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winchester90210 · 5 years

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The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x03: Every Dream Has It’s Price Tag

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

Chapter Summary: Y/N pays a visit to Brandon at his new job.

Pairing: Patience is a virtue, guys.

Warning: Swearing, feelings, minimal editing

Disclaimer: My work is not to be reposted or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

A/N: Third episode is up! It’s a little short this time, but I enjoyed getting into romance novel territory with the descriptions this time. Next episode is a doozy, it’s one of my favorites. The First Time– Brandon’s old girlfriend from Minneapolis pays a visit.

The bell rings as Ms. Rye finishes her lecture,

“Okay, papers due on Monday. Remember, I want you to explore how…one decision, one event can change one’s whole life.”

You and Brenda both shuffle to get your things in order before standing up. She turns to Tiff as she and Kelly walk out of the room.

“Hey, Tiff, that was really funny what you said,”

“Who was trying to be funny?” She responds, mocking tone in her voice. You weren’t sure who Tiff was, exactly. Rumors say she was best friends with Kelly until they had a blowout over some guy and it didn’t end well. You didn’t have the best feeling about her, whoever she is.

“Male, female, root for your school, West Beverly’s team on against Beverly High, no fail! And don’t get lured by that sweet sweet nitro sale s-s-sale sale sale!” Once again, the D.J’s voice calls out, which marks the end of another glamorous day at West Beverly.

You spot Brandon, taking down names and numbers off the corkboard, hair blowing lightly in the breeze.

“You job hunting?” You ask, looking up at the different flyers and ads sprawled out amongst the board.

“Yeah, I’m just doing my bit for car insurance, you know,” He studies the board, writing things down as he goes.

“Anything looking good yet?”

“Well, I got uh, “Garden Graphics, Veggie Heaven Produce, This Town Restaurant.” I think we’re talking slam dunk here, Y/N/N,“ He jokes, tapping his pencil on his notepad.

You laugh, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Hey, if your mom is anything like mine, she’d kill for a discount at Veggie Heaven,” you jest,“I gotta run, I promised Brenda I’d go shopping with her and Kelly. Good luck!” You tap your hand on his arm before walking off.

“Thank, Y/N/N.”

“‘Inverted Nipple Trouble?’ Pass. ‘Are you always attracted to losers? Here’s how to break the cycle,’” Tiff laughs at the magazine in her hand while Kelly searches through the tracks.

“Ugh, here is the cycle,” Kelly groans as she walks past Steve, with David Silver at his side.

“Trust me, dude. They’ll drool over this stuff,” Steve convinces, spraying a little black bottle of cologne on the collar of the much younger boy.

“Aw, finally found someone your own maturity level to play with, Steve?” You tease, joining Brenda at the other set of racks. Steve rolls his eyes and turns away from you.

“Oh, hey Tiff. How is that waterbed?” He smirks, turning back to the gold cologne wall.

“Kelly and Tiffany got nuclear over Steve,” Kelly’s friend gossips. Wow. Steve was the guy that tore them apart? Who would fight over him? Doesn’t exactly sound worth it.

“Details, please!” Brenda leans into her, interest piqued.

“But It was intense fallout. They just started speaking this semester in English class.”

You all grab the things you want to try on, and all five of you scurry into the freshly painted dressing rooms. You find a blue floral mini dress with cropped sleeves. It was so cute. And so two hundred dollars. Bummer.

“Do you really think one event can change your whole life?” Brenda asks, muffled by the white doors of the dressing rooms.

“Sure, like in pretty woman? Sorry Julia Roberts, but I’d wear this on the plane with Richard Gere.” Kelly responds. Such a deep thinker, that girl.

“No, I mean like what Ms. Rye was talking about– one thing you do ruining your entire life… I dont know, forget it.” Brenda continues.

“I don’t know, maybe,” You ponder. Your mind runs through the events of that night at the Bel Age. What would have happened if you stayed? Just being there for 30 more minutes probably would’ve caused you to bang Dylan’s brains out. That couldn’t be a good thing. You barely knew him, for one. You had to handle one confusing crush at a time. I mean, not that your thing with Brandon was really a crush, more of an appreciation… for a friend… that happens to be attractive. You didn’t like him like him.

“Maybe it wasn’t ruined,” Tiff calls out, “Maybe he wanted it that way.”

You change back into your normal clothes, fighting with yourself over the dress. Your parents would kill you if you spent all of your money on one dress. It was a totally cute, show-stopping dress, though. Go for it.

You walk over to the check-out counter with Kelly. You may be smart, but at this very moment you’re feeling weak.

The next morning you trot into english class, setting your bag down with a thud.

“Do you remember, Jake kissed like a wall?” Kelly giggles, practically linked at the hip with Tiff.

“OMG yeah, but he was better than the Lizard remember?” She sticks out her tongue, making a gross slurping noise while she walks to her desk.

You sit at yours, next to Brenda.

Tiff turns to both of you, “Hey!”

“Hey,” You give her a half smile, taking your book out from your bag.

“Hey, cool dress!” Brenda smiles, a nervous tick in her voice.

“Yeah, it’s a kick for sure!” Tiff spins around, posing before sliding into her seat. You notice Kelly roll her eyes in annoyance before sitting down.

“How nice of you to model for us,” Ms. Rye jokes.

“Ms. Rye?” Brenda asks, sneaking over to the teacher, “Um, I was just wondering, who’s more guilty– someone like in Les Mis who didn’t want to steal but had to, or someone who wanted to but didn’t?”

“That’s an interesting moral twister, um, and we’ll get to that,” She’s cut off by the bell, “now.”

You’re lying on your bed, eyes closed, finally getting some wel deserved peace and quiet. Away from all the gossipy peers, drama, and Tiffany. She exhausted you. You feel yourself drifting off to sleep, but the deafening ring of the phone jolts you up. Who could be calling this late? Why?

