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arch-venus25 · 3 years

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The Head and the Heart, Part 4

Hello everyone,

I submitted this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy.

This chapter is less action heavy, but just as important. Thanks for hanging in there and reading!

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 3812

Part Four: The Aftermath

The weathered professor seemed very confused but stood her ground and insisted, “Miss King, take the summer off.”

“I just need a week, that’s all—and then I’ll get the methodology section to you—Dr. Watts I just need another week, please!” Antha pushed back. Dr. Watts set her glasses on her desk and then waved her over to a deep-tufted-leather sofa.

“Antha,” her voice lowered, “I’ve known you for what—five years? You don’t become a valedictorian because you don’t like to write. You have been moody these past few weeks, you barely passed the final exam, and you’ve pushed back the thesis methodology three times. Last class, you were so distracted I would have rather you skipped. I know you, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“My sister and I had a Friday night out with some friends and something happened.” Antha murmured, staring down at her feet.

“Friday nights aren’t what they used be; did you hear about the fight that broke out at that dive bar off of—oh, what’s it called? You know the place—well, it was all over the news,” she paused gravely, “you weren’t there were you?”

The twin nodded slowly. She felt overwhelmed in front of her advisor. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut before replying. “Tessa’s date got into a fight with an old flame, it was a whole thing. But after…” She couldn’t continue. The advisor took her hand gently.

“Did someone hurt you?”

Antha’s eyes welled and all she could do was stare. As if she said the words out loud, it would become more true than it already was. The doctor’s forehead wrinkled as her brows gathered together. Having lived through the revolutions of the sixties and the proceeding struggle for equality, Dr. Watts knew the dangers women faced. She didn’t need an answer; she just wanted to offer shelter to a young woman. She knew just from looking at her student that whatever happened, it was beyond words.

“You’re taking the summer and fall semester off—or at the very least take the summer off and go to a student counselor; its free, it comes with your tuition, so please use it. If you need anything you know you and your sister can come to me.” She wrote down her personal number and one for the counselors’ office. Antha held the little shred of stationary. She promised she would do just that.

Shortly after, she left her advisor’s office and floated through the campus green and then waited by the bus stop. Her feet told her she was going home, yet her attention was somewhere far away. What can I say to a counselor? Who would understand what we saw at Hollow House? Without realizing, she had retrieved something from her pocket; she stared dumfounded at the pewter-colored iris that gleamed back.

Antha couldn’t get rid of it. But in a moment of frustration, she chucked the marble-like eye into a nearby drain. She returned to her spot and tried to focus on scheduling a counselor. Moving forward, that’s what I need, she figured.

A familiar wheezing crawled up the street. The sluggishness of a muffler that had seen better days filled her ears as she dazed at the phone number-laden scrap paper. “—Antha!” Someone yelled. To her surprise she peered up to see Doug hanging out of his rusty Buick, looking just as timid as ever. He seemed anxious, for what reason she didn’t know. “I’ve been calling your name. You’ve gone deaf ol’ girl—you want a ride?” He asked with forced humor in his voice. She watched him blankly as his expression fell. “You alright?”

Antha thought about it and suddenly felt stupid. All of her gusto about moving forward had evaporated; she lamely shook her head like a weary child. She felt like a little girl in a world that was too big for her. It all just seemed too much.

The July swelter didn’t let up even with the windows down. The two didn’t speak as they made their way to their favorite pizza joint. Thrilled to be out of the unairconditioned Buick’s steel embrace, they collapsed into the far back booth of the pizzeria. All the servers knew it was Doug and Antha’s spot; they habitually kept it clean and empty, knowing they would eventually roll in. They made it to the “golden hour”. The sacred three hours between the lunch and dinner rush. It was their favorite time.

“Whatchas want?” The straggly blue-haired waitress chewed her bubblegum like a goat.

