuting the case.

But there’s a lot Apollo still doesn’t understand, even as rising dread reaches out to stifle his next question. He almost doesn’t want to ask for clarification. He knows he has to. Closing a hand around his wrist, he digs his nails into his arm. “But - why would he say that? How could it have been your fault?”

“Oh, it’s very funny.” Klavier talks like Apollo isn’t there, like he’s talking to himself, tossing thoughts into the air and seeing what comes of them. “That when we first met that I should have tried so hard to warn you away from your office, that Herr Wright is cursed and should make it so much more likely to damn you to an early death - and that I sitting there telling you that am after all no better, or safer a person to be around. That I can see all around but in a mirror.”

Apollo thinks he knows what he means - he can’t mean anything else. But he isn’t quite saying it, either - would Athena call that a defense mechanism, some last moments of clinging to some sort of denial rather than saying the words directly - and much as Apollo doesn’t want to drag it out of him like this, he also wants to be sure. And whenever Klavier and Phoenix talk around a point, Apollo is never sure that it isn’t really actually some new fae magic thing he hasn’t been introduced to yet.

“You’re cursed?” Apollo asks. Klavier blinks his eyes closed and keeps them closed, and then he nods. Apollo swallows. His nails in his skin hurt. “By - b-but - who?”

A ragged laugh croaks from Klavier’s lips. “You know who,” he rasps. “Who else? Surely not the man who’s done this before!” There’s a near-hysterical edge to his voice that Apollo has never heard before. “He’s cursed people and killed people for their petty slights to his pride, and I am - stupid enough to assume that he could not hate me enough to treat me the same as he has everyone else who has had the misfortune to—”

“You’re not stupid,” Apollo interrupts.

“Blind,” Klavier says, “and naive.”

“That’s not—”

“When he didn’t end lives he ruined them, and I helped him do it!” Klavier pushes himself upright, his hair a mess and a wild glint in his eyes. “I was so proud, truly I was, to have played a hand in exposing the corruption of such a prolific defense attorney! To tell my professor that I was living up to her ideals and teachings - I was wrong!” He curls his head toward his knees, and digs his hands into his hair. Both of them, Apollo sees now, are bare of rings. “How could I come back here and face her when I was so wrong?” 

Apollo shifts forward. He wishes he had a single word to say, that he knew would help, or even would just not make it worse. “Why should she forgive me?” Klavier asks. “Why should he—” He lifts his head up, and all the mania has bled from his face, leaving him nothing but distraught. “Why did he forgive me?”

Apollo doesn’t say anything, and even if he had anything to say he’s not sure that he could. All else aside, he thinks, Phoenix means well - he just never channels that into normal human words or actions. Klavier’s hands slowly uncurl from his head. He’s shaking. He laughs, sick and nervous and just as shaky. “Why am I - why didn’t this just kill me, instead?”

The lump in his throat is too big to swallow. Apollo shakes his head. He expects, for a moment, that Klavier will lash back out at him for his silence, for not having an answer to impossible questions. But Klavier doesn’t say anything more, or glance away again, just rests his arms on top of his knees and stares at Apollo over them, looking at him like Apollo’s done anything more than sit here stupidly quiet, growing sicker to his stomach and closer to sympathetic tears with every moment had he lets this digest. A bad question comes to mind, born of false hope that he’s sure Klavier would have already explored, and unable to stop himself from wondering and hoping anyway, Apollo asks softly, “Are - are we sure he wasn’t bluffing? Professor Means, I mean? Making it up to…?”

Means gleefully found Athena’s weak point and repeatedly jabbed her there until even Blackquill, master of the art of cruel underhanded cuts, offered Athena a hand to get her back on her feet rather than let Means win. Apollo wouldn’t put this past him either. 

“I did wonder,” Klavier says. “Thought then perhaps it was just a lie he made lashing out in grief, which is why your boss heard of this.” He gives a small, dismissive wave. “I went and asked him. If it was true. If I’m cursed.” Shaking his head, he adds, “Even if he’d said nothing, the look on his face was all the answer I needed, ja?”

“Oh,” Apollo says. He has a little trouble picturing it, honestly - Phoenix, the poker king, ever careful to not let slip any expression he doesn’t want seen. “I - I’m sorry.”

A small sad smile twitches onto Klavier’s face, and Apollo kicks himself for not having been smart enough to say that much sooner. Silently, they watch the wispy clouds drift across the dark sky. “I expected,” Klavier says quietly, “for a moment when I saw you, that he told you what happened, and gave you that magatama for that purpose.”

He’s not quite wrong to suspect that Phoenix would be particularly - what’s the best word here? Nosy? Micromanaging? Or the other way to look at it, concerned? Phoenix has had that habit before. “No,” Apollo says. “But you explained to me how your disappearing act works, and when I noticed something not seeming quite right, I figured it was you.” Klavier snorts. “And we - me and Athena and Trucy and the Themis kids - Juniper wanted to go to the little memorial for Courte. She was kinda arranging the flowers left there and she found a - a ring like—”

“Like this?” Klavier says, lifting one hand and spreading out his bare fingers for Apollo to see. Apollo rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh and Klavier chuckles; the grin lingers for a few seconds before it slowly falls, and Klavier’s eyes turn downcast again. “Ja, well, I have little else to offer her memory, and what point lies in it for me when I am already cursed?”

“Stop yourself from being cursed again by someone else?” Apollo suggests. “I mean, I think Mr Wright - he’s been - multiple—” He remembers Phoenix once talking about how different curses land against each other, in the way he talks when he’s pretending not to be referring to himself. 

“Ja,” Klavier says. “He told me my brother was not the first to hate him so.”

That’s surprisingly direct of Phoenix. Like Apollo is the only one he doesn’t say things to. “Well, there’s your point,” Apollo says. “For it to not get any worse.” He slides the ring from his finger and offers it back to Klavier, who, staring at his hands, doesn’t see him right away. 

“Difficult as it is to imagine this getting any worse,” Klavier says darkly, but when he raises his eyes he notices what Apollo is doing and laughs sharply. “Nein, Herr Forehead, no need for that. I have not had the rest melted down for scrap, just left them at my apartment. You keep that. Keep yourself in one piece for me, ja? You’ve got no need to worry after me.”

Apollo remains unconvinced. He’s still going to worry. He’ll continue to worry, and he’ll press on that later, but a new thought has begun to eat at him, sinking teeth into his stomach and twisting until it hurts, nausea and anxiety and a sick nervous pain. And the anger, this same anger that he’s felt again and again, ever single goddamned time this happens. “Wouldn’t - wouldn’t Mr Wright have known about this? Before you asked? He could’ve Seen - he should’ve Seen—”

“We’ve crossed paths twice since I last saw my brother,” Klavier says. “Yes. He undoubtedly knew before I.”

“He should’ve told you,” Apollo says.

Klavier shrugs. “To what end?” Now he sounds casual, too casual, almost like the lack of care isn’t quite feigned, like all of Apollo’s justified bitterness and anger was leeched away from Klavier and leaving him with nothing at all to just shrug. Phoenix knew because Phoenix knows everything and Klavier knows that he knew and didn’t tell him and Klavier shrugs at it. 

“The truth?” Apollo asks. The truth, because that’s what they’ve always been after, together, since they met. Since before they properly knew each other, since before they knew what the other was about, they were still chasing that same goal.

“And what of it? Justice was already served. Kris is already in prison, for the rest of his life, however short the state cuts it, for what he has done. I know that. What difference more does knowing this make?”

Apollo gapes at him. His head spins. He thinks about Klavier taking this stance with any other person, any other crime, and he can’t make this thought work. “This doesn’t sound like you,” he says, lacking anything else to say. This isn’t right, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. 

“And who am I?” Klavier snaps back. “You think you know? You think I am to want to know that my brother hates me, ja? Just because that is the truth? I knew that! I know that!” He stands up, unfolding himself but only to assume a different defensive posture, arms folded and tightly clutching them, drawing himself up in a way that Apollo wonders if it’s a conscious choice or not, to mimic Kristoph. Apollo scrambles to his feet after him, searching his face for Kristoph’s and finding that it’s only pain that twists and contorts his expression. “‘Ignorance is bliss’ is not a mantra for our profession,” Klavier continues, “but I will tell you that it most assuredly is when it comes to them and their curses.”

“Right,” Apollo says irritably. He wants to scream, but not necessarily at Klavier - just scream, at nothing, at the world, at the great cosmic and fae injustices heaped on their shoulders. “Which is of course why you didn’t warn me about anything and let me blindly and ignorantly wander in way over my head.”

Professor Means didn’t accomplish what he meant to - he didn’t stop Klavier from investigating. He didn’t stop Klavier from helping to put him behind bars. But if he also meant to hurt him for daring to stick his nose where he didn’t belong, taunt him the way he taunted Athena, he succeeded. He still broke something in him. Maybe he’d done that as soon as he killed Courte.

Klavier works his jaw, a scowl etched deep into his face and brow. “Or is that somehow different?” Apollo asks. Another of Klavier’s particular and almost superstitious - if usually excusable - hangups about the fae? “Like—”

“Shut up!”

Apollo recoils, hitting his back against the stage witness stand. Even Klavier looks for a moment shocked at his outburst, but if it wasn’t what he meant to say he doesn’t apologize or backtrack. “You aren’t - of course it is different!” he snarls. “You had a chance to get out before worse happened, is why I told you! But this - listen to me, Herr Forehead - in everything I have ever been through, I have not heard even a whisper of a way to break a curse.”

-

Athena drives him home. 

She’s wise enough not to ask specifics, and so for that matter is Trucy. “How’s Prosecutor Gavin?” is all she says when it’s the three of them in her car, Apollo relegated to the backseat because Trucy called shotgun and he has to respect her authority as the most senior member of the Wright Anything Agency.

“Not good,” Apollo says, and Athena frowns into the rearview, and Trucy turns and peers over the back of her seat, and that’s all there is on that topic. Out the window, Apollo watches the lights of the city blur by, rewinds the conversation in his head to play back every question that he shouldn’t have asked that led to what can’t have been the inevitable outcome. This could have gone any way if it weren’t for stupid Apollo, treating everything like a cross-examination to gather as much information as possible, no matter how the witness being questioned feels about those questions. 

Surprise of the century, that it isn’t a great way to deal with upset acquaintances. 

He stands in the lobby of his apartment building, phone in hand, finger hovering over the name in his contacts list. He already sent a text to Klavier - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed - and he wants to say more but he doesn’t know what and he’s trying not to shove his own foot deeper down his throat. Either he’ll figure it out himself, or he’ll swallow his pride and relay to Clay the gist of what happened to ask for advice.

(Klavier more-or-less stormed off while Apollo was still reeling, disappearing into the darkness and leaving Apollo to think that he should chase him down, not let him go off on his own in this state, but Apollo’s already made everything so much worse. He stood there on the stage alone, waiting while knowing that Klavier wasn’t going to come back, until Vongole loped up out of the dark up to him. She stood there with her shoulders hunched up and her head low, ears pressed back, like someone just kicked her. Her eyes as empty red as they are, she can’t do the puppy-dog eyes look, but Apollo would have sworn that was what she was going for, and he had no idea what she wanted or what he was supposed to do. After a few moments of that, she had seemed to shrink even further before his eyes and she turned, head drooping even lower, and slunk away. If she showed up trying to make Apollo feeling guiltier, than she damn well succeeded.) 

And then there’s the other problem of the night.

Heart pounding shallowly in his throat, he presses his thumb to the screen and lifts his phone to his ear.

“Hello? Apollo?” Phoenix sounds - confused. Apollo wonders if Trucy told him the very little that Apollo told her. If maybe he’s guessed why Klavier is not doing well. “What’s up?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” Apollo says. His heart is in his mouth now, too big and choking him. “In person, preferably.” So that he won’t try to lie. So that if he does, he can’t get away with it. 

“I was planning to head into the office tomorrow morning to put together some stuff. Swing by sometime before noon and we’ll talk, all right?” 

He doesn’t ask what it is that Apollo needs to talk about. Does he think he knows? Or, well, he probably does know. Or he doesn’t really care enough to ask in advance. 

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

His hands are shaking when he hangs up. He isn’t quite sure why - he’s asked questions of Phoenix about the fae before. He’s broached these topics before, confronted Phoenix about information he’s hidden before. This is just that, again. Same old, same old: Apollo drags every new fact about the fae out of Phoenix with more difficulty than he drags confessions out of murderers. 

But if anyone knows the fae better than Klavier, if anyone could ever know a way to break a curse - it’s Phoenix. 

[unidentified-flying-sparrow]

I still love Harry Potter - but not JKR

Warning: This gets wordy. I really just rambled and let my thoughts take me where they will. And these are only my personal rambles - they aren’t meant to be a deep political statement or super eloquent or anything. They’ll be messy and meandering and mainly for my own benefit.  I just...needed to think. And remember. And feel.  You have been warned.

JKR has been in the news a lot lately. And not in a good way. To put it bluntly, she’s basically revealed herself as a TERF and is rightly being called out.  It hurts, because Harry Potter made a large impact on my life. But the author has shown herself to be flawed and I had put her on a pedestal for years of my life. I admired her “rags-to-riches” (sorta) story. Her success. Her talent with writing. I wanted to be her in some ways. She was living my life’s dream!

And now she is making hurtful remarks about a marginalized group of people who have done nothing except demand equality and recognition.