You sit up and grab your phone, answering it with a groggy “Hello?”

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I can call someone-” You can’t help but smile sleepily at the sound of his voice.

“Brandon?”

“Yeah…listen, can you pick me up? I took the bus to work today and they don’t run this late at night,”

“So… You need a ride? I can do that. This Town?”

“Yeah,”

“See you in 10,” You hang up, frantically fix your hair, and throw on that $200 dress. You tiptoe down the stairs and out the door, not wanting to wake up your parents. Hopping in your brother’s 1990 Red Mustang Covertible, you slowly back out of the driveway and over to the bistro.

You pull into the parking lot, and see Brandon anxiously pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. You step out of the car, the cool nighttime air almost cold enough to leave you shivering.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Brandon Walsh, Beverly Hills’ own Working Girl,” you tease, a smile on your face. He smiles back, pushing the long blue sleeves of his sweater up his arms. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,”

Your tired eyes meet his own. You get lost in the blue of them, admiring the way the moonlight looks on his face… Until the clearing of a throat shakes you out of your trance. You both silently get in the car, and you pull out of the parking lot.

“How was it?”

“I’m beat, the job’s a total bitch,” He confides.

“Really? It at least pays well, though. Right?”

“You know, that’s what I thought walking in there…but I make next to nothing, and these guys I work with, these– Vietnamese, Portuguese, Israelites, they’re coming here with no money and they’re getting completely exploited. They’re working for pine nuts,” He explains, a frustrated tone in his voice. He’s always looking to make things better for other people, it’s something you picked up on quickly since moving to Beverly Hls. It’s one of the things you quickly grew to love about him… Something that shines brightly in times like these.

“Wow…is there anything you can do?”

He sighs, resting his head against the seat. “I don’t know,”

The streets are totally dead, totally quiet. Peaceful. Only the occasional car comes around every so often. The crickets are loud tonight, though. Filling up the empty space. You see something as you stop at a red light.

“Hey, Bran? What’s that?” You smirk.

You point over to it, a large automobile, stopped at a red light with “Beverly Hills Transit” painted on the side. He looks over, and a smile– a goofy, nervous one, spreads across his face.

He stays quiet for a moment, the smile sticking to his face, shaking his head slightly. “It’s a bus.” You both look at each other and then back at the bus, slowly. You start breaking into a fit of tired giggles. You slowly get Brandon, who’s majorly exhausted from work, going too. So now you’re both sitting at a red light, giggling ike idiots. At a bus. A bus that wasn’t supposed to be there, according to Brandon.

Instead of overthinking the situation, you just drive him home, both of you giddy from exhaustion. You pull into his driveway, putting the car in neutral. This has been a weird night. Fun, but weird.

“Thanks for driving me home,” he says, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. You give him a soft “mhmm,” in return. And, like earlier, you’re staring into his eyes again, and he’s staring into yours. You’re drifting closer and closer…

And then his mom comes out. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nod in response, leaning back to your normal sitting position.

“Goodnight, Brandon,” You sigh. Happily, sleepily, defeated.

“Goodnight, Y/N,”

Sunday night came, and you were getting ready to go out to This Town with Dylan for dinner, to go pay Brandon a visit. You had told your parents you were going to study at the library with a friend, which…okay, this time it was a total lie, but you weren’t doing anything illegal. So it’s okay. You apply your red lipstick before heading out the door. You see Dylan in his black Porsche Speedster ,parked down the street. Just far enough to avoid creating suspicion from your parents. Perfect.

“So, was this place any good when you went?” You ask, perusing the menu.

“It was alright. Small portions, fancy plates. Good cumin,”

“Brandon’s been running the entire time we’ve been here, I don’t think I’ve even seen him take a breath,” You chuckle, watching him make his rounds. He was nothing if not a hard worker.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Dylan inquires, watching you watch Brandon.

“Come on, we’ve been over this. Brandon’s one of my best friends,” you insist, setting down your menu. You pause. “Okay. maybe I…I do like him. But I wouldn’t ever act on it. He’s kind of attractive, so what? He’s still my friend.” Brandon makes his way closer to your table.

“Yo, boy!” Dylan gets Brandon’s attention, who’s getting swamped with dishes from other employees.

“Hey!” He calls back, turning around. You admire him in his all-white uniform. It shouldn’t look so good on him, yet you’re breathless.

“'This Town,’” Dylan begins, reading the restaurant’s menu, “'This Town is an eating experience for the morning moments, a medley of sages, cumin bouquets, fragrant vegetable jewels,’” he drops the menu onto the table, then proceeds to drop his head, fake snoring. You and Brandon laugh at his antics, but Brandon’s interrupted by his boss not long after.

“Many people would love your job,” She states, black curls hair-sprayed into place as she moves along.

“Yeah, love that minimum wage,” He remarks, sarcasm rolling off his tongue. An asian man steps beside him, helping him with his work.

“You get minimum wage? Congratulations,”

“Yeah, right, same to you,” Brandon responds, raising his eyebrows.

“None of us do,” The man replies. Brandon cocks his head at that, turning to the man.

“That’s illegal!”

“So? Who’s going to do anything?” His coworker walks back into the kitchen. You see the look on Brandon’s face and you can tell…shit’s about to hit the fan. He stomps over to his boss at the counter.

“Listen–”

“I loathe apologies, make it up to me, Brendon, the cumins need filling,” his boss nags, putting on makeup in a compact mirror.

“It’s Brandon! Brandon Walsh! I’m an investigative reporter for the West Beverly newspaper–”

You watch Brandon rant and rave from your table, not able to quite make out what he’s saying because of the loud music. He starts unbuttoning his white coat while he vents.

“Uh oh…uh oh…Dylan, why is he stripping?” You tap him on the arm frantically to get his attention.

“What, I thought you’d like that,” Dylan jokes, playful grin on his lips.