“The usual—uh hold on—when did you eat last?” Doug asked. Antha shrugged and realized she didn’t know. She couldn’t even think that far back. “Can we get a double order of the usual? But make two of them to-go?” The waitress didn’t even answer as she went to get drinks. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nope. I said everything already.” Antha wasn’t mad at him, she was just tired. She was more annoyed that he would ask about the matter and then dispute the realism of what she explained. Doug grumbled when the waitress slopped the pitcher and straws down, vanilla coke-a-cola splashing everywhere.

“—Hey, don’t we get like a punch-card or something? You know, for every hundred pizzas we buy, we get the next one free?” He politely suggested, his way of being confrontational. He was growing exasperated with the women in his life; he didn’t mind taking it from his close friends, Zoey and the twins, but he was having none of this waitress. She paused, chewed her gum, and left again.

“Whoa, cool off killer,” Antha snarked, her spirits lifting with each sip of her fountain soda. She looked him over and thought on their friendship for a moment as he griped about that one particular server.

Doug was a shy, lanky, ginger-bearded young man. He was passionate about things and supportive of the people he loved, but didn’t reserve much attention for the people outside of that parameter. He lived in vintage band t-shirts, had friendly light eyes, and a funny smile. No one could resist his unkempt wolfish hair or his corny sense of humor; he had a way of growing on a person. But he always showed up, his guitar in tow. That’s why Antha didn’t fight him when he asked about that night; she knew he actually cared and was trying his best to understand. He couldn’t help her though. No one could help.

“How about we hang out this weekend, do a barbeque? Nobody grills a burger like you—and Tessa can make her sangria, huh, what do you think?” He tried to turn the conversation to open her up.

“Uhh… I don’t know. I can’t plan that far ahead, I’m real busy.” She declined. The sausage pizzas arrived faster than expected and Doug dropped slices on their plates.

“Busy yeah? Mmm-hmmm,” he bit into his slice, cheese tangling in his five o’clock shadow, “busy not writing your thesis, not eating, and not sleeping? Ant, the last time I saw you eat was a few days ago when I brought pizza over. You gonna talk to me?”

Antha sighed loudly and glared at him. She was worn-through with the people in her life too. I’m too tired for this shit, she thought. She pushed her plate forward and abandoned her half-eaten slice. He saw her mild protest and his cheeks tinged pink. They silently stared each other down, him chewing as loud as he could manage while she obnoxiously slurped her soda in reply.

Before they could hash out their issues a patron burst through the front entrance. “Hey—hic—you seen Ant? Where she at? The back?” Tessa was hiccupping and talking all sorts of loud, like she was in a club on a Saturday night. “Oh hey girls!” She pointed at the staff and sashayed herself to the booth; her bedazzled sandals slapping the linoleum like a jackhammer in the quiet place. The front door jingled again and in rushed Zoey.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized to the front of the house and then chased after Tessa. “I picked her up because she was texting me weird messages—I thought I could calm her down with something to eat.” She explained to the table as she took a seat next to Doug.

“I already ate today.” Tessa insisted, sliding in next to her sister and almost toppling over a pizza.

“Oh yeah, what did you have for lunch?” Doug asked, his patience wearing thin.

“GIN and uh—” she had to think about it but excitedly rebounded, “and uh water ice. Breakfast of champions!” Tessa thought she was quite funny, regardless how everyone else disagreed.

“How about we have a little slice of pi—” Doug pandered but she wasn’t going to hear any of it.

“Now who would put sausage on a pizza? Oh, no. I have enough meat in my life—you know what I’m sayin’ Zo—you feel me?” She howled.

“That’s cute.” Doug’s patience officially went on vacation as of that second. He tore the sausage off some of the pie and then thrust the mangled slice in front of the drunk twin. “There ya’ go, just cheese—And you eat your damn slice too! This has gone on long enough—we’re going to have a barbeque and chill like we always do! It’s Fourth of July this weekend, did you know that?” He directed at the other twin.

“This white boy’s hollering at you, oh lord…” Tessa cackled; her cheese dripped down the side of the table as she reached for some ice chips from an empty cup. Zoey was mortified and motioned to Antha for help, her friend was out of control.

“Yeah—well this boy’s about tired of this foolishness! I don’t know all of what’s happened that night, but neither one of you will talk to me about it! Ant you’ve been practically dead, a walking zombie for three weeks—and Tessa, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, what the hell has gotten into you?”

