#turns out it is a lego property?????? when did they get the rights to that

[botslayer9000]

WHEN DID LEGO SETS GET SO EXPENSIVE⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

A fluorescent green gaze pierced through him from the rearview mirror. As much as the eye contact sent chills down Dale's spine, he didn't want to look away. Some primal part of his brain was much more comfortable keeping his eyes firmly planted on the predator in the back seat of the police car.

"Why won't he leave?" Dale whispered to his partner, the woman grit her teeth.

"I don't know, but I'm not the idiot who decided to fucking arrest him." spat Whitney.

"I didn't think it would work!" Dale hissed. They were trying to be quiet, but he was certain the ghost boy could hear them clear as day, especially with the quiet of the late night streets. "I was just following protocol. We're not supposed to ignore criminal activity."

"The protocol," Whitney's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as she circled the block for the third time. "Is to not fuck with the ghosts Dale. Especially that one."

She jerked her head roughly to the boy in the back seat, he was looking around the car and humming to himself, he didn't appear to be paying attention, but that didn't mean he wasn't listening.

"Look I just... we need to at least keep up appearances. We can't just let people think we aren't even trying."

"Yes! Yes we can!" Whitney snapped her mouth shut as her volume started to rise with frustration, she glanced nervously into the mirror and took a deep breath before continuing in a low tone. "We aren't paid to deal with this kind of bullshit, we radio it in and let a Fenton or a Guy in White deal with it."

"Okay I get it!" Dale ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I just... I feel so pathetic doing nothing when ghosts are just running around destroying public property-"

"Oh yeah no that's fine Dale that's a great reason to go and put handcuffs on the most powerful ghost in the fucking city." Whitney took the next turn a little too sharply, Dale felt himself lurch sideways, but the boy in the back hardly moved. It wasn't especially surprising given his usual disregard for the laws of physics.

As well as all the other laws that Officer Dale was supposed to be enforcing.

"I told you I didn't think he would actually come willingly." Dale whispered harshly, his voice containing just the barest hint of hysteria. "I just wanted to show him that we aren't total pushovers, I didn't expect it to go this far."

They circled the block once more as Dale checked the rearview mirror again. Phantom was playing with his handcuffs, jiggling the chain and twisting his hands around them. It was almost like he was trying wriggle his way out of them, Dale knew perfectly well that they were just ordinary handcuffs, and he could phase through them at any moment. Phantom had to know that too.

Whitney flicked her eyes between the mirror and the road.

"Asshole," the word was barely audible, Dale would have missed it had he not seen her lips move. "He's just doing this to fuck with us."

"Of course he is." Dale rubbed at his face tiredly. "He's probably got nothing better to do, maybe he'll leave if another ghost shows up?"

"And exactly how long do you expect us to go around in circles waiting for that to happen?" Whitney asked through gritted teeth. "This is getting fucking embarrassing."

"Maybe we should just take him in," Dale sighed in defeat. Whitney took another corner way too hard, jostling him roughly in his seat.

"I am NOT taking Phantom back for processing. They will NEVER let us live this down, and I am NOT becoming the joke of the precinct because YOU decided to be a god damn moron and arrest a fucking ghost."

Another sharp turn and the entrance to the city park flew by their windows again, Dale had lost count how many times they'd circled the block, but somehow he was certain that Phantom hadn't.

The little shit was enjoying this, why couldn't he just sneak into a movie theatre to get his kicks like a normal teenager?

Whitney growled and pulled the car into a complete stop, the wheels screeched and Dale let out a loud WHUFF as the inertia jerked him hard against his seatbelt.

His partner violently wrenched the door open and pulled herself out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her with far more force than was necessary.

Dale followed suit and looked over the roof of the car as Whitney pulled open the back passenger door and whistled sharply, pointing up and out into the sky.

"Go on, get. Ride's over, you've had your fun."

"Awww come oooon," Phantom whined, "I didn't even get to hear you use the siren!"

"Don't care, we're the police, not baby sitters. Go find some ghost cops to bother."

"The ghost cops aren't as fun," Phantom moaned, but he did as he was told and stepped out of the car. "You know, you guys shouldn't swear so much around minors, you're corrupting the youth!"

"I'll corrupt my foot up your ass if you don't get going." said Whitney, flatly. She put her hand out and Phantom effortlessly dropped the cuffs from his wrists and tossed them at her.

He pulled a face at her as she fumbled with the handcuffs, sticking out a very green tongue.

"I saw that young man!" Dale pointed at him from the other side of the car. "Don't let us catch you disrespecting an officer of the law again! Next time you won't get off with just a warning-"

"Dale! For the love of all that is holy shut your damn fool mouth!"

Phantom hopped backwards from the irate woman, his last few steps landing on empty air. He floated gently upwards with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Well this has been fun but I gotta head off, but thanks for the company! We should do it again some time, see you around!" He waved a casual salute and swung around, legs stretching out into a long swirling tail as he sped off into the sky.

Dale felt his knees shaking as he slipped back into the car. Whitney settled into her seat, hands steady as a rock as she belted herself up and started the car.

"That was terrifying." He gasped.

"And yet you still had to keep playing bad cop."

"I'm sorry it just slipped out! He's no different to any of the other punks we deal with around here. A wiseass with no respect for authority." Dale huffed and folded his arms, crossly.

"...He probably wasn't any different, before he died." Whitney said, quietly.

Dale didn't respond, letting the statement sit heavily between them as the car pulled away from the curb.

"I forget that sometimes, you know." said Dale. "This is the first time I've ever seen him up close and he... he really does just look like some kid. How do you think he... how do you think it happened?"

Whitney let out a deep breath as they completed their final lap around the block and headed in toward the city centre.

"I have no idea, and I'm pretty sure that's the kinda thing you can't ask." she paused for a moment, before continuing with a quiet pain in her voice. "He's so young."

"I wonder if his parents know," Dale mused sombrely, "That he's, you know, still around?"

"Who knows."

A car cut them off suddenly at an intersection.

"That was a red light." Dale announced.

The police car's lights flashed as the siren echoed through the empty streets, and Whitney slammed her foot down to catch up with the offending vehicle.

The conversation was over, but neither cop forgot about the incident, and neither could look at their city's hero and menace quite the same. Dale had gotten quite good at seeing ghosts as merely 'creatures', or 'monsters', things that were entirely Strange and Other. Being up close and personal with one had been a much needed reminder of what a ghost truly was.

And that ghost, the one messing around in the back of his car, was a boy. Just a boy. A boy who had a family, a boy who had a life, a boy who had died.

When Dale got home in the early hours of the morning, he hovered by his kids' bedroom, carefully easing the door open to look at their little sleeping faces. Just to make sure they were still there, right where he left them. Still breathing, still alive.

He knew there was a family out there somewhere, parents who had looked through their son's bedroom door and seen only cold, empty sheets.

Dale stepped very carefully over the spilt lego pieces on the floor, and gave his girls both a long, heartfelt kiss on their little heads, before going back to his own room to lay by his sleeping wife's side.

No, no he truly couldn't look at Phantom quite the same way, not anymore.

[kenanda]

Love your lonelyeyes fics!! I'm waiting for the sequel you mentioned and the abo one.

If you want to, no pressure, for the kissing prompt whichever you want to pick 11, 23 or 62 would be amazing. Have a lovely day !!!

Hello! I'm so humbled that you enjoy my fics, thank you so much! I'm a bit swamped atm, but I have those fics all outlined. I still plan on writing them, so bear with me!

Also, thank you for your patience, I know this took a while xD I've come back (sorta) after a week of being ill to commit more LonelyEyes crimes. I hope y'all are ready for some tooth-rotting fluff!

Since I'm still a bit under the weather, I decided to do what I never do and pick only one prompt (oh noes!). But here it goes:

Kissing prompt 23 - Exhausted parents kiss

Rating: PG-13 Words: 1,2k Pairing: LonelyEyes Characters: Jonah Magnus!Elias Bouchard; Peter Lukas; Martin Blackwood; Tim Stoker Tags: Established Relationship; Parenthood; Gentle Kissing; Fluff; No Hurt Only Comfort; Parents!Lonelyeyes; Domestic (like VERY); Doting Parents LonelyEyes; yeah Tim and Martin are their kids in this one; Prompt Fill

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are the property of Rusty Quill's The Magnus Archives.

Warning: If you're squicked by any of this, back out. Don't read. Thanks!

After nine years of being a parent, Elias had learned to recognise the shy knocking on his and Peter's door for what it really was. The day and hour — just a little past 11PM on a Sunday — were also a hint. Tim was supposed to be in bed by ten, and yet here he was, a small figure standing awkwardly on the threshold.

Elias lowered his reading glasses and elbowed Peter in the ribs when he failed to turn off the TV.

Peter jolted awake, having been on the brink of sleep. "Tim- Timothy? What's wrong?" Peter grumbled.

Between the two of them, Martin let out a tiny sound in his slumber.

Tim rubbed the back of his leg with a foot. "I just remembered… I have schoolwork… For tomorrow..."

Elias sighed, wondering why in the deepest part of his heart. But what could he do except help his forgetful child?

"I'll go get the cardboard and old magazines," he said and got up, careful not to jostle Martin.

Tim smiled. "Thank you, Daddy."

Unfortunately for him, Elias was rather weak to his child's eyes. Something about them reminded him of Peter; an acquired trait, maybe? Elias knew he was doomed the moment he saw the same little wrinkles appear on the sides of Tim’s eyes. Alas, he would die for this child — the love blooming in his chest upon noticing that their boy looked more and more like them was evidence enough.

Elias picked Tim up on the way out. Just as he was about to leave, he noticed that Peter hadn't moved an inch.

"Ahem.”

Peter wiggled out of bed with many a groan.

"Keep an eye on Martin while I help Tim," Elias told him.

Their youngest had just turned two; they were having some trouble getting him to fall asleep in his own bedroom. Martin was adamant in sleeping between his dads, even with the TV and the lights on.

Since Martin was out like a light, Peter picked him up and carried him to his bedroom.

Elias and Tim got to work in the kitchen. Elias should have known better than to not check Tim's assignments, but he believed it was good that their oldest had some responsibilities.

Elias also believed in dealing with the aftermath of one's own actions, but he wasn't a cruel parent. When the yawning and eye-rubbing became too much, Elias gently patted Tim on the back.

Wordlessly, Tim crawled into his arms. Elias could finish this alone. He would wake up exhausted the next day and have a busy day of meetings at work, but he at least could drink coffee.

Just as he was putting Tim to bed, he heard a yelp followed by a wail from Martin's bedroom. His heart raced, but hopefully it would be just another nightmare. If Peter had dropped their kid...

He strode over to find Martin plastered against Peter's chest, tiny arms wound too-tight around his neck. Peter gave Elias a look and a shrug.

"Stepped on a god forsaken Lego on my way out and let out a cry. Woke him up."

Elias relaxed. He could empathise, having been on the receiving end of a painful Lego-stepping more than once. It hadn't been pretty.

Peter sat on the blue armchair near the curtains, the one that was too small for him. Elias pulled up a chair next to them and gently helped rock Martin to sleep. Their baby boy was sniffling, so Peter started humming an old shanty that both Martin and Elias loved.

Elias was ready to sleep right there when Peter nudged him. Martin's arms had gone lax.

Elias removed him with a care that one would only employ to defuse a bomb, but managed to tuck him in bed.

They tiptoed out and heaved another tired sigh upon checking the hour. Way past midnight.

"I've still got Tim's assignment," Elias whined. It sounded almost like a cry.

"Come.” Peter encouraged, gently pushing Elias towards the kitchen “Four hands work faster."

By the time they were done, it was almost one in the morning. Peter would be able to sleep in on Monday (he was only needed at the harbour by noon), but Elias would have to be up in five hours.

Bleary-eyed, Elias put the finished work aside. Peter massaged his shoulders and nuzzled his hair, offering him some tea. They could certainly do with a cuppa, but all they needed right now was sleep — though not before one last check

Peter poked a head into Tim’s bedroom and Elias into Martin’s. The kids were fast asleep and thankfully it seemed like no more trouble would arise that night.

The pair crawled into bed and only whispered a tired good-night before turning off the bedside table lamps and immediately falling asleep.

***

Getting the kids out of bed the next day was torture. Martin was throwing a tantrum for having woken up yet again somewhere other than his parents' beds, and Tim was cranky due to the lack of sleep.

Elias could relate, but he still roused them with a smile and a kiss.

While Elias dressed Tim, Peter prepared Martin's food. Elias was in charge of dropping Tim off today. Peter would stay in with Martin until the minder arrived — a lovely young one called Sasha.

"Don't forget your assignment!" Elias told Tim as they were getting ready to go. Tim ran to get it. And to the pair of scoundrels he was leaving behind: "You two, no biscuits before lunch! I mean it. And don't forget to put away the laundry, I left it running last night."

"Will do. You take care as well!"

Martin was currently too entertained by his food to co-sign. Also, he was only two.

As they were about to leave, Elias remembered something. He did a little sprint to the kitchen and gave Peter a kiss.

Peter smiled (as he always did) and kissed him back. It lingered.

They had no idea what awaited them when they'd first decided to move in together. Even less so when after a few years, they had come to the conclusion that there were too many empty rooms in that house.

Elias had never once pictured himself as paternal and frankly, neither did Peter. But now, with way more grey hairs than when they started and many stories to tell, both agreed that it had been their best idea.

"Love you," Elias told him.

"Eww," Tim exclaimed. "That's gross, Daddy!"

"Come now, we don't talk like that about your Father. He has feelings, you know."

"Hey!"

Peter gave him a reprimanding pat on the bum.

Martin giggled at Elias's yelp with a face covered in carrot porridge.

"See you in a few," Elias said, ignoring Tim's now sudden protests that they were going to be late.

This was their life now — from sleepless nights in the ER to the swelling pride at school events; to the chaotic rush of mornings and relying on each other more than they ever had before.

Peter may be all smiles today, but Elias knew that he was just as tired. He also knew that neither would trade this for anything in the world. They were in this together.

"Miss you," Peter said.

"You won't have time for that." Elias looked pointedly at Martin, who was now making a sculpture of sorts out of his food.

"Yeah, you're probably right..."

"Appreciate the sentiment, though."

"Dad!" Tim warned.

"Right. Coming!"

Peter waved them away and blew a small kiss in Elias' direction. Elias caught it in mid-air and put it in his pocket, then blew one of his own. Peter held it in his hand.

[pearsabeth]

The Folks - A Percabeth fic

"Annabeth, don't try to act like this is my fault"

Percy's amused tone earned him a glare from his girlfriend. They were waiting in the warm car, anticipating the cold air they would be met with outside and the reaction of the Chase family if they were to notice the red bruise adorning the side of Percy's neck.

"Of course it is, I could've planned all this if you hadn't been so..." Annabeth's eyes flickered as she recalled the making of the hickey that has decided to plague her life.

It was the mischief in his eyes taunting her to remove that trouble maker smirk playing on his swollen lips. Before she knew it her teeth were on his neck and all sense had disappeared. She hadn't thought about the scheduled dinner at her parents. She wasn't thinking at all.

"You know you can't just wait in the car and glare at the house until it disappears" Percy's voice comes from the driver's seat.

"I can try," she sighed.

Knowing perfectly well she had to go in soon and face Bobby and Matthew and their fascinating incapability of minding their business , Helen who's judgemental stare could burn a hole through the dark grey woollen scarf wrapped around Percy's neck and tucked under his thick winter coat and her Dad who would interrogate them until the truth came out.

"You'll be fine Wisegirl, nothing's gonna happen and if anything does we'll just play it cool. We're grown." Percy suggested, hands landing on her thigh to try and comfort her.

She faced him with an anxiety-stricken expression he hadn't been expecting. His eyebrows raised in realisation. There was always more to it when it came to Annabeth.

"They already hate me enough. I bet Helen's in there preparing a list of ways to criticize my life. As if bringing home a boy isn't enough, it just had to be a bruised necked pretty boy who doesn't study law at Harvard."

"I guess we don't care about my self-esteem today, huh," Percy feigned offence.

"C'mon Annabeth, we're gonna be late. You've got this. Besides, I'll be on my best behaviour," He couldn't help the lopsided grin that emerged on his face as he said it.

When it didn't look like she was getting up anytime soon, Percy got out of the car and practically dragged her out and onto the sheet of snow that had begun to cover the driveway. When they got to the porch, Annabeth fixed his thick scarf once more to cover the hickey and rang the doorbell hesitantly.

Percy attempted to offer his support by holding her hand and giving it a squeeze only for Annabeth to snap her hand out as she heard footsteps walking towards the door.

"You're crazy," Percy murmurs as he opted for the small of her back.

The door opened to reveal Annabeth's stepmother, wearing a clean apron over her clothes. Before the couple could exchange greetings with the woman, the sound of slapping feet against the wooden floors was followed by the eager faces of Annabeth's twin brothers, Bobby and Matthew.

"Annabeth, did you get the stuff?" Bobby said his eyebrows disappearing under the brown coils against his forehead.

Matthew, presumably the mature one of the two rolled his brown eyes, showing the little resemblance he and his brother shared with Annabeth. For the most part, the twins resembled their Filipina mother more so than their father and it showed in their soft eyes and thick dark hair. But they couldn't escape the splatter of freckles on their nose that seemed to be Chase family staple.

"You bet I got the stuff, help Helen set up and then we can do business," Annabeth said as she made her way towards the living room, Percy following her lead awkwardly.

Matthew looked at his brother smugly, " I told you it was too good to be true."

Before sulking off to the kitchen, the boys set aside their negotiation and finally got a glimpse of the infamous Percy Jackson. Annabeth had been talking their ears off about him ever since the summer the two met. They knew vaguely about the two being an item from Matthews tendency to pick up his parents' grown-up conversations because he was just quiet enough to go unnoticed as opposed to Bobby who always made his presence known even if he didn't mean to. It was almost never good stuff.

Percy almost took a step back despite himself against the scrutinising gaze of the twins. Seriously, where could he learn to do that? Maybe Annabeth's Dad held lessons.

"Percy Jackson?" Bobby questioned.

Percy had always been great with kids. Annabeth had joked about it saying that it was only because he was basically a child himself. But something about making a first impression on his girlfriend's brother's who looked like they had their fair share in troublesome behaviour made it a lot harder. Percy could blow up a few school busses by accident here and there but the twins looked as if they would not only commit vandalism to school property but also devise an intricate plan before doing so. He had to make the right impression, he could feel the pressure from Helen's silent gaze and Fredericks presence from somewhere in the large suburban home.

"Yeah, that's me, it's nice to finally meet you two." Percy scratched the back of his neck subconsciously and turned to Helen.

very cool of him

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs Chase." He hesitated before her name not wanting to call her Helen and rendering himself as even more disrespectful than the image of him that she probably had in her mind.

"Yes, I've heard a lot about you. Frederick will be down shortly," She gave Annabeth a side-eye before telling Bobby to go upstairs and call his father from the office.

The silence that followed was enough to send Percy's inattentive mind to the surroundings of the house. It was a pretty big house, nothing too fancy though. The walls were decorated with various family photos and plaques of both Helen and Frederick's degrees and academic achievements.

He noticed quickly that Annabeth memorabilia was lacking save for a picture of her beside the wall nearest to the staircase with a smile, her two front teeth missing and posing proudly in front of a lego block set. Percy couldn't help but take his phone out of his pocket and snap a photo of it.

He didn't call for the loud shutter that erupted the silence and he definitely wasn't expecting to see Frederick Chase's aloof yet somehow still disapproving face on his phone screen.

Annabeth stifled her chuckle with a cough and went forward to greet her dad.

"Hey, Dad."

She wasn't sure whether to hug him but it didn't seem like he was opening his arms in an inviting embrace so Annabeth settled for an awkward handshake.

"Annabeth, I hope the traffic wasn't too bad."

Annabeth shot Percy a look that seemed to say,

‘look at this oaf.’

Percy was new to paternal interactions as well, having only met his dad in this last quarter of his life. But Frederick Chase's actions confused him too. His daughter had fallen into Tartarus and saved the world, putting her life at risk for the second time in the span of a year and the first thing he does is make conversation on vehicular congestion?

Percy calmed his fury at the man as he approached. They had met once before but the middle of a battle determining the fate of the world wasn't exactly the ideal setting to exchange pleasantries. In the back of his mind, Percy hoped he wouldn't attempt to give him "the talk" because quite frankly he didn't have any right to tell Percy to take care of his daughter when he'd been failing to do so himself.

"Percy, It's good to see you again. I hear you two have been on quite the journey these past months." Frederick led them to the dining room, taking a seat at the head of the table

This time, it was Percy's turn to throw a meaningful glance Annabeth's way.

Does this man know nothing?

Annabeth returned it with a squeeze of his leg as if she were saying, hang in there.

Helen arrived with steaming plates and bowls of food and the twins weren't far behind her trying to speedily set the table.

Percy thanked Helen for the food and right before he was about to dig into the steaming plate, Annabeth's fears were confirmed.

"It's a little warm in here don't you think? Annabeth must've forgotten to show you but you can hang your coat and scarf behind the door." Frederick suggested.

Percy looked at Annabeth for help, only to see the blood already rushing to her cheeks, fear evident in her eyes.

" Uh- I can't," Percy said shortly.

"You can't?" Frederick's eyebrows raised in question.

"He has this condition, it's uh, what was it called again Percy?" Annabeth aided which must've been suspicious because it wasn't like Annabeth to forget things.

"Um-eczema, it's pretty bad."

"Yeah, wouldn't want flakes of skin falling into your soup or anything," Annabeth added helpfully with a small smile on her face at the twins' disgust.

"Well, sorry I asked then," Frederick said suspiciously but didn't comment on it anymore.

Helen was busy serving Bobby and Matthew, seemingly unaware of the conversation. Percy tapped his foot against Annabeth's shin under the table to get her attention. They were good now. Annabeth shook her head at Percy's gullibility, not buying for a minute that her parents had bought it. But they didn't push, so as far as Annabeth was concerned she was blushing because her boyfriend had a terrible case of eczema and not because she had sucked his neck.

The dinner was unbearable. The food itself was great but even good food couldn't scratch the itch Percy felt to do or say something. Compared to mealtimes at Camp Half-Blood, which were always loud and eventful or dinnertime with Sally who always had something to say whether it be an idea that popped up while writing her manuscript or the oddly dressed poodle she saw on the subway- this dinner was a bore.

It wasn't long before they had retired to the living room again to make more small talk that conveniently avoided the topic of the two falling into the pits of hell. Annabeth had finally given the twins an anticipated copy of a comic series they followed and they'd resided upstairs to read it, leaving the couple alone with Annabeth's parents. They endured until it seemed appropriate to leave.

They were so close. Oh so close to getting up and getting as far away from the dull monotonous voice of the news reporter on TV to the warmth of the car when the tense air was broken by a musical note on the tv claiming to be an emergency weather report.

A blizzard.

It had to be Zeus. It was barely snowing when they had arrived. Percy and Annabeth were stuck and at this moment he had empathised with the dread that encompassed Annabeth every time she had to go home for the summer. How could a house so big feel so claustrophobic and lonely at the same time? The twins were lucky they had each other. He couldn't imagine how Annabeth managed.

"I guess it's a sleepover," Matthew's voice came from the kitchen as he licked the mocha from above his upper lip before running back up the stairs to his brother.

***

Before Percy knew it, he was in the Chase family guest room. Annabeth had nothing to worry about since she had clothes to wear to bed. She had changed into loose purple sweat pants with a long sleeve shirt and had come out of her room to help pick up the assortment of toys that were scattered on the floor. If Percy had an extra room in his house as a child he would probably make it an unofficial playroom as well.

This was probably just as inconvenient for the Chases as it was for them. Percy remembered how his mom fluttered around the house cleaning every surface before the arrival of guests and he finally understood why she always insisted he clean his room even if no-one was entering. Just in case Zeus decided to create a blizzard and snow-in the poor unsuspecting guests.

Percy's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door to the guest room. He opened the door for Helen, who had arrived with a bundle of Frederick's clothes. She placed them in his hands and left abruptly before he could thank her as if she had forgotten something. Annabeth laughed softly at the thought of Percy wearing her dad's plaid pyjama's.

"You think this is funny Wisegirl?" Percy said with a smile spreading on his face as he took off his coat and shirt and buttoned up the plaid print flannel.

"It's quite comical," she said, shamelessly looking at Percy's exposed chest as he fixed the last few buttons.

Annabeth averted her gaze quickly to the action figure on the floor when Helen resurfaced with a small bag of toiletries for Percy.

"Your condition isn't so bad," Helen said to Percy. She glanced at Annabeth, a hint of a sly smile on her usually stoic face.

Annabeth looked between the two of them. Helens eyes and Percy's exposed neck, scarf abandoned. She couldn’t somehow manipulate the mist and make herself disappear. So she opted for the second-best thing.

"Goodnight, I'm gonna go to my room now." she rushed out the words and almost crashed into Helen on her way out.

It was Percy's turn to be flustered as he nervously scratched his neck, then quickly switched to his head not wanting to bring any more attention to the very blatant hickey.

"Towels are in that closet," Helen said finally and closed the door behind her.

Percy puts on the rest of the clothes with two thoughts in mind:

1) Annabeth's cute when she blushes.

2) I hate it here.

[iwillbeinmynest]

Redcove Harvest - Bucky x Reader(f)   Chapter 2

Author’s Notes: Thank you all for the kind and enthusiastic response to the first chapter. Here’s chapter two for ya’ll. I hope you like it. I have a feeling this series with hit at least ten chapters but that means high word counts so hopefully that isn’t an issue.

AU: Farmhand!AU and SingleMom!Reader

Word Count: 

Notes/Warnings: (Notes are for the whole series) FLUFF, mentions of a past toxic relationship, a wild storm at the end, drama and a break-up, mentions of drinking, kids being adorable and ridiculous, kissing, romance and a tiny bit of angst if you look hard but nothing more than that of a Hallmark movie.

Masterlist     Series Masterlist

Bucky dropped Steve off at the store and then made his way to the address on the napkin. He turned off the highway onto a dirt road. He drove for about three miles or so down the tree lined drive. He took his final turn into an open but very busted gate. The fencing that lined the property was made of wood and was rotting in a few places. He figured that was probably on the list of things he might be doing.

He kept driving and saw that both of the fields on either side of him were overgrown. The fences were covered with saplings, vines and weeds. The fields beyond them were waist high with wheat colored grass and broom straw. He added that to his mental list. This dirt road ran for just over a mile and then he came into view of the house. It was a white two story with a wrap around porch. There was a large slab of old concrete that was being used to park cars. It held an orange tractor-mower, a Burgundy Ford and three electric kids cars. Two were pink and one looked like a little John Deer tractor.

Okay, so kids, that’s fun.

Bucky parked where he wouldn’t be in the way and got out of his truck. Two little girls, no older than ten, ran out of the front door laughing, each carrying their own basket. They didn’t even see Bucky and ran in the opposite direction, disappearing behind the house.

Bucky looked around the yard and saw a third field directly across from the front door. It was about forty yards from the porch but it was lush with greens and scattered bright colors. The field, that was also lined with a worn down fence, was a massive garden.

He could only pick out a few types of plants, though; tomatoes, cabbage, some kind of hanging gourd and (at his best guess) carrots.

A woman stood up from behind a thick patch of greens. Her hair was braided back and she had gardening gloves on. She was wearing a yellow tee-shirt, jeans and black rubber boots. She picked up a basket and started walking towards Bucky.

He slid his hands into his pockets and nodded his head her way. She waved briefly and closed the gate behind her.

Bucky could see her basket was full of freshly harvested radishes.

She reached a hand out, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

Bucky shook it with another nod. “Bucky. Well, James. James Barnes but call me Bucky.” Bucky cursed in his head.

Y/N smiled. “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

He froze at her smile. She was stunning. She had dirt on her cheek and a little sweat on her forehead but it only seemed to add to her beauty.

Her brow furrowed and she used a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked out over her property. “So, I need all of the fields cut and the fence lines cleaned. That will all probably take you at least a week. Then I’ll need the front field bailed but I have to rent the machine. And I’m sure you’ve noticed the fences are busted in several spots, we used to have cows, and one of Gavin’s bulls took out a few posts in a fit. And-”

��Wait, I’m sorry.” Bucky jumped in as politely as he could. “So, I have the job?”

“Isn’t that why you came?” She looked a little confused.

“But you don’t even know me.” He said.

Y/N smiled. “You come highly recommended, Sergeant.” She leaned on one leg and rested her basket on her hip.

Bucky ticked his head to the side and then it dawned on him. “Steve called you.”

She nodded once. “He did.” She grinned.

Bucky could have melted from the softness of her smile.

“You can run a field mower, right?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, great. I put the keys on the seat for you.” She said over her shoulder as she began to walk away. “I’ll be in the yellow barn for a bit but if you can’t find me there give me a ring.”

“Will do.” He said to himself as he watched her walk away for a minute. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He cursed Steve under his breath.

*   *   *   *

Bucky ran the mower for five hours. Somewhere in the middle Y/N called him back to the house for water and lunch but he insisted he only needed the water and that he’d take a bottle to-go if she had it, which she did.

Her property was huge, he guessed at least 250 acres. He didn’t even finish half of the first field. He pulled the Tractor back to where it was parked when he pulled up, then he tried to brush as much of the dust off of him as he could.

He could feel a sunburn on the back of his neck and decided that he’d either need a real hat or something to cover the skin above his collar.

He walked up the front steps and knocked on the door.

He heard little bare feet slapping on hardwood and running his way. The door opened and a little blonde baby was grinning up at him. “Hi!” She beamed.

“Hi,” He smiled back. “Is your mom around?”

“MOMMA!” She shouted.

A faint voice called back, “Comin’, baby!”

Bucky smiled.

The girl grabbed his hand. “I’m Lex. You should come inside. Momma doesn’t like it when the front door is left open.” She tugged on him and he conceded. Lex closed the door and then left him there.

Another girl walked past and when she noticed him her eyes grew wide. She very clearly had no idea who he was.

“Momma,” She started as she backed away.

Y/N appeared from around the corner and her gait faltered when she saw Bucky in the house. She put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.

“Bucky, who let you in?”

Bucky had clearly crossed a line. He backed up, taking a step towards the door. “I’m sorry, Lex-”

Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed, relieved. “Of course, Lex.”

The daughter at Y/N’s side twisted and shouted as she disappeared, “Lex! You can’t just let people in the house!”

“But momma does it!” A faint Lex shouted back.

“Momma is the grown-up, she’s supposed to!”

“Gracie quit yellin’ at your sister!” Y/N turned back to Bucky. “I’m sorry. Kids.” She chuckled.

“I was just about to head out but wanted to know what time you’d like me tomorrow.” He confessed.

“Oh, umm.” She put her hands at her hips. “How about eight? I’ll pay you for a full day's work today but I’d figured that you could work eight to three for the most part. Weather pending, of course.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great. Oh! Will you come write down your information so I can pay you?” She waived him over and headed down the hall.

Bucky followed as she turned a corner and ended up in a massive kitchen that spilled into the family room.

“I’ll pay you weekly at twenty two an hour if that works?”

Bucky’s eyes went a bit wide. “Yes, ma’am that works for me.”

She looked over at him as she grabbed a pen and pad from a small basket on the counter. “Stop calling me ‘Ma’am’. Just Y/N is fine.”

He nodded as he wrote down his name and number and address. “Will I get to meet your husband?” he’d meant it innocently.

Y/N turned and said, “He passed a few years ago,” with no tone whatsoever.

Bucky jerked his head up. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

She held a hand up and plastered on that gentle smile. “It’s fine. Really.”

Bucky handed her the pad and pen back.

“So, will a check work?” She asked.

“Sure, that’s fine.” He smiled back. He felt bad for bringing up her dead husband. He also felt bad knowing she had kids. “I appreciate the work.”

“I appreciate the help.”

There was an awkward pause so Bucky tried to fill it, “I’m sorry for coming into the house when I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to scare your daughter.”

“Who, Gracie? Nah, she’s tough. She was probably trying to decide if she was gonna grab a bat.” Y/N chuckled. “Lexie, on the other hand, needs some work on her stranger danger skills. She’s only five but that girl is another kind of fearless.”

Bucky laughed. “Well, hopefully I fall out of the stranger category, now.”

Y/n nodded. “Steve vouched for you so, I’d say you’re good.”

“Did he really call you?”

“He did.”

Bucky shook his head. He made a note to punch Steve real hard.

“I’ve known Steve since before Gavin died. He’s a good man. He mentioned you a lot. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

Y/N met Bucky’s eyes and they stayed like that for a moment.

“Mom! Lex won’t give me my Legos back!” Gracie yelled from up stairs. A smaller scream followed little running footsteps.

Y/N sighed and put a hand to her head. “I should take care of that.”

Bucky jerked from his spot against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Of course, sorry. I’ll let you get to it.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She followed him to the front door. “Feel free to use whatever you need in the morning. If it’s on the property you can use it or fix it. I’ll have a full list of everything I need done, too. You’re welcome to leave for lunch whenever you’d like or eat up here.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her as he stepped through the door. “Have a good evening.”

“You, too. Good night, Bucky.”

He jogged down the steps and hopped in his truck. He suddenly got the feeling he was going to love his job.

* * * * * * * * * *

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[mirinda03]

CONVENTIONAL FAMILY? WHO’S THAT?

<<<Previous Next>>>

Chapter 14: In which Janus is SO done and Remus can’t stop annoying him.

Emile and Remy arrived at the house calmly. Thomas was waiting for them in the doorway and once he saw them, he waved at them. Emile waved back while Remy just rolled his eyes in normal rebellious eight year but waved back.

“Hey dad! Hey Remy” Thomas said once the three members of the family had entered the house.

“Hey Thomas. How was your day?” Emile asked Thomas with a warm smile.

Remy yawned dramatically, feigning boredom for the awfully affectionate family dynamic. Oh how he missed Remus, the pyromaniac kid from his class. At least he was fun.

“Oh same old, same old. I got a ride with Roman’s dad and they drove me here!” Thomas said back, not mentioning Virgil since he didn’t think it was something too important to mention. Virgil had probably been dropped off soon after him in his house any way

(He wasn’t, but good old thomas didn’t know that just yet)

“That’s nice” Emile said with a small nod

Remy groaned

“This is so boringggg” he complained out loud, managing to sound both whiny and dignified some way “Dad, talk about how I burned down the school”

Thomas spluttered

“Wait? You burned down the school? Wasn’t it Virgil’s brother who did that?”

“Who the hell is Virgin?” Came the response

“Remy!” Emile scolded “That’s one for the swear jar”

Remy, the eternal drama queen, sighed loudly. He walked towards the swear jar and grumpily put a dollar there from his allowance (which was always next to the swear jar due to how much he swore)

“Whatever” he grumbled “Anyway, what does this Virgin kid have to do with anything?”

“It’s Virgil, Remy. With an l” Thomas tried explaning

“Whatever whatever, just tell me what does he have to do with anything?”

“Well... i’m sure you know Remus right?” Thomas began

“Of course I do. That kid’s a psycho”

“Remy!” Emile scolded again

Remy pouted

“Psycho isn’t even a swear word” he complained to no one in particular “Anyway, that kid’s something else”

“Yeah yeah. So.. Virgil is his brother and he’s in my class”

“Wait really? Are you friends?” Emile asked in his usual fashion, looking at Thomas while waiting for his answer

“Umm i’m not sure?” Thomas answered

“I mean, are you like Calvin and Hobbes close or more like just acquaintances?” Emile explained as if it made the question easier to answer.

Surprisingly, it did help.

“Umm. I mean, we talk sometimes? He and Roman have like this super heated rivalry thought..”

“They do?” Emile asked curiously

“Yep, they argue all the time and glare at each other for long periods of times. They’re also always giving each other nicknames like ‘prince charming’ and ‘fairest of them all’” Thomas said, recalling all the nicknames the two came up with. It really astounded him how many nicknames they had for the other.

(One time when thomas was over at Roman’s house in a sleepover, he caught Roman writing down nickname ideas on a journal. So at least he knew it wasn’t all in the spit thinking)

“Hmm” Emile mused with one of his knowing looks “Interesting”

Thomas was about to ask him what exactly was ‘interesting’ but was interrupted by none other than Emile.

“Now, let’s have some family bonding time! We can talk more about our days and watch cartoons. What do you kids think?”

Thomas responded affirmatively in the form of a loud whoop. Remy rolled his eyes but didn’t complain when the family went to the couch and started watching Steven Universe Reruns (He had to admit that the constant commentary of his family was kinda endearing)

So overall, they were a normal family watching tv in a normal fashion in their normal home. Completely, utterly normal.

If only the Sanders family was like that

•~•~~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~•~•~

“REMUS I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DONT LET GO OF THAT CAT I WILL GIVE IT UP FOR ADOPTION”

“NO! TIGER IS M I N E. HE’S MY PROPERTY NOW.”

“HE IS NOT YOUR PROPERTY. HE IS A CAT! WHICH MR HART HERE IS ALLERGIC TO”

“Please, call me Patton. And don’t worry, i took some medicine so Remus can bring the small kitty with us”

Janus turned to glare at the man and said

“Don’t encourage him, Patton”

Meanwhile, Remus gleamed and smugly said

“You know what? I think I like Mr Patton here more than I like you, dad”

This made Patton almost choke on his drink. He turned to Janus, expecting to see the man looking hurt or betrayed. After all, his 8 year old child said he liked his teacher more than him.