“Oh, shut up!” You laugh, taking the little ball of paper from your straw and throwing it at his face. “I hate you.” You manage to catch the last bit of the conversation.

“…How you scam your help for under minimum wage! So you can take your cumin, and you can shove it,” Brandon slams his white coat down on the counter, walking back to you guys. Wow. You don’t know whether to be amused, proud, or incredibly turned on. All three?

“Take a load off, Minnesota. ‘Dinner Delectable’ is on me,” Dylan encourages, pulling out a seat for Brandon. You can almost see the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Whew, free at last, free at last. Thank god almighty–” he stops the waitress, “Excuse me, can I get a round cup and a round saucer? And I’d like it before the second coming please,” Dylan shakes his head and silently laughs, while your jaw is slightly slack, loving whatever mood Brandon’s in right now. “Come on, let’s get out of here. ”

“Done deal, I know just the place,” all three of you catwalk out.

The Peach Pit

Brandon takes a spoonful of apple pie, “The job wasn’t just to support my car insurance habit,” he tells you. “My dad’s always worked.”

The owner of the diner leans in, both hands on the counter, “He sounds as bonkers as me.” You take a bite of your own pie as he continues, “I was 10 when I worked my first big character part in an old bogie film. There was a real pro with a sweet tooth,”

“Now I know why you dragged me all the way out here,” Brandon turns to Dylan, who’s on the other side of you.

“Best pie in L.A., food for real people,”

“Here’s to real cups and real saucers,” you quip, and all three of you raise your glasses. You look around the diner, pictures upon pictures on the walls, pink wallpaper, and rock and roll music.

“Take it or leave it,” The owner, Nat smiles.

“What I like, is you get a real cross-section of people, you know?” Dylan comments, bringing his tea to his lips.

“This really is a nice place you’ve got here,” You smile fondly.

“Listen, uh, Dylan here has been bugging me about hiring someone to help me out, I figure who would be nuts enough to want this bit? Take you, you look nuts enough,” He faces Brandon, raising his eyebrows.

“Take me!” Brandon exclaims. Oh, those were words you dreamt of hearing come out of this mouth. “I’m nuts enough!” Dammit. He’s so cute.

“I’ll vouch for that,” you giggle.

“Me too, I’ll even waive my commission,” Dylan says.

“So, when do I start?”

“How about right now?” All three of you exchange cheeky smiles.

The night ends after a few slices of pie, some milkshakes, and a curfew that’s about to break.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Y/N/N,” Dylan thanks as you slide into the passengers seat. You smile at him as he pulls out of the diner’s parking lot, and turns down the street, his engine humming and the crickets chirping. You look at him for a moment, lost in your thoughts. You admire him, the night sky, and the fresh, cool, nighttime air. You speak up.

“I don’t want to go home yet,”

Tags: @be-patient-be-good @fangirl-imagines @lilo-1988 @bevelyhills90210

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franeridart · 6 years

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*SOBS* IM JUST SO GLAD YOURE BACK

Aw thank you !!!!! It’s really just thanks to the past couple of days of cooler weather tho, ngl hahaha the earth has been indulgent to me, this past week!

Anon said:I really liked that wgole bakushima gem thing! What would bakugou do if kirishima somehow got corrupted and couldnt reverse it? (Without the other diamonds)

Thank you for liking it!!!! And I guess he’d just go ask the other diamonds? Well, he would never let it get to that, but if it were the only option it’s not like he’d leave Kiri like that!

Anon said:Quick, someone put a flashlight on diamond!Kiri

He’d be shinier than Aoyama and Hagakure using her special move put together !!!!!!! v pretty~

Anon said:your kiribaku gem AU inspired me so much that i’m finally watching steven universe just so i can understand it better because what i did understand was that i loved it

OH MAN I hope you’ll enjoy it!!!! It’s a bit silly and all over the place through the first season, but try to give it time !!

Anon said:Hi! I went and checked out your fan art for Kuroko no Basket and I absolutely adore AoKaga! Your AoKaga works make me so happy! I love them all!

Ohhhhh man thank you so much !!!!!!!!!! it’s super old stuff tho how did you even find it hhhhh haha

Anon said:Hello hello! here w bad news a instagram page posted your art and i know you dont like repost so im informing you. The page is kags.fujoshi and it was posted july 23

Yeh I know, I’ve been trying to report it and the other one I’ve been being told about but instagram won’t let me submit the thing so I guess this is how things are and I’ll just die mad about it since instagram likes to make things as hard and impossible to me as it can

Anon said:Bless your art

Thank you ;;;;;

Anon said:Omg literally your kiribaku Steven universe crossover is so fucking perfect thank you for blessing us with it; I’d love to see more if you have anything or feel like ever doing more about it but I don’t want to pressure you or anything, do what you want to do and what makes you happy :) Take care!

Ahhhhhh thank you so much!!!!! I’m super glad you liked it this much!!!!!!!

Anon said:✨Gentle reminder to take care of yourself today ✨

You too, anon!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Everytime I see you upload new art I end up looking through and loving your entire BNHA Art tag. It’s so wonderful

gAH thank you so SO much!!!!!!!!!! don’t waste so much time on my blog, tho hahaha

Anon said:heya! I was just wondering if u had any short bakukiri one-shot fic recommendations. i prefer to read short things bc i have some learning difficulties and i was hoping u might know some good simple reads. Thanks! (

Aw man sorry but I really don’t have the time to make a rec list rn ;; if you’re fine with it this is the tag on AO3 filtered so that it shows only complete content with a max word count of 5000 starting from the one with most kudos going down, the first ones showing are all super good fics - in case you’re not okay with explicit content you can filter that too (if youre not okay with mature either just check that out as well) and to go further this is the tag excluding the fics tagged as tddk cause that’s not what you’re looking for and the tddk and krbk fandom sure like to put each other in the listed relationships even if the fic isn’t about them (it excludes some krbk fics too but what can we do about that)

Anon said:ASDFGHKRNOFNE your last doodle killed me!!!! soft todoroki

AHHHHH I’m super glad you liked them !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;;;

Anon said:I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of your art, you beautiful gift you

Thank you smmmmm ;;;

Anon said:I am taking the SU story down for now. Please, let me know if I have your permission to post it, or if you don’t want me to. // And just to clarify - I’m not deleting the story out of spite or anything. I wrote it as a “get-well-soon” gift, but since you make it very clear you want to know how your art is used and that you must give your approval, I began to fear it would become a source of annoyance to you rather than something nice. I can put it back up if you want me to.

