#to be fair it's pretty good for a sixth grader

[luna-lovegreat]

I just went through my essays from sixth grade and??? I found my report on hamlet and found these gems and I just-

I envy my younger self for the sheer sass but

I'm really glad I was homeschooled in English at this point because the teacher at my school would've passed out oh my gosh

[katnissmellarkkk]

Okay, here we go! Imma do my liveblog of The Hunger Games, Chapter One, for #THGagain :

I’ll put my thoughts underneath the cut so I don’t clog up the dash 🥳

Okay but right off the bat, Katniss says her mattress cover is rough 🥺. I don’t know, this just made me sad all of a sudden.

So okay, but the fact that Prim had a bad dream and climbed in with their mother? I don’t know if that indicates that Prim still sees their mother as a source of comfort whereas Katniss can’t let herself feel the same way or if it’s just because she didn’t want to wake Katniss.

Maybe it’s supposed to be that Prim is too naive to understand that their mother is mentally fragile? Since in Mockingjay, she says “I know there’s only so much mother can hear,” or something like that, as a way to prove she’s not a little kid anymore sooo. I don’t know. Just some thoughts.

Katniss is shady towards mama right off the bat 🤣. Katniss is shady no matter what though. It’s what makes her narration sound like a teenage girl.

If Katniss is so anti-social though, who’s telling her her mother was once beautiful?

As a cat lover, I take offense to Katniss’ insults to the poor one eyed furball 😭.

So coal miners are also women? I suspected as much but I didn’t realize it was explicitly stated? So if Katniss’ life had gone differently, would she have become a coal miner?

So none of the houses in Twelve get electricity outside of a couple hours a night? Or just in the Seam?

I always forget that Katniss had nightmares even before the games 😔😔😔. Nightmares of her father “being blown to bits.” She has a vivid way with words.

Her father made her bow 🥺🥺. I knew that. I just thought I should mention it again. She uses the bow her father handmade throughout the series 🥺.

Also she says Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to “the few of them who hunt”. A few is more than two. Who else besides Katniss and Gale go hunting?

I like that she randomly starts mumbling to herself 🤣🤣🤣

Once upon a time, Katniss was outspoken apparently. But she mentions that she has to hold her tongue even at home because Prim may repeat her words. I don’t know why, but Prim seems immature for twelve years old. At twelve, in today’s society, you’re going into sixth grade. A sixth grader should know how to keep a secret or hold her tongue.

Gale says she never smiles but in the woods but isn’t that the only place they really spend time together? 🤣

“I kind of liked that lynx but I liked the money I got for it’s pelt more” 😂😂😂

An arrow inside bread. How fortuitous 😭😭😭

I do love that Katniss’ first introduction of Gale is “he could be my brother”

“But we’re at least not that closely related” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

“Katniss, get off your cousin”

Even though the merchant class is smaller

Meaning they’re even more inbred

And Katniss is half merch-

Okay I’m done with this line of thinking 🤭😅

So backwoods 🤣

So did Mrs. Everdeen’s parents disown her? Or what? Do they still own that apothecary shop? Does Katniss occasionally walk by her grandparents in the town square? Like I’d like more context here, Suz 🙃

Aww, I always feel so bad for Katniss when she talks about her mother abandoning her 😭😩🥺

“But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type” me either. Me either 🤧.

This may be why I so closely relate to her when she’s angry.

And why when people in the book say she needs to be more forgiving (ala Haymitch) I’m like “no”

I’m sorry but on second glance (more like 8th glance because I’ve read this chapter since I was 16) it’s so obvious Gale was hitting on her here 😅.

She’s oblivious 🤣🤣🤣

As she should be 😆

So later on, in the second book at least, Katniss definitely has some high respect for Hazelle Hawthorne. But here it seems to be like she’s implying Hazelle and her own mother are useless without her and Gale, and like they wouldn’t be able to provide for themselves. Maybe Hazelle just wasn’t fleshed out to Suzanne when she wrote the first book, the same way the love triangle you can tell if you look is sort of just tossed in there in the first book too? Anyways, just a thought.

That line about Prim being the only person Katniss is certain that she loves is sweet (it’s actually one of my favorite lines in the series) but it’s also so shady at the same time 😅😅😅. Like girl, you’re not sure if you love your mother or even your best friend (in a platonic way)?

Katniss makes a point in mentioning it took a long time for her and Gale to become friends. And I feel like that has been simplified a lot along the way, but it never really sounded to me like Katniss and Gale were besties for as long as most people think. The movies are a lot to blame for this, I know.

I don’t actually think Katniss is truly jealous here of the other girls wanting Gale? I feel like if she were she would have unconsciously insulted the school girls who were into him instead of just outright saying she was jealous, just not for romantic reasons. But who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️.

It was already mentioned earlier but I think Suzanne made a continuity error here, when Gale and Katniss mentioned fishing at the lake. The lake is a place Katniss explicitly mentioned in Catching Fire, to be private between her and her father. She even specially said she never took Gale there. I feel much better about my own writing continuity errors now.

Okay, both Katniss and Gale are so dumb. I would never prepare a feast for after the reaping. They’re just jinxing themselves. I have OCD really bad no one come for me.

I like how The Hob is a black market that’s literally just sitting in broad daylight 🤣🤣🤣.

Katniss just referenced being attacked by dogs... um I’m sorry, do we have no fear of rabies in this universe? 😭😭🙃🙃😐😐😅😅

Katniss : “me and the mayor’s daughter aren’t friends, we just hang out all the time at school, eat lunch together, sit by each other and are always partners. But weren’t not friends.” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I like the mention of hair ribbons for the rich girl. This is just the fic writer in me seeping into my reading.

Gale and Madge’s little dispute ...

I see why they get shipped together 😅. They’re both just taking swipes at each other here.

Awww, Katniss sticking up for Madge, even though Madge is the privileged one 😭. Katniss has such a pure heart.

The entire point of the Madge/Gale interaction though was just to set up the class divide explanation in Katniss’ head to the reader.

But my Peeta centric heart also picks up on the comments in Katniss’ head of how unlikely it is to be chosen at the reaping when you’re a town kid.

In other words, Peeta had a slim to none chance of being chosen and still was.

Now I think of it, so was Prim...

That was just an unlucky reaping for the kids without tesserae 🙃

Also it reminds me of every fic I ever read that mentioned a conspiracy in the reapings and how the kids aren’t actually chosen at random but anyways I digress

I feel Gale though, with the whole idea of knowing something isn’t this person’s fault and there’s nothing they could do but still being so angry at them because it isn’t fair that you have to suffer and they don’t.

My anger issues are really showing 😅😅😅.

Honestly though, if Katniss is saying Gale on a normal day is rational about the class divide not being merchants faults, then clearly his issues with Peeta later on really were just of jealousy and not because he was a merchant vs Seam.

I just feel like I’ve seen that around and I’m not really convinced

In my interpretation of the character, Katniss’ reasons for not sharing in Gale’s rage comes from exhaustion after a lifetime of powerlessness. Some people (re: females more often) just get worn out about the things they cannot change and can’t even let it get inside their brain because there’s nothing they could do about it.

I mean, she is a more understanding person than Gale but I feel like so much of her character is already so tired right from chapter one.

Okay, just a pointless rambling thought

“Where something pretty” these children are so shady 🤣🤣🤣 that’s a line I would say though

The fact that her like 42 year old mother still fits in a dress she wore at like 20 is really a testament to how hungry they are 🤧🤧🤧

Okay but I’m not trying to pick on her mother, but when they were starving, why did either she or Katniss sell the fancy clothes from her apothecary days? I’m nitpicking I know. I’m a nitpicker.

Also good for Katniss trying to forgive her mother.

God knows how hard it is for me to try and forgive people.

Literally, God knows.

I like that Katniss didn’t disagree with Prim saying she’s beautiful, just that she doesn’t usually look this way 😂😂😂.

I just know my sister wouldn’t let me not take tesserae if this was us. She’d be like “you’ll be fine, four entries? Please. We can have more food for an entire year, don’t be selfish.” 😅😅😅

I feel like noting that Katniss and Prim’s age gap isn’t that significant? Four years? That’s not that large. Not even at 12 and 16.

They herd these children off like they’re .... pigs going to a slaughter... 🤭🤭🤭

Katniss casually stating “I could be shot on a daily basis” 😐😐😐

Katniss and Gale agreeing they’d rather be shot than starve is honestly so sad but lowkey sounds like something two teenagers would say. They should have put dialogue like this in the movies.

I didn’t even remember District 12 has 8,000 people.... why’d I think they only had 3,000????

I need to update some of my fics with this information

Katniss just said “televised by the state”. I’ve never heard her call any region a state before?

I like that Katniss calls Effie’s grin scary and white, because tons of people (i.e me) whiten our teeth in today’s society. And to Katniss and probably all of Twelve that’s creepy. I think it’s weird to Europeans too but l digress.

Also do the people in this district brush and floss, they never seem to mention it in the books, ya know?

Honestly the idea of the hunger games sounded cooler without Songbirds and Snakes telling us it was just some dumb guy’s idea that no one ever thought would come true.

Aww, sugar is a delicacy 🤧🤧🤧

I knew already that but lemme fully feel that sentiment for a moment okey

Umm I’m sorry, did Mayor Undersee just casually state Lucy Gray Baird’s name every year and we never knew it? Did Snow just allow this? Seems suspish

Also the idea of Katniss being her distant relative and hearing the name and not knowing the connection... and yeah, anyways. I got wayyyy ahead of myself and off track sorry

Why would Haymitch hug Effie? I’m sorry, but Hayffie having a secret affair at some point in all the years they worked together seems more likely than I thought.

I mean, Katniss never mentions Haymitch hugging anyone besides her and Peeta when they just almost died, are about to die or that one time Katniss was sobbing because she thought Peeta was gonna die.

You know what though? I like that at this moment, when the name is about to be announced, Katniss worried about herself. She spends so much time worrying for her sister, babying her sister, mothering her sister, she deserves ten seconds of worrying for her own safety.

Of course, said sister is the one chosen. Ironic considering the whole encounter with Madge.

Okay, I think that concludes my thoughts for chapter one of The Hunger Games!

[itsshellybitch]

Envy

This probably isn't what you were expecting.

********

Shelly tried to tune out the chattering of her peers as the bus pulled away from school. For the first time in days, she didn't have detention and she was eager to get home.

Unfortunately, she couldn't help but overhear the discussion that two of her classmates were having in the seat behind her.

"Carrie has the best rack in our grade, dude! It's no contest!"

"I guess. But thirteen-year-old boobs aren't shit compared to... you know."

"You can say it. You Know Who is probably in detention again. I didn't see her get on the bus."

"Oh my God, Mrs. Marsh is so fucking hot! I heard that the sixth graders got a picture of her boobs! I want to motorboat that chick so bad!"

"Right? How the hell did that goddess give birth to such an ugly bitch!" At that, the two boys burst into laughter.

Normally, Shelly would have leapt over the seat and beaten those two turds bloody, but the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes and threatened to spill over made her think twice about that.

It was painful enough being surrounded by girls at school who were much prettier than she was, but hearing the boys drool over her own mother was almost too much for her to bear.

Shelly wanted nothing more than to be pretty. Hell, she would have even been content with being plain. Anything was better than the monster that looked back at her in the mirror every day.

Shelly was so busy brooding that she nearly missed her stop. She quickly exited the bus and trudged home.

"How was school?" Sharon asked absently, as Shelly walked through the living room.

"Fine," Shelly mumbled. She was in no mood for any idle chitchat, especially with her mother.

Sharon set her book aside. "Is something wrong, sweetie?"

Shelly took a good look at her mother. She was old. Ancient. She had tiny wrinkles around her brown eyes. Shelly thought that her own blue eyes, her only physical trait that she wasn't ashamed of, were much nicer.

Her hair makes her look manly, Shelly thought meanly. And her boobs are going to start sagging one of these days! She's not that great looking!

"NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Shelly stormed to her room, as Sharon looked on confusedly.

I hate her! Shelly thought furiously, slamming her door behind her. Why does she get to be pretty while I look like this? It's not fair!

Shelly took in her reflection in her mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her body was devoid of any curves. And worst of all, her headgear obscured most of her face and twisted her features, making her look like a villain in a slasher movie.

Shelly tore her mirror off the wall and hurled it through the window. Ignoring her mother's shrieking, she threw herself face down onto her bed.

[beardycarrot]

Alright! Now that I’ve finished Aliens Ate My Homework (kids’ books really are just a couple hour read for an adult, huh?), I have in mind some things that I think are important for the movie adaptation to stick to.

The look of the characters should be the easiest thing to nail... their outfits probably won’t match what’s described in the book (movies always feel the need to change that in some capacity), but I don’t really care about that. What I’m more interested in is how they portray the less humanoid characters. Pong, Grakker, and Snout can all be played by actors in costumes, but Tar Gibbons is described as having a lemon-shaped body with four legs, a long neck, and a turtle-like head with bulging bug eyes; that’s gonna be a fully CG character.

The other is Phil, a potted plant. Basically a big stalk covered in leaves and vines, with a flower where a head would be, who moves around with thrusters on his pot. He has a symbiotic relationship with creature called Plink, described as kind of a blue cat-monkey. I really like how this illustration portrays it; even if it looks more like some kind of cartoonie bug, I would be perfectly happy if this is the design the movie goes for. These two are also going to be fully CG, so unless they base it entirely on the description provided for Plink, base its design on an illustration from another artist, or just do their own thing with it, I can’t imagine them finding a way to mess these designs up... but who knows.

BKR, the evil alien, should be interesting. He’s described as having blue skin, pale orange spikes covering his head (I was picturing maybe a dozen four-inch-long spikes, but the spike density could also be interpreted as covering his head like hair), and... otherwise, looking like Shirley Temple? That’s gonna be interesting, but this is also the character I expect them to take the most liberties with. I can’t say why... maybe just from experience with this kind of adaptation.

There are a few major plot points that I think they have to adhere to. First, that the good aliens’ ship is malfunctioning (the illustrations portray the ship as a traditional flying saucer, but I don’t think the design matters much) and they’re stuck shrunken to two inches tall until the end. That’s... basically the only reason for Rod, the protagonist, to be involved. The aliens need to repair their ship, so Rod has to carry them around to investigate BKR.

Secondly, they need to eat his homework. It doesn’t have to be the papier mache volcano and math assignment portrayed in the book, but, I mean, it IS the title of the movie.

Grakker and Snout have an unspecified relationship... Snout is very, VERY clearly based on Spock from Star Trek (in fact, I think the third book in this series is called The Search for Snout, a play on the third Star Trek movie, The Search for Spock), so it might just be a close friendship, but they share a room on the ship while everyone else has their own, so who knows. At one point it’s mentioned that they’re “bonded”. Potentially Gayliens. I don’t remember what their relationship is like in later books.

Next, Rod is incapable of lying. There definitely won’t be a flashback to the traumatizing-to-a-toddler reason for it, but that’s Rod’s defining characteristic: he doesn’t, and can’t, tell lies. Who knows whether that will be included.

Finally, Rod’s dad having been missing for quite a while isn’t a huge part of the story, but it does play an important role. Him lying to Rod’s mom strengthened Rod’s inability to lie (you’re not told what the lie was, but it’s implied that this was the night he left), and towards the end of the story BKR claims to know where he went, and implies that he’s no longer on Earth. I don’t remember if this is a plot point in future books, but Bruce Coville did something pretty similar in My Teacher Flunked The Planet, so it could be. This is the kind of thing that adaptations will just arbitrarily change, though, so who knows.

So! With all that out of the way, it’s time to watch the movie!

...Okay, first thing’s first, the opening credits of the movie are set to shots of a model solar system, so I’m assuming that’s the replacement for the volcano. I’ll allow it. Also, William Shatner is in this movie? What? As who?? The only adult male character in the story is an android of a man in his thirties, and he’s only there for what would amount to two minutes of screen time at the end. Rod’s grandfather is mentioned, but only once, in the context of “this is my grandfather’s farmland”.

Alright, definitely a modern setting. I guess the model isn’t for a science fair, instead being something Rod’s filming on his smartphone with his mom, twin siblings, and... his dad. Now, this looked like is was going to be an adaptation fail, but it turns out this was a flashback to the night he went missing. Clever!

Less clever is this abysmal color grading meant to represent a dark and stormy night, and the fact that they live in a cul-de-sac instead of being out in the middle of some farmland... but that’s not that significant of a change.

For some reason the story now takes place in the winter instead of mid-May, making me wonder where BKR (in the guise of Billy Becker) is getting the bugs to smash against Rod’s head. More importantly, as revealed at the end of the book, most intelligent life in the universe is about three feet tall, which is why BKR is pretending to be a kid while hiding on Earth. Instead of being a foot shorter than Rod, however, he’s now taller. Weird. Rod also now has his cousin Elspeth staying with his family for winter break, for... literally no reason that I can think of. Elspeth is a character from the second book in the series, but she wasn’t even mentioned in the first.

Grakker isn’t quite book-accurate, but not entirely inaccurate either... except for the color of his skin. He’s supposed to be green. What the hell. They whitewashed an alien. On the upside, the dialog in this scene is all pretty book-accurate. Unfortunately, they lose a lot of points with Madame Pong, who is supposed to be a very calm, understanding, zen character... but comes across as a little condescending. Also, this:

What? What?? Why did they keep this book dialog, when the house is VERY CLEARLY part of some kind of housing development area? I legitimately have no idea what they were thinking.

I also have no idea what’s going on here. Elspeth is... I guess looking through family photos on a computer? Ignore the subtitles, that’s from a weather report on tv. What I’m curious about is what exactly is going on in the photo. That’s clearly Rod’s dad, from three years ago... but recent pictures of the twins? Did Rod’s mom, who apparently runs a pet photography business, Photoshop a family ski trip that never happened? Is that what’s being implied here??

We’re then introduced to the rest of the aliens, and... wow, I can’t describe my disappointment. Remember how I said Tar Gibbons and Phil would be fully CG characters? Yeah, that, uhh... that didn’t happen. I was hoping they would do as much of this movie with practical effects as possible, but I meant that in the “get good SFX people” way, not the “do everything as cheaply as possible” way. They’re literally both just guys in suits.

Yeah sure eye stalks and a thick neck are absolutely the same thing as bulging eyes and a long neck. More importantly, look at that clearly human body with extra legs just kinda hanging off the hips. Phil is just as bad. You can’t really tell from still frames, but yeah, he has two vines with leaves coming off of his human-body-proportioned stalk at shoulder level and moves like a guy in a suit... and for some reason, his flower is split into halves so that it can be puppeteered to move like a mouth. Despite the fact that in the book his flower doesn’t even play a part in communication. They could’ve easily just installed a light inside the flower and explained that he communicates through pod burps, and would’ve been perfectly book-accurate. Why make this specific change. Also, if you’ve read this far, you’re probably wondering where Snout is. Yeah, uh. Me too.

Anyway, they appear to have combined the characters of BKR and Arnie into one person to simplify things (but then why introduce Elspeth??), and for no readily apparent reason, changed BKR, which is pronounced how you would expect, into B’KR, pronounced... b’car. For no reason.

Good GOD is this movie cheap. I appreciate the set they created for the top of Rod’s desk, with the giant pencil and such, and obviously they’re going to use a green screen for scenes like this... but it looks SO bad in motion. Like, see how the shot ends at his knees? That’s because he’s very obviously running in place, in front of a green screen. Also, why are sixth graders learning about the Drake Equation, which concerns the statistics relevant to intelligent alien life in the universe, in math class? I guess it’s technically a math topic, but not the kind of thing you’d learn in pre-algebra...and for comparison, Rod’s math homework consisted of single-digit multiplication tables, the kind of thing you do in like, second grade.

I’m also not fond of the degree to which Grakker is a comic relief character. Like... throughout the book, he’s completely strict and serious, and most of the comedy comes from Phil, Gibbons, and Rod. The first time you see genuine emotion from him is when Rod accidentally injures Snout, causing Grakker to hold him tenderly and shed a tear (again, potential Gayliens).

This is supposed to be the inside of a thick black canvas backpack. Am I crazy? Did I not see the Universal Studios logo at the start of this movie? Why does it look like the cheapest of cheap made-for-tv movies? Anyway. They appear to have given Snout’s ability to slow time to Madame Pong, which is worrying. Did they just... remove Snout, one of most important characters in the entire book series? To what end? To fit in all the stupid pointless Elspeth stuff? If they were hoping to make sequels to this movie, well... bad news, because again, the third book in the series is called The Search for Snout. Okay, I gotta know, is he actually cut from the movie or just a surprise reveal for later?

Alright, I am now officially dragging this movie. Also, I guess we now know where William Shatner fits in... I hadn’t even noticed it was him. Also Also, is that furry pink lump with one eye supposed to be Plink? Why all the arbitrary changes? Did they just decide that since they couldn’t fit a person inside of it, they would give it no limbs at all? Why is it pink??

Eyyy. Roll credits! Yeah, I wish... I’m only halfway through this thing.