To his surprise, that wasn’t the case. Janus looked... unimpressed.

“Well I think I like my sanity more than i like you, Remus. So the tables are even” he deadpanned.

Patton would have continued gawking at the odd interaction if it weren’t for Janus snapping his finger.

“We gotta focus here. Virgil is MIA—“

“What’s MIA?” Remus asked, which reminded both adults that Remus was just an 8 year old despite how older he acted.

Patton was about to cut in to explain but Janus put a hand on his chest to stop Patton and beat him to it.

“MIA is Missing In Action. Which is what you will be if you keep interrupting” Janus said. Weirdly enough, the words didn’t seem threatening.

They sounded... actually kinda endearing to Patton?

Remus responded with a cackle

“Wow, death treats? You’re really running out of insults to say, my dear OLD dad” he said with the smirk of a tiny devil. The words sounded innocent to Patton, who didn’t see Remus’ smirk and still thought the kid was a good boy.

But Janus? Janus wasn’t fooled. His eyes narrowed. He said nothing thought and instead removed his hand from Patton’s chest and turned to have a heated glare contest with his son.

Patton stared between the two helplessly. Were they gonna fight?

It seemed like it.

Especially with how incredibly smug Remus’ smirk looked.

“What’s wrong dad? Am I pissing you off?” He taunted

Patton gasped loudly. Did Remus just swear? Surely that was unacceptable.

He looked around, expecting to see one of the common ‘swear jars’ families had. He found none

He turned to Janus and expected him to be holding the swear jar because surely a dad wouldn’t let his sons curse like that.

Janus for his part, looked calm. Eerily calm.

“Remus. Let go of that godamn cat before i take away your legos” He said calmly, in the most threatening voice Patton had heard him use.

Remus’ eyes widened in fear. But Patton realized it wasn’t fear of his father, but for his.. legos?

This was confusing him to no ends.

“Fine fine. No need to threaten a kid with that” Remus complied, letting Tiger go. He then stage whispered to the cat “Start world domination while i’m gone. I believe in you”

He turned to give Janus an innocent smile

“Let’s go, Father” he said in an exaggeratedly posh voice as he walked towards the car “We got a kidnapper to find”

“A.... kidnapper?” Patton spluttered in confusion “what is.. why would...how... why? Just why?”

Janus shrugged

“This is a weird family, Patton Hart” he said as he too walked outside “You better get used to it”

Patton was not sure he would. But he was sure he would try.

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[makeste]

Who is the bitch in the first year hero courses most down for murder, do you think? Surprisingly, despite being the only one to actually MAKE death threats, I'm mot sure Bakugou is all that high up there? When you've got Todo freezing people from the inside out, Mushroom Girl choking people, Honenuki drowning people and dropping industrial chimneys on them etc etc... What would your rankings be?

what better way to spend a Sunday evening than by ranking all of U.A.’s first-year students by murder.

disclaimer: I am doing this for fun and this entire post is ridiculous so please do not take it too seriously. also just a heads up, this post contains some recent manga spoilers as well as a couple of spoilers for Heroes Rising. now then, let’s quantify these bloodthirsty little savages.

okay so despite being entirely too plus ultra for their own good, approximately 99% of these kids would never dream of doing any kind of permanent harm to another living being. so I’m just listing the first thirty in no particular order, and then we’ll get to ranking the top ten.

Aoyama

despite having that brief moment in chapter 167 where virtually everyone thought he was a serial killer, Aoyama is actually a good boy. a bit stalkerish, maybe.

Mina

Mina did dream up that one attack where Ochako floats her up in the air so that she can rain acid down on people, which is slightly homicidal. but she’s not a killer. honestly if she was we’d all be dead already. see: thicc Girl Noumu.

Tsuyu

if Tsuyu had ever killed someone she would have already told everyone all about it because she is open about these things so safe to say she is not a killer.

Ochako

all Ochako wants to do is help and support people. she can be pretty hardcore from time to time but my baby girl would never. not to say that villain wouldn’t be a good look on her. I still get a shiver up my spine remembering that one time Toga turned into her and demonstrated exactly how deadly her quirk could be.

Ojiro

nah. the worst thing Ojiro has ever done was throwing his empty plain yogurt cup into the wrong recycling bin by accident, and he felt terrible about it afterward.

Kaminari

real talk, Kaminari could very easily kill a ton of people with his quirk if he actually tried. but he hasn’t, because he is only two and is too busy learning his shapes and colors and leaving his lego duplo blocks all over the carpet for other people to trip on.

Kirishima

do I even have to justify this at all. duh Kirishima doesn’t murder people sorry to anyone who came into this post all excited to read a big paragraph going off about Kiri’s raw bloodlust. I don’t know what you expected.

Kouda

Kouda is probably deadlier than everyone thinks. imagine him commanding, say, a mob of giant hornets to swarm and kill someone. it’s a good thing he wouldn’t actually hurt a fly.

Satou

I sat here for a while thinking about what I could say about Satou. but just. can you picture him killing a guy? nah, me neither.

Shouji

one of the things I like about Shouji is that he looks older than he is, and kind of creepy, what with the masked face and the freaky tentacle arms and all the like. and so he very likely experienced some of that good old fashioned quirk racism growing up, and people were afraid of him and/or thought he would become a villain. but instead he decided to become a hero. and I think that says so much about Shouji’s character. it reminds me a lot of Shinsou; his desire to become a hero was so strong that he overcame prejudice and circumstances which could just have easily have led to him becoming a villain (and in fact, it’s not all that different from some of the actual villain backstories). anyway so yeah no murder for him.

Jirou

I think she would consider killing anyone who ever hurt Momo or Kami, but aside from that NO because she is a good pure girl who loves music and rocking out and putting smiles on people’s faces.

Sero

poor Sero is so not-murdery that when he does get pitted against someone with more murdery energy such as Todoroki, he basically gets immediately overwhelmed and everyone is just kind of wincing and then timidly applauding him and saying “good try.” that’s Sero’s life. he would just sit there and get murdered rather than going in for the kill. he’s a good bro.

Mineta

needs several restraining orders filed against him, but wouldn’t actually kill someone.

Momo

well one time she did explode a grenade in Aizawa’s face. but no.

Awase

now we have come to the 1-B kids. I will give brief descriptions in case you, like me, sometimes have trouble remembering their names. so, Awase! the welding, Momo-rescuing one. he is not murdery.

Sen

the rotating limbs one. one of the least murdery kids in the fairly murderous 1-B on account of his quirk is just too ridiculous. sorry Sen.

Kuroiro

the Tokoyami one. more likely to bore you to tears talking about death than actually kill someone. which is too bad because he honestly would make a pretty bitching assassin.

Kendou

would say she’s probably in the top fifteen. god I love her quirk so much. just want her to slap some bitches to death. but she probably wouldn’t.

Shishida

the growly monster one. he does get some bonus points for tending to lose control once he goes full beastmode and werewolfs out. and he is fairly deadly.

Shouda

the roly poly double smashy one. it’s actually only a matter of time before Shouda kills someone, most likely. his quirk is way too dangerous, and the thing is, it’s probably hard for him to tell how dangerous a particular impact is going to be beforehand. one of these days it’s gonna be way stronger than he intends and somebody’s neck is gonna get snapped.

Pony

never forget that time Pony stabbed Ojiro and Shouji like a dozen times and everybody was just cool with it.

Tsuburaba

the air platform one. he did try to suffocate Kouda that one time.

Tetsutetsu

only if he’s fighting Shouto. or teamed up with Shouto. then all bets are off as to whether or not he’s going to drill his superheated steel fist right through somebody’s face.

Tokage

the severed limbs one. she just has kind of a murdery vibe to her. stalking everyone with her various body parts. yuuugh. I bet if she did kill someone nobody would ever be able to prove it was her.

Manga

the speech bubble head one. is going to destroy so much public and private property once he’s set loose on the streets. but no deaths.

Bondo

the glue one. and nah, Bondo is cool.

Koudai

the Ant-Man one. doesn’t strike me as particularly murderous, I even went and reread her part of the joint training arc to confirm it. she’s fine.

Rin

the kung fu dragon one. not especially murdery. overall probably one of the least bloodthirsty in class 1-B in fact.

Shiozaki

the vines one. she’s extremely murdery. I can’t be the only one who thinks that, can I? Shiozaki scares the shit out of me. if I were Kaminari I would have nightmares about her.

Monoma

would murder every single member of class 1-A if he could. would be the criminal in a Detective Conan two-parter. would give a long monologue about always being the side character and never in the starring role until one day he finally couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. why does his hero costume make it look as though he’s going to steal a bunch of famous jewels out from under everyone’s noses. nah but I’m just kidding and Monoma would never actually kill someone. but one day he’s probably going to be framed for murder by a villain and Kendou and Shinsou will have to team up to defend him and catch the real culprit.

10. Yanagi

the creepy pale ghost-girl-looking one. contrary to what you are probably all thinking, her high ranking isn’t just because of her general horror film vibe, but also because she attempted to bludgeon Mina to death during the joint battle arc. but also yes it is because of her general horror film vibe.

9. Kamakiri

the stabby one. he’s up here because I’m pretty sure he tried to kill Jirou that one time. like what was he even gonna do if Bakugou hadn’t stepped in. though to be fair I don’t think he actually had his knives out at the time so maybe he was just gonna elbow her in the face or something idk.

8. Bakugou

I agree with you that Bakugou is much more bark than bite, anon. and not only is he remarkably careful and precise with his quirk and good at avoiding any collateral damage (and even better IMO ever since his supplementary training), I think that due to his various struggles with being perceived as a villain and also trying to find his own understanding of what being a hero means, he’s probably more self-aware than most of the other kids at this point when it comes to matters of “is this morally okay.” so in spite of his generally violent demeanor, I very much doubt he ever would or could actually kill someone. but he’s in the top ten because his high shounen protagonist levels do place him in the “would potentially go apeshit if and when something happened to someone he cares about” category, though. and also because he and Deku did basically attempt to disintegrate Nine, and then when Nine just dropped off the face of the earth afterwards, no one even bothered to wonder what had happened to him. which leads me to wonder if Deku and Katsuki straight up assume they did in fact kill him and just dgaf.

7. Deku

see above re: Nine. and also he may have to kill AFO one day. so while he probably wouldn’t be happy about it, I think he could still potentially do it. and also because he absolutely does lose his gotdamn mind every time someone hurts one of his friends, and especially Kacchan, and I could picture him just snapping if something really awful ever actually did happen. I don’t think it would in canon because it’s just way too dark, but I don’t think it’d be out of character if he did.

6. Iida

literally tracked down the villain who attacked his brother with the full intent of personally killing said villain once he got his hands on him. true, Shouto and Deku talked him out of it in the end, but still. that was some real motherfucking killing intent. also I will never forget the image of this kid sitting his ass down in middle of the woods and mutilating his own goddamn body without any anesthesia. listen, everyone. just please, for your own safety, do not fuck with Iida.

5. Shouto

and now we reach the top five. listen, feel free to disagree, but I stand firm in my belief that out of all the non-traitor and non-demon-possessed children in class 1-A, Todoroki Shouto is absolutely the most likely to straight up just kill a bitch one day. this boy froze a man from the inside out until a tower of fucking ice was jutting out of his fucking throat, and was all “go ahead and hibernate for a while” like excuse me, THE FUCK. and the thing is, this wasn’t just a one-time occurrence either; he literally pulls this kind of shit ALL THE TIME. froze an entire fucking building with his classmates in it and was all “feel free to bring it on but fighting without the soles of your feet will be painful.” heh. what the fuck. and do you all remember when he fought Sero and was in a bad mood so he iced half the fucking stadium. nearly killed a few people right then and there. “I got carried away.” whaaaaaaat. and I could go on and on; he nearly burned poor Shindou alive, and basically the entirety of chapter 205 could have been submitted as evidence in a court of law had that training battle against Tetsutetsu gone only slightly differently. basically Shouto is an entirely too realistic portrayal of a very sweet but marginally unstable boy with a completely broken power and a shitload of unresolved personal trauma which he is still working through.

4. Honenuki

somehow more murdery than Todoroki “HIBERNATE!!” Shouto. this is entirely because of chapter 205, formerly the most murdery chapter of the entire series, and dethroned only by the recent chapter 266 for obvious reasons. anyway so during the joint training battle, Honenuki bludgeoned Todoroki in the back of the head and would probably have let his unconscious body slump into the softened ground to drown had Iida not saved him. he then proceeded to drop a water tower on top of the both of them. a whole-ass water tower. this was a fucking training exercise. and Honenuki was the only one who kept his calm throughout the entirely of said exercise. and he was praised for his calm murdering skills afterward. because he was fucking awesome tbh. anyway but the point is this is supposed to be a hero school not an assassin school but I’m not really sure anymore you guys.

3. Tokoyami

my man would have straight up killed Moonfish in that forest and sure did try his best. he’s got the same issue as Todoroki in that his quirk is as powerful as it is unstable. and while he himself is not murdery, when Dark Shadow loses control, though… hooooh boy. I was gonna add something about him also interning under Takami “literally stabbed my friend in the neck for the greater good” Keigo, but I think that makes them both come off as more sinister than they actually are. I do think a big part of Tokoyami’s story is him overcoming his inner darkness and wresting control of it and mastering it, so I don’t think it’s very likely that he actually will kill someone in the story. but he’s got a murdery side, no two ways about it.

2. Toadette

straight up filled Tokoyami’s windpipe with mushrooms during a training exercise. he uses that to breathe, fyi. she then offered him a lozenge afterward. do not fuck with Toadette. do not. just don’t.

1. Hagakure

last but not least! Hagakure “hasn’t killed anyone officially but is also definitely the traitor” Tooru! y’all know how it is! I’m committed to this theory! I’d even be willing to put money on a reveal scene where she does just straight up kill someone, and that’s our cliffhanger establishing that the traitor is none other than! and this is coming up sooner than you might think too, guys. Horikoshi brought up the traitor again relatively recently during the Christmas Eve chapter, and that kind of foreshadowing isn’t for nothing. anyways I’m here for it though so bring on that body count you funky little turncoat.

so there you have it. my not-that-definitive definitive ranking of classes 1-A and 1-B by murderous inclination. there’s really not that much rhyme or reason to it tbh but this was fun, thank you anon!

[starkeristheendgame]

hey!! im really sorry to bother but i really love your writing & saw that you were taking prompts!! i was wondering if you could do one where tony has a sort of kink for calling peter ‘kid’ in a way, if your comfortable of course! sorry if my English isn’t the best!

I’m so sorry that this got buried to the bottom of my inbox! I hope you’re still around and that you get to see this, and I’m so sorry again that it drowned! I hope you enjoy it and I can only apologise if you hate it 😂

Also; please, please don’t ever apologise for your verbal or lingual ability. Learning another language is hard, and English is noted as one of (if not the most) hardest languages to learn. Being bi/multi-lingual is something to be insanely proud of!

I hope you don’t mind, but all of my prompts recently have been in canon universe, so this is a neighbours AU with no powers. In which Tony is a rich ex-businessman who just wants to tinker on old cars in his (not) retirement and Peter is the high school kid that won’t leave him alone.

TW: ‘Kid’ kink (the term) | Underage character | Underage (SS&C) sex | Daddy kink

Someone had bought the house next to his over the half-term. Peter knew this because the sale sign went down and the garden was immediately de-turfed and a notice was posted through everyone’s door on Wayforest Road that ‘minor construction’ would begun within the next two weeks, from 8am to 5pm daily, save for Saturdays and Sundays.

Peter wanted to laugh in - and then punch - the face of whoever decided to term it minor. Abruptly on the following Monday, almost a full half-hour before his alarm was due to go off, Peter was awoken by deep, loud voices and the clanging of scaffolding poles as the workmen arrived.

Groaning did nothing. Neither did flopping about pathetically on his bed like a beached fish. Burrowing under his duvet and his pillow was also a lost cause; he’d left his window open to keep his room cool in the night.

Seething, Peter flung himself from bed, turned off his alarm, and hopped in the shower. The workmen were gone when he came back, but the house was now a big, ugly grey thing besides his own, and he paused on the sidewalk to eye it mulishly. “If you’re another crabby old man; I’m not helping you walk your groceries up to your porch” he announced loudly to the empty house, and scuttled away to the safety of his own home after being eyed balefully and judgmentally by Mrs. Witkin’s cat.

At the dinner table, the new house and its new occupants were all Aunt May seemed to want to talk about, despite the way Peter’s face resembled less of his usual ‘ :) ‘ and more of a ‘ -.- ‘ as she went on, guessing the features of their new neighbour animatedly around mouthfuls of mashed potato.

Tuesday morning found him jolting awake to a shout of “Jim! Jim! For fuck’s sake, Jim, get tha’ fuckin’ plank!” In a thick, overly loud Irish accent.

By Friday, Peter was ready to forgo just a punch to the face, and was willing to commit all out, planned murder. At somewhere around seven-am every morning that week, the workmen had woken him up with their clanging and their shouting and their existing. Friday evening he stomped around the corner with a glower, fingers tight around his backpack straps. Not even Mrs. Witkin’s mean old cat could deter him from scowling at the house the entire way to his door.

Town rumours be damned; that cat was just old and judgemental, like half the residents there. It was no trapped old lady or cursed young Prince.

Hopefully.

Peter crossed himself on his porch quickly just in case. It could never hurt to be a little superstitious. Especially not after the day that Mr. Herald proclaimed himself immortal and was then promptly wiped out by the tree in his yard collapsing.

By the following Monday, Peter caved and stayed at Ned’s for the night, for the first time in his entire life thankful to hear the music of his alarm and not a series of clangs or yells. It was even good enough that Ned’s snoring didn’t disturb him as much as it usually did. He felt chipper, refreshed. Right up until he turned the corner and found his street lined with vans, the workmen a little late finishing.

The next two months were cesspit of noise and strange men and sleepless days off. Apparently the person who had bought the house must’ve only liked the area and nothing about the house at all, because by week three, all that remained of it was the bare skeleton, gutted and stripped and ugly. But Peter was willing to concede that his new neighbour had good taste.

By the end of the second month the house had been entirely re-built, and Peter was convinced that his new neighbour was some very famous or important person looking for a secret hideaway, or a mob boss. There was no other logical explanation. What had once been a decent but generic detached property with a neglected garden was now a mini-mansion of sorts, all soft creams and light earth tones, with a stonewall front and staggered steps that led onto a half-gravel and half-grass front yard.

Large paned windows were already lined with thick curtains and plants and a sweeping gravel-scape led to a large garage, that seemed to be the most work of the renovation. It was huge, probably taking up over half of what used to be side garden and dead grass. No fence bordered the property, but the difference between Peter’s space and the new person’s space was immaculate and definitive.

“Huh” he mused aloud, blinking. Suddenly, he was less irritated at all those lost half-hours and more curious about who was going to be living there. They had money, for sure. Inheritance? Insurance claim payout? Illegal happenings? Aunt May’s two joking theories were suddenly looking less of a joke and more genuine possibilities.

As it would happen, Peter wouldn’t actually find out for another three or so months. The man moved in on a Saturday, quietly and with a small fleet of sleek SUV vehicles and fancy moving vans. Peter enjoyed a lazy morning, napping until the start of the afternoon and basking in the summer warmth, stretching in front of his bedroom window and looking down in time to see the last of the delivery and moving people packing down their vehicles.

Peter eyed all the bodies curiously, but it soon became clear none of them were his new neighbour, because they all stood around, flipping through paperwork, and then promptly left. Peter lingered under the pretence of dusting at his window ledge, but the street was quiet and empty.

Aunt May was anything but quiet when he finally dragged himself downstairs in search of food. “Peter! Morning, honey. Did you see the vans outside? Very fancy. Big enough for bodies, too, though” May hummed, flipping through the book she was currently reading.

Thirty Ways To Revive Your Youth.

Peter grimaced, and begun to rummage through the cupboards. “Not to question your intelligence, but. Why would a mob boss carry around his victims? Like a few teeth or knuckles ought to serve as good souvenirs. I don’t think carting around whole bodies is practical” Peter pointed out, settling on fruity oatmeal. Aunt May paused in her reading, nose twitching to adjust her glasses as she considered it.

“Hm. Point. Unless they bought the house because they run out of burial room, and these are fairly recent bodies they need the new soil for” she pointed out, and Peter pointed his spoon at her as he passed.

“Point” he agreed.

And so the weeks passed, but the mystery remained. No matter what time Peter tired to linger, or how early he awoke, his neighbour never seemed to be around. Here and there he would catch a figure roaming past the windows, kinda like a ghost, but never a clear view or a face. It was vastly disappointing, but his interest didn’t wane over the months that spanned between his rueful lack of sleep and now.

Now being a hazy Saturday morning, warm but not overly stuffy. Peter was coming back from a morning at Ned’s wherein they’d been steadily chewing away at the LEGO Galactic Supership. He was halfway down the street when a large trailer vehicle begun to drift down the street steadily, heading straight in Peter’s direction.

He paused on the sidewalk, watching it with interest. It was a transportation vehicle, and as it drew closer Peter could see there was a car on the back of it, heavily clamped down and chained to make sure it wouldn’t roll off. The vehicle passed him by some, and he got a clear view of the other car. It looked old, a little broken, rusted. Huge, though. Bigger than all the cars he’d seen before.

It pulled up right outside his neighbours house. Sensing an opportunity, and genuinely curious, Peter lingered, taking a few steps across the sidewalk to eye the car. It was a glossy red, though it had sun fade and was patchy. The chrome was glossy in places and dull, rusted in others. One headlight was missing.

The door of the cab opened, and Peter turned on his heel to see the driver getting out. The friendly greeting died on his lips as toned, thick thighs slid from the cab, followed by trim hips and a long, solid torso only half-hidden under a tank-shirt and overshirt. Broad shoulders prefaced the hottest man that Peter had ever laid eyes on.

He had a shaped jaw that was cut by stubble in a unique style that Peter had never seen anyone wearing before. He had sharp cheeks and dark, deep eyes with long lashes, tanned but not exactly browned and dark, dark hair with the barest flecks of grey at the roots, at his temples.

The man seemed surprised to find him there, pausing mid-way through pushing the door shut and peering around the street before looking back at him. One shaped brow lifted, and Peter stumbled to remember his manners, thrusting out a hand.

“Hi, Mister. Sorry - I was looking at the car. Is it for the new house?” He asked, forcing himself not to blush under the intense gaze. After a brief pause, the man took his hand, palm large and slightly rough, grip firm. He was even more attractive up close, slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, dark lips and the strong scent of motor oil and grease.

“Would seem that way”.

And Ho-ly voice. Deep and with the softest of rumbles, soothing like a thunderstorm in the far distance. Peter clutched at his jacket when their hands dropped, coughing politely to hide whatever facial expression he’d pulled. The man strode past him and to the car, beginning to work on the many safety straps and chains.

“Did they…Is this theirs?” Peter asked after watching him quietly for several moments with a gesture towards the house besides them. Peter had discovered the house had a second parking bay on the other side, where a glossy black muscle car from the 60′s never seemed to move.

“Theirs’?” The man echoed, pausing in his movements to look up at Peter with curious amusement. It occurred to him then that it was likely some random car recovery guy had seen his new neighbour(s) before he had.

“Uh…Well. I’ve never actually seen them. So I don’t know if its one person, or a whole family, or…” Peter trailed off meekly, looking over his shoulder at the building. It looked as empty as it always did, no lights on and no figures moving behind the windows.

“Townsfolk say its some celebrity having a breakdown. Others say its some old widow using her husband’s life insurance. Even heard from someone that its a mafia lord, settling down in the middle of some quiet ass nowhere town” the recovery man grunted, hauling on a thick, heavy chain. Peter flushed.

Yeah. He was…Guilty of some pretty crazy guesses. But come on. Someone buys a house, spends upwards of hundreds of thousands doing it over, and then…Nothing. No new faces at the grocery store. Never seen, or even heard. Like a ghost.

“They’re not big fans of being…Seen. I guess? I mean, I know a guy with groceries comes around every Monday. Sometimes multiple times a week, but he always puts them in the garage and leaves. And this town is full of judgemental old people - Half of whom probably have mercury poisoning or something. There’s gonna be some pretty wild speculations going around” he pointed out, moving closer to look at what appeared to be a scratch in the paintwork.

The car gave a faint creak as the man released all of the holds on this side, snorting as he rounded the back of the vehicle and went to the other side with a loud, amused snort. Peter followed, and stifled a gasp at the sight of the other car. The man turned, eyeing him for a moment, before nodding.

“Got T-boned by an estate car. But she’s a tough old thing. Heavy metals and good steel; not like today’s cars. She came out better off” he mumbled as he worked on a thick strap, carefully taking apart the various clasps and buckles. Peter approached the car carefully, stretching up on his toes to brush his fingertips over the warped metal. He felt almost….Sad for the car.

He traced the flaking paint and the twisted, dented metal tenderly, and when he pulled away, the man was watching him again, movements slowed as he pulled the material through the metal. “Is this their car? What good is it now if its all broken up?” He asked curiously.

The man ducked his head, moving onto another thick chain. “Its just the one guy. I guess its a…Hobby. Of his. Bought her yesterday at a scrap lot”. He seemed uncomfortable saying it, but to Peter it was like gold trust. One guy. Huh. A big old house like that? That seemed rather lonely. Maybe it really was some rich old person retiring, enjoying a quiet place and a mechanics hobby.

Peter was going to ask more, but the car was freed with a grinding sound, and the man gestured him carefully back with his hand, holding it out in front of Peter to walk him back like a horse, to a safe distance. The man used two remotes to bring the car to the ground, Peter watching in fascination as rotors and rolling mechanisms moved it backwards and onto the tarmac of the road.

“How do you plan on moving it now?” Peter asked, and immediately regretted it as the man shed his over-shirt. Biceps. Shoulders. Forearms. His throat went dry and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

As it turns out, the plan was simply ‘push’. Peter scoffed, but was soon at a loss to anything but stare as the man leaned heavily against the trunk of the car, muscles bulging in the afternoon sun. Heavy or not, the car soon begun to roll, and after a moment Peter dropped his backpack and came up besides the straining man, leaning all his might against the metal.

It probably did fuck all, but the man gave him a wry grin all the same, chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths as they moved the car across the flat ground and onto the side-drive space. Peter’s shoulder ached and his arms and thighs suddenly felt like jelly, but the man slapped him across the back.

“Good effort, kid” and then moved away, heading towards the front door. Peter gaped as the man simply grasped the doorhandle and pushed the door open, and floundered on the drive. “Wait! You’re just gonna walk into his house?” He called, and the man paused mid-step, looking back at him.

“Well. I ought to just ‘walk in’. Its my house”. And with a lewd, perfect wink he was gone. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, flailing on the driveway with error logs flashing behind his eyes. That was his neighbour. His neighbour was some rich, late-thirty something hot-hot-hot guy who fixed broken classic cars.

“Oh my god” Peter muttered, stomping down the driveway to get his bags. Four months. He’d lived next to this Playgirl model for four months.

He decided against telling Aunt May. It felt selfish, but it also felt good to know he was the only person to have seen him. Even though he realised not long after reaching his room that he hadn’t even gotten his name. Peter waited by his window for hours, but saw neither hair nor hide of the man again. By morning, the transport truck was gone and the cherry red car was presumably inside the garage.

The damned guy was magic. There was no other explanation. Fuelled, Peter spent the Sunday morning in the kitchen, furiously baking with narrowed eyes and a plan. The muffins were done by mid-day, and Peter iced them carefully before boxing them, and stomping across the sidewalk to his neighbour’s house.

Peter knocked, and waited. Knocked again. Waited. “If you don’t answer the door then I’m just going to sit here” he announced loudly, knocking again before plopping down onto the porch just to prove a point. Several long minutes passed before his neighbour appeared around the corner, from the garage judging by the grease steaks up his arms, scowling.

“Kid. Here’s a life tip; if someone doesn’t answer the door, its because they don’t want company” the man huffed, but his eyes zeroed in on the box with intense curiosity, and Peter shrugged, smug.

“You came out, though” he pointed out, pushing himself to his feet. The man scoffed, but allowed him to follow, leading the way around the building where a small side-door was open.

“I came out about thirty years ago, kiddo. If that’s a congratulations cake, you’re a little late”. Peter tripped over the gravel, fighting his legs to remain upright and his stomach did a weird knot inside him. Oh. Not only was his neighbour hot, but he was at the least male inclined, too.

Very interesting.

“Actually, these are just welcome muffins. Chocolate and orange” Peter murmured, stepping inside the garage. It was bigger than it seemed, and the cherry red car stood in the centre, sanded down and clearly being worked on already.

“Peter, by the way. Peter Parker” he added after a pause, and almost offered his hand for a second time, but settled instead on thrusting the muffin box at the man. He raised a brow, but delved inside to pull one out, clearly eager at the prospect.

“Tony” he offered simply, and Peter tested it on his tongue, enjoying the shape. For now; he’d let the lack of a last name go. Good things in time, after-all. Choosing to invite himself to stay, Peter perched primly on top of the edge of the workbench, electing another raised brow, but Tony’s mouth was too full of muffin to object.

Tony begun to work as he ate, and Peter sat in content silence, watching as Tony and his bulging arm muscles took each wheel off the car and begun to strip it of all its chrome features. Peter checked his phone after a while and was surprised to find that around four hours had passed. May would be home from her sewing group about now. He ought to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow” he announced, and jumped at the same time Tony did, the man smacking his arm off warped metal with a shout. Tony whirled on him, eyes wide, gaze flicking between him and the door, before he looked…Confused.

“You’re still here?” He asked, and Peter snorted as he dusted off his pants, heading for the door with a shake of his head. May came home shortly after he did, and Peter supposed he ought to let her know that he’d be visiting Tony again tomorrow.

“So he’s not a mafia boss? Or a celebrity?” She asked around a mouthful of roasted chicken, looking rather disappointed as Peter shrugged and shook his head.

“He just seems…Aloof? I don’t know. Maybe he’s some business tycoon or something. But he seems nice. I’m just going over to help him with this car he’s got. It’s real nice, too” Peter hummed, and Aunt May narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know him. He’s a stranger. Albeit a hot one, apparently. And you have school tomorrow, too. You shouldn’t be hanging around strangers. Unless…If he happens to be single…I’d be open to his number” May shrugged after a pause, and Peter blinked.

May was surprisingly easy to placate, and he assured her that if she wanted to, she could march right over to Tony and give him a Mother Hen Talk after dinner, but she decided against that, and in favour of a hot bath. School on Monday rolled around quicker than Peter could say ‘garage’ and he decided against telling Ned about Tony.

He wanted Tony all to himself. At least…For as long as he could. It was strange, but he found his heart thumping as he marched down Tony’s driveway and up to the garage door this time, knocking on it loudly. He’d brought lemonade and sandwiches this time.

The garage door opened, and Tony looked equally as startled to see Peter there as he had the day prior, gaze raking his body before frowning, and stepping aside with a sigh. “You’re like a mosquito, kid. I came here to get away from people” Tony announced pointedly, and Peter founded on him with an unimpressed gaze and an arched brow of his own.

“If you truly wanted to get away from people, you’d have moved out in the mountains or something. Now, get back to work. In an hour you can stop for supper. I brought chicken sandwiches” he ordered, taking his seat from the day before and pulling his calculus homework from his bag.

He kept his gaze down as Toy stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times, before he went for his wrench, muttering to himself as he lay down on a wheeled bench and rolled under the car. Peter smiled quietly into his papers. A little over two hours later - he lost count, sue him - Peter pushed himself to his feet and strode over to the car, kicking Tony lightly in the ankle that stuck out.

“We can eat now” he announced, walking back over to his pack and taking out the tupperware he’d packed this morning. He could hear the sound of the wheels moving, and he turned, holding out the box. Tony looked perplexed, but approached and took it, still looking puzzled even as he bit into his own portion.

“Not that the pattern of snacks isn’t appreciated, kid, but…Why are you here?” he asked after he’d swallowed, and Peter actually had to think about it, flushing as his mind conjured up inappropriate responses like ‘I want to lick your arms’ and ‘You look like the hot mechanics in my pornos’.

He settled on a shrug, chewing slowly for more time. “You’re interesting. You’re my neighbour. You’re not a mafia boss or a broken down celebrity” he pointed out. Tony twitched on the last one, but gave a hum and moved away, scarfing down the last of his sandwich and returning to the car. This time, when Peter informed him he was leaving and would be back tomorrow again, Tony neither jumped nor looked surprised.

It became a pattern. Three out of seven days a week, Peter would sit in the garage with his homework or revision and Tony would work on the red car, which Peter came to learn was a 1958 Plymouth Fury. “Just like in Christine” Tony had huffed proudly, and had then been quickly appalled when Peter had simply stared blankly.

That night, Peter had watched the movie, and his next visit was spent talking animatedly about it with Tony, discussing their favourite parts and what it might be like if it was ever re-made. After a month, Aunt May picked her way across the gravel to finally meet the man her adopted son kept disappearing off to be with, and Peter had the unfortunate experience of watching them flirt together, Tony in a cheeky, smooth, outrageous manner and Aunt May like a school-girl. When he begun to gag in the corner, Tony threw an oil rag at him.

One day, a week before the summer holidays, Peter rounded the corner to find Tony stood on the porch, looking angry and tense and talking to a tall woman with red hair, tied up in a ponytail. Peter stopped and lingered, unsure of what to do. Besides him and May, he’d never seen anyone else talking to Tony. Even the grocery delivery guy simply put the bags in the garage and left.

After a while, the woman turned away, looking sullen and displeased, and slipped into a sleek black SUV, pulling off with a screech of her tires and the rev of her engine. By the time Peter reached the house, Tony was back inside, and he knocked quietly, leaning closer to the door.

Tony didn’t answer.

“Mr. Tony? I’m not sure what happened, but…If you’re not up for hanging out today, its cool. I brought soup, but I’ll leave yours on the porch. It might be hot, so…Be careful”. Peter stooped and left the thermos close to the door, before leaving. He felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day, longed to go see Tony, but everything in his gut told him to let him be for a time.

Whoever that man had been, he was clearly someone Tony didn’t like or want around.

Almost a whole week passed in which Tony didn’t answer the door, and by the Saturday, the first official day of the summer holidays, Peter was moping. Not to anyone that asked, but it was clear to even Ned that he’d been a little down lately, declining a celebratory LEGO fest in exchange for slinking up to his room.

No sooner had he toed off his shoes, the doorbell rung. Peter groaned, turning on his heel and abandoning his sweater on the staircase. It was probably another of Aunt May’s Amazon orders. Since she’d discovered the wonders of online shopping, Peter had learned their regular post-man was named Greg, he had two kids and a poodle, and was allergic to shrimp.

“What has she bought this ti- Tony?” Peter paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight on his doorstep. Tony looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his face looking more lined than before, but he gave a weak smile up at Peter, still stiff and unsure.

“Hey, kiddo. Figured you might…I made spaghetti. And I still have your thermos. Was gonna work on the car a bit”.

Peter recognised it for the attempted invitation that it was, and didn’t bother to fight off his broad grin. “Lucky for you, I love spaghetti. I just gotta grab a sweater on” he beamed, practically flinging himself up the stairs. Tony’s spaghetti was amazing, with some kind of pink-ish sauce, little chunks of shrimp and prawns, all tangy and sweet.

He even let Peter help with the car. Or…Well. He let Peter hold the torch. And the wrench. But still.

He was still grinning when he skipped home that evening, and when he crawled into bed his dreams were filled with oil-stained arms and a low, rumbling voice. He gasped awake in the early hours, cock hard and leaning against his hip, Tony’s voice echoing in his skull.

He shouldn’t.

He bit his lip and reached down, whimpering as he wrapped a hand around himself. He was too hard to last more than a few minutes, stifling his yell of “Tony!” Into his pillow as he came. When he arrived at Tony’s house later in the day, he could barely look the man in the eyes, flustered and shy.

The holidays continued in a similar fashion. They hung out almost every day in the garage, often for an entire day. Peter felt guilty about abandoning Ned, but looking at Tony’s broad smile, listening to his quips, watching his abs flex under his shirts as he lifted things...It was worth it.

By the fourth week of his holidays, after numerous days of lounging together with takeout and Tony helping him with his homework, Peter piped up.

“Peter”.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Peter” he repeated, nudging Tony gently where they lay together on the floor of the garage, staring up at the underside of the car. It was almost complete. Something to do with the clutch, and then all it needed was new paint. “You keep calling me ‘kid’. So. Y’know. In case you’d forgotten” he hummed.

Besides him Tony stilled, only briefly, before relaxing and swatting at him. “You are a kid, though”.

“I’m sixteen. I’m not a kid” Peter huffed, rolling onto his side and kneeing Tony in the thigh. Tony let his head loll, looking across at him with dark, dark eyes, and Peter’s breath hitched. Tony was close enough to kiss. And god, Peter wanted to kiss him. Had spent the past few weeks staring at his body, his mouth when he talked, waking up at night hard and aching.

Peter let his gaze drop, to plush lips outlined by dark stubble, and then he pushed himself up, momentarily hovering over Tony as he got his legs beneath him. “And you’re an old man” he tried, teasing, tugging at a lock of hair at Tony’s temple.

For the briefest, briefest of moments, Tony’s gaze went even darker. Hungrier. Peter thought about it in the shower that night, two fingers stuffed inside himself with too-little prep, mewling against the shower tiles. Almost as if…

He begun to get bolder. Touched Tony more. Stood closer. Any excuse to be in his space. If Tony noticed he said nothing, only giving lingering, unreadable looks and only ever turning away with a poorly hidden smirk whenever Peter said anything just a little too obvious.