I don’t mind you writing the story or posting it, so if you wanna upload it again go for it! For future reference tho, if you’re in a rush to get an answer out of me (referring to the message where you asked if it was okay) your best bet is to go off-anon since those I always answer privately and as soon as I can. It can take me up to over a week to answer anon asks here, which I’d guess is sort of obvious? so seriously next time you’re in a rush to get an answer it’s better if you don’t go through the anon option!!

Anon said:HI I LOVE YOUR ART IT’S GORGEOUS AHHHHHHH

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

Anon said:How long does it take t draw one artwork for you?

Some things ten minutes, some things three days of work, it really depends on what I’m drawing? If it’s bw or colored, if it has a bg, if it’s a bust or a full body, if it’s one person or five, one drawing or a full comic, how used I am to drawing the character vs how new it is, how easy the clothes are and how many details there are on them - if you sent me an example I could specifically tell you how long it took me!

Anon said:is bakugo ticklish? what do u think?

Bakugou is ticklish but the immediate aftermath of tickling Bakugou is to be blasted into kingdom come so maybe better not to tickle him unless you’re Kiri and can protect yourself

Anon said:Bakukirikami is some good stuff my dude

It sure as heck is! Lately my old stuff for them is getting a bunch of new notes, I’m assuming people are getting into it thanks to the anime haha the magic of the license exam my doods

Anon said:hey I hope I don’t sound creepy but, I just want to say that your art really makes me happy and that you’re one of my favorite artist out there. So even if somtimes you feel like your art sucks I want you to know that I think it’s beautiful! Hope you’re doing well!

You don’t sound creepy at all!!!!! thank you SO MUCH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:i live for ur kamisero art just saying

I haven’t drawn much of that, have I? I’m glad you like it tho!!!! Thank you!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Mako and Tai ♥️♥️

!!!

Anon said:This isn’t an ask, just that I love your art style and it reminds me of a beautiful and cute point and click adventure, “Harvey’s new eyes ” and “Ednas break out” Its very cute and pretty just like your art style and I love both ^^

Oh man thank you!!!

Anon said:Q U O R K

I honestly can’t even remember if this is just a random ask or if it was referring to something specific, ngl (if it’s the second, sorry about my memory being like this orz)

Anon said:Gah I keep missing preorders! I’ve only ever really wanted 2, and each time, don’t have any money, til after they’re done 😢 oh well, I guess. Hope you’re doing well!

If you’re referring to the takemyhand zine, preorders are still going tho!!! and thank you!!!!

#fran answers #SOME ASKS!!#i didn't get to everyone who mentioned the reposts but yeh that's how the situation is #im still trying but things are how they are so there's that #i #really hate instagram ngl #but you know how it is #breathe in breathe out let it go don't think about it #it's useless to stress over stuff you can do anything about after all haha #anonymous

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 7 years

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Modern Animorphs AU (part 2)

@jollysunflora : The second half of my complete list of modern AU Animorphs headcanons, approximately one per book.

28. “Ax,” Marco says, “How come you can roll out ‘venti dulce de leche dark-chocolate frappuchino extra whip’ without batting an eye, but you giggle every time you have to say the word ‘soy’?”

“It has so many vowel—owl?—sounds, in so little space,” Ax says. “That long sssssssssss, so pleasant on the tongue, but then that odd oooyyy ooy-yah? All in the back of the mouth. Very strange. Sssoooy. Ssususs-oooyaaa.”

“Also, he’s moved on from the frappuchinos,” Tobias adds. “Now he keeps spending all our hard-stolen bitcoins on espresso mack... mach...”

“Espresso macchiato con panna,” Ax explains. “Doppio.”

29. Cassie feels herself sweating as she props the laptop across the room from her, tools laid out and Ax unconscious on the table. She never expected to find a YouTube video on how to perform brain surgery—and to be honest, it’s actually about “how neurosurgeons perform an orbitozygomatic craniotomy,” not intended to be a how-to manual—but it’s the best she can do under the circumstances, and so she’ll follow along for now.

MM3. “That’s the kind of strong leadership we need.” Jake gestures to the full-color television (this year’s latest model) where a program of their current leader plays on a loop. “Keeping the wrong kind of people out of this country, saving America for the right kind of Americans.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Rachel says. She and Tobias and Jake are the only three Animorphs, except when Melissa joins them sometimes, and listening to their “Supreme Leader” blather on gets old sometimes. “All I want to know is whether it’s true that within a few years people will really have phones that plug into their cars. That’d be cool.”

Tobias rubs his eyes against the silk of his wing feathers. They itch constantly, since he doesn’t have a gas mask to wear every time he goes out into the pollution-opaque air outside the way that his human friends do. Jake and Rachel take bets sometimes, idly, brutally, about whether he’s the last raptor left on the face of the planet.

“Magnificent!” Drode appears in their midst, and both the Berensons immediately point guns at his head.

30. Marco is lying on his bed the day after watching Eva fall, staring at a patch of wall above his dresser, when he registers that his phone has been buzzing for a while now. It goes off so many times he assumes he has to be getting a call, but when he checks his notifications he just discovers he’s gotten seventeen text messages in the last hour.