They made Rod’s best friend Mickey Asian, which is fine, he’s a very minor character and never really described in the book... but unfortunately, they also decided to make him Data from The Goonies. He’s an inventor. Because he’s Asian. Coooool character, movie. So far it’s lead to an unfunny Coke and Mentos gag and an unfunny Pop Rocks and soda gag (which resulted in projectile vomiting). They cut Snout out of the movie to make room for this stuff, mind you. I’m sure this is building up to some kind of payoff, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to enjoy it.

Speaking of payoffs, there seems to be an implication that there’s some kind of paranormal activity at Seldom Seen, the hidden field on Rod’s grandfather’s property, and at Rod’s school. I can understand the field, in this version Rod’s dad definitely seems to be involved with aliens in some capacity, and that’s probably where he was keeping a ship or something... but the school is kinda inexplicable. Like, it’s covered in snow... and it’s the only place in town that’s seeing snow. I can only assume it’s BKR’s... sorry, B’KR’s doing, but I’m not sure why. Did they decide that being blue means he’s from a cold planet, and requires it to be cold wherever he is?

No idea what’s up with some of these changes. Instead of BKR’s house being like an unlived-in model home, it’s... a complete sty. The exact opposite of the book. Why. Also, that coffee table is completely covered in video game consoles... GameCube, Dreamcast, PS2, N64... but Rod says he’s got “all the latest video games”. Does he? Does he really? Was that line in the script, so the crew just bought whatever they could find? As for BKR himself...

I mean, I don’t see Shirley Temple, but it’s not bad! Rod wasn’t trapped inside a pocket dimension inside a CRT tv when he took his mask off, but they wouldn’t have been able to manage that scene with this budget anyway. So far, this is the only alien design I fully endorse. There WAS a point to him having a cherubic face in the book, but it’s never addressed, only implied, and I get why they would make him look more menacing.

In the book, BKR didn’t really have any goals. He just enjoyed being cruel for the sake of being cruel, and was hiding out on Earth because it was unlikely they’d find him there. In the movie, B’KR intends to destroy Earth by opening a wormhole (which is what’s causing the snow), and the good guys have about an hour to save the planet.

They kept another of Snout’s abilities, the Vulcan Mind Mel-- er, knowledge transferal, but gave it to Tar Gibbons. This is literally the only thing he’s done in the entire movie. For the record, this was originally the scene where Snout connects their minds, but Rod is startled by it and pulls back, causing Snout severe psychic harm and prompting the aforementioned emotional response from Grakker.

...They just had to get William Shatner to say Klingon, didn’t they. The climax of the movie is all him flying around spouting (sprouting?) plant puns, then Rod throws a banana cream pie (which was, apparently, part of someone’s science project) at BKR’s face... and finishes him off with foam shot from his papier mache volcano. I guess the shrunken spaceship expanding inside of a house, causing the roof to collapse and knock BKR unconscious, was too expensive violent for the movie... but why is getting him messy a solution to anything? Ah well.

Bruce Coville himself has a cameo as the judge for the science fair, which is nice. I think he might be the principal of the school... I didn’t really notice in the scene featuring the principal earlier, since that happened to be the projectile vomiting scene. I can only imagine he was honored to have his work recognized in this capacity... he’s a good dude, I’m sure he wouldn’t be as horrified as I am with the writing and quality of it.

Also the movie ends with the reveal of the actual size of the aliens... which is, uhh. About the size of adult humans. Hrm. Guess they just straight up decided not to get anything right, huh? Oh, and they reveal that Rod’s father actually is a member of the Galactic Patrol. So, that’s a thing.

Please don’t say that. God, was this movie bad. I would understand if they were passionate about bringing the story to more people and just didn’t have much of a budget, or if they made changes to better suit a visual medium, but that... is not what they did. I’m not the kind of person that demands an adaptation remains 100% faithful; if you want the experience of the book, you can just read the book. This, however, changes so many things. Like, in the book, BKR’s crime is cruelty. That’s the message of the book... that in truly civilized societies, kindness is the norm, and needless cruelty is a criminal act.

The characters in the book all either have depth to them or are interesting as sci-fi concepts, but the movie... Gakker is Mr. Slapstick, Madame Pong is Cool Collected Female, Tar Gibbons is... I dunno, wisdom obscured by things that just don’t translate into English and saying Warrior Science a lot (honestly the closest to his book counterpart, though HE was more interesting and actually did stuff), and Phil... yeah, just William Shatner saying plant puns. Bleagh.

Well, despite that end screen, it’s good to know that we won’t be getting any sequels. I mean, like I’ve already mentioned, Snout going missing is a major plot point in the second book, and the third is literally called The Search For Snout. What are they going to do, just skip to the fourth book?

...Oh hey, George Takei.

[ashleyspinelliburnbook]

S1E7: I Will Kick No More Forever/The Kid Came Back

It was bound to happen eventually, but these two were...not as good as the others? I don’t know, y’all. I didn’t feel fulfilled or inspired watching this pair of episodes. But I tried...for one of them, anyway.

I Will Kick No More Forever

Well, okay, there was one inspiring thing. Gretchen and Gus doing commentary for the kickball games made me think they should probably do a podcast together. So here’s a sports podcast that happens to be about the plot of this episode!

(I’m just going to write this all at once and see what happens. I have only ever written TV scripts, so I’m just winging it. Forgive me.)

GRETCHEN: I’m Gretchen Grundler.

GUS: And I’m Gus Griswald.

GRETCHEN: And this is “I am in Sports.”

[theme music]

[theme music fades]

[nat sound: kickball noises]

GRETCHEN: Kickball. Or as it’s known in most of Canada, “soccer baseball.” A sport of humble origins, and today, one of the most popular recess games in the United States.

GUS: You might not know all the names of some of the great kickballers in the storied history of the sport, but today, we’d like to introduce you to one in particular who took the playground by storm.

[nat sound fades]

ANNOUNCER (SOT): “Here comes Vince ‘The Foot’ LaSalle!”

ANNOUNCER 2 (SOT): “Kicks lefty, throws righty...”

ANNOUNCER 3 (SOT): “And that ball’s not coming back! A home run!”

ANNOUNCER 4 (SOT): “The undisputed, single greatest kicker that Third Street School has ever seen.”

GRETCHEN: Vince LaSalle. A fourth-grader in name only, he made everyone from kindergarteners to sixth-graders quiver in their kickball shoes whenever he stepped up to the plate.

GUS: His trajectory was storied. He was the only known kindergartener in Third Street School history to be invited to play with the first-grade kickball team, and by second grade, he was challenging sixth-graders to play.

GRETCHEN: This confidence was impressive. Inspiring, even. But it wasn’t meant to last.

VINCE (SOT): “Okay, everyone! Outfield in!”

GRETCHEN: It was a regular Tuesday, bottom of the ninth inning. Recess would be over in about two minutes. Ashley Q. was at the plate, fresh off a phone call, and Vince made the call to bring the outfield in.

GUS: It would be the last time anyone on the playground would trust him for a long time.

ANNOUNCER 5 (SOT): “That ball is up! And up! And up! Good golly, that ball is gone! It’s out of this world! Ashley Q., ladies and gentlemen!”

- SOT -

VINCE (on phone): “It was...horrible.”

GUS: “Horrible?”

VINCE: “When you make a call like that, bringing the outfield in, bringing everyone in, you don’t...that’s not what’s supposed to happen.”

GUS: “What is supposed to happen?”

VINCE: “Well, the opposite of that.”

- END SOT -

GRETCHEN: The next day, Third Street School received a long distance call — very long-distance. This call was from a busy street in Beijing, China.

PRINCIPAL PRICKLY (SOT, on phone): “They said they found our ball. I was like, what? What ball? And the man on the phone explained, you know, your ball. It says your school’s name right here.”

GRETCHEN: Ashley Q. had recorded the longest kick the school had ever seen. And Vince? Well, he didn’t take it so well.

- SOT -

VINCE (on phone): “I just started whiffing.”

GUS: “Whiffing?”

VINCE: “Everything. Just, missing everything. The next game, you know, the ball would be rolled to me just like usual. Kicked it right back into the pitcher’s hands. Kicked it foul. Missed it entirely.”

GUS: “What about after that game?”

VINCE: [sighs] “You know what’s worse than being picked last?”

GUS: “Not really. I’m picked last a lot.”

VINCE: “Have you ever not been picked at all?”

GUS: “Wow, no. How did that make you feel?”

VINCE: [laughs] “Well, after that, I left the sport.”

- END SOT -

[brooding music]

VINCE (SOT): “I am announcing my retirement from kickball. I will kick no more, forever.”

[brooding music fades]

GRETCHEN: Vince was distraught. Even though he was sure in his decision to leave the sport he loved, he didn’t take the transition well.

GUS: We visited him after school one day — a day he’d missed, we weren’t sure why — and found him in front of the TV, drinking root beer and eating doughnuts. It wasn’t pretty.

GRETCHEN: He kept repeating something, we didn’t know what at first. We tried to ask him to speak more slowly, articulate, enunciate. And then Gus finally figured it out.

GUS: “I was outkicked by an Ashley.” Over and over again. Just...gut punch.

[SFX - EXPLOSION]

- SOT -

GRETCHEN: “So we are...in my bedroom right now. Me, Gus, TJ, everyone. And I just showed them [crash in background] — Guys, what was that?”

TJ: “Sorry. Lost control of the Flubber again.”

GRETCHEN: “Glorp. It’s called glorp.”

TJ: “Yeah, whatever it is, it’s awesome. This should do the trick.”

- END SOT -

GUS: It was supposed to be a science fair project, right?

GRETCHEN: Yes, it was one of my attempts to invent a substance to replace liquid soap. But what I got instead was a bouncy...well...glorp.

GUS: And remind me what the plan was?

GRETCHEN: The plan was to create a diversion and switch out the kickball with the glorp ball. It’s much easier to kick, and it goes a lot farther. We just wanted to give Vince his confidence back, even if we had to bend the truth a little to do it.

GUS: My job was to switch the ball after Mikey and TJ created the diversion, from the kickball to the glorp ball.

[spy music]

- SOT -

MIKEY: “My foot! My foot!”

TJ: “Mikey! Are you okay? Can you play?”

MIKEY: “No! But if I don’t play, you’ll have to forfeit!”

TJ: “I’m sure there’s someone else we can use.”

- END SOT -

[spy music fade]

GRETCHEN: [laughing] Okay, it was a bad plan. It was not the best plan. But it worked.

ANNOUNCER 6 (SOT): “What’s this? Vince LaSalle, disgraced kickballer, appears to be coming out of retirement to replace the injured Mikey!”

TJ (SOT, on phone): “I was just trying to tell him, like, ‘If you don’t kick, we’ll lose the game,’ and he goes, ‘Yeah, well, get used to it.’ And I go, ‘Well, the only thing that makes you a loser is not trying.’ And it did the trick.”

ANNOUNCER 6 (SOT, CONT.): “He’s kicking righty today, maybe a revamped routine to make this try at his career go a little better, and...Oh my! Oh my word! That ball is gone! It’s in the stratosphere! It’s past the stratosphere! Where is that ball! No one knows, but Vince LaSalle has done it! He’s won the game!”

GRETCHEN: Here’s the thing. We all felt incredibly guilty after the fact. Because it was just the glorp ball. It wasn’t Vince. And still, we couldn’t tell him. But then it turned out we didn’t have to tell him.

GUS: I remember this moment so well. I was running back from the bathroom, wondering why the game was over.

GRETCHEN: And we were wondering why you were out of breath. You weren’t the one who had just kicked the ball into parts unknown. But then we learned the reason was...

GUS: I didn’t make the switch. I went to the bathroom, left the glorp ball outside, and when I came back, it was gone.

GRETCHEN: Vince had done it all on his own. His confidence was real.

[SOT - “Vince! Vince! Vince!”]

GRETCHEN: The world’s greatest kickballer was back in business.

[fade SOT]

[theme music]

- SOT -

[phone rings]

PRINCIPAL PRICKLY: “Hello?”

HAROLD STEVENS: “Hey, Principal Prickly, this is Harold Stevens at NASA. Look, I just wanted to reach out and say we won’t be charging you for the damage because this seems like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

PRICKLY: “Excuse me? Damage? What did those kids get up to this time?”

STEVENS: “Oh, well, the kickball dent on the space shuttle. It won’t be a problem.”

PRICKLY: “What?”

[click]

- END SOT -

[theme music fades]

Takeaway: I need a Gus and Gretchen podcast YESTERDAY.

The Kid Came Back

Look, everyone. The previous recap was so long, and I don’t want to overshadow it by going too deep into this one. This episode was just...a baby thriller, you know what I mean? All the elements of a creepy story tailor-made for kids, but absolutely no payoff. It was an insult, frankly.

In short, a kid no one has seen before starts following the gang around, and bad things start happening to them. They decide it’s because of the kid, so they tell him to buzz off, and he starts crying. The gang’s takeaway is that, oops, our bad luck wasn’t caused by this kid! And so they go apologize, and then they learn he has other friends anyway. The lesson is not to tell kids to buzz off...or so we thought, until another mysterious girl shows up at the very end and the gang runs away from her immediately so as to not engage. We never learn what’s causing their bad luck.

Just...skip this one. I hope the next one is better and that we’re not rolling down an infinitely long hill. Who haven’t we checked in with in a while? Have we had a TJ-centered episode yet? I’d be fine with that.

Takeaway: I need to tighten up my scriptwriting so I don’t run out of steam before even getting the chance to make fun of a bad episode, lol.

[alyssastarlight]

Title: Sweet Like Candy to My Soul Author: Nikayla For: @gaycrouton, the Valentine’s Fic Exchange on Twitter Pairing: Mulder/Scully, MSR Set During: Season 4 cancer arc, though there’s very little acknowledgment of it Word Count: 4,900 Rating: M/NC-17

She swallows thickly and he can hear the faint smack of her lips when they part to take another breath. Suddenly he’s fascinated by those lips. Wholly immersed in their plumpness; the flush of their coloring, the shine left behind when she nervously licks along her top lip. Even more suddenly he’s consumed by a need to touch those lips, his hand reaching her face before he’s entirely realized the whim — fingers skimming along her jawline as his thumb whispers underneath the protrusion of her full bottom lip. Her mouth closes on an ‘M’ that doesn’t end up forming anything more.

A/N: I’m horrible at following prompts but I hope this will fulfill your v-day wishes regardless. The concept came to me in that place between awake and sleep and developed itself pretty much against my will and I hope that you and everyone else will like it. Happy Valentine’s Day! ATTHS!

FF.NET | AO3

What a way to spend Valentine’s Day. Not that it really amounted to anything that different from how he normally spent it, with no girlfriend to speak of. But being caught in a blizzard at the tail end of a lackluster case, forced to stay holed up in a motel room when stepping foot outside ran the risk of coming back with icicles for eyelashes was still fairly low on his list of fantasy holidays. Were it not for the redhead whose room his adjoined to, he might have actually gone completely stir-crazy here, in a town he’d never have chosen to visit otherwise. But about said redhead.

On Hour 5 of their forced confinement there was a small rap at the door separating their rooms, the ravishing creature responsible inviting him in to hers to go over the field report she’d been typing away at. It was a welcome reprieve from flipping through the three different channels he’d managed to pull in, each one not much more than a snowy reflection of the blustering weather just outside.

Entering her room he was greeted by a handful of new sensations. The room was warm; probably no more than his but it had a sort of inviting air to it that his stale quarters lacked. Though that may have had more to do with the room’s inhabitant than whatever temperature she’d set her thermostat to. Second, the room smelled infinitely better. Again, something easily attributed more to his partner herself, as there were no candles, incense or the like around to have accounted for it otherwise. And then — there she was.

Casual Scully wasn’t something he got to experience very often. Even in a presumably casual setting she was still often found in a tailored jacket at the very least, if not a full-blown FBI regulation suit. Doing a very unregulated job of hugging her in ways he shouldn’t let himself take note of, but was guilty of nonetheless. But here in Nowhere, North Dakota, stuck in a crappy motel, Casual Scully had made her way out since he’d last spoken to her.

Wearing leggings and an old chopped up t-shirt, with her hair half clipped out of her face; a few wayward pieces breaking free to dance at her cheekbones, though he could hardly fault them for that. It was an indiscretion he himself had been guilty of; breaking away from propriety at times, indulging himself in sweeping the backs of his fingers along her cheek, hidden beneath a guise of either comfort or kindness — brushing a strand of hair from her face before she’s even noticed it had fallen out of line. Casual Scully made it more difficult than usual to resist staring, his gaze lingering in all kinds of ways inappropriate for interoffice partnerships. It was this fact that led him to notice her ten little red painted toes — the only sign he could see of her acknowledging the occasion.

As he surveyed the rest of the room he noted the mat set out just beyond the foot of the bed. She’d taken up yoga a number of weeks before — she’d told him as much, but this was his first actual glimpse into her new ritual. “I was just about to do some stretches,” she mentions offhandedly, before doing a much less off-handed job of whipping her t-shirt over her head, revealing a sports bra to match her workout bottoms. “Be my guest,” his voice does a terrible job at parroting her tone, sounding deeper and fuller than intended; though thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice.

Retiring to the relative safety of the table in the corner of the room, her report left open on her laptop’s screen for him, he once again took the opportunity to spend more time watching her than paying attention to the work in front of him. He looked on with a kind of silent fascination — watching her small but strong form leading itself from one stretch into the next; muscle molding beneath skin. The vision she presented proved far more enticing than words on a screen, and he indulged himself deeper into this welcome distraction.

“Mulder?” Her voice rings out, and he’s certain he’s caught; that the old pretending to read a file gag has failed him. As fate would have it, he’s safe, with her gaze still angled away from him while his has lingered both inconspicuous and yet carelessly — he’s read maybe 12 words of this file and none have been subsequent. “Can you tell me if my back is straight?” She sounds forthright yet idyllic; an odd combination given the situation, but he’s not one to question it.

“Pretty close.” He answers quick, too quick — too obvious that he hadn’t just looked up when she spoke but had been following closely along as she moved from stretch to stretch. He has no idea their names but he can recall in perfect clarity exactly how she looked in each of them.

“Can you adjust me?”

A lump threatens to overtake his throat at her request, strangling his voice before he can cover it with a cough. “Shr—uhum—Sure Scully.” Moving to join her, kneeling just beside her prone form, he’s all at once taken aback by just how small she is. Tough as nails, his Scully, and yet no bigger than a sixth grader. Her size betrays her strength, he knows. He’s witnessed it. He could even say he’s witnessing it now, as she holds herself in a plank position, muscles taut and straining but strong; powerful. He knows she could knock him out if she ever wanted to. Hell, sometimes he wishes she actually would.

“Am I close?” Once again she pulls him back from whatever internal fantasy he can’t seem to let go of; her voice holding a focused innocence his can scarcely claim.

“You tell me.” Having overcome the lump, he sounds more wanton than anticipated. “Sorry...bad joke.” Deciding it would be best to move things along quickly before she can have a reaction, he finally takes in her position from a — fleetingly — objective mind. The next stretch requires a straight back, he tells himself clinically; easy enough. A warm hand lands against her and he marvels momentarily at this new perspective. He’s touched her here almost every day and yet seeing it — seeing the way his hand almost spans her right the way across, how fair and soft she is beneath her suits, the faint smattering of freckles that decorate the area... He doesn’t realize just how long he’s fallen silent; staring, cataloging, until her voice shakes him back to reality once more. “Mulder?”

“Sorry,” he mutters absentmindedly, and moves on to the task at hand.

He’s gentle with her — not that he needs to be; but the compulsion is there all the same. He’s delicate as he maneuvers each area, setting her shoulders just so, pressing softly against her mid-back to correct the slightly convex curvature there. Reaching her lower back again he is struck just as he’d been the first time, summarily distracted from his task of righting her spine’s position; lost within the creamy expanse of Scully skin. He feels more than hears her intake of breath when his fingertips gently wander down her vertebrae, re-misaligning her upper back, requiring he correct it once again.

“Sorry.” She mimics him from before, and her voice holds a quality he somehow can’t quite pinpoint; a borderline somewhere between distraction and...something else. Continuing where he left off, he passes over her lower back, memorizing the curve without the hindrance of fabric to interrupt his mapping of her. Her spine is slightly bowed here, dipped inward from the posture she’s trying to achieve; and he realizes the only way to actually right this is to reach beneath her, palming her stomach to ease her into alignment. He leaves one hand behind to provide a counterbalance, the other bracing itself just over her navel, feeling the rigidity in her abdominal muscles as he finishes repositioning her.

“Looks good to me.” There’s no way to disguise the way his voice has lowered since he last spoke; an all too obvious indication of what touching her could do to a man. He can’t help noting how she looks to be fairing no better, with a slight tremor visible in her stance as she attempts to control her breath. “Thank you.” Her voice shakes just as perceptibly as she is; slight, but it’s there. She holds the stretch for a thirty count, and he’s made no move to leave her side even when she’s finished. She drops a knee to the mat and lets out a languished breath, then turns to sit facing him. Neither has said a word for the last minute or more, and electric molecules buzz in the air like the flurries just outside her window.