I first heard about the books through my mom. She was a substitute teacher at the time, and in the class she was covering, the teacher had just started reading The Sorceror’s Stone. Mom went out and got a copy, read it, and loaned it to me. She also griped about how no one knew how to pronounce the name “Hermione” - the kids she was reading to kept ‘correcting’ her with ‘Hermy-own-knee” as the pronunciation. It drove her nuts. I remember bragging to my friends when I figured out what the Mirror of Erised actually said. I was in junior high - eighth grade. I was reading a kids’ book that wasn’t hugely popular yet, and trying to lure people in.  I remember seeing more and more people I knew picking up the books. In high school, when we had free days in band (aka the teacher was sick and the sub didn’t know music), my friends and I would talk Harry Potter.  I was giddy when I got my own copies - hardback copies - of the first three books by saving my money and shopping the second-hand bookstores. It’s not that my parents wouldn’t have gotten them for me, but I wanted to buy them for myself. My original, paperback copy of Sorceror’s Stone was battered and tattered and well-loved.  Mom kept loaning out our copies to people. Sometimes, they didn’t come back. In that, it was like when she would loan out copies of The Lord of The Rings when I was a kid (which is why there are probably 4 or 5 copies of that in my parents’ house today). She knew the books were special. I put up Harry Potter posters. I glommed onto Hermione as a favorite character - a bookish girl who could still stand up for herself and have great friends? It was everything I had wanted for myself when I was eleven and struggled hard to have. So I adored her. And I shipped Harry/Hermione. Still do, but now days, I prefer just having an OT3 of the Golden Trio and an OT3 of the Silver Trio (or Sub Trio or whatever name the fandom uses now).  I sometimes had trouble sleeping and would pop the audiobook of Sorceror’s Stone into my cassette player on those nights. It helped me relax. When the first film came out, my parents and I were there to see it. I was amazed. I remember griping about minor tweaks, like Harry’s eyes (until I read about the contacts issues). Oh, what little I knew of how the books and films would splinter more. But still be fun. Goblet of Fire the book was released 4 days before my 15th birthday. I made the mistake of telling my parents I could hold off on reading my copy until then. After I saw my mom sobbing -for reasons she couldn’t tell me - at the end of the book...I never made that particular error again. When Order of the Phoenix came out, we went to the Barnes and Noble midnight release to get our pre-ordered copies. During the long wait, a guy wandered up and down selling Little Caesar's pizzas. Another guy had visited Wal-Mart, purchased every copy of the book they had, and was selling them for only a couple of bucks over what he’d paid to anyone in line who was desperate for an extra copy. My parents bought one and I spent the rest of the waiting period crouched under a parking lot light, reading, until my parents got the copies we’d actually come for.  I lost sleep reading all of the books as they came out. I was always done within a few days, at most. I just couldn’t put them down. I got T-shirts. Bought dolls/pillows/bedding. Got myself a T-shirt, a poster, and Quidditch Through The Ages and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them when I visited the UK in high school. I saw the latter films at midnight releases with my friends. Half-Blood Prince the book came out during my first summer as a camp counselor. Almost all of us - camper and staff alike - were reading it or talking about it. Spoilers were forbidden but there would still be hushed conversations during bedtime hours or “me-time” after lunch (rest period).  Deathly Hallows - both book and film - came out after my mother passed. I got my copy of the book, quietly, at a Kroger at midnight. 

Harry Potter got me heavily into fandom. I was there for The Draco Trilogy and Pawn to Queen. My Immortal and The Shoebox Project. Squickfics that made it onto GodAwfulFanfiction and its successor, Why God Why. LiveJournal communities. Fandom wank. And so much more. Reading updates on MuggleNet and The Leaky Cauldron and watching fanvids. Listening to music uploaded from Draco and the Malfoy and other fanbands. Roleplaying communities that were being hosted on Proboards message boards. Countless Sorting quizzes.  I made sure to visit Universal Studios on my honeymoon with @lechevaliermalfet​ and want to go back one day, as only Hogsmeade existed when we went. I also remember how grumpy I was that @lechevaliermalfet​ had resisted my urging to read the books - he read them after they were recommended by an unlikely source. In hindsight, it makes sense. I was a solid fan. The person who recommended the books was not. I celebrated the release of Cursed Child with my family at a day-long celebration in Naperville, IL. I have a T-shirt to commemorate it, and a wand that I made with the help of my niece.  Just this year, @lechevaliermalfet​ and I did a date night - dinner and the first Potter movie on the big screen.

I’m rambling, I know, but the point is, Harry Potter got me involved. I made online friends and honed writing skills by writing fanfiction. I learned to have a thicker skin because of some of the feedback I got. I made at least one fanvid (I’m reasonably certain it’s been lost to the ether and good riddance). Sure, I participated in other fandoms (especially Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew and Witch Hunter Robin). But this was a fandom I shared with more of my family and friends than any other. And I could even - and did - read it to kids I babysat. Now, I know Harry Potter isn’t perfect. Lord knows, Cursed Child reads like a bad fanfiction, and I have seen those ideas executed in ways that fired up my imagination and emotions more effectively. Repeatedly. Then there’s the issue of worldbuilding. The not-so-great aspects/implications of much of what has come out of Pottermore aside, Harry Potter’s wizarding world has always been a shaky society. Others have touched on this far more eloquently, so I’ll just say that it was interesting that we only had a few token “good” Slytherins - who were still shown to have ambition that overruled their better judgement at times.

I always saw the films as a different interpretation of the same story, so I wouldn’t go nuts over the stuff that was altered, so that stays. They have flaws of their own. Sometimes they exacerbate what is in the books - sometimes not.

I can’t speak to the more recent Fantastic Beasts stuff as I haven’t gotten involved. Maybe eventually. But I never realized that the poor representation in JKR’s world might reflect her worldview more wholly. I honestly figured it was a more innocent ignorance or reluctance to risk upsetting the market at the time. But the more she tweets and posts...the more obvious it is that no, she just really is that biased.  I guess, at this point, I’m going to have to follow the Death of the Author route. I used to live for the engagement Rowling had with fans, and the tidbits she’d dole out. Now, I cringe every time I see one.   For the books themselves, I think I’m going to have to take the Death of the Author approach from now on. Because JKR cannot take away the positive things Harry Potter gave me and other fans. I won’t let her. And I am grateful that there are Potter cast members stepping up to denounce her. I love Harry Potter. JKR can go jump in a lake. 

[bthenoise]

Prom Stories: Here’s 14 Tales Of The Dance Floor From Some Of Your Favorite Bands

With this year’s prom most likely cancelled for all high schoolers across the nation (super sad, we know), we didn’t want to leave you in dark for what can be a pretty memorable night -- both good and bad.

So, in an attempt to help you both experience prom and also realize that missing it might not be the end of the world after all, we’ve collected some pretty interesting stories from some of your favorite bands.  

To check out how members of This Wild Life, Grayscale, Beach Bunny, Broadside and more spent their "My Chemical Slow Dance,” be sure to see below. Afterward, make sure to enjoy our prom-inspired playlist here. 

Kevin Jordan - This Wild Life

I was too nervous to ask a girl to prom so instead I made a huge banner and hung it on the side of the tallest building at our school that said, “Ashley Debry, Prom? - Kevin Jordan.” She was the cheerleader captain and proceeded to break her shoulder and arm tumbling or some shit but she was a good sport and attended in a lace-adorned sling. It went better than my buddy Kris though, his Ford Falcon’s hood flew up on the freeway on the way there and he couldn’t see the road. Had to pull over and [his date] asked to go home.

Lili Trifilio - Beach Bunny

I went to prom like five times because I was obsessed with school dances but nothing beats the time my date ditched me, made me buy him Chipotle, then tried to hang out again later. This guy was different from the rest of my prom dates because I was secretly in love with him. He accepted my invite but then “forgot” to pick me up so my dad had to bring me to the photo portion, which was super embarrassing and a bad start to the night. Then, when the slow song came on at the dance, I was like “Yes, this is my shot!” When he approached me, I assumed he was going to ask me to dance. Instead he told me he was gonna leave with this other girl and left me in complete shock. Luckily, one of my guy friends saw me crying and asked me to dance so that I wouldn’t be a complete mess. Then, this boy has the audacity to text me in the morning asking me to see his new motorcycle?! Keep in mind, we were all in the same friend group and hung out every weekend but after that night I never talked to him again -- at the time, I didn’t know this, but he sure as hell didn’t deserve me and I definitely dodged a bullet.

Nick Ventimiglia - Grayscale 

To be honest, none of us in Grayscale ever went to prom. BUT I did go to a few homecomings. I actually won homecoming prince in 10th grade and then homecoming king my senior year. Here’s the catch: I went to private school and there was only like 36 kids in my graduating class, so what can you do? One time that actually sticks out was when I went to my girlfriend’s (at the time) snow-coming, which is essentially a winter version of homecoming. She actually won queen for her class and they didn’t end up nominating anyone for king of her grade, so by default, I won king of her class. I didn’t even go to her school. I was just on stage, with a sash, standing there smiling and it rocked. Come to find out, they cut me out of the yearbook because I didn’t go to the school, so I have no hard evidence. Here are some songs from 2007 that we most likely danced our asses off to while we were buzzing off trash Burnetts Vodka: T.I. - “You Know What It Is” Soulja Boy - “Crank That” Bird Man, Lil Wayne - “Pop Bottles” Fabolous, T-Pain - “Baby Don’t Go” 50 Cent, Justin Timberlake, Timbaland - “Ayo Technology” Unk, OutKast, Jim Jones - “Walk It Out” Shop Boyz - “Party Like A Rock Star” DJ Khaled, Akon, T.I. - “We Takin’ Over” Kanye West - “Good Life” Playa Circle, Lil Wayne - “Duffle Bag Boy”

Broadside

Ollie Baxxter

My prom coincided with my first real breakup. One week before we were meant to go together my date/girlfriend bailed. I was working two jobs at the time and already rented my tux so I just decided to go with my group of friends as the “solo heartbroken guy at prom.” When I got to the dance, the music was terrible and either my loneliness consumed me or I was just a horny teenager but all my classmates looked beautiful. Eventually my ex showed up with a mutual friend and my friend group tried their best to keep me distracted but eventually we met face to face in a hallway on the way to the bathroom. She went to say something and I think I just tried my best to hold back the shame and tears. I left the prom and spent the rest of the night skating with my friends in a parking lot somewhere. Being young is hard. 

Jeff Nichols

I only went to prom one year when I was in high school. I was a sophomore and my girlfriend at the time was a junior. I wore a tux with an all-white jacket and my date wore an all-white dress to match. I don’t remember too much since it’s been awhile but I remember it was like an “Under the Sea” type theme, which a lot of us thought was lame but we all still felt like we had to go. We danced some but all ended up leaving early to go bowling then hit Waffle House after. I only went to prom once and I don’t really regret missing the other years. During this time of quarantine, it is sad that a lot of kids don’t get the experience their prom due to closures but if you spend a bunch of money renting an outfit then take a bunch of awkward photos and dance to “Cupid Shuffle” or whatever the equivalent would be now, you pretty much got the main experience of prom. 

Dom Reid

My prom night was lackluster, to say the least. I think the new Alice In Wonderland movie had recently come out so that was our “theme” for decorations and what that turned out to be was like a large poster a student had made outside in the hall and then absolutely no decorations inside. I was one of those kids who dated a girl from a different school so it was nice to finally prove she was real. The dance floor was ruled by Lady Gaga and The Black Eyed Peas but someone did manage to get 30 seconds of “Downfall Of Us All” by A Day To Remember played. My date and I left early, grabbed some sushi on the way home. My life truthfully would be the same if I never went to prom. I do feel bad for the kids who don’t at least have the option to go to theirs this year, but I’m sure after a night of recreating TikTok dances in their bedroom, they will be just as fulfilled. 

Pat Diaz

I went to prom my junior and senior years, both with the same girl. From what I can remember (because my memory is horrendous, not because I was on the juice), it wasn’t all that fun. Senior year, I was basically stuck in a relationship (for reasons I won’t discuss) and really didn’t want to be there. The highlight of my night was getting breakfast at Perkins at 3:30am. Society puts so much unnecessary significance on prom for no reason other than “if you wanna be cool and fit in.” Sure, you’ll be bummed it’s not happening but I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine knowing that you’re not missing much. If you really want the “prom experience”, drink an energy drink, put on some music and start dancing in your room until 2am then go get McDonalds or something. Same same.

The Wrecks

Nick Anderson 

I showed up to prom pictures late because I was playing a show with my high school cover band. I wore my white prom tux on stage during the performance because I literally didn't have time to get changed before racing over to where the pictures were being taken. My date was very unhappy but the disappointment did not end there. Because of the rush, I didn't have time to eat dinner. So on the way to prom, I made my prom date pull her 2005 Volkswagen Beetle through the Burger King drive-thru so I could enjoy a Double STACKER KING with extra bacon. She stood outside of prom for 15 minutes while I ate fast food off the hood of her car. We didn't hang out much after prom. 

Aaron Kelley 

Nothing classier than a tuxedo t-shirt, black skinny jeans and a DeLorean. I’m sorry for everyone who missed their prom this year but I promise you there’ll be many more opportunities for you to have a tuxedo t-shirt night. <3 

Jade Castello - Picturesque

It’s been a year or two since I was in high school but I went to a couple different proms throughout my high school years with my previous girlfriend(s). If my memory serves me correctly, the radio hits at the time were artists such as Jason Derulo and Panic! at the Disco. I might not have won prom king but I did close out the night of my senior prom with a dance-off competition by busting out a backflip to “Let’s Go” by Trick Daddy. Everyone jumping up and down chanting my name was something straight out of a movie ha. Prom was a great experience but missing out on that night isn’t the end of the world. Once we’ve all moved on from high school, you’ll realize that one night doesn’t define your “high school experience.” You have much more to offer this world than how sick you were back in high school.