The first is from “Smurfette,” and says “Did you know that there is a type of food that involves baking a cinnamon bun inside of a donut? We must secure as many of these as it is possible for a human to consume, as soon as possible!”

The next one, from “Hawkgirl,” reads: “found out recently that apparently ax still thinks you invented flea powder. i told him that if youd invented flea powder wed all be a lot richer right now.”

“Team Dad” (not to be confused with “Real Dad,” which is how Marco lists Peter) sent along several invitations to team missions on League of Legends this afternoon, along with a threat to have Cassie play Marco’s avatar if Marco doesn’t join in. “we both know that by the time you get back you’ll have only healing attacks and she’ll have trained it to apologize automatically for stabbing people,” Jake adds.

One of the many texts from “Julia Butterfly Hill” suggests that Jake has underestimated Cassie’s diabolical streak, because it’s a screenshot of a clone of his account which has had its name changed to HarambeWasFramed.

The real surprise, however, is the single text from “Xena: Warrior Princess.” It’s a link to an article about a disaster in the local national park and the efforts to clean up the wreckage of an as-yet-unidentified craft which went down in the canyon. Marco has to read it a few times to understand the point she’s making, because it’s all about what’s not there: the article makes no mention of any human bodies being found among the wreckage.

Marco gets halfway through typing a reply to them all which informs them in no uncertain terms that he sees through their transparent attempts to cheer him up and doesn’t appreciate it, but he deletes without sending. He can practically hear his mom’s voice saying it: he can focus on the fact that he’s still surrounded by people who love him, or he can focus on the negative side of everything. And being constantly negative is no way to live.

31. “Sharing this again, because its been 3 months,” Jake’s cousin Brooke posts on Facebook. “Anyone who has any news at all about Saddler, no matter what it is, PLEASE contact my family. Big brother, I dont know if youre still out there, but I miss you. I miss you like crazy.”

Jake turns up his Spotify’s Offspring channel a little louder to drown out the sounds of Tom and his dad shouting at each other downstairs. His eyes flinch past Brooke’s post, but they can’t move fast enough to prevent the thought that flashes across the surface of his mind: Is this going to be me a year from now?

32. Tobias texts Rachel and Jake an article from Audubon.Org, where several birdwatchers are going into ecstasies of scientific fascination at the bald eagle and peregrine falcon seen flying in close formation in a cell-phone video taken near a highway overpass downtown. His only comment is, “Told you so.”

33. In the aftermath, Rachel does a Google search: “PTSD treatment symptoms outcomes.” She reads through the WebMD site, the NIMH page, the Wikipedia link to a DSM-5 entry. She thinks of Tobias’s withdrawn silences, his antipathy toward so much they used to enjoy, but she thinks of other things as well. How exhausted Jake seems any time they’re not on-mission. How badly Cassie flinches when the school bell rings and doors slam. How Ax seems to be gradually losing interest in the things—cooking shows, new condiments, human history trivia, These Messages—that once drew his fascination. How last week Marco flicked an ant off the back of his hand and then went white like he’d just kicked a puppy. How good it had felt when she’d hurt David, spreading the pain around, giving it back.

She catches an Uber to the clinic downtown, filling out forms in the waiting room based on the checklist written on her phone for “how to get tobias an ssri”: Yes, she often feels tense and worried. Yes, her heart often races for no reason. No, she hasn’t thought of ending her life. No, she doesn’t feel out of control when she eats.

She gets as far as developing a cover story—it’s about how she’s never felt the same since her parents’ divorce—but in the hallway to the office she panics and calls Cassie. “Am I doing the right thing?” she asks, after she’s explained.

Cassie is silent for a long time, never a good sign. “I’m not sure an SSRI would work on a bird,” she says at last, “and that’s even if we could figure out a dose that would work without killing him. I know you want to help, and I think you should, but...”

Rachel hears what she’s not saying: but what if her mom asks too many questions? But is this risk really worth it? But what if the psychiatrist (the receptionist, the pharmacist) is a controller? But isn’t it them, and only them, against the world, and isn’t that just how it has to be?

“The war won’t last forever,” Cassie says weakly, and Rachel hates her a little for it. “When it’s over, when we get to tell everyone what’s happening...”

Rachel hangs up. She goes home, morphs, and flies out to the woods.

«You know I love you, right?» she asks Tobias later that evening.

«Of course I do.» He sounds exhausted. She’s never felt more helpless in her life.

34. The Yeerk Peace Movement, as it comes out, has a Twitter feed. It is rather painfully obvious that it has been set up and run entirely by aliens who are doing their very best to communicate with humans, and not quite succeeding. Most of the posts are couplets, for some reason that none of the Animorphs can fathom.

“Want to be On Fleek? When you see someone’s rights threatened, speak!”

“Don’t be a Belieber anymore - end slavery and even the score.”

“#tbt: Remember when we were symbiotes? Give taxxon freedom your sympathy votes!”

“Nickelback is super lame, and keeping involuntary hosts is just the same.”

“Respect your host’s rights today, and make your human into your bae!”

35. It’s Marco who comes up with the idea for how to take down William Roger Tennant. This is a guy, after all, whose cockatiels have their own Instagram account: he runs his fame on the internet.

“It's simple,” Marco explains. “We start a hashtag—#notsonicetennant—and we make it go viral. All we have to do is film this guy everywhere he goes, and eventually the yeerk will slip up.”

It proves not to be simple after all. Their gif of Tennant twitching madly mid-EPA speech gets overshadowed by the news story about One Direction nearly getting poisoned with spiders at the same banquet. Ax does not understand the concept of hashtag, and keeps adding #notsonicetennant to his retweets of what Marco calls “food porn.” They train one of Tobias’s repurposed GoPros to follow poodle-Marco, but that becomes a meme mocking the world's most obnoxious stray dog rather than Tennant himself.