On the last week of his holidays, Peter was kneeling half over Tony, dabbing gingerly at a slice on his bicep while the man clutched an ice-pack to his knee. The cherry red car was out, and an old, 1957 Chrysler Saratoga was in. And apparently, angry.

“Kid, seriously. I’m fine” Tony huffed, swatting at him as he dabbed away another crust of blood, peering at the wound. It wasn’t that deep, but it had bled something fierce. Peter lifted his gaze, scowling at him.

“I’m not a kid!” He snarked, pressed a little too hard on the wound just because he could. Watched Tony flinch under his touch and instantly felt guilty. He pulled away the cloth and ducked down, pressed a kiss to the wound before he could ever think about it. Aunt May had always done it for him, kissing his ouchies better. He froze, lips against jagged skin.

“Kid” Tony rasped, looking down at him with wide, dark eyes. Peter jerked backwards, and huffed.

“Keep calling me kid, I’m gonna start calling you ‘old man’“ he scowled. He was about to say ‘Or worse, Dad’, but…That was a bumpy road and he wasn’t ready to loose whatever he had built with Tony. Not yet. The older man snorted back at him, eyes rolling, and reached out, fingers closing around his jaw gently to shake his head a little.

“Look at you. You are. That little baby face. And you’re so small, like a cat. All slender. Couldn’t even lift up the gearbox. All big eyes and too must trust. I could’ve been an old pervert or sex criminal and you just walked right up to me and wouldn’t leave” Tony murmured, voice half-gone and gaze fixed on where he held Peter’s jaw.

“Wouldn’t - Did not” Peter managed, though he was already getting hard, his breathing was already a little shorter. Sharper. Tony gave a deep breath, fingers flexing against his jaw.

“You’re just a kid. A little baby. All soft-cheeked and gentle. You’re a kid now and you’ll be a kid for a long time. Nothing like me”.

And. Huh.

Peter blinked, jaw still clasped in Tony’s grip, and he relaxed his body, inching a little closer. “What is it about that, then? Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Its not. Its not bad. I’m just…I’m the bad one. Christ. Kid. You’re - You sit here doing homework. You don’t even have facial hair yet. I bet you haven’t even popped a stiffy before”. The words startled Tony as much as Peter, both visibly jolting, and Tony immediately looked like he wanted to die.

“Hey! Not true! Every night this holiday I’ve done more than ‘pop a stiffy’ over y-”. Peter bit down on his tongue, hard, watched the way Tony’s eyes widened. Fuck. They both jerked backwards, equally as taken aback by the revelation. There was no doubt as to what Peter had been about to say. Now way he could laugh it off or change it; though the subject was bad enough.

“I…”

“Kid…”

Peter huffed, leaning back on his haunches and dropping the cloth. “What, you got a kink for the word or something, Mister Tony?” Peter grumbled, but he could see Tony physically tense up opposite him, and he looked up, watched the almost shameful way that Tony turned his gaze away.

It hit him.

“You…Do” he huffed numbly.

“Its not…Christ. Peter. I’m not a…I’m not attracted to kids. I don’t know what it is. I just…Fuck. Maybe you should be calling me an old pervert. Fuck. I…Peter. You have to believe I don’t..I’ve never touched a kid. Never. My youngest partner was twenty when I was thirty. She was a hooker in Dubai and…Wait. You’re a fucking kid. I shouldn’t be talking about hookers and swearing and-”

Peter clamped a hand over Tony’s mouth, shaking his head. Jesus. He knew it was true, though. Tony was a recluse and laughably inept at anything social, but he wasn’t some scorned kiddie-toucher banished to a quaint little town.

“I know, Tony. I know. And I believe you. But if its not that, then…What is it?”. Tony only blinked at him slowly, for several beats, and it was then that Peter realised that his hand was on Tony’s mouth, and the man couldn’t speak. Though he could well have moved it himself. He let it drop, flushing.

“I don’t know” Tony croaked helplessly, and he looked so small, so lost. It was instinct that had Peter leaning forwards, gathering Tony in a tight embrace. The older man stiffened, but then relaxed, hand hesitantly falling to Peter’s side, featherlight like he was scared to touch him.

“Its…You’re so delicate. So…Untouched. Like a painting. Pretty. You shouldn’t be touched. Not yet. Not by me. But I want to”. It made Peter’s spine tingle and arch, letting out a surprised breath against the curve of Tony’s jaw. Tony made him sound like the Mona Lisa or something.

“I’m not a good person, Peter. I’m…All these months, you don’t even know my last name. Half the town thinks I’m a murderer or some kind of lunatic. But I’m worse than that”. Tony practically breathed it into his shoulder, head falling. Peter clutched at him, suddenly scared. Worse than those things?

“Tony Stark”.

Peter paused. Was silent for such a long time that Tony tensed against him again, before he begun to pet gently at Tony’s shoulders. “…Who? I mean, the name is vaguely familiar. But…Who?”

Tony pulled away, leaned back, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a ludicrous expression. “Stark. Tony Stark”.

Peter raised a brow. “Bond, James Bond?”

“What? No. The weapons company? Stark Industries?” Tony asked after a pause, like it was information Peter ought to know. After another pause of his mind being ridiculously blank, Peter sat upright, head tilting.

“Oh! Yeah. Stark Industries. But…What about it?”

Tony blinked at him, slowly, like there was a punchline he’d missed, and then he was reaching out, crushing Peter to his chest to the boy fell half over him with a yelp, squeezing him gently.

“You’re - Unbelievable. Never change, kid. I’m…I did bad things. I killed people. Carried on the family name despite spending my life trying to outrun it. I…I was betrayed. So I fixed it, and I left. And I was supposed to keep my hands off anything good. Anyone good. And here you are”.

“Okay. Firstly? You gotta stop calling me ‘kid’ now I know its a kink and you don’t intend to do anything about it. Secondly…I don’t know what you did. Or what happened. But I know what you’ve been since you got here. Who you’ve become. And I think you’re a good man” he breathed, adjusting so he was no longer straining, half-straddling Tony.

“You shouldn’t…” Tony didn’t finish the sentence, and there were a million things he could’ve said. But Peter chose to ignore them all, squirming his way closer until he really was sat in Tony’s lap. And this was more than they’d ever done.

More than the one-armed hugs and lingering touches, more than leaning shoulder-to-shoulder eating noodles. More than Peter listing against Tony’s side in the early morning hours, maths homework forgotten on the bench and Tony sitting still, so still, so as not to wake him.

“I’m old enough to know ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, Mr. Stark. Besides. This is just…Hugging. Right? Innocent” he hummed, even as he deliberately shifted on Tony’s lap, a little heavier than he ought to, spread his legs wider around Tony’s hips.

“Ki- Peter” Tony huffed against him, fingers tightening around the hem of his sweater. It wasn’t until Peter shifted again that he realised; Tony was hard. Well. Getting there, but hard enough for Peter to recognise it. To feel it, digging into the round meat of his asscheek.

“I don’t touch kids” Tony repeated, and Peter snorted softly, shaking his head as he gripped at Tony’s broad shoulders, muscle honed by years of hard work. Muscle that led up to rough stubble, a sharp jaw that Peter nosed at.

“Good thing I’m not actually a kid then, Mr. Stark. That means you can touch”.

Tony surged forwards on a growl, lay Peter out like a feast on the garage floor; but still hovered over him. Reluctant. Uncertain. Peter lifted his legs, wrapped them around Tony’s waist, tight and steady. “Kiddo…”

“Mm. Your kiddo. Or I could be. If you kissed me” Peter grinned, breathless and bold with the sweet taste of Tony so close. Mere inches. “Kiss me” Peter repeated, and Tony growled as he surged downwards.

When Tony came, it was with ‘kid’ sharp and electric on his tongue. And…Well. Peter felt a little mollified, so naturally, it led to round two, pressing Tony down against the concrete, milking him for all he was worth as a broken ‘Peter!’ cracked on his tongue like a prayer.

The rounds after that were just…Well.

Purely selfish.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Knock-knock, knock, knock knock {One-Shot}**

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cheesy, Fluffy Goodness, NSFW, Mild Smut, Cursing

Words: 3.4k

Summary: We all know Chris is a Disney geek and we all know the beginning of this contagious song, he loves it, you—hate it, but you can’t say no to the big dork.

Note: Next up on Christmas With Lee. A cheesy Disney fluff-filled read with some spice. I hope you enjoy this. Thank you for reading!!!!

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

☃️☃️☃️☃️☃️☃️☃️☃️

“Uggh, more snow? How is it possible for it to snow even more?” You looked out your window at the falling snow that met the seven inches already on the ground. You hated the snow, it was cold, wet, and only was “pretty” for like an hour until traffic hit it or feet, then it turned to brown, dirty bacteria-filled disgustingness. You hated winter. Every time you turned around it was snowing. There hadn’t been a winter where you didn’t get sick, slip, trip and bust your ass all because of the snow. You were already over it. Living in Boston you were in prime snow time. The snow season had just begun.

 Dropping into your couch you pulled your mermaid tail blanket up around you and surfed the channels trying to find something to watch. You were home at Christmas because your parents were away on a Christmas cruise and you really didn’t want to be around them being all mushy and gushy. You didn’t mind, there was nothing wrong with being alone. More times than not you enjoyed it more than being around people—well most people, except Chris.

 You found a cheesy Christmas movie and decided to sit through its predictableness. It was a plot as old as time. Prince is in town and needs a service but chooses a lesser-known vendor and while working together they fell in love and then there was a catastrophic falling out usually something like the girl finding out about a long lost fiancé or woman hoping to snag her prince and she runs off feeling hurt and betrayed that the prince she’d known for four days had a life before her. Then miraculously by the end, all was well, and they lived happily ever after. It was the recipe for every novel, movie, tv-show and tv movie. You knew it well.

An hour later the closing credits sealed every one of your predictions. Even though it was predictable and cheesy you still enjoyed it. as you were scrolling for another you heard a series of knocks at your door. Pausing and muting the TV you listened again and there it was.

 Knock-knock, knock, knock knock.

 You found it strange because you had a doorbell, and everyone used doorbells these days. Ignoring it you unmuted the TV. Several seconds later the knocks came again.

Knock-knock, knock, knock knock.

 You were warm and comfortable and had no intention of getting up to answer the door. No one ever dropped by unannounced, everyone knew to text or call first. The knocks continued, louder than ever this time.

 Knock-knock, knock, knock knock.

 You scrunched up your nose and groaned loudly. “Go away!”

 Knock-knock, knock, knock knock.

 “Get the fuck away from my door or I swear I will come out there and beat your ass with my baseball bat signed by the entire Red Sox team. I swear I’ll do it!”

You waited to see if there would be any more knocking but there was none. You sighed out, pleased with yourself. Just as you were about to continue on with your plan for the afternoon the knocks came again.

 Knock-knock, knock, knock knock.

 Groaning you kicked off your blanket and stomped to the door ready to fling it open and beat their ass. As you wrapped your hand around the handle of your baseball bat you kept at the door you paused. The rhythm of the knocks finally registered. Exaggeratedly rolling your eyes you leaned against the door waiting for it again. Like clockwork it did.

 Knock-knock, knock, knock knock.

 You swung open the door to see Chris dressed his best for the weather with a huge smile on his face. as he opened his mouth you knew what was going to come out.

 “Do you wanna build a sno—,” Chris began in the sing-song voice from Frozen. Before he could finish you nipped it in the bud.

 “No don’t you dare finish that!” His smile didn’t fall and the glint in his eyes did die out, he still looked adorkable. you wanted to smile but he would have taken that as motivation.

 “Do you wanna build a sno—.”

 Again, you interrupted him holding your hands up.

 “I swear Chris if you finish it I’ll slam this door in your face. don’t do it,” you warned. He stared at you sizing you up trying to see if you really would.

 “Don’t test me, Evans.”

 Chris narrowed his eyes and you knew his defiance was coming.

 “Do you wanna build a snowman!” He was loud as hell and so was the slam of your door in his face.

 You walked away back to the couch and snuggled back in with your mermaid tail on. After a few seconds, Chris used his key and walked inside.

 “You really slammed the door in my face.”

 “I sure as hell did. You were warned. You did it to yourself really.” He dropped onto the couch onto your feet.

 “Hey, those are my feet, Evans. Get off!” you nudged your foot kicking him in the ass, he sprang up and glared at you.

 “Let’s go, it’s prime snowman weather. The snow is falling which means the one that is already there is hard enough but the fresh one will add a layer of soft fluffiness to it. it’ll be great.”

 “Who the hell are you?”

 “Your best friend come on, Y-L-N. What else were you going to do? It’s Christmas and you’re alone.”

 “I’m okay being alone,” you protested skipping through channels. Chris grabbed the remote and put it on top of the fireplace mantel.

 “Don’t start a war.”

 “Come on. One hour that is all I’m asking for. One hour of snowman fun and then we’ll do whatever you want to do.” When you didn’t answer Chris narrowed his eyes and pulled your mermaid tail blanket off your legs and held it.

 “I will throw this in the fire,” he countered.

 “You wouldn’t dare.” He knew it was your favorite blanket, it was a gift from him.

 Chris held it in front of the fire, and you leaped up and to him trying to get the blanket. He moved around your living room evading every one of your attempts. Soon he stumbled and fell back onto the couch with you on top of him. Your eyes met and the air in the room suddenly was the thickest thing. Taking a shaky breath in you bit your bottom lip. the proximity to him was making your heart flutter way too quickly. Clearing your throat, you got off of him and stood away from the couch. He sat up and avoided your eyes.

 “Snowman, you get your blanket back.”

 “You drive a hard bargain, Evans.” You walked off to your bedroom to get dressed ignoring anything that you may have thought you felt from moments ago.

 When the two of you walked outside you scrunched your nose and allowed Chris to lead you to his car.

 “I have the perfect spot.”

 He drove through the streets of downtown Boston you knew the route he was taking, it led to his mother’s house. Fifteen minutes later he parked in the driveway and led you to the orchard like area of the property. The snow was untouched.

 “See, it’s perfect.” He ran into it and dived into it and began making a snow angel.

 “How the hell do you like snow so much?”

 “What’s not to like. It’s the ultimate fine motor skill toy, better than Legos. You can make anything. Which brings us to our contest. Best snowman wins.”

 “Fine. Let’s get this over with you overgrown man child.”

 “Sticks and stones Y/N, sticks and stones.”

 Rolling your eyes, you began forming the bottom half of the snowman. You gathered a ball of snow and formed it perfectly then rolled it around the ground so it would pick up more as it needed. After a few rolls, it was difficult to maintain so you left it right there and piled snow on top of it. glancing over to Chris he was using muscle and brawn to get it down. Him and his big stupid muscles, what man needed all of that, you thought.

 Getting back to work you focused on your own snowman and not on what he was doing. It was difficult because as he built he sang every Disney song in the book and bounced you hoping to get you to sing along. It was not working. While his joy was infectious you refused to be infiltrated.

 Fifteen minutes later you were putting the finishing touches on your snowman who had turned out to not be half bad. You put your scarf around it and backed away to admire your handiwork.

 “Huh, not bad. Looks like the grinch can do something Christmasy after all,” Chris teased. You narrowed your eyes at him then looked to his snowman.

 “Jesus.” He’d turned it into a woman complete with big boobs and nipples too that were made from dark pebbles. “Can’t you take anything seriously?”

 “Why? Life is serious enough, gotta sprinkle some silliness in there sometime.” You smiled and shook your head. He had an uncanny way of making you smile, no one else could master the task.

 “Mine is the clear winner,” you announced.

 “Why?”

 “It is appropriate for children and looks like a classic snowman. Winner.”

 Suddenly you saw a huge snowball coming right at you. you ducked in the nick of time and gasped. “Really? That was close to my face!”

 Chris has a yikes look on and you looked back to where he looked and saw your snowman’s head on the ground smashed. “You killed snowy.” Chris laughed loudly and gripped his chest as he bent forward.

 “Snowy? That is so original of you Y/N.” He walked to it and began destroying it. you just stood there shocked.

 “Now Snowy’s destroyed.” you were shocked. Without thinking you bent down gathered a snowball and threw it at him, it hit him right in the forehead. You laughed loudly and staggered around trying to stay upright.

 “Snow fight!”

 Chris hurled snowball after snowball at you one after the other. Without having any time to react you ran and tried to hide from him and gather time to make your own. When you hid behind the garden trellis you formed six snowballs and decided on a sneak attack. You got onto your belly and slithered across the yard military style. You had no idea where he was. When you got to a tree you crouched behind it and spotted him across the yard hiding behind some bushes. Quickly you ran up to him and threw your snowballs making direct hits all over his upper torso.

 You didn’t see him rearing back with one of his own and it hit you right in your face sending you back into the snow. It hurt like hell.

 “Ow!” Chris was by your side in seconds.

 “Y/N, oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t aiming at your face. you’re just so short.”

 He pulled his gloves from his hands and wiped away the snow from your face and examined you to make sure you weren’t hurt. It was sweet but you took a handful of snow and smashed it in his face then rolled onto him and pushed snow on him. Chris did the same and soon the two of you were rolling and screaming as snow went everywhere. When you both stopped the two of you were laughing loudly, this time Chris was on top of you.

 “Oh my god, my face hurts,” you groaned.

 “Your face? my face hurts, so do my hands. they’re frozen. I was trying to make sure you were okay.”

 “You hit me in the face, Chris. Owwww.” You pouted and he smiled and brushed your face of the melting snow.

 “I’m sorry. It’s okay though. It’s still as beautiful as ever.” Your pout faded as you took him in. your belly again was doing somersaults and your heart was beating so quickly you were afraid it would beat out of your chest.

 “You said an hour of snowman and whatever I want,” you repeated.

 “I did. Consider your hour of snowman completed.” You smiled and bit your bottom lip.

 You’d imagined kissing him for years. All your friends teased you incessantly over how perfect you guys would be together and that you should get together but neither of you ever made the move. The time never seemed right. He was always off filming something or traveling here or there or in the middle of some fling with some actress or whoever. It never seemed like you were meant. Right now though, everything fell into line. He was single yet again, as were you, he was on an extended break from filming anything as he assessed his next moves in his career and right now seemed perfect.

 “So what is it that you want?”

 The moment stretched and slowly the two of you moved closer until your lips touched. When they did neither of you moved, you remained there feeling it out. You were the one to move your lips first and begin the most passionate kiss you’d ever had. Chris placed his hand over your forehead and kissed you back with an added fire that you were sure was melting the snow around you. soon your lips were wrestling through the dance of passion as you and he moaned and enjoyed the first action of moving your relationship further. Chris was the first to pull his lips from yours.

 “Wait, wait,” he whispered pressing his forehead and nose to yours. “Are we finally doing this?”

 You nodded and tipped your tongue out to lick his bottom lip. “We are.” His lips were on yours again as he moaned on you. you pulled back and looked at him. “Wait, finally?”

 “I’ve been waiting for the right time, but it never seemed right, you were always with someone or going through a lot, I had begun to lose hope.”

 You smiled and kissed him again and moaned while rolling on top of him. your hips began rocking against him and he groaned and gripped your thigh where it creased.

 “Let’s go.” You pushed yourself up and pulled him up into you. his body collided with yours and nearly had you fall over. Chris held you firm against him and kissed you again. You touched his cold cheek and moved it to the back of his head where your fingers sunk into his wet hair.

 “Come on.”

 You tore your lips from his and pulled him through the yard back where you came from and to the car. You climbed in the backseat and pulled him in beside you. Once he was there you kissed him again and began peeling off your jacket. Once you were free of the garment you climbed on top of him and helped him out of his.

 “Wait.” Chris dug into his pocket found the car keys and pressed “start” turning on the car and with it the heat. Then he tossed it away and wrapped his arms around you. “Mmm.” His moan was soft, and it made you smile. You then began peeling off his knit sweater. Once you took it off you realized he had on another layer, a thermal shirt.

 “Damn, so many layers.”

 He snorted and began wresting with your sweater. The two of you were so anxious that your sweaters entangled with your arms which had the two of you bursting out into a fit of laughter. Finally, when the two of you were bare from your upper halves Chris touched your skin. His hands were so cold it had you flinching.

 “Sorry.”

 He quickly rubbed them together and blew into them hoping to warm them a little. When he touched you again they weren’t as icy. His hands gripped your hips and squeezed. You wasted no time and began unbuttoning his wet jeans. As you did Chris helped you undo yours. You lifted up pressing your head onto the top of the car. Your neck bent trying to get enough room for Chris to pull your jeans off of you. thanks to the wet material they sucked onto you even more than they had when you first put them on.

 “Let me.” You took control of peeling off your jeans and Chris took control of getting his off. After much struggle and giggles, the two of you were finally naked. Chris pulled you back onto his lap. You could feel his erection pressing between the two of you. you peeked down and bit your bottom lip then looked to him. He was also biting his bottom lip and his eyes were filled with so much desire.

 “Are you sure about this? There’s no turning back once we do this,” Chris questioned.

 You kissed him and nibbled his bottom lip. his groan was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. “I’m so sure.” You lifted up onto your knees, Chris rubbed the tip of his cock through your wet folds and you shivered. This was a line you were really about to cross, a line that you knew there was no coming back from. As if realizing it as well Chris hesitated and locked eyes with you.

 You were the one to sink down onto his thick, swollen length. Each and every inch that slipped in you was like Christmas morning, it felt so incredible you had no control over your body. Your palm slammed into the rear windshield and produced a handprint into the fogged glass. Chris grunted loudly and held you tight. Once he was fully sheathed you sat there on him taking it all in. You couldn’t have prepared yourself for what you were feeling, it was indescribable.

 “Y/N,” Chris panted.

You began ricking your hips on him with every intention of going slow to savor every sensation, but with the first chill that ran through you, slow was not happening. You quickly rode him already dying for a release. You’d wanted this so long you’d dreamed about it, envisioned him as you used your toys, and none of it was enough. Right now, right here this was doing it for you. You felt Chris bucking up into you to match the pace of your rocks and it added a new sensation. Your moans and pants echoed in the car and soon the sound of wet skin slapping together could be heard.

 “Fuck, you feel incredible. I had no idea,” Chris began. His hand squeezed your backside and you nearly lost it when he slammed up into you. your screech told him he was doing something right.

 “You like that?”

 “Right there Chris don’t stop!”

 He did it again and again and again until your eyes were rolling back into your head and one hand was braced against the top of the car as he fucked you and showed you just why it was always him.

 “Uhhh, I’m gonna come Y/N.” he ground his hips and it nudged deep inside of you and without warning, you came.

 “Fuck, yes, aaaah!”

 Right on your heels, Chris came a second later. The two of you were panting and moaning as you slowly came down from the bliss you were in your body stuck to his. Chris held you close and trailed his fingers up and down your spine.

 “Mmm, god. It’s always been you Y/N.” you smiled and looked down at him and felt his face. He was gorgeous and you loved everything about his face, even the small wrinkles that decorated his face were perfect.

 “Took you long enough to realize it.” Chris snorted and laughed planting his face in your chest. Then he kissed your skin and moaned.

 “Merry Christmas Y/N.”

 “Merry Christmas Chris.” You kissed him again then the two of you got dressed. You had dinner to go to.

 “Will we talk later?”

 You looked at Chris as he climbed out the car in his wet clothes. He pulled you to him and held you against him.

 “Yeah, we’ll talk.” He smiled and softly kissed your nose.

 “We should build a snowman more often.”

 You laughed and walked ahead with him behind you. Maybe building snowmen wasn’t that bad, especially if it ended with you having an incredible orgasm like that.

~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

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[chaos-family]

All credit to @janus-come-back-to-us for this story. Its og form is a bit hard to follow due to changing blogs so here it is in one piece! It’s from our dear lawyer’s perspective (in case you couldn’t tell) and the “you” is Orange. Enjoy!

Alright, it technically started on 11:47 of March 26th

That’s basically how the toys r us looked, at first, because it was a dark and stormy night.

I had just left from a courtroom, and was finally outside for the first time in months, when I suddenly heard screams… lots and lots of screams…

I turned around, and there was the ambassador of France, and yourself.

You had lit their pants on fire, calling them a liar.

The ambassador was, obviously, enraged. They had sent security after you, so many bulky men were running at a child.

You, being the spawn of chaos you are, was about to shoot porcupine spikes at a bunch of security men and the ambassador of France.

Me, being me, saw the ambassador sobbing, and thought this would be an amazing case to get me a ton of money.

Instead, she thought I was affiliated with you— probably because of the orange shirt I was wearing at the time— so she shrieked, “OH GOD NOT ANOTHER ONE!!”

You, also thinking I was in on it (for some reason?) grinned, and threw a larger porcupine towards me to use against everyone.

I caught the porcupine without injuring it or myself, but when I looked up, half of security was surrounding me.

I didn’t really know what to do. All I ever knew had to do with the law, and it was a prominent one to not attack security, nor the ambassador of France.

You didn’t seem to care. Infact, you poked your porcupine on some random spot (I never got a good enough look) and instantly hit several security guards square in the chest with spikes.

(They didn’t die, but I’m pretending they did for the dramatics of it all)

With all of those men on the ground, at your feet, the ambassador was shaking. The ones around me were frozen in fear, even as I gently placed my porcupine down.

You took one step towards us, and instantly, all of the guards fled. I would’ve been impressed if I wasn’t so confused.

The ambassador flicked her gaze between us both, her mouth opening and closing, like she was trying to say something.

You picked up the porcupine at my feet, and scratched a bit roughly on it. It’s skin and spikes came off like paint— because they literally were paint— revealing a zhu-zhu pet.

The ambassador slowly, shakily, raised a pointed finger at us. Her eyes were practically bugging out of her skull in terror. She screamed, “I’LL GET YOU BOTH FOR THIS!! YOU HEAR ME?? YOU’LL BE LOCKED AWAY FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE!!” Before running off with her security.

Naturally, I was terrified. I was getting accused for crimes by the ambassador of France, and didn’t know what to do.

You had just laughed good-heartidly, like this was something you did all the time. You show me a kind smile, before saying, “hey, wanna go to toys r us?”

I blinked, “what?”

“My family’s shopping over there.” You shrugged, as if you didn’t just knock out several security guards and burn the ambassador of France’s pants. And possibly her legs. “So? Wanna come along?”

I gave a puff of a laugh, y’know, the way you do when you’re feeling like you’re in a fever dream. “I— I guess??”

We arrived to find the entire family shopping. I didn’t recognize anyone— obviously, I didn’t know anyone at the time— but you dragged me over to the zhu-zhu pet section.

I looked around in awe. Some of these sets didn’t look like toys, they looked like weapons. There were armories, training sets (of various types!!), blacksmith sets, it was like a medieval knight paridise. But for zhu-zhu pets.

You had looked around, trying to find something, I suppose, but my head was reeling from your earlier stunt with the ambassador of France.

My gaze travelled to a ceiling corner, as I watched the security camera zero-in on us. The lens expanded, the flickering red light sped up, and over the store’s microphones, I heard,

“We have a code orange with an accomplice, I repeat, a code orange with an accomplice. This is not a drill.”

Followed shortly after by an exasperated, suffering sigh, and a loud “ORANGE WHAT DID I SAY??” From across the store.

Geoffrey the giraffe came out of the back door, with several weapons on hand. But we didn’t see those for awhile, for he had decided to arrive in a tank.

You, somehow, threw a zhu-zhu pet into the middle of the tank-shooter-thing-that-I’m-too-lazy-too-look-up-the-name-for, before bolting out of that section specifically. I followed you, not wanting to get exploded by Geoffrey.

We rounded a corner to find parent one, their arms crossed across their chest, giving the most parental look I could ever imagine. “Orange.” They said, lowly, “what—“

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault!!” You interrupted, as if we hadn’t ran across an entire store after burning the ambassador of France’s— “I was showing my new buddy around!! So obviously, I had to show ‘em the zhu-zhu pets too!!”

Parent one looked at me then, which must’ve been the least not-guilty I’ve ever looked. Covered in rain from the storm, still trying to catch my breath from running across the store, still frazzled from the ambassador of France moment, I wasn’t exactly the pinnicle of neat.

So, very dignified, and totally not weakly, I gave a small wave, muttering, “hi?”

Parent one looked at me, unimpressed, letting out another suffering sigh. “How much did she offer?”

I blinked, “huh?”

“How much?” Parent one releated, opening their wallet, “you’re not going to actually get whatever amount they promised, but I can give you $20 or something, for the trouble.”

“I didn’t offer anything!” You said, very smugly, “they joined in the fun!!”

“Actually, I—“ I began, but Geoffrey had caught up to us. Parent one merely waved at the giraffe in the tank, but you had looked ready to run.

Quickly, little lego men had left the tank, scattering lego’s all over the store’s floor. It would’ve been a painful nightmare to escape now, unless you had shoes on.

Unfortunately, neither of us did. We dropped them off at the entrance earlier, since they were soaked in mud and rainwater.

“You can’t escape now, Orange.” Geoffrey said, aiming their clogged shooter-thing right at us. My eyes widened at the sight, especially when the lego men began to build their own canon with their spare legos, “this is the last time I allow you to rob me of my zhu-zhu pets.”

 The canon was loading up, about to fire at any minute. My breathing quickened, panic coursing through me. Your glare at the giraffe only hardened, like you wanted him to try and stop you. Parent one remained exasperated, but calmly moved out of the way (a perk of having shoes).

The only reason why we weren’t blasted into smithereens, was due to a cryptid behind the tank, slowly rising in all of her cryptic glory. My jaw dropped at the sight, but you only grinned.

Geoffrey‘s tank was engulfed in shadows, and I never figured out what happened to it. All you said was “quickly, make shoes out of the legos!!” Which is what we did, before running out of that area of the store.

Unfortunately, Geoffrey was prepared. Around another corner, La La Loopsey dolls had begun to surround us, with needles and string in their hands. Very reminiscent of Coraline. You looked unfazed, even as they began to approach us with doll-like chants.

“What the hell do we do now??” I painted out, as you looked around for an exit.

“More like, what the hell did you do??” Came a voice. Turning around, we saw the same cryptid from earlier, spitting out a chunk of the tank, like it was a wad of bubblegum.

You grinned, “oh, not much. Just activated a code orange, y’know how it goes.”

“I most certainly do not.” She answered, glaring at you. It didn’t have the same tiredness from parent one, or the malice from Geoffrey. Rather, it looked... playful? “You left me out of the chaos. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such betrayal.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You said, rolling your eyes. “I got a bit preoccupied.”

“Can you two stop bickering so that we don’t get sewn to death??” I said shrilly, as the La La Loopseys started drawing their planned sewing lines onto our legs.

 Anyways, both you and the cryptid finally realized the La La Loopsey’s intentions. You kicked a few away, but double the ones you kicked just took over.

“Quick, what’s your species??” The cryptid asked me.

“Uh— human?? What is going—”

“Damn, so nothing supernatural.” She said, letting out a huff.

“Quick, give me another doll brand!” You said, so the cryptid left (she was the only one not trapped) to find another doll.

I didn’t really have time to question the purpose of that, since you and I were trying to kick away the onslaught of La La Loopsey’s. “Seriously, what is happening??” I asked, exhausted.

“A typical Tuesday.” You answered, “though I’ll admit, these guys normally aren’t so persistent.”

“So this has happened before??” I turned towards you, flabbergasted, “do you have any idea how many laws we’ve broken?? We’ve assaulted security, and the ambassador of France, you committed arson with that stunt too. We’ve trespassed and area you’re clearly not allowed in. We’re committing property damage, currently—“

“Oh don’t be such a worry wart.” You said, flinging a doll across the aisle, “I just use monopoly money to bail out of jail.”

Monopoly... money...

I didn’t know what happened next (later, after the incident, parent one had filled me in), because I froze from the mention of the horrid money I was so used to losing from in court. You didn’t realize what had happened, and the cryptid hadn’t arrive.

The La La Loopseys— and in turn, Geoffery— were winning.

All seemed lost, for awhile.

You had been kicking La La Loopseys away from yourself and me, and for about 10 minutes, you had begun to worry.

The cryptid came awhile later, throwing a limited edition Barbie doll towards you. “Geoffery was prepared,” she said, “but luckily, I found her in the backroom.”

You wasted little time, quickly ripping the box open, displaying Barbie in all of her glory. The La La Loopsey dolls hissed, quickly losing interest in you and me, as they practically ripped the Barbie from your hands to assault her instead.

She will be missed.

You and the cryptid had to drag me away from the scene, finding a brief hideout in the backroom. “What happened to them?” The cryptid asked, flicking my forehead.

“I dunno, I just said something about Monopoly money, and—“

“YOU’RE NOT GETTING OUT OF THIS COURTROOM JEFFERSON!!” I hollared, stunning you and the cryptid for a moment. Apparently, the Monopoly money mentioned had made me automatically think I was in a courtroom, and my brain had been trying to calculate the amount of crimes I had to go against (that, and apparently I thought I was arguing against Thomas Jefferson, for some reason). I panted, trying to catch my bearings as you and the cryptid just stared silently for a moment. “... we aren’t in court, huh?”

“Not unless you count toys r us to be a courtroom.” You replied, “seriously, are you good?”

“No, I’m Green.” I answered, “a lawyer, in theory. Not one that typically gets chased down by giraffes and dolls.”

“So not a legitimate lawyer?”

“Shut up.”

Briefly, I learned who you, and the cryptid— Cerse, apparently— were, and that took enough time for some of the boxes to start opening from the inside.

Crawling out of them, at first, was a line up of toy story characters, which wasn’t so bad. But then the slinkies got out, and quickly used their dog heads and butts to wrap around all three of us.

Try as we may, escaping was futile.

Geoffery came around the corner, slowly clapping his hands. “Wow, and here I thought you might actually get away. But, as chaotic as you think you are,” he drawled, leaning in close towards us, “I’m always a step ahead.”

“I thought you took care of him.” You hissed at Cerse, once Geoffery leaned away.

“I did.” Cerse insisted, but it didn’t matter now. Geoffery snapped his hands (somehow?? How did that work he’s a giraffe??), and several buzz lightyears had turned on their wings, ready for the command to onslaught us.

“I’m rather impressed, y’know.” He said, turning around like some cartoon villain. “I never thought you’d keep trying, after coming here the 34th time.”

You snickered. I never learned what had happened the 34th time.

“But now,” he continued, turning his head a bit to study all three of us, “I have you right where I want you. And your little friends too. If you won’t pay in legitimate money, then I’ll make you pay for damages with your life.”

The slinkies tightened their grip. I thought all hope was lost.

Until, of course, I heard a car coming towards us.

Everything that happened next was a whirl of colors. The chaos family had stolen a car— somehow fitting everyone inside— with both parents in the front seat. Parent two shot at the slinkies with a nerf gun, making them relinquish their hold. You and Cerse stood quickly, running for the car, and I did my best to follow.

Geoffery was faster, however. He grabbed my arm before I could reach y’all, and held a surprisingly firm grip for a giraffe. “NOBODY MOVE!!” He shouted, several buzz lightyears flying behind him, “OR I SEND THE SPACE TROOPS AFTER EVERYONE.”

You looked between me and Geoffrey, and in a split-second decision, threw a box of matches at us, followed by a lit match. Geoffery shrieked in fear, quickly letting me go so that he could escape. I ran as far away from the flames as I could, hopping ontop of the chaos family’s car, before Parent one took a sharp turn, making a dash for the entrance of the store.

“You’re grounded, by the way.” They said, no room for argument in their voice.

You huffed, grumbling, “I figured.”

Outside, we were barely out of the previous— now destroyed— front door, before French military surrounded us. Helicopters, tanks, ground troops, you name it— and infront of all of them, stood the ambassador, her arms crossed.

“Relinquish the Drama Duo.” She said, loudly but calmly, “and nobody gets hurt.”

Slowly, the entire car turned around to look at us, a shared look of “what did you do” on their faces.

I know that says US but pretend it says French.

“What.” Parent one began, “did you two. Do.”

“I swear I didn’t have anything to do with this.” I said, raising my hands up defensively. No one seemed convinced, but at least they were more skeptical of you than me.

“I wasn’t trying to start anything.” You said, crossing your arms, staring at the ground. “Honest. I was just at the convenience store earlier, buying matches— y’know how it is. And when I went to pay for them, the cashier said Monopoly money didn’t count. I called her a liar. She called me a phony. Long story short, I found her tonight when she was walking to her car with a bunch of men. And I lit her pants on fire. I didn’t think she was the ambassador of France.”

“It doesn’t matter who you think they are,” Parent one said, heaving yet another sigh, “you shouldn’t light anyone’s pants on fire.”

“She deserved it.” You grumbled, but didn’t try to argue further.

“And what do you have to do with this?” I blinked, not expecting the sudden attention.

“I swear, I was just getting home from work.” I said, unsure of how to handle Parent one’s calculating gaze, “I only decided to enter the scene because I thought I could make a ton of money as the ambassador to France’s lawyer. I didn’t think this would happen.”

Parent two hummed, “I guess that makes sense. You didn’t seem like the regular accomplice Orange has.” They mused.

“They’re all the same at this point.” Parent one muttered, before turning around to face the ambassador again, “but for now, you’re all gonna want to cover your ears.”

The whole car did as told, with Parent two putting on large earmuffs over Parent one’s head. Parent one inserted a CD into the radio, and turned it all the way up. I didn’t read the disc, but I didn’t have to.