She swallows thickly and he can hear the faint smack of her lips when they part to take another breath. Suddenly he’s fascinated by those lips. Wholly immersed in their plumpness; the flush of their coloring, the shine left behind when she nervously licks along her top lip. Even more suddenly he’s consumed by a need to touch those lips, his hand reaching her face before he’s entirely realized the whim — fingers skimming along her jawline as his thumb whispers underneath the protrusion of her full bottom lip. Her mouth closes on an ‘M’ that doesn’t end up forming anything more.

Her eyes are deadly focused on his, though his own have taken up a residence alongside his thumb for the time being. He watches diligently at the way her lip gives under the insistent pressing of his thumb; her breath a hot little cloud moistening the digit along with her lips. Growing braver or perhaps just more foolish, he moves up, to fully experience the satiny impact of her lip head on — feeling her breath shake all the while she allows him this great indulgence. And indulge he does.

“What made you take up yoga?” He asks as though he isn’t currently tracing his partner’s uniquely perfect pout. But a very unpartner-like behavior only breeds more unpartner-like conduct. She swallows again, the action parting her lips once more; though his thumb has still yet to leave their pillowy expanse, simply moving back to outlining the brim of her lower lip once more. His fingers have taken up a more serious attachment to her jawline, and he makes no indication of removing them to make this any easier on her. He can see the mix of shock dancing in her eyes — shock at what he’s doing, perhaps even shock at herself for so freely allowing what he’s doing, and shock that he’s chosen this moment to ask about her exercise habits.

She swallows again and he can feel the sensation just below his fingertips where they graze against her throat. Her lips look as though she’s going to question him. ‘Mulder what are you doing?’, ‘Mulder why are you touching me like this?’, ‘Mulder why haven’t I stopped you?’. He silently prepares himself for — he wouldn’t call it rejection, but it will certainly end up feeling that way. He’s in this just as she is; shock mixing around his mind, at his own audacity, brazenness, at her lack of rebuff until now. But she surprises him yet again — her voice coming out with what looks like a great effort to remain unaffected, but ending up sounding altogether very, very affected.

“It was suggested to me...” His Scully is stronger than any man or woman he’s ever known. Her fortitude astounds him almost daily, but no more than it does in this moment. Perhaps later he’ll tell himself it was that fortitude that spurred him on — a voiceless challenge to rattle those fortifications, push past those braces before she shores herself up impenetrably. Yes that must be the reason he finds himself tugging her closer, his hand having moved to the back of her neck before he fully realizes it; but how can anyone expect anything of him when he’s just felt the first brush of contact of her lips and his? She draws in a quick gasp of breath at the connection, which he’s almost certain amounted to little more than drawing in his exhale; CO2 invading her lungs as his tongue makes its first bid at invading her mouth.

All at once she lets him, even meets him halfway; her tongue colliding with the wet intrusion of his — a first kiss to end all others. It’s slow and soft, yet achingly erotic. This suddenly sensual creature before him never fails to surprise him. Thinking back he could argue that she’s always been sensual — wholly feminine, more beautiful than he’d allow himself to acknowledge — never wanting to reduce her to a mere sensual being, when she was that and so, so so much more; most especially to him. But the kiss — the kiss cements her in his mind as an utterly beautiful, utterly sensual woman. He’ll be hard-pressed to extract her in any other state now, with the way her hands have suddenly clutched into his t-shirt, leveraging herself closer to him; he’ll be hard-pressed indeed.

“Mulder...” his name finally makes it out, but not like he expected. It isn’t ‘Mulder what are you doing?’ it’s ‘Mulder keep doing what you’re doing or I’ll shoot you again.’ Okay maybe not exactly that, but his mind has a mind of its own now and it’s decidedly run away with him. Taken whatever it was that held him back from her for this long and blown it sky high. His hands reach for her waist and pull her in a swift, clean motion; her slight weight flying across the short distance between them until she’s in his lap, knees pressed in to the carpet and lips at a much better angle for him to kiss. She draws in another quick breath at the relocation, but seems just as appreciative to be closer now than just in arm’s reach. Her hands are in his hair and she’s flush against his chest, and she’s just as intent on keeping this going as he is.

A soft, little sound escapes her lips and goes right to his groin. A moan, you idiot — his brain tells him late. You just made Dana Scully moan with a kiss. The realization suddenly brings a smile to his lips, which makes a momentary mess of their kiss. But then she’s smiling too, as though his were infectious and she’s caught it — lock, stock, and barrel. The only cure is to kiss her deeper, drawing another mewling sound from her throat, which makes the same trek downwards just as her hips shift above him. They both feel it — the palpable inevitability of what comes next if they don’t stop this now. His heart lurches at the thought of stopping anything they’re doing right now, and she must sense it; allaying his fear in a single phrase.

“Bed now.”

Her words come out fast, almost too fast for him to register initially. He hears them late, but his body seems to have a mind of its own too; already having gathered her up, mere milliseconds from depositing her on the bed before it registers that this is what she asked for — her body receiving his with a contented sigh. Her legs wrap around his waist and he’s trapped; locked in to her embrace and he’s never felt better, safer, more accepted than he does in this moment. Scully has always accepted him, accepted his faults, his penchant for running off; she hates it but she accepts it all the same. She doesn’t seem to be hating this now though, when he rolls his hips and makes contact against her, she certainly doesn’t seem to be hating this at all.

The friction throws a wrench into their otherwise picture-perfect kiss. They have a rhythm developed already; born perhaps out of dancing around one another so close for so long — it’s instinctive. They know when the other needs a breath, and when breath is the least of their priorities. A kiss; deep, and long, is of much greater importance right now, and he’s chosen then to throw her off her game. Her fingers clench tighter into his hair, as though to steady herself — he’s caused yet another misalignment from touching her this way, and it’s his responsibility alone to fix it.

Without warning he breaks the kiss completely; her eyes fling open and her breath dislodges from her chest on a sudden outward journey. But it’s just as quickly pulled back in; his lips have only relocated — dropped to her throat to do a more than satisfactory job of kissing her there. He feels her begin to melt beneath his ministrations, turning to magma beneath his lips; molten hot and percolating at his touch. She is in sharp contrast to the rage of weather still outside; all but trapping them here, and at least partly responsible for setting this in motion.

His hands finally take initiative to do the same; moving from her waist to engulf her breasts, causing another moan to plant itself in her throat, and her teeth to bury themselves in her kiss-swollen lip to prevent it from fully surfacing. This only proves to spur him on more. He wants that moan — wants to hear it full force; feel it vibrate his very being and know he was the cause. He finds her nipples through Lycra fabric, kneads at them with his thumbs as his hips drive into hers on a soft roll; and that does it. The moan breaks free and she clutches him tighter. The moan sounds like his name and when he repeats the motion again, it is. “Mulder.”

He decides then and there his name has never sounded better, and likely never will again.

She begins to writhe beneath him, growing impatient and only more aroused the longer he takes to give her anything more than petting through material. But he isn’t quite done with it yet. One hand leaves her breast, much to her dismay. She tells him of such with an impatient whimper and an almost painful grasp of his hair. It turns to speaking when his hand moves between her legs; a supplication to God himself, and he’s almost tickled that he’s caused her to bring Him in to this.

He strokes at her clothen center — the scorch of her emanating through the layers still between them, bordering on incendiary. She writhes again and her hand joins the one still at her breast, grapples at him until he grips her tighter; a vision of desperation he will never get out of his head. He decides suddenly, to put her out of her misery. His hand slinks past elastic and cotton, and finally touches the flaming ember between her thighs. Three large fingers stoke her very core, eliciting the most beautiful moan he thinks he’s ever heard; three parts pleasure one part repose — it says finally, something more substantial.

The pads of his fingers run up and down the length of her, yet to focus on one place. For the time being it seems to be enough for her; as she lets her soft, mewling sounds leave her lips freely now, and tells him in a kind of Morse code through her tightening and loosening grip on his hair when and where it feels just right.

“Get this off.” He plucks at the perimeter of her sports bra, suddenly aware that he has still yet to see her breasts and that that simply won’t do. He sits up just enough to give her the room required to remove it but not so much as to break the connection of his hand between her legs. She seems most appreciative of that fact, and rewards him with a cross of her arms and a tug of fabric; the bra is lost beyond the bed and her breasts are finally free — her panting breath causing them to rise and fall gently, somehow making them appear even more enticing. “God Scully.” It’s the only reaction that comes to mind. Give it up to the big man, if he really is up there; if he really is responsible for these perfect, cherry-tipped breasts before him.

His hand returns to her first — molding along her flesh in a way he’d be lying if he said he never thought of doing before this moment. But as most merely imagined things are, it’s better than he ever could have predicted. She’s soft but firm under his hand; warm, welcoming flesh accepting his touch ardently. She flushes under the weight of his gaze and grasp on her — a pretty, pink tinge trailing out across her skin. But despite the blushed hue she is still his immutable partner. “Need this off you.” She grabs for his t-shirt and he’s forced to let go of her to aid in her removing of it. It’s narrowly out of sight before she’s clutching at his flesh, dragging him back down to her; to her waiting chest and lips. Her hands encircle as much of his back as she can reach, fingers press in to lines of muscle and tendon, and the nails of one hand light sparks along his scalp — actions all intended to draw him close, closer; keep him there, keep him kissing her — as if he would stop unless it were her express wish that he did.

His thumb sweeps along the side of her face, this time needing no excuse or wayward tendril to do so. She hums in contented recognition of the overt tenderness of the gesture; kisses him earnestly, matches him equal in her tenderness, as though he deserves nothing less. His heart clinches momentarily, at the thought that she could love him. That on this day of love and bad greeting cards she’d choose to receive the former from him, and return him hers in commensurate measure. He peppers kisses along her cheeks, her jaw; drawing a giggle out of her the likes of which he’s never heard. He can’t resist retracing his steps to kiss her effervescent mouth — to hold some of her laugh inside him forever, as once it entered him he would never surrender it to the harshness of the world ever again.

Her fingers trace a blazing trail down the column of his spine, ending somewhere near his mid-back as she runs out of arm length to reach any further. Diminutive, he’s reminded; and as if she senses his thoughts through some tongue convertible telepathy, she uses her strength to flip him onto his back. Her eyes sparkle — diminutive my ass, Agent Mulder. His petite, achingly pretty partner has finally knocked him on his ass; and she looks particularly proud of herself for doing so. Her hands reach for his belt and it’s game on again. No more verbose silent soliloquies written like odes unto her beauty. At least not for the moment.

With his belt gone she makes quick work of the button and zip of his jeans; extricates herself from him, much to his dismay, but it’s only in necessity to remove the garment, and drop it in a muffled denim thump onto the carpet. Her leggings are next to go; her hips wiggling side to side as she works the snug fabric down her toned, peaches and cream colored legs. He sits up swiftly before she can deal with the rest herself — he wants this privilege; wants it burned inside his very eyelids, so on every blink he gets the split-second reminder, of just what it was like to strip Dana Scully of the last of her underthings.

He sits at the edge of the bed with her fixed between his legs. He kisses the curve of her waist, drags his mouth along the path to her hip, takes her waistband into his teeth and softly snaps it against her. She laughs again, softly; and tangles a hand back into his hair. She indulges his monumental levels of patience even while she has no such monuments of her own. When he finally raises his hands to grasp and pull the fabric down her legs she lets out a sigh; something between relief and a dash of apprehension. There’s no going back now.

He kisses along her sternum but his eyes are decidedly skywards. But this time he’s not looking to the sky for intangible spacecraft hovering above — he’s looking to her. He holds her in place with the weight of his gaze alone. It says to her that this is about you, us; not just him or what lies between her legs. She dips down just enough to kiss him, with the softest kiss they’ve yet to share. The impossible pillow of her lips accepts his own in a cradle akin only to a cloud. He is truly discovering unidentified objects here; flying along with her to light the way.

Her lack of patience has finally begun to catch up with her; and she tugs at the top of his boxers, the turgid, solid length of him breaking free. His shorts have barely reached his calves before her hand has grasped the fullness of him; taking up a slow, rhythmic manipulation of flesh that leaves him burdened with a desperate sort of longing to surge up into the vise of her grip.

“Scully—” His hands take up a similar vise grip of her waist; the rest of his sentiment conveyed only through the fervor in his eyes. Now it’s her turn to put him out of his misery — when she’s in his lap again and the heat of her is engulfing him inch by solid inch. His lips find her breast as she adjusts atop him; accepts him all the more than she’s already done. Her fingers clutch at his shoulders as she works her way down, back up and down again; each time taking more until he’s buried totally inside her and never wants to come back out.

He kisses her again and swallows up her humming; the soft sounds she’s begun making as she sets out a rhythm with him. His hands hoist her gently by the hips to aid in her cadence, and pull her back down in parallel motion; sinking deeply into her waiting warmth and besetting a quiver into her pliable construction. Her rhythm starts to falter even with his helping hands, strength waning as pleasure takes a stronger hold.

“Mulder...” her bliss-racked voice beseeches him; so he rolls and moves them back up the bed, lets her take residence up below him once again, drives his hips into hers like before but this time the connection is palpable — sweaty and authentic, and he’s in rapture all the more. He looks on in fascination at his length disappearing into her — sees the flush creep back in all over now; a full body blushing and he just has to see her face. She’s grown pinker and more wanton since he’s switched their positions, enjoying her view of his form just as he is hers. They share a lust-addled smile before he’s on her again; kissing her hungrily as his hips roll and smack into hers in a delicious dizzying stroke, touching places within her that make her break the kiss to moan and wriggle before just as desperately returning to his lips for just a bit more.

His hands engulf her breasts again; thumbs thoroughly titillating her pert nipples until she’s using any leverage she has to thrust her hips downwards to meet his halfway — anything to tear more pleasure from their joining. Her sounds have been reduced to mere whimpers now; hands clutching desperately for a hold, something to keep her on the precipice, anything to feel like this just a little longer. He stops the overstimulation he’d committed to her breasts, instead focusing on a caress of her hips, her waist, the middle of her chest and even up to her throat. Whatever he can do to extend her pleasure, he’ll do it. He changes the angle of his hips slightly and she all but yelps. “Right there, Mulder—God.” His thrusts steadily hit her in just that spot and she’s quivering again — teeth chattering, nails digging in to his flesh, her voice growing higher and more desperate than he’s ever heard her. His own pleasure is fast surfacing; a wave ready to break on the rocks at any moment, barely holding back but using all his remaining strength to do so.

The inevitable is approaching; fast, and faster still. He knows she’s close but still needs something — that final push into oblivion, and he finds it with his thumb. He smooths the pad of it along her apex, unearths the diamond of nerves at her medial and rubs circles against it until she’s convulsing internally; spasming around him in the most beautiful fashion, and then he’s spilling over too — cresting white waves against the beach, her name on his lips like she were a prayer. And God, for him. She is.

[thexforgottenxones]

✌ ; An achievement that you’re proud of?

One of the achievements I’m most proud of was one I got quite a while ago, in sixth grade. It was a writing competition. I wrote a non-fiction story about a roller coaster ride I’d been on. I won first place (I think? It’s been a while it might have been second or third instead) in the state for non-fiction writing that year, out of all the sixth graders. (To be fair it was Wyoming so it’s not exactly the same as winning an award like that in a larger state.)

That was one of the things that let me know I was good at writing. Even back then, in sixth grade, I was pretty good at conveying emotions through writing, and remembering that I’m good enough at that to be recognized for it by writing judges is still very encouraging, even if it’s been years now. Gives me faith in my writing ability and just, boosts some confidence when I’m feeling down about it.

[pbandjesse]

I don't know what's wrong but I feel awful right now. I was having a really good day and I felt good. And sometime around 5 I start getting a migraine. And then when I got home I started having this horrible chill. And now I like I'm laying here and I'm shaking my head hurts. I don't know what's wrong. I hope it passes with some sleep.

I like I said I felt good today. I slept pretty good last night and woke up around 7:30. I read an article on my phone and that made me feel better about getting up. I don't know why but it just kind of woke me up in a way I haven't felt in a while. I got dressed and I felt very cute I packed my lunch and I headed out.

I did not thoroughly enjoy my bike ride for many reasons. First I forgot to bring a sweatshirt or a jacket or anything so it was a little chilly. That just got worse throughout the day but whatever. I also got leered at by a bunch of gross guys. So that didn't make me feel very good. But I got to work in one piece and everything was good.

I was doing assembly line but sixth graders today and they were such a great group. The teacher was great the kids were great the parents were great. I got to kind of Goof Off with them a little bit and do assembly line differently because they were so nice and paid attention so well. One of them even called me ma'am. And we finished up early so they all got to go and hang out in the car for a little while and go to the bathroom and stuff before we did our tour.

And it was a very good to her. I got a little mouth numb few times but they all took it in stride and enjoy my stories I think. When I got to the Garment Lofts buy legit started choking up. And then I couldn't stop choking up I got really into my story and they all really felt the emotions to and then I was just like okay I can't talk in this room anymore so we went to print and I was able to pull myself together by then. But I really think that they understood why I got so emotional about Baltimore and the women in the immigrants and all of that. I hope the kids appreciated it.

I left around 12:15 and I biked to the bus and got on right away. I got to the school and went to the community room because we were supposed to have a meeting at 1:30. And there was some food in there for us because of the teacher appreciation week so I got pasta. And I waited. My other coworkers came but Chelsea and Tiffany were not there. And I was very concerned that I was in the wrong room but I was in the right place everyone was just running late.

We had a restorative circle with some of the girls from her class. Talked about some of the issues and how we could be better about being catty and fussing with each other all the time. It was good to get it all out in the open with them. I hope it helps even though we only have a couple weeks left.

We had to run to go get the kids because the circle had gone later than we had planned. But the kids were upstairs hanging in the hallway and it was all good. They got our boards for us and we went inside and painted for a couple minutes before we went to recess.

It was very cold when we got out there and Michael Kennedy was just wearing his sweatshirt around his waist so I asked him if I could wear it and he let me and that helped a lot. I skated with the kids a little bit but mostly way to gymnastics. I let the girls try to teach me how to do a cartwheel. I used to be able to do around off but it's been awhile like almost two years since I've done one. So we were having a good time doing that. And then we went to dinner.

Our time was good in general. Chelsi took the girls and went to film their music videos and I went outside with the boys to film their action movies. I lucked out this time because I only had four kids. But to be fair yesterday chelsi had four kids and I had everybody else. So it all work out. And I really had a good time running around with the boys and tell me their actions means. I hope chelsi it is okay with editing all of it as well. She's so great about that.

Like I said though I started getting a headache at the end of the day. And the kids were screaming at each other in the cross or when it felt very overwhelming. But I had them all go around and say a positive thing about filming and gave him a marshmallow and then it was time to go home.

I didn't have to wait too long for the bus which was nice because I had forgotten my charger at the BMI and my jacket at home so I had a dying phone and I was cold. My battery lasted about halfway on the bus ride but it was okay. I stopped at the grocery store to get hot dogs and bread and then came home.

I had my hot dogs and hung out for a while. And then I took a bath and I have been desperately trying to feel better. James is going to come over soon which is why I'm trying to get this done a little bit early. But really I just think I'm going to fall asleep. Just don't feel very good. Tomorrow I have the morning off though. So I get to sleep in which I'm looking forward to. And then hopefully it's just a good day with my kids. Sleep well everyone. Have a good night

[south-park-x-reader-blog]

Kenny Mccormick x Reader

((Picture credit: https://muloui-art.tumblr.com/ thanks for letting me use it! <3)

Arcade

“Y/N!” (your name) you hear someone call behind you. You turn curiously scanning the crowd of kids who were shoving their way out of the classroom. Maybe you imagined it? Just as you were about to turn to head out you see a flash of orange trying to shove its way through the crowd. You couldn’t help but snort as he managed to make his way through the crowd. That bundle of orange was your best friend Kenny Mccormick. You grab his arm and pull him to the side of the restless students rushing out for break.

“What’s going on Kenny? Why did you call me?” You question as he catches his breath. Forcing your way through a crowd of students was never easy.

“Kyle, Stan, Eric and I were going to go to an arcade. I was wondering if you’d like to join us?” Kenny had luckily zippied his jacket down so you could understand him.

“Sure I don’t see why not, I don’t have much money though…” You rub the back of your neck pulling out the few quarters you had.

“That’s ok, I was gonna look around the street to see what I could find. I’ll share what I can with you!” He says smiling brightly. You often forgot about what state Kenny lived in.

“Thanks Kenny! Here.” You take his hand placing half of your money into his hand. He looked at the money and then at you confused. A laugh bubbles up from your throat and you rub the back of your neck nervously.

“We’ll you said you’d share the money you’d find so I figured it’d only be fair I share what I found.” Kenny smiles happily and grips the coins tightly carefully placing them into his pocket for safe keeping. Before he could say anything Kyle cut him off.