The plan finally, finally comes off when they pull out all the stops and just confront him in morph. The smartphones that Rachel rigged up in the surrounding buildings don't pick up the thought speak, but the audio of Tennant screaming at the aliens to leave him alone comes through just fine.

When the scandal breaks, the internet (in truly predictable fashion) drops #notsonicetennant and starts using #tennantgate instead.

Ax reposts an old photo of Tennant eating a quinoa salad—zoomed in on the salad—and tags it #tennantgate. All of his teammates assure him they appreciate the attempt.

36. “All right, that’s just weird,” Marco says, looking at the final entry in the underwater creepshow they’ve been walking through for the past hour. “All the other ships have been getting more modern as we’ve gone, but this one? Looks like it was made in the sixties, at the latest.”

«The world’s creepiest museum curators are getting sloppy with the placement of bodies as well,» Tobias points out. «There’s no way that many people could fit on a boat that small. They’re practically falling over the sides.»

Jake and Cassie look at each other, seeing the same realization reflected in each other’s eyes. Neither one of them wants to say it out loud.

Jake becomes the one to bite the bullet. “Don’t you get it?” He points to the ragged clothes, the emaciated bodies, the modern smartphone tucked in among the antiquated radio equipment. “They were refugees.”

37. Rachel shuts the window on the library computer as soon as she hears someone walk into the room, but she can tell she was too late by the look on Jake’s face when she turns around.

“Roy Ludvig, huh?” Jake says. “Heck of a name.”

“He was at the T.V. studio when we attacked.” Rachel looks down, picking at her nail polish. “No civilians were supposed to be in danger.”

Jake’s expression softens, as much as it ever does. “And now you’re scrolling through his Facebook, looking for something that’ll let you sleep at night.”

“He’s got a grandson,” Rachel blurts. “Jordan’s age. He...” She shrugs. He’s dead, and it’s more or less her fault.

“Shouldn’t be looking on Facebook.” Jake sets his phone on the library table next to her, taps the screen to bring up an official-looking report. “You should be, say, borrowing my dad’s computer. Sending an email from his account to ask for the guy’s medical records. If you had, you’d know that Mr. Roy Ludvig had a heart condition. That he had maybe a year to live, at most, and doctors said he might die at any old time.”

Rachel looks down at the report for a long time, and eventually looks up at Jake. “Doesn’t make it okay, what I did,” she says. “He’s still dead.”

Jake shrugs. “You don’t have to forget it ever happened, but you do have to live with it. Live, and fight another day.”

38. In the aftermath of Estrid's visit, Tobias is flying over the boardwalk when he sees a henna artist who clearly smokes way too much pot to be a Yeerk. He gets Ax, they morph human, and both get henna tattoos of Elfangor's name. (Ax had previously expressed an admiration for the human tradition of commemorating a lost loved one by making markings on one's body.) They know the tats will disappear when they demorph, but they're both glad they did it. The artist asks how long they've been together, and Tobias says in a scandalized voice, “he's my UNCLE!” Thus, Tobias succeeds in both of his goals: making Ax laugh, and reminding him he has family here on Earth. Honestly, the reminder doesn't hurt Tobias either.

39. “You know, not all squirrels are like that,” Marco is fond of saying after a morph goes wrong. “Not all termites are horrifying worker drones.” Sometimes it’s, “You know, some of my best friends are fleas.”

It’s Cassie, however, who gets the last laugh out of that one. «You know, Marco,» she says as they swim away from the wreckage of the helicopter, «Not all ants are like that, right? I shouldn’t say that all ants are killers, right?»

Marco stares at her in silence while the others snicker, watching him war between the two impulses: to keep the joke going forever, and to express his honest hatred of ants.

«Come on.» And now Rachel has joined in on the teasing. «You’re just going to let that kind of besmirching of the ant community stand?»

«Okay, okay!» Marco gives in. «Ants suck. Yes, all ants!»

40. “Our experts have examined the video extensively, and near as we can conclude, this footage is genuine and unedited,” the newscaster says. “Given how viral this video has proven to be, with over two million views since it was posted to YouTube on Wednesday, everyone wants to know: is this footage proof that aliens exist? Is this a publicity stunt for the upcoming Fantastic Beasts sequel? Or, as one YouTube commenter asks, did a Smurf just have sex with a centaur?”

«Potential new ally?» Tobias suggests. He’s already tapping out a search for the original video in his modified tablet.

Ax laughs. «Of course not. He’s crippled. A vecol. Useless. We must respect the privacy of his isolation.»

“You know what? Fuck that,” Marco snaps. He shoves to his feet, posture tight with anger. “Just... Fuck that,” he tells Ax. “I have ADHD. Attention Deficit whateverthefuck. I take a pill every morning to help me function because my brain isn’t good enough to filter stimuli all by itself. I got a fucking 135 on the world’s most boring IQ test and I’m still failing half my classes. I’m a vecol. You think I’m useless, huh? You gonna start refusing to talk to me because of some bullshit about ‘respecting’ my ‘privacy’? Huh?”

«That’s different,» Ax says. «You’re not...» He doesn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence.

«If he’s an exception, I hope I am too,» Tobias says more gently. «I got screened for anxiety disorders as a kid, and I guess we’ll never know if I qualify or not, ‘cause my aunt decided that doctors cost money and if the test said I needed one then she didn’t want to know about it.»

Ax doesn’t answer for a long time. He doesn’t seem to know where to look.

«Let’s go tell the others what we found.» Tobias taps a button to send the video to himself. «We can talk more about this later.»

MM4. Tobias flinches when his phone makes the small ping sound that means he has an alert. The new kid is the easy target in every school on the planet. He wonders what it’ll be this time: another Facebook post where the semi-anonymous account Toby IsALoser tags him in another meme about how he has to pay people for sex because the sight of his body would make any normal girl run away screaming, another unnamed Instagram ping telling him he should kill himself so that no one has to look at his stupid fat face anymore, another Snapchat image of a puddle of vomit with the caption “me when I think of you,” an email with the most disgusting gif anyone could find after a quick search...