Nick Zawisa - Breakup Shoes

Senior prom… what a trip. The year was 2014: I was wearing a three-piece suit in like 95 degree weather (cuz, you know, Arizona) driving my Hyundai into downtown Phoenix with one of my best friends (still to this day!)… and I’ve gotta say, that’s about all I remember. I had always thought prom would be this extraordinary experience like how it’s romanticized in the movies but it turned out to just be an awkward ballroom packed with sweaty people I don't even like trying to dance in heels or suits to the all-time worst playlist of 2010s pop music. All that to say, my feelings on the night could be summed up into “Prom: an experience to forget.”

Dead Lakes

Cody Hurd

For me, prom was pretty overrated. I was voted prom king, but to be fair, our class only had like 70 people in it voting. I had to awkwardly go on stage and accept my royalty with people I didn't really know because my date was unfortunately not voted prom queen. The rest of the prom I basically spent sitting at a table waiting to just hang out with my friends afterwards. So [if you’re missing prom this year], just spend a night dressing up and FaceTime with your friends. Have some “non-alcoholic” drinks (responsibly of course) and blast some music and dance your hearts out. You won't miss a thing.

Chon Adam

Man, I haven’t thought about prom since basically when it happened. We had our prom at the Space Needle in Seattle with Drake playin’ in the background. Half the people were way too into prom and the other half didn’t care at all. I was definitely in the latter category, so I didn’t have a great time. But most people don’t go to prom to have fun at prom. They go to kick it at parties afterward. Definitely not something that even remotely defined that year for me. So if you’re missing it this year, I promise you you’ll be alright!

House & Home

Joey went to prom and ended up talking to the teachers more than the students. The best part was for sure watching the wrestling coach absolutely lose it to a Vanilla Ice song. Pat went his junior year and decided to sit out his senior year. The best prom related memory from his high school career was when he played the afterparty with his high school band at Dave and Buster’s. Prom was never really anything any of us really looked forward to or made a big deal of much in high school. It’s always fun to look back at the memories, though.

[storiesforreaders]

Yellow Is You

Written by Ryiana Guerrero

In Pleasant Valley High, Rachel Flores was standing behind the thick yellow curtains, examining the chattered audience from the top to bottom row. Her glistening eyes stared at the incoming people from the lobby entrance, her beating heart nearly triggered her full stomach, her fidgeting fingers shook the curtains subconsciously. Rachel was excited for her first performance of Acid Girls as the understudy of Miss Winkle, the leading activist of New York Consumer’s League. But she wasn’t intrigued when she realized that practically everyone in town will be watching her.

When she was in the third grade, the Jolly Hill Elementary School hosted their fifth annual spelling bee, and Rachel happened to be in the final three. Students, school faculties, parents, brothers, sisters, and relatives would watch her tap the microphone, clear her dry throat, and stare at the judge who happened to be Mr. Anderson, her dazzling third-grade teacher who was a surprising mix of Ryan Phillippe and River Phoenix. Nine-year-old Rachel and the other kids in her age would fancy him, but everyone, except for Mr. Anderson, knew her silly crush.

“Rachel Flores,” Mr. Anderson’s Scottish accent waved in her eardrums, “your word is...admiration.” The quiet gasps came from third-graders who sat in the crowd, making the adults hush them. Rachel couldn’t help but noticed two things: the non-audible whispers from her classmates, and her teacher’s mesmerizing face. Her little heart melted, and it felt heavier and heavier every second.

“Ms. Flores,” Mr. Anderson echoed, “can you please repeat and spell the word”

“R-right,” Rachel adjusted the microphone in front of her, “Admiration...A...D…”

She would proceed until her classmates created heart-shapes or used their puppet hands to kiss each other. No teacher or parent dared to shut them up. “...M...I...R...A...T...I...O-”

“RACHEL AND MR. ANDERSON SITTING IN THE TREE!” A red-headed third-grader sang powerfully that it echoed in the hybrid room of the cafeteria and auditorium. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” The entire classmate finished the sentence and repeated the words over and over again. When Mr. Anderson realized what his students were saying and looked at Rachel’s terrified face, she ran off the stage and cried in the girl’s restroom where no one can see her. Anyone would say it wouldn’t be a big deal for a nine-year-old and she will laugh about it in the future. But that moment was the most embarrassing and most mortifying day of her life.

Over time, she’d let her close Drama friends watch her act or sing in front of them, and when it comes to relationships and crushes, boys would stay away from her and keep on reminding her about her terrible teacher crush.

She stepped away from the horrifying crowd, holding back tears. The cautious actress was startled when someone’s chest bumped into her back. It was Levi Madeles, her Drama club friend for over a year, and Acid Girls’ Dr. Flick and the Court Judge.

“Levi,” Rachel snickered weakly, “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry,” he smirked shyly, “I told you not to peak! Come on; everyone’s waiting for you! We’re doing warm-ups.” Rachel wouldn’t admit her secret feelings for Levi. After she retold the traumatic story, her mind scattered with unanswered questions. Ever since he walked into the Drama club for the very first time, Rachel’s heart softened, and billions of butterflies flapped their wings inside her stomach. He looked as if Emery Kelly and Noah Centineo had a love child. His almond brown eyes and black curls caught her attention with the same forbidden feeling as Mr. Anderson.

“I need another moment.”

“We don’t have time. We’re on in ten minutes!”

“I think I should leave. I can’t do this.”

Levi’s face faded from serious to concern, “Rach, yes you can! I believe in you. You’re still thinking about-”

“YES,” her tears began to drop, “No matter how hard I tried to forget about that awful memory, it keeps on replaying in my head! Out of nowhere! I have constant nightmares about it. I hate being the laughing stock for having a stupid crush on a stupid teacher! I’m just a big joke to everyone!” Levi embraced Rachel once she fell on the floor with her wet face and red eyes. His rapid heart leaned against hers. He held her tightly like a husband hugged his wife after a heated argument.

“You’re not a big joke,” Levi wiped her waterfall eyes, “at least, to me. If everyone made fun of you because of the past, fuck those people. They’re childish...and you’re the bravest person I ever know. Again, I believe in you. You rehearse and rehearse for this role for weeks. Be glad that Lucy couldn’t make it tonight for her performance. She gave you this opportunity so you can prove them wrong. You’re not Rachel if you don’t prove everyone wrong.”

Rachel slowly caught her breath before turning her frown upside down, and tilted her face to admire the care and beauty of Levi’s face, “What did I do to deserve you?”

His sweaty palm grabbed her warm hand, “I know you more than anyone else.”

Rachel’s cue was up after ten scenes of Acid Girls; her emotional state was stable after what happened between her and Levi. The stage lights were off, meaning that there’s a transition from Scene Ten to Scene Eleven. The actors adjusted the table in the middle of the stage, moved the chair to aside, and stayed in their cue positions. Rachel stood behind the desk, took two huge breaths, and began to say her lines once the lights were on.

“...And so I leave you now with this one thought,” she articulated talking to the extras, “Ladies and gentlemen: We do not have to accept injustice! We can use our powers as consumers to influence the practices of those who would wish to profit from our patronage. Thank you.”

As the show continues until the end of the play, Rachel felt nothing, but confidence and gratitude. The terrifying flashbacks will always be remembered and hidden in the back of her mind. No one ever gave her courage and the need for love and support before. She was grateful that Levi is the first person who made her the person she is today.

After the Acid Girls actors bowed for their astonishing performances; they went backstage, changed back into their regular clothes, and called it a night to remember. The night wasn’t over for Rachel when she walked backstage and found a glorious bouquet of yellow roses with a written letter entitled R. F. in cursive handwriting. She sliced the envelope with her sharp index finger, picked up the printed paper, and opened the folded parchment. 

Beauty is bold; Yellow is You. I love yellow, what about you?

“I guess you have a secret admirer?” Rachel turned around and noticed Levi leaning against the door frame. Her cheeks flushed when she saw his cute face. Levi smiled widely as her face turned pink.

“Whoever it is, why can’t this person say it to my face?”

“Because...that person is afraid that you wouldn’t feel the same way.

They exchanged bright smiles. “I love yellow too.”

*Share with credit please. This is my first original short story, and was written in 2018 when I had creative writing as an elective cource in High School.

[eldritchsurveys]

428.

Do you get excited when you learn you have to dress up? >> I guess, yeah. I wear pretty much the same few things all the time, so it’s refreshing to be able to wear something different. But it can also be stressful because of, you know, dysphoria and shit. What brand of hair spray do you use? >> --- Do you like it when guys wear hats? >> I really have no opinion. Burger King, McDonalds or Wendys? >> I usually go for McDonald’s because their cheeseburgers are the neatest of the three, and they only put mustard and pickles on them. The Wendy’s restaurants around here make the sloppiest cheeseburgers, just too much mayo and ketchup everywhere, and the Burger Kings are just not as good either. Would you rather visit California or Flordia? >> It’s a real tossup. I think there’s something incredibly surreal about Florida as a whole and I really want to find out if that’s true, but I also think California could be fun to visit.

What’s your ideal first date? >> --- If you type for awhile, do your fingers start to hurt? >> Not at all. I guess because I’ve been typing since I was a child, so my fingers regard it as a natural thing to do (as opposed to a stressful thing). What do you smell right now? >> Pizza, because I haven’t put the pizza box in the fridge yet. Chinese or mexican food? >> Mexican. Can you play the drums? >> No. Are you the type of person who would study for a test for hours? >> I really am not. I have no patience or diligence for that kind of thing. All this Air in my chart really fucked me over when it comes to that, lmao. Are you a lazy person? >> No. I’m a person who sometimes has poor executive function, and a person who sometimes struggles to internalise the importance of doing certain unsavoury or boring things, and a person who has sensory difficulties that sometimes border on the neurotic. People who regard those facts as excuses will definitely try to label me “lazy”, but I refuse to insult myself because of the way I’m wired. I do my best with what I have. If you were an animal, what animal would you be? >> I mean, the canon answer is “a spider”. If you were an instrument, what would you be? >> A pipe organ. Do you hate when you’re in a good mood and one person ruins your mood? >> I don’t think of things like that. No one’s responsible for maintaining my mood but me. If I let someone else “ruin” my good mood, then that’s my problem. Are there any movies coming out that you’d like to see? >> I’m probably going to go see that Joker movie when it comes out. Because I’m in love with Joaquin Phoenix, or whatever. Shut up. Where do you buy your underwear? >> Whatever big-box store happens to have it in stock. Do you watch the show Switched at Birth? >> No. Do you hate the usual 100 questions surveys? EX: Eye color >> Sometimes. What’s worse: Rude people, two-faced people or fake people? >> I have a harder time dealing with someone who is being insincere than I do someone who is just rude.  Does your house have a doorbell? >> There’s a buzzer for this apartment. Do you know someone who has dropped out of high school? >> I used to. I don’t think anyone I currently know is a high school dropout. Can you juggle? >> No. Do you think you could run 3 miles right now? >> I can’t run 500 feet, dude. What color was the shirt you wore today before changing? >> I just wore a black undershirt, like usual. Does it freak you out when random people wave to you in public? >> I mean, that... doesn’t happen. Can you do the dougie? >> No. If you were to get a pet turtle right now, what would you name it? >> --- What’s your most hated commercial to watch? >> All of them, really. Can you do a handstand? >> No. What was the last thing you charged? >> My phone. Google Play Services had some kind of update within the last month that made it a complete and absolute battery hog, so now my phone constantly needs to be charged. I hope they fix it soon. Without looking, what time do you think it is? >> Quarter to seven. *looks* Oh, actually it’s quarter after seven. I tried. Favorite album? >> --- How many people named Josh do you know? >> No one, now. When you were younger, did you believe you could fly? >> No. Favorite farm animal? >> --- Have you ever been to a spa? >> Yeah. Has your Facebook ever been hacked? >> No. On a scale 1-10 how relaxed are you right now? >> I don’t know. I’m relaxed enough. Do you spell gray with an A or an E? >> An E, unless I’m talking about Dorian. What’s your favorite name that begins with B? >> --- How many of your friends on here are online? >> I don’t know. If your son said he was gay, how would you react? >> I literally don’t care what sexuality someone is, and anyone raised anywhere in my vicinity would know that. Apple cider or hot chocolate? >> Apple cider, 100%. If someone payed you $500 would you take a bath in milk? >> I doubt it. How many people have ever said you’re perfect? >> I don’t know, I wouldn’t remember shit like that because it’s so unrealistic that I assume it means nothing. Twitter, Tumblr or Facebook? >> Tumblr is the only site of the three that I still use. Do you enjoy having time to yourself? >> Absolutely. Can you do a cart wheel? >> Yeah. How many apps do you have on your phone/iPod? >> Way too fucking many, because there are a lot of baked-in apps that I just can’t delete. :| Do you like Ed Sheeran? >> No. Can you do ballet? >> No. When you were a teenager, did you used to say “I hate this house!”? >> I don’t recall ever saying that. Would you rather become an author or teacher? >> An author. Are you ever jealous of your best friend? >> --- How many people are you currently texting? >> Zero. Anything exciting coming up? >> Not in the very near future. What numbers does your password on here have? >> --- This time tomorrow, what will you be doing? >> I should be at Cafe Boba. Would you rather get money or gift cards for your birthday? >> Either is fine. Have you ever been inside a recording studio? >> Yeah. Would you rather visit Mars or Neptune? >> Er... I mean, whichever one is most feasible to visit, which I assume would be Mars. I don’t think we even know how to make suits to withstand the environmental conditions of a planet that far away from the Sun... (do we?) Do you have Instagram? >> No. Does it bother you when people keep talking to you and you want to leave? >> Yeah, but nine times out of ten I just... make my exit. Have you ever texted a landline phone by accident? >> No. Does that even work? Have you ever spoken to a detective before? >> No. Do you like quotes about love or life better? >> Er... Do you have any quotes on your bedroom walls? >> No. What color is your garage? >> I don’t know, actually. I don’t think it’s painted on the inside. Have you ever played laser tag? >> No. Have you ever been to Cedar Point? >> No. How are your grades this year? >> --- Do you think you have a good singing voice? >> Sure. Do you like it when people give you compliments? >> I mean, sure. But it’s not necessary or anything. Do you crack under pressure? >> Not usually. Was your hair straight today? >> It never is. Do you believe in ghosts? >> No. Do you ever share things on Facebook? >> --- Do you pick out your outfits for the next day the night before or the AM? >> Considering how compact my wardrobe is, it’s really not difficult for me to just grab some clothes in the moment. I don’t have to plan my outfits or anything. Do you wear earrings? >> Yeah. Do you think Hershey chocolate is the best? >> No. What do you have first period? >> --- Do people depend on you too much? >> No. Have you ever been in love? >> Jury’s still out on that. I’m going to go with “probably not”. Do you hate being sad? >> Yeah, it’s not great. I get impatient with myself when I’m sad. But on the flip side, I get to be coddled by Can Calah for a while, so it’s not all bad. Is anyone you’re close to in the hospital right now? >> No. Do you have any cuts on you right now? >> No. Do you like Steve Carell? >> I have no opinion on him. Is your wifi protected? >> Yeah. What did you have for lunch today? >> I only had two meals today. How often do people write on your Facebook wall? >> --- Does your phone have a cover on it? >> Yeah, just a black rubber case. What color was your swim suit this year? >> --- How many bedroom does your house have? >> Two. Would you go swimming if it was 65 degrees out? >> I don’t go swimming, period. Favorite flavor of popsicle? >> --- Do ladders scare you? >> Not usually. Would you ever lie about your past? >> I can’t imagine why I would want to, but who knows. Hot dogs or hamburgers? >> Hamburgers. Do you have any pictures of you and your friends in your bedroom? >> No. 