“Come on Kenny! Stop flirting with Y/N and let’s go already!” Kyle shouts from outside making Kenny laugh zipping his jacket back up. Your cheeks flush but you quickly hide it under your scarf. The last thing you needed was Eric to notice. You’d never hear the end of it. The five of you make your way through the streets to the arcade. Kenny picked up any coins he found in the way and you helped. Of course Eric had to make some stupid snarky comment about Kenny being poor and needed the money for dinner. You were going to retaliate but Kyle was quick to do so before you. So you decided it was best to just keep quiet and let the two of them hash it out. The second you guys got there Kyle, Eric, and Stan all dashed off to different games. You glance around amazed at all the beautiful flashing lights and stunning games.

“Mph mph mph mph mphh?” You blink being snapped back to reality by Kenny. You stare at him confused and that seemed to portray the fact you had no idea what he said so he zips his jacket down.

“It’s pretty damn cool right?” You laugh and nod grabbing Kenny’s arm and dragging him through the lanes, in search for one of the cheapest machines. Your eyes land upon an old crane machine, one turn was only 50 cents! Just barely enough. Kenny followed your line of sight and the two of you go over. You notice Kenny was staring at a beautiful plush rabbit with a purple bow in it’s hair.

“Karen would love that…” You hear Kenny whisper just under a breath. That was enough determination you’d need. You place the quarters into the slot. The machine whirred to life playing up-beat music as you carefully line up the crane. You hit the button and watch as the crane slowly lower. You hold your breath as the crane wraps around the plush and then… It slips. You groan sadly and Kenny gently pats your back placing his own coins into the machine. You watch intently as he lined up the crane. It slowly lowered and the toy slipped before it even got lifted into the air.

“This is totally rigged.” You mumble and Kenny rubs the back of his neck going through the coins he managed to find on the street. It only added up to about 30 cents. Not enough. The two of you watched Kyle and Stan have a DDR (dance dance revolution) battle. Around 5pm you all decided to head home. Luckily they all lived on the other side of town so you waved bye and headed off. Once you were sure that they were gone you began to scour the town. Searching for any coins or dollars you could find. Once you notice the sun was setting you ran back to the arcade looking at your haul of money, a total of 4$ not too shabby. You place your first quarters into the machine giving a quiet prayer as you align the crane. You push the button watching as it lowers, lifting the toy to the drop. Yes, yes, yes, no! The toy slips half an inch away from the drop. You sigh annoyed slipping the quarters into the machine again. You could hear some loud laughter and chatter but you were to focused on the machine. You line the crane up once more pressing the button. The plush lifts into the air and… drops into the drop.

“Yes!” you shout out loud laughing happily. You take the plush out happily going to turn but you ran into something. You stumble back going to apologize but you were cut off before you could.

“Watch it fourthy!” Great, it was the sixth graders. You force a kind smile holding onto the plush.

“Sorry, I just turned too fast.” You go wide eyed as the rip the plush from your hands.

“Hey!” You shout trying to grab it making the sixth grader laugh lifting into the air running outside the arcade. You were quick to chase them jumping to try and get it.

“Aw the little fourthy still likes dolls!” The sixth grader teases. It wasn’t for you but you couldn’t tell them it was for Karen!

“Give it back!” You hiss trying to jump your fingers just barely grazing it. You could fear some tears of frustration forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Awww! She’s gonna cry!” One of his groupies laugh and shove you making you stumble back. Just when you thought you were going to fall someone catches you. You look up seeing Kenny his hoodie down and a serious look on his face. Damn he was hot…

“Give it back.” Kenny hisses and helps you up. That only made the sixth graders laugh.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” To your surprise Kenny punched the sixth grader square in the jaw making him drop the plush. You go wide eyed running over and dusting the snow off it worriedly. When you look back at Kenny he was being held by one of the sixth graders the other punching him. You bite your lip hard rearing back and swinging your foot full force into the sixth graders crotch. The sixth graders knees buckle and he let’s go of Kenny falling to the ground. You huff happily and Kenny slams his fist into the last sixth grader making him fall on the ground.

“You alright?” You ask Kenny frowning when you see his bruised nose and blood dripping from his lip.

“Yeah thanks to you.” You sigh softly and hold the doll placing it into Kenny’s arms.

“For Karen.” He goes wide eyed looking at the plush and then to you a soft smile crossing his face.

“Thank you…” He whispers and places the plush safely in his jacket pulling his hood back up.

“Fucking forthy… Your girlfriend won’t always be around to save you…” Kenny grins and turns flipping them off.

“You’re just jealous I have a hot girlfriend who can kick ass too.” You could feel your cheeks flush. He just called you his girlfriend. He held his hand out for you to take and you gladly do so.

“That was surprisingly fun~” You tease making Kenny snort laughing

“Next time you take the punches then.” he teases back making you roll your eyes playfully. You brought him back to your house getting an ice pack for his eye and a good meal. You offered to let him stay the night, which he seemed excited about but decided he needed to head home to Karen. You place a gently kiss onto his cheek as he was heading out making him blush and grin ear to ear as he headed home. With that you close the door and sigh happily sliding against the door closing your eyes happily.

[mygrandmathinksimsassy]

Maddie, I need kindergarten/daycare teacher Ben Solo in my life like I need Adam in a brocade dinner jacket.

(This was initially going to be a prompt fill and now it’s a whole thing that I’ll be posting to AO3)

“You’re a teacher?”

Ben doesn’t look like a teacher. At least not like any teacher Rey has ever had.

Finn covered her halfof rent last month.

Rey thought she’d havegot a research job by now, or at the very least, an internship she could dopart-time while working somewhere else for what would hopefully be more thanminimum wage. She doesn’t need a career just yet, just something that looksdecent enough to talk about if she ends up getting any interviews for any ofthe schools that have asked for secondary applications, but apparently that isasking too much. 

It’s taking a bit toolong to get hired.

Finn might have tohelp with the next month too.

–

She owes him one. Sheowes him thousands of times for everything he’s done for her since they satnext to each other in that physics class he ended up dropping when he decidedpre-med was not for him, but she definitely owes him at least one. 

Finn has been teachingfor about a month now, at the ritzy elementary school on the other side oftown, the one that looks like something out of a movie. It’s the sort of placeshe would have killed to go to as a kid, a place where they send thesixth-graders to a wilderness camp every year and the textbooks were written inthe past decade.

It’s the kind ofschool that has enough money to throw a carnival to welcome back theirstudents.

The kind of carnivalthat apparently needs volunteers.

–

It’s eight on a Fridaynight. Finn has been passing out by nine every night since he’s started, wornout from keeping up with a class of thirty third graders, but he’s wide awakeright now.

Apparently, it’s timeto collect.

“I don’t think I’mqualified to run a first aid tent.“

The Great British Bake-Off drones on in the background when Finn asks herto fill in for a parent volunteer who dropped out the night before. If shemisses Mary Berry complain about a “soggy bottom,” then that defeats the entirepoint of the drinking game she found when drafting cover letters got a bit toooverwhelming.

“It’s not like you’regoing to have to operate on anyone,” Finn says. “We just need a warm body tohand out band-aids. You can say it’s clinical experience. It’ll look good onyour resume.” 

Someone ends updropping their cake, a confection that looks nothing like the tastefulillustration they had been shown at the beginning of the episode. and they bothreach for their glasses of the cheapest wine she could find at Target.

“I will pay you infriendship- “

“We’re already friends.”

“Then I will also payyou in takeout afterward,” Finn tells her. “Whatever you want. My treat.”

“Indian food or I’ll quit.”

“Whatever you want.”

She was always going to say yes. Finn knows that. She knows that.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate the bribe.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank god.” Finn letsout a sigh and sinks back against the couch they found on the side of the roadwhen the college kids moved out of their apartments at the end of the schoolyear. 

It’s still a prettydecent couch. It hardly looks like it came from the street.

“I already signedyou up.”

–

The school Finnteaches at is nice. 

Like really nice.

Nice enough where shefeels bad for showing up in jeans and a t-shirt that she got from doing a 10k afew years back.

The moms are allwearing Lilly Pulitzer in shades that run the gamut from aqua to lavender. Afew of the more daring ones are in green. All of them have blow outs and roundsunglasses perched on their heads complete with iced coffees that seemed gluedto the inside of their hands. 

The dads are all inthe same light blue button down tucked into the same pair of khakis. It’s likethey all agreed on a uniform beforehand and she pities any kids who get losttoday because they are going to have a hell of a time.

She follows Finn througha balloon archway toward a makeshift fairground covered in orange and bluedecorations. A handful of kids wave to him when Finn makes it onto the campus,calling out his name like he’s a rock star trying to make it out of an airport.They are all thrilled when he waves back at them and it’s worth it to volunteereven if it’s just to see how happy Finn is now that he’s in his element.

There are roughly ahundred different booths with different carnival games and kids already liningup to win stuffed animals and way too much candy.

It might be the bestparty she’s ever been to.

–

The first aid tent ison the corner of the makeshift fair grounds, just across from a ring toss gameand right by where someone is setting up a popcorn maker.

The department chairFinn works with, a swanlike woman named Amilyn, is already waiting. She’s got ahead of pink hair with a matching pink stud in her nose and a maxi dressunderneath a flowy rust-colored cardigan. There are Birkenstocks peeking outunderneath the hem of her dress with pink leather straps, ones that lookwell-worn like she’s been holding onto them since Lilith fair.

There was a car in theteacher’s parking lot covered in political bumper stickers urging passersby to“Coexist.”

One guess as to whoseit was.

 "You must beRey,” she says. There’s a unicorn already painted onto her face, but somehow,she makes it work. “Finn has told me so much about you. I feel like I knowyou already.”

She must look panickedat the notoriety because Amilyn smiles in an almost maternal way.

“Only good things,”she tells her. “Let’s get you set up.”

Rey is given a firstaid kit with plenty of band-aids and a cooler filled with water bottles andjuice. There are two folding chairs with “Chandrila Elementary” embroidered inblue fabric on the back and a little trash can just behind the table.

“If you need anything,I’ll be at the face painting booth pretending I know how to draw.” Amilyn givesthe tent a once-over. “Seriously, don’t hesitate to let me know if you needanything.”

“It’s ok,” Rey tellsher. “I’ll be fine.”

When Amilyn leaves thetent, it looks like she’s gliding.

The DJ- the schoolseriously hired a DJ-is playing a “Hey Ya!” at a volume so loud that Rey canbarely hear herself think. There is no chance any of these kids know whatsong is playing, but that doesn’t stop them from dancing. They’re all too youngto care about how they look, dancing just because there is music and because itseems fun, and she lets herself focus on something other than waiting for anyof the places she’s applied to call her back.

It’ll be ok.

If it’s not, there’sonly six hours to go.

–

Running the first aidtent isn’t that bad. Definitely worth the promise of as much takeout Finn iswilling to put on his credit card.

A handful of kids comein with banged up knees from falling on the black top, in need of bandages andjuice boxes before they’re ready to get back to the fun. They’re allsurprisingly well-behaved, all saying please and thank you without anyprompting from the parents who all seem way more worried than they do.

One of the moms stopsby and asks if she has anything for a migraine. When she offers up an Advil- byfar the strongest thing she has- the mom reluctantly accepts.

It’s pleasant. Boring.

Until one of the dadsstops by.

He definitely doesn’tlook the other dads.

For one thing, he’ssoaking wet. His dark hair is dripping, but still long enough to reach where acollar would be and the shirt he’s wearing- a bright orange monstrosity withthe words “Chandrila Coyotes” emblazoned on the front- sticks to his chest. Hischest is broad- big in a way that makes her think he must spend every freemoment in the gym- and she can pretty much see all of it with just how wet heis. His arms look like they might burst through the fabric. She can only hopeshe’s there when they do.

Instead of khakis,he’s in black swim trunks that cling to his thighs. His surprisingly muscularthighs.

The swim trunks clingto other parts too. They are doing an excellent job.

The only thing thatmakes him seem remotely mortal, is just how horrible the color contrast is. Helooks like he’s some sort of walking billboard for Halloween who wanted tostart the ad campaign about two months early, but she finds it in herself toforgive him for the misstep.

He’s definitelydifferent from the other dads.

She tries not tostare, but she must be staring, because it’s like she’s forgotten how to speakuntil he clears his throat.

“I cut my arm onsomething.“ 

He has a nice voice.Deep. The sort of voice people would pay good money to have narrate a naturedocumentary.

She remembers just howwords work and then promptly embarrasses herself.

“Is that how you gotcovered in water?”

“It was my shift inthe dunk tank.” He says this like a dunk tank was the obvious answer, but she’snever really spent much time around kids, so it might very well be. “Someasshole sixth grader spent ten dollars trying to knock me in.”

“I thought that wasthe whole point of a dunk tank.”

He looks at her withexasperation, practically rolling his eyes, and she shrugs her shouldersbecause it’s the only thing she can think to do.

“Can you just look atmy cut?”

She motions to thefree chair and her mystery patient takes a seat. He is too big for the chair,the same way he’s too big for his shirt, and when he holds up his forearm forher to inspect, it’s a wonder she can actually focus on the cut.

He is wet, but whenshe takes his arm, he’s warm.

The cut isn’t too bad-nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days so long as he doesn’t pick at it-but it’s the most blood she’s seen all day, so she can’t really fault him forcoming by. She lets the evaluation take longer than it needs to be, studyingthe muscle in his arm before glancing down at his hands.

He has nice hands,this mystery DILF, big hands that might be larger than her face. There isn’t aring on his finger and she didn’t think she was at that point yet, to ogle strangemen and wonder if they’re married, but apparently, she is. It’s a realizationthat makes her feel a little old, but she doesn’t have enough time to dwell onit when he speaks again.

“What’s the prognosis,doc?”

“I’m not entirelysure,” she says. She’s still holding onto his arm, but he doesn’t pull away, soshe keeps holding on. “But I think it’ll have to come off.”

He smiles at that,revealing teeth that are big and white and imperfect. His eyes crinkle up allsmall and she is so pleased with herself, so pleased to have earned this smile,that she can barely stand it.

“I figured as much.”His voice is completely dead pan when his face fades back into an exasperatedneutrality. “Just give me some whiskey and a stick to bite on and we’re good toamputate.” 

“I don’t have anybooze with me.” 

“That’s a shame.”Mystery DILF lets out a melodramatic sigh, but his lips still curl up at theends, the ghost of a smile. “I’ll just settle for gangrene.”

She smiles before shereaches into the first-aid kit and pulls out a fresh baby wipe to mop up theblood.

Mystery DILF watchesher when she cleans his cut, in a way that makes her acutely aware ofeverything that she’s doing, every brush of the wipe against his muscularforearm, every time she sucks in a breath. The way he looks at her makes timeslow down somehow, until the dulcet tones of “Gangnam Style” blaring in thebackground fade completely away.

It’s overwhelming, notin a bad way, just overwhelming and so she tries to make conversation becauseit feels like she might float off the ground.

“How old are yourkids?”

“I don’t have any kids,”he scoffs. “I work here.” 

“You’re a teacher?” 

He doesn’t look like ateacher. At least not like any teacher she’s ever had.

“Would I be at anelementary school carnival if I weren’t?” Mystery not-DILF says. “I’m herebecause I have to be. Trust me, I have better things to do.”

He hasn’t beenbleeding for a few minutes now, but she can’t stop touching his arm.

“Most people likecarnivals.”

“Most people don’thave to deal with parents bugging them the entire time,” he says. “We’ve onlyhad two weeks of classes and I already have at least five different peopleasking about their kid’s college readiness. It just starts earlier eachyear.“

“What grade do youteach?”

She’s thinking sixthgrade. It’s a nice image, the thought of him unraveling the mysteries of theancient world, using his deep voice to introduce kids to the classics.

“Kindergarten.”

“Bullshit.”

She snorts, and helooks like she slapped him.

“It’s notbullshit,” he says. “I promise.”

“You don’t seem like akindergarten teacher.” She struggles to find the right word for what she’strying to convey, to reconcile the thought of this man with his broad shouldersand deadpan expression surrounded by screaming kids that just barely come uppast his knee. “Kindergarten teachers are supposed to be…”

“Supposed to bewomen?” He says with a smug expression. “I get that a lot.”

“That’s not what I wasgoing to say.” 

“What was it then?” Heraises his eyebrows expectantly. “Enlighten me, doctor.”

“They are supposed tobe nice.”

“I happen to bevery nice.” 

“I don’t know,” shesays with a shrug. “You just called a kid an asshole like five minutes ago.”

“I’ve known that kidsince he was five. I know for a fact that he is an asshole,” he tells her.“That doesn’t mean I’m not nice.”

He doesn’t seem like amean person, but she doubts that this man is nice.

Nice men don’t wearshirts that cling to every muscle. Nice men don’t look like him.

“How did you end upworking the first aid tent in the first place?” He asks. “You just decided tobe a Good Samaritan for the day?”

“My roommate just startedworking here last month,” Rey tells him. “He guilted me into volunteeringbecause he knew that I didn’t have anything better to do.” 

“Who’s your roommate?”

“Finn Abejide,” shetells him. “He’s teaching third grade.”

“I know who he is,”the guys says. “I didn’t know he had a roommate.” 

He says this likehaving a roommate is some grand revelation. Which is bullshit.

Lots of people have roommates.

“Well now youdo.”

She lifts the secondbaby wipe from his arm and reluctantly lets go.

“What type of band-aid do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

She chooses two of thebandages from the most sparkly of the boxes she’s been provided.

Not because she thinkshe’ll be embarrassed. If he chose to wear that shirt, then he’s definitely pastthe point of embarrassment. But because it amuses her. Because the quickershe picks out a band-aid, the quicker she can get back to touching him.

She gently adheres theband-aids- purple ones with horses printed all over- and he smirks when helooks down.

“Twilight Sparkle,” hesays. “Excellent choice” 

“How do you know MyLittle Pony?” She zips up the first-aid kit. “They’re a little after your time.”

“I spend most of myweek with five-year olds,” he says. “I have forgotten more about My Little Ponythan most people will ever know.” 

He leans back in hischair and there’s no real reason for him to stay- he’s no longer bleeding andhe’s all patched up, so she uses the only tool left at her disposal.

“Do you want ajuice box?” She reaches into the cooler, fishing for what’s left of herhaul. “I’ve been giving them to every patient.”

"Sure,” he says. “Whynot?”

She hands one to him.When he takes it, his fingers brush against hers.

His hands are way toobig for the juice box-it’s meant for someone tiny and everything about him ishuge- and when he jams the straw in, a few droplets splatter on her shirt.

“Sorry about that,” hesays sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to get you wet.” 

He realizes what he’sjust said just about when she realizes it.

His mouth gets allsmall like he just sucked on a lemon and she is not blushing, why would she beblushing. That would be stupid. 

The silence that hangsbetween them is almost painful. The conversation that follows is even worse.

"This is good juice.”

"It came with thetent.”

“Still goodthough.” 

He finishes the juicebox in another lengthy sip. When he’s done, he crumples it into a ball and aimsfor the little recycling bin in the corner. The crumpled juice box landswith a thud.

When he stands up fromhis chair, she has to crane her neck up just to take him all in.

"I’ll see youaround.”

He leaves her with anod, the sort of stilted one guys use to greet each other on the street, andshe nods right back.

It’s only after he’sgone that she realizes she never got his name 

–

The booth is prettymuch dead for the rest of the day and so she watches the ring toss game sinceher phone is essentially dead.

A little boy, probablykindergarten age but there’s no way she really can tell has spent the lastthirty minutes trying to win a stuffed animal. His aim is terrible, bad enoughwhere half the rings land on the ground, and she can hear the beginnings of atantrum when her Patient Zero swoops in.

He’s basically tallerthan the booth so it doesn’t take him that long to land all three rings on thebottles set up behind the partition. The woman behind the booth hands him astuffed animal alligator and then he crouches down so he’s eye level to thekid.

He hands the alligatorto the kid- a dark haired little boy with skinned knees- and the boy sweeps himinto a hug. Her patient hugs right back and she looks away when he catches herwatching.

–

She looks for him whenthey walk back to Finn’s car, hoping to get a name or maybe even another smile.

But Patient Zero isalready gone when they leave 

–

Finn buys enoughtakeout to last them through the weekend.

"I promise Ididn’t mean to abandon you-“ Finn opens one of the containers and the smell ofsamosas fills the air. Her stomach rumbles like she’s just remembering thatshe’s hungry and she looks forward to the food coma that is sure to come. “-Ihad to convince like twenty of my kids to ask for balloon animal snakes becauseI couldn’t figure out how to make anything else.”

"It’s alright.”She spoons half the Chana Masala onto her plate. It might the happiest she’sever been to see a chickpea. "One of the teachers got hurt so we hung outfor a bit.

"Who wasit?”

“I don’t know,” shesays. “A guy teacher.”

“Was it Mr. Yoda?”Finn asks hopefully “Because I want him to be my grandpa. I will give him theadoption papers to sign if I ever figure out his first name.“

"This guy wasn’treally grandpa age.” Her mouth is still half full. "I didn’t get his name.He was a kindergarten teacher. Tall.”

“Are you talkingabout Ben Solo?" 

“You know I don’t knowwho that is.” 