Not when a loud voice rang out, followed by, “the fitness gram pacer test—“

The military men all began to vibrate, as if they were holding themselves back. Several of them left their vehicles, unable to operate them at the time.

The ambassador, slowly, fearfully, turned around she looked terrified, as her top general muttered. “Ma’am... we can’t... we can’t resist...”

“You must.” Shs seethed, but they could barely hear her, “or you’re all fired.”

That made them try to repress their calling more, but it didn’t last for long. As soon as the signal rang, and the music for the first round started, the military ran. They had to prove themselves to be more physically competent than their fellow soldiers. It was a calling in their blood, one that they could never truly resist.

The ambassador shrieked in rage, but it was muffled by Parent one raising the volume. “Sorry, what was that?” They asked, deadpan, as the ambassador’s gaze hardened on our car.

“I’ll— I’ll get you.” She sneered, before shouting, “I’LL GET ALL OF YOU!! EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU WILL BE LOCKED AWAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS!!”

Talk about a sore loser.

Parent one wasted no more time, at that point. They sped the car up, driving away as soon as Parent two chucked the— somehow working— stereo out the window, keeping the entire military distracted.

“Where are we going??” I asked, barely able to hold on to the roof of the car.

“Home.” Parent one said, “or at least, our current home. Probably gonna have to move out soon ‘cause of Orange.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad.” You insisted, even as parent one gave you with an unimpressed look.

“Sure.”

We arrived to the house after a very long drive, where I learned who the rest of the family was. Granted, I couldn’t really keep track of everyone at the time— since I was reeling from everything that had happened that night— but the calmer change of pace was a nice shift from being surrounded by the military.

We arrived at the house, where everyone unloaded their bags and went inside. I only went in because, lets be honest, all of that left me in desperate need of a shower, but I was stopped by the Parent duo— River and Cenn— before I could borrow their bathroom.

“So...” River— Parent two began, “you’re a lawyer?”

“In theory,” I answered, since I had shared a bit about myself during the car ride, “I do mostly criminal cases as the prosecutor. Why, is there any case you’d like me to check out?”

They shared a look with unspoken words, and I couldn’t really tell what they were saying. They turned back to me after a moment, with Cenn— Parent one— saying something, “well, have you tried... defending a criminal, perhaps?”

I blinked owlishly at that, “uh, not really, but I’m trained enough for it.”

Cenn nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer, “good. We’ve been looking for someone to help us keep our kids out of jail, but so far—“

“Woah woah woah—“ I cut them off, wringing my wrists, “listen, i appreciate your hospitality and help tonight, but there is no way I can keep these guys,” I paused, motioning towards all the kids to emphasize my point, “guiltless!! Especially if tonight is just a ‘typical Tuesday.’”

River sighed, a bit defeated, but didn’t seem to give up, “look, we wouldn’t persist if we weren’t desperate. At this point, buying monopoly playsets has been more expensive than what court fees would be. Just— start with one kid? If all of them is too much?”

I hesitated. On one hand, trying to make them all seem innocent would be a waste of time, since any judge could look at their track record and immediately have a verdict. But, on the other, the amount of money I could make...

I sighed, my shoulders sagging, “alright, who am I defending first?”

They both huffed a breath of relief, with Cenn turning, calling out “Orange? Could you come here for a moment.”

And that, everyone who decided to stick around, is the toys r us incident (and coincidentally, the night I became Orange’s lawyer). I’m not getting into the aftermath— because I have irl stuff to do— but yeah

note from C: this is a little off according to the master timeline but who cares

[peachnewt]

Midnight Snack - Playing House

Fluff to the max. Intimate times between two men insinuated but not graphically described in text.  Deep kissing is present.  Skip between the &&& if you prefer to not read it.  The Getting In Deep series and it’s short stories are my own creation.  Do not steal or alter.  

 Papers, magazine cutouts, and equations sat in piles on Will's desk.  Will, headless of the slippery magazine paper that threatened to kiss the ground, kept taking notes from his screen.  

When Reese arrived, he was surprised to see Will at work before everyone else in Main Tech.  

"Getting a head start on a case?" asked Reese.  

"No."  Will tabbed his screen and frowned.  "I'm helping Louis find a house."  

"Really?" Reese wondered how far Louis and Will had gotten in their relationship.  "Why would he want to move?"  

Reese walked around Will's desk to look at the screen.  

When house hunting, most people imagine realtors, property tax, curb appeal, square footage, and zoning issues.  The average challenges one would find on HGTV shows.  Reese expected to see Zillow listings, or Homefinder.  He hadn't expected Barbie's Malibu Dream Home from Toys-R-Us.  

Reese blinked, wondering if the morning caffeine had yet to kick in.  "A dollhouse?"  

Louis walked into Main Tech with two mugs.  "Yeah, because everything I found is, in Will's words, "dinky plastic trash"."

"They don't even have it proportioned right.  I did the calculations," said Will, scrolling through the preview images of other child- sized dollhouse.  "The bathtub is right next to the door, who does that?"  

"Those things are meant for playing with, not living in," said Louis, nursing his second cup of coffee and handing Will his tea.  They had spent the last half hour descending into a research spiral of toy sites looking at houses and miniatures.  Louis began thinking this was actually worse than real house hunting.  

"I have a civil engineering degree, I'm allowed to be offended," said Will.

"You would be offended at the construction of a gingerbread house."  

"Those are for decoration and eating.  It's not the same thing."  

"One moment.  I feel like I need a little bit of clarification."  Reese struggled to catch up with the train of thought Louis and Will had gotten on, apparently leaving him behind at the station.  "Louis, why are you in the market for a dollhouse?"  

Louis sat and spun his chair to catch the slipping pile of magazine clippings.  "Because some nights I'm sleeping in a shoebox on Rachel's desk."  

There had been nights when Louis was too exhausted to switch back from his tiny sized self and had to sleep in Rachel's office.  His "room" consisted of a shoe box with a tiny flat pillow for a mattress, a linen square for a blanket, a charging stand for his large sized phone, and a rectangle hole for a door.  

"I feel like a kitten awaiting adoption by the side of the road," Louis continued.

"I see.  I wouldn't mind sleeping in a shoebox on Rachel's desk," said Reese, a dreamy look in his eyes.  

Beni, carrying a dozen doughnuts in one hand and a RockStar energy drink in the other, paused as she entered Main Tech.  "I think I need context."  

***

Ten minutes later, Beni had been pulled into the communal craze of looking up tiny dollhouses.  They pulled up everything from antique houses made in the 1950s, to Lego replicas of Hogwarts.  By a stroke of a keyword during Beni's search, she hit the mother load with DIY Dollhouse kits sold on specialty hobby sites.  They ranged from Modern loft apartments, to Chinese homesteads complete with a throne room.  They even had miniature cafe's with tiny pastries.  Each dollhouse listing came with a video on how to construct it.  Of course, with a specialty hobby, it came with a specialty price.  

"It's a friggin' bed," said Louis, gesturing to the miniature furniture on the screen. "How hard is it to make a proper bed for at 1/24th scale that isn't going to cost a fortune?  That's what... eight popsicle sticks?"  

"If you want quality at that size then you are going to pay what its' worth," said Reese. "What is more expensive, a Rolex, or a bedside clock?"  

Will pulled up a video with a house similar to a few of the magazine cutouts.  "Most of these do-it-yourself kits use either hot glue or E6000.  Not keen on having a building kept together with hot glue."  

Louis grunted, mesmerized by large hands setting up a tiny living room.  "Are we spiraling again?"

"Yes, but it's a very satisfying spiral."  

Louis, Will, Reese, and Beni gathered around one screen, tallying the pros and cons of certain designs, and pulling up more DIY dollhouse videos.  

When Cetz arrived at Main Tech, he saw four of his agents picking out dollhouses.  

Cetz felt a headache coming on.  "Know what.  I don't need context.  Meeting in ten."  

**

Eventually Louis picked a DIY kit for a cabin that put him back sixty dollars.  It arrived a week later and Louis set up shop in a spare workroom at the Watch.  He proceeded to burn his hand with a hot glue gun while trying to assemble the walls.  Will approached with ice, tweezers, and a small tube of craft glue.  They finished the small dwelling in an afternoon.  

Half of the tiny furnishings, flower pots, pictures, cute figurines of boats, never made it into the cabin.  They were pasted together for posterity to say it had been finished, and they left in a heap by the dwelling.  None of the furniture went where it was supposed to; Louis didn't trust the stairs to hold if he walked up to the second floor.  The bed ,made of thin wood, looked better than the tiny pillow in his shoebox.  If nothing else, it looked more like a bed.  It looked like a dwelling meant for a human. It even had lighting he could turn off and on with a switch at the bottom of the display platform.  

Louis stood back from the cabin and cracked his back.  His fingers had nearly been glued together while applying wallpaper, and his eyes ached having to look through a magnifying glass.  Will clicked on the light to the house.  They looked proud of their creation, showing it off to Beni, Reese, and Rachel when they came by.  

"It's a good starter home," said Rachel, handing Louis a bag of coffee grounds with a bow taped on it. "Happy housewarming."  

Louis grinned.  The cabin itself was slightly wider than his shoebox but twice as tall, and the platform it stood on was as big as a desk blotter.

"I want one," said Beni, flipping the switch on and off.  

"Make your own," said Louis.  

"I will!" said Beni, a spark of competition in her eyes.  "I'll make one so nice you'll want to sleep there instead!"  

Reese, enticed leaned over. "Care to make a wager?"

The next day, Beni and Reese also ordered DIY dollhouses.  

Louis vowed to never set foot in any of their deathtraps.  

Will vowed to make sure neither of them burned their fingers or used adhesives that could cause respiratory distress.  

While Beni and Reese awaited their kits, Louis ended up exhausted after a long day of testing, and unable to switch back to normal size.  The first night in his new, self-made home.  Rachel left him on her desk, the shoebox on one side, and his cabin on the other.  Louis stumbled wearily to the cabin.  When he laid down on the bed he immediately regretted the thin bit of padding he had mistaken for a mattress.  It had looked fluffy enough when he had glued the stuffing down.  He dragged the cheap pillow out of the shoebox and into the cabin.

Will found him the next morning splayed akimbo on the cushion, wrapped up in the thin "bed spread" like a croissant.  

"Bed not work?"

"I could feel beads of dried glue under the mattress."  Louis snuggled tighter into the pillow until Will coaxed him onto his palm and into the lab to "grow up".  

Louis had been so miserable with the construction of his tiny bed, he actually looked forward to Beni and Reese's dollhouses

The two kits arrived and Will made sure the construction was a surprise to Louis, warding him from the workshop as Beni and Reese unpacked their kits with child-like glee.  

They wondered if the two former thieves ever got something like a dollhouse in their younger years.

Instead of cranking out the houses in an afternoon, Beni and Reese took half hours off between shifts to work on them.  Both seemed to find contentment in their distraction.  After a week, they were finished.  

Reese had constructed a gothic themed Victorian home with a tiny staircase hidden behind a bookshelf full of miniature books.  Several windows were painted to look like stained glass.  And the bed was a four-poster with a canopy.  His pride had been renovating the kitchen area to have a tiny fridge that actually worked and held tiny shots of pudding he had made himself. And on one wall he had put up a tiny grandfather clock, made with a working clock face.  

"Somebody likes their gothic," said Will as he squinted to see inside the hidden staircase. "Good detail."  

"Classic taste is good taste."  

Beni had gone modern with a split level house.  White on silver furnishings with touches of neon purple and one of the accent walls for a workout room consisted of an entire mirror.  The bed was covered in multiple pillows, each a shade of gray or white.  Her pride was adding a slide from the top level to the bottom, the landing cushioned with a layer of cotton balls.  

"Very playful," said Will.  

"Got most of the style stuff from a Home & Garden magazine.  But who wouldn't want a slide in their house?"  

Louis shrunk, bypassed all the fancy additions and special furnishings, shooting like a tired arrow towards the beds.  First the canopy bed, then a gray bed with all the pillows.  

Louis groaned in defeat. "It's still not comfortable enough."  

However, he did try the slide, the hidden stairs, and the pudding in the tiny fridge.  Beni and Reese then made Louis promise to shrink them so they could experience the houses themselves.  

Will eyed the beds and the shoebox a warm glow coming to his eyes.  It had been a while since he had done a construction project.  

***

The magazine clippings came back out; Will organizing different furniture pieces and photos from Architectural Digest.  Over the next month, between date entry and retrieval missions, Will peppered Louis with random questions.  

"Dark stain or light?"  

"Oriental, log cabin, industrial, modern?"  

"How much do you cook verses eating out?"  

"Do you like gardens?"  

"How about koi ponds?"  

"Silk sheets or cotton?"  

"How do you not know the answer to that?" said Louis, setting aside another patent.  "Cotton."  

"I mean if you won the lottery and could afford anything, silk or cotton?" said Will.

"Still cotton."

It wasn't until Will pulled Louis over to look at a blueprint that he caught on to what Will had been doing.  

"Are you designing a custom dollhouse for me?"  

"Kinda.  I'm not an architect, but I thought I could make you something more than a shoebox or a DIY kit."  A light blush bloomed on Will's neck.  "I want your input on it.  You'd be sleeping there after all."  

"All I want is a better bed," said Louis.  "I respect that little pillow, it's gotten me through some rough nights, but I want a real bed."  

From the blueprint it looked similar to some of the custom DIY dollhouses the three of them had constructed.  Everything from the steps to the sofa had equations measuring out its diameters so it would match Louis' stature when he shrunk.  Multiple chambers, the front wall of the house on a hinge so the insides could be exposed or not, a set of stairs, all on a platform with an outside space with a...

"Is that a gazebo?"  

"Yep," said Will. "Do you want a pond or a pool?"  

"It's a place for me to sleep when I have to stay the night, fanboy," insisted Louis.  "You don't have to go all out with this.  I just wanted something better than a shoebox."  

"But I want to."  

Louis smirked. "Feeling a little competitive after Beni and Reese made their own houses?"  

"...little bit."

"I thought so." Louis brushed his lips to the side of Will's mouth, leaving a coffee ghost of a kiss, and grabbed Will's empty mug. They both needed refills.  "Have at it, fanboy.  Surprise me.  Just... no koi pond.  Especially no koi; those suckers can get huge."  

***

A month later Will led a blindfolded Louis to Rachel's office.

"Are we there yet?" asked Louis.  

"One moment." Will let go of Louis' hands with a squeeze.  "Stay here.  No peeking."  

Louis heard the flicking of switches and the opening of a door.  

"Okay, you can see."  

Louis peeled off the blindfold.  Rachel's office was dimmed, the majority of the light coming from another dollhouse. His jaw dropped.  It spanned half of Rachel's desk.  The house was modern, mostly white trimmed in dark blue and splashes of red.  Like most of the DIY dollhouses the insides were exposed for "play", but this one had a full roof and a panel that acted like a door to the whole front half of the house.  However, the house only took up a third of the platform.  

Behind the house stood a stately garden of green moss, flat pebble paths, and a gazebo overlooking the rise of real seedlings from a small herb patch.  In the center of the garden rose a bonsai strung up with tiny lights like a Christmas tree, and a swing.  The bonsai stood small in comparison to a regular sized shrub, but to an almost three inch human, it would look like a grand tree.  

Louis came closer, leaning in to see the tiny details of the dollhouse.  "How in the world did you do something like this?"  

"Civil engineer, remember.  A lot of my college projects were making models of infrastructure.  That and a lot of model kits."  

Louis motioned to the hinged front of the house.  "Can I...?"  

"I made it for you, yes!"  

Louis opened the front of the house to an open floor plan, tiny lighting, bits of shiny tile, and dark stained furniture.  The DIY houses had similar plans, but this one seemed polished, more real than play.

"Cetz and Reese helped assemble most of the house," said Will.  "Beni picked out the bonsai."  

"The furniture." Louis gently picked up the coffee table from the living room.  I weighed heavy in his hand, not balsa wood or cardboard.  "Those aren't popsicle sticks.  How the hell did you...?"  

"I have some crafty friends on the con circuit that were willing to do some detailed commissions. A lot of it was 3D printed, but the finer furniture was done by hand.  Not a hot-glue stick in sight."  

Louis set down the coffee table and took a closer look at the kitchen.  "Those drawers actually pull out?"  

"Yep."  

"The sink... holy shit there is actual water."  

"Yeah, actual plumbing. We'll have to do the dishes by hand, no dishwasher that size.  But there is water in the kitchen area and the bathroom, both connected to a gallon water heater under the desk."  

Louis noted the "we".  One of them washing while the other dried with the tiny towels and the tiny drying rack. A domestic image he never thought he'd get in real life.  Well, really tiny life.  

"Reese installed his patented snack fridge, I see," said Louis.

"Snacks are a must," said Will.  "Fully stocked with bits of cheese, chocolate, pudding, and a slice of pepperoni. Eating like borrowers."

"Every window has curtains."

"And blackout curtains if you need some dark space."

A refuge, Louis realized.  If I need space or time and I'm stuck, I don't have to feel like a lab rat.  

"That's actual leather on that couch," said Louis, dragging his mind back to the house tour.

"I could afford a quarter yard of real leather."  

Louis saw two charging ports for phones set into the wall so the screens could act as a television. He could imagine the movie nights. One giant kernel of popped corn between them.  

"The doors actually shut and lock?" asked Louis.

"Tiny magnets in the door and door frame.  Also..." Will pointed to where the front of the house closed, hiding the view of the inside.  "Push a latch here, and the whole front of the house will lock from the inside so you can have privacy."  

Louis reopened the front of the house.  He followed the line of sight from the living room, up the stairs, to the bedroom. Dark wood furnishings and soft gray upholstery.  The bed looked neat and tidy as a stuffed envelope, lined in silvery blue and deep red pillows.  

"I made the bed."

"Like you folded the sheets or you made the bed and bed frame personally?"  He had to ask because it seemed Will had been willing to spin his own thread for the sheets.

"Both.  Took a couple of live video tutorials for the frame. No craft glue, or double sided tape. Half a drop of wood paste, tiny dove joints, and teeny finishing nails.  I know you said cotton, but I got denier microfiber silk fabric for the sheets so the thickness is comparable what you would have at normal size."

Louis pressed a finger down on the tiny bed, eyeballing the measurements.  "California King?"  

"Yep."  Will skipped over the fact he had carved by hand a bed definitely made for two.  "Cut the mattress out of memory foam."  

Louis examined the rest of the bedroom.  Interesting that Will had included a washbasin and washcloths when there was an en suite bathroom.  No closet or wardrobe, instead an empty trunk lay at the foot of the bed.  Louis wouldn't need changes of clothing since whatever he shrunk with would have to grow back with him.  The lamp on the bedside table gave a golden glow.  When he opened the bedside cabinet he found a few extra amenities that made the back of his neck heat up.  

Will's bashful look said it all.  

"Wow." Louis cleared his throat, trying to draw his mind away from the bedroom.  The gesture of it all struck him deep.  Will and he still lived in separate places.  Will had made a place for them to be together.  A home that belong to them, not one or the other.  

Okay.  No tears.  Suck it up.

Louis sniffed, needing a distraction.  "So, random question, what was the most expensive thing in this whole house?"

"Well, parts of the electrical plan and plumbing nearly cost me my patience."  

Louis snickered, pulling Will in by the back of the head to kiss his temple.  "Your poor brain.  Let me guess, the leather couch?"  

"Nope.  Made from scraps.  Very cheap."  

"The tiny fridge?"

"The way Reese made it, no.  It cost me a dozen maple bacon doughnuts and a cheesecake."  

"The bonsai. Gotta be the bonsai."  

"Actually the bonsai was the second most expensive thing.  But Beni did some good bargaining."  

"Really?"  

"Mh hm."  

"What was the most expensive then?"

Will touched the fine sheet on the bed.  

"The bed?" said Louis.

"The sheets," Will clarified.  

"How are a tiny set of sheets that expensive?!"

"When you include express shipping from Japan."  

"Fanboy!"  

"You said the bed was the most important thing, so I made sure it got the right stuff!"  

Laughter took over when Louis refused tears.  He hugged Will closed, his nose brushing into hair that still smelled of soap.  

"C'mere.  Thank you.  I can't believe you went so far for this."  

"I wanted to," murmured Will into Louis' neck, leaving a soft touch of breath.  

Will had wanted to give him a home.  Louis wanted Will to know he was home.

&&&

It sent a shiver down Louis' back, making his belly flutter.  He leaned back on the desk until he sat on it, his thigh close to pushing off a pencil box.  Then he pulled Will by the hips until he stood between his legs, chest to chest. Louis curled his head under Will's neck. Will's hands draped across Louis shoulders as if a buoy to a drowning man and breathed in deep.  Warmth surrounded them like an atmosphere growing around a new planet.  

Louis looked over at the house and smirked.  He wouldn't mind spending the night, if he had company.  

"Wanna test out the bed?" said Louis, pulling back.  "Make sure it's up to your standards?"  

"You mean you want to see if you can wreck the bed," said Will.  

"I know I can wreck you on the bed; if I can wreck the bed with you, bonus."  

The blush at Will's neck charged over the hinge of his jaw and conquered his cheeks and nose.  Louis knew by experience the blushing army had already conquered collarbones and sternum.  He planted the final flag of victory by drawing Will's head down for a kiss, deeper than the rest.  Will relaxed into his embrace like a puddle needing earth to sink into.  Their chests expanded wider with each breath, trying to catch each other in the air around them to pull into their lungs and keep.

Will pulled back, nipping Louis' jaw.  "I dropped the bed, twice."  Nip.  "Survived both times."  A kiss on the chin.  "I'd like to see you achieve what my clumsiness and gravity could not."  

"That a challenge?"  Louis bent his head down, pressed his lips around Will's Adam's apple, and sucked.  

Will moaned, his voice buzzing against Louis' mouth.  Louis pulled Will in by the shoulders as he leaned back further onto the desk, and then focused on the light.  In a breathless flash, they both sat on the desk, just short of three inches tall. After a moment to orient themselves, and calm down enough to get to their feet, they both ran to the door of the dollhouse.  

 The bed did not break. Though they tried.  

 They collapsed under sheets of light silk, catching their breath as sweat cooled on their aching bodies. Will had been wise to include a wash basin, thought Louis.  He didn't want to go all the way to the bathroom for a washcloth.  

&&&

Will tucked himself into the curve of Louis' body.  "So... home sweet home?"  

"Maybe." Louis leaned down and kissed right below Will's sternum, tasting heated skin.  "I've got a home here too."  

Oh, that blush would not go away for hours now.  

"Yeah, you do," whispered Will.  

A well deserved exhaustion overtook them.  

 Louis woke before Will. Making sure Will kept dreaming, Louis scurried out of the house and over to the side of Rachel's desk that still held the cabin.  To the side lay the pile of extra frills that had come with the DIY house; bits of potted plants, fake books and posters.  He picked up a piece of thick printed cardstock about the size of a large postage stamp, and carried it back to Will's house.  It had been a miscellaneous bit of inspirational word art one could find in any furnishing or poster aisle at a craft shop, but it seemed very appropriate.

"Where there's a will, there's a way".

Louis set it by the front door of the new house and then went back in.  He would see if Reese had put anything in the tiny fridge that could help construct a breakfast in bed.

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

 If you enjoyed this short, consider buying me a ko-fi!  

[mathematicianadda]

Mathematical play with young children

I was recently asked for my advice for encouraging maths play with a young child. I should start by saying I’m not qualified to talk about this with authority – I teach mathematics, but to undergraduates. The closest thing I have to relevant experience is playing with my son who is nearly 5, so I can share a little about that.

So how do we encourage mathematical play with my son? I don’t mean to get all philosophical, but what is maths really? Many people think maths is numbers and counting, which is true of course. Maths is built on arithmetic like literature is built on spelling and handwriting, so it’s important but not the whole picture. Maths is also patterns and shapes, structure and order, classifying objects and their properties, … and it can be very playful.

Through nursery and his start at school, I’ve never been concerned with teaching my son things he will later learn at school, because he’s a bright boy and already knowing what the teachers are covering is a recipe for switching off his love of learning and making him misbehave in class. But I think there is a lot that can be done to strengthen his deep understanding in ways that won’t interfere when he comes to learn times tables, or whatever. (There are some caveats here: I’m not totally sure what is on the National Curriculum, and he sometimes plays his own way into curricular topics, as we’ll see with multiplication later.)

I have never done anything very structured. Mostly we played, often following his lead, somewhat inspired by things I’d seen on the #tmwyk hashtag on Twitter. Here I’ll waffle through a few suggestions.

First and foremost: watch Numberblocks on CBeebies. We weren’t big on TV or screens when he was young, and still aren’t really, but Numberblocks is amazing. You must start with episode 1, which introduces number 1, and go from there. Episodes are only 5 minutes long. It quickly introduces numbers 2-5 and then has adventures with them, then 6-10, and so on. It taught him loads about numbers and also gave him a context to understand arithmetic operations. Later episodes gave him a serious interest in big numbers. I suggest you don’t rush through, rewatch earlier episodes if needed before moving on, and definitely watch together and try to talk about the ideas. Look for the numbers around the house. When an episode introduces 3, ask how many groups of 3 things you can find around the house, etc.

I think the best thing we did for him was buy a set of 100 Mathlink Cubes. These are coloured cubes which join together. He used to spend a lot of time playing with these on his own and with us, making the Numberblocks characters and taking them on adventures, counting them, making colour patterns with them, making shapes with them. Then Katie Steckles kindly bought us Kyle D. Evans’ book Here Come The Numbers, which goes into how to arrange numbers in squares and rectangles, and raises the issue of numbers that can’t be arranged like this, even naming these primes. This gave him a really effective way to understand how numbers work. I think it’s good he has developed his own understanding of how blocks can be arranged into squares and rectangles, even if he doesn’t know he’s multiplying. It also gave him marvellous insight into spacial awareness and symmetry by building shapes, copying shapes I’d built, etc. He still uses the blocks, mostly to build space ships for his other toys to have adventures in – always with a lovely pattern of colours and a symmetric shape. He also plays with magnetic tiles, pattern blocks and Cuisenaire rods, but the Mathlink cubes came first.

There’s a concept called number sense, which is an understanding of how numbers work, their order, magnitude, etc. which can be helped by counting objects, asking which pile of objects has more in it, counting things in groups, etc. Sometimes we’d count number blocks, or match other objects to number blocks, or just count objects directly. How many socks does he have? How many teddies are coming to the tea party? etc.

It’s good to practice counting by chanting numbers in order, using books (although books always stop at 10 and I’d always count to 12 because time uses 12 and I don’t want him to have an uncertainty about 11 and 12) or counting objects, and trying to learn that you tap the objects as you count them in 1-to-1 correspondence. He could tell the time to the nearest hour from an analogue clock when he was 2 by recognising which numbers the little hand was between. He went through a period where he loved doing dot-to-dot puzzles, which are about joining the numbered dots in the right numerical order. At one point nursery were keen that he learns he can count abstract things that aren’t physical objects as well, so we used to count processes. How many parts are there to the morning routine (brush teeth, wash face, put clothes on, …)? How many stages are there to cross the road (hold hands, stand at the edge, look one way, …)?

But while you’re counting, you can also talk about the properties of objects and the patterns they form. We have made ‘object graphs‘, which is where you classify things according to some attribute you decide on together and group the objects accordingly. For example, I grabbed a couple of handfuls of Lego and we arranged it by colour (so x axis colour, y axis frequency, though I didn’t use that language). This is exploring the properties of objects and classifying things. Then we counted each group to see which colour we had the most of. We’ve also done the same with different kinds of toys – Star Wars, dinosaurs, cars, etc. You can arrange the same objects using different classifications, which gets into how the same object can have multiple characteristics – this green dinosaur has two legs, but the other green dinosaur has four legs, etc. All this thinking about properties of objects is very mathematical. We used to play I-spy long before he could read by e.g. “I spy with my little eye something that’s red/round/tall/etc.” Again, classifying properties of objects. Just recently, we’ve played with #vehiclechat, which proved to be good fun thinking about definitions and classifications.

There’s a good pair of books called How Many? and Which One Doesn’t Belong? The latter in particular is amazing. The idea is that there are four objects and each has a plausible reason why it could be the odd one out, so there is no wrong answer but it’s just about talking properties and justifying your answer. My son really enjoys coming up with a reason for each of the four objects in a Which One Doesn’t Belong? Recently he has started making his own Which One Doesn’t Belong? puzzles from pattern blocks.

My son made these and asks “which one doesn’t belong? And how many times can you turn them?” He has some pretty strong ideas about what you’re likely to say! #wodb #patternblocks pic.twitter.com/37mQ4wbwG7

— Peter Rowlett (@peterrowlett) May 3, 2020

Apart from this, I am quite serious about maths being interlinked with other areas, especially at this age. We explored patterns by reading poems or story books and talking about words that rhyme, and making up nonsense words that rhyme with real words, etc. He asked what it is called when two words rhyme at the start, so he became a little boy with a good sense of alliteration. We’d play games on the walk to nursery where we’d take turns to say a word and the other would have to say a word that rhymed or alliterated with it. One day I told him about palindromes and he became obsessed, spotting them, inventing nonsense palindrome words, etc. This playing with language is good for his language, of course, but also it’s about patterns and properties, so it’s building that good foundation on which maths can grow.

This is just some rambly thoughts, but I hope it was interesting and helpful.

from The Aperiodical https://ift.tt/3bfFT9O from Blogger https://ift.tt/2zjv7Sx

[neworoldnews]

If your attention was ever caught by a fascinating theme, you know the feeling of being sucked into a mental dialogue.

Your inner voice, usually wandering on its aimless distractions, suddenly clicks! Dropping through a vortex of questions that curiosity begs to scratch.

This synchronised state of mind is rarely triggered during our daily tasks. So when it kicks, you are pumped with a focus strong enough to keep you wondering for hours. The Perception-high.

You mostly navigate in a pre-digested world, seeing what you would expect to see. Conditioned by predispositions, past experiences or hurried backup-conclusions.

Imagine perception as a color. The full rainbow representing the Object and each color a possible Perspective:

This is the perfect metaphor. Just like color is a brain’s hack to help you navigate, and not a property of the object itself, so your conditionings keep you moving in an otherwise overwhelming environment.

This eases decision making and enables action in an otherwise infinity of ponderation.

The mind reinforces the lessons you’ve gathered and the natural tendencies you have. It then paints the world according to your position at the rainbow.

When you look at something, you are actually throwing your colours at it and gazing back at the reflection. Imprisoned by a bubble of your own echo, moulded by imperfect barriers that guide your way into practicality.

Often, not aware of this colourful spectrum, we keep confusing our simplistic representations with the things in itself. The world stretches through our eyes so widely that is hard to notice our frontiers within it.

Just like someone before Newton wouldn’t see gravity in a fallen apple, who has never fallen in love will be blind to the colours of Romeo & Juliet:

The book is open, the apple cracks against the ground. Yet the observer will place the respective color in front of the object, collecting no more than a monochromatic representation. “God wanted the apple to fall”, colorises the priest; “what a teenage angst thing to do, Romeo”, scribbles the unlovable.

Think about the most practical and material-oriented person you know. Now picture her/him starting to drive. Imagine them becoming aware of the noises in the engine. Is it possible that this thought crossed their mind?

“The little noises it makes, it’s telling me what to do. For my whole life those were just random noises, but turned out to be instructions all along!”

Observation highs vary hugely in degree. They can be subtle, adding a little nuance to an existing colour. Or drastic, adding a whole new pigment to the palette.

You’ve been excited about becoming aware of something you were previously blind to before. Now compare that feeling with a man getting his mind blown by seeing colors for the first time [here’s a video].

Now compare that with the moment Einstein saw Time as another dimension, changing the colour spectrum for humanity.

Sure, most of us will never dream of such an intense revelation. But no matter the gradient of these perceptions, pleasure and admiration will always be aroused.

It’s about freedom. Novelty! To escape the circle of seeing what you would expect to see is to stand above a new landscape. To contemplate old sights with a renewed eye. It’s being a tourists to everything.

If you want to better master observation, and fix a dose of that sweet Perception High, you must realize how much your conditionings affect the impressions you gather.

Understand your mind-mold

The framework in which your mind operates is a complex interplay of psychological representations and social conditionings. These are the things that compose your colour.

To become aware of your mindset its helpful to play with some questions first. Let’s start small, with an experiment:

Think about riding a bicycle to work tomorrow. Allow yourself to reflect on the way you reason while answering these questions:

Check my emotional pulse. Have I intuitively made up my mind before pondering?

How did I tackled it, “why not” or “why would I”? How can that be a byproduct of my education?

Can I attach a fear to my decision-making? What fear would that be?

Is my analysis based on hopes or dislikes? Can those hopes be achieved or those dislikes avoided by my present self?

Is there any stereotype or belief on my thought process? What is it?

This is important because it put you in a original position. Like stretching for your eyes, preparing you to see.

Henrique Pousão was a naturalistic painter who deeply understood the power of learning how to see. To patiently allow the eye to catch up with every side, to delay judgment and isolate the different impulses that suggest a conclusion.

For him observation was in itself an act of Creation.

TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT HIS PAINTING:

This young boy, joyfully staring at us with mellow eyes, resting from the stillness of posing, may be one of the most iconic, yet ignored, symbols regarding Observation-Creation.

It’s amazing how natural the pictured moment is.

The scene couldn’t be less pretentious, the studio is perfectly ordinary, the kid sits in a relaxed and childish way, even the working environment is somewhat mild.

It looks like you just walked in the middle of the action. Your presence caused an Interruption, so you are caught by a delightful smile and two proud eyes staring for approval.

In fact, this painting is all about Interruptions.

The boy stops posing to show you his own version of himself, drawn on a little piece of paper. Behind him, on the canvas, is the painter’s sketch for the child’s picture.

So, how many painting are here, and what can they teach us about Observation?

1 — The Child’s Sketch

The boy shows no respect for the ritual of painting.

Turning his back on the canvas while breaking his pose, the child interrupts the painter to show a rippled piece of paper. He doesn’t do it out of malice nor ignorance, but out of a light-hearted disregard for convention.

Why show reverence to something just because it’s drawn in a proper canvas? Why not be proud of a piece of paper if it’s saturated with the same matter as the masterpieces: Pure Creativity.

The Child doesn’t aspire to rebel against anything, there is no duty in his creation. But the force he is driven by shows no mercy to authority, it is empowered by the value of curiosity and excitement in itself.

All principles are new and noble, all approaches worth considering. “Truth” is but a toy to be played with, open to amusing construction, while ideas are molded, tossed, mixed and joint like pieces of LEGO.

Nothing is too absurd, nothing is too serious, nothing is too evident!

It there was not a child in our way to Perception High, then Galileo Galilei would never have dropped balls from the Leaning Tower of Pisa, disclaming the solemn Aristotelian theory of gravity.

Never would Hennig Brand boild his own piss to discover phosphorus, or would anyone conceive the idea of a cat being both alive and dead at the same time.

It’s all about the freedom, the innocence, to level all that was thought and seen to a common ground where new values and concepts can flourish.

Interrupting authority, fuelled by Pure Creativity.

2 — The Canvas Draft

The draft presents a perfected version of the boy, nobler and more beautiful.

His wide potato nose is portrayed as small and delicate. The hat on top of his ragged clothes even seem aristocratic. His meditative head rests upon a steady hand. There is an overall feeling of idealisation

Somewhere, right now, there’s some small group of people working in a garage, dreaming about, if every single thing goes smoothly, changing the world.

Some eventually will. If Apple, Google or Microsoft had never dreamed of the most positive possible scenario, then how could they have aspired to be what they’ve become?

While playing with an idea, feel free to extend it into it’s most extreme scenario. Elaborate a whole mental experiment, or invent completely new laws and models.

The painter interrupts the boundaries of reality to go beyond the limits of his physical theme.

This is when you don’t think about how things are, but question about how things could be.

That thought functions as an arrow, pointing to a distant bright destiny that you ought to follow. At the dawn of agriculture, a man envisioning a golden field of wheat. A revolting slave dreaming of equality. A deaf scientist wishing to hear…

Though the complete opposite is also relevant.To warning us about just how bad something can become.

These are the so-called Utopias and Dystopias, and they are both a great compass and magnifying glass, when operated by Idealization.

3 — Henrique Pousão’s Painting

There was a moment when Pousão understood he would not be satisfied with what he was portraying.

That he would be missing something if he kept on painting the initial, sketched, version of the child’s portrait. So he Interrupted it.

Seeking the noble beauty he had first envisioned would cost him authenticity. By pursuing the classic canon, the stylised portrait that is set to elevate Art from the mundane (with its picturesque backgrounds and romanticised beauty) Pousão would then be blind to the real boy.

Blind to a shy smile concealed by proud eyes. He would never notice the elegance with which the child’s ragged, old, shoes touch the ground like a ballerina. And the chance to capture a manner so subtle, so enriched with truth, would be lost.

Roar back at the loud command of expectations. Both your own and all others. Understand that you also take part in shaping the concepts that are so often taken as truth.

Doing so widens possibility. Look beyond present conventions and morals. Shape this structure, because it will eventually also change your own views in a loop. Society is an ever mutable cycle of transformation. Check any history book.

The ability to sacrifice one’s present vision and opinion is the great virtue of adaptability. To be always permeable, taking pride in once being wrong and honouring not being sure of anything.

Embracing reality in its full scope, even when contradictory or hurtful, is to be synchronised with its complexity.