[moviegroovies]

oh god after last time i really did think i was done but i must have unlocked some new level of hell because here we go, here we go, lost boys hcs PART 3!!!!

so ummmmm michael... is sort of dumb. 

like, ok, specifically??? i think he’s got a higher than average emotional intelligence, but he’s just one of those kids who’s bad at school. there’s some hints of this in the movie: when michael is telling sam that he can’t tell lucy about the vampirism thing, sam’s line is that it’s “not like getting a D in school, mike!”, implying that hiding that kind of thing is something the two of them have been over before, and a deleted subplot has him repeatedly insisting to lucy that he’s going to drop out of school to get a job and help her pay for things.

tbh i think he’s got that classic “child of divorce” thing going on. he feels like a burden on sparse resources and can’t stand the thought of wasting his days in school, where he doesn’t even want to be. he wants to help his mom! he gets a job for he so he can do that! what a good, sweet boy!!!

hmmm. dyslexic michael, anyone? like, i was going to say that he was particularly vexed by math & science, but the more i think about it, the more i’m leaning toward him maybe just being disinterested in those subjects, even though they’re the ones he’s better at, while english and history (but particularly english) really piss him off because studying takes so goddamn long.

so he gets like, C+/B- in math and science, consistent C- in history, and wavers C- to D+ or even lower in english. 

he’s so polite to his teachers that they help him when they can though, especially because they know he’s trying so hard, but he’s just not entirely gifted at this sort of stuff. 

the worst is when he has to keep his grades up to stay eligible for sports--that pressure just makes everything seem so much worse.

i think michael plays some of everything. he’s like, some kind of guard on the football team, not particularly their star player or anything, but i think he’s also got a starter position on the basketball team, and he is the star pitcher on the baseball team. 

physical stuff just comes easier to him than academic stuff, you know?

his high school girlfriend was a cheerleader, but they weren’t that serious. she was a kind of preppy girl, a little vapid, and it felt to michael like they only really dated because they were supposed to. breaking up with her kind of led to michael’s attraction to star; he saw her on the boardwalk and she looked like she dressed for herself and she was outwardly enjoying her time at the concert--plus, you know, she’s really pretty.

he hates to admit it, but michael’s favorite classes in school were the home ec classes that his guidance counselor suggested he take. he took shop first, which was okay, but really, what he liked to do the most was the cooking and sewing shit. when he joins the lost boys, he kind of “takes over” these roles from star (who had been pressured into acting the mother for all these assholes who could be her great grandfathers, easily), and it turns out that he’s a lot better at that stuff than she is. 

guess he was always kind of training to be david’s bitch after all.

the guys stop ribbing on him once he shows them how he can fix their clothes and shit, though. goddamn assholes.

michael’s main circle of friends in highschool was made up of other jocks, and like with his girlfriend, they weren’t super close. he often got excluded from stuff because he would insist he couldn’t do something or other on account of his mom needing him home that night, or he would get pissed at them for making fun of sam. 

michael said family comes first, fuckers!

he did drink and smoke and shit like that back in phoenix when he knew he wouldn’t be missed at home, though. he’s not a goody two shoes, really, he just didn’t want to make things harder than they were for his mom. 

one day he did come home drunk, and he’ll never forget how upset lucy looked. he still doesn’t feel like he’s made that up to her. ouch.

one of the guys michael hung out with, probably the closest michael had to a “best friend” was a dude named declan who he’d known since elementary school. declan as the only one of the jock guys who didn’t really hold it against him when he’d skip out on stuff, and the only one he ever even thought about telling the divorce shit to, although in the end, he chickened out of actually doing it. 

like i said, they weren’t best friends or anything, but they could have been, y’know?

one of the less nice dudes in his group (probs one michael got in fights with often) started dating michael’s girlfriend about a week after he moved. michael wasn’t really pissed by the time he found out about that; he had way bigger problems to worry about by then.

there was a guy that michael saw around who was kind of a beatnik loner outcast and almost definitely a fag. he liked shakespeare and oscar wilde and probably drew pretty things in the margins of his notebook, and the guys that michael hung out with trashed on him pretty much constantly. michael himself, however, had kind of a thing for the guy: he thought he was cool and would ask when he could to see what he was working on.

you know how michael acted around star at the very beginning of their association? that’s pretty much how he was around this dude. local bi disaster is bi.

the guy (i was going to say fuck it and name him after the guy who i’m sort of basing him on from peggy sue got married, but guess what my fucking luck is, that dude’s name is michael. jfc. let’s call him charlie) thought michael was just there to make fun of him like the others did, but he eventually, he might have come around to trusting that mike really was just interested in his art. 

maybe they made out or something before charlie eventually pushed back against him because he didn’t want to get fucking murdered by michael’s friends for making him queer if they got caught 

michael always felt like he should have pushed harder to have some sort of relationship with charlie, but once he moves to santa carla, there’s no use in thinking about it anymore.

unlike michael, sam did have a close circle of friends at school, even though he wasn’t as classically “popular” as his brother. 

it was probs this reason that made him take the move a lot harder than his brother did.

sam, also unlike michael, was/is really good at school. he’s super skilled at memorizing dates & facts (just look at him rattle off semi-obscure superman trivia lol), and pretty talented at writing to boot. he doesn’t like math as much, but if he works at it, it comes to him pretty quickly. 

gifted kid perks™

being that everything came easy to sam, and that he didn’t do any sports like michael did, he had a lot of downtime to read books and comics, keep up w/ pop culture, and hang out with his nerdy friends who liked to do the same. he was even in a d&d group

his character was an elf rogue.

it’s about gay rights

re: sports, it’s not that sam couldn’t be athletic, just that he didn’t ever really want to be. he used to do little league to be like michael and as a concession to his father, but really, he was always put in the outfield, and at the end of the day he would just rather read or watch tv than stand out in the hot sun playing this game he didn’t care about.

when they were little, michael trained himself to get better at reading so that he could read stuff to sam when their parents were fighting or their mom was away. he remembered how his parents (in better times) had read to him, and he knew it made sam feel better, so he put aside his difficulties and discomfort to read to his brother before bed.

the easiest things to read for him were comic books (he had some batmans and supermans and even a few wonder womans, although it wasn’t all superhero stuff. he also had richie rich and, of course, archies), which kind of sparked sam’s love for them--they were something he shared with his brother. <3

i’m thinking sam’s nerd club was the prototypical “mostly boys who never talked to a girl in their lives” type thing, but at the same time i’d like to imagine that at least one of them had a pretty brash (and nerdy) sister who pushed her way into the club, winning their respect by doing what sam did to frog brothers, only with star wars lore.

also, i’m kind of picturing a shy girl from their school who sam takes under his wing when she’s getting bullied, only to find out that she’s really into that stuff too.

she’s part of their d&d campaign; she plays a badass orc barbarian woman and consistently has the best luck with the dice. 

the girl is almost definitely a lesbian, but sam asks her to homecoming and stuff like that so that they’ll both have dates; they’re basically each other’s beards. 

Gay Rights.

one of the only ways michael could ever really relate to his dad was when they played baseball and the dad taught him Sports™ things, so sam not being at all interested in that stuff made him kind of a disappointment. even still (or maybe for that reason), michael was always the mama’s boy, while sam spent a long time desperate for his dad’s approval.

maybe bc michael and lucy tried really hard to protect him from just how shitty their dad really was, to be honest.

speaking of michael and sam’s dad, i’ve been doing a lot of thinking about him, and now i’ve got Opinions. 

contrary to what i guess is the general fandom consensus (at least from what i’ve seen? but my scope might not be that big regarding this character, so if i’m wrong, i’m wrong lol) regarding the dad, i can’t see him being particularly abusive physically. 

however, given how sweet and agreeable lucy is, i get a sense that there must have been something REALLY insurmountable in their relationship to make her decide that divorce was the only option. the way i see it, michael and sam’s father started as one of those anti-establishment punks who eventually grew up and just... snapped back the other way entirely to end up as the establishment himself. 

main justification for this is that scene w/ michael and star; he doesn’t just refer to his mother being an ex-hippie, he refers to his folks. plus, i mean, there must have been something about the man that endeared him to lucy, right?

so, over the course of their marriage, the guy goes from being a radical dreamer type with maybe some kind punk rock aspirations to being like.... reagan’s “moral majority.” 

he starts totally stomping down his old dreams and, in the process, mocking lucy for holding onto anything from their past (you know how she told sam part of the reason she divorced him was that “he never believed in the closet monster”? that was a symptom tbh). i imagine that this, in itself, was soul crushing, but what was really the last straw was when he started in on michael and sam: getting mad and telling michael that he wasn’t going to make it in the MLB and that he had to get his shitty grades up if he wanted to amount to anything (only making him hate school even more lbr), and openly disliking sam’s rejection of sports and stuff in favor of his comic books and MTV.

before the end, i think michael got in a lot of fights with his dad when he’d make passive-aggressive comments at sam for not being enough of a man. 

who made you the fucking authority on that, huh?

if he was ever actually physically violent with anyone, it was probably michael during these fights, or mayyyybe even lucy when she’d step in.

eventually, something just tips lucy’s goddamn scales, and she snaps and goes out right then and there to file for divorce. they never saw the point in signing a prenup or anything back then, y’know, so without really fighting for it, lucy wasn’t going to get anything in the divorce. 

she doesn’t. they leave arizona with just about the clothes on their backs.

if anyone actually fought against the divorce proceedings, honestly i think it was the dad. he had this idea of his respectable nuclear family, and, even though he was basically an emotionally neglectful POS to his sons, he hated the idea of his wallstreet suit-type coworkers coming to know that his home life was anything less than perfect. 

as a last ditch effort, he probably tried to win lucy back at the very last minute, even twisting her arm in an attempt to get her to stay for the boys’ sake, but he clearly no longer knows what attracted her to him in the first place, and the “effort” just makes her sad.

in her mind, she’s already gone by then, you know?

finally, he just ives up and signs the divorce papers. for a hot second it really fucks him up; he goes in to work unshaven and haggard, he’s back to eating like a bachelor, his heart isn’t in what he’s doing. this isn’t about grief over losing his family, though, is the shitty thing. not really. instead, he’s just dealing with uncertainty over how to remake his image. 

unfortunately, that’s about as much karma as their dad gets. by the time lucy, sam, and michael are gone for good, he finds it’s easiest to just pretend that they never happened. lucy didn’t demand it, but he sends the occasional bare bones childcare check in the mail and feels like he’s the goddamn father of the year or something, and meanwhile, he remarries a woman that’s both younger and more conservative than lucy, sooner or later fathering a son with her.

lucy isn’t cruel; she doesn’t want the boys to be totally cut off from their father, and even though they both pretty clearly sided with her in the divorce she offers him visitation rights and partial custody (saying that they could stay with him at least every summer and for whatever other holidays he wanted), but he mostly rejects this. 

when the boys try to call him to ask, he gives them a noncommittal answer about them maybe visiting next summer, after they’ve all gotten settled in. 

they pretty much stop calling after that. 

remember how i said michael has an above-average emotional intelligence? he’s definitely the one who helps lucy through the divorce the most. he picks up on the signals she sends about when she needs help and when she needs space, and chides sam for pushing her too hard every now and then.

sam, on the other hand, is definitely a good kid who cares about his mom a lot, but he’s a little more selfish and has a harder time acting like he’s got no problem leaving phoenix for her. the only real fights the two of them get into before all the vampire mess are centered around sam not being sympathetic enough to lucy and michael getting onto him for it.

i think that their dad might end up being a much better father and husband for his new family, and when the eventually visit him long enough to realize this, michael and sam... aren’t sure what to think.

like, they’re glad he’s not repeating the same mistakes he made before, but it’s not fair, is it? to see your little half-brother get the father you always wanted but never got. 

their new stepmom is a sweet lady, though. she really does want to try and welcome sam and michael into the family. sam, michael, and their dad all try, but in the end they find it uncomfortable, and the boys know it’s just a facade on all sides to make her happy. 

everyone is a little bit relieved when the boys just give up and go back to santa carla. 

when michael meets the lost boys (& subsequently learns about dwayne’s past with jasper and, you know, the total boner david has for him, and oh yeah, the fact that these guys are kind of universally gay asf), his only experience with gay shit had been his closeted fumbling with charlie and like, negative stereotypes from media, so he’s kind of amazed by these totally queer dudes who just... take no shit. 

like, he gets challenged to a motorcycle race and their leader doesn’t back down at all from the fight michael tries to incite, they take him back to drink and hang out in a semi-nasty man cave. these dudes aren’t what he expects from fags at all (they’re not sissies, and that’s kind of the end of his knowledge about the gay community at that time lol), and he just doesn’t... know what to think about them.

he kind of wants to be them.

like, you know how immediately after seeing them for the first time, michael buys himself a leather jacket and goes to get his ear pierced? there’s a reason for that, babes!

in other news, michael is a cancer and there’s nothing y’all can do about it.

i mean, i have Evidence behind my theory but also i’m just right.

but like, going back to that scene with michael and star again, when he’s introducing himself, you know how he tells her that he was nearly named moonbeam or moonchild or something like that? well, another name for cancers that i’ve seen is moonchildren, after the way cancer is ruled by the moon (and bc the term “cancer” itself has some... other connotations).

in conclusion, lucy really was That Bitch sgdfhghdh

[izumitate]

don’t linger

So, I was trying to write something sad, but jury’s out on whether it worked, haha. This one is for my favorite angst queen @audriel89 !