"You would knowwho he is. He’s a dick.” She studies each portion of the last samosa beforefinally taking the one that’s about three millimeters thicker. Finn pops theother half in his mouth but that doesn’t stop him from ranting. “He’s the onlyguy even close to our age and I think he’s said like three words to me since Istarted. I literally have not seen him talking to another adult.  It’slike he’s made it his mission in life not to make any friends.”

 "I don’t know.”

She reaches for thelast samosa and thinks about the man who won a crying kid a toy.

“Heseemed nice.”

[geekprincess26]

The Year of Zero: Chapter 1

June 17, 908 AC

“Sansa!”  Catelyn Stark’s voice drifted over the banisters lining the basement stairs and through the crack under the firmly closed door of her eldest daughter’s bedroom.  “Come and set the dinner table, please.”

Twelve-year-old Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and sighed with frustration.  It seemed but a few minutes since she’d had to set the table for lunch, and now it was dinnertime already.  Really, she had only had but a few minutes to herself that afternoon.  She’d had to wash the lunch dishes while her mother had ferried Bran and Rickon off to basketball practice, which would have been fine except that Arya, who’d been drying the dishes next to her, had been in a hurry to head off biking with her friends and done her job far too quickly, leaving streaks of water all over the plates.  As soon as Sansa had pointed that out, Arya had begun snapping at her, and Catelyn Stark had come home to find them in a blazing row.  They’d gotten to snapping each other with the dish towels, but Sansa had had the misfortune to be the only one of them her mother had actually seen in the act, so she’d gotten the harsher punishment, along with a stern admonition to act her age and be a better example to her sister.

So now she was stuck doing the dishes every night that week, and here it was only Tuesday.  It was doubly unfair because Robb was supposed to have washed the lunch dishes that day, and he could always handle Arya and her fits and pranks and immaturity better than Sansa could.  But Robb was at day camp for football this week, and her parents could hardly deny him the chance to improve his skills and possibly earn a place on the school varsity team that fall.  He would only be a freshman, but he was tall and broad for fourteen, and Coach Cassel had told the Starks he had a real chance.  So Robb had gone to camp and agreed to do the dinner dishes that week, which now fell to Sansa because he was away and Arya had gotten off on a lighter punishment yet again for yet another fight she’d started in the first place.

Sansa sighed again and willed her eyes open.  She might yet get another page of Florian and Jonquil read before her mother –

“Sansa Lyarra!” Catelyn called, and Sansa flopped her feet off her bed to the floor.  She grabbed her favorite bookmark, the silver one with the pretty blue ribbon that she’d won for good grades last year in school, and tucked it carefully into the pages of her favorite book.  Another sigh left her lips as she mounted the stairs to the kitchen.

Catelyn barely spared her elder daughter a glance from the pot of stew she was stirring.  Sansa thought she might be able to escape to her room for a few more minutes before dinner if she set the table quickly enough, but just as she was placing the soup spoons, she heard the familiar creak of the back door and the even more familiar voices of her father and elder brother as they stopped to remove their shoes in the back entryway.

“Hey, Sans.”  Robb, hair still wet from his after-camp shower, wiggled her braid and grinned at her.  “What’s up?”

No sooner had Sansa opened her mouth than Rickon burst into the kitchen to tackle his oldest brother.  Robb laughed and swung Rickon upside-down, which earned him a fit of giggles from the younger boy and a “Robb, be careful with him!” from Catelyn.  Sansa turned back to the table, sighed again, and finished placing the spoons.

No sooner had everyone sat down to the table than Ned Stark raised a hand to ward of the customary dinnertime chatter (less chatter and more noise, thought Sansa) about to erupt from his children’s lips.

“Before we talk about our days,” he said, “let’s go over what we’re doing tonight and tomorrow.  Robb has a ball game in – ” he glanced at the clock on the wall – “about an hour, and another tomorrow night at the same time.  Rickon, Bran, you’re home with Sansa; Arya, you’ll be coming with us.  We’ll do the same tomorrow; Robb has another game from his rain delay last week.  That should be all, right, Cat?”  He turned to his wife, who kept a whiteboard calendar fastened to the refrigerator with each child’s extracurricular activities written in a different color, and she nodded.

Sansa swallowed a sip of lemonade as fast as she could.  “Daddy,” she said, and Ned turned to look at her.  “I’ll be at Jeyne’s tomorrow night, not at Robb’s game.  Mrs. Poole will bring me home by 9:00.”

“Sansa, we need you here with Bran and Rickon,” Catelyn interjected.  “The game won’t be over till after their bedtime.”

Sansa frowned.  “But it’s on the calendar, Mum,” she reminded her mother.  “You said I could go.”

Catelyn sighed.  “Sorry, love,” she said.  “We didn’t know that Robb would have his makeup game tonight when I told you that.  I’ll call Mrs. Poole and tell her you can’t come.”

Sansa bit her lip.  She did not want to rouse her mother’s ire twice in one day, but she hadn’t seen her best friend since last week, and they were going to paint their nails with the lovely indigo nail polish Jeyne had just gotten after seeing it in Westerosi Fashion Teen!, not to mention catching up on the latest episode of Jenny of the Oldstones.  

“Muuum,” she began, but her father narrowed his eyes just a bit – not so much that he was angry, but it was still enough to silence Sansa.

“Sansa,” he admonished her.  “Respect your mother, please.  We need you here with Bran and Rickon.”  He turned to his wife.  “Maybe you can go to Jeyne’s another night if Mrs. Poole says yes.”

Sansa’s shoulders began to slump.  She wanted to ask why Bran and Rickon couldn’t just have a babysitter, but she knew better than to argue.  A moment later, a new plan occurred to her, and she straightened back up in her seat.  

“Maybe Friday, after my dance recital?” she asked hopefully.  Ned threw his wife a questioning look.

Catelyn sighed.  “Oh, that’s right,” she said.  “I’d thought for a moment it was next Friday instead.  Robb’s got another game, so if she can take you there and then back to her house, that should work fine.”

Sansa’s eyebrows and nose wrinkled.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robb stifle a grin at what he’d called her “scrunch face” since she was a baby and he was three years old.

“I thought you and Daddy were taking me,” she said, but Catelyn shook her head.

“Rickon’s got basketball that night,” she said, “so I’ll be taking him and Bran there.  Dad will take Arya to Robb’s game.”

Sansa’s shoulders dropped again.  She and Jeyne were performing the Rosy Reel with Alys Karstark and Wylla Manderly on Friday, and it was a five-minute dance, representing by far the biggest role Sansa had ever taken on stage.  Even Mrs. Poole, who had never been much of a one for dance, had been clucking with excitement over watching it.  But Sansa knew any protest on her part would be futile, so she went back to sipping her lemonade in silence with her eyes fixed on her dinner plate.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

“Then Rickon ran outside because he wouldn’t go to bed, the idiot, and I told him I’d tell Mum on him, but he said he didn’t care because I couldn’t punish him for it, anyway.”

Sansa rolled her eyes as she finished her tale and passed the nail polish brush to Jeyne, whose mother had after all agreed to Sansa’s coming to their house on Friday night instead of Wednesday.  Jane rolled her eyes harder, if possible.

“Ugh,” she replied.  “I’m glad I don’t have a little brother; Elna and Freya are almost bad enough for three brothers, anyway.”

Sansa grinned.  Jeyne was almost always complaining about the antics of her twin six-year-old sisters.

“Better them than Arya, still,” she said, and Jeyne sighed.

“Fair point,” she replied.  “At least we won’t be in school with her next year.”

“I know,” Sansa said.  Her grin rose to match her friend’s.  Both had graduated from Winterfell Elementary School that spring and would attend Robett P. Glover Middle School in the fall.

“So when’s your grandma taking you for new clothes?” Jeyne asked, brushing the polish gently over the smallest nail on her right foot.  Sansa’s grandmother always took her and Arya to the mall to buy them each a new outfit for school at the end of each summer.

Sansa shrugged.  “I don’t think she’s set it with Mum yet,” she replied, and took the brush out of Jeyne’s outstretched hand to dip it in the polish bottle.

“Well, make sure she gets you something nice, not frumpish like last year’s,” Jeyne said and reached up to grab the newest issue of Westeros Fashion Teen! from her bed.  She flipped over a few pages and held it out to Sansa.  “Something like this one.”

She pointed to a picture of a grinning blonde girl in a bright green choker top and a dark denim crop skirt with an artful slit lined with a swath of green and yellow plaid.  Sansa frowned.  Since when did Jeyne use the word frumpish?  Probably since her aunt had gotten her a subscription to the magazine for her birthday earlier that year, she decided.  That didn’t mean Grandma Stark would buy her an outfit like the one Jeyne had just shown her, though.  She would probably say the skirt was too short.  Besides, Sansa had liked last year’s outfit just fine, although perhaps she could persuade her grandmother to buy her a denim skirt in a longer length instead of her usual twill pants.

“We can’t be the idiot sixth-graders who walk into a load of eighth-graders looking like dorks,” Jeyne continued.  “Or a load of boys.  Lena says most of the boys in our year are hopelessly immature, but some of the seventh- and eighth-graders will treat you properly, or even ask you to the autumn dance, if you’re dressed smart and know your football teams.”  She grinned as she grabbed a bottle of nail enamel dryer from the shelf behind her.  “Myrcella Baratheon’s older brother Joffrey is in seventh this year, remember?  I saw her the other day, and she said he just broke up with Tyene Sand.”  Her voice rose with the hissing noise of the spray leaving the can.  “He and his mates are all gorgeous.  Just think if we each got one of them for the dance!”

Sansa would have asked whether the magazine subscription had made Jeyne get so superfluous about a load of boys, but then she had met Joffrey Baratheon before, and she did have to admit he was cute.  And it would be awfully nice to get asked to the dance – maybe then she could talk Mum into getting her another new dress that way, and she’d seen the loveliest pale blue one at the mall the other day.  And if a boy as popular and cute as Joffrey Baratheon asked her to the dance, maybe Eddara Tallhart and her friends would slack off calling Sansa a nerd, geek, dork, and prissy all the time.

Sansa peered down at her toenails and smiled.  The nail polish looked even prettier than she’d thought.  Maybe that magazine had done Jeyne some good after all.

-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-

October 17, 927 AC

Sansa wiped a stray strand of hair out of her face and opened her junk drawer for its annual cleaning.  One more drawer after this, and she could drag her ancient vacuum cleaner back to the closet and call it a day.  She might even eat the whole chocolate bar sitting in the refrigerator, instead of just half, both to mark the end of such an exhausting afternoon and to celebrate the fact that the twenty-year-old machine, which she’d bought back in college and had never been able to afford replacing, was still going strong.  God only knew she couldn’t afford to buy a new vacuum cleaner if this one bit the dust.

She snorted at her own unintentional pun and reached to the back of the drawer.  Her hand closed around an address book, two photo frames, and a tiny bottle with a smeared silver lid.  Sansa put down the other items and shook it out of instinct.  It was the first thing she’d done when she’d gotten her hands on Jeyne’s bottle of nail polish that Friday night after their dance recital.  Less than half the contents remained, and over the years they had separated until the layer of clear liquid on top was almost as thick as its more colorful counterpart on the bottom.  Sansa had nearly thrown it away any number of times, but she’d stopped trying a few years back.  It was, after all, all she had left of Jeyne.

Sansa put the bottle down and reached back to empty the drawer.  Ten more minutes and she could collapse into her chair and pay today’s bill, not to mention check the total, although she already knew what it would be.  She’d calculated it in her head every day for a month now.

After today’s payment of 451.87 Lions, she’d have 40,553.50 Lions left to pay.  If she paid the same amount – the maximum she could afford – every month, it would take 89.7459 months for her to pay it.  That translated to 7.4788 years.

7.4788 years until March 31, 936.

Sansa flipped the vacuum cleaner’s power switch on.  She would definitely have the whole chocolate bar tonight.

[chellyfishing]

Yes ma’am I will do that

The first book I read this month was called ten, by Gretchen McNeil. It’s kind of loosely an homage to Agatha Christie’s and then there were none, in that ten people get a mysterious invitation out to a remote island and are then gruesomely killed off one by one. In this case the ten people are teenagers coming for a teenage party where they do whatever it is teenagers do (piss? Memes? Skeletons?). Just because the guest list runs young doesn’t mean the author pulls any punches. The heroine is flawed but interesting and the book had potential, but it was kind of ruined for me by a really tone-deaf ending. It’s murder on the orient express where everybody’s happy the guy is dead, you fools! Wrong one!

I read the fall of the house of usher, by Poe, and I love Poe, because sasuga Chelle.

The next book was the goblins of bellwater, by Molly Ringle, whom I do not believe was in the breakfast club. This has a cool premise but kind of devolves for awhile into the horny heterosexuals of bellwater. The book drags while the four main characters seem to do not much but bang each other (not graphically, sorry), when the author could have spent time on idk literally anything else. I liked the main character whose name suddenly escapes me which I guess is telling, and I kind of liked her younger sister, but the boys pretty much bored me, and anyway, it could have been a lot better.

I’m thinking of ending things by Iain Reid is not bedtime reading, for the record. It’s easily one of the most tense books I’ve ever read. I spent most of the book eagerly going through the pages hoping to find out what the hell was even going on, and the end is kind of a punch in the gut that reframes the entire book and makes you think about little things like the meaning of life. Even typing this kinda makes me want to grab it and read it again, esp from the perspective of knowing what it all means now.

The bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton wilder is a book I’ve been meaning to read for a while, but last time I had to stop because it’s very melancholy—it’s literally all about five people who die in the collapse of a bridge. It’s a quick read if you don’t let it drag you down though, with some really beautiful prose and some more stuff on the meaning of life so it was good to read these two books back-to-back.

I somehow missed ever being assigned the westing game by Ellen rankin in school, I probably would have even actually read it. It’s uh. Hm. Quirky would be the best word I guess. I liked how everyone was sorta unlikable. It was usually in that vaguely cartoonish, this is a little over the top so I can’t quite actually hate you way. Ultimately I think I missed what it was actually meant to be about, which bodes ill for sixth graders everywhere. People are all sorta terrible in their own little ways but ultimately redeemable, I guess? Idk.

I loved the gentleman’s guide to vice and virtue by Mackenzi Lee. It was the fun and funny book I needed as a palette cleanser with the bisexual disaster lead we all deserve. I especially loved Felicity so I’m excited to read her book when I can. The other reason I read this aside from needing something less philosophically taxing was also because pride, everything i’d read was too straight and I needed some queer, so this was probably the highlight of the month in that sense for me.

I finally got around to finishing the middle omnibus of the Hawthorn witches series. There are three books each made up of three novellas. I breezed through the first three in a sitting, then got kinda bogged down during the second three. I read two of them awhile back, started on the third, and then just kind of put it aside indefinitely, so mostly this was kind of like finishing it to get it off the to-do list thing. Um, idk, it has its moments, but nothing’s really managed to capture the breezy fun of the start of the series. It drags a fair bit; even though stuff is technically happening, it’s also kind of not. It ended on enough of a cliffie that I almost wanted to start on the last three right away, but I knew better this time. Anyway I hope it has a stronger finish to make it worth it. One of the main “good guys” being AGGRESSIVELY UNLIKABLE doesn’t help, and I have a comparatively high tolerance for unlikable characters.

The prince by Jillian Dodd I think was another one I grabbed because I wanted to not think. if it were a person this book would be Allarica, whom i’d tag if I wasn’t on mobile. It’s about a teenage girl at spy school who goes on a glitzy high-profile spy mission to protect the prince of a country. Lots of dudes, lots of hooking up. The main character and most of her supporting cast are fun. I was glad she managed to retain a platonic relationship with at least one of the dudes, though that may have happened because of a theory I have about the series’ overall plot, but anyway. Oh, the main LI (if you can call him that?) is kind of a d-bag and I didn’t really care for him at all, but because it wasn’t the focus of the story I mostly just ignored him. Anyway I’ll probably read more if I catch further books on sale. I think this one was free when I got it so.

Aaaaand because I’m that person and it was on sale, I read the first Disney descendants novel by Melissa de la Cruz. Pacing issues aplenty but otherwise it was cheeky and cute and fun. I guess the books and movies are actually supposed to be one continuous series, as opposed to the films being adaptations of the books? I wouldn’t say everything lines up perfectly but. You know. Different media and different minds and all that. PS Mal and Evie are in love, the end.

[the-barrens-are-ours]

Rivals!Billverly anybody?

Bill and Beverly had been rivals, competing against each other in every little thing they did, since before they could remember

Ms. Denbrough and Ms. Marsh both remember though

Bill and Beverly were about four when they met for the first time at the playground in Memorial Park

Their moms were both happy at first to see the two kids playing and getting along nicely, until they started playing tag

One moment they were looking like they were becoming best friends, the next second they’re shouting over whether or not Beverly tagged Bill, or whether or not she was on base when he tagged her

The moms hoped they’d work it out, but Bill got annoyed by the fact Beverly had more stamina than him and Beverly got annoyed by the fact he was faster than her and they started pushing each other

By the time the moms got over to them, Bill was on the ground and Beverly was sitting on his back, pinning him down

It wasn’t until they were six, turning seven, that the two would see each other again

Bill had joined a little league soccer team and was actually a pretty good offensive player and managed to help get his team to the league’s championship game

Bill was beyond excited for this game, believing he’d be able to win it easily

His little brother, Georgie, was also watching the match, and he was determined to win for him. Georgie loved soccer

The match was just about to start, and Bill was elected the team captain to go up to represent the team for the coin toss

When Bill got up there, who else did he see but Beverly Marsh as the other team’s captain

The two shook hands, both feeling the unexplainable competitive urge to beat the other person

So the match starts, and surprise surprise, who’s the opposing teams star offensive player? Beverly Marsh

Both of them go harder than they’ve ever gone before in a soccer match

There may have been a few cheap shots here and there where they kicked the other person instead of the ball, but overall, they play competitively but fair

Both their teams notice how much more aggressive they’ve become and everyone’s kind of taken back

Even Bev’s coach is a bit frightened by her burning determination to kick Bill’s ass and she’s only like, six years old

The match gets down to the final few minutes, and up until then, Bill and Bev have pretty much dominated the ball the entire game but neither has been able to score

Until at last, Bill is able to slip by and get a shot in at the goalie who really stood no chance against Bill in the first place

It’s up one to zero and Beverly is enraged

She refuses to lose to Bill

Both coaches know if they continue to let the two go at each other as offensive players a fight between them will probably break out

Bill’s coach decides to switch Bill in as goalie, much to his distress

Without Bill there, the offensive crumbles and the fraile defense has become even weaker

Beverly stomps through them all like they’re ants

It’s down to the final few seconds of the match and Bev takes her shot at the goal right as time expires

The ball looks like it’s right about to go in, but being as fast as always, Bill’s able to stop it just in time

The match is over

Bill won this round, but Beverly knows that this is only the start of the war

Bill and Beverly both start school that fall, and though they’re not in the same class, they attend the same school

That doesn’t stop them from finding little ways to compete against each other

They race at recess, go all out on Field Day, try to see who’s smarter by comparing math homework sheets

Anything and everything is a competition to the two of them

The second grade spelling bee was an absolute nightmare

(Beverly won)

They raced to see who could memorize all the words to the third grade play first

(Bill had Beverly beat by three days)

They made the fourth grade science fair a hell for most people

(They both lost to Ben who made an impressive irrigation system model. Bev’s friend Richie got second, and neither of them got third. They both begrudgingly decided that was a draw)

Fifth grade the both fought to see who got to be first chair in band

(By the end of the year, they both were. But Bill mastered the saxophone way slower than Beverly did the flute.)