“Gin.” She giggled.

“Hey Katy? Can we get all this to go, with some two liters?” He yelled across the full length of the restaurant.

Zoey handled the food transport as Doug buckled the twins into his car. He mumbled to himself, “…goddamn vampires my ass…” as he cleared his fogging glasses. Tessa began to mildly complain about the heat when the car stopped at a red light. They all noticed a young man struggling to get into a car at the gas station across the way.

“Is that José?” She whispered. They witnessed his mother trying to steady him, juggling his crutches and searching for a spot on him that wasn’t bandaged. Adorned in a neck brace, shoulder sling, full posterior elbow splint, and full left leg cast. Poor José appeared like he faced-off with a combine. Doug glared at the girls in his rear-view mirror. The light turned green and not another word was said.

He parked the Buick under the tree closest to the house and got the girls inside. Zoey did the same and brought the provisions to the shaded porch. It was too hot to do anything other than sit around by the fan or stay in the AC. Tessa went to her room when they got in; she felt awful about what she had seen at the gas station.

They worked together to set up the tall pedestal fan on the porch, because the porch fan just couldn’t combat Mother Nature alone. They were in the midst of dawdling about when Antha accidentally fell asleep on the porch swing while Doug played the guitar. Zoey elicited his help inside to leave Antha to nap. The two were shocked with the state of things.

Momma’s house was a frightful mess. They never saw it in its condition before: Dishes with dust, articles of clothing haphazardly dropped, laundry either half started or half done, it was difficult to tell. “Momma would roll over, I swear…” Zoey whispered. They agreed to tidy up while the twins rested, lest Momma rise up and haunt them. That woman was meticulous and was not above coming back from the grave to tell everyone what’s-what.

As if life had been frozen in time from the month prior. The twin’s incident hit like a meteor and their friends now saw the wreckage. While they hadn’t admitted it out loud, they had stopped living too; obsessed with what happened that night at Hollow House. Grasping for a truth that they couldn’t reach.

The overloaded dishwasher whined as it cycled and it reminded Doug of seeing José, busted up and struggling. That’s what really happens after a bar-brawl. There’s always a winner and always a loser. He half-heartedly swept the floor and thought to himself: these are the parts they edit from movies. The aftermath. The guns, the glory, the blood all made the cut; but the estranged motions we go through to try and find the thread leading back to our lives doesn’t. These are the quiet moments without answers, like loose ends dangling.

Zoey crept into the kitchen and signaled for him to follow her to the porch. She had just hung the last load of laundry on the line for the afternoon. They were both beat and sweat through from cleaning. They shimmied the big metal ice bucket to the front, fearing they’d disturb Antha. She was so far gone that an earthquake couldn’t wake her. They popped two well-earned beers and exchanged the bits and pieces of what they learned from the twins over the past few weeks.

“…that’s crazy, right? Like there’s no way what Tessa told me could be real, right? Did someone roofie their drinks?” Zoey asked him as she tied his wavy hair into a top-knot.

“I’m just worried that something happened they won’t say, like they’re traumatized—I mean, Zo, I was driving to the bar and I seen them covered in blood on the side of the road. Tessa was screaming in the ER that a vampire attacked her sister—and then Antha all of a sudden, calms her down and explains to the doctors that they were lost in the woods, came upon the bed and breakfast for help, and that a strange man assaulted them there. Said they used a fireplace poker in defense, bloodied him up real good, and they escaped to the main road.” Doug took a swig of beer to recuperate.

He was getting worked up just relaying the story, “But the cops, they investigated that place and found six bodies—slaughtered—in the basement, two of them the owners. The bodies had been sitting there for days before the twins got to ‘em. I’m scared that maniac’s out there. I mean—I’m scared in my own damn apartment when I think about it. What if they were found in that basement? What if we couldn’t find them?” He shook his head.