Content warnings: this one’s about ghosts, so there’s referenced character death.

“Hey, Kuroo. Nice hat,” Sawamura says, wearing the same beautifully wry smile as he did when he was still alive.

“Thanks, it was a gift,” Kuroo replies numbly, reaching up to grip the brim of his hideous tiger stripe cap. Yamamoto had given it to him as a present a couple of years ago, and now he wears it when he ducks out of the apartment on rainy days for a short errand and doesn’t want to carry an umbrella. It protects his head well enough, but he can still feel the light patter of rain on his shoulders. The sound of droplets rustling against the plastic bag in his hand reminds him that he only stepped out to grab a bottled milk tea and box lunch for tomorrow, because he knows he won’t have the time to stop by during his rush for the train. There weren’t supposed to be any ghosts included in this little excursion.

“It keeps your hair in check, in any case,” Sawamura says. He gestures with one pale, translucent hand at Kuroo’s forehead. It’s dark all along this road, but for the beaming lights of the konbini storefront and Sawamura, glowing like moonlight. Still as young and handsome as Kuroo remembered, just a bit more ethereal now. A bit less grounded.

“Yeah, but it makes the cowlicks worse when I take it off.” Kuroo’s voice is steady, to his surprise.

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

“A limitation of your imagination, Sa’amura-san.”

“I suppose so.”

“So,” Kuroo says, dragging out the word. “This is new! Taking a little postmortem stroll around Japan? Where have you been so far? See anything good?”

Maybe if he acts like this is normal, things will make sense again and his brain won’t shatter. Or he’ll just go insane that much faster.

Sawamura shakes his head, amused by Kuroo’s valiant attempt at nonchalance. He floats a little closer; Kuroo wants to reach out and touch him. “Not really. You were my first stop; I thought it might be fun to visit you.”

Kuroo blinks. “At two in the morning?”

“Sorry, is this an inconvenient time for you? Should we reschedule this haunting for a little later?”

Kuroo laughs at the unimpressed look Sawamura sends his way. Still so sassy, even as a ghost.

God, what are they doing here? Is this even real? Or did Kuroo trip on his way down the stairs and fall into a coma without knowing it? Is there any explanation more logical than the conclusions he’s jumping to?

“Is that what’s happening? You’re haunting me? That’s a bit unfair. What’d I ever do to you, Sawamura?”

Sawamura grins back, floating all the way over to hover by Kuroo’s side as he begins walking back to his apartment. If they’re going to have a conversation, might as well do it somewhere warm and comfortable. Kuroo doesn’t explain where they’re headed, but Sawamura doesn’t ask, content to just go along with it. Even in the past it had always felt natural to fall into step with one another. No need to waste words when they somehow knew how to read each other’s body language fluently enough to translate without thinking.

“What didn’t you do to me, is the real question. I have a whole list of complaints, Kuroo. It’s why I came so early in the morning; it’s gonna take me until at least breakfast to get through all of them.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to cook for you, too. I only have one egg.”

“And you’re not offering it to your guest? I didn’t take you for the stingy type.”

“Take pity on me,” Kuroo whines. “I’ve got tests to grade and and club activities tomorrow. I need the energy. Which reminds me, I’m also hoping you don’t expect me to stay up all night. I have to wake up in a few hours.”

“You’re so high-maintenance,” Sawamura jokes as they ascend the stairs to Kuroo’s place. “I should’ve chosen an easier target. But seriously, you can sleep first if you want. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Kuroo gets to putting his purchases away once he lets himself inside, while Sawamura peeks curiously around his not-very-interesting apartment. Sawamura seems preoccupied with the photographs on Kuroo’s wall, so Kuroo leaves him be for a moment to go change back into his pajamas.

“Are you saying you’re going to watch me sleep?” Kuroo asks while Sawamura scans his bookshelf. Sawamura turns to see Kuroo vigorously brushing his teeth, and shakes his head.

“Not unless you want me to,” he says with a laugh, and then floats over to the window. “Go to sleep, Kuroo. I’ll be back tomorrow; we’ll talk then.” His form grows thin as he passes through the glass and then Kuroo is left standing alone in his apartment with toothpaste froth on his mouth, wondering if he just had a really weird fever dream. Because, what? Just happened?

Kuroo shuffles blankly back to bed and slides under the covers. There are too many words forming into too many half-woven questions; they tumble around his brain without direction. For some time he just lies there, staring at the ceiling and the dark, until an uneasy sleep overtakes him.

--

True to his word, Sawamura is back five hours later when Kuroo is packing up his bag for the day.

“You came back,” Kuroo says as he watches Sawamura fall back into place beside him, like it’s natural to belong there. It doesn’t feel as wrong as it should. Kuroo may have grown too accepting in recent years.

“Of course I did; what kind of ghost haunts someone for just twenty minutes?”

“I did think it was kind of a letdown, but it felt rude to mention it.”

“And everyone knows that you’re never rude, right?” Sawamura teases as they walk to the train. Kuroo has headphones in – the kind that also function as a microphone, so that he at least looks like he could be talking to someone on the phone. The train is crowded this morning, so Sawamura floats up to sit atop the baggage rack, to avoid phasing through anyone. Kuroo stands facing up toward him, gripping a hand strap and pretending to look at the screen announcing the next stop, but their eyes keep catching on one another’s, and they exchange sheepish smiles.

When most of the morning crowd clears out, they move over to an empty corner so Sawamura can stop perching like a cat about to strike.

“So, are you back on unfinished business?” Kuroo asks, like they’re discussing weekend plans. He’s seated, looking up toward Sawamura, who shifts out of people’s way as if he still has solid mass. He still smiles at children and the elderly like they can see him. But sometimes Kuroo catches him watching people with a certain intensity that feels unfamiliar. Maybe being dead makes the world look a little different.

Sawamura returns his attention to Kuroo. His hand is resting against the wall as if to brace himself and Kuroo has to wonder absently about how the laws of physics apply to spirits. “Mm, I wouldn’t quite put it that way. I’m just here to hang out for the day.”

“Did- um. Did you want to see something in particular? I have work today, but we could go somewhere afterwards.”

“No, I didn’t come expecting you to provide entertainment. I just thought I’d drop in and see what you get up to these days. If that’s okay?” He looks momentarily lost, and Kuroo quickly shakes his head.

“Yeah, you know I’m always up for fun. I gotta tell you, it’ll probably be kinda boring for you, but if you don’t mind chilling out and making fun of my students, then let’s do it.”

“Let’s do it,” Sawamura echoes, with the same brightness in his eyes Kuroo remembers from across the court. Phoenix fire and marble.

Behind and through him, the world blurs green and powder blue outside the train window. It’s a beautiful day.

--

Kuroo’s homeroom class is rowdy and clever and terribly annoying this morning. It takes a while to get them settled, and by the time he leaves them for his first class, Sawamura already knows them too well.

“You knew what you were signing up for when you became a teacher, right? Was corralling your team not enough for you?” Sawamura asks during his free period. Kuroo just spent the last hour going over last week’s test and listening to a whole lot of groaning. He’s marking more exams now as he sips his milk tea; Sawamura leans against his desk and looks around at the other teachers too busy to pay mind to Kuroo basically talking to himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; Nekoma was team of pure, good-hearted angels. Now, if I’d been in your shoes, then I probably wouldn’t have wound up here.”

“Oh, you would’ve gotten a handle on them eventually. Just like you’ve got these ones under your wing. I have to say, you’re a lot better at this than I expected.”

“Thank you a million times over for your faith in me,” Kuroo says dryly. “What do you think Amagi wrote here? An eight? An ugly five?”

“Looks like a five to me,” Sawamura says. “Give her the full points.”

“You’re too soft,” Kuroo tsks, and they finish grading in this same manner for the rest of the period.

Kuroo doesn’t wonder at the fact that no one else in the school can see Sawamura. He assumes it’s because Sawamura has no ties to anyone else here, or that it’s because of some other ghost business that Kuroo doesn’t understand. Sawamura does accidentally float through another teacher at one point, and she sneezes right afterward.

They spend lunch outside, watching students milling around in little clusters. Somehow it feels easy to be together like this, despite all the oddities of the situation. Sawamura asks after all the old group, and Kuroo tells him everything he knows, though he has to apologize for not keeping up as much with all the ex-Karasuno members. Sawamura just laughs, telling him that knowing anything at all is more than he really expected.

“Do you have any good tricks?” They’re watching a crowd of kids exchanging flirtatious banter, and it makes Kuroo want to play a prank on them.

“What am I, a dog?”

“I’m just saying, ghosts usually have some fun powers. Like telekinesis.”

“Nope, I’ve got nothing.”

“Boring,” Kuroo says with a pout, and Sawamura rolls his eyes, floating backwards until he’s hanging upside next to Kuroo’s head.

“Yeah. I went to the afterlife and all I got was this lousy intangibility,” he says, and Kuroo feels suddenly guilty. Sawamura is literally dead and here Kuroo is, making a stupid joke about it.

“Shit, that was insensitive. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’ve gotten pretty used to being dead. Don’t feel too bad. C’mon, tell me which of your kids is the most likely to embarrass themself in the next five minutes.”

Kuroo gladly latches on to the change in subject. “Oh, definitely Sakurai. Watch, when he goes over to Kanda…”

The day is uneventful as far as school days go, but Sawamura never seems bored, even when he keeps relearning the same math lesson over and over. By club time he seems even livelier, floating around in amusement as Kuroo oversees the Exercise Club. The small group of students are doing stretches and jumping rope in the yard.

“Before you ask, yes, we do play volleyball sometimes. I put up a net outside when the weather is good.”

“Do you ever play?”

“Yeah, but not for long because they start complaining about uneven teams,” Kuroo says, keeping an eye on a girl chasing her friend around with her jump rope.

“Play six on two. That would even things out.”

“Too much, maybe. I’m not that fit anymore.”

“You still look pretty good to me,” Sawamura says with straight-forward honesty. Kuroo’s heart skips a beat until he follows it up with, “I mean, your face is what it is, can’t do anything about that, but the rest isn’t bad.” He gestures broadly at Kuroo’s body.

“I see you haven’t gotten any more charming since I last saw you,” Kuroo snarks back, and Sawamura laughs. He looks like he wants to bump his shoulder against Kuroo’s, but they both know it’ll just be a reminder that this can’t last.

“It’s hard enough for people to change as it is; us dead guys are totally stuck in our ways.”

--

After club wraps up, Kuroo returns to his desk to send out a few emails before calling it a day. They’re standing at the train station again, waiting to return home when Kuroo thinks to ask, “Are you sure you don’t want to go do something? Normally I just go home and crash on my couch after dinner, but it’s Friday evening, and you’re in town.”

“Are you saying you wanna go out?”

“I mean, it seems like a waste for you to come all this way just to watch dumb reality tv with me while we eat takeout. Uh- while I eat takeout.”

Sawamura shrugs. “To be honest, that plan sounds just fine to me. But maybe you’re right. I only have twenty-four hours. I should probably make them count.”

Twenty-four hours? Kuroo wasn’t aware of this.

“Is that when you have to go back? To the, uh,” he makes a sweeping motion with his arm and probably makes everyone in the vicinity want to avoid him, “the great beyond?”

“Yeah, I could only afford a one day pass,” Sawamura says like he’s joking, but Kuroo’s chest seizes painfully anyway. If he had known, he wouldn’t have kept Sawamura here, hanging around aimlessly instead of using his time for better things. Before he can get all tangled up in guilt, Sawamura puts his hands in his pockets and asks, “So what should we go do?”

Kuroo had found it a not-unwelcome change to return to the countryside once he graduated from college. The slower pace of life, the abundance of nature everywhere, the wide open spaces and quaint houses tucked among the foliage. He kept his house closer to the town center, preferring to commute over to his school, and it’s worked out well enough for him so far. The downside is most places of interest are at least a few train stops away. He thinks for a moment about where they could go on such short notice, where Sawamura might actually enjoy himself.

“We’re close to the water,” Kuroo finally offers. “It’s a little cold this time of year, but the shore is pretty nice.”

Sawamura doesn’t take more than a second to think about it. “The beach? Sure, why not. Take me to the beach.”

They have to ride into the main station before changing lines, and by the time they make it to the ocean, it’s early evening and the sun is starting its descent. There are few people around; the April weather is pleasant but growing rapidly cool now that the day is coming to a close. It leaves Kuroo space to openly talk to Sawamura without looking too strange – insofar as a man alone at a beach is ever strange.