Sixth grade, they both tried to see who could sell the most during the fundraiser

(Beverly had Bill beat by a landslide. She had a natural charm to her that Bill lacked)

Middle school was a bit tricky

For years they had always been playing against each other in co-ed sport leagues like basketball, soccer, and volleyball, but now they were all divided up by gender so they could no longer play each other

Middle school offered less ways to compete against each other, and grades were hardly competitive either. They both had managed to become nearly straight A student’s with the occasional B thrown in there

One day though, Beverly came up with the idea that they both take up learning martial arts outside of school together

Bill, not one to back down from a challenge proposed by Beverly ever, agrees

And that’s how their rivalry continues: Literally fighting each other in martial arts tournaments

Of course, they still found the other occasional thing to challenge each other in

Eighth graders were offered co-ed track and that was quite the spectical to behold

Bev and Bill, despite being on the same school team, cared more about beating each other than the other school

Freshman year of high school, they both took the same debate class together and were so fearsome and passionate when debating half the class didn’t want to participate anymore

Sophomore year though, Georgie got really sick, and this seriously started to mess with Bill

It just seemed like he had a small bug that you could beat in a few days, but as days became weeks which became months, Georgie only got worse

Everything finally became too much for Bill one day

Beverly found Bill one day after school alone in a stairwell, crying

Beverly and Bill had never really been friends

They’d known each other forever, and they didn’t hate each other, but they were rivals not buddies

They competed against each other, trying to one up the other

Bill had always seemed like a nice guy to Beverly though

She would often see him joking around with his best friend Stan, smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world

While the side of Bill Beverly saw wasn’t exactly cold, it was much more stoic than how he usually seemed to be

So running into him alone and crying was an awkward situation for the both of them to say the least

Bill didn’t want Beverly to be there with him

He didn’t have anything against her, but she was a fearsome opponent and he didn’t want her to see him at his lowest and think of him as weak, or even worse, pity him

Bill refuses to speak to her, besides saying “go away,” but Bev refuses to leave

They were rivals, not enemies. She didn’t want him to feel terrible, so she stays, and she talks to him

At first, he doesn’t talk back, so she just rambles about whatever

But gradually, Bill calms down

He’s never seen such a polite and caring side to Beverly before

Of course he didn’t think of her as a monster

She just tended to act like one when up against him

Soon, Bill’s talking back, and it feels nice to just chat

They’ve known each other about a decade, but this was only the first time they’ve truly talked to each other like they were friends

It was good

From then on, they started being less competitive with each other, and a bit more friendly

Of course, best friends Stan and Richie notice the change in attitude their friends have towards each other

When they go to support them during their debate competition, all the two boys can do is roll their eyes at how ridiculous their friends are being

“It’s clear they care about each other,” Stan grumbles at some point, “why do they have to make things so difficult”

Richie snorts “They should just get a room and hook up already”

Stan hits him

(Of course the only people that hook up at the debate competition are Stan and Richie. They’ve been dragged to every match or competition Bill/Bev has competed in since they started being friends and despite their friend’s rivalry with each other, the two boys got along rather nicely)

Before the end of senior year, Georgie has made a complete recovery and is doing absolutely fine again

Bill is beyond relieved

Junior year rolls around, and Bev and Bill continue being rivals, but also become friends at the same time

They bet each other on who can get the better ACT and SAT scores, who can get accepted into a college first, all the usual stuff

By senior year though, that rivalry that became a friendship was now becoming something more

They both finally realized they’re pining over each other

(When Richie and Stan first heard about this they could help but facepalm because it was obvious they were pining over each other years ago but they were both so dense they couldn’t see they were absolutely obsessed with the other person)

At last, one day after practice, Bill finally gets up the courage to ask Bev to prom

“Have you gone soft on me, Denbrough?” “You wish, Marsh”

Bev, of course, accepts

When prom rolls around, the two are able to just enjoy the other’s company without trying to win something

It was a nice change

Yeah, I hit the text max so sorry this ending sucks ass but this was already kinda bad so y’all probably aren’t too let down anyways

[zephfair]

Day 21 HS AU Grimmichi

Yes, I know I’m posting a couple days out of order. I do what I want.

Day 21: High School AU

This is a continuation of the Childhood Friends AU fic. It also ends with a very NSFW scene so I’m cutting that off here and posting it on AO3, if smut is your thing.

“Hey Berry,” a loud male voice called out. “You look sweet!”

Ichigo froze in the hallway of the high school, memories tumbling back and making his heart race with remembered anxiety.

That voice. It sounded nothing like a sixth-grader. It was low and rather nice and knowing, somehow.

But the tone, the teasing, the emphasis on stringing out the word Beeerryyyy for maximum embarrassment. That was all “Grimmjow?”

Ichigo whipped around and looked for the Grimmjow he remembered, the skinny, gangly sixth-grader who’d moved away years before.

He certainly didn’t remember the tall, broad-shouldered guy leaning against the wall and smirking down at him. This dude had baby blue hair slicked back and somehow managed to make the high school uniform look as dangerous as leather and studs. “Grimmjow?!” Ichigo asked again.

“Lookin’ good, Berry,” Grimmjow pushed off the wall and sauntered over to him.

There was a murmur among the students pushing through the hall, and Ichigo clearly heard Keigo asking, “What’s a Grimmjow?”

“What are you doing here?” Ichigo asked, staring up into the bright blue eyes he remembered although now they looked harder.

Grimmjow made a show of looking around him. “Well, it’s a high school, and I’m a senior so...”

“You transferred in?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the last letter in an obnoxious way Ichigo immediately hated. “I thought I might have some fun my last year in school.”

“I can’t believe it,” Ichigo blurted, still staring into Grimmjow’s eyes. “All these years, not a word. And now you just show up out of the blue and go right back to being a dick.”

“It’s a gift,” Grimmjow said and brushed his shoulder with his as he passed. “See you around, sweet Berry.”

Ichigo gnashed his teeth, but he let him have the final word. His friends were staring open-mouthed. “Was that really Grimmjow? From elementary school?” Orihime asked.

“Apparently.”

“He was your best friend. He’d go to your house every day to play with your cat.”

“Our cat,” Ichigo automatically corrected and then swore. “I can’t believe out of all the schools in the country he had to come back to ours.”

“He looks like trouble,” Keigo said in a voice that was both anxious and admiring. Ichigo had to admit he was right. But he knew that Grimmjow more than looked like trouble—he was the very definition of it.

“We’ll just stay away from him. This is our junior year, and we’re going to enjoy it,” Ichigo said firmly. “And we don’t need to get messed up with Grimmjow.”

Despite his warning, Ichigo was looking for the bright blue head at lunch. His friends often went up to the roof or found a shady place in the courtyard when the weather was good, but Ichigo kept an eye out to see if Grimmjow would seek him out.

Of course he was relieved when he didn’t, of course, but he slumped down beside Chad and felt vaguely disappointed anyway.

Then he had to walk right into the path of Grimmjow and some old acquaintances. Ulquiorra and Nnoitra had both gone to their elementary school, and although Orihime had apparently stayed civil with the quiet, short one, Ichigo had just blithely ignored their existence.

They along with Szayelaporro had a reputation around the high school for finding and using certain pharmaceuticals and other things to alleviate the stress of life.

Grimmjow looked the tough bruiser bouncer who would take care of business by busting heads and kicking ass.

Ichigo couldn’t help but notice the massive amount of muscle Grimmjow had put on in all the right places, and it made his stomach knot with a different kind of anxiety. Grimmjow was looking him up and down too.

But he didn’t say anything as they passed each other, just smirked down at him. Ichigo’s stomach did a flip.

It lasted until after school when he was roped into helping clean up the classroom by Uryu who apparently was already trying to score brownie points. “I heard that your old best friend transferred in for his senior year,” Uryu said.

Ichigo sighed. “Grimmjow’s back. But it’s not like we’re still friends. I haven’t seen him since we were kids.”

Uryu pushed up his glasses and gave Ichigo the superior look he wore when he was doling out life advice. “Just remember that. It appears he has already taken up with some of the less savory elements of our school.”

“Last week you called me a less savory element,” Ichigo reminded him but Uryu only sniffed.

“I was talking about your and Chad’s propensity for unnecessary violence.”

“You know that we never pick fights. But we do defend ourselves and our friends.”

Uryu waved it off. “I’m not saying that you don’t think you have justification for your actions, but I am warning you to watch yourself around Grimmjow. If he is as troubled as he was as a child and now he chooses the same bad crowd—”

“You don’t know anything about Grimmjow and his ‘troubles’ as a child,” Ichigo said stiffly. “So stuff it. And he’s only been here one day. Who cares if he’s catching up with his old friends? Give him some time to settle in and find new friends.”

“Oh yes, because I’m sure he’s a straight-A student and all the honors clubs will be fighting over him.”

“You can be such an asshole sometimes,” Ichigo told him and slammed the last few chairs back in a temper. “I’m leaving. Next time, pick one of your friends to help you clean.”

“Ichigo—” he ignored Uryu’s tired protest and stormed out of the room, shrugging on his jacket as he went.

Of course Grimmjow was waiting right outside the school gates and fell into step with him. “You not in any clubs either?”

“I’m in the shut-the-hell-up club mostly.”

Grimmjow barked a laugh. “Me too.”

They walked in silence for a while until Ichigo realized “Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“You and your mom living in your old neighborhood?”

“My mom is living down south with her newest boyfriend,” Grimmjow shrugged. “I have an apartment in the building next to where I used to live.”

“No way. Huh.” Ichigo was dying to ask more questions, but if Grimmjow was anything like he used to be, he wouldn’t answer them anyway. “You wanna come over to my house?”

“You still in the same place? Your parents still together?”

“Yes and yes,” Ichigo sighed. “They’re just the same as always.”

“Your dad still do that weird thing with the straws up his nose when you go out for dinner?”

“Yes,” Ichigo groaned. “He still lives to embarrass us, but mostly it just humiliates my sisters now. Karin refuses to be seen in public with him.”

“Your sisters. I almost forgot about them. I guess they’re...bigger now.”

“Yeah. Yuzu’s a sweet kid. Karin’s kind of a pain in the ass, total smartass.”

“Guess she doesn’t take after her brother then.”

“Hey!” When Ichigo bumped Grimmjow he moved just about as far as he’d done when they were kids. “Dammit, you’re still bigger than me.”

“I’ll always be looking down on you, Berry,” Grimmjow smirked and bumped him back.

“Saw you with some of your old buddies today at lunch,” Ichigo couldn’t look at him while he tried a hand at being a responsible, maturing adult. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but they have a certain...reputation around the school.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. Everybody knows they cut school, drink, smoke, although,” Ichigo eyed the pack of cigarettes that Grimmjow had taken out of his backpack, “that might not be a problem for you.”

“Sounds like my kinda guys,” Grimmjow agreed, shaking out a cigarette before offering the pack to Ichigo who held up a hand.

“Just...be careful,” Ichigo tried again. “Some of the teachers and administrators are cool but a couple are real hardasses. I don’t want to see you get in trouble right away.”

“Such a sweet Berry,” Grimmjow teased, blowing his smoke away from Ichigo who pointedly fanned the air anyway.

“Just watch yourself.”

“Why don’t you keep a close eye on me instead?”

“You’re a big boy. Man up,” Ichigo said and indicated the turn to his house. “You coming in?”

Grimmjow stopped and took another drag of his cigarette. “Not today. Later.”

“See ya,” Ichigo waved and finished his walk, all the time aware of the heat of eyes on his back.

His mother looked up from the stove and smiled when he called out that he was home.

“You’re never going to believe who just transferred into our school,” he began.

*******

Grimmjow just happened to be outside the school fence smoking in the morning when Ichigo arrived, his old pals surrounding him. He waved a hand and Ichigo nodded in his direction.

Then a group of tough-looking thugs that Ichigo was all too familiar with swaggered in the other direction—straight for Ichigo. He really wished that Chad had been running late that morning too.

The leader of the group stopped right in Ichigo’s face. “We still owe you for that little incident down by the river.”

Ichigo made a show of rolling his eyes. “You mean the smackdown Chad and I handed to you and your friends for harassing those girls?”

“It wasn’t a smackdown. You cheated!”

Ichigo wiped the spittle off his cheek with disgust. “Yeah, two of us took on six of you and won fair and square. That’s pretty much the definition of a smackdown. Or would you prefer beat down? Or massacre?”

“You little prick, think you’re so smart.”

Ichigo grabbed his wrist and twisted right as his fist came towards Ichigo’s face. He kept twisting until the guy went to his knees. The guy’s friends rushed forward then practically squealed to a stop. Ichigo didn’t know why until he felt the heavy arm drape itself over his shoulders.

“What do you assholes think you’re doing?” Grimmjow asked the group.

“He’s beating on our boss. Again,” one finally spoke up.

“Again?” Grimmjow scoffed and kicked out, booting the leader right in the ribs. He howled but didn’t go down since Ichigo was still holding his arm. “Sounds like you pussies need a new boss. One who’s tougher and smarter. You should know better than to mess with him,” he jerked his head toward Ichigo. “Or me,” he grinned and it showed most of his teeth.

The gang was already backing up, and when Ichigo let go of the leader’s arm with a huff, he scurried backwards quickly.

“You haven’t heard the last of me, Kurosaki,” the leader spat out. “I don’t care whose cock you’re suck— oof” He shut up quickly when Grimmjow stepped forward and kicked him in the jaw.

Then he hunched down toward the groaning leader. “You’d better learn how to talk to your superiors or you’ve got a whole world of hurt coming.” He stood up and said to the gang, “Take him to the nurse and tell her how he fell on his face.”

He turned back to Ichigo and ignored them as they carried-dragged the moaning senior away. “They ruined my smoke.”

“You ruined that guy’s day,” Ichigo said.

“Ask me if I care.”

“I could have handled him. I’ve done it before.”

“I know. I hear you have quite the reputation now as a punk and a fighter, you and your big friend,” Grimmjow brushed past him and said low in his ear, “I can’t wait to try you.”

“Let’s go now,” Ichigo said, his blood still boiling from the encounter.

“Some things are worth waiting for, to do right,” Grimmjow said. “Did you learn anything from me? You were such a whiny, crying, mama’s boy. Can’t wait to see you in action.”

“After school,” Ichigo promised and Grimmjow smiled.

Only he wasn’t waiting outside or by the gate when Ichigo got there. Figuring he knew when he’d been blown off, Ichigo started home by himself.

Then Grimmjow stepped out of a convenience store right in front of him, holding two sodas in one hand and a bag in the other. He pressed one of the sodas into Ichigo’s chest. “Here.”

Ichigo looked at the can in amusement. “I haven’t drunk one of these in forever.”

“Me either.” Grimmjow cracked his open and drank then sputtered. “Did it always taste like shit?”

“Probably,” Ichigo tried his and coughed. “We obviously didn’t have good taste as kids.”

“Speak for yourself,” Grimmjow said and offered him the bag. It was full of candy and snacks.

Ichigo laughed. “If I told you that would ruin my dinner, would you laugh at me?”

“Definitely.”

But Ichigo pulled a chocolate bar from the bag anyway. “I thought we were going to rumble.”

“Plenty of time for that.”

They started walking as they made a dent in the bag of snacks. Ichigo realized they were headed in the direction of home so he offered again, “You wanna come to my house? I told my parents you were back, and they’re anxious to see you again.”

Grimmjow looked like he straightened his slouch for a moment. “I guess so. Only to say hi to your mom. She was cool.”

“I take after her.”

“She was the only cool one in your entire family.”

“Liar.”

“Your dad,” Grimmjow reminded him and Ichigo grimaced.

“You have a point there.”

When they got to Ichigo’s home, Ichigo watched Grimmjow steel himself before stepping inside. He needn’t have bothered because the house was controlled chaos, as usual. Yuzu and Karin zeroed in on them as soon as they entered.

“Ichigo, have you seen my cleats? They were here at the door this morning.”

“Ichigo, do you still have the report you did on Australia? I picked it for my research project too. Who’s your friend?”

“Is that candy? You gonna share?”

Then his mother stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Girls, let them get inside at least. And I hope that is not candy because dinner will be ready in an hour.” She walked towards them wiping her hands on a tea towel and smiled broadly. “Grimmjow! You grew up so handsome!”

She hugged him, and Ichigo was struck by how Grimmjow towered over her compared to the last hug they shared. His mother must have thought so too because she laughed and reached up to pat his head. “And you grew up so tall too!”

“You haven’t aged a day, Mrs. Kurosaki,” Grimmjow told her and she smiled smugly at her children.

“See kids, now that’s what we call good manners. This is why Grimmjow will get a special dessert tonight.”

At the general outcry, she laughed and pulled Grimmjow by the hand. “Come in and tell us where you’ve been all these years.”

Grimmjow actually looked flustered by all the attention and as much as Ichigo would have liked to see him suffer, he decided to take pity on him. “Actually, Mom, I think someone else wants to see Grimmjow.”

“Oh. Right. Well, don’t keep him all to yourself, Ichigo. And be ready for dinner.”

“Sure, Mom.” Ichigo led the way to his room and set his bookbag down on his desk. Grimmjow was looking around the room.

“It looks like I remember it,” he said.

Ichigo snorted. “Are you saying I have the taste of a fifth-grader?”

“Nah, it just looks like you.”

Ichigo glanced around at the posters on the walls and the general detritus of a teenage boy’s bedroom. “Messy?”

Grimmjow laughed and flopped down on the bed, making himself at home.

Ichigo leaned down beside the bed then looked beneath it. “I thought so. Will you come out? I have a surprise for you.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” Grimmjow rolled onto his side to watch Ichigo.

Ichigo sat up holding a very large cat. Its black ears were folded back and it gazed at him suspiciously. Much like he had years before, Ichigo dropped it on Grimmjow who let out an oof when the weight hit him in the stomach.

“Pantera?” Grimmjow wheezed. “He’s a fat fuck.”

Pantera gave him a withering look and moved onto the bed to begin grooming himself.

“He’s not fat. He’s fluffy,” Ichigo said.

“Why was he hiding under the bed?” Grimmjow held his fingers up to Pantera who turned his nose away and made a show of ignoring him as only a cat could.

“My sisters have whined for years about getting a kitten so my parents finally gave in. Pantera can’t stand Kon.”

Grimmjow had been carding his fingers through the long fur of Pantera’s tail, but when Ichigo said the hated name, Pantera flipped his tail out of reach and turned to pounce on Grimmjow’s hand.

“Son of a—” Grimmjow yelled when the claws came out.

“I think he remembers you,” Ichigo said dryly.

Grimmjow rolled over so he could bring both hands up to play-fight the cat. Pantera was on his back and trying valiantly to kill at least one of Grimmjow’s hands.

“Speak of the devil,” Ichigo said, looking at the doorway.

Grimmjow leaned his head up to see a half-grown ginger cat, fluffy as fuck, wearing a pink frilly collar around its neck sneak into the room.

Kon went straight to Ichigo sitting on the floor and curled up on his lap. He kneaded at Ichigo’s pants and purred.

“How cozy. He likes you,” Grimmjow told him.

“Yeah. But Pantera is still my best cat.” Ichigo looked with dismay at the kitten using him as a bed.

“I don’t think you get to choose,” Grimmjow said. Then he went back to playing with Pantera who had declared a truce with Grimmjow’s hands as long as they worked magic on all his favorite scratching spots. He even favored Grimmjow with a quick grooming of his wrist which Grimmjow solemnly thanked him for.

Ichigo dumped Kon off his lap and stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. Don’t trash my room while I’m gone.”

“I know you’re talking to that cat and not me.”

“I’ll trust Pantera to keep an eye on you.”

When Ichigo returned, it didn’t look like Pantera had listened either. Kon was up on the bed, fluffed to his maximum floof, doing the funny arch-backed strut around Grimmjow’s hands. Every few seconds, Grimmjow would quickly poke him and Kon would arch more and strut back the other way.

Pantera looked on from the pillow by Grimmjow’s head where he was sitting in loaf formation and rubbing against Grimmjow’s cheek which he occasionally licked.

“Quit seducing my cat,” Ichigo said.

“You jealous?” Grimmjow rolled over and blinked like a huge cat himself. “‘Cause I can seduce you instead.”

Ichigo blustered something but was saved when Kon, frustrated from losing Grimmjow’s attention, jumped right onto his face. Grimmjow’s shout was muffled but Pantera let out a scream and batted at Kon who only hunkered down more making Grimmjow shout again.

Ichigo burst out laughing and had to hold his sides. Grimmjow finally dislodged Kon by sitting up but that made him fall into Grimmjow’s lap which made Grimmjow swear until Kon got all his feet under him and ran, bouncing onto the floor and zooming past Ichigo to escape the room.

Pantera rubbed against Grimmjow and made concerned noises while Ichigo tried to stop laughing and breathe. Grimmjow was glaring at him which only made him laugh harder. “You’re an asshole,” Grimmjow told him.

“I wish I’d recorded that,” Ichigo had to wipe tears from his eyes.

“Now I remember why I hate you.”

His mother’s call echoed up the stairs, “If you two boys are done rough-housing get your butts down here for dinner!”

Ichigo learned that one thing about Grimmjow hadn’t changed—he still ate like a horse. Only this time he was old enough to regularly compliment Mrs. Kurosaki’s cooking and grin at her when she pretended to be embarrassed.

“Doesn’t it bother you that he’s flirting with your wife right in front of you?” Ichigo stage-whispered to his father while his mother loaded Grimmjow’s plate again and giggled at one of his jokes.

“She’s a very attractive woman; it’s no surprise that other men lust over her.” Ichigo and Karin gagged at Isshin’s response.

“Oh, darling, you have nothing to worry about,” Masaki dropped a kiss on Isshin’s cheek which made all three of her children shudder. “I’m not in the market for a younger model. Yet.”

“Ah, my dearest, you tease me because you love me!” Isshin grabbed her face and lavished kisses all over it to the loud protests of her family. Grimmjow just sat and ate, looking very amused by the whole situation.

“I know I don’t have to remind you boys to do your homework,” Masaki said once they had helped clear the table. “But if you get done early, I have more cake as a reward.”

“Geez, Mom. Are you trying to make us fat?”

“Neither one of you have to worry about that. Now, quit distracting your sisters. I can’t believe the teachers give so much work this early in the year.”

Ichigo led the way back upstairs but he sat on the bed before Grimmjow could sprawl out again. Kon had disappeared but Pantera was still asleep on Ichigo’s pillow.

“Do you have any homework?”