It’s not, though. It’s an invite to join a private Facebook group, called The Sharing, with several hundred local members. Most of the names Tobias recognizes are cool older kids from the high school. Intrigued, willing to trust for the moment that this isn’t some ridiculously elaborate prank, Tobias clicks “join.”

41. Jake looks around at the enormous open field, concrete pitted with openings and low hovels of corrugated steel and rebar. He can see for nearly half a mile in every direction before the smog makes it impossible, and the tallest things around are the hunched hork-bajir. “Where are we?” he asks.

Cassie frowns. “This? Jake, this is downtown Manhattan.”

He gapes at her. “What happened to it?”

“Tall buildings are targets for drone strikes,” she says casually, turning away. “The only way to be safe was to go underground.”

42. Marco doesn’t bother going to the house of the guy who photographed them, nor does he try to catch the kid before he uploads the video anywhere. Instead he waits for the image to appear on YouTube, then becomes the first commenter. “Sweet manip!” he says. “Is that Photoshop, or can you do that in free programs like Gimp?”

43. “EarthIsOurs-dot-tumblr-dot-com?” Marco says incredulously. “What does Taylor do there, post pictures of her pet taxxon? Reblog plans for planetary domination?”

«Judging from her archive history, she’s had this blog for many years,» Ax says. «She recently changed the domain name, but some of the content on here is from as early as 2008.»

Jake and Marco get caught up in debating with Cassie about what exactly to send to her, but Tobias just scrolls quietly through Taylor’s old posts. She didn’t lie about being beautiful, he realizes, or about being popular. There’s a long blank period in her tumblr account in mid-2014. And then she posted one selfie—just one—after the fire.

He can’t bring himself to read the names that the trolls call her, or the discussions about how much money they’d have to be paid to have sex with her. But there’s no overlooking the suggestions that she kill herself. The posts are too numerous, too vitriolic.

“Every chick ever to wander onto the internet has gotten that crap,” Rachel says; clearly she’s been reading over his shoulder. “She should’ve developed thick skin, not joined the Sharing.”

Tobias thinks of the Facebook page made at his old school just to discuss the fact that he’s a chubby zit-face, of the posts which eventually overwhelmed his Instagram with death threats. «Yeah, I guess,» he says.

44. It takes a long time for Cassie to get home from Australia, but at least they’re not too worried for most of that time; she texts them her location and a brief description of the insanity that landed her in the Outback as soon as she gets in contact with Yami’s family.

45. “None of this makes any sense,” Peter says. “I’m hallucinating, or you’re delusional, or else—”

Marco sets his phone in Peter’s lap. “Check the timestamp, Dad. I took that six months ago.”

Peter stares at the phone for a long minute, and then slowly looks up at Marco. At a clear loss for words, he tilts his head back toward the screen.

“I know.” Marco laughs, the sound wet with tears. “That blond wig looks terrible on her. But it’s really her, Dad. I swear.”

46. “So they’re going to get the U.S. embroiled in another war,” Marco says. “And this one with a country that can actually fight back.”

«Seems like,» Tobias says. «Only why bother with all the secrecy and political wrangling? Why not just send a couple mean tweets to Donald Trump and Kim Jong-Un? That’d probably do the job just as well.»

“No, it wouldn’t.” Jake runs a hand through his hair, looking around at them all. “The yeerks need a total war. Everything the U.S. and its allies can pull out, against everything China and its allies can muster. Our military has gotten too used to sending drones to fight its wars, to ‘tactical strikes’ against insurgents. If the yeerks want half the species annihilated, they have to do a lot more than poke a couple of egos.”

47. “News flash,” Marco says. “Your average suburbanite ain’t gonna accept a seven-foot-tall alien for a neighbor. You know the number of times my mom’s been asked for proof of citizenship before she was allowed to vote or cash a paycheck or buy a car? How many times she’s been pulled over by cops while driving the speed limit with her seatbelt on? And she’s a regular old human being. Toby’s right—the hork-bajir have a whole other fight coming if we ever win the war.”

48. Rachel feels the blood drain from her face when she opens the Facebook message and sees the name attached. David’s Facebook account has been defunct for almost two years now; there’s no one left who would want or even be able to access it from the outside. Should be no one.

Miss me? the message from David’s account says.

Who are you? she types with shaking fingers. What do you want?

I know what you did. I’m coming for you. I’ve got friends all over the place and they’ll find you. They’ll kill you. Amazing the allies you can get, when you know where the bodies are kept. On the internet, no one knows you’re a—

Rachel hits “block.” She tells herself that the screaming nightmares she has all that night and into the next are the product of having a stressful life, she’s an Animorph for pete’s sake.

She doesn’t stop shuddering every time she gets a message for the next two weeks, but she never hears from whoever (It wasn’t David. It couldn’t have been.) it was ever again.

49. They stagger away from yet another hopeless fight, all of them injured, half of them missing limbs or bleeding to death. Dragging their damaged bodies behind the first dumpster they find, they demorph, remorph, and force their minds to focus long enough for the long flight home. It’s only when Rachel is in owl morph, staring around the dimly lit alleyway, that she sees the security camera pointed directly at their location.

«They must not check it that often,» Marco says without much hope. «Or else they’d be out here already to come looking for us.»

«Doesn’t matter,» Tobias says harshly. «It had a perfectly clear view of all your human faces. And that building is owned by the yeerks.»

They all stare at each other in dull shock as the realization sinks in. They always knew this moment was coming—they could only be so careful for so long—and yet, on some level each of them hoped it never would.

«Take one more night to be with your families,» Jake says at last. «We evacuate everyone in the morning.»