“Do you swim?” Sawamura asks as they walk along the shoreline. His not-quite-there feet swish through the water that crashes gently against the white sand. The foam tickles at Kuroo’s bare feet, and he hops a step further from the water. It’s a touch too cool for his skin.

“Yeah, though it’s been a while. I used to go on beach trips with Kenma’s family all the time when we were kids. We’d have matching floaties,” he says with a laugh as he remembers the time Kenma got a sunburn on his shoulders and was cranky for weeks.

“I can see that. You used to splash him while he was huddling on the beach, I bet.”

“You know it. Were you a swimmer?”

“Not really, but now that I can’t do it, I feel like I miss it? That’s how it goes, I guess.”

“Well, I’ll swim twice as hard next time; you can live vicariously through me.”

Sawamura shakes his head with a smile. “Sure, you do that.”

After walking to the cliffside, Kuroo jogs back the way they came, trying to beat Sawamura back to his shoes, but ghosts can fly surprisingly fast. He collapses into the sand afterward, wheezing as Sawamura laughs at him. Since neither of them are equipped to go swimming today, Kuroo settles for making a damp, slouchy sandcastle as they talk about the current Nekoma team under Coach Naoi’s instruction.

The sun is near the horizon now, a deep molten core streaking the indigo waves with gold. Sawamura sits across from Kuroo so that the sunset shines through him, and Kuroo’s words stick in his throat for a moment when he notices.

He’d never gone to the beach with Sawamura while he was alive. There was never time, just like there was never time for any of the other thousand things Kuroo regrets not taking a chance on. Taking that art class in university. Going skydiving with Bokuto. Asking Sawamura out for a drink.

It isn’t like Kuroo had burned for Sawamura. Or tore up flowers and sheet music and journal pages trying to capture some fraction of the feelings he felt for him. Nothing ever so far-reaching or soul-wrenching.

But he had always thought that perhaps there was a greater than zero chance they might someday find their way to each other. Two lines not quite parallel, that might meet somewhere down the road, once they’d stretched far enough in the same direction. Sawamura had occupied a place in Kuroo’s life that no one else could fill – some cross of friend, rival, and if-only.

It was fondness folded into a summer daydream: wispy and weightless, with no expectations, but a whole quiet world of possibilities. And then all those possibilities came to an abrupt halt, and that was that.

Sawamura had never been his to lose. But Kuroo had hurt, nonetheless.

“Kuroo, help me dig up that little thing right there,” Sawamura says, interrupting Kuroo’s spiraling thoughts. His translucent hands comb against a shining patch of sand.

“Here?” Kuroo crouches down and scrapes his fingers through the spot Sawamura was just touching. He unearths a chunk of green sea glass the size of a stamp, and rubs it clean of sand. “Oh, nice find!”

It’s a lovely mossy color, frosted and worn soft to the touch. Sawamura runs a pale fingertip over the surface and then withdraws, floating a few feet into the air.

“Sorry, I can’t buy you anything, so that’ll have to do for a souvenir of our trip.”

“That’s more than good enough for me,” Kuroo says, finding himself stricken by the expression on Sawamura’s face.

He looks like he’s at peace, smiling at Kuroo with the same fondness he’s seen directed at Hinata or Suga or Tsukki. The sea glimmers dark like gold-embroidered velvet through him, but he looks and sounds so heartbreakingly familiar in this moment that Kuroo thinks he could forget about the last five years if he were to close his eyes.

Forget the way his heart stopped cold when he first heard the news. Forget how serious and still Sawamura’s face had looked in his memorial portrait. Forget how he had ached, sitting there with Kenma as they watched Hinata on the international court, knowing that there was someone who would never get to feel that pride when looking down at the court.

It’s past six p.m. now. Kuroo only has Sawamura again for today. This short, unsatisfactory slice of time. Eight hours left, and Kuroo doesn’t know how he’s going to say goodbye at the end of it.

--

It’s a quiet ride home, and then Kuroo brings them to a hole-in-the-wall yakitori place where he likes to grab a bite to eat after long days at work. They get a tiny booth to themselves, and Sawamura watches with patient amusement as Kuroo eats.

“What food do you miss most?” Kuroo asks, because he always loses track of his tact when he’s tipsy, and because Sawamura has proven to be awfully nonchalant about no longer existing.

“Actually, I think it might be yakiniku. Part of it probably has to do with the atmosphere; y’know, sitting around a table with your friends, fighting over the last piece of beef.”

Kuroo can see it, especially after that last day of training camp. God, they’d been so young then. Even now, he can imagine how it would be: Sawamura, crowded in his seat up between Azumane and Suga, arguing with Bokuto over the next piece of meat, making sure the pork is cooked just the way Kuroo likes it.

Kuroo waves his skewer in the air like an addled conductor. “Next time…the next time we do yakiniku, I’ll put a plate aside for you. I’ll even buy you a drink,” he promises drunkenly. “Come back and join us.”

“Well, I can’t say no if you’re going to be so generous.” Sawamura rests his chin in his hand, watching Kuroo with undivided attention. With the smoke in the air and the lights gleaming dimly against the wooden walls, the space feels suddenly intimate, and Kuroo takes another deep swig from his beer.

What if he had asked, one of those dozens of times he wanted to? Would they be sitting in a restaurant together on a night much like this one, laughing at each other’s jokes and flirting lightly as they wait for the check? Would Kuroo finally know more of Sawamura’s touch, beside those fleeting handshakes and hugs shared over the years?

Could Kuroo have changed the path of Sawamura’s life? Or do all roads lead to the same destination – with Kuroo mourning Sawamura as a lover instead of a friend?

There are no answers at the bottom of his bottle, but he drinks as if there are. Sawamura doesn’t comment, but he does pull the conversation back toward easier matters: Kenma’s promotion, Kai’s wedding, Yaku’s visit last month. Kuroo focuses on telling the best stories he can, because he thinks that if his mouth stops moving he’ll fixate on how Sawamura’s hand always rests close enough to touch, but never close enough to feel.

It’s approaching midnight when they leave the restaurant, and Kuroo takes Sawamura on the meandering path home. There’s a small park near his apartment block, and Sawamura insists that he take a seat on the bench for a moment to find his balance when he almost trips on the sidewalk.

“C’mon, I thought you could hold your liquor better than that.”

“ ‘m not even drunk anymore,” Kuroo grumbles. He slumps down, legs outstretched, and lets his head loll back. “I just get a little clumsy when I’m tired these days.”

“I don’t believe it,” Sawamura says brightly. “Not with those reflexes of yours.”

“Hey, lay off, I’m getting old!”

“You’re still in your twenties; don’t act like such a geezer.”

Kuroo pulls a face. “Not for long, I’m not. I’ll be using a cane soon. You’ll see.”

“Don’t be in such a rush to grow old. You’ll get there eventually.” Sawamura, seated on the bench beside him, floats up a few inches so he can reach out as if to brush Kuroo’s fringe out of his eyes. Of course, he only passes through Kuroo’s face like a winter breeze, but Kuroo gives him a watery smile back anyway. This is a tenderness neither of them is used to, but it feels like it’s been overdue. If only for tonight.

“Yeah, I’ll sit outside my house and yell at my grandkids’ friends when they come around.”

“At least offer them some snacks, you jerk.”

Above, the stars are brighter than they ever were in Tokyo, and Kuroo wonders if this is the sky that Sawamura used to see, looking out his window as they reached for the same dream. It’s easy to waste another hour just talking to Sawamura like this, because this is the relationship they always had, in those scant moments they shared together over the course of their friendship. Sawamura wasn’t lying when he said he just wanted to visit: it’s like he’s been dropped back into Kuroo’s life after a long trip abroad. If Kuroo were a little more idealistic, he would hope for another day like this, another chance to catch up a few years down the line.

But something in the core of his heart tells him this isn’t an ordinary occasion.

It’s a quarter to two when they finally reach the main street that leads back to his apartment. They pass by the konbini silently, and then the criss-crossing little residential streets until they’re standing only meters away from Kuroo’s building. Kuroo’s never been an expert on the supernatural, but he can feel the space around Sawamura growing blurred, like it wants to pull him back across the veil. He’s about to make an ill-timed joke about it when Sawamura stops them in their tracks and turns to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“Thanks for spending the day with me, Kuroo. I had a lot of fun.”

There’s a heavy finality in his voice. It fills Kuroo’s lungs with lead.

The alcohol is wearing off, but enough of that liquid bravery, like magma in Kuroo’s stomach, remains that he wants to say something stupid in response.

I mourned you.

I grieved for something I wasn’t even sure I understood. A lingering promise, a missed chance. A dream that faded before I could wake.

...I think I could have loved you.

But there are only a few fleeting minutes until Sawamura has to depart, so Kuroo will be civil. Kuroo will be kind, to both Sawamura and himself.

He intends to just accept Sawamura’s gratitude, but one question sticks in his mind so persistently that he’s asking before he can find the self-restraint to stop.

“Sawamura. Why did you- why come and see me? I know there are so many people who would’ve given- who would be delighted to see you one last time. So why choose me?”

Sawamura pauses, his mouth slightly parted as if to speak, before his expression shifts.

Years ago, lifetimes ago, there had been a morning in Tokyo, misty and gray, when Sawamura had stumbled into Kuroo’s corner of town and they spent a handful of hours together before he was expected at the airport. They’d done nothing exciting, but Kuroo will never forget it, if only because of the expression that Sawamura wore while they were waiting for the bus as the fog lay thick around them, blocking out the rest of the world.

Kuroo had long gotten used to being admired, or glared at, or sized up as an opponent. He’d seen all three cross Sawamura’s face in the past, though usually he met Kuroo with either amusement or teasing exasperation. In that moment, however, it had been something wholly new. Something Kuroo wasn’t sure he was reading correctly.

Sawamura was watching Kuroo like he wasn’t sure he was real, those dark eyes wide and wondrous. As if Kuroo was something special to behold, something not quite within reach. It only lasted a second, before Sawamura shook himself out of it and gave Kuroo that sly grin that he knew so well. But Kuroo could never get that sight out his head, letting it haunt him in sleepless hours.

It’s how Sawamura looks at him now.

“I just wanted to see you, I guess,” Sawamura says, eyes soft. After a second, he laughs quietly and ducks his head, in a gesture that feels painfully true to life. When he looks up again, his gaze is clear and focused, the way it always was on court. The way Kuroo remembers him best. “I wanted to catch up with an old friend. So, thank you. Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

They both know that they can’t.

Kuroo swallows, and it hurts his dry throat. “Y-yeah, of course. Just, uh, drop by or whatever. You know where to find me.”

“I do,” Sawamura says, laughing once more. Kuroo’s heart aches.

He wants to say something to prolong the moment, but if there’s anything he’s learned over the last day, it’s that any chance they had has long since been lost. Regret lies heavy in his bloodstream and his breath comes short when he inhales. Kuroo is pushing thirty now, settled in his life and happy about where he’s headed, and Sawamura?

Sawamura will never look a day past twenty-four.

Kuroo clenches his right hand, trying to remember how Sawamura’s palm felt against his, calloused and strong and searing. But nothing remains except the faintest sense memory.

He extends his hand regardless, knowing it can’t be the same.

“Goodnight, Sawamura.”

When Sawamura’s fingers brush against Kuroo’s palm, a chill runs through his skin and he tries to close his hand around the flesh that isn’t there. He gets a rueful look in return as the other man withdraws.

“This is where I tell you I won’t lose again, isn’t it?”

“And where I tell you we’d be happy to take you on again any time,” Kuroo agrees quietly.

“I think that rematch will have to wait.” And Kuroo can see his outline going threadbare.

Sawamura lifts his hand back into a wave, slipping backwards toward the light of the street lamp. The honey glow of the lamp intersects briefly with Sawamura’s own light, painting him angelic gold for a second, and for just this moment, with the veil of reality pulled thin, Kuroo can see the yearning clear as daybreak written in Sawamura’s eyes. Like a perfect mirror image to Kuroo’s own.

It’s instinct to step forward, reaching out toward Sawamura to try and touch him, to catch him before Kuroo can lose him, yet again, but already the distance is too wide. Sawamura smiles, even as he fades.

“Goodbye, Kuroo.”

And he’s gone.

Kuroo stares for a minute longer, willing the streetlight to shimmer and reveal Sawamura’s ghostly form again, but there’s nobody here on this road except Kuroo and a few sedate cars passing through. The whole world is quiet, giving him a moment of silence to find his breath, steady his heart.

The spring air embraces Kuroo with cold familiarity as he begins slowly walking up the stairs home, alone again. Above as below, the world spins on, once more without Sawamura. Kuroo unlocks his door, but stands there in the threshold for a long moment, just looking in. Finally, he takes a deep breath and steps inside.

It’s late. He should go to sleep, and wake early to greet the new day. Maybe tomorrow he’ll go for a swim.

[southside-vixen]

Fire and Ice (Sweet Pea) 3

Chapter 3. Hold My Beer

AO3

Adrianna Rivera has just made a difficult move from Arizona to the southside of Riverdale. With the history of her life in Phoenix behind her will she be able to find a new family in the Southside Serpents? Or will a certain tall, dark, and rage inducing Serpent cause issues?

A couple weeks passed since the debacle at Pop’s. Things were quiet for the most part. Adria and Sweet Pea ignored each other like their lives depended on it. The worst being the history class that she only shared with him. But overall things were improving. She and Toni were growing closer, and she was also spending quite a bit of time with her new neighbor. When he wasn’t spending time with the enemy that is.

“Thanks for the ride home, Fangs.” Adria handed his spare helmet back to him

“Of course, Ads. We’re next door neighbors, why wouldn’t I give you a ride home?”