Facing ugliness with a wholesome disposition is what got us using Viruses, infectious agents responsible for taking countless lives, to Cure such diseases as cancer.

4 — Your Observation as a Painter

Though the paint didn’t move, the painting has changed. It’s no longer the one you’ve first seen. It has been painted over.

For every new observation a pigment has been added. colours been deepened and shapes widen.

In any sport, game or activity, enjoyment consists in taking part, is being committed to imprint your individuality, feeling and being engaged.

You stood, facing the canvas, in the position of a Painter. Ready to pick up the brush Pousão so thoughtfully left within your reach at the left of the canvas. Reminding that it up to you to give colour to any observation.

Facing the fact that we are painters of our impressions is as empowering as liberating. It offers the world as a palette to explore, strengthening our ties with everything and setting observation as an act of creation.

In a strange way the freedom granted for painters, to enthusiastically and with imagination depict their views, don’t set them apart from reality.

Quite the contrary, it allows them a stronger connection and sensibility with it, as it promotes inquiry and critical sense. The absolute contrary of Apathy, the great responsible for neglecting one’s relation to knowledge.

If you weren’t a painter, then Pousão’s masterpiece would have a painting less: Yours, an ever-changing piece.

There is no such thing as empty things or people. Just elements filled with something you haven’t yet learned to see.

By keeping in check Pousão’s lessons things appear less solid and more like an interplay of invisible fabrics. A tissue of colours filled with nuance, waiting to be experienced from every angle.

If everyone is looked at as a painter, then discussions are more fluid, people more tolerant, observation more engaging, and things just a lot more interesting to look at.

Do you remember becoming aware of something you were blind to? What?

[indigomez]

Second time’s a charm

A/N: This was requested! Lmao there’s so many soft boy peter smut in my inbox it’s honestly fucking hilarious.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader! 

Genre: Fluffy and smutty ;)

Warnings: None, other than soft! Peter parker sex. ;))))))

Summary: You and your boyfriend have been dating for three years, now being seniors, you two decided to try something new, so here’s your second try :)

It was a late night in Queens on a Saturday night. Peter said he had Avengers things to take care of since Tuesday this week, but not anything out of the norm. You’d only see him in school or during Spiderman duty,

But tonight it was pretty lonely, your parents were gone for two weeks because of your mother’s popular new book she just published, and along with your father being the Ceo of the new school’s tech division board, they were pretty busy. Leaving you alone in your city high rise apartment.

You tried calling Peter but he never answered, only texting you by the time you’ve fallen asleep. But tonight you were stumped by writing this essay, over the stupidest shit to man you just sat there at your desk with your laptop mocking you, the flashing of the typing bar screamed just fucking type something but nothing came to mind.

You groaned, rubbing your face when you felt a light tap at the window, turning your head, you saw the familiar red and blue spandex suit. Smiling like a whole idiot you ran towards your window, quickly sliding it open. Smiling wider as he climbed through your window with a grunt, placing the large plastic back on the floor before cupping your face in his hands, 

He was quick to lock his lips with yours, he missed holding you, your warmth, the taste of your lips was always something familiar to him, you moved some of your desk nicknacks aside as he pushed you backward, you quickly hopped onto your desk, not losing the connection of your lips on his, he stood in between your thighs, running his hands up and down your curvaceous body.

“Oh god, I missed you so much.” He whispered against your lips, smiling as he slowly pulled away, you looked into his warm chocolate eyes. “ I missed you too love...” He smiled and pecked your lips one last time before walking away, you quickly hopped off the desk. “So, how you been?” 

“Good, Mr. Stark wanted me to do some training and run some tests.” You hummed, as he sent one last text to may before placing his phone on your nightstand. “Have any plans tonight? You know that new lego’s movie came out-” 

“Uh, I was actually thinking... We do something else.” Peter muttered, turning towards you with a heavy blush on his cheeks. “Oh, well. What did you have in mind.” You asked, Peter fiddled with his fingers, not daring to stare at you. You were dressed in an ‘ I survived my trip to NYC’ shirt and your favorite soft lace panties. You smelled sweet and citrus, your watermelon and mint body wash along with the cocoa butter lotion made his mind go haywire.

“Uh... Uh- are your parents, home?” He asked, you nodded your head no. “They're gone for two weeks.” His eyes bulged out of his head, his head popped up as he looked at you. “Really?” 

“Yeah, for two whole weeks, and remember. Schools out this week because of property damage.” You laughed, the blush on his cheeks softened as he laughed, remembering what happened. “So, we- we have the world to ourselves huh?”

“We sure do, so. What did you have in mind?” You smiled, walking up to him as he instantly put his hands on your hips. “I-I dunno-”

“Well, I was thinking. Since you know we have nothing to do. My parents are gone, there’s no school.” You rambled on, your fingertips tracing the intricate design on his suit. “We can, try again.” You looked up at him, pressing the spider pendant on his chest, his suit falling off of his shoulders as his eyes stared at your every move. Your eyes watched as you pushed his suit off of his beautifully toned body.

“Fuck,” You whispered, looking back into his eyes as he stared back at you. You cupped his face, placing a sensual kiss on his lips before kissing his jaw, then down his neck. He shuttered by the warmth of your lips against his skin, moaning at the feel of you biting on his ear and your hands roaming his upper body.

“Y-Y/N” He muttered, his hands snaking his way up your back. You moved back, staring as his god-given abs before looking back up at him. “This isn’t fair.” You chuckled as you lifted the hem of your shirt, throwing it onto your dresser as his eyes never left your chest. “Sheesh Peter, never seen tits before? We were in the same health class.” You laughed, throwing your arm around your chest to cover up, but he was quick to hold onto your wrist, locking his eyes on your beautiful chest,

“No... there just...” He muttered, walking closer to you. He put his hands behind your thighs, lifting you up as if you weigh nothing. His lips lock on yours as he walks over towards your bed, sitting you down on his lap. His hands were excited to hold your soft breasts, “P-Peter wait-”

He stopped all movements, looking up at you with his wide puppy dog eyes. Afraid out of his mind that he hurt you. “Let me get the box-” He laughed in relief as you hopped off his lap and towards your closet. Smiling as your ass bounced with every step you took. Good god, he was so lucky.

When you came back with the familiar pink wooden box in hand, you tossed it to the side of you and Peter as you sat in his lap and opened the box. The familiar red tint staining your cheeks as you saw the packets of unopened condoms.

“Uh, uh- um, which one? Are you.” You stuttered, turning the box towards him, he chuckled. Grabbing the Trojan Bareskin packet from the variety of different condoms from the box, Damn, did condoms always look this weird?

“Pete?” He looked up at you, you slightly shifted, getting comfortable on his lap. “Are you nervous?” You muttered, your heart pounding against your chest as you looked into his soft warm eyes. He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “Of course I am, this is my first time, our first time. But don’t be scared to tell me if something hurts, please.” You nodded, smiling back at him as you pushed him onto his back.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He panted, his heart racing and banging against his ears as he looked at your face, sweat coated your face as you opened your eyes, nodding with anticipation. “Yes Peter, please... Do you wanna-”

“You already know, just making sure.” He huffed, looking down between your bodies, as he aligned himself against your core, you shuddered by the feel of him against you, you smiled. Biting your lip as you try to keep your composure.

“Okay... okay.” Peter whispered to himself, giving you one last look of reassurance. Giving him a quick nod, he slowly pushed in. His hands gripping the sheets tightly as you both moaned at the new feeling. “Ohh, fuck.” He hissed, moving in deeper slowly, it was driving you crazy.

“Peter.” You sighed, grabbing onto his damp shoulders, “huh- yeah?” 

“Move, please move.” He started off at a decent speed, your whole body relaxed as you let out a soft moan. “F-Faster- Fuck!” He knew at this point he had to be doing something right, he could see the goosebumps on your skin, your nipples on your breast hardened under his fingertips, he could feel your chest hum with each moan. Your back arched off the bed as you scratched onto his shoulders, he hissed at the feeling of your nails digging into his bare skin. And good god did he love it.

“Y/N... I’m so close.” He whispered into your ear, his hips becoming jagged with every thrust, he placed his head into your neck, kissing, licking, and biting your neck and earlobe as you were already on edge. You grabbed on to his hair, your fingers getting tangled into his messy brown curls.

“Peter- “ You felt the roughest wave of orgasm you’ve ever felt. Stamping your eyes shut as you grided your clit against him as he continued thrusting into you, it was body shaking, like the first time you’ve ever given yourself an orgasm. This one felt straight groundbreaking, your core shook as you cried out his name, 

Peter soon came too, as you were slowly riding out your high. He moaned your name as he held onto your hips, riding out his orgasm as you rubbed your swollen clit. “Fuck, fuck!!” He cried, his thrust growing sloppy as he rode out his high, with one final thrust, he let out a huge moan. His body collapsed onto you as you held him in your arms. Catching your breaths you both laid there in peace, letting your fan cool off your sweaty bodies. 

“T...That was, amazing.” He muttered against your chest, slowly rolling off of you and pulling out, before sitting his head on the pillow next to you. You turned to your side facing him, smiling at his red face. “It was, second times a charm right?” He chuckled, pulling you into his chest and kissing your forehead. 

“I’m glad we did this, I’m glad my first time was with you.” You looked up at him, almost tearing up at the sincerity in this kids eyes. “I feel the same way, I wouldn’t change it for the world.” Kissing his jaw, he hugged you tighter, “Hey, you think I’m gonna become Spider-Woman?”

“What on Earth makes you think that?” He laughed, “I mean, you got bit by the spider, and that gave you powers. And we had sex-”

“Y/N, that is not the same thing.” He chuckled, you leaned on your elbows, facing him as his arm still held you. “Yeah, but wouldn’t it be fun? Us fighting crime together? Spiderman and Spider-Woman, common you can’t beat that!” He laughed at your enthusiasm, the light in your eyes glistened as you rambled on, he cupped your face before planting a large kiss on your lips, pulling back with a ‘muah!’  

“I’d hate for you to get hurt.” He muttered, his smile falling a little at the thought. It was your turn to cup his face, smushing his cheeks together. “I understand, but if I do end up getting powers, or anything. I’d still help you with anything, even fighting Mr. Criminal.” 

He gushed, wrapping his arms around your waist, rolling you under him as he slathered you in kisses. “Peter! That tickles!! C-come on, let’s shower. Then we can watch a movie.” He nodded, helping you up out of bed, letting you go into the bathroom first, smirking giving you a nice slap on your left cheek. “Or how about round two?” Smiling at him with a cocked eyebrow, you giggled. 

“You got a deal.”

[vedj-f-bekuesu]

So I’ve made a few posts analysing Rex Dangervest. That’s all fine and good because he does have a lot to analyse (it’s a very good film with a lot of emphasis on theming, it comes with the package). 

However, I don’t think I’ve done any in-depth stuff with the other LEGO Rex most people know after that, and my PFP, Rex Fury. It’s a shame because I think between Chase Begins and LCU, there is a nice arc to analyse with Rex, but because way more focus is given to Chase’s arc (because protagonist and all), Rex is often seen as this pretty flat brute. So, I’m going to be tracking his characterisation between Chase Begins and LCU and showing that he too had a shift in character, and one for the darker at that. 

Merry Little Troublemaker

In my last post related to Rex Fury, I drew comparison to Emmet in where his arc goes. That being said, I want to make clear that Rex and Emmet have very different start points; Emmet is a run-of-the-mill worker who ends up becoming a hero due to his inherent qualities prior to his turn. Rex Fury is a bad apple from the very beginning. LCU even explicitly states that Rex’s criminal career started when he was just six years old (although we’re only shown him winding up kid cops by taking their doughnuts). 

All we know after that is that Rex eventually worked his way up the criminal chain to be considered the biggest criminal in LEGO City, and he has been arrested at least once before the events of Chase Begins. Then again, is being top of the chain really that much of a big deal if the competition isn’t that threatening. As we’ll see later, most of the crime he actually commits is closer to the standard of a very persistent above average criminal. The best comparison I can think of right now is Daisy Kaboom from LEGO City Adventures; she’s certainly the main criminal figure but she’s only got a bit more competence on her side compared to her colleagues. 

A really important point I should cover at this point is Rex’s actual personality in Chase Begins. For a start, he’s very cocky and joyful, for lack of a better word. When he gets to meet Chase for the first time, it’s via a sneak attack when Chase shows up in the middle of Rex getting explosives for the main heist. But for most of it, he’s got an adorable happy little manner throughout. He’s even jokingly thanking Chase by the end of the conversation!

The notable exception to this is when Chase accidentally reveals that Natalia has been freed from her frozen state, which Rex presumably thought would be able to hold her until the heist was over. 

Him taking the information in and rethinking the plan over is the first bit of vulnerability Rex shows, and it’s right in front of Chase’s face as well.

Second of all, Rex displays implicit but still very-much-present altruism. For example, the escape from Albatross Island he does involves freeing pretty much every prisoner, and not all of them end up working on his plan later either. Amongst them were four other major criminals considered comparable in rank to Rex himself. Out of those, it’s not clear who was working on the plan with him for sure, but we know at least Flash Johnson must have been since he was part of the Apollo Island distraction efforts. On top of all this, he later entrusts the abduction of Natalia (the only instance in the series where Rex abducts Natalia himself) and the Mayor to Snake and Bruiser (lower goons) respectively, while he sorts out something else. Compared to later conduct, that’s a high level of respect. 

Finally, there’s the heist itself. The contentious and lethal part of Rex’s entire plan in the game is the use of dynamite on buildings. While in the real world that would be classed as a terrorist act probably, in LEGO terms that’s a pretty standard higher-level criminal thing (Daisy Kaboom, as hinted by the name, even specialises in it). Plus, as Deputy Dunby (yes, Dunby) realises, all of his actions (both the fires and the kidnapping) were intentional diversions, so if Rex banked on the police showing up to these places and saving the people trapped long enough to pull off the heist, he probably wasn’t intending for there to be loss of life. It’s a reckless plan, but not that malicious. 

The Snapping Point

So as the big heist goes on, Chase eventually manages to work past the distractions and reach Rex Fury himself as he’s robbing the bank. Here is where his trademark anger really starts to flare, but even in this angered state he’s not that terrible. He gets a chance to show off his strength when he goads Chase to approach him (although he doesn’t throw him that far, so I’d say at this point his strength was merely above average and not super strength), he sets a fire behind him to put a barrier between him and Chase (which is more dangerous to him than Chase), he uses his dynamite to destroy property and not directly on Chase, and he even gets a bit of a casual word in with his goons. 

After this, he is rightfully frustrated, which only heightens when Chase insults his education. They get into a fisticuffs on the stairs of the bank, which leads up to the only other bit of vulnerability Rex shows while coherent; 

He’s recovering from the blows to his body (because he definitely is much weaker than in LCU), and as a result he decides to flee, taking a nearby rubbish truck. When that gets stopped, he does another runner, but when you get on the same vehicle, he resorts to hiding behind a shield while his goons try to attack you and fire with a water cannon (his only form of retaliation being to shunt the shield). 

Chase manages to throw him off the truck in one throw, and upon landing he gets completely dazed, ending his plan once and for all. Dunby makes an easy arrest, Chase accidentally reveals Natalia is willing to testify against Rex while Rex looks on dazed still, all ends happy...according to Chase Begins. 

LCU recounts this moment a little longer, but what is clear is that somewhere in that moment, when the humiliation, the anger and the failure against a complete rookie finally seemed to sink in, something in Rex Fury just...snapped, and he was no longer the run-of-the-mill criminal who was content with reckless distractions. Presumably while Dunby was seeing Chase off, Rex tried to do another getaway. His first showing of the change wasn’t exactly the greatest, granted (a lawnmower, really? Must have still been a smidge dazed), but what is notable is that the subsequent final arrest for that incident had him able to hold against six officers. If he was only a bit stronger in Chase Begins, how did he achieve that? Simple; the same way Emmet was able to achieve momentary feats of great strength, by channelling his heightened anger.

The Monster of LEGO City

After this point, Rex changed in a variety of ways, even if he still kept his position as top baddie. For a start, instead of being held in the regular part of the prison, he was given his own cell secluded in the warden’s office, effectively acting as a permanent solitary confinement. Over time, Warden Stonewall took the position from Warden Fielding. Unlike Fielding, Stonewall was corrupt, so to make his time easier with Rex he allowed concessions to Rex (basically anything he wanted if he was able to negotiate for it, and even allowing him to have the tools for escape, although he couldn’t just let him free as this would compromise his position). This meant two things happened; 

1. He was able to build his strength. Much like Rex Dangervest, there’s solid evidence he had been following a kind of exercise regime with a punching bag and numerous dumbbells. This made the momentary burst of strength a permanent feature. 

2, The altruism was practically gone. Instead of letting all of the other prisoners out in a grand scheme, his escape was only for himself, leaving everyone else to stay rotting in the prison. In addition, during his stay he had started to manipulate others into sourcing certainly luxuries, only to renege on the deal and stiff them. This is a tactic he’d eventually play to Vinnie with practically all the stuff Vinnie retrieved, when sometime after his escape from Albatross Island he agreed to work for Forrest.

It’s important to note how differently he does his plan in regards to others even once he’s freed. Instead of speaking directly to his goons, most of the communication is done through walkie talkies and is very impersonal (the exception is right at the very end, but even then his talk to them is very direct, not playful). He’s more willing to speak in person to those more equal to his station, but with Vinnie this was to continue “negotiations” and reveal a new tool in his arsenal; coercion by force. As for Forrest, this was probably the lightest he behaved, but it was still very matter-of-fact...mostly. 

The third change, the one that had built up silently, is probably the most fundamental one of all; his mischievous, angry and reckless but ultimately still tame personality had been replaced with malice, hatred, cruelty and a thirst for revenge. Compare how he confronted Chase in Bluebell Mines in Chase Begins compared to the same confrontation in LCU. 

There is no sneak attack here, he confronts him to his face in the open. And when Chase tries to retaliate, he responds in kind with a punch to the face. It also leads to the only moment what can be considered straight-forward glee he has; being told about the truck that’s been secured from the LCPD (a feed to his need for revenge). This is cut short when he loses his temper with the goons on hand with the ice cream truck, a much lower tolerance for their antics here than in Chase Begins. 

Much later on, after Vinnie decides to (unwittingly) cross Rex’s boss, Rex begins to display how deplorable he’s really become when he orders his men to put Vinnie on ice, ironically being more outright gangster than mafia don Vinnie. Unlike with Natalia, there would be no way for Vinnie to eventually thaw out, so this was an explicit murder attempt (even if it may have been under orders from Forrest higher up). 

This borders on depravity when Chase infiltrates Rex’s secret base to find Rex detaining and torturing Henrik Kowalski. It’s true that Rex was not the only one guilty of torture in LCU, but when Chan did it, it was in response to Natalia trespassing to find his secrets, and for the utilitarian purpose of extracting information about why she was there and what she had found out, before keeping her restrained up a crane once he’d got what he wanted. Forrest told Rex in the scene prior that he’s already secured the leverage that would get Henrik to talk (aka Natalia), but not only is this in response to Rex being keen to do this by physically beating him, he still goes ahead with a different form of torture when it served no purpose to the scheme. At that point it was for his sick pleasure. Again, not too dissimilar to Rex Dangervest, who had Emmet to rights under the dryer already but went along to gloat and eventually torture him to twist the knife in. 

Also note that Rex had to be aware of what Forrest’s ultimate plan was when he was granted his own spacesuit and would have need to travel to Blackwell Tower right after the torture scene. Given his eye roll when Henrik explains that the original proposal would have caused the animals to die (he was shown to be somewhat of an animal lover in Chase Begins), his sneer in anticipation of Henrik being threatened with his daughter’s life and complete lack of response to Forrest concluding his message (to take Natalia to the ship), Rex is 100% complicit in homicide on a mass scale.

Way up in space, Rex shows off the only other time he shows more of his old spirit; bragging to Chase about how he was the one who got him the robot T-Rex (the one Rex was now going to use to try and kill Chase). After this point though, between Chase besting the robot and Forrest stabbing him in the back, he becomes consumed with anger. He doesn’t show vulnerability this time, he just rages in response to Forrest. Even after the unit explodes and he barely survives on the ruins, his only goal is to kill Chase. While he does elect to use a shield for a bit, when the thing comes down he tries to run Chase down, choke him and throw him off the edge, he doesn’t hide. Throwing bodies at him only dazes him, which would have ended his scheme in Chase Begins but is merely a minor setback here. Only when the unit is broken completely and Rex is left to fall to the planet does his plan come to a stop. For reference, even Rex Dangervest shows vulnerability right up until Emmet makes it clear that he refuses to go along with his plan after learning all the hurt he caused, making him go insane. It’s implied the same has effectively happened here (”Are you mad?! We’re plummeting to out doom!”).

He gets humiliated further when he lands in a toilet, but even with the toilet on his head and with handcuffs on, after falling through space, he had enough resistance left to give the two officers moving him a hard time. It’s unknown how his future would pan out from that point.

The last thing I want to cover is how this is symbolised by his clothing ware. The beginning of Chase Begins and LCU imply that Rex isn’t a stranger to being bare-chested, but it’s always been very temporary. When he first appears in person in Chase Begins, he wears full clothing; a vest and a domino mask. When Chase has angered Rex outside of the bank, he’s not wearing his domino mask, stripping a layer from his self. In the ending, he wears the domino mask again but it slips off, and the domino mask is never seen again. LCU then shows the vest for only a brief time before he spends the rest of the game (up to the space suit) bare-chested, this time making the exposure to his more raw side a permanent fixture. 

So there we go, an (over)analysis of Rex Fury and what elements make him so interesting to me. I think it helps he was given two games to work across. Plus, outside of all this, he’s entertaining as heck. 

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Paper Girl

Genre: wlw, mystery, slice of life urban fantasy

Words: 25k

Summary: A paper girl, a wealthy neighborhood, and a strange house. Seiko Toyomi starts her job at the crack of dawn and then does her sleeping on the morning bus, in between she interacts with a strange young girl that never seems to leave her house.

Seiko unexpectedly starts to befriend the girl and begins to wonder more and more: who is she? Why does no one know her? And is she trapped?

A love story of newspapers, front porches, and growing up together

Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon ⭐ WordPress⭐Twitter ⭐ Wattpad ⭐ Ao3

There was a house up on Townsend Street. A house with wedding-cake frosting trims and big white oak doors, a massive yard with room for three dogs but no dog in sight. It had a blue-grey exterior and thick green hedges perfectly trimmed in a square around the whole property. White daffodils bloomed in the numerous flower boxes and kaleidoscope bird feeders hung from the porch. The type of bird feeders even thieving squirrels looked at and said: no way guys, we can’t touch those ones.

A proper wrought iron fence hugged the hedges, dark, with ornate swoops and swirls at each bend, opening only once at an enormous double-gate. It was also dark iron and more decorative than practical, filled with large gaps and flowery designs, like out of some sort of story book. Seiko called it the ‘fairy gate’ in her head, holding her breath and crossing her fingers as she walked under the arch each time.

Everything was big there, big and quiet and filled with a hushed kind of luxury, it didn’t announce itself, but it was a living heartbeat that strangled everything else with it.

It was that type of street. A street with no cracks in the smooth grey sidewalks and cars with wax finishes and busybody mothers that yelled at her when she accidently walked on a lawn. Seiko didn’t mean to walk on the grass, she promised Mrs. Hankla it was only once and only since she was in a bit of a hurry.

They called the enclave ‘Greenbriar Hill’ and the other delivery kids were jealous she was assigned there, nobody else got tips like her. But nobody else had to deal with the wedding-cake house either.

They didn’t have to deal with the young girl in the neat frilly pajamas and face that scrunched up like an upset paper bag, watching Seiko with an exacting spotlight gaze.

The girl waited outside the big white oak doors every morning like one of those dogs that fetched the paper for you, but not the doting golden retriever type. More like a trimmed poodle, with it’s curls primped and perfumed with utmost care before it was walked. Or squatted next to a fire hydrant.

She looked around Seiko’s age, no more than 11, standing outside each morning in pink fluffy pajamas that fell past her knees and a pressed white bow. Her thick blonde hair was carefully curled and hung just above her shoulder tops, loose corkscrew curls that bounced when she moved. She had dark eyes the color of royal blue ink or sunless ocean waters, dark and ready to storm.

She had pinched cheeks and a little mouth, making her eyes seem even bigger on her small face and delicate features. Most strikingly was how pale she was, pale as unmarked parchment or bleached bone, like the dry skeleton of a hare Seiko saw once on a trip to Arizona: bare and stripped, a little chilling.

She was as pale as burnt ash and almost as worrying, like a sickly victorian child you thought to give cough syrup to. Or holy water.

Seiko wasn’t expecting to see anyone her age outside this early, the sun was barely up and Seiko’s arms were goose-fleshing from the chilly breeze. She had worn her short-sleeve Lego Batman t-shirt for her first day, making sure everyone saw it at least once since she spent her allowance and then some on the thing.

And now she was sitting on her bike in someone’s huge driveway with a little girl in pink staring fiercely back at her lego-shirt and shivering arms.

The girl glanced down at a leather wristwatch as if Seiko was late, what kind of kid had a leather wristwatch? Seiko plucked a newspaper out from her sack and hopped gingerly forward.

“Good morning miss,” that sounded like the right thing to say. She smiled, “It’s gonna be a beautiful day.” The girl reached out and snatched the newspaper from Seiko’s hands, “it’s going to rain.” She said flatly back and her blonde curls danced in place. “You’re new. What’s your name?” Seiko blinked a couple times, taken back. “Seiko. Seiko Toyomi, nice to meet you?” She wasn’t sure if she should put her hand out to shake, like a sales transaction or charged mob-boss greeting like she saw in movies.

“Well, Seiko,” the girl said tartly, “don’t leave the gate open next time, it’s a hazard.” Seiko’s eyes went huge and she frowned, “It’s my first day.” The girl arched her eyebrows pointedly over at the end of the lawn and Seiko followed her gaze, she had, indeed, left the gate open behind her. Seiko had a few snappy words trapped behind her tongue about the girl’s attitude.

“Annalise!” A voice called from inside the house, “Annalise! Did you get it?” “Yes mom,” the girl turned around, only sparing one last look behind her. “Don’t forget the gate. And,” she paused, “thank you for the paper.” She said stiffly. “Here.” She handed Seiko her tip and it all felt like some sort of dream Seiko was walking through, with  rich girls in sleeping wear sliding her balled up five dollar bills from her tight fists. She half-expected to see a large white swan walk out from behind the bushes to grant her wishes.

“Thanks,” Seiko piped up, blinking. “Have a nice day.” The girl, Annalise, just waved and shut the door behind her. “Don’t forget about the rain.” Seiko turned around to hide her eye-roll and jumped back on her bike, maybe money could buy giant yards and fancy bikes with more than one speed. But apparently it couldn’t buy manners. It did rain that day though, and every day after.

Seiko remembered it vividly, like an omen.

—————–

Seiko got up at 5:45am, just like her mom instructed, bolting upright with the first beep of her alarm clock and jumping into her sneakers. She had slept in her jeans and fuzzy orange sweater, her mom didn’t know about that part.

But it was Seiko’s second day of work and she wasn’t going to mess it up, she already got briefly yelled at for knocking over someone’s lawn gnome and delivering someone’s paper bent in half. Most people smiled and waved and handed her a dollar or two, but those two other encounters stuck in her mind like a sharpened pencil. It wouldn’t happen again.

The apartment was dark and soundless at that hour, almost seeming taboo, Seiko was careful to walk heel-toe down the hall and only turn on one light. She ended up stuffing a single piece of bread in her mouth and then hurrying out the door, groggy and wired as a dorm room outlet. She left ten minutes earlier than she needed to, whirring over Mr. Simmons shop and grinning from ear to ear the whole way on her bike.

Rogers, Illinois was a small town, small enough that people liked their papers hand-delivered and Mr. Simmons was old-fashioned and idyllic enough to hire kids to do it. It built character he said, tightened the community, somehow was unquestioned under ‘child labor laws.’ That sort of thing.

Seiko skidded to a halt in front of the corner shop, waving, “Hey Mr. Simmons!” She put her hand out, “Here for the Greenbriar route.” Mr. Simmons was out front moving boxes and fastening shut large sacks, bulging with rolled up papers. They were white with one thick strap for your shoulder and the words ‘Local Business Proud’ printed on the side.

Mr. Simmons handed her the far one, “Remember we’re having a pizza party this Friday,” he sounded properly awake and bright, “It’ll be the first one for the whole team.” Mr. Simmons was young, still graying around the temples and nearly blind in one eye, a traditionalist in the sense of people who forget what tradition is.

“Thanks Mr. Simmons, I’ll remember,” she grinned and waved, kicking off from the curb. “See you!” She streaked away, ready to prove herself in all her 10-year-old glory and with the energy of a newly-broken glow stick.

She pedaled hard, making little grunts as she pushed herself up the hill to Greenbriar, sweating despite the sweet fall chill in the air. The neighborhood was graveyard-still when she arrived, cold and blurry-eyed. She grinned, reaching two-story sprawling houses and carefully placing papers face-up in their slim plastic bags, like neatly wrapped Christmas morning presents.

She didn’t knock over any lawn gnomes this time.

Seiko was breathing hard, but in a good way, in the way that made her feel like she just answered a question right in class or did a perfect high-five. The wedding-cake house was in the middle house of her route, slightly removed from the other ones. Seiko closed the gate quickly behind her when she arrived and latched it tightly just in case.

It was earlier this time, no hint of sun on the horizon under the lumpy morning clouds and no sound of bird calls at all. The girl in pink pajamas was waiting for her.

Seiko waved, “I closed the gate!” She sang and jumped off her bike to hurry forward, “I’m even early.” Annalise looked her up and down and then nodded, just as pale and otherworldly as before. “Good.” Annalise put her hand out, “the other boy always used to forget anyway.” Seiko picked her way up the driveway, she smiled amiably. “Hey, do you go to Bristol Elementary school? Or Canyon Creek? I bet it’s Canyon.” The girl frowned at her, wiggling her fingers in midair for the paper, “Seiko Toyomi,” she sounded like she was prying the name off a burning skillet. “You go to Bristol.” Seiko nodded quickly, “Yeah, Bristol, how do you know that? Do you go there?” She hopped up and down, then stopped with a frown, “Probably not.” She would have seen her in the school halls if she did.

“Put rain boots on tomorrow,” Annalise fluffed her curling hair, “It will be worse.” She took the paper from her briskly. “Thank you for your service.” She handed her another large bill.

Seiko was still staring at her as she closed the door and another voice called as before, “Anna, dear, bring the tea over too.”

“Coming!” What kind of girl was this?

Seiko pulled her hood up as it began to drizzle, turning away and putting the oddness of it out of sight and out of mind. She slept on the bus on her way to school that morning and dreamt of poodles eating her bike tires and barking at her.

—————

The entire week continued like that: Seiko pedaling her heart out and trying to prove herself to some unknown entity that judged ten-year-olds on their job performance. Biking, delivering, and having snatches of conversation with early-waking exercise nuts, bathrobe-fathers with bags under their eyes, and old people ready to complain about the morning’s headlines.

And the girl. The strange girl.

She was chastising and brisk, reminding Seiko of the crabby middle-aged manager at the local CVS who always yelled at Seiko for picking up half the candy section and then only ever buying one. She reminded her of the blonde news-anchor lady who was always angry at the local politicians. She reminded her of someone who definitely had never seen the Lego Batman movie and never would.

Seiko only found out a little more about the sharp and secretive girl on the last day of the week: the friday pizza party. It stopped raining that day.

—-

“Does she have like, warts on her hands?”

“Or blood on the doorframe? For warding off the evil eye or something.”

“Tell me she has a raven that caws at you when you enter.”

“Why would I go inside?” Seiko pushed away the face of a bug-eyed boy with too many freckles and a whistle when he talked through the gap in his teeth. The other kid’s crowded around her in turn.

“Does she have roses in her garden?” A mousy girl with straight black hair and the voice of a tiny cricket asked her a little dreamily. “That never wilt or die. I bet they’re beautiful.”

“Tell me her mother tips you in crystals or astrology calendars or something.” June, a bright-eyed redhead, contributed excitably. “I’ve never seen the mom,” Seiko shook her head, “Only the daughter. And they don’t have roses.” Katy, the mousy girl, wilted at that. Katy was slightly chubby, stout, and skittish, always looking ready to apologize or sink into the floor like a self-effacing puddle.

Bobby Isler, the bug-eyed boy, frowned “Or blood?” “Or blood.” “Aww,” June slumped down, vivid red ponytail bobbying in place, she was a tall girl in baggy overalls and chipped fingernails each painted a different color. She grumbled, “That’s so lame.” She poked her pizza with one finger. “Are you even looking?” Seiko rolled her eyes and took a bite of her own luke-warm pepperoni pizza, Mr. Simmons had left them alone to ‘enjoy themselves’ as he explained with a wink. He thought they were talking about crushes or weed or whatever he assumed kids talk about.

They were not talking about weed.

“It’s not like that. It’s normal. Ish,” she looked away and scratched her nose, “Why are you all so interested in it? She’s seriously not a witch.”

Bobby poked her, “Nuh-uh. Don’t you watch channel 7?” He squinted at her, “How out of the loop are you?” They all stare at her, Seiko jutted her jaw out fiercely, “Me? You’re the ones,” she huffed, “you’re the ones who are losing it. She’s just a lady and her snooty daughter.” “I didn’t know she had a daughter,” Katy said slowly. “She never mentions it. That’s nice to know though.” Seiko blew stray dark hairs out of her eyes, she had cut it short for the new school year and immediately regretted it. It kept getting in her face.

“Yeah, well, she does. And she’s bratty,” she sniffed loudly, “and we don’t get channel 7, my mom says it’s rubbish.” “Rubbish,” June repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth and rubbing her nose, “are you doing that phony British accent again?” Seiko’s cheeks flushed red, June was in her fifth grade class and she had a long memory. Seiko looked away and took a huge bite of her pizza, “That was only for a little! SO long ago June.” June snickered and looked at the others, “she pretended to have British accent for all of 4th grade, and not even a good one.” “It was only for a month!” Seiko retorted sharply, “barely three weeks.” June laughed again, “it was the worst.” Bobby laughed loudly and Katy looked away politely, like this was some embarrassing family affair where the aunt took her shoes off and threw them at your rotten Uncle Shou for smoking and tipping the pretty waitress too much.

Katy cleared her throat, “She’s the only psychic in town, I watch her every night.” She met Seiko’s eyes, “I’m going to get my love line read by her.” She nodded astutely, like it was set in stone and the only obvious path ahead. Katy was also the oldest of them, just turned 13, and that made an impression in Seiko’s head.

Or at least, it had. She wrinkled her nose, “Love line?” She snorted, “That’s all bogus, she’s just a rich lady who reads off a teleprompter.” She shook her head, “That’s what my mom says.” Her mom had a lot of opinions.

“No way,” June crossed her arms over her chest, “She’s the real deal. She did Macy’s moms fortune on LIVE TELEVISION, she talked about future death in the family and Macy’s grandpa died the next week! She’s the real deal.” Madame Catherine Lynne (or just Madame Lynne) was a local television personality who told people’s fortune on channel seven, several small-town legends had sprung up around her since. With her huge glasses, elbow-length gloves, long evening gowns and deep resounding voice, they called her everything from a genuine black-magic witch to an elaborate hack.

“I just deliver her papers,” Seiko grumbled into her soda, “I didn’t even know that was her house.” Which was true, it was just another fancy house in a row of fancy houses.

“Well, that’s our favorite space case for you,” June reached for Seiko to give her one of her signature noogie’s.

Seiko pushed her way, “And our favorite terrible busy-body.” They exchanged a number of kicks under the table until Katy put her hands down, “Let me know if you see the Madame.” She said in a small but firm voice, “Ask her if she’s gotten letters from a Katy Mendoza. I’ve been,” she struggled, face blooming red as she realized they were all staring at her now. “I’ve been writing…” She ended weakly.

Seiko frowned, there was so much earnestness in the other girl’s face, almost desperate. Seiko puffed her chest out, “I will, I promise.”

They all sat back in their chairs and Seiko stifled a yawn as the music of the pizza parlour swelled. She was ready to leave by then, still tired from waking up at around 5am all week- her father joked about how this is what it felt like being a real worker. She’s not sure she wanted it.

Seiko sucked on her soda until only the grating sound of ice and backwash was left. She spoke up again after a long moment, “Do any of you know if an Annalise Lynne goes to Canyon Creek? That’s the daughter.” They all just exchanged blank looks with each other, Bobby was the first to shrug, “Like I said, I didn’t even know she had a daughter.” Seiko frowned at that, but June sighed exaggeratedly, “I bet she goes to some fancy private school.” She waved her hand in the air, eyes drifting down, “Did you get a new sticker on your bag Seiko?” She changed the subject, “Do you even know who Daft Punk is?”

Seiko turned on her, “Of course I do, and for your information…” The night continued on, bickering and talking and listening to cheesy pizza parlour tunes.

Seiko never found out where Annalise went to school, or if she went to school at all.

——————–

She looks so lonely.

Another blurry, creeping day hit Seiko with long grasping fingers, yanking her out of bed with a groan. She rubbed her eyes, trying to fight through the thin spiderwebs criss-crossing her headspace as she lumbered around the apartment at 5 in the morning.

The first week of Seiko’s new job slipped quickly by and by the second and third she was getting tired, more tired than she thought she could be.