Grimmjow shrugged then yawned, stretching his hands up almost to the ceiling. Ichigo saw a glimpse of skin as his shirt pulled free from his pants and when he turned, he saw a hint of ink. “Do you have a tattoo?”

Grimmjow looked surprised then involuntarily felt his back. “Yeah. You wanna see.”

Ichigo leaned forward and Grimmjow turned sideways and lifted his shirt. It was a stylized numeral 6 in crisp black ink. “What’s it mean?”

“It was my rank in the … in a club I was in.”

Ichigo pretended like he didn’t hear the slip up. “You got anymore?”

Grimmjow’s smirk was slow. “Yeah. But I don’t know if you’re ready to see it.”

Ichigo tried to give him a glare but he could feel his cheeks turning red. “I actually do have work to do so if you wanna stay, stop distracting me.”

“Sure thing,” Grimmjow strolled around the room while Ichigo went to his desk and began pulling out his books. Grimmjow found his shelf of manga and made himself comfortable on the bed again, sharing the pillow with Pantera.

He said suddenly, “Remember when we’d do our homework at your table and your dad would pretend he didn’t know how to do the math problems.”

“I don’t think it was a joke. He sucks at math,” Ichigo said dryly. “Mom does all the banking and accounting for the clinic. He stopped helping me in elementary school.”

Grimmjow laughed lowly. “They would always take me home at night. It’s like they didn’t trust me to walk alone.”

“It wasn’t that they didn’t trust you. They worried about you. A lot.”

“Crazy,” Grimmjow said.

Ichigo went to work and when he looked over the next time, Grimmjow was asleep, curled on his side, Pantera nestled against his chest purring gently.

Ichigo debated for only a second before snapping pictures of the scene. Then he reached over Pantera and shook Grimmjow awake. “It’s getting late. You want a ride home?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Grimmjow yawned widely, looking uncannily similar to Pantera when he did the same thing. “Thank your mom for dinner for me.”

“I will.” Ichigo trailed him back through the house as he recovered his backpack, jacket and finally his shoes at the door. “You’re welcome here any time, you know.”

Grimmjow looked at him sharply. “I’ll be sure not to wear out my welcome. But I wanted to ask you, the guys are throwing a party Saturday night to celebrate the new school year. You wanna come?”

Ichigo scratched the back of his head. “I’ve never gone to one of their parties because they can get a little...rowdy.”

“They’re the best kind,” Grimmjow grinned. “Come on, Ichigo. Meet me at Szayelaporro’s Friday night.”

“Okay, fine, one party.” Ichigo gave in just to see Grimmjow’s grin widen.

*******

As soon as Ichigo walked into the party, he knew he’d made a mistake. There was no masking the smoke and the smell, and no one was trying to hide the multitude of liquor bottles on every horizontal surface. It seemed like it was already in full-swing since even the people dancing to the loud music were moving slowly and bonelessly.

Ichigo saw Ulquiorra and made a path toward him. “Where’s Grimmjow?” he demanded.

Ulquiorra looked at him with eyes dilated wide. “He wills where he wants.”

“That’s nice, thanks a fucking lot for nothing.” Ichigo glared around the dimly lit apartment again. Still no sight of a tall blue-haired form that should have stood out. He pushed his way through the people down the hall. Grimmjow was crowded into a corner leaning over a girl.

Ichigo grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, suddenly even more furious. “Grimmjow, what the fuck!”

Grimmjow grinned at him and leaned so close that Ichigo could clearly see that his pupils were blown huge too. When he said Ichigo’s name, Ichigo could smell the overpowering odor of alcohol.

“Come on, Grimmjow. We’re getting out of here.” Ichigo dug in his heels preparing for a fight, but Grimmjow just slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him even closer.

“Wait, where are you going?” the girl pawed at Grimmjow’s chest, but he brushed off her hands without even looking.

“Come on,” Ichigo got him turned down the hallway and started forward. As long as he let Grimmjow hold onto him, he moved willingly through the crowd. Ichigo got another glimpse of Ulquiorra who still stood motionless in the kitchen watching them leave.

Once out of the apartment, Ichigo took a deep breath of fresh air and studied Grimmjow closer. He had definitely taken something, and drank something, and there were bright lipstick stains all over his face and neck.

“I’m taking you home,” he announced and Grimmjow leaned down to breath heavily into his ear.

“I can’t wait. Take me home.”

Ichigo shivered but at least Grimmjow was moving. Ichigo tried to ignore the hand sliding off his shoulder, down to his waist, to rest on his ass. He got Grimmjow to the right neighborhood and Grimmjow was able to stumble to the right apartment and even help him with the keys.

The tiny one-room apartment was a mess, but Ichigo pointed him at the futon and he went down in a rush. The only problem was he was still holding onto Ichigo who went down on top of him.

Grimmjow squirmed under him, and Ichigo held himself still until Grimmjow apparently had him arranged where he wanted: lying on top, his head cushioned on Grimmjow’s chest, Grimmjow’s legs to either side of his. It wasn’t remotely comfortable and worse, it was terribly intimate.

Ichigo started peeling himself off and ignored Grimmjow’s grumbles. “You are such a dumbass,” Ichigo told him when he could finally stand up.

Grimmjow just lounged on the mussed futon and grinned up at him. “Get back down here.”

“No,” Ichigo walked a few steps to the opposite wall and pulled out his phone. “Dad, yeah, it’s me. Hey, Grimmjow is all kinds of messed up from that party he was at. Yes, I know the recovery position. Yes, I’ll give him water. No, I didn’t take any shit, I was only there long enough to get him out. I might have to stay over to make sure he’s okay. Yeah, all right, thanks, Dad.”

Grimmjow was still grinning up at him. Ichigo nudged him with his foot but he easily evaded Grimmjow grabbing at him. “I’ll have to stay to make sure you don’t wake up dead.”

Grimmjow laughed and stretched. “Why don’t you come down here and keep me company?”

“Why don’t I make you some coffee? Or tea?” Ichigo went to the kitchenette and started rummaging. “Jeez, Grimmjow, how do you live like this? You got nothing here.”

“I don’t need much.”

Ichigo rooted in the fridge and found nothing but energy drinks. He finally emptied a bottle, rinsed it and filled it with water that he took back and offered Grimmjow. He sat up and drank thirstily.

“So do you do this kind of shit often?”

“Sometimes,” Grimmjow wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “At my last school I did whatever the hell I wanted to. Go party, bring home a girl, have fun for a night. My mom was never home so no one cared.”

“Then why’d you come back here?”

Grimmjow slumped back down to the futon. “Because no matter what I did, I couldn’t forget this fucking little kid who rescued a bunch of cats for me.”

“You damn softie,” Ichigo said and sat down on the floor beside the futon.

Grimmjow rolled so he could look at Ichigo. “It’s always been you.”

Then he lunged over and tried to catch Ichigo’s head. Ichigo pulled away and Grimmjow ended up halfway on top of him. He moved his head far enough to kiss Ichigo’s chin and tried for his mouth before Ichigo was able to get a hand on his face and another on his shoulder and push him away.

“What the hell was that for?”

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I moved back to town.”

Ichigo pulled away and got to his feet. “You need to sleep this off.”

“Stay with me,” Grimmjow reached up for him but Ichigo forced himself to back away and sit down on the opposite side of the room. He leaned against the wall and sighed.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning if you still feel this way.”

“It’s been six damn years, of course I still feel this way.”

Ichigo squeezed his eyes closed. “Grimm, just go to sleep.”

Grimmjow grumbled for a while and drank the rest of the water but he finally did fall asleep. Ichigo sat and watched him for a long while. Grimmjow was laying on his side and seemed to be breathing easily. Ichigo refilled the bottle with water and set it beside him. Then he pulled the crumpled sheet over him and left.

********

Ichigo didn’t get much sleep that night, replaying Grimmjow’s drunken conversation over and over. He wondered how much was the alcohol and drugs talking. And if Grimmjow would even remember the whole thing. Ichigo didn’t want to be the first one to bring it up, but he also didn’t want to leave Grimmjow miserable and alone.

The tossing and turning made him sleep in, and he grudgingly evaded his dad’s usual attempt at grievous bodily harm before finally getting out of bed.

He was poking listlessly at a late lunch when the doorbell rang. His mom answered it, and Ichigo heard her say, “Wow, you look terrible. Do you want something to eat?”

Grimmjow’s rough voice declined and then he appeared beside Ichigo. Masaki looked from one to the other before she said, “We’re getting ready to go to Karin’s soccer game. We won’t be home until after dinner, so if you want something, order pizza.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Ichigo yawned and she stuck her tongue out at him. Then she patted Grimmjow on the cheek and started rounding up the rest of the family.

Ichigo chewed methodically until he finished his meal. Grimmjow just sat beside him silently.

Masaki popped back into the kitchen. “I almost forgot again! I wanted to give this to you the other night. Grimmjow, this is for you.” She handed him a soft package wrapped in tissue paper.

Grimmjow slid his thumb under the tape and pulled the paper open. Then he stared. Ichigo looked over his shoulder and stared too.

It was the small, fuzzy blanket with the tiger on it that Grimmjow had given to the mother cat when he found her and her kittens.

For the first time since Grimmjow returned, Ichigo see could the lonely, scared little sixth-grader that made his life hell and then became his best friend in his expression as he slowly ran his hand over the blanket.

“I had to disinfect it I don’t know how many times to get the cat smell out,” Masaki was saying, “but I wanted to save it for you. It seemed special.”

“Yeah,” Grimmjow said roughly. “Thanks.”

“We’re leaving now. Have fun. And no smoking in the house, please.”

“See you later, Mom.”

Ichigo never took his eyes off Grimmjow who was still staring down at the blanket.

“You okay?” Ichigo finally asked when he got up to take his plate to the sink.

“I’m fine. You gonna lecture me about last night?”

“No, no lecture. It’s your life and you can do what you want with it.” Ichigo poured himself a glass of water. “I just think you’re being a dumbass.”

“Noted.”

Ichigo finally turned to face Grimmjow. “You wanna go up to my room?”

“Sure.”

Ichigo didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t know if he should even raise the issue. Grimmjow probably didn’t remember it anyway, so why bring it up?

“Hey, buddy, look who’s here,” Ichigo said to Pantera who sat on his bed and meowed a greeting. He jumped off and ran to Grimmjow, twining around his ankles. “He remembers you.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking of him either,” Grimmjow sat heavily on his bed then picked up Pantera and put him in his lap. “You two were all I could remember.”

Ichigo’s stomach clenched. “Yeah? What do you remember about last night?”

Grimmjow looked him right in the eyes. “Everything. You told me we’d talk about it later, if I still felt the same, and I do. I always have. Ever since you were just a snot-nosed little brat who cried over everything.”

“Geez, Grimmjow.” Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t wanna waste any more time,” Grimmjow said roughly. “I never told you I had a huge crush on you when we were kids. It’s why I was such an asshole to you. Only then you made me be your friend and then I had to leave and,” his voice trailed off as he looked down at Pantera. “Then I couldn’t stop thinking about you and wondering how you were and what you were doing. I got the crazy idea to move back here and find you before you went away to college.”

He looked back up at Ichigo fiercely. “As soon as I saw you, all those old feelings came back and I realized I still had a crush on you. Only now, you’re even better, and I had to go and ruin it last night.”

Ichigo couldn’t move, could only stare at him in shock. He tried to say something but wasn’t even sure how to begin. Finally he croaked, “You didn’t ruin anything last night.”

Grimmjow laughed bitterly. “You saw me at my worst. I can get like that sometimes, when things are too much to handle.”

“You’ve had a lot to handle in life,” Ichigo said. “I’m not into that. But it’s your choice.”

“Given a choice, I would pick you every fucking time.”

Ichigo couldn’t look away from the sincerity of Grimmjow’s eyes. He said slowly, “I thought about you too, after you left. I missed you so bad. Since you came back, I think about you all the time. Just not in the same way. I mean, I think about you in different ways now than when I was little.”

“What kind of ways?” Grimmjow’s voice deepened. “Sexy ways?”

Ichigo was sure that the hot blush creeping across his cheeks was answer enough but Grimmjow didn’t say anything. “Yeah,” Ichigo finally admitted.

“You ever have a boyfriend, Ichigo?” Grimmjow asked as he set Pantera on the bed and stood up.

“No,” Ichigo had to tip his head up to follow Grimmjow’s eyes when he stepped in close.

“You got one now.” Grimmjow cupped the side of his face in his long fingers and ran his thumb over Ichigo’s bottom lip. Then he followed it with his mouth.

Ichigo felt the warmth and firmness of his lips and instinctively leaned closer. His hands came up without any instruction and held on to Grimmjow’s upper arms. Grimmjow’s other hand went around his lower back and pulled him ever closer as Grimmjow’s tongue teased at the seam of his lips.

“Open your mouth, Ichigo,” he whispered, the words tickling Ichigo’s lips until he obeyed. The kiss deepened and Ichigo held on as they breathed in each other and Grimmjow thoroughly learned the shape of his lips.

“You okay with this?” Grimmjow asked, pulling back just far enough so that he could look at Ichigo’s face. Ichigo felt like he should have been embarrassed at how out of breath and panting he was, but all he could think was more, more, more.

He tipped his face up and kissed Grimmjow, moving a little too fast and pinching Grimmjow’s upper lip between their teeth. But when he would have pulled back, mortified, Grimmjow just growled and flicked his tongue out, delving into Ichigo’s mouth and teasing his own tongue into playing.

Ichigo finally understood what all the fuss was about kissing as he followed Grimmjow’s lead and soon caught on to the rhythm and movement he seemed to like. Just when he’d chanced to suck on Grimmjow’s tongue, Grimmjow moaned and pulled back.

“Sorry,” Ichigo said but Grimmjow just rested his forehead against Ichigo’s for a moment.

“What’re you sorry about?” he panted.

“I thought I did something wrong.”

Grimmjow huffed out a laugh and kissed Ichigo’s forehead. “You’re doing everything right,” he assured. “I just don’t wanna take this any further than you want it to go.”

“I want you,” Ichigo said, and until he said it out loud, he didn’t realize how incredibly true it was. He finally admitted to himself that he wanted Grimmjow in every way, not just as friends or buddies.

He ran his hands from Grimmjow’s arms slowly across his chest and then down. He felt Grimmjow suck in a breath and the hard muscles under his curious hands tightened even more. Then he moved them around Grimmjow’s lower back and up, pulling Grimmjow closer.

“Ichigo,” Grimmjow moaned and nuzzled into his ear, kissing his way down his neck. Ichigo tilted his head so he could have better access. He felt Grimmjow’s hand move slowly up his back, taking the hem of his T-shirt with it. Grimmjow asked, “Can I?”

Ichigo nodded and Grimmjow stepped back long enough to peel Ichigo’s shirt off with a little help. Then he fell on his collarbones with kisses and nips that made Ichigo squeal an embarrassing noise. Grimmjow chuckled as he bit gently into the strong muscle at the top of Ichigo’s shoulders and that made Ichigo moan. One of his questing hands came up to Ichigo’s chest, smoothing over his pec and finding his nipple. The unexpected thrill that thumbing over it caused Ichigo to buck his hips involuntarily.

“You’re so responsive,” Grimmjow whispered into his ear then licked the whorl of it. “You get me so hard.”

“Me too,” Ichigo said, even though he knew there was no way Grimmjow could have missed the hard bulge that was rubbing against his hip bone.

“Can I go down on you?” Grimmjow asked him, still whispering as though the intimacy would offend the quiet stillness of Ichigo’s room.

***For the rest of this NSFW scene, go here to AO3.

[ashleyspinelliburnbook]

S1E6: My Fair Gretchen/Speedy, We Hardly Knew Ye

Me, literally one recap ago: “When are we gonna get a good Gretchen episode?”

Me, today, looking at the title of the next episode and refusing to be embarrassed: “WELL, FINALLY”

My Fair Gretchen

The most pressing revelation here is that “Recess” apparently takes place in Arkansas, as the episode begins with Miss Finster handing out the Arkansas Standard Achievement Test.

Beyond that, this is a lovely ~ironic subversion~ of the “My Fair Lady” trope. Let me explain: “My Fair Lady” is all about turning Eliza Doolittle into a more acceptable member of high society, right? Turning her from Cockney to, well, refined?

Here, we’ve got Gretchen, who’s by no means a member of high society, but the goal isn’t to get her there either. See, Gretchen is smart — very smart — to the point that she gets a perfect score on the ASAT. She’s called into Principal Prickly’s office, where she learns that she has the opportunity to go to Oppenheimer Elementary for the Incredibly, Extremely Gifted. (Of course, Prickly has a vested interest in this too. If two more of his kids go there, he gets that job at Spiro Agnew Middle School!)

But...Gretchen doesn’t really want to go to Oppenheimer. Her mom is excited to hear the news, but it just makes Gretchen sad. And when she tells her friends she’s on the fence about what she’s learned, they decide to take action.

After Gretchen takes one last walk around the school, saying goodbye to the swingset, the graffiti, and the rancid fish sticks in the dumpster, she gets home to find...the gang! And they’ve got a plan to de-smart her so that when she goes in front of the Oppenheimer review board the next day, they’ll have no choice but to turn her down.

“I’ve been trying to dumb myself down ever since kindergarten,” Gretchen says, to which TJ replies, “This time, you’ve got experts on your side.”

“Yo, Prickly,” New Gretchen says as she walks into the gym for her review. After a whirlwind day of trying new looks (courtesy of the Diggers, the Ashleys, the kindergarteners), she shows up in, um, I’m not a fashion person but she’s coming off as very...not this decade? Wow, helpful.

So yeah, instead of going for “refined,” we get, well, the opposite of that. But here, it’s also the socially acceptable landing point. Instead of being a super-genius who aces standardized tests, Gretchen is now...just like any other kid.

The board, pictured above, asks Gretchen a handful of trivia questions, and she gets them all spectacularly wrong (“Who was the 14th president of the United States?” “Dennis Rodman?”). From outside, the gang celebrates her achievement...until the plan backfires.

A humiliated Principal Prickly accuses Gretchen of cheating on the exam, and Gretchen can’t help but recite all of the correct answers to their questions, in order, with perfect accuracy. Albert Einstein (you see him, come on) asks why she was hiding her intelligence, and she explains she doesn’t want to go to the new school. The board banishes Prickly to the hallway, where he and the gang await Gretchen’s fate.

When they emerge, Einstein explains that Gretchen convinced the board that there's more to education than book-learnin’ (which sort of reminds me of “Bart the Genius,” where Bart initially tries to convince the gifted school he has cheated his way into to let him go back to his old school undercover, “to see what makes ‘em tick”).

The board suggests the school instead implement a tutorial program, and the episode ends with Gretchen teaching...a room full of teachers. As it should be.

Takeaway: Every time I see an episode about a gifted kid/genius kid, I think about all the memes that go, like, “if you were ever a ‘gifted kid’ in school, you’re depressed now,” and...yeah. Imagine having all this pressure to succeed in fourth grade, you know?

Speedy, We Hardly Knew Ye

(Today in “trying something new on the blog,” I want to share something I wrote a few years ago that pretty much says what I would have written here anyway. The episode is about the class hamster, Speedy, dying, and how the kids react to it.)

In middle school, I had two opportunities to take part in Challenge Day, a day-long anti-bullying program meant to bring to the forefront all the deeply personal things that participants have in common, all while celebrating their diversity and inspiring them to dismantle the structure that causes these differences to drive them apart.

Being middle schoolers — 11-, 12-, and 13-year-olds in the thick of maintaining childhood friendships, facing new encounters, and experiencing puberty — there was a wide range of expectations for the event and the reactions throughout it. Many students saw the day solely as an opportunity to be able to skip school, while several of us read the material given to us with our permission slips and at least vaguely understood that our emotions — and our beliefs — would be tested.

The first time I did Challenge Day was in sixth grade, and at first, my primary concern was that my best friend and had been separated, relegated to participating on different days. But when the 100 or so of us entered the gym, whose windows had been blacked out to avoid any interruptions from the other 300 students on campus, the specially-trained Challenge Day leaders made every opportunity to pull us out of our comfort zones right away. Suddenly, we were sprinting within a massive circle of chairs, instructed to find a new seat, and found ourselves sitting between two people we’d never met to whom we would then have to introduce ourselves.

Eventually, we split into small groups of 6 or 7 — similarly randomly assigned, paired with a parent volunteer — and talked more candidly about our worries, how we truly felt going to school every day, and even our personal tragedies. The point here was to prove that we were able to open up to a group of strangers following all of the icebreaker activities we’d completed. And, from what my friend had told me after completing her Challenge Day the previous day, this portion of the day was where everyone started crying. While a good number of the students who were just happy to have the day off from school didn’t take this part seriously, I really wanted to – and luckily, both times, my group was just as keen.

I don’t much remember what I shared at that first Challenge Day, but in eighth grade I was dealing with both that friend’s sudden move to a school two hours away and the death of my hamster, my first real pet, and I felt I had a lot to talk about. The students in my group were very receptive to what I had to say, and one even took me aside after we moved on from the small group activities and complimented my candidness, saying I was very brave to cry for my friend and my pet.