“Ugh. That’s going to stick isn’t it? I guess I don’t hate it.” She shivered as she watched Fangs put his bike under the car park next to his trailer “I don’t know how you guys live here. With all this…weather.”

Fangs laughed “If you owned anything aside from crop tops and ripped jeans maybe you’d survive. Not like I’m complaining, it’s a good look.” He winked at her. There was no way she would be able to buy an entire new wardrobe with her budget of 0 dollars. She’d have to ask Ness if she had anything she could use. The idea of using hand me downs was definitely a hard one to get used to.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow” Adria smiled and walked into her new home to see Ness sitting on the couch, the screams coming from the TV indicating she was catching up on the old horror movies she loved so much.

“Hey, Ness. Can I ask you something?” Adria threw her purse down on one of the kitchen chairs and plopped down in the chair next to her aunt

“Yeah of course” Ness sat up and paused the TV, causing the room to go silent “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Well. The weather here sucks and I have nothing to deal with it. The warmest thing I own are some thin sweaters.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah your crop tops aren’t gonna keep you warm for much longer. I think I have some old clothes from a few years ago in the basement that I never got around to getting rid of. Let me bust ‘em out and we’ll wash what you want and finally donate what you don’t. You look to be about my size when I was a few years younger.”

Adria looked at Ness, her aunt looked more like her than her own mother did. At least from what she could see from pictures. Even some of the older Serpent members had mentioned that she looked like Ness from high school.

“I didn’t know we even had a basement. Or that trailers had basements in general.”

“Cool it with the classism, Penthouse Barbie” Ness laughed “First off, this is a double wide. Second, it’s a glorified crawl space filled with cobwebs. Not a place for late night parties. Don’t worry though, I’ll clean the spiders off the bags before I bring them up.”

“I really didn’t need to know about the spiders” Adria shuddered “And I don’t think anyone’s called me a Barbie before.”

“You’re a beautiful girl, Adrianna. I would know since you look nearly identical to me when I was your age.” Ness flashed a smile and got up from her seat “I’ll be right back”

Adria watched as Ness opened a door in the hallway and disappeared behind it. She settled into her phone looking at all the photos her old friends were posting on Instagram. Pictures of their recent trip to some new exclusive club in Las Angeles. Sitting in the VIP area with bottle service. She missed her old life more than anything. Brunch with her father on Sundays, Friday nights with the girls at a different club each weekend. In Riverdale her fake ID would get her nowhere, not like the Wrym carded anyone anyway.

A long sigh escaped her lips, it was easier to pretend her new life was fine when she avoided social media. None of her old ‘friends’ contacted her after her father’s trip to prison. The isolation from her old group was hard to cope with, but none of them had any loyalty to her. Hell, she wouldn’t even be surprised if they were close to her because of her family and her money. She wanted to believe that people here were different, even if they only reason they were around her initially was at her aunt’s request.

“Something wrong?” Ness threw two large black trash bags of clothes onto the floor and shut the basement door behind her

“Just in my own head, I guess.” Adria put her phone back into her pocket “When do you think my dad’ll be able to call from prison? It’s been about a couple weeks now.”

“He’s probably just settling in and spending most of his time with his lawyers, I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon.” She brought the bags to the living room and dumped their contents onto the ground. There was loads of blacks and greys with some dark blues and greens thrown in here and there. Adria plopped herself on the floor and began sorting through the sea of flannel and leather. Finding anything that stood out to her. It wasn’t her style at all, but then again Toni rocked it so maybe she could too.

“I don’t think your classmates will give you as much shit with all this. You’ll look the part of a Southside High student. Ness said “Just remember, it’s just for the colder seasons. If it’s really that bad we can check out the local thrift stores but we definitely don’t have the budget to match the clothes you brought.”

“I know, Ness. I understand.” Adria had resigned herself that this might be the case on the bus ride in. She felt a bit like Alice falling down the rabbit hole at times. Riverdale was an entirely new world and she was determined to show she was strong. Even if that meant sucking it up and wearing hand me downs and thrift store finds. Hell, she would even make them look good.

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

The next day Adria walked into school in her ‘new’ clothes she received from Ness. After careful consideration in the mirror that morning she decided on ripped jeans, a black tank top, dark green flannel, and to top it off- her aunt’s old, patch free, leather jacket.

For once, she blended. No Ghoulies looked at her like she was an injured deer waiting to be gutted. It was actually pretty refreshing. She sat down at her lab table for chemistry and plopped down her bags. Conveniently enough she had chemistry with Fangs. Not like it was great for either of their grades since they were both terrible at it.

“Ads?” She lifted her head to see Fangs standing wide eyed at the end of the table “Shit. You almost look like a completely different person.”

“I look like an idiot, don’t I? I knew I couldn’t pull off flannel and leather.”

“You look like a Serpent. Pretty impressive transformation for overnight. It’s a good look for you.” He set down his bag and sat next to her “You shouldn’t worry so much about appearances. They don’t matter as much as you think they do.”

Adria breathed a sigh of relief “Yeah, I’ll try. Just difficult when I feel like a kid playing dress up.”

“You’re overthinking it. It’s just clothes.”

He was probably right. Just clothes, she was still the same Adria. Even if she was wearing flannel, something she swore never to do. But it was for warmth. Not because she was trying to be something she wasn’t. Nope, same Adria. Just in a leather jacket. That was it.

By the time she arrived to lunch the table was already buzzing.

“Hey, guys. What’s going on?” Adria took a seat next to Toni. The conversation died immediately after she arrived, and more than one person’s jaw dropped to the ground.

“Ads?” Toni asked, a smile creeping on her face “Damn, girl you look great! Fangs said you had a makeover but this is something else.”

“I told you it was a good look!” Fangs walked over and slung his arm around her shoulder “what do you think Sweet Pea?”

Oh no. This is exactly what she didn’t want right now. He would open his mouth and all of her self-doubt that had been easing away over the course of the day would come flooding back.

For a long moment Sweet Pea didn’t say anything

“She certainly looks the part”

Adria was in awe. It wasn’t an outright insult. Sure, it was vaguely implied but it wasn’t outright malicious.

“Okay then” Toni nodded with a smile, “Anyway big news, Ads. Starting tomorrow you won’t be the new kid anymore.”

”What, really? Who is it? Do you know them?” Adria was more than excited to not be the newest one in the group. Maybe it would get Sweet Pea to lay off her once he had someone else to take his anger out on.

“Forsyth Pendleton Jones the Third. FP Jones’ son.”

“Who’s that?” Adria looked around at the rest of the table. Clearly everyone else knew what was going on.

“He’s the leader of the Serpents. Well. Kind of. He’s in jail right now.” Fangs responded

“Figures she doesn’t know the name of the leader of the gang she’s trying to imitate.” Sweet Pea swept some of his hair out of his face “She may look the part but she’s still not one of us.”

“Fine.” Adria slammed her hand down on the table “What do I need to do to prove to you that I have what it takes?”

“Tomorrow. The quarry. We’ll figure something out.” Pea stared back at her across the table. She was at the end of her rope dealing with his attitude. She would do whatever the idiot wanted to prove herself worthy to be part of his stupid little group. The stupid little group that was starting to mean a lot more to her than she initially planned.

The next day came quicker than she would have liked. Sure enough, Toni was absent most of the morning showing around the newest member of their group the school. She didn’t see her again until she was able to pull her into the bathroom after English.

“Toni, what did I agree to?” She looked around to make sure no one was around to hear her fear “I was up all night worried about what the hell that douchebag is going to have me do”

“Okay. Calm down and take a deep breath”

She did as Toni instructed

“You’re going to be fine. It won’t be as bad as you think, I promise. That’s all I can tell you as I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

Toni’s reassurance didn’t make her feel any better. She greeted the newest member at lunch, Jughead Jones. He seemed nice enough, although she couldn’t focus on anything aside from what might be happening at the quarry. The sand in the clock ran out much quicker than she would have liked. Before she knew it she was on the back of Fang’s bike on the way to the quarry. The only promise that Toni and Sweet Pea would meet them there.

“How are you feeling?” Fangs asked once they had finally arrived. The quarry was too cold for swimming this time of year. Adria walked over to the fire pit that he was trying to start. Waiting for something to warm her up.

“Nervous. But you have to promise not to tell that pompous asshole you call your best friend.” She whispered harshly. More of the Serpents she didn’t really talk to were starting to show up and her nerves continued to grow. She had genuinely hoped it would just be the four of them.

“I won’t say a word. Promise.” He put a hand on her shoulder and ushered her to a fold up chair by the fire.

It seemed like ages before Toni and Sweet Pea showed up. When they finally did they brought enough booze to drown a small family.

“Hope you’re ready for what’s to come, Princess.” Sweet Pea walked over and put an entire bottle of whiskey into her hands “This one’s yours. Better get started.”

This was it? Her task was to drink a bottle of whiskey on her own? This was like an average Tuesday back in her old life. This was going to be much easier than she thought.

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

Toni, Sweet Pea, and Fangs were all in awe about how much the small framed city girl could put away. She drank her entire bottle of whiskey without even batting an eye, then had a couple swigs from Fang’s bottle. By the end of her bender she was sitting on Toni’s lap, giggling at just about anything that was anyone said. Sure everyone else had been drinking, but she was the drunkest girl at the party by far.

“So is this it?” Adria slurred “This is nothinggggg” she laughed, throwing her head back. She barely missed bashing Toni in the nose.

“I think she’s ready” Toni peeked around her friend at the guys

“Alright, Ads. Welcome to your trial” Fangs said, trying to be serious although he was also clearly drunk.

“We don’t keep secrets in the Serpents so your first task is to go around and tell us all what you really think of us” Sweet Pea stared her down from across the fire “Let’s start easy. With what you think of Toni Topaz.”

Adria looked turned to look at Toni and smiled

“Toni Topaz. I first thought you were a huuuuuuge bitch. But you’re so nice!” Adria’s grin grew “You’re a precious angel in what I thought would be a hell hole. I love you, Toni. You’re such a good friend” she grabbed her friend around the neck and gave her a huge hug, listening to a small chorus of ‘awww’ around them.

They went around while she gave her opinion of the other Serpents that were there, not like it was much considering she barely talked to most of them. They were all superficial drunk ramblings. Then it brought around to the end, with only Fangs and Sweet Pea left.

“Fangs…Don’t think I don’t notice you’re a huge pervert” She laughed “But you’re cute so I forgive you. Thanks for being around and helping me feel like I have a home here”

“Cute, huh?” Fangs laughed and gave her a wink

“Not gonna happen.”

“Well. We’ve saved the best for last Ads. Tell us exactly how you feel about Sweet Pea.”

This one was a doozy and everyone around the circle knew it. They had been watching for weeks as the two barely spoke and when they did everyone around them prepared to break up a fight.

“Sweet Pea, huh?” Adria’s smile faded as she locked eyes with him across the flames “Sweet Pea is the biggest dick I’ve ever met. I have no idea what is issue is with me as I’ve done literally nothing to him. This is all made significantly more infuriating by his face. His stupid attractive face.”

Adria stopped dead in her tracks. The whole idea of the gathering was that getting her outrageously drunk she would speak exactly what was on her mind. And sure enough she did, even the things she had shoved way in the back. The murmurs around the circle had gone completely silent as everyone stared at her.

“This has been so much fun. Toni, can you take me home now?” she looked at her friend pleadingly.

“Well, there is one more thing Ads.” Toni gave her a half-hearted smile as she pushed her off her lap

“Strip.” One of the other Serpents said, she was pretty sure his name was Andre.

“What?” Adria looked back at Toni “This is a joke right?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ll help hold you up” and she did. Toni held Adria’s arm as she removed all her clothing down to her bra and underwear.

“Fine. Now what?” She demanded, her buzz quickly wearing off with the cold and fear settling in

“Now you jump in the quarry. Show us how tough you are” Sweet Pea stood up from his seat “That’s what you wanted, right? A chance to prove yourself?”

Adria looked down, it was only about a 10 foot jump into the water. The incredibly cold water. She was already shivering, even with all the alcohol. She looked back at Toni who gave her a small nod, urging her to just get it over with. So she did.

Adria took a deep breath as she ran and jumped, doing her best to brace herself during the small fall for her fate. But it wasn’t enough. The cold water hit like daggers and took her breath away. At least she thought it did but the scream she heard echoing through the air sounded a lot like her own. When she regained her composure she noticed Fangs standing on the edge of the water, his hand outstretched.

She swam over and her friend lifted her out of the water, placing his jacket over her shoulders. Trying to rub her arms to warm her up

“You killed it Ads, you looked tough. Screaming and all.” Fangs smiled “Let’s get you by the fire”

Fangs walked her back to the small beacon of heat as everyone around her cheered and gave her pats on the back. She stood in front the fire with another bottle of whiskey trying to warm herself up before putting her clothes on

“Holy shit, I’m glad that’s over.” Adria lamented to Toni while she put her clothes back on “I’ve never been that cold in my life”

“You held up really well. Especially for someone who just arrived from the southwest a few weeks ago. There’s no way Sweet Pea can deny you’re tougher than you look now” She took the bottle from Adria and took a couple of swigs herself.

“Speaking of, where is the devil incarnate?” Adria asked, scouting the clearing which had erupted into a full blown party now that they were done with her ‘trial’. She didn’t see him anywhere and she had a drunken bone to pick.

“Last I knew he went to take a piss in the woods. Why, what’s up?”

“Funny coincidence. I also have to take a piss. In the woods. Right now. Be right back!” Toni stood, confused, as Adria all but ran to the tree line. What in the hell was she doing?

Adria reached the trees and glanced around. She found a couple people who snuck away from the fire to go make out in the privacy of the trees. She ignored them and continued her search for who she was actually looking for. And she found him. Sweet Pea had turned around from a tree outside of everyone’s view and was zipping up his pants when Adria spotted him.