Her dad, once again, told her that ‘this is what being a real working person felt like.’ The joke was getting old. She barely remembered leaving the house and getting to the corner shop, it was all getting old.

Seiko drove her boke dutifully up the hill to Greenbriar, the weather had been getting cooler with each week as Illinois winter bore down, but that day was the exception. It was going to erratically climb up into the high 60s and shine all day, but that was weather for you.

Seiko was barely cognate of her regular route, pedal, place, pedal, wave, accept two dollars, keep going. She didn’t think it would become so rote so fast, but it was just as mindless as her friend Kingsley warned.

He was always warning her about something though, she’d call it a downright nervous disorder if the spirit of one of her auntie’s wouldn’t materialize and pinch her cheek with a ‘be nice Seiko’ from beyond the grave.

She could be nice.

It was on that particularly warm fall day that Seiko was struck with a strange thought, a sticky hard thought that that caught in her mind like a thorn. She approached the wedding-cake house with the girl perched outside like an ever present stone guardian.

She looks so lonely.

It echoed within her.

Seiko wouldn’t call herself particularly perceptive, but that didn’t stop her from looking the girl up and down. She made a stunning pale silhouette against the enormous house with the air of an-fashioned heroine waiting for her family to return from the war.

It’s all so lonely.

Seiko shook her head vigorously, she’s a rich, pretty girl, she’ll be more than fine.

Seiko took the paper out immediately and shuffled up to the house, “Hiya,” she spoke up, remembering herself. “Good morning.”

Annalise’s brow knit together, “good morning.” Seiko shifted from foot to foot, holding the paper aloft. There was another thing she was working up to, maybe this was the right moment. Seiko could be nice. And maybe Annalise would like the conversation.

“So,” she cleared her throat, shifting from side to side. “I have thing.”

Annalise arched an eyebrow up, “What thing?” She asked testily, “Did you rip the paper?”

“No!” Seiko lifted her chin up proudly, “It’s not about papers. I was just wondering,” she took a deep breath in, deciding to do this now. “Have you seen any letters from a Katy Mendoza?” “Who?” Annalise took a step back, wary and eyeing her.

“Katy Mendoza. She writes you letters, I mean, she writes your mom.” She felt the sting of awkwardness rubbing against her skin. Annalise was looking at her like she was growing another head- and that head was ugly. This was a bad idea.

Annalise’s sharp blue eyes penetrated her like a swear word in church: echoing and harsh. Annalise cleared her throat, “We get many letters.”

“She’s my friend,” Seiko went on, “She wants to have her love line read. She’s into that sort of thing, she’s thinks she’ll never find love or something and that Madame Lynne, your mom, can help I guess.” Annalise was still frowning, as if perplexed by a certain math problem or stubborn weed. She put her hand out for the paper, Seiko reluctantly handed it over, wilting in place. That hadn’t gone well.

“Thank you for the paper,” Annalise handed her five dollars. “Have a good day.” Seiko wanted to bury her face in the perfectly manicured grass, what was I thinking? She doesn’t even want to talk to me in general, much less do favors.

Seiko turned to flee to her bike and pedal until her thighs burned away her own fumbling mouth and unnecessary probing.

“And Seiko,” Seiko stopped in place, Annalise hadn’t closed the door yet, voice chasing her. “I will look for your friend’s letter. I won’t forget.” She said, voice measured and whispery. She closed the door swiftly afterward, before Seiko could add anything else.

“Thanks,” Seiko stared blankly back at the large white oak doors and latched golden handles.

Sometimes she thought she saw Annalise watching her from the second story window, stony and frozen in place, hand gently touching the window and following her. Other times she thought it was just her brain conjuring up tales in her head, the type with snow queen’s daughters and fairy gates.

She rode her bicycle away, this whole place is lonely.

The empty lawns and gated homes and featureless driveways go on and on and Seiko wished for a moment she wasn’t a working girl, that she was still in bed waiting for the morning to come.

——————

Life went on.

She was graduating fifth grade that year and it couldn’t have felt like a bigger deal, would she follow her friends to Bristol Middle School or go to the local charter school, Elmswood?

Elmswood had a better reputation, bigger cafeteria, and a soccer team who actually made to the state championships. Then of course some Chicago school would immediately bump them out of state championships, but they still made it all the same.

Seiko wasn’t very good at sticking to sports, or hobbies for that matter, but she was pretty excited for soccer this year. The early-morning biking helped her stamina and game play, the fact she couldn’t actually kick the ball in any desired direction did not.

But Liza Mayweather was captain of the team and she was 5 feet 5 inches of the ‘coolest girl’ Seiko knew. Liza was going to Elmswood.

But then Seiko would have to leave Kingsley, her best friend since kindergarten. They met on the first day, traded chocolate puddings, chased a bouncy ball around for two hours straight together, and had been inseparable ever since. It was a hard choice and wasn’t getting any easier.

Seiko kept her paper route, even as the weather turned for the worse and she already had enough money saved up to buy at the very least a second hand Switch. However, things in the neighbor simply became more and more habitual, familiar.

The people in the brown house had a Saint Bernard named Nooky who was possibly the best creature ever, he gave a world ending ‘boof’ whenever he saw her and Seiko’s heart soared. Mrs. Hankla let her pet him some days.

Several of the houses had outdoor cats who appeared on high fences, fancy-feast enthusiasts who would eye you from afar and daintily get closer and closer each week. She named the white one ‘General Sour Cream’ and the calico one ‘Grand Duchess Granola.’ They were in love.

Less people jogged in the winter, more people greeted her with sleep-crusted eyes and a quick ‘are you alright sweetheart?’

Two different people offered her new gloves to wear. She already had gloves.

Seiko learned about the girl too.

Annalise changed from her pink pajamas to a loose long-sleeved top and soft matching black bottoms. She liked tea, because of course she did, she didn’t like the neighbors mowing their lawns, she liked Seiko’s rainbow fingerless gloves. Or at least, Seiko hoped she did since Annalise kept glancing at them.

Annalise could play the piano, she got headaches easily, and thought anyone who woke up past eight O’Clock had simply already given up on life. She knew name brands, hated fast-fashion, and ran her own ‘Plastic Reduction’ eco-education home page. She gave Seiko a sticker for it.

And that was it.

Seiko assumed there wasn’t anything more to it, and then it was February.

————

Snow fell in wallops of sticky cold droplets that hit unwitting citizens like frigid water balloons from above, half-ice and half-slushy it might as well have been the devil pissing on them. That’s what one of the older kids said on the bus yesterday when it first started.

Seiko repeated it to Kingsley who joined her in giggling into their hands like they said it themselves.

Seiko expected school to be closed the next day, she expected the roads to be shut down and people to be banned from the outdoors like some sort of dangerous zoo enclosure. She expected to drink hot chocolate in bed and watch youtube videos of ‘how it’s made’ all day.

Her alarm rang at 5:45 am anyway. The people needed their news, they needed that fresh headline: It’s Cold as a Witch’s teat in a Brass Bra. Seiko had learned that one on the bus too.

She hadn’t missed a day of work so far and she, for reasons beyond herself, wasn’t going to start now. Her uncle had bought her new boots for her birthday: fur-trimmed with little puff-balls at the end of the shoelaces, he told her to break them in nice and easy. This would have to be the ‘mean and hard’ way instead.

She put on two pairs of socks underneath and went to the doorway.

She stuffed on her oversized ewok hat, a joke-present she got before she turned 11 and too old for that sort of thing. But it was as thick as siberian’s arm hair and the little ears made her feel a little bolder in the furious white morning.

“Where are you going Seiko?” Her mom was also up at 5am, always claiming to be busy with Seiko’s little sister Rei at this hour, but Rei was 2 by then and barely up any more. Their dad swore their mom had insomnia, but her mom would be in her grave before she admitted to that sort of thing.

She looked at Seiko’s fluffy hat and pretended to be busy folding kitchen rags.

“Work mom,” she adjusted her hat and found a large fleece scarf to wrap around her neck.

Her mom sniffed, “Don’t ride your bike.” “I can’t,” Seiko blinked with a grumble, “Too bad out.” “And don’t talk to strangers.” “When do I ever talk to strangers mom?” Seiko retorted with a yawn and a prickle behind her words.

Her mom patted her shoulder, “I’m making leftovers for breakfast. Take a hot shower when you’re back, school isn’t canceled.” “I knoooow,” she moaned and went for the door. “And don’t move my backpack. I got stuff in there and I keep not being able to find it.” “Then don’t leave it where I can kick it.” “Ugh,” she made a face, “bye mom.”

Seiko left before they could get into one of their regular squabbles, the weather didn’t help since Seiko always felt like they were living on top of each other when they got snowed-in. Her family’s apartment was fine, everything worked and the pipes never froze, but it was… tight. It had three rooms, one bathroom, and a tucked away kitchen with no oven. But it was fine, it had a carpet that didn’t static and an outside not completely overcome by hobos or nettles.

It was on the second story of a red-brick apartment building that had a bent TV dish outside and rusty skateboards piling up on the side. The building’s heating worked most the time and the air conditioning worked some of the time.

Between the weeds growing up between cracks and the convenience store that sold cigarettes to anyone not carrying a pacifier, it was fine, everything was fine. Walking over to Greenbriar on the other hand though was crossing between ‘fine’ to the ‘fairygate.’

Seiko collected her wares at the corner shop, Mr. Simmons applauded her for coming in at all and handed her two hot packs for her hands. She didn’t say much back, she didn’t know why she was there either.

She skimmed the paper’s headline: It’s Cold. So Cold, Father Winter is Definitely Passing a Particularly Frigid Gallstone Over Us. Seiko traveled slowly into the fairy hills, covered in powdery white sugar and untouched by the bustling of other determined worker ants, blithely ignoring the coming slush and grime of the town’s roads and sidewalks.

Seiko trudged onward. She forgot her hands, her feet, and everything else in between as she walked, shivered, and delivered.

——

“Attagirl,” Mr. Busby of the brown house and fake teeth handed her a five. He had never done that before. “Good see the youth off their phones and actually doing something.” Seiko just nodded in response and mutely moved to the next house. The street wound on in a dusty blaring-white monotony, almost no one was up to greet her as she placed one plastic-wrapped paper down after the next.

She wasn’t at all surprised to find Annalise Lynne outside when she reached the wedding-cake house. Strangely though, the other girl wasn’t in her usual position next to the door, safe and dry with the usual impassive look on her face.

Seiko’s eyebrows rose, Annalise was bent over the edge of her concrete porch, squinting out at her snowy domain. She had pink boots stuffed over her feet and a yellow umbrella shielding her from the onslaught of slushy snow from up above.

She was bundled up underneath the umbrella and looking nervously at the ground, lips pinched together and expression shadowed, whole body as tense as a stretched rubber band.

Seiko tilted her head to the side, pausing for a long second. Annalise shifted in place, worry-lines permeating her young face.

“Uh,” Seiko hurried up the girl’s vast driveway, “How’s it going Annalise?” Her voice sounded rusted and stiff to her own ears as she asked.

Annalise blinked up, her expression noticeably strained. “Nothing,” she murmured quietly and then looked back to the snowbanks, clutching the umbrella. She glanced up unseeingly, “You must be cold.” Seiko furrowed her brow, “Yeah.” She scratched her chin, “It’s cold.” Seiko just nodded, sniffing slightly, “The last boy would never come in weather like this.” Her gaze was still trained away from her. “Thank you for your service.” Whenever she said that Seiko felt like a war veteran being thanked at an airport by a white woman who bought in bulk from costco. She just nodded again.

“Is… everything okay? Do you need,” Seiko searched the ground, “Help?” She offered weakly since it seemed like the thing to do.

Annalise finally looked up again, “I’m capable of handling it,” she clutched the umbrella and reached absently up to her ear. There was a small empty hole there. She frowned, “But…” She met her eyes briefly, “if you see a blue diamond earring then, well,” she bit her lip, “let me know.” Seiko journeyed the little way up to the side of the porch, the overhang finally protecting her from the soggy snowfall. “Blue earring?” Annalise nodded shallowly, barely tilting her head down, “it looks like a snowdrop.” Her hands bleached on the umbrella handle, “and my mom’s going to freaking kill me for losing it.” Seiko stood up straight at that statement, the words strangely out of place and striking. My mom’s going to freaking kill me. What?

“Hey, watch my papers,” Seiko pushed her pack toward the dry doorway. “I once found my sister’s binky in a playground ball pit.”

Annalise looked up sharply, “Seiko Toyomi, I can’t,” she said quickly, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

Seiko made a face at her, “You can just call me Seiko,” she wrinkled her nose, “and it’s not a big deal, honest. Did you lose it around here?” Annalise looked away, cheeks burning a bland red, like her face wasn’t accustomed to any color at all. “Maybe…” She said slowly, “Last night I went out here to look at the snowfall and,” She said haltingly and felt at her ear, “When I woke up this morning I realized I didn’t have one of my earrings. Ugh.” She growled in the back of her throat, “Stupid, stupid. She’ll be so mad.” Seiko cocked her eyebrows up, “When does your mom normally wake up?” Annalise frowned, “She had a late show last night,” her shoulders relaxed, “So she’ll be out for at least a little longer, maybe even 7:30.” Seiko smiled, “Alright!” She hopped into the nearest snow pile, sinking into the layering ice and sleet. “Let’s get looking.” Annalise watched her carefully, “… Thank you.” She spoke softly, clearly, searching Seiko’s face for a moment before nodding, “Check by the flower bed.” Annalise leaned off the stoop and pointed, “It would be somewhere close to the bottom.” Seiko got to work sifting through the piles of wet slush, her gloves soaking through and eyes straining against the pure white mass. “Are you sure it fell here?” “No,” Annalise pointed to her right, “check over there.” They hurried, Annalise pointing and Seiko kicking and churning her way around the yard.

“No, no, not there, that’s too far,” Annalise huffed after several minutes, breath coming out in puffy little clouds. She stood up in place, “This will take too long. One second, wait here.” Seiko looked up brightly, “What?” She cocked an eyebrow up at her, “Also, for the record, I’m doing this to be nice. Friendly. Polite, stop glaring at me.” “I’m not glaring,” Annalise snapped and looked to the door, “I’m just… frustrated.” She scuffed her boot on the ground and then looked back up, “I’m going to help. One second.” “Okay?” Seiko had figured Annalise was too delicate or soft or perfectly-moisturized to wade into the clingy snow with her and help dig. That’s what you hired paper girls for.

Annalise tossed her umbrella aside and swung open her house door, Seiko peaked into the dim foyer: huge and holding a grand staircase. Seiko just blinked at it as the other girl ran back inside.

Seiko told herself she was just being nice. It was the right thing to do. She wasn’t here to be a looky loo, especially since her mother would never let her live it down if she was. They weren’t the type of family to get fascinated by pop stars or celebrities or late night TV show psychics.

Or their strange daughters.

Seiko stood in the bitter wind, shivering slightly and glancing at her undelivered papers. They were all definitely late.

But maybe the neighbors would forgive her for a snow-storm delay.

Seiko watched the family’s big doors for another minute, waiting for something. Did Annalise abandon her to the cold and needle-in-a-haystack quest? Should she leave?

Just as she was thinking about getting her pack and being on her way, Annalise strode calmly back outside. Seiko stopped in place as she did, “Oh my God.”

Annalise lifted her chin with a sniff. “Don’t laugh.”

Annalise was wearing what looked like a plastic beekeepers helmet, yellow cleaning gloves secured by rubber bands, two winter coats covered by a teal rain jacket, and what looked like shiny waterproof ski pants. She even wore plastic bags over her winter boots- also secured by rubber bands.

Seiko ended up covering her mouth and snickering.

Annalise’s face glowed red, “I don’t like getting wet!”

Seiko laughed into her hands, “No, no, I get it.” She giggled, “It’s just… okay.” Annalise put her hands on her hips, “Are you here to help or make fun of me?” Seiko gave a cheeky grin, “Can I do both? Because… that’s a bee helmet.” Annalise tilted her chin up with a frown, “No, we’re not that familiar yet.” Seiko shrugged and bent down again, “How familiar does a newspaper girl and her house-deliverees have to be?”

“Well I’ll tell you when we’re there, then you can laugh I suppose.” Annalise shuffled forward, weighed down by her various clothes. “Though your assistance will be noted.” Seiko shrugged, “Don’t mention it.” Annalise teetered on the edge of her porch, looked closely at all the snow, like it was a freezing lake she was preparing herself to jump buck-naked into. Seiko gave her a funny look, “Are you waiting for something?” Annalise shot her an unreadable glance, unnervingly blank. Then she widened her stance, took a deep breath, exhaled, and did a short flailing hop into the snow.

She landed, hands out and eyes screwed shut, whole body star-fished out as if to keep everything away. She opened her eyes slowly.

“Oh,” she shivered and then turned around in a tight circle, kicking a nearby pile of snow, “Oh!”

Seiko knit her brow together, Annalise expression had opened up into a strange erratic joy- fascinated by the mounds of white fluff. “Oh this is very good.”

“Yes?” Seiko watched Annalise gawk and poke at the piles, picking up a handful of the stuff and throwing it in the air. “Look at that!” It fell in lumps down and she beamed, kicking another pile over.

Seiko waited for a while before clearing her throat. “Um,” she looked around, “Are you not allowed to play in the snow?” She had a weird feeling about the answer.

Annalise’s guarded eyes flicked in her direction, she straightened up. “I just… don’t do it often.” She bent down again like a robot given a sudden direction, “Alright, where have you already searched?”

Seiko pointed to several locations around the porch and they got to work again, pointing and guessing and carefully searching. The snowfall slowly dwindled, turning from fat wet balls into tiny dandelion fluffs. Faint rays of sun finally broke out into a sleek grey morning, weak and barely there like the wheezing breaths of a forgotten old man.

Seiko was starting to get a headache from the glare of the endless white, she finally sat back on her haunches and turned to the other girl. “What will happen if you don’t find it?” Annalise froze mid-sift, eyes cast down, “my mom,” she clenched her teeth, “will be really pissed.” “Oh,” Seiko could only guess at what that meant for her. Grounding? Pony privileges revoked? A dungeon? Who knew.

“They were for my birthday,” she continued bitterly, “she was so excited to give them to me. Said it was some milestone.” Annalise shook her head, “Goddammit.” Seiko giggled at that.

“What?” Annalise glanced at her. “What is it?” “Nothing,” Seiko kept running her fingers through the layers, “it’s just, you know, you don’t seem like the type to curse.” She snorted, “Too prim.” Annalise paused at that, giving Seiko a hard long look. Then, she drew herself up, standing tall, squaring her shoulders, and making herself big and solid. She held Seiko’s gaze as a lion would before jumping through a fiery hoop. “FUCK.” Seiko burst into a side-splitting laugh, rich and spilling out her from her insides like a warm river, she held her sides and rolled back in the snow, “Oh my god.” “Shit!”

“No wait,” she laughed, “stop.” “Bastard baby idiot!”

Seiko waved her hand through the air, “You’ve proved it, you’ve proved it.” Seiko wiped at her eyes and couldn’t miss the pleased smile crossing Annalise’s face, terribly satisfied with itself.

“Well. Now you know.” She flattened down her bloated jacket like it was a fine party dress. Seiko couldn’t stop laughing, she turned over in place. “You showed me. I’ve learned a lot today.” Annalise hummed and looked her over, “you’re a strange girl.” “Me?” Seiko’s face lit up and she kept snickering, “Me?” “Yes,” Annalise delicately picked through some more snow. “All… those outfits you wear and bike riding. You go so fast, where is your helmet?” “You sound like my mom,” Seiko grumbled, but she was still smiling. “You’re the one who lives in a huge house with a psychic mom. And no one’s even heard of you, do you go to some fancy boarding school or something? With like, uniforms and everything. I bet it’s in England.” And maybe with wizards and sorting hats and dragons, Seiko had theories.

Annalise didn’t look up, her expression downcast and eyes uneasy. “Well,” she folded into herself. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just homeschooled.” “Oh,” Seiko blinked a couple times, that wasn’t what she imagined. It wasn’t how she imagined homeschool kids looked or how she imagined Annalise spent her days.

Annalise met her eyes tentatively, “You go to the school down the way,” Annalise touched her elbow, “Do you like it?” Seiko wasn’t sure how to answer that, did she like it? She didn’t know. It’s just what she did, it’s what everyone did, it’s not something you liked or didn’t, you just did it- like your laundry or the dishes.

“I guess?” She itched her nose, “I like PE and science class. Sometimes I like art, but Miss Shaw is kind of an old bag, she keeps telling me I draw without purpose. Whatever that means.” “Right,” Annalise looked away, as if that wasn’t what she was looking for.

“Right,” Seiko turned away, unable to hold on to whatever this was. She was about to tell Annalise to maybe secretly buy another pair of earrings and get rush delivery. And then she saw something glittering in the snow.

“Woah,” she reached down, following the reflection- a silver glare catching the light. “Oh man.” She picked up a blue-diamond, shaped as a perfect snowdrop with a silver back and little delicate outline.

It looked like something a prince might give a princess for her hand in marriage or a charm to ward off warlocks and ugly curses. It caught the light like a bird song and Seiko has to gape at the thing for a second.

She never got into ‘stuff,’ how could she? She could afford fingerless rainbow gloves and novelty t-shirts and the occasional ewok hat, but they weren’t like this. Nothing was like this.

“Here,” Seiko pushed it away from herself as if it burned, swallowing some bile in her throat she couldn’t name. She wasn’t going to own something like that, even if she got a silly boyfriend or big wedding, she knew that.

Annalise took it, cradling it in her clumsy gloved hands. “Thank you,” she said breathlessly, “Thank you so much.” Seiko thought she saw Annalise’s eyes go damp and slightly red, but it was hard to tell. Seiko just patted her knee, “No big deal,” she shrugged, “Pissing off your parents sucks.” And it doesn’t look like you have anyone else.

Seiko didn’t think of herself as observant or thoughtful or any of those ‘ding’ words, but Annalise looked up at her and Seiko felt like something, someone, after all.

Annalise put her hand out, “I can’t repay you enough.” For some reason, they shake, there in the snow and weak light and undelivered newspapers. “Let me get you some tea or dry gloves or anything.” Seiko just sniffed and looked away, “Nah.” She dusted herself off and got up again, “Just don’t complain about me and the gate or how I bike and all that stuff.” She winked, “I’m the good samaritan here.” “Yes, yes you are,” Annalise’s eyes go soft and she stood up after her. “Let me get you som-” And maybe she would have gotten her something, but they both heard footsteps from inside, “Annalise?” A voice called, “Honey?”

Annalise froze like she was a burglar caught in police headlights, “I gotta go.” They both tore away in opposite directions, though Seiko didn’t know what she was running for, she looked over to shoulder to see Annalise ripping off her plastic gloves and heavy coat, eyes wild with something.

Seiko hurried away with her pack at her side and a few missed calls from various adults. School had been canceled after all. And where was she? She should have been back then. And so on.

Seiko was wet and cold and achy when she returned, limbs heavy as stones and trembling on their own. Her thoughts endlessly started churning, taking apart what just happened. Annalise in the snow, her face as bright as an expanding star.

Annalise as frightened as a hare in a claw trap, Annalise cradling the blue diamond and on the verge of tears, Annalise looking at her.

She’s just another girl, she reminded herself, and I’m just being a good person.

She closed her eyes and put her head against the shower wall, hot water ran over her back and she exhaled, it was a day worth more than she knew.

—————

Annalise started to open up more to her each time she visited, as if finding her earring had turned Seiko from ‘alien service worker’ into ‘acceptable stranger on my porch.’

She started chatting, about the weather, about the Chicago Cubs (Annalise liked them for some reason), about the neighborhood and what size dog was ideal. Seiko said the bigger the dog the better, Annalise thought that if it couldn’t fit in a children’s swing it was too big.

Seiko started to worry more, that Annalise wasn’t allowed to play in the snow, that she wasn’t allowed to lose things. That she wasn’t outside anymore.

There wasn’t much she could do though and worrying didn’t stop time from passing like slowly dripping candle wax. Winter turned to spring and Seiko cut her hair again as her graduated into 6th grade, she was starting to like the short look.

“So you’re going to ‘Elmswood’,” Annalise said one day, bits of summer sun streaking across her cheek and eyes unreadable.

“Sure,” Seiko shrugged, “I mean, I think the soccer team will be cool and they have an actual film club instead of just one kid running a movie review column in the school paper.” “So?” Annalise still seemed bemused by everything about her.

“Plus, I mean, it’ll be nice,” Seiko put her hands in her pockets, “Maybe I can start over, ya know? Most the kids in my class won’t be going there,” she stood all the way up, “I’ll be the cool new kid.” Annalise somehow gave her an even more bemused look, “Are you not cool?” She asked dryly.

Seiko stuck her tongue out, “… not cool cool. People like Liza are cool,” she paused for a long second, frowning, then looked up again, “but I feel like me and Liza could really click next year if I go.” Annalise leaned back on her heels, “Be careful Seiko,” she said, her voice dull, flat, and fluttering out of her lips. “Girls like her may be just as the seem and nothing more.” “What?” She made a face, “What? They seem really cool and are?” Seiko just snorted, “You should get out more…” She took a step forward, hunching her shoulders slowly, “you could come too. Maybe you’d actually like it.” Annalise shook her head, as if breaking out of a daze. “Where?” “Elmswood,” she said simply, “I mean, June is going too. Who is the worst and won’t stop bringing up every embarrassing thing that’s ever happened, but it’s fine. We could gang up against her.” She gave a devilish grin, “You could tell her some bogus fortune like her life line has a huge rude gorilla in her future.” Annalise frowned deeply and looked down at her knees, “I can’t.” She said simply, “I do school here.” “But-” “I can’t.” She said sternly and took her newspaper inside without another word.

The conversation ended for that day.

—————–

Time seemed so slow when she was young, but it passed just as it always did: one drop at a time. She graduated elementary school, spent a summer lazing around the pool and trying out things like rollerblading and science camp. She scraped her knees at both and said she wasn’t ever going back.

Her uncle gave her a cheap camera to take videos on, it was better than her phone and she became obsessed with dressing her sister up and filming her destroying cereal-box cities.

She kept her delivery route, Bobby quit that year and Seiko got a raise, she kept attending monthly pizza nights. Mr. Simmons added brownies to the meal, he winked and said ‘not the type you kids like though.’ He was still somehow convinced they were preteens with a thing for weed.

Seiko felt like she knew everything and absolutely nothing.

Liza Mayweather seemed excited to start Elmswood with her, Seiko didn’t know what to make of that. She entered Middle School with new ripped jeans, a skrillex t-shirt, and knock-off vans, sick with excitement, but fall soon sunk into normalcy.

She was the worst player on the soccer team, but they gave her the job of taking videos for the games, she started editing them to Queen songs and shatter sound effects. The girls laughed themselves silly when she added fake bloopers and ‘mm whatya say’ whenever they missed a goal.

Her sister turned 3 and her mother fretted about her speaking properly and walking and potty-training and everything she could fret about. Kingsley wrote Seiko a heavily worded text about not spending enough time together and ‘forgetting him.’ Seiko broke out the ‘super pinky promise’ to assure him they weren’t going anywhere. She got a hairline fracture on her wrist from a bike crash.

She wore a helmet after that.

Annalise, Annalise remained the same. A picture on her porch, in a variety of pajamas and flat expressions, sometimes she showed her new earrings or a good book she read.

Sometimes Annalise started speaking so quickly and emphatically that Seiko couldn’t stop her, like an overflowing dam. Sometimes she barely said anything at all, dark sleepless bruises under her eyes and something bumpy under her words.

“Are you writing on yourself?” Seiko pointed out one day, looking at a few words printed over Annalise wrist, inky and precise, Annalise quickly left after that.

She was still a strange girl in a strange house. And it didn’t change.

——————

Seiko was 13, it was the second semester of 7th grade. She was breaking out on her chin, sweating through her shirts, and wearing lumpy sports bras that made her feel like a padded grandma. She had refused to let the fitting-room lady measure her so she just guessed her size and fled like The Other Man out of his lover’s bedroom window.

Her mother gave her the longest lecture of her life about periods and babies, Seiko turned two shades of green and swore up and down that this didn’t have anything to do with her. Her mom gave a tampon demonstration.

Liza got a boyfriend. No one else did.

And something changed.

Seiko’s mom said she was getting too old for paper routes, but Seiko kept on, she knew the way, she knew the drill, it was fine money. June quit the paper route that year, so it was just her, Katy, and all the new kids they started to ignore.

And something changed.

It was spring, smelling green and loud and filled with a type of hope that carried on with arbitrary spinning of the world into the sun. Seiko had a history report due and a split-lip from a soccer ball to the face, she barely looked at the houses she delivered to anymore.

Annalise was standing at the edge of her porch, an enormous smile spread across her usually grim features. She waved excitedly when Seiko arrived.

“Come come,” she leaned forward on her tiptoes and gestured, “Come up, I have news.” Seiko raised her eyebrows, “Oh?” Annalise bounced in place, she seemed more full today, like the light had been pumped back into her. Seiko reached the side of the porch, Annalise clapped her hands together, “I got your friend in.” She burst out like a party popper, like Seiko would know what that meant. Seiko tried to smile back, “You got my… friend in?” She wracked her brain for what that could mean.

Annalise visibly sagged, “You don’t remember.” Seiko put her hands up, “No, no, just… jog my memory maybe?” Annalise gave a forceful sigh, “You don’t remember.” It looked like an out-and-out pout.

Seiko leaned on the side of the porch, “Tell me about,” she grinned and rose up toward Annalise, “kids these days, amiright? Can’t remember a thing without smartphones.”

Annalise gave a quick smile and then trained herself back into a pout, “You’re the one that told me about her.” She folded her arms over her chest.

Annalise blinked a couple times, “Who?” She couldn’t even place a name.

“Katy Mendoza!” She said clippedly, “You had me dig up all her letters years ago.” Seiko’s mouth fell open, “You actually looked for them?” “Of course I did,” Annalise defended, lifting her chin up and looking away, “no faith.” Seiko lit up, “You actually looked for them!”

Annalise huffed, “All for nothing it seems.” “No, no,” she tossed the paper on their doorstep to pay proper attention to Annalise, “You, you got her a spot?” Annalise grew a slim smile, almost sly. “It took awhile. My mom has a long waiting list, but, well,” she puffed up, “That girl kept sending letters and I kept putting them at top of the stack.” She grinned widely, “It finally paid off.” “Wow!” Annalise clapped, she hadn’t talked to Katy in three weeks, but still. “Woah, that’s so cool! You made it happen.” Annalise fluffed her hair, “Of course I did.” They both laughed and spring seemed more spring than it did before. “Watch tonight,” Annalise beamed, chest puffed out. “Yeah, of course,” Seiko nodded so hard she thinks pez candies might start shooting of out her neck, “I will!”

Annalise seemed to have a long memory, longer than hers, and she preened like a shiny hen at a peacock competition.

—————–

Seiko was 13 and lying on her stomach in front of the TV. They had gotten more channels in the last few years, her little sister liked PBS and their mom compromised.

“Don’t forget,” her mom called from the kitchen, “it’s your night to put the dishes away.” “I know mom,” she called back, “It’s just a half-hour program.” Her mom walked back and forth between rooms, “And put away your cleats.” “I already did!” “Then what did I just step on in the hallway?” They were still in the same smarmy small apartment.

“Ugh,” Seiko quickly got to her feet and rushed to put her cleats back in her room, just as the psychic’s jingle came on.

‘Your future is waiting, your future is written. Sit down with Madame Lynn and hear the infinite.’

It reminded her of a slightly more-spooky car sales jingle.

“Are you really watching this?” Her mom stood on the cusp of the living room, taking the time to stop and comment.

“A friend is on.” Katy had almost fainted when she was told she would actually be on TV. That she would find out about her love line, solve her heart’s sickness and find out the truth- apparently she had never given up on that.

Seiko placed herself in front of the screen, propped up and focused. Rei sat in the other room  and audibly baballed a very long story to their father about animals and bugs she had recently seen. Her father clapped along at every other full sentence and Seiko turned the volume up.

The stage was brightly lit and a dark velvet screen filled the background, a single plain table sat in the center of the space, it was covered in a red cloth decorated with various symbols. She recognized some of them as Kanji and even hindu script, Seiko snorted at that.

The unseen announcer reminded her the show was filmed in front of a live audience. The town of Rogers was waiting.

A woman walked on, she was tall and upright and slightly ‘handsome’ if you would use that word. She wore a long burnt-orange silk scarf around her black hair, enormous round glasses, and a deep maroon shawl around her thin shoulders. Seiko had seen her around on local signs and a couple video clips, but it had never occurred to her that this woman didn’t look terribly like Annalise.

Her complexion was darker (which wasn’t hard), her eyes were deeper set in her face and features pasted on at different mismatching angles. She looked like a collaborative art piece from college students whereas Annalise reminded her of a classical European painting.

Though, of course, Madame Lynne’s entire demeanor and disjointed look fit her persona, the smalltown psychic with otherworldly powers. Despite the cheesy effects, numerous gaudy bangles, and over-the-top opera gloves she wore, Seiko could see why people thought she was a witch.

She carried herself like that, like some other strange force swept across the stage, swaying and stalking over like a suave cat.

“She’s such a hack,” Seiko’s mom tutted from the background. “I’ve seen those tarot card she uses online. They aren’t even an original set.”

“Sshhush,” Seiko waved her hand through the air frantically, “it’s about to start.” Her mom just humphed but didn’t move to leave.

Madame Lynne looked directly at the camera as she spoke, solid and imposing. That part reminded her of Annalise at least. “We have a special guest tonight, an anxious soul in need,” Madame Lynne’s ghostly voice rang out, enrapturing and deep. “A young woman with woes and a heart full to bursting. Her path ahead is uncertain and she has come to us for counsel, a dedicated fan and Rogers local, please welcome Katy Mendoza!”

Katy walked onto stage with her huge eyes and quivering lips and mousy nose, she looked just as unsure of herself on TV as she did everywhere else. She picked her way across the stage and took her time sitting down, trembling slightly.

“I’m such a big fan of yours Madame Lynne,” she whispered in her cricket voice, the microphone had been placed extra high on her collar. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I’m sure my dear,” she patted her hand warmly, “I’m happy to help.” The show preceded much as Seiko assumed it would. Katy gushed to the psychic, explaining her heart’s dilemma: that no one had ever like her, that she was too ugly and shy and would never find love.

Madame Lynne assured her that she was lovely and that anyone who valued her outsides more than her insides weren’t worth her time. Seiko liked that part, Katy brimmed with some fragile hope and a watery heartfelt smile played across her face whenever Madame Lynne spoke. That was something.

And then they got to the reading.

Seiko understood very little of it, she had gone through a brief witch phase herself but most of it had been reading about the occult and trying to summon cthulhu. She hadn’t gotten to tarot.

Madame Lynne brought out her stack of shiny golden cards and shuffled them in place, her long fingers quick and fastidious, almost mesmerizing as she began to hum. This was the pinnacle of the whole show, Seiko watched in a trance.

Katy drew six cards and Madame Lynne placed them out across the table methodically, explaining each card’s meaning in relation to Katy’s past and present. Seiko glazed over during this part, most of it she already knew: a controlling father, several nervous habits, a desperate wish for confidence. Seiko understood. However, Katy started weeping when she pulled out the sixth card and final card, it was revealed to be the ten of pentacles.

“It’s certain,” Madame Lynne held her hands and patted the top, “This reading is clear: true love is certain.”

Katy let out a hiccuping sob and wiped at her eyes, Seiko smiled a real smile for the other girl instead of rolling her eyes. Love wasn’t exactly on Seiko’s ‘important things’ list, but this felt like something else.

“Will I have kids?” Katy asked next in a small voice, “And a house with a yard? For my daughter to run around in.” Madame Lynne blinked a couple times, confused for a moment, then probably broke some sort of rule and held out the cards once more, “Let’s find out. Hold your question clearly in your mind and pick another.” Katy bit her lip, concentrating for a full minute, she drew a seventh card. It had a shimmery large wheel in the center, someone in the audience gasped. It was the wheel of fortune, Madame Lynne frowned, “It is uncertain.” “Oh…” Katy hung her head, face falling.

“But don’t fret young dear,” Madame Lynne reassured, “your future is your own. If you want a daughter, you may certainly still have one.” Katy looked back at Madame Lynne, fixedly, worshipfully. Seiko had an odd feeling about this.

“Did it work out for you Madame, do you have any kids?” She asked earnestly. Seiko’s mouth fell open, no doubt Katy remembered the conversation they had all those years ago. “Did you want them too?” Madame faltered for the first time that night, a sudden slippage of her expression and poise, heavy brow furrowing. “Well,” she folded her hands in the lap and then reverted to calm smile, maternal even. “Yes, how perceptive you are. I also wanted a daughter, much like you.” She leaned over to pet Katy’s hair, Katy leaned into it.

“And you got her? It worked out.” Katy nodded as if that answered everything. Madame Lynne gave a heavy sigh, “You’re future is your own, young one.” She said slowly, “But it was not to be for me. I wanted a daughter, yes, but I’m afraid it never materialized in my fortunes. My flock are my children now.” Seiko froze in place, didn’t have a daughter? Why would she say that? Of course she had a daughter, Seiko had been chatting with every week since she was 10.

“But I thought… you had one?” Katy seemed confused, a murmur went through the crowd, something was off.