Jake loses his phone, again, somewhere amidst all the chaos. This time around he doesn’t bother to replace it. It’s not like his mom is going to be wondering where he is, not anymore.

50. “So,” Jake says, “this is going to sound crazy, but—”

“Aliens are invading the planet, and you’re the only kid terrorist who can stop them?” James suggests. “We do have wifi up here, you know. You’re Jake Berenson, right? You’re all over the conspiracy theorists’ forums right now.”

“Um.” Jake runs a hand through his hair, starts again. “Yeah, pretty much.”

James nods. “In that case, you’ve got thirty seconds to convince me your story’s not a load of crap before I call security.”

51. Ax secures their wifi in something a billion times better-hidden than Tor. With that reassurance, they all end up starting blogs.

Marco’s is a rambling string of wry comments about everything from the invasion to his parents’ science projects. Sample post: “Insider source (aka my mom): Visser Three has morphed human and eaten AN ENTIRE BAG OF MARSHMALLOWS in one sitting, ON MORE THAN ONE OCCASION. Pass it on!”

Jake’s is the place that people go to find out how they can help, and to get his reassurance that the help means something. Sample post: “As Barack Obama says, ‘We the people recognize that we have responsibilities as well as rights; that our destinies are bound together; that a freedom without a commitment to others is unworthy of our founding ideals, and those who died in their defense.’ This fight will never be over just as long as we keep supporting each other. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you all for the KickStarter donations.”

Rachel’s has beauty tips for the American girl on the run, light and self-deprecating enough that you often don’t notice the undercurrent of desperation. Sample post: “If you want to be able to look at yourself in the mirror, try fixing your hair using reflective surfaces such as pots, ponds, or pieces of Bug fighter wreckage. Alternately, just say ‘fuck it’ and never look at yourself again.”

Cassie’s tells people how to stay safe, and how to keep their environments safe as well. Sample post: “Everyone please remember, it’s important to stock enough food and water for family pets as well as humans when retreating to an apocalypse bunker!”

Tobias’s has a lot of good-natured grumbling about everyday life in the valley. Sample post: “In other news, my girlfriend’s mom is currently arguing with the smartest being on the face of the planet about where to put the new latrine facilities. Sorry Naomi, but my money’s on Toby.”

Ax’s has a lot of food reviews, of course, but again there’s that undercurrent of desperation, almost like he’s trying to convince someone else (or maybe even himself) that humans are worth saving. Sample post: “Marco assures me that there are no less than 23 distinct flavors contained within every sip of Dr. Pepper. Just think of the years of experimentation and innovation it must have required to produce a drink which can inspire 23 different reactions from human taste buds, all at the same time. Truly inspired genius.”

52. They run drills upon drills for what to do in case of a drone strike. Using any morphs they have that can dig or build—mole, taxxon, elephant, beaver—the Animorphs create an extensive network of tunnels and shelters, posting guards at all times to keep their eyes on the sky. The hork-bajir valley doesn’t show up on satellite imagery, which they only know thanks to Peter’s definitely-illegal fact-gathering missions on the darkweb, but they don’t know for sure whether an overhead camera would be subject to the same strange perceptual distortions they all experience when flying there as birds. They nearly lose their precious secrecy when Naomi sends several emails from her work account, claiming she’s being held hostage and asking anyone who will listen to come rescue her. Eva generates a hasty follow-up from the same account asking people to ignore “the prank that I now realize was in poor taste,” but none of them are sure it worked for the next several days.

53. Rachel makes one last post on her nearly-extinct Instagram account. This time the scrap of paper she uses appears to be torn from the back of a food label, but the penciled script is as intricate as ever. It reads “Who wants to live forever? —Freddie Mercury, 1986”

54. After it’s all over, Tobias retreats, he hides, but he keeps a thread of communication open. Cassie shoots him an email with the subject line “Hawk patient with intermittent aggression and lethargy—any idea what could be causing it?” Marco sends him idiotic memes that now feature the Animorphs’ names and faces. Ax asks for constant updates on the new wing of Taco Bell being built downtown, and repays the favor by leaking confidential information about the search for the Blade ship.

And then he gets one of the stranger emails he’s ever received. It’s an offer of a full legacy scholarship to Harvard University (which has just found the means to explain some inconsistencies in the records of one “Alan Fangor,” who graduated in the ‘80s) in exchange for Tobias teaching one class per semester on any subject of his choice. He agrees, with the stipulation that all his classes be online.

The resultant course (Ornithology 442: An Insider’s Perspective) is like nothing the students who participate have ever seen before. Tobias will write out rambling treatises on Why Blue Jays Suck or All the Ways Hawks Are Superior to Eagles with a thought-speak-to-text recorder. He’ll deliver online lectures from a shaky webcam pointed into a nonspecific tree, occasionally wandering off for hours at a time to go hunting. Students who ask him personal questions about Rachel get regurgitated mouse skeletons Fed-Exed to their campus mailboxes. Essays that don’t demonstrate much effort get feedback such as “even I can tell this sucks and I have a seventh-grade education” or “my grandmother could make better sentences than this AND SHE’S AN ANDALITE WHO DOESN’T SPEAK ENGLISH.” Assignments include “find one bird fact in a textbook and explain why it’s a load of crap” or “go film a Boston pigeon until it does something interesting, I dare you.”

Nevertheless, enrollment is so popular that Harvard has a three-year waiting list and charges students an extra $500 just to sign up. When Tobias finds out about the extra fee, he promptly video-calls the Intrepid, gives Ax remote access to his computer, and explains why he needs Ax to convert the course illegally to a MOOC. Harvard University fires him for breach of contract; Yale hires him on that very same afternoon.

part 1 here

#animorphs #modern au #long post #ableism #mental health stigma #food #racism #cyberbullying #fatphobia #ptsd

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