“You!” she yelled “I need to talk to you”

Sweet Pea stood dumbfounded as she strolled right up to him, chest to chest as she stared into his eyes.

“Why do you hate me for no reason? And yes, it is no reason because you’ve never even bothered to have a conversation with me.”

Sweet Pea just stared down at her for a few seconds. He was at a loss for words and the booze wasn’t helping.

“I know exactly your type. Girls like you think they can get whatever they want because they have money. But not here, Princess. Not with me or the Serpents.” He didn’t take his eyes off her

“You’ve never met a girl like me.” Aria attempted to stand on her tip toes to look taller and more imposing but she failed miserably. She was far too drunk to be taken seriously. She teetered back and her reflexes were all but gone. She made no attempt to catch herself as she fell backward.

Sweet Pea instinctively grabbed Adria’s arm to keep her from falling and pulled her back up, securing her with a hand behind her waist. Adria looked up, both of them looking shocked at the other. She could hardly feel the pain in her shoulder from being yanked so hard.

For some reason neither of them moved to correct the issue. Later, both of them would blame being too drunk. Adria stared up at the boy she told herself she absolutely despised. Hands grasping his arms. His incredibly toned arms. And then there was yelling.

“Ads?” she heard Toni yell “Please don’t be dead in a ditch” Toni turned the corner to see two people up against a tree, the dark obscuring their faces. “Have either of you seen Adria? She’s been gone for far too long.”

Both of them moved too slowly to have avoided it. Sweet Pea quickly pushed Adria back and she whipped herself around to face Toni. Both of them looking incredibly guilty.

“Uh. Hey…Toni.” Adria stood in front of Sweet Pea, putting her hands behind her back “Is it time to go home?”

[theshapeshifter100]

Guess What? I’m Not a Robot Ch12

Summary: A quick discussion on what the poster means, then some fluff to make up for the turmoil of the last few chapters.

Chapter Warnings: A little panic, otherwise it’s fluff

Word Count: 1,382

12.30 Saturday 30th July 2038

“It-it could just be a co-incidence,” Paul thought, not sure he dared believe what he was reading.

“I don’t know,” Megan disagreed. “Alex seemed insistent about this; they even mentioned codes when I was talking to them. They knew about this.”

“Okay,” Paul stood up, clearly not sure what to do with himself. “If this is real, if this is some kind of, android rights group. What do they want? Why tell you? Why the convoluted way of advertising?”

“I don’t know,” Megan looked up at him as he began to pace. “I, I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Go to this meeting?” Paul asked, hysteria creeping into his voice. “What’s if it’s a trick, what if it’s to lure deviant androids?!”

“Then I’ll go,” Megan offered, already feeling a little sick about the idea. Although, if Alex told her, maybe they would be there. “It would be in the evening, there aren’t any lectures in the main auditorium that late.”

“Would you be able to go alone? I thought you’d hate that,” Paul realised, and Megan shrugged non-committedly.

“I’m, I’m not thrilled by it, but if you really don’t want to go, then I can’t force you.”

Paul looked at her, unsure. “Well, you don’t have to go either. We can pretend this never happened.”

“We could,” Megan agreed, “but, I found today, that it can be worth doing things you’re not comfortable with. I was so scared about going to the Medical Centre today I thought I was going to be sick. But, once I got there and started talking, yeah I was still scared, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. Maybe, maybe this will be the same. Besides, Alex told me about it, so they’ll probably be there.”

Megan began to pack up the books. “Anyway, it’s not for another couple of days. We’ve got time to think about it.”

Paul nodded, relaxing. “I should make lunch,” he decided.

“If you want,” Megan responded, deciding to put the books on the shelf rather than back into the tower. “You’ve had a rough morning though, maybe you should relax.”

“I’ll relax, once I’ve made lunch,” Paul was already in the kitchen.

“Suit yourself,” Megan got back to her books, going through the titles of textbooks to figure out which ones she’d need for future essays.

Paul didn’t take long on lunch, grilled cheese sandwich and cucumber sticks. Megan sat down to eat, and he sat opposite.

“You were smiling,” he realised, and when Megan gave him an odd look, he elaborated. “When you were going through the codes, you were smiling.”

“It’s not like I don’t smile,” Megan countered after she’d swallowed.

“You don’t often.”

Megan shrugged. “My mom got me into it. She was an internet theorist back in the day. And, it’s that, piecing together events, puzzle solving. It’s fun. That’s what I hoped to get out of History, and sometimes I do.”

“If you wanted puzzle solving, why not math?”

“I can never remember equations,” Megan admitted before taking another bite of her sandwich.

“You write fiction a lot, why not English then?”

“I’d lose motivation. I write primarily for fun, if I had to do it for grades, I’d lose interest. It wouldn’t be fun anymore.”

“I, suppose that makes sense,” Paul leaned back in his chair.

“Oh! I just remembered,” Megan shoved the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and bolted up from the table. She ran to her room, not bothering to shut the door as she glanced around. Now would she have put that sweater?

Paul cautiously followed, stopping just before the threshold of her room. It was about as bad as he expected; there was a pile of laundry on the only chair in the room, the closet also appeared to more of a pile of clothes than an actual closet, and the bed wasn’t made. The bed oddly enough was a single, rather than a double, which Paul had expected, but otherwise disregarded.

The bedside table was mess of elastic hair bands, which he was pretty he’d never seen Megan ever wear. Her hair brush was due for a cleanout, and had that table ever been dusted?

He had to force himself to almost switch off his cleanliness tendencies as Megan started throwing clothes over her shoulder. She was digging around in the closet pile, trying to find something.

“Ah ha!” she declared, standing up. In her hands was a red and gold sweater with a phoenix on it. A high school football jersey. It was far too big for Megan, so it had to be her brother’s sweater than she mentioned that morning.

“Try this on,” she threw the sweater at Paul, who caught it with ease. After a slight pause he pulled it on over his uniform.

It was big on him, his shoulders were too narrow, the hem went way past his pelvis and his hands disappeared into the sleeves.

“Okay, maybe my brother is a bit bigger than you,” Megan noted, using a hand to cover her face.

“You don’t say,” Paul commented dryly. “Why are you holding your hand like that?”

“No reason.”

“Then there should be no problems with you removing your hand.”

“If you insist,” Megan removed her hand, revealing a massive grin as she struggling not to laugh.

“It’s not that funny!” Paul protested.

“You look adorable! Especially when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Paul assured. “I’m, irritated, I suppose.”

“Okay,” despite the neutral tone, Megan’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “You can take it off if you want.”

Paul did indeed take it off, then paused. He looked over at Megan with a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“What?” Megan asked just before the balled up sweater got thrown at her.

“Your turn,” was all Paul said, and Megan raised her eyebrow, but complied with an over exaggerated huff.

If it was big on Paul, it swamped Megan. The bottom of the sweater reached her knees and when she folded her arms she nearly got hit in the face by flying sleeves.

“I would agree,” Paul smirked. “Oversized sweaters are adorable.”

“Oh shut up,” Megan grumbled, and Paul felt a genuine smile crawl onto his face with no prior instruction.

Acting on what he could describe as an odd form of instinct, he walked into her room, making her eyes widen for moment, before reaching his hand out and ruffling her hair.

“What the hell man?!” she cried, laughing a little bit as she ducked out from underneath his hand. Paul suddenly realised where he was standing and jumped back to beyond the threshold.

“I’m sorry, I...” he fumbled, not sure how he should act. Megan’s language and tone were completely at odds with each other, and he had just stepped into her room, something he’d nearly had a breakdown over earlier in the day.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” she assured, hands out to try and calm him. “You took me by surprise, that was all.”

“And, the room?” Paul gestured to the threshold. “I know you didn’t want me in here.”

Megan’s smile faded to a half hearted one. “I, I don’t really like, anyone, in here. Period. It’s not personal,” seeing that this wasn’t helping, Megan continued. “But, just now, that was fine. The door was open, I was in here and talking to you. In that context, it was fine.”

Megan began to pull off the sweater, chucking it on the bed once it was off, and smoothing her hair back down.

“So, that sweater isn’t going to work,” she concluded.

“I, I probably won’t be going out for a while. No until I’ve got more of an idea of, emotions,” Paul admitted.

“You’re not going to understand emotions staying in here.”

“...Books, can provide emotions,” Paul defended, and Megan nodded.

“Fair point. That’s your homework until we go clothes shopping.”

“Understood,” Paul half smirked. “What is the deadline?”

“When I next get paid,” Megan thought for a second. “I’ve got a small commission I could knock out in the next couple of days.”

“After the android meeting,” Paul tensed up a little.

“Yeah, let’s do it the day after that,” Megan agreed.

A/N

A bit of calm down, filler chapter. The last couple were emotionally fraught so here's a chill chapter. The sweater is not a reference to anything, I don't know US schools so I just randomly picked an animal and colour scheme.

I really don't think there's much in the way of Other Options, so I'll leave that out today. If anyone has any suggestions, feel free to send them. I'd love to see them

Tags! @septicart-appreciation @nightmarejim

[stormcloudvee]

What Jack has done for me.

I just saw this going around, so I am going to jump in... I hope nobody minds.

Ah, where do I start?

I remember finding Jack's channel back in 2013? I think it was? Maybe earlier. I don't quite remeber, it's been so long.

I was 12 years old, and didn't understand why my parents didn't like me watching a strange Irish youtuber cuss on screen in front of me.

They didn't understand that he helped me get through the end of elementary school and help me start junior highschool.

Let me give you a bit of my school backstory, all through elementary school I was bullied, and beat up, almost every day. And finding Jack gave me something to look forward to when I got home. I really didn't talk much and I really wouldn't do anything. I was a good kid, I did my homework and chores, watched some youtube, went to bed, woke up the next morning, went to school, repeat.

And throughout all that bullying Jack was my safe haven, he helped me push through a time in my life I should not have been feeling the way I was feeling. (Note: I went back through my old diaries I had from that time and found an entry I don't remember writing, saying how I wanted to die... Sad for a 12 year old to be writing that because of bullying.)

And then I went into Junior high, a time where my anxiety increased tenfold, I didn't know anyone other than two girls who were some of my bullies in elementary school.

I remember the day when Jack was shouted out by Pewdiepie (Pewds was the first youtuber I ever watched, then Jack, Then Dan And Phil, then Mark, etc.) I was so excited for him, and so, so proud.

And then the years went on. And I got through junior high with minor scrapes and bruises, I just kept quiet and kept my head down.

9th grade rolled around, and it became harder for me to keep on going. My depression was fully developed by that point? I guess you could say that... And I was trying to help my friends through their self harming and depression and suicidal tendencies, all while dealing with my own bullshit and a mentally abusive friendship. I had no one to rant to, I didn't want to mess anything up. I stopped watching Jack as much because I didn't have the motivation to do it every day, I barely wanted to get out of bed. And it got to the point where I would only smile if Jack posted that day.

10th grade came around, and while being in a mentally abusive friendship I entered into an equally (a little bit more extreme) abusive relationship with a girl. She was my first girlfriend and I was exploring my sexuality, it was a rough time for me. I started giving up. I started self harming and I felt hopeless. And the only one who was really there for me was Jack (and Mark at this point, I found him in 2015?) I didn't want to keep going, there were so many days I felt useless, and ugly, and stupid, and worthless... hopeless. BUT, watching Jack helped. He made me feel less alone. And in 2016 I started writing him letters. As a kind of coping mechanism. They helped me express myself when I had no friends that really cared. 2017 came around and was the hardest year of my life. I had tried to kill myself three times by the time I was 16.

My abusive girlfriend broke up with me on my 16th birthday (my birthday is January 13th, and that year it happened to land on a Friday, Friday the 13th truly lived up to its name for me last year) My mom was out of town and couldn't celebrate with me, my sisters were at school, and my dad was at work.

So I was home alone, in tears because my first love just broke my heart and called me a bitch for shit she did.

And I kind of gave up.

That day I just... gave up. I gave up on living, I gave up on trying. I gave up.

I spent the time alone... watching Jack on the big screen, trying to block out the feelings.

I wrote more letters, less than in 2016 because I couldn't be bothered and felt that I would annoy him if he ever got the letters.

I forced myself to write more anyways.

And then I sealed it, the beginning of this year I sealed the 2017 letter.

(I have several envelopes, marked from 2016-2020)

But I don't need the 2019, and 2020 ones.

Because I get to give @therealjacksepticeye those letters, and some crappy art I drew, and some presents in August when I finally see him in person. I got a summer job, so I can take my sisters to the How Did We Get Here tour in Phoenix on August 24th.

I'm still bad some days, but my parents found out about my self harming this year in February, and since then I started some counseling and we are looking for a longer term therapist and getting me on antidepressants. I've been clean since they found out.

Basically, to sum this up, (sorry for my rambling, I have ADD and like... tangents everywhere....I'm amazed I have written this all out in one sitting ) How has Jack helped me?

He hasn't just helped me. He has saved me. On multiple occasions. The letters I have for him kept me going. The hope he would read them some day got me through.

He helped me laugh when I didn't think I could. He helped me just keep breathing, and helped me learn how to calm down during my anxiety attacks. He helped me keep going when I didn't think I could, or didn't think I wanted to. He has helped me find what I want to do with my life. I want to help people like he does. Help those who have gone through what I have, and people who are going through it and other stuff.

He has helped me keep going. To find a purpose, to believe in myself more and has helped me keep trying, even when I want to quit. He helped me find a way to keep going, to help those who need it.

And he helped me find someone I love very much, because without him I wouldn't have been here to find her.

So I want to thank him, to thank all of you for being such an amazing community, helping to bring each other up when we see others feeling down. I am proud of our community, proud of Jack, and so greatful for him and you.

Thank you for sitting through my rambling, sorry there is a lot. 😅 I do that when I am passionate about something.