Seiko’s eyes bulged at the whole affair, Madame Lynne looked dead into the camera, cutting and direct, somehow loaded. “I’m not sure where you got that idea…” Seiko’s heart dropped, she breathed in through her nose and felt somewhat chilled. What did that even mean? Why would Madame Lynne not acknowledge Annalise? Seiko’s head spun and she quickly turned off the TV, not even finishing the program. Something was off.

—————–

Seiko reluctantly approached the wedding-cake house the next day, feet scraping against the pavement and path zig-zagging. She’d chosen not to ride her bike that day, even if walking was the equivalent of taking a rowboat when a speedboat was available.

I don’t have a daughter.

Seiko still had no idea what that meant. Was Madame Lynne hiding her? Was Seiko mistaken about the house? Had she been seeing things?

Seiko had a couple new things in her search history, such as ‘Signs You Are Actually Communing with the Dead’ and ‘How Good is Recent Hologram Technology?’ She almost asked her mom if she had ever had vivid hallucinations growing up.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

She took her time unlatching the large iron gate and closing it behind her, sneaking onto the property with light feet. She kept her eyes trained on the stoic grey house as she approached. There was no one outside that morning, no one in sight at all, that was very very out of the ordinary.

Seiko’s shoulders rose like the haunches of spooked cats, she drew closer sluggishly, had something gone wrong? She made it to the front porch and slid the newspaper toward the door in the way a blackjack dealer slides cards to players about to bust. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door finally swung open, Annalise hurried out onto the porch as usual, cheeks slightly flushed.

“There you are,” She blinked a couple times.

“Annalise!” Seiko clutched her heart as the other girl appeared.

Annalise just leaned over the porch, “Did you see the show last night?” “I-I did,” Seiko bit her lip, fishing for the words to say next. Your mother tells people you don’t exist. That seemed like a bad place to start.

“I hope you liked it.” Another voice input from behind the doorway, deep and direct. If seeing Annalise that morning was disconcerting, seeing Madame Lynne hovering behind her in the doorway was even more so. She was wearing a deep blue bathrobe, a towel over her black hair and several fat rings on her fingers, her makeup was gone and so were her huge glasses.

She seemed plain now, no less spooky and uncanny, but more simple. She frowned slightly and fixed Seiko with a hard look, Seiko squirmed in place.

“Here’s your paper ma’am!” She shoved the power toward the woman. “I hope you’re having a good morning.” She was suddenly sure she was sweating through her lumpy sports bra.

“Indeed,” Madame Lynne’s lip curled back, brown eyes narrowing. Annalise stood uncomfortably between them as they exchanged a charged look. “I’m glad my daughter has friends.” Seiko blinked blankly at that, the back of her neck prickling.

“But, please, be mindful.” Madame Lynne put one bony hand on Annalise’s cheek, dragging her fingers down in a caress. “She’s my only daughter and I treasure her, her constitution is… weak.” Madame Lynne pursed her lips, “And we are a private family.” The older woman seemed to be nudging at something Seiko didn’t quite grasp, Seiko kept meeting her gaze and looking sheepishly away again. “I… I understand.” She didn’t understand. “Good,” Madame Lynne straightened up, “I hope you won’t go spreading any rumors then our little paper girl.” She smiled toothily, “Apparently the town already thinks I’m a witch. And a bad one at that!” She laughed richly and Seiko tried to join in.

“They do say… silly things.” Seiko was starting to suspect this woman was a witch.

“We’ll have to see you tomorrow then Seiko,” Madame Lynne reached for the door, “Say goodbye now Annalise.” Annalise waved limply, looking rather off-put. “See you Seiko.” Seiko waved back, wondering if she should mouth something or break into interpretive dance, but the door swung shut and Seiko was left there- confused and little taken back.

We’re a private family.

Seiko still had questions.

—————–

Madame Lynne chaperoned their conversations from then on, showing up at the door in her  lofty imperial bathrobe and lingering just behind Annalise. Seiko had no idea why.

Their conversations became a lot more bland and short, about the weather or the morning headline or even schoolwork of all things. Annalise was learning advanced algebra apparently, because of course she was.

Madame Lynne took up a lot of the space.

‘I hear you’re on the soccer team Seiko.’

‘I hear you struggle in social studies, perhaps give this book a try…’

‘I hear you like movies.’

Like, yes? Of course she liked movies. Seiko barely had any proper answers, it felt like she was filling in multiple choice bubbles and it kept coming up red ink. She fumbled through nonetheless and then left. Somedays Annalise didn’t speak at all.

—————

Time slipped by, Seiko got caught up in school drama, after school practice, and her little sister’s new nightmares about a jello monster that lived under their carpet.

She was 14 and in the last year of Middle School, she already knew she was going to Dale High school with all the other Elmswood students this time.

It was the tailend of winter, a grey day, grey and quiet and her feet crunched through the two inches of snow with every step. She was no longer ten and filled with bustling excitement, she was used to waking up at 5am, but that didn’t mean she liked it anymore.

Seiko yawned with enough force to suck in a small planet and barely noticed where she threw the newspapers anymore. Her aim was good enough, but they usually bounced and it was up to God and Jesus Christ where they landed after that.

She yawned again and checked her cellphone. Maria was mad at Cynthia for talking to her boyfriend last night after the game, but it’s not like Cynthia started it. He talked to her first and she was just laughing at his jokes to be polite.

The group chat went on and on, Seiko wished they could just go back to sending memes and silly pictures of their coach. But Cynthia had apparently also tugged on Matt’s sleeve and put a hand on his chest, people were taking sides.

Seiko was caught up in the drama of the little team when she reached the wedding-cake house. It was empty that morning and Seiko frowned, preparing herself for another brief ‘mom conversation.’

She reached the door and put the paper neatly down, raising her eyebrows when no one greeted her at all, all the lights were off. She took a second to dawdle and stand there. This was different.

She was about to turn around and stomp her way to the next house when the door finally swung open.

“Good morning,” Madame Lynne stood in the doorway, black bangs loose and smile plastered across her face unevenly. “Annalise is sick this morning, but she sends her regards.” Seiko just nodded, bobbing her head a bit to try and see past Madame Lynne, someone was standing on the stairs. Madame Lynne took a step to block her view.

“Have a nice day now Seiko.” Seiko shifted again, the figure on the stairs shifted as well, a pair of pale legs came into view. They looked off- dented, shadowed, Madame Lynne raised her arms up, the wings of bathrobe block the whole view.

“Yes ma’am,” she finally said, “Tell Annalise to get better soo-” The door closed in her face before she even finished the sentence. There were quick footsteps from inside but nothing more.

Seiko sniffed loudly and turned. She was thinking of quitting her paper route.

She was almost in high school after all.

She didn’t see Annalise after that.

————–

“You’re turning fifteen,” her mom was folding laundry on the couch. “You’ll need a real job this summer.” “I have a real job mom, I get tips.” Seiko folded her socks haphazardly and then moved onto the next pair. “And I told you, I don’t know.” “Don’t know what?” Her mom frowned sourly, “That bike of yours is rusting and your father is too old to keep repairing it for you.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “I walk most days now anyway.” She shook her head.

“Well,” her mom hummed loudly, “Why walk when you could drive?” Seiko sat all the up, hands falling down to her lap as her mom said it. “Seriously?” Her face lit up, “It’s time? You’ll teach me?” Seiko’s parents hadn’t mentioned anything about her driving yet, even as all the other kids started to get lessons.

Her mom tilted her chin up proudly, “Driving is a privilege,” Seiko vibrated in place at that, “And for girls who need to get places. Such as to real jobs. Did you know my friend at the grocery store is hiring?” Seiko just nodded emphatically, “Awesome! Yes.”

She would be in high school in just one month, Seiko decided she needed a cooler persona beyond ‘delivery girl who owned a camera and sucked at soccer.’ Now she could be the girl who drove her parents 1999 beat-up corolla.

Or at the very least didn’t bike to school every day.

——————-

“Yes, ma’am, this is my last day.” Seiko gave her most winning smile to old Mrs. Hankla, the paperbag-textured woman humphed, frowned, and told her to wait there a moment. Mrs. Hankla put down her watering hose and went inside without turning it off. She came back outside with a twenty.

“Buy yourself something nice,” Mrs. Hankla seemed to swat the air in front of her and handed the bill over, “and don’t go spending it on candy and chocolates for some boy. That’s how they get ‘ya.”

“Oh yeah, I hear you,” Seiko laughed and pocketed the money as she was on her way. “Thanks Miss H!” She called, “Look after Nooky for me.” The woman just grunted in reply and it was like every other morning, but now she had a twenty.

A surprising number of people were up and about that morning, preening their lawns, checking their mail languidly, and stretching for a morning run. It was one of the last weeks of summer and everyone from sports nuts to grumpy dads in nothing but boxer shorts were enjoying the final days of truly delicious sunshine.

Seiko even had a little hop in her step, it was her last round ever and her first job really had treated her well. Even if she had become later and later with each year, did people really need their papers at 6am sharp? Not according to her they didn’t.

Seiko climbed the small hill and tried not to think about the middle house on Townshend street. The one that looked like a wedding cake.

It’s just another house, she told herself carefully. It’s not even goodbye forever.

She opened the fairygate slowly and carefully made her way up, the white doors were closed with no one there to greet her. But that had become normal.

Seiko placed the paper down and lingered at the door for another moment, was it rude to knock? Was it more rude to not tell them? She impulsively reached out, “Hi Lynne’s!” She knocked three times, “I just wanted to tell you, this is my last day.” She nodded at herself, “It’s been nice being your paper girl! Our talks have been nice, I mean, I hope… well I hope you have a nice day! Tell Annalise…” She petered out, she didn’t know what to tell Annalise. I hope you find a way out of this house? I hope one day you look a little less lonely? Someone cares about you?

Her heart sank, she couldn’t say that.

“Bye!” She finished lamely and turned to leave, squishing down any lingering emotions of what this would mean. She quickly skid down the driveway and back toward the road, she had her rounds to finish.

Seiko half-expected the door to open or a voice to call after her at the last second, nothing but silence and bird calls chased her down the road and around the corner.

Seiko finished delivering her last paper and loitered at the end of Greenbriar, taking one last look at her old stomping grounds. She turned her phone camera around: very last day at my childhood job!! She captioned a snapchat with her empty bag and threw up a peace sign for the hell of it.

That’s when a series of hurried footsteps thumped down the sidewalk, clumsy and stumbling on the pavement. Seiko whipped around to see a young woman in soft white pants and an overly-large apricot sweater standing there. Seiko jammed her phone in her pocket and stood up straight.

Her curls were longer, softly falling past her shoulders and down her back, she was taller as well, taller than Seiko by then. Puberty had seemed to hit her like a lovers kiss, all sweet clean skin and swan-length limbs. Brushstrokes of youth whereas Seiko felt like puberty had swung at her wildly with a baseball bat: all hairy legs and spotty acne and terrifying vivid red dreams you couldn’t repeat to anyone.

Seiko’s mouth was hanging open as she took Annalise in, she tried to stifle her thoughts before they even began, seeing the young woman out in full sunlight, breathless and reaching for her. Lovely as any dream Seiko had ever had.

Seiko swallowed in the way you choke down medication with a swollen throat.

“Don’t go,” Annalise’s dark blue eyes were huge and searching, she panted, “Don’t go.” Seiko sucked in a breath and dashed back up the street, “Annalise,” she smiled widely, pausing just in front of her, “it’s weird to see you not on your porch. How are you feeling? I haven’t… seen you in awhile.”

Annalise just shook her head, “don’t say this your last day.” Her voice sounded wet with emotion and she pawed at her face forcefully, though it didn’t look like there were any tears there.

Seiko’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled faintly, “Sorry,” she swallowed, “I need a different job and this one… doesn’t really fit anymore.” Annalise shook her head more vigorously, pressing her lips together tight as an angry iron line. “It was,” she whispered, “I waited for you every day. It was the best part of my day.”

Seiko’s chest tightened, a pain shooting through her upper body. I know you were lonely.

She rubbed her shoulder, “Why don’t I come visit? Or better yet, let’s hang out sometime, like, I dunno, get pizza or walk to the park or go swimming-” “My mom wouldn’t allow it,” Annalise was pawing at her face again, hiccuping. “She thinks I’m not ready.” Seiko frowned decidedly, she touched the other girl’s wrist, it was dry and rough. “Annalise,” she said seriously, “Is there something you’re not telling me? Is your mother,” she looked around and leaned in, whispering between them, “Trapping you in there? Are you okay?” Annalise’s bottom lip trembled, “It’s not like that. You wouldn’t understand,” she took a step back, “I don’t like to go out.”

“I know,” Seiko’s brow folded in, “But, I mean, we could still be friends! Let’s try and f-” “Annalise!” A voice carried down the street and both their heads jerk up, a woman in a long sweeping robe and strappy heels was running down the sidewalk. “What are you doing? Look at the sun coming up, are you even wearing sunscreen?” Annalise scowled back at her, “Here.” She turned back to Seiko, “You forgot this.” She slipped a wad of cash into Seiko’s hands and Seiko just blinked, she looked back up, “Wait.” She said thinly, “We need to talk. I can help you, I can do something.” “My mom is coming,” Annalise turned, “Thank you Seiko. Thank you for everything.” Her words were heavy and brimming with other unsaid things. But just like that Annalise was jogging back to her mom, calling out tersely. “I’m fine Catherine.” She seemed to snap, “See? No damages, God, you’re so dramatic.” Seiko watched the interaction mutely, trying to piece together whatever that all meant. Would a trapped girl talk to her mother like that? Would an abused girl simply leave again? Annalise took her mom’s hand and they walk back toward their house hand in hand, Madame Lynne didn’t even spare a glance for Seiko. It was Seiko’s last day after all and she’d be gone like a coins into a Las Vegas slot machine.

When Seiko looked down at the money in her hand there was a small slip of paper as well: a note written in neat fine handwriting.

unicornstormbringer773@comcast.net – write me.

Seiko blinked at the message for a long few seconds, “unicorn… stormbringer?” She broke into a smile and something jumbled in her chest like elegantly tossed puzzle pieces. She had gotten an email.

——————-

Dear Annalise, So… about that email address. Where exactly are you hiding your horn? And are you always summoning storms or just when you’re in a bad mood? Did that address come with glitter and like, rainbow stickers?

Kidding.

Are you alright though? Do you need anything? From,

Your delivery girl

She got a response back right away.

Dear Delivery girl,

Haha. For one thing, I needed something my mom would never guess- and for another I just needed any email at all, it seemed like a good idea when I was 12.

How is ‘lucyliusloveinterest’ any better?? And who is Lucy Lui? No, no, I’m fine. My mother is just overprotective, it’s complicated, don’t worry about me.

How was your day? I stopped getting a lot of updates from you, you’re going to high school soon, right? How was graduation? How was the soccer season? From,

Your Least Favorite Former Unicorn Enthusiast

Seiko grinned to herself and started typing away, she imagined she was a 19th century working girl keeping correspondence with an old-fashioned bedridden rich socialite. You know, instead of texting like normal people.

Dear Unicorn Salivator,

For one, the fact you never leave your house is no excuse for not knowing Lucy Liu, for shame!! (Elementary? Charlie’s Angels?? )

The address is an inside joke from a rather out of control sleepover. I’ll never live it down, but I will make a joke email around it! Haha, nothing serious, just a lifetime of embarrassment nbd

Day was fine, graduation was pretty awesome, I got my picture in the yearbook TWICE, one for jump-high fiving the mascot and the other for a gatorade incident. Soccer kind of sucked, too much drama and our coach wanted us to get ‘serious,’ whatever that means.

We got to state tho, then immediately knocked out of state, figures

I might not do it next year, but Liza says practice will suck without me and that I can’t leave her, maybe it will be different in High School, so I guess I’ll endure. I GUESS

High school is gonna be hella different tho, I swear, I’m buying an electric scooter (eventually) and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna ace social studies for once, go to a few dances, maybe break an arm and get everyone to sign the cast, move to Peru and open a coffee shop, you know

How are you? Your mom see my future recently? Read any good books? Come get pizza with us some time, I promise that public school kids don’t bite

Yours,

Soccer Dud, High School Stud

Dear Dud,

Sorry, pizza sounds lovely, but it will have to wait for later.

As for the soccer, I have to say…

——–

High school passed rotely: a series of highs and lows, almost failing math for a hot second, quitting the soccer team, rejoining the soccer team, getting the flu, getting ask out- turning down someone for the first time. And emails. Lots of emails.

Seiko had no idea how she could write paragraphs on paragraphs to a girl she had known for only minutes at a time in middle school. But maybe it made sense, maybe Seiko wanted it to make sense.

Why does her mother keep her indoors? Was any of it okay?

The emails became a constant in her life as the first year of high school dragged on.

Dear Dior Heathen (who God hath abandoned),

Uuuugh, my mom is bugging me so much recently. She’s obsessed with Rei and her elementary school play, but barely remembers to even take me out to drive. It’s always ‘wait your turn Seiko’ and ‘talk to your dad about it.’ He’s such a space case when I do, he keeps pretending to lose the car keys and makes a big deal of it (or he’s not pretending??).

This whole semester is screwed, high school is the worst Annalise, I’m so jealous of you being homeschooled.

The video and film club keep outvoting me for what short film we make, no one wants to do my alien thriller murder project. NO TASTE. June’s in that club. Did I mention June? We used to do paper delivery stuff together

She’s the worst. And she keeps wanting to do this romcom she wrote!! It’s based off her dumb supernatural fanfiction- I swear to God it is. She’s only a sophomore, but claims to have the most ‘seniority.’ She’s also in the lbgt+ club and says that also makes her ‘the authority on art,’ whatever that means, and she keeps trying to get me to join >:(((

For the record, JUST BECAUSE I HAVE SHORT HAIR AND PLAY SOCCER DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING!! She’s so pushy, and presumptuous!! dating is like… the last thing on my mind

Hbu? You finish that book about the secret life of trees? Do they do anything spicy, like squirrel espionage? Tree murder plots? Huh?

OR how about… your LOVE LIFE? Your mom’s new ‘Loves Fortune’ show is all the rage at school, tell me she’s at least tried to read your future and it’s like… a horse (unicorn maybe, hmm?) husband. Or probably a lesser nobility of a small country, aim high A!!

Anyway, gotta go count my $$$, I want to go to movies this weekend and I didn’t get that grocery store job (since no one will teach me to drive!!) and I’m still living off my paper route money. THE CRUELTY OF IT ALL *this is where I swoon and fall to the ground, I can’t go to the movies, people are weeping, Mr. Dior is there, he tells me I am terribly unfashionable*

Yours,

Your Impoverished Vehicle-less Friend

Dear Marooned Stranger,

You poor dear, I wonder what it’s like to not be able to go anywhere (*she loudly coughs into her hand*). I wouldn’t be too jealous of being homeschooled dear, it gets rather… suffocating to be honest. Involving many rules and worksheets and sorting through her vast collection of dusty tomes and ‘elixirs,’ Catherine is going from overbearing to class A-hysteric.

Everything worries her lately! At least her new show keeps her busy, out more, trust me, it’s a nice breather.

You claim to not have dating on your mind, but this is the third time you’ve asked me about a love life who do you think I’m going to meet all the way up in my room? The new delivery boy doesn’t even smile and the birds outside my window are assholes, no one likes an early-morning screamer.

So no. No love life.

But I wouldn’t be so close-minded of that club if I were you! I was reading ‘Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers’ for my social studies curriculum and it was truly fascinating. I know you never read my recommended books, but give it a try.Who knows, maybe you can usurp June at her club! Viva la non-pushy girls ;).

Also, remind me of when your birthday is. I want to send you something.

Yours,

Loveless in Confinement

Dear Inmate,

Sucks to be yoooooouuuu. Haha, but I’m serious, for real, for really serious. Break out. She can’t keep you there forever!! What are you, almost 16? Let’s go out, get a milkshake, knock over a trash can, break loose

Hell, we could go to a ‘scene,’ Kingsley invited me to one of those recently

He’s into ‘scenes’ now, and smoking apparently which is really gross but his mom says he’s just ‘experimenting.’ I hope she doesn’t think his new boyfriend is just an experiment too (see?? I’m not close-minded, my friend from elementary school is gay. So there). I haven’t seen him in awhile so it will be like a big ‘ol reunion

Also, sorry bb but you already missed my bday, it’s November 15th and it’s almost April lol. But you have to come to my next one!! The big 1 and 6, hopefully I’ll finally be able to drive by then, if the lord deigns to bless me with any indulgences at all adkfjagjgp

You can still send me a present tho!! I accept late-work, no points taken off :3c

I’ll try usurping June too, maybe not at her tiny lbtq club but I WILL have my alien-thriller-murder movie come to life!!

Liza keeps asking me about film club, I think she can tell my heart is like not into soccer at all at the moment. I dunno, I keep thinking we’ll drift apart after middle school but every time I think about like, not seeing her, or not talking to her, it just sucks. You know? Really sucks

Ugh, June would throw a big ‘I told you so’ party if she saw me writing that, and then I’d have to smack her haha

I’m serious about you getting out of there tho, I’m real about it, we should stop talking about it and just do it, you know?

If you do want some outside-time meet me next Friday, at the end of Greenbriar by the entrance sign, I’ll wear my neon green windbreaker so you can recognize me (and since it’s an AMAZING jacket and NOT an eyesore like my mom says). At 7, k?

We’ll do whatever.

Anyway, yours,

Your Sucker-Punching Sad Sap of a Friend

(Outside Greenbriar!! 7, don’t tell your mom or anything haha, I’ll get you home before 10 promise)

Dear Seiko,

I’d like that. I’d really really like that.

I’ll bring your present then, by the sign, 7 O’clock , I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.

Yours,

Annalise

—————

Seiko stood in the gentle spring air, the last rays of the sun bleaching across the land, shining in between the houses and warming the back of her neck. She took deep even breaths.

She was wearing her neon green windbreaker, holding a stuffed unicorn toy, and wearing her hair up in the shortest ponytail this side of Chicago. Maybe if she pretended to have long hair her heart wouldn’t beat so fast. Like hummingbirds caught in a wind turbine.

It’s just hanging out, she hunched her shoulders over. It’s just a silly toy I got her.

Freshmen year of highschool hadn’t gone like she expected. Sure, she had gotten ‘involved,’ made some friends and lost some, but she wasn’t popular and she wasn’t ‘taking the town.’ She didn’t really feel like anything at all. She was still just the girl making video edits with cartoon sound effects and photoshopping wiener dog faces over the woodshop teachers face.

She was still just Seiko.

Her mom wanted her to get a proper job again or she wasn’t affording new shoes for next year, she wanted her to quit soccer, Seiko wanted to quit soccer, Seiko couldn’t quit soccer. She kept looking at Liza and feeling some tasteless, nameless thing she pushed down like drowning a first born son in a bathtub.

But this wasn’t nameless. It was Seiko holding a stuffed animal around the neck and swaying back and forth in the warm breeze. It was Seiko checking her phone’s clock, again and again.

She had put on mascara, she had put on lip gloss. Ten minutes passed.

She had walked there so she wouldn’t sweat on a bike ride over. Twenty minutes passed.

She thought out what she wanted to say over and over, a simple ‘hey, you look nice.’ Thirty minutes passed.

She bought a purple and white unicorn with a sparkly horn for fifteen bucks. She waited fifty minutes.

Seiko’s arms fell to her side, she waited an entire hour for someone in a pretty white dress and expensive earrings and angry little face to show up. No one showed.

————–

From: ToyomiStoryReloaded@gmail.com

Where were you? Get busted by the man on your way out? Get cold feet? Lmk, either way I’m sending you 4 videos, 3 are cute dog videos you WILL enjoy and 1 is Rick Astley. Choose wisely. *saw music plays*

1, 2, 3, 4

Yours,

I’ll be real with you, Im a little pissed

PS I hope you’re okay.

Seiko never got a reply. She didn’t get anything at all, no matter how many follow up emails she sent, no matter how many ‘just write me that you’re okay. And not trapped in a dungeon somewhere.’

‘Just write me one letter, if it’s the letter ‘c’ I’ll come get you.’

‘Just send me some smoke signals, I’ll look to the western sky’

‘Just write me at all.’

‘Annalise…?’

————

Seiko visited Annalise’s house. Something had to be done, it was the middle of the day a week later, she waited ten minutes on the sidewalk, just watching the house. She saw a blond head in the first-story window.

Seiko waved forcefully, gesturing for her to come outside- come away with her, Annalise’s head turned and their eyes met. Seiko beamed, but Annalise gave her a neutral look, all placid eyes and an uninterested twitch of her lip.

Annalise looked away after that. Simply turned her head and looked the other direction. Seiko waited another minute, but Annalise never came out to greet her.

Seiko stared at her shoes, took a deep gulping breath, and went home the long way. The way that made her legs ache and her eyes sting a little less in the night air.

—————-

Seiko was 16. It was the week of her birthday, Seiko was 16 and she couldn’t tell if she was at the top of the world or buried under a hundred pounds of dirt.

“Just come,” she heard the voice of her friend Kingsley on the phone, “One night, it’s your birthday weekend, spend it with people who like you instead of all those hetero soccer girls who put your bra in the freezer last year.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “That was just a stupid prank and they already took me to Denny’s this week on my actual birthday, bought me every flavor of pancake for your information. It was cool.” She flinched at the memory of the cold ice on her chest, but she pushed it back down. She had laughed that all off. “And what if they figure out the IDs are fake? My mom would kill me for even thinking the words ‘fake ID.’”

“Tres Beaut doesn’t even card before 11 and I know a guy,” Kingsley explained slowly, “Sei, I invited people from your school too, Liza something- you like her, right? You gotta come. What happened to that ‘fuck the man’ spirit? You’re the one that made me watch the Breakfast Club when we were ten.” Seiko gave a brief laugh, she forgot how much she missed Kingsley. Then she frowned again, “For one, Liza is definitely not coming.” She covered her eyes with her arm and groaned, “Definitely not.” “Why not?” He humphed, “I thought she was the one you-” “She’s just not coming.” Seiko growled, cringing briefly. She had finally said something, it was not the right something- she played it off as a joke.

“Perfect!” Kingsley sang, most likely putting two and two together. “You can come and let off some steam. There will be girls there who, you know, could actually like you back!” Seiko groaned into the receiver and thought about hanging up. “I don’t know what I like.” She looked away, maybe that was true, maybe it wasn’t. “I’ve never even kissed a girl, please, Kingsley.” “What? What about the time you called me crying on the phone about Natalie Dormer and your english teacher and those wei-” “It’s always been just a joke, a haha funny, ‘maybe Seiko doesn’t like boys’ clown joke,” Seiko looked miserably up at the ceiling, “None of it was ever meant to be serious.” Nothing ever was.

Kingsley sighed loudly, “Then it’s time.” He said resolutely, “Come to the club with me, it’ll be awesome, live a little, figure yourself out, don’t leave your old friend Kingsley to go alone to this thing.”

“Maybe.” “I think you mean yes. Yes, yes, yes,” He repeated the word like a mantra, “Say yes.” She sighed so deeply a bit of her soul might of left, “Fine.” “Yes!” The phone hung up after that.

Kingsley had become more strong-willed since back in third grade when he cried over dead bugs on the playground. Apparently he dated a Junior girl last year, briefly dropped out, stopped dating a junior girl, and now got fake IDs for a gay club. Life changed.

Seiko just looked the ceiling, eyes misting over. What if she did go? What if she spent her birthday money and drank and danced on sticky floors in the night? What if there was somebody in the smoky dark room with soft lips and warm hands that took her off to the side…

Well, but what if the gay girls didn’t like her either? Then it truly would be hopeless.

She sunk deep into her couch, the rest of her family was out at a family dinner night. She had refused to go, claiming a cold. Seiko lugged herself over to the family calendar and penned in an event: Seiko goes to Liza’s house for a sleepover, gone the whole night.

She went to bed before 8 O’Clock and thought about nothing.

———–

Friday.

There was an email in her inbox on friday, and not her school one, her old one, the one she almost forgot about. She only checked it as an old habit, one that ached like a scar and stuttered hotly in her chest.

She opened her email and something new was there.

Dear Seiko,

It felt like reading a ghost’s handwriting.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it was all my fault. I was a coward, a fool, I wanted it so badly but I was so scared. I’m sorry.

Happy birthday, I needed to tell you that. I’m so sorry and happy birthday.

I’ve been thinking about you and your birthday and everything else.

Let me know if you ever want to try again. I promise I’ll be ready this time, I want to try again so badly Seiko. But I understand if you don’t.

Love,

Annalise.

Seiko shut her laptop with a loud ‘clack,’ tossed the entire second-hand computer under her bed, and hopped under the covers. She put her head under her pillow and screwed her eyes shut tight in order to force herself to sleep. Nothing but a pounding in her head greeted her.

She opened her computer again at 2am that night, it was dark and still as a tomb. The apartment below them was playing soft ocean music and someone was singing drunkenly on the street. Seiko couldn’t sleep, she didn’t want to sleep. She should sleep.

She wrote, despite herself.

Dear A,

I get it. I think I get it, your mom, right? Sure, yeah, I’m going out this Saturday, out-out, it probably won’t be your thing, a club probably isn’t the best starter-outing

But, yeah, we could try again.Promise you won’t see me and blow me off again? I’m pretty delicate (and dainty, can’t you tell?) and that kind of really fucking sucked like, 6 months ago

If you’re actually up for it, meet us at the gas station on 25th street, we’ll pick you up along with a few beers. Hope you don’t mind.

Yours,

Totally-Cool-and-Drinks-Beers-Now Seiko

She shouldn’t have done it. She did it.

She closes her laptop again and buried the thing at the bottom of a stack of laundry.

————-

She didn’t expect anything. She told herself there was nothing to expect. She was 16 and she made her own meals, did her own laundry, and tied her own damn shoes, she got to make her own decisions.

She could go out to places where they drank and smoked and didn’t care about small apartments that smelled like burnt sneakers and damp soil.

She was 16 now. And she didn’t need ‘fairy gates’ and pale victorian girl’s trapped in wedding-cake houses that were more fantastical than real. She didn’t need bedtime stories of captive princesses.

Seiko’s heart still stopped when she saw the lithe figure under the green fluorescent lights of the gas station. She wasn’t wearing pajamas for once. She had on a knee-length white tent dress with pale yellow accents, a soft blue knit jacket loosely buttoned up her front, and a pair of ankle-length brown boots. She clutched a saddlebag brown leather purse to her side.

They were all probably name-brand with designers Seiko couldn’t place and held by a girl with poise money couldn’t by. Annalise’s dark eyes followed each car nervously, standing with her whole body tense and bathed in the eerie glow of the musty gas station.

She looked out of place against the grungy pumps and compact convenience store, candy bars, tabloids, and energy drinks framing her loose twisting golden curls. She looked out of place and more nervous than Seiko had ever seen her.

But she had come.

“Is that your girl?” Kingsley whistled, he was driving his families yellow jeep with the air of someone with enough money to replace it. “She’s like one of those fancy haunted dolls you buy in the creepy part of ebay.” Seiko shot a glare at him, “She doesn’t get out much.” She explained shortly to him, “pull over.” They drove up to the spooked girl and she froze in place, eyes wide and mirror-like, Seiko quickly rolled down the window, “what’s up hot stuff?” She said with a slight cringe.

Annalise visibly relaxed, “Seiko.” Her eyes grew soft and a faint smile played across her features. “You came.” It was simple, a moment with no time at all, crystallized and still in a way that was beyond a gas station meeting in the dark with childhood friend’s going to a drinking party.

Seiko put her hand out, “Come on up.” Annalise beamed, a faint glow coming to her cheeks, “I’m ready to go out into the world.” She declared and lifted herself up tall, “I’m not even frightened.” “You should be,” Kingsley snorted, “The world’s a fucked up place.” Seiko rolled her eyes, “don’t listen to the cynic, he’s in his ‘try everything once and become an asshole’ phase.” “Thanks Sei, you’re a peach.”

Seiko gave a short laugh, “Come on,” she opened the car door to the back seats, “We’re giving you a crash course in the outside world. Zero to a hundred real quick.” “I’m ready!” Annalise pumped her hands in the air, “Show it to me.” They all grinned with the burn of youth in their guts and chill of the frosty winter in the air. It was time to do something new.

————

Dark trees, brilliant headlights, and a stretching highway unfolded around them in long plodding stretches, Seiko held her hands- popping each knuckle one finger at a time.

She vibrated in place gently, trying to push down any building giddiness, it’s just a club she told herself, just a party, just a girl. So what if it was a gay club? So what if I haven’t done anything like this before? It was thirty minutes to the nearest big-city, Springfield, and then thirty minutes back. But Kingsley had already assured them that they might need to uber their own way back.

“What’s an uber?” Annalise blinked a couple times, wide-eyed and tilting her head like a graceful meerkat leaning into their personal space. She hadn’t been convinced to put a seatbelt on yet.

Seiko and Kingsley exchanged a look, “Uhh,” they both fumbled. “A car you, pay for?”

Annalise grew a cheeky grin, “I’m kidding.” She pushed on Seiko’s shoulder, “I’m a shut-in, not a luddite.” They laughed, passed around a few unmemorable words, and turned the car’s speakers on high. They sang along to Kingsley’s father’s playlists, belting out the Beach Boys best hits when appropriate.

“If everybody had an ocean

Across the U. S. A.

Then everybody’d be surfin’

Like Californi-a”

No one in that car had surfed a day in their life. They turned the song up for a reprise.

Some of the worries melted from Seiko’s gut, it was the night for this, it was the night for her, and Kingsley, and most of all Annalise. They could eat the world whole- chew on the rinds, crunch the mountains into crumbs, and swallow the oceans like candy-flavored cough syrup.

They sped across blank landscape, passing the speed limit at several points and tapping the ceiling with a kiss at every train track. They drove until a glittering mass of high buildings arose from the treetops like a sudden witch’s hut in an otherwise cursed black forest. Sprawling neighborhoods, actual indoor malls, and house lights that didn’t turn off at 9pm came into view.

Seiko took deep even breaths, “We close?” She bit her lip, “are they even expecting us?” Kingsley rolled his eyes and turned off into a highway exit, “Chill,” he put his hand out, “Relax. Everyone will take care of you, they’re cool.” “Take care of us?” Annalise knit her brow together.

Kingsley looked back in the mirror, “You know, like murder.” “No Kingsley.” Seiko groaned.

They made several turns down dinghy second-hand neighborhood roads and Seiko popped her fingers again. The neighborhoods had low gutters, indistinct sidewalks, yellow street lights the color of stale mountain dew, and five story buildings on either side- and this wasn’t even the downtown district. They were as far from Rogers as the afterlife was to the newly born.

Kingsley started humming, “here we go baby.”

They slowed down in front of a boxy cement building with glowing square windows and too many people mulling about outside. Most of them were holding lit cigarettes, chatting, and relaxed as a crowd of crows at a carcass. One of the groups were sipping out of red solo cups and watching a young man in a beanie attempt a skateboard trick.

Seiko gulped as her eyes flicked over the cups, she had tried a few beers with the soccer girls before and even a shot of whiskey she immediately coughed up through her nose.

But nothing like this.

Several cars were parked haphazardly off to the side, a jigsaw puzzle of devil-may care line-ups, a couple of stranger’s raised their heads as Kingsley’s yellow jeep pulled up.

“Y’all ready?” Kingsley winked.

Seiko set her jaw and put on a brave face on, “Let’s rock.” Kingsley just chuckled, “Alright then.” He parked, Seiko exchanged a look with Annalise.

‘You ready?’ she mouthed to the other girl and Annalise just gave a stony-faced nod. She sat up straight and threw her arms up, “Let’s murder it!” She shouted at full-volume and they laughed recklessly in reply.

Kingsley was the first one to jump out, boneless and tall as the buildings themselves. “Who has a drink for me and these lovely ladies?” He waved and some people must have recognized him as he was greeted with a brief ‘ayyyyy.’

Seiko took another moment to get her legs to work, closing her eyes, imagining the whole night laid out in front of her like a winding silver road, her feet pounding on it up and up and out. She hopped out of the car without looking back.

Seiko stumbled forward and a few people looked her over, she gave a lopsided-grin, “Sooo, there’s drinks here?”

“Sure kid,” a girl with a nose ring motioned for a guy wearing a hawaiian t-shirt.

Annalise followed her out like a lost shadow, bumping into Seiko and grabbing at her sleeve, Seiko just gave her a reassuring smile. ‘We got this,’ she mouthed in her general direction, Annalise’s expression had slipped slightly like a shifting curtain over a disturbed zoo animal.

“Yeah.”

Kingsley whooped from the makeshift parking lot, patted some hands, and handed Seiko a sort of ‘jungle juice’ he called it. She wrinkled her nose at the sweet slippery smell and fluorescent redness.

“I guess…” She gave it a long hard look.

“Oh no, none for me, not yet.” Someone tried to offer Annalise a drink too, but she politely turned it down, her cheeks paler than usual and face a little stricken.

“One of you has to break your alcohol cherry tonight,” Kingsley said loudly for the benefit of the crowd, like a showman at the fairgrounds, some other kids cheered back. “Go for it girl,” a young woman with a mohawk cackled.

Seiko looked over to Annalise, her sweeping dark eyes, small wrists, preened curls, and the upright way she carried herself. Everything.

Seiko took a deep breath, held her nose, and drank deeply, it was like every punch juice she ever had but sweeter and with a strong bitter undercurrent. She squeezed her eyes shut, blinked up, and stared into the starless night sky until it all went down.