Unfortunately, the parent volunteer in our group was less sympathetic. On the Challenge Day website, it states that volunteers receive a quick overview of the day before students arrive, and that’s it. Sadly, you can’t teach sympathy in half an hour. When I almost immediately starting sobbing about my troubles and was met with kindness by my fellow middle school-aged group members, this woman promptly interrupted me.

“Are you sure you’re not just getting caught up in the emotions, sweetheart?” she asked, her attempted pleasantness pierced by skepticism. “At your age, you’re too old to be crying about hamsters and one lost friend. There are more hamsters, and there are more friends.”

What could I do? I was a shy, insecure 13-year-old who was clearly overwhelmed by my own hardships — albeit comparatively minute to what some members of the group had shared — and all this woman could do was point out my perceived weaknesses and trivialize feelings I thought were legitimate and sincere. So I gave in. I nodded.

“Mm-hmm,” she confirmed, her face lit up in victory. “You need to learn to be stronger. That’s what today is all about. Let’s move on to someone else.”

Of course, because of the quiet, non-confrontational person I was — and still, only 13, barely beginning to emotionally mature — I let her words sink in. I entirely believed that what I had shared was completely out of line, and rebuked myself for crying at all. Since early childhood, I was the type of person who cried whenever I felt worried or insecure, and this woman, in just a few sentences, had made me so worried and so insecure that I didn’t want to cry anymore.

For me, Challenge Day in sixth grade was exciting. Because my school had only opened that year, even the seventh- and eighth-graders who transferred from the middle school across town were open to making new friends, and it was a wholly positive experience. But after Challenge Day in eighth grade, I wondered if I’d become too comfortable being openly emotional two years before. And, not to place the entirety of the blame on this one woman’s speech, since I clearly had many reasons to feel down, eighth grade was when I first recognized that I might be depressed. Even still, I don’t think I should have had to say, “Look, lady, I appreciate your fake concern, but I’m clinically depressed” to avoid any further insult.

I know so many people whose feelings were invalidated as kids simply because, as kids, many of them just hadn’t been alive long enough to experience the type of pain that adults have. (And even if they have, the emotional differences inherent in both parties for the exact same tragedy or other life change can be profound.) When adults don’t understand that comparing the plights of a single 13-year-old to their own — or anyone’s — is completely unfair, their words and actions can quickly devolve into invalidation and, sometimes, abuse.

During that second Challenge Day, the main message conveyed by the leaders was beyond my attention. I thought I’d come away with the advice to not cry unless it was about something really important, and to “be stronger” — which was completely abstract to me at the time. (It still is, honestly. Is there a checklist I have to fill out to determine if I’m “strong” enough to…what? Be a living, appropriately emotional person? I mean, evidently not.)

I don’t want adults to be rude to kids who are expressing emotions of any kind, even if it’s about something they don’t think is worth expending energy to worry about. Children and teenagers have vastly different capacities to internalize the world around them compared to adults, and that doesn’t make their reactions to hardships wrong or invalid. We should all know this, having been kids ourselves, but obviously we don’t.

When adults can’t understand a world in which a hamster’s death is, for one day, the most important thing, perhaps the sole hardship on a child’s mind, then we don’t deserve their innocent happiness at learning on their own that there are, in fact, more hamsters.

If we can’t handle children’s emotions at their worst — the worst “worst” they’ve ever experienced — to what fate are we dooming them when the things they don’t talk about, their depression and abuse and appropriately hard hardships that are allowed to challenge their strength, get bad enough for us to care?

Takeaway: Let kids feel their feelings when they’re kids so they have a healthy relationship with their emotions as adults. (Please.)

[pen-masta]

Love Me Not

Happy Valentine’s day!!!

When they called her from the office that a package had arrived for her, she didn’t think anything of it. After dropping off the students at the cafeteria she had run down to the office. Biting into her sandwich she asked the new receptionist, Patty, where the package was.

What she was presented with was an enormous bouquet of pink and red lilies. When she asked if there was a card Patty just shrugged. When she asked who brought it Patty explained she didn’t really know who it was--seeing that she was new and hadn’t learned everyone’s names yet--but she said it was a young man who instructed her to have these flowers delivered to Joy.

Joy smiled and thanked her, thinking she’d message him later assuming these are from him. But when her team comes to meet in her room during their planning period, things begin to stir.

“Oooh Joy,” Nancy smiles eyeing the bouquet. “A little V-day gift I see.”

Joy smirks, “I suppose so.”

“From your hubby?” Amanda asks taking a seat

“I’m not sure,” Joy shrugs. “There was no card and he and I agreed to not get each other gifts this year.”

“What? Why not?” Sam asks

Joy shrugs, “We didn’t really wanna get each other gifts just because some holiday says we have to. We should get gifts for each other all the time, because we love each other, not because we’re obligated to.”

Amanda blinks and looks back at the flowers, “So then who are they from?”

Joy picks up her planner, “Don’t know.”

“Oooo maybe Joy has a secret admirer,” Sam smiles impishly and waggles her eyebrows.

“Oooooo,” all three women chirp like a group of school children.

Joy smirks and rolls her eyes, “I certainly hope not. That’d be so inappropriate.”

“Aw come on Joy,” Amanda pouts, “just think about how romantic it’d be to have a secret admirer.”

“Just pretend,” Nancy agrees. “It’d be so sweet.”

“Oooh! Who do you think it’d be?” Sam squeaks

“Girls,” Joy sighs. “We have work to discuss.”

“Come on five minutes,” Nancy says.

“I bet it’d be Andrew the fifth grade math teacher,” Amanda grins. “Not gonna lie he’s a hunk of eye candy.”

“Or or what if it’s Blake the gym teacher,” Sam says. “Gotta admit he’s a real cutie.”

“Ladies this is the only time we have to work,” Joy laughs at her coworkers’ childish game.

“But it’d have to be someone who knows Joy likes lilies,” Nancy says. “Someone she’s spent time with.”

They are all quiet for a moment trying to think. Before Joy can try for the third time to pull their focus in the right direction, Amanda squeaks and nearly jumps out of her seat.

“I KNOW WHO IT IS!” She cheers, “It’s gotta be Alex!”

“Alex? The sixth grade science teacher?” Nancy asks

“Yes!” Amanda nods, “They’ve been bonding soooo much lately!”

Joy can’t help the loud bark of laughter that leaves her body, “What?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam nods, “You two judged the spring science fair together, and you hosted the halloween dance together.”

“Oh! The bake sale was you two, and the staff vs. student baseball game you both were coaches,” Nancy says.

“Come to think of it you two have been talking a lot after school,” Amanda smirks.

Joy laughs again shaking her head, “Yeah planning for the Valentine’s day dance on Friday.”

“Still it’s just the two of you...here...alone,” Amanda grins evilly.

“What if he has a crush on you Joy?” Nancy asks, “I mean he is single.”

“Girls come on how old are you?” Joy giggles

“I think he’s got a thing for you,” Sam nods.

Joy rolls her eyes, “Alright alright are we done here? Can we talk about our lessons now?”

Nancy sighs, “It’s kindergarten Joy how much is there really to plan.”

=================

“Have a great day boys and girls!” Joy calls out as she watches her students racing each other to the buses.

As the last bus pulls out of the lot Joy smiles and turns to head back inside the school.

“Hey! Here let me get that,” a voice calls from behind her.

She blinks and suddenly Alex is in front of her holding the door open.

She smiles, “Thanks dude.”

“No problem,” Alex grins and they both walk inside. “How was your day?”

“Good, good,” Joy nods. “They were a bit rowdy today but that’s alright.”

“That’s good,” Alex smiles as they walk into the main office.

“How were your sixth graders?” Joy asks as she heads to the mail room.

“They were actually well behaved today,” Alex smiles.

“That’s awesome,” Joy smiles and takes her mail out of her slot. “Ok so we have the music planned, the snacks, and the drinks.” She says and hands Alex’s mail to him.

“Thanks,” he smiles, “yes I think all we have left to do is the decorations.”

“Ok so we can decorate the gym tomorrow after school,” Joy says as they walk back to her classroom.

“I’m good for that,” Alex nods and leans against the door frame of the room. He smiles, “I see you got a gift.”

Joy blinks and looks at the flowers, “Oh yeah.”

“Who are they from?” Alex asks

Joy shrugs, “Well there wasn’t a card.”

“Oh no?” Alex asks and walks over to her.

“Nope, Patty said a young man told her to give them to me.”

“So who do you think it is?” Alex asks

Joy smiles, “I’d say my husband but we weren’t getting each other gifts this year.”

“Oh?” Alex quirks a brow

“Yeah, it’ a whole obligation thing we’re trying to get away from,” Joy says and picks up her notebook. She flips to the school dances section of the notebook and picks up her feathered pen. “Ok so we’ve got streamers, balloons, table cl--”

“So who do you think it is?” Alex interrupts

Joy blinks, “Huh?”

“The flowers, who do you think sent them if it wasn’t your husband?”

Joy furrows her eyebrows, “Does it matter?”

Alex shrugs, “Just curious.”

Joy sighs and looks at the flowers, “Well I’m really not sure,” she giggles, “the girls were speculating a secret admirer.”

Alex raises a brow, “Oh really?”

“Yes it was so ridiculous,” Joy snickers.

“Would it be?” Alex asks, “If you had one? I mean you are pretty great Joy.”

Joy can’t help the heat that rises in her cheeks, “Well I mean...I am married.”

“So what?” Alex shrugs, “Can’t someone still like you?”

Joy swallows, “I-I guess so.”

“So would it be weird,” Alex rubs the back of his neck. “If I had bought those flowers for you?”

It feels as though the world has stopped moving as she stands there. Did he really just say that? Did he really just go there??...What the heck!? She wants to call him out, she knows there’s no way he bought these flowers there’s just no way!...but maybe?

She wants to yell at him, she wants to laugh it off, she wants to say anything to make time reverse. But she can’t seem to function. This seems so outrageous that she can’t even form a thought other than--

“Are you serious?”

“Very serious,” Alex says and walks closer to her. “I really like you Joy, more than just a friend I think.”

“Alex,” her voice sounds strangled as he walks closer and closer to her.

“Shhhhh,” he shushes as he leans down to her. “Just let it happen.”

She is frozen stiff as his lips land on hers.

====================

She stands at the door staring down at her feet. She runs her fingers through her hair before walking down the steps to the lab. She listens the zapping and zipping and the mechanical hum that usually floats in the air as he works. As she gets to the glass door of his lab she can feel herself smiling at the sight of him.

Hunched over the table sparks flying as he works. The amount of coffee mugs that are scattered over the floor tells her he’s been down here since she left this morning. She walks up behind him and carefully wraps her arms around his middle. He smiles and puts his drill down on the table to put his hands over hers.

“How was your day?” He asks and pulls his goggles up to rest on his head.

“Good,” She smiles and kisses his cheek. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Liar,” she smirks.

He chuckles and turns around on his stool forcing her to move her arms.

“How do you even know?”

She smiles, “Cause I know you.” She kisses his nose, “Come on let’s get something to eat.”

He nods, “Alright.”

He follows her up the stairs and leans against the counter as she scans the fridge. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and smiles.

“So Jo-jo, did anything special happen today?”

He can see the way she tenses before slamming the fridge shut.

“Special? No nothing really?”

He raises a brow, “Joy are you alright?” He asks concerned

She bites her lip as she smiles and nods, “Yes I’m alright Cassierole. We just don’t have anything good to eat here.”

He hesitates before nodding as well, “Alright then,” he smiles again, “well if you’re hungry and there’s nothing to eat how about we go out?”

She laughs, “On Valentine’s day yeah Cassie,” she rolls her eyes, “good luck getting a seat in any restaurant.”

“What if I told you I had a table for two at the Blue Room tonight at seven,” he smirks and raises a brow.

She giggles and crosses her arms, “I’d say you’re not good at this whole no gifts for V-day deal.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “It’s not for V-day we just haven’t gone out in a while.”

“The Blue Room? You have to reserve a table there like three months in advance.” She narrows her eyes and smirks.

He laughs, “Just go get dressed.”

===============

As they sit in the soft light of the restaurant with smooth jazz dancing through the air, she can’t help the way her heart pounds. It’s not because of how dapper and handsome Castel looks in his black suit and red tie. It’s not because of the way he smiles at her from across the small table. It’s not because of the way he places his hand over hers on the table--not even to be romantic but rather it is simple muscle memory. It’s not even because he knows her so well he’s able to order for her without missing anything--not even the ranch dressing for her salad on the side.

No, the reason her heart is throbbing so much that her chest is starting to hurt is because of Alex. Because the scene keeps replaying in her mind. She wants desperately to tell Castel what happened but...she’s terrified.

Castel has never been one to get outrageously angry at her, in fact she’s not even concerned about herself. She knows if Castel was mad he’d forgive her, he’d never hurt her or hit her so the reason she is terrified isn’t because she’s afraid of what will happen to her. No she’s afraid he’ll kill Alex.

She’s flying on autopilot, she eats her food, she sips her wine, she’s even faintly aware of the words flying out of her mouth. Although she has no clue what they’re even talking about--she can feel guilty for not listening later. But right now she’s being torn apart from the inside out. Since they were kids they had an unspoken agreement to never have any secrets, and now that she’s said “I do” she feels that, that unspoken agreement has grown all the stronger.

She wants to tell him, she needs to tell him...but she has no idea how!

“So nothing out of the ordinary happened today?” She hears him ask and she’s pulled from her thoughts. “Nothing at all J-bird?” He smiles and there seems to be almost a twinkle in his eyes.

He looks so sweet and cute and nearly pleading. She knows he’s fishing for something. She’s not completely positive as to what, but she’s got a pretty good idea. She’s going to have to tell him. Shutting off autopilot she forces herself back into the captain’s chair and smiles back at him.

“You know actually something special did happen today Cassie,” she says and twirls her noodles around her fork. “A beautiful bouquet of lilies came for me today.”

The grin that breaks on his face brings out a very boyish and childlike shine to his face. His eyes light up with excitement; excitement that he’s trying hard to school and play the cool facade.

“Oh yeah?” He asks cutting his steak, she can hear the glee in his voice and it makes her giggle slightly--as hard as he tries calm, cool, and collected is a feat Castel will never achieve.

“Yes, they were beautiful,” she smiles.

She swears he’s bouncing in his seat like he’s a child again, she cannot deny she finds it adorable.

“They were? That’s really funny that you got flowers on Valentine’s day.” He says without breaking his smile.

“Yeah funny,” she muses. “It’s even funnier that they came from Alex.”

His smile vanishes faster than Ylvis’ music career.

“What?” There is no stutter in his voice, no waver, nothing.

She nods, “Yes he did.”

“Alex?...the sixth grade teacher?” He asks and slowly puts his fork down

“Yes,” she nods again with a small smile.

She can see the wheels spinning wildly in his head as his eyes dart from hers to the table then back to hers.

“A big bouquet of lilies?” He asks, “What color were they?”

“Red and pink,” she says.

“I bought those for you!” He yelps and shakes his head, “I bought them for you. I had them delivered close to your lunch break so you could get them.” He runs his hand through his hair, his breathing picking up. Clearly he’s getting slightly worked up. “I can prove that I bought them, I have the receipt and and--”

She giggles and puts her hand on his on the table, “Cassie calm down. Look at me.”

He pauses a moment before meeting her eyes and she smiles lovingly at him.

“I know you bought them for me. I can put two and two together dork-a-doo,” she says and can physically see the tension leave his body.

He huffs out a sigh and smiles at her, “That wasn’t funny Jo-jo.”

She rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to continue on as to why she said that but he jumps in first.

“Did you count them?” He asks

She blinks, “Huh?”

“The flowers. Did you count them?”

She slowly shakes her head, “Count them?”

He nods, “Yeah, yeah didn’t you read the little card?” He furrows his brow

“There’s was no card that came with it.”

He stares at her, “No...card?”

“Nope,” she says.

“Seriously?” He grits his teeth and growls, “I knew that kid couldn’t handle it! I should have just delivered them myself.”

“Cassie what is the big deal about the card,” she snickers and shakes her head at him.

He sighs, “Cause I...” he hesitates, “I wrote a little poem.”

She’s stunned! Castel was never the creative artsy one of them, that’s her domain. He’s never even so much as colored a page in a coloring book, and he wrote her a poem!?

“You did? What did it say?”

He sighs again as a blush rises in his cheeks, “You really want me to recite it? R-right now?”

“Please Cassie,” she pleads with puppy dog eyes.

He runs his hand through his hair. It was a lot for him to write it, but now he had to recite it to her??

“It’s not very good,” he warns.

“I don’t care,” she smiles.

He nods and clears his throat, “One lily for all the years that I have loved you so very dear.Twenty two to mark the time your heart has beat with mine,And here’s to many more I know we’ll share my love to only you, this I swear.We’ll be together come what may and know there’s nothing more I love than you, on this Valentine’s day.” He pauses and smirks, “P.s. did you really think I wasn’t gonna get you something J-bird?”

She can feel tears welling in her eyes. She loved him when he stood up for her against the school ground bully. She loved him when he danced with her at prom when her date stood her up. She loved him when he stayed with her late into the night after terrible break ups. She loved him when beat up her jerky ex-boyfriend in her name. She loved him when he proposed. She loved him when she said I do. And yet in all those years of a life time together, she has never loved him more than in this moment right now.

She wipes her eyes, “I really wish I had that card.”

He smiles bashfully and shrugs, “I’m sorry that idiot didn’t deliver it.”

“What happened to no gifts you cheater!” She laughs

He smiles, “I thought if we agreed to no gifts you wouldn’t be expecting it. So it’d be more of a surprise.”

She giggles, her sweet dork. As she smiles at him she is suddenly overwhelmed with an inexplicable amount of courage.

“You know you put in so much time and thought into this gift, and Alex tried to pass it off as his.”

He blinks the confusion clear on his face but he holds his smile, “What do you mean?”

“Well apparently Alex has a small crush on me I guess,” she shrugs. “And when he saw the flowers with no card he tried to claim that he sent them to me.”

Castel doesn’t hold back the bark of laughter that leaves him, “Are you kidding? Doesn’t he know you’re taken?”

Joy laughs as well, “He does so I don’t know why he’s trying. I never had any idea I had no clue.”

“Well I’m happy to say he got here too late,” he grins and sips his wine.

“Agreed Cassie,” she holds her breath. “So I don’t know why he kissed me.”

Castel chokes on his wine and nearly spits the liquid out as he coughs.

“Excuse me?” He coughs and stares at her, “He what!?”

“Just let it happen,” Alex had said before his lips landed on hers.

She was frozen in shock as his lips pressed against hers. Her brain burst into flames as she stared back at his closed eyes. Her arms felt like lead as they hung by the sides of her lifeless body. What...just...What!?

A second later he stopped and pulled back smiling at her. And suddenly she was back in the land of the living as what just happened processed. Her body sprung into action.

SMACK!

He stared at her holding his cheek clearly not understanding, “What was--”

“I swear if you ask what was that for I promise I will hurt you and it’ll be more than just a smack.” She said with not a single tremor in her voice. “How dare you.” She hissed, “I thought you were my friend, my colleague. But now...” she paused gathering her thoughts as he stared wide eyed back at her. “Now you have forfeited those titles. How dare you even think that I’d betray my Cassie.” Shock was soon replaced with anger as she grit her teeth, “I will finish the plans for the dance myself. Just get out of my sight.”

He blinked and shook his head, “No, no Joy I--”

“I said get out of my sight,” she commanded. “Get out of my sight, out of my classroom, and as far away from me as humanly possible.”

He looked as though he was going to continue to protest, but the fire that burned in her eyes deterred him from any futile attempts. With a friendship and years of trust lost in just milliseconds Alex left with his ears down and tail between his legs.

================== 

After convincing Castel to not go and kill the middle school science teacher the evening continued on into a very comfortable and normal groove. She’s glad she told him, although he was seeing red the issue would have been worse had he found out for himself from someone else. She has never wanted anyone more than Castel, she’s known that since she was seventeen. And she’d never trade him for all the sleazy selfish Alexs in the world.

As she sits on the lip of tub she can see the picture on her nightstand through the open bathroom door. It’s her favorite picture of them on their wedding day. The photographer sat in the limo and snapped the shot as the two had climbed into the car. The genuine love, adoration, loyalty, and undoubting certainty on Castel’s face is clear...and she will never give that up for anything.

She smiles, “Cassie come here!” She yells.

Nearly seconds later Castel comes barreling through the bedroom door in a blur of panic.

“What! What’s wrong!?” He asks before stopping in front of the open bathroom door.

Seeing she is alright the panic subsides and he takes in the warm glow of the bathroom, the candles and rose petals that cover the floor and the tub that is overflowing with bubbles. And there in the midst sitting on the edge of the tub is his beautiful wife, his best friend, and the love of his life.

She smiles impishly and cocks her head, “Did you really think that the element of surprise was something only you thought of?”

He smiles and chuckles to himself. As he slips his tie off from around his neck and hangs it on the door knob, he has one final thought before he closes the door. There is nothing he wants more in his life than to spend it by her side.