—————

Colors and lights blurred together, sound thumped in the very center of her being like a drumbeat to her blinking eyes and swirling thoughts. Everything was slightly blurred around the edges, like a developing photo that had been shifted at the very last second.

The world was brighter, busier, and more jumbled than ever before, Seiko had a huge liquid smile spread across her face. They had made it to the club, she couldn’t remember how or why they made it, but they were there. Seiko was sitting on some black leather couches with a group of people she hadn’t known an hour ago.

In the distant past she had entered an apartment, played her first drinking game, won at flip cup, lost spectarcurly at king’s cup. She drank the whole regal cup after that to a series of chanting that began and ended with ‘chug.’ That’s when things got a little wonky around the edges.

She was sitting, smiling, and soaking in the room, there were girls moving with girls and boys whispering to each other in private corners. Couples laughed, held hands, and found places to   dig skin into skin like holy burial grounds. There was a sapling plant in her chest being watered for the first time, a sunbeam to people who never seen the sky before.

She blinked slowly, “This place is great.” That might not have been the first time she said that, “Really great.” Some girl she didn’t know was placing water in front of her, “drink up.” She smiled and watched her carefully. The girl had sparkle star berets in her stiff brown hair, a neon-troll shirt, and a thousand brightly colored bracelets. Seiko thought they started talking when she complimented the girl’s purple leather pants and somehow ended up here. Another girl sat across from them in all black and ignored the crowds for watching the multi-colored ceiling lights instead.

Seiko slowly reached for the water and chugged. It was good, lot’s of things were really good.

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice broke into her headspace.

Seiko turned to see a blonde girl leaning over them, trying to avoid other people swaggering behind her as they passed behind the couch. She looked perplexed, Seiko turned her smile on Annalise and reached for her.

“Annalise,” she hummed, “You look so pretty tonight, those red lights are hitting just right.” She hiccuped, “Wish I had my camera.” Annalise shook her head, “I thought I lost you.” The girl (Kendra something?) looked between them curiously, paused, and then scooted over, “Take a seat, we’re just taking a break here.” Annalise exhaled and squished into the place next to them, her eyes flitting over everything and anything.

“Had a drink yet?” Seiko asked and Annalise just shook her head in reply.

“Shame.” A girl with a dark mohawk and a cat-like curl to her lips said, sitting crossed legged on the opposite couch. She reached into her pocket and took out a cherry-red lighter in the shape of a tongue.

Seiko opened her mouth to say something, but a high-pitched yelp interrupted. Seiko turned, Annalise had reeled back, kicking her legs into the table between them and climbing the couch backward. Her eyes were huge. “Is smoking allowed in here?” The girl shrugged, nonplussed, “I know for damn sure this isn’t.” She took out a rolled up piece of paper and put it between her lips, leaning her head back and exposing an expanse of smooth skin. Seiko had the sudden urge to lick it.

“What is it?” Annalise watched her movements, lips parted and shaking anxiety apparent in her movements.

The girl grinned smoothly, “A happy stick. Sweet Mary Jane.” That was pretty obvious.

Annalise just nodded slowly, mouth falling open as the girl flicked the lighter to life, the little flame danced in place. Annalise’s eyes followed it closely as the girl lit the end of her reefer, Annalise swallowed, “My mom always warned me about that stuff.” The girl took a deep inhale, it smelled sweet and thick. Sne answered on the exhale with a huge plume wafting up, “don’t worry about it.” She grinned, “momma knows best.” Annalise watched the whole process in silence, waiting for something. Seiko herself got distracted and started playing ‘Hand Slap’ with Kendra. She kept losing.

“Your reflexes suck,” Kendra frowned, “Are you even trying?” Seiko got her hands slapped for the fifth time, a red welt forming on the top of them. She screwed her face up in concentration, “You’re more sober than me, it’s not fair.” “Drink some more water!”

Seiko rolled her eyes and complied, then a voice spoke up.

“Could I try it? I mean, if that’s okay.” Seiko swiveled around, alert, she almost forgot Annalise was sitting there, neatly tucked away in the corner and watching.

The girl, who’s name was Mikenna, slid her eyes across the room as cool as oil slicks. Her mouth split open in another grin, “Sure thing.” She languidly handed over the blunt, “Don’t inhale too deep the first time, sip it like a kiss.” Annalise’s cheeks pinked, shoulders drawing together and taking the blunt with jerky, questioning movements. She nodded briefly.

“Like this?” Annalise brought it to her lips tentatively.

“Sure.” Mikenna gestured widely.

Annalise paused, thinking for a moment, she took a long inhale in the way you give a firm handshake, solid and focused. She broke out into a sputtering cough the next second, Seiko patted her on the back as she hacked into her fist. “Slower!” Mikenna instructed.

Annalise squeezed her eyes shut, brought the blunt back up again, barely parted her lips and took a drag. The smoke came out of her mouth in a snaking puff, winding and soft, she doesn’t cough this time.

“You got it!”

“Woo! She’s an art kid now,” Annalise gave a brief whoop and they all laughed. Annalise took another hit, watching the little burning end the way preachers watch baptisms, reverent. She never took her eyes off the thing as she and Mikenna passed it back and forth, taking a series of hits. Seiko observed mutley as her agoraphobic friend learned how to smoke weed, she watched the plumes of blooming smoke and Annalise’s pupils expanding like bursting fireworks. Seiko took another shot of whiskey and laughed along with the others at some joke.

Her head lulled back in place and time became thick white ink in the back of her mind, spotty and barely there.

“Let’s dance.” A voice breached her blank thoughts, sudden as a lightning strike, Annalise stood over Seiko, red-eyed and limp-jointed.

“Hmm?”

“Dance,” Annalise smiled and reached for Seiko’s hand, her fingers trailing out from the abyss and grasping for her. “Out there.” Their hands slid together and Annalise tugged gently on Seiko.

“Okay,” she replied simply, the water was running through her system and her senses were coming back into place like lost puzzle pieces. Luckily, she still had enough goose left in her to let herself be led to the dance floor.

Annalise was giggling and covering her mouth, squeezing Seiko’s hand like it was a secret between them, Seiko felt weightless again. They wedged themselves onto the edge of the dance floor, a horde of shaking bodies jerking back and forth around them. The music pounded wordlessly and they fit together on the sticky white floors face to face.

They giggled for another moment before starting to rock back and forth experimentally, leaving enough room for Jesus but catching each other’s eyes and smiling. They hovered closer, shimmying and throwing their hands up to the beat.

They swayed and touched lightly and tried to collapse into something more than ‘almost.’

The breath left Seiko’s body when someone bumped into her and she stumbled into Annalise, crashing into her and their bodies coming together like peanut butter and jelly bread slices. Annalise didn’t pull away, instead intertwining their hands and pulling her close. Their bodies slid into one and a melting heat coursed through Seiko like river rapids.

She drew her eyes up and they’re rolling along to the music, sandwiched together and mixing like shaken martinis. Seiko exhaled through her nose, something feverish and prickling across her skin, their legs slotted and chests touched lightly.

She wet her lips, “this is good.” It felt dumb to say out loud, she glanced up shyly at Annalise’s loose hair and bright eyes, “You look good.” Her hands felt dumb, her feet felt dumb, and her head swam with dumb. The rest of her was completely electric.

Annalise tapped their foreheads together, “You too,” She said gently, wrapping her arms around Seiko’s neck, sweaty skin melding and eyes burning. “Thanks for inviting me out.” She leaned closer with each word, “It’s even better than I thought.” She was a hair away, sticky music and rhythm consuming them on all sides.

“No problem,” her voice cracked, she grinned up, “I just can’t believe you smoked a joint.” Annalise laughed, lighting up like a firecracker, “I just hoped to get up the nerve to get you alone.” Seiko’s heart beat so fast and hard she thought it might crash through her chest and out into the bloody world, abandoning her there forever. Her whole body froze despite the grinding and the pooling warmth inside her. “You didn’t need to do all that, I think you’re,” she floundered, mouth gaping open and closed, “…cool.” She finished weakly.

Annalise giggled and her breath is hot against Seiko’s cheek, “I think you’re amazing.” She felt the touch of almost-skin against skin, “and I’ve been waiting too long for too many things.” The actual words were drowned out by the thrumming music, but their lips crushed together with the force of honey bees into flower hearts, ready to suck the pollen dry. Gentle and needy, the first touch is rainwater against burnt hilltops.

Her lips are slightly parched, warm and pulsing like a drumbeat, it didn’t matter that they were in a dim club in the middle of a distant city with nothing but strangers around them. They kiss, clumsily, forcefully, Seiko’s thoughts jammed like cars at a traffic light and she melted into the moment.

Annalise’s hands went through Seiko’s hair and Seiko wound her arms around the taller’s girls waist and pulled her closer. They deepened the kiss in the flurry of music and sweet heaving bodies. Little noises caught in Seiko’s throat and it’s a tunnel she’s falling down, down, down into with no safety rope, tilting her chin up and getting lost.

The union was wet and sloppy, hot as fevers and bruising her chaste lips, everything a mix of sensation threading together in one infinite moment. Annalise kissed like she wanted to eat her, hands running down Seiko’s whole body and teeth nipping at jawline.

It was better than she imagined.

Annalise had never been outside her house, Seiko had never named wanting anything at all. Wanting was for people with names in the yearbook and clothes from anywhere than a thrift shop. And it was all fire ants on a honey hill, kittens rolling in catnip, turnedo storms on flat plains, none of the embrace was elegant but it really didn’t need to be.

A blur of lips and grinding and wetness, it felt like hours, someone told her later that it was hours. Seiko eventually broke the entwinement in a fit of panic and went to choke down some water. They found each other again after a brief recovery, retiring to the nearest couch and falling into one another.

Seiko burst with the world and it burst back.

Her mouth became puffy and cracked with chapped heat, neck littered with tiny purple swelling marks and everything aching with pouring light. It was all a wish of wish she had never managed before.

They took an uber home and parted with a kiss that broke her in two, Seiko walked home from Greenbriar on foot and didn’t feel a single drop of cold. She was electric.

——————

Seiko woke up the next morning and she was not electric anymore, in fact, she was very much grey thunderstorms with no lightning. Very very bleak. And loud.

She groaned and turned over in bed, groping around to close her blinds and sleep forever. Her head hurt, her knee hurt where she she kicked a chair, her back hurt, and her breath tasted like sour candy left out to rot in the sun.

She had gone out last night.

Seiko rolled over and reached for the small trash can by her bed, she sat there and felt queasy for at least a couple minutes before stumbling up to go find some water. Mercifully, her mother didn’t come check on her that morning and Seiko returned to her bed unhindered.

It was hard to process the night. It was hard to even guess why she did the things she did.

The other part of her was amazed she did them at all, was it real? Had she kissed a girl? Had she touched her hair and felt the swell of music and warmth inside her? What was that night real? Seiko replayed the moments over and over in head, even the blurry parts that were more sensation than images. But the kiss was real.

She sighed into her pillow and was helpless against the next pull of sleep, dreaming soft things in fits until her headache slowly faded into just an aching pulse. It was well past noon when she finally managed to drag herself from bed again, shower, and feel like any sort of person.

Seiko sat cross-legged on her bed in a fluffy towel, opening her email to check on her grades and any Monday assignments (she prayed she hadn’t forgot any).

Instead, she felt her soul leave her body as she read the worst email header of her life: Goodbye.

Seiko could barely process the word, much less who is it was from. It had unicorn in the name.

Goodbye.

Thank you for everything Seiko, it means more to me than you will ever know. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Go live your life, forget me, know that I am so sorry and forget me.

Love,

A

Seiko’s eyes went wide, she sat there numbly for a full minute.

“Of course she would,” Seiko gnashed her teeth, “Of course that fakey psychic witch would,” something burned in her center, “Enough is enough Madame Lynne.” She said the name mockingly and burst to her feet, only swaying slightly in place.

Enough was enough.

She wrote out a quick manifesto and threw on some new clothes: children don’t belong in cages Madame L. Children deserve to see the world and make their own mistakes.

It sounded reasonable enough to her, she could start with reason at least and then resort to other things later.

Seiko still had to wait another hour before she was less groggy, less achy, and less panicky in her fritzing nerves. She knew what she had to do nonetheless.

When she finally left her room to stuff a sandwich down her throat and find her shoes her mom was waiting in the living room. She was sitting on the couch absently watching the TV, “Did you have a fun night?” She asked without looking up.

“Oh… yeah,” Seiko just nodded, “It was pretty great.” Her mom’s sober crows-feet eyes looked up at her. She spoke dryly, “Learn anything?” Seiko made a non-committed gesture, “Maybe.” She frowned, “I think so.” Her mom just sighed and shook her head, “I saw you put your shoes away in the bread box when you got in. At 5 O’clock.” “5 O’clock,” Seiko repeated, “Thanks, I’ll go get them. Also,” she hesitated, deciding whether to go all in or not, “Also, I might call in sick Monday.” Her mom narrowed her eyes, “Oh?” Seiko just nodded and tried haltingly to explain, “I have something important to do. It might… need a lot of attention.” Her mom gave her a piercing looking, all folded brows and a discerning stare. She lifted her chin up, “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” Seiko lifted her chin up, “Thanks mom. Thanks for everything.” She shuffled over to kiss her mom on the cheek, her mom blinked rapidly in reply.

“Oh my God,” she turned to her in horror, “How bad is it?” Seiko just gave a weak smile, “I need to go help a friend.” She waved, “I promise it’s important.” “Important enough to miss school?” Her mom kept frowning.

She gave her a thumbs up, “You betcha.” Her mom shook her head but waved her toward the door, “Don’t make it a habit.”

She shoved her shoes on, grabbed a bagged sandwich, and stuffed her fully charged cell phone into her inside pocket. She might need it. She turned as she reached the door, “I love you!”

Her mom just gaped, “Jesus, be careful.” Seiko’s mom said forcefully, but didn’t stop her as she raced out the door. The older woman tutted to herself, “Wild girl… Be home for dinner!”

Seiko streaked down the apartment steps and back into the light.

———-

Seiko once again made her way to the wedding-cake house on Townsend Street, paperless this time and taller than she had ever been. It was quiet, hushed with grey misty skies and yellow parched winter grass.

It hadn’t snowed in a few weeks and everything was frosted and bare across the naked trees and shuttered houses. It felt appropriate as Seiko made her way up the hill.

“Miss Lynne,” she practiced with herself, “I know you might not think it’s any of my business, but there’s something important I have to say,” she drew a deep breath, “I know you have your daughter’s best interests at heart, probably, maybe, but locking her away is absolutely the wrong thing! She’s a person, not a mint-condition action figure, last night was good for her!”

She mused over the words, rearranging them little by little, “She’s a young woman, not a fancy tea set to be put aside in a cupboard! Take it from me, I’m mostly-functioning, I mean I get decent grades. I mean, I’m allowed to roam around and my parents trust me to not mess up too bad. That’s good!”

She couldn’t quite make the right arguments, even to herself, but hadn’t she been trekking around neighborhoods on her bike since she before she could remember? Hadn’t she been fine? Wasn’t she evidence enough? Seiko couldn’t even imagine what Madame Lynne had to worry about in a rich neighborhood like hers anyway.

The house came up much faster than Seiko would have liked, all too familiar and yet alien at the same time. She stood on her tiptoes to peer through the fence and over the hedge, all the curtains were drawn on the house’s long Georgian windows. Seiko held her breath at the sight, pursing her lips together and inching her way toward the gate, there was no turning back now.

She touched the cold iron latch of the fairygate, resting her hands on it’s clasp and waiting for something. She closed her eyes and pushed it soundlessly open, it was time to go in. Seiko kept her back broom-straight and marched up the drive before she could talk herself out of it. She had been their paper girl, maybe that meant something.

She knocked on the door three times, jaw set and resolve hard as a cherry pit in her teeth.

“Okay, you see,” she muttered, practicing one last time, “It’s time to face the facts… This is no way to prepare your daughter for college!” Parents cared about that, they were really into colleges.

She knocked on the door again.

She counted to ten, no reply. Seiko started to huff, “Hello?” She called, “Not answering me is really unnecessary, I just want to talk!” Seiko was starting to find this childish, she screwed her face up and stomped on the hard porch. “Locking kids away isn’t good! And if you keep this up, well, I might just… call somebody. Somebody you won’t like!” She threatened, wondering if she’d actually need to prove Annalise was being mistreated to the cops.

She wondered how she might actually change things, how a conversation like ‘I think you should switch your entire parenting style’ went.

Seiko waited five more minutes with no reply.

She began to circle the house, tapping on the glass and trying to peer in, “Miss Lynne?” All the curtains were still drawn and the house was quiet as a graveyard angel, a sleeping beast to the world. “Annalise?”

Seiko circled the house again, coming back to the front door. She almost went cross-eyed staring at the big white doors, waiting for something. Seiko weighed her next move carefully, holding a single idea in place and poking at it.

There was no other choice.

“I’m coming in now.” She called out as loud as she dared, voice wobbling slightly, she turned the golden door handle and the back of her neck prickled. It wasn’t locked, the door swung open easily and revealed a dim empty house, faceless and unlit.

She gulped, this was the part in horror movies where the protagonist needed to run away, where you yelled at your TV ‘just don’t go on!’ The part where you wonder if they’re idiots or not.

Seiko took a step inside, shoulders hunched and eyes sweeping the gloomy foyer, it held a grand-staircase, blank white walls, and a short hall leading to a massive dining room. The stairs had thick pale carpet, grand wooden handrails, and a shadowed upper story. It all lacked many personal items, just a large plumy plant in the corner and coat rack off to the side.

The house smelled of dust and musky green things.

Seiko took a few more shaky footsteps inside, if the fence was the fairy gate this was surely the witch’s house.

“Anyone home?” She lifted her chin up, heart in her throat and eyes combing the emptiness, “Madame Lynne, I just have a few things to say.”

“How few?” She jerked around, someone was standing behind the door, “We prefer our deliveries outside paper girl.” Before Seiko could react, a clear crystal ball was raised in Madame Lynne’s outstretched hands, it caught the light for just a moment. A rainbow speckled across Seiko’s cheek as the ball was hoisted above her.

She didn’t even get a second to cry out, Madame Lynne brought the crystal ball down hard, pain bloomed at the top of Seiko’s head and shock sunk in like gushing ice water. She crumpled to her knees and her vision quickly spotted black.

She thought she heard a strangled cry from up above, but the world dimmed into a nothingness and was gone just as quickly.

——————–

There were voices, voices, piercing light, and an acute acrid taste in Seiko’s mouth. Seiko wanted to groan and roll away into some distant corner of sleep again.

“This is for your own good,” a voice snapped sharply.

“You don’t know what’s good for me!” a voice, Annalise, it must have been Annalise, hissed back, “This all for you.” There was a growl and a dark undercurrent to her words.

Seiko cracked her eyes open, she flinched, a pain was nestling deep in her forehead, a cruel pounding that thrashed around her frontal lobe, and this one wasn’t from a hangover. Dried blood ran down the left side of her face, making her skin stiff and eyelashes clump together when she blinked. Seiko squinted into the room around her.

It was bright, bright as flash bombs, pure white light shone from up above- a crystal chandelier hanging off a gilded silver fixture, casting diamond streaks of light and long shadows on the walls. The room itself looked like a grand bedroom, a dresser and vanity were pushed off to the side on a silvery grey carpet. Thick curtains covered the windows and the air was warm with blasting furnace heat, Seiko tensed, a large circle was drawn in the very center of the room. It looked rough, homemade, and wet, crude symbols were drawn along the edges and two blurry figures perched just outside the lines. The room smelled like unseen smoke and rotting things.

Seiko’s lips curled back, she tried to move her hands and found them tightly bound. She looked down, her wrists were tied crushingly to the arms of a high-backed chair. She had been captured.

“What the fuck?” She rocked back and forth in place, “WHAT THE FUCK.” Madame Lynne turned, she was wearing one of her dark shawls and a maroon head-covering. She looked over to Seiko like she was an unwanted chunk of mold on a piece of sweet bread.

“Who does this?” Seiko struggled against her restraints, “What the hell is this?”

“Seiko, stay calm, wait,” She looked up sharply, Annalise was sitting across from her, wearing a light blue nightdress and worry lines across every surface of her face. She was similarly tied up to a tall kitchen chair with sailor’s rope and immobilized. She was noticeably bedraggled, somehow paler and more worn, like a ghost of herself. There was something dented about her cheeks, shadowed and lifeless. Her were eyes dull and tired, a strip of tape or maybe plastic was stuck on her left cheek.

“Annalise!” She called out and tried to rock forward, she turned on Madame Lynne hotly, “Child services would definitely have your ass for this,” She narrowed her eyes, “What is it, some sort of occult thing?” She glanced at the circle, “Like, moms sacrificing their kids to satan kind of fucked-up?” She watched Annalise look bitterly over to her mom, gaze dark and unflinching. “She’s not my mom.”

“Of course I am,” Madame Lynne waved her hand dismissively, “What else would I be?” She snorted, then swiftly turned toward Seiko, stalking over to her in a sweeping shapeless dress and with outstretched clawed hands, “And you, the delivery girl,” she licked her lips, “What were you thinking? Smoke, really? Really?! Do you even know what you’ve done?” She stood back up, “Of course not, little fool.” Seiko rolled her eyes with a special type of gumption, “It was just weed, Jesus. It’s not going to kill her.” Madame Lynne lunged forward, one thin hand grabbing Seiko’s chin and jerking her head around to look her directly in the eye. “You don’t know anything.” She whispered acidicly, expression wide and empty, “You don’t what you’ve done.” Seiko sucked in a short breath, “I know you can’t treat her like this. I know this is probably pretty fucking illegal.” Madame Lynne’s lips twitched up, she released Seiko roughly and righted yourself. “You think the law means anything here?” A type of feral humor crossed her mismatched features, “Mortal enforcement wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Mortal…?” Seiko furrowed her brow, “Okay, I guess you’re definitely an alien or some sort of weird demon then. Good to know.” Madame Lynne turned to her slowly, “no, no,” she sang, “just a normal psychic woman,” she looked up at the ceiling, tone suddenly turning weary and sour. “It’s a story you’ve probably heard before.” “Oh trust me, I bet I haven’t.” Seiko tugged at her bonds, trying to loosen the grip just enough to slip her wrist out. “Try me.”

“Wait, wait, no,” Annalise shook her head vigorously, eyes wide, looking adrift and slightly sick to her stomach. “It’s not what you think… it’s not important.” Madame Lynne gave a cackling laugh, “Oh yes, you’ve heard it before. A woman who desperately wants a daughter, someone to hold and care for.” Her eyes looked misty and distant, lost somewhere. “And to care for her when she’s old and unwell.”

Seiko noticed Madame Lynne reaching into her pocket, absently retrieving something curved, pointed, and glittering from one of the deep folds. Seiko’s breath hitched, it looked like an item from an assassins medieval weapons set, a knife half the size of Seiko’s forearm balanced in the older woman’s hand.

Sweat gathered on the back of Seiko’s neck, she pulled on the ropes again.

“You wanted a daughter,” her eyes darted back to the knife in her hands, “So you had Annalise. Yeah, that’s how it works.” Madame Lynne shook her head with forlorn. “I couldn’t.” She sighed and rounded the witches circle in the bright room. “It was not in my fortunes.” Seiko frowned, tilting her head to the side. “So you adopted a daughter just to fuck with her later?” Annalise’s whole face collapsed, she twisted forward desperately, “Please… Seiko.” It sounded small, “I don’t want you to… I don’t…” She choked slightly, like a fish drowning on land.

Seiko shot her a concerned look and then turned back to the psychic. “You didn’t have to tie me to a chair for this speech.” Madame Lynne’s lips curled back, “I thought you should know what you’re going to part of.” She presented a cheerless smile. “I couldn’t have a daughter.” She continued, “So I made one.” “… Okay,” she looked back to Annalise who didn’t meet her eyes.

“I poured my love and my breath and my soul into paper and wax, pasting her together one layer at a time. A perfect beautiful daughter that I could hold and care for,” Madame Lynne sniffed, Seiko still wasn’t processing this. “The Old Ones saw me. They saw my heart’s desire, my greatest wish, all my work, and gave pity.” Madame Lynne looked up at the ceiling, a certain reverence there. “They brought my daughter to life for me.” Seiko eyes went wide, “What?” She squinted, “What?” Madame Lynne closed her eyes, “They breathed life into my beautiful paper doll.” She sighed, “and brought life to the lifeless.” Seiko sputtered, “Iike Pinocchio?”

Madame Lynne looked back to her, unsmiling. “No.”

Annalise gave a weak, sad hiccup of a laugh. “My nose doesn’t grow.” Madame Lynne tutted, “She could walk and talk, feel, learn, think, grow, live as a real girl.” Seiko’s heart started to beat faster, this was too strange. “Come on,” she relaxed into a tight smile, “Seriously? You want me to believe Annalise is some sort of… paper… person?” She moved her wrists back and forth, loosening them, “That’s crazy!”

Seiko should have come sooner to this nuthouse and done something.

“Crazy?” Madame Lynne barked a laugh, “Of course. Of course!” She turned around in a tight circle to face her daughter, “Crazy.” She reached for the tape on Annalise’s sunken cheek, “Crazy… Do you know what smoke does to paper?” She grabbed the strip. “To wax?” Seiko glared, “What the hell are you doing?” “Weakens it!” Madame Lynne yanked at the strip, a vicious tearing sound filled the room.

“No!” Seiko called out breathlessly as a chunk of Annalise’s skin was ripped away in one grisly tug. But no blood came out. No fluid, no muscle revealed or skin at all to behold.

Annalise cried out in pain, but underneath that layer of skin was just another layer: paper white, smooth, and blemishless.

Seiko gulped deeply, “You shouldn’t… do that.” She said weakly, her entire world turning upside down.

“A paper girl,” the psychic continued darkly, “can’t go out in the sun without her wax melting, can’t go into the rain without sagging, can’t touch the snow without disintegrating. Can’t eat, can’t drink,” She snarled, “I have done nothing but keep my daughter safe!”

The blood drained from Seiko’s face, she glanced between Annalise and her mom, trying to parse through this. She focused on the other girl, “Annalise…?” It was soft, a question, probing at her gently.

Annalise looked miserably down at her knees and a few long seconds passed, “I’m not her thing.” She whispered quietly, “I have my own thoughts, wants, my own life.” She jerked her head up, “I’m not her thing!”

Seiko’s mouth fell open. “No… you’re not?” She was still trying to wrap her mind around being able to make a person out of paper and wax. Madame Lynne waved at Annalise dismissively, “We’ve been over this. I needed to keep you safe,” She exhaled, “but this one.” She turned on Seiko with her nasty gleaming knife, “this one is going to change everything for us.” Seiko leaned back in her chair, “Maybe… plastic wrap?” She offered with a feeble smile, “We could laminate her.” “Haha,” the woman’s voice echoed, “You always were a funny one.” She leered, “Maybe Annalise will inherit that when you give your life for hers.”

“No?” Seiko squeaked shrilly.

“I was against such things before, but well, you broke in.” She laughed, “Who can a blame a homeowner for defending herself?” Seiko jerked her head back and forth, looking between the two women, “Annalise?” She asked in a shrill voice, sweat beading down her temples, “Haha, jokes up, nice one guys. I’ve learned my lesson, no more coming in uninvited.” Madame Lynne bent her head down, “Bone and blood.” She started to chant, “Bone and blood, bone and blood, take this flesh and take this soul, take from the corporeal make to the core, b-” “You can’t do this!” Seiko shrieked, the knife was coming carefully toward her unmarked forearm, ready to sink it’s teeth in. “You can’t make her a real girl through me!”

Madame Lynne wasn’t listening.

“No,” a thunk came from across the room, the chair across from Seiko careening over in one loud crash. Seiko and Madame Lynne snapped to attention. “You can’t.”

Annalise had ripped one hand free of the ropes, wrenching her skin to ribbons and using what was left to untie the other. She rolled out of her chair, raising to her feet with a trail of uncoiled paper hanging loosely from her left forearm.

Madame Lynne straightened up with a forced smile, “What are you doing, darling?” Annalise lifted her chin high in the air, “What I should have done a long time ago.” She went sprinting across the room, spitting and tearing like a feral cat on the attack. “Put. That. Down!”

They crashed into each other. Mother and daughter, wrestling for a silver glittering knife.

Seiko wiggled against her own harsh ropes, ugly red abscesses forming along her forearm as she struggled, she managed to loosen one of her hands enough to yank her palm out. “Ah!” A burn scorched across her skin, she gritted her teeth and tugged through the pain.

Meanwhile, Annalise grappled with her mother, clawing at her face with her battered hand and a fiery hissing force, a battle cry spilling out of her from years of bottled grief.

“I’m not yours!” She roared over and over, “You can’t have me!”

Seiko ripped at her shackles, freeing one hand and fumbling with the other tight knot with shaking fingers and breathless movements. She unbound her wrist in one swift tug and bolted to her feet instinctually, ignoring the throbbing in her arms and head.

“Annalise!” She called, voice rasping and heart pounding as if it might collapse in her chest like a straw birds nest in a hurricane. She reached out, “I’m free, we’re free, Annalise!”

Annalise glanced up from where she wrestled her mom. She looked down again, gave a final roar and tore the knife out of her mom’s hand. She took the weapon in hand, lifted it high, and threw it viciously across the room. It lodged into the wood of the house with a twang and Annalise leapt to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” she wailed and reached for Seiko, jumping up as Madame Lynne dove for the knife again.

Seiko grabbed Annalise’s good hand. “Don’t even worry.” She tried to smile, “I’ve had weirder nightmares than this.”

Annalise cringed, “It’s not over yet.”

They throw themselves at the door and toward escape. Seiko twisted the lock open and they shoot out into the dark hall with furious feet and numb legs. Annalise led them through the house, turning down a hallway and toward the quiet grand staircase. “Down, down, down.” Annalise yanked them down the stairs at a breakneck pace, running as a wordless howl chased their progress toward the blurry grey outside.

Seiko overtook her as they reached the front door, “We’re going to get you out of here.” She promised, “You’re going to be out of this house for good.” “Seiko,” Annalise squeezed Seiko’s hand painfully as Seiko tore the door open, spilling in weak wintery light. “Seiko, what she said was… true.” Annalise relented disjointedly, looking down at her feet. “I’m not… like you.”

“I don’t care,” Seiko said fiercely, “You can be a girl made of snow or cat litter or whatever the hell, but I know you’re a person! And you don’t have to stay here,” She stepped closer to her, eyes softening, “Not if you don’t want to.” Annalise looked between Seiko, the blurry outside, and then back up to her wailing mother upstairs. She set her jaw, voice thick with brimming emotion, “I don’t want to stay here.” Seiko pulled them out the door, out into the bleak day and the smooth path out, out, out. They made their way down the driveway.

“But,” Annalise followed limply behind, mind obviously whirling as they ran. “Where will I live?” She asked the open air suddenly, “Where will I go?” “Move now,” Seiko yanked open the fairy gate, “Think later.” They only had a moment to hold their breath on the precipice of the yard before a banging came from behind them. Madame Lynne burst out the front door and flung herself onto the porch rail, hair falling down in black waves and eyes bulging. “If you leave you can’t come back!” She spat, “You’re nothing but paper, I won’t have you after this.”

Annalise hovered at the edge of the property, eyes unmoving and clouded. She drew a deep breath, “I’d rather be nothing than be your ornament!” She shouted firmly, squeezed Seiko’s hand and then pulled them both through the gate. Then they were running again, panting, howling, skipping down the sidewalk toward the highway and out of Greenbriar. Out, out, out.

Madame Lynne didn’t follow.

“Wow! That was amazing, awesome, fantastic Annalise,” Seiko cheered as they danced into the middle of the empty road, hot with adrenaline and a vicious type of joy. “You did it.” Annalise looked up, smiling wearily, “It’s over.” She sighed, “it’s over.”

Seiko vibrated, “You can live in my room, I’ll roll a mat out. My mom won’t be happy, but I’m sure once I explain it to her she’ll have to. And we can sleep over and I’ll make pancakes in the morning.” Annalise was slowing down, dark eyes looking up the sky. “Seiko,” she said slowly, evenly. “This is everything I ever wanted.” Seiko glanced back at her and laughed, “Don’t say that yet, you haven’t even had the

pancakes.” Her thoughts were already going over logistics, Annalise had missed a lot of school and a lot of socializing. It would have to be a process.

But that could be handled, it could all be handled.

And then a fat wet snowdrop fell. Wet and soggy and spiked with ice, just like the downpour all those years ago with two young girls and a missing earring. The rain fell.

“No,” Seiko looked up, the world slowing into a single tiny moment. “No.” She turned, Annalise’s cheek had smeared into a wet slushy white paste, flesh sinking in like a deflating party balloon. Seiko’s eyes went wide with horror.

“Hurry,” she pushed on Annalise, “Let’s get you to a shelter. I have some… paper mache at the house, I can fix that.” Annalise just shook her head and stayed in place, more heavy droplet’s hit her forehead and shoulders, tearing at her gently.

“Go.” Her voice was wispy, watery with unshed tears, “There’s no place for me out there, I have no money, no family, no home… Go Seiko, live your life, live, you deserve it.” She stood in place, “just… remember me.” Seiko staggered backward, grabbing at Annalise. “You deserve a fucking life too,” tears stung at her eyes, she pushed on Annalise to move, to walk, but the other girl didn’t budge. Seiko gnashed her teeth, “We didn’t… we didn’t get you of there just to end here. You deserve it so much, look at me,” she sobbed, “Look at me, I’m not letting you just stand here.” Her breaths came out in distressed tiny bursts. Annalise wrapped her arms around Seiko’s neck, “that night,” Annalise’s whole face was sagging down, weighed down by pelts of snow. “It was the best moment of my entire life. Everything, it was worth every second.” “Goddammit!” Seiko planted her feet, bent down and thrust her arms underneath Annalise’s knees and armpits, hoisting her up in the air bridal style. “Stop it. It’s not going to end like this!”

Annalise took a shaky breath, “you’re going to have such a beautiful life, I can see it.” “Shut up!” Seiko ran, barely feeling her legs as she carried the light girl over to the nearest shelter. They take refuge under a large bus stop overhang. “You’re the one that’s beautiful, your life will be too.” “Look at me.” Annalise breathed, Seiko kept her gaze on the flurry of white sky above, biting her lip in two as she did. “Please.” Annalise begged, “I promise… it’ll be okay.”

Seiko forced herself to look down. Annalise was melting, skin peeling away from her face and tissues sinking inward like holes in quicksand, leaving nothing behind. “Kiss me.” Seiko’s choked on the air, tears spilling out across her cheeks in thick sheets, running freely down her face. “N-no.” She shook her head vigorously. “You’re not a thing, you’re a person, a person, you hear me? You have your whole life to figure stuff out. A whole life… to kiss.” Annalise licked her lips, leaving no moisture behind, she was folding inward, becoming even lighter in Seiko’s arms. Coming apart.

Annalise wiped gently at Seiko’s streaming tears, “I can’t come with you.” She whispered, “I knew that, I always knew it.” She took a labored breath. “This was always going to happen. But at least… it’s a good happening.”

“Fuck, no,” Seiko begged, “it’s not good, it’s awful. This can’t… I can’t…” Annalise gave a weak smile, “Go. See the world, fall in love, make something, be anything, you were always made for life Seiko.” Seiko shook her head vigorously, “You can’t,” she was hyperventilating, “You can’t talk like that.” Annalise closed her eyes, “I can’t stay.” “No!” She wailed, “You can’t. I- I love you.”

Annalise just nodded, “Oh Seiko, I won’t be the last one to love you,” she stroked her cheek, “there’s so much for you.”

And then she was kissing her. Wet and crumpling and filled with a vigorous force she couldn’t explain. Annalise’s hands ran through Seiko’s damp hair and they kiss with the anguish of bursting stars and holes boring into the ozone. It’s harsh and gentle as a settling frost and whisper on the wind.

They kiss and kiss, tears spilling from her eyes and a hard begging in every crevice of her: no, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

She kissed until nothing but cold air touched her lips. Seiko opened her eyes, she was holding a limp nightdress and wet paper folding into a pile of unrecognizable mush, disintegrating at every angle. A collapsed paper doll. “No!” She shrieked, tearing at her vocal cords in a shattering sob, “Annalise, Annalise,” she pulled the wet paper to her chest and rocked it back and forth. “Say something, goddammit, Annalise! Annalise, I love you.” The wet paper didn’t respond, just folded silently into the soggy ground and disappeared with nothing but Seiko and the snow as witnesses. Seiko cried until there was nothing left to cry.

—————–

Seiko quit the soccer team. Liza said she understood, Seiko told her that maybe their friendship could use a small break. She told June she was making her own film, they could watch it together sometime.

She told her mom she loved her, she told her father he was doing a good job, and whispered to her little sister she was going to make a better path forward, for the both of them.

She told them that she liked girls, that she liked movies, and that she liked not working and going out sometimes. They took her out for a long drive and Seiko drove the hole way back herself.

Seiko put her pen to paper that night: Dear Annalise,

I won’t forget you. Her hands shook like dried autumn leaves, I’m 16 now, maybe I wasn’t before. I wish you were here. I’m going to the movies with a girl, I’m going to start reading that book about trees you liked.

I’m going to go live my life, whatever you meant by that, and I’m going to make something beautiful. For us.

Love, always,

Seiko.