“What can we do for them? Are there groups for people like this, who think they’ve seen something supernatural?” Zoey mused aloud as she pinned her jet-black pixie cut hair out of her face. The two pulled fresh beers out of the ice bucket and vowed to do some research after the weekend. They agreed their first goal was to get the twins fed and cared for.

They watched the sun set into folds of purple, pink, and orange over the high grass. The heat of the day receded with the light, but the humidity persisted only to remind them that it was an intermission; the threat remained that the summer’s full force would return at tomorrow’s dawn.

The grasshoppers were summoned as Doug strummed his guitar, not truly playing anything particular. Zoey brought out cards to shuffle, waiting on Tessa to play. The evening began to set in peacefully until a rumble cut through the twilight.

A huge pickup truck barreled down the long drive and parked in front of the house. Out jumped the infamous Flake. His blond hair contrasted against the lavender sky, budding starlight glinting off his aviator sunglasses, and a tooth pick in the corner of his mouth completed his redneck-chic visage. He swaggered up to the porch and was met with a startled Antha; she had jumped up like a viper at the sound of his wheels. He donned a large patch like bandage over half an eye and his hands were wrapped too.

“Tessa around?” Franco didn’t even offer small talk which had Antha go straight from just waking up to furious.

“Not for you.”

“Well, I wanted to check in on her—haven’t been able to call on account of that scuffle at the bar. Them boys got my tires and my phone.”

“Looks like they got your eye too.” She scoffed.

“Yep,” he laughed and pulled his sunglasses down to reveal those piercing big blues, “you should see the other guy.”

“We did.” Her disdain seemed to suck the air out of the whole yard. Franco leaned on the porch banister and pulled a smoke from behind his ear. Her eyes burned so hot on him she could have lit his cigarette.

“I can see you’re not much for visitors, so I’ll just leave this. If you could give it to Tessa, I’d be mighty grateful.” He handed her a number, but she walked away not even considering it. Zoey jumped up and took the note. “Night ya’ll.” Franco flicked his butt into the yard and made his way back to his truck.

Long after he left and the noise of his truck faded Antha sat, her arms crossed, on the porch swing. Her friends idled by, every so often glancing in her direction waiting for her to speak her mind. The disgruntled twin couldn’t connect the pieces of her dislike for Franco. It wasn’t as simple as his jeans were too torn, his truck too loud, or his gaze too heavy; it was the fact that she knew nothing about him. No one did. Where did he come from—and where was he going? It didn’t add up to Antha that he was the first hillbilly she ever met without a tan. What working man doesn’t have a farmer’s tan? Finally, after a good twenty-five minutes of contemplation Antha announced, “I need a drink.” With a flutter of Zoey’s sundress, she presented a liter of honey whiskey, lemon wedges, and shot glasses.

A few shots and some pizza in her stomach, Antha started to feel somewhat whole. The four-hour nap revived her a bit, or least lessened the haze she had been wading through. She could finally take in her surroundings: she was lucky to have her friends. When the mosquitos really started to bite they brought their party inside and relished the cool—and now clean—house. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two, I’m sorry I can’t,” she paused, “I just can’t right now.” Before Antha could work out her sentiment the queen bee descended from her room.

“That’s it! I have decided!” Tessa announced, thumping down the stairs like a sentinel charge. “I’m going to visit José tomorrow—even though it’s not my fault he got his ass beat, I still think it’s only fair to show love.” She waited, her hands on her hips, for their unyielding approval or preferably a round of applause.

“Look at you growing a conscious,” was the general consensus of the other three. Tessa saucily tossed her braids as she dusted her shoulders. They all scooted into the kitchen table and fed her dinner. Just like a heart, she had a way of pulsing life into a room. Before they knew it, they were swapping stories like always.

Tessa was laughing and teasing Doug when she took a shot. She threw her empty glass down on the table as was customary, but when the glass met the table it then clinked as if something had been dropped into it. They all sat forward to see a silvery-gray eye in the bottom.

“Did you just spit that in there?” Doug’s eyes were wide.

The twins beheld each other knowingly.

In the beginning, they initially freaked out over the eyes returning. Now it became a sickening fascination of what they could do to them. The eyes always returned. They burned them, they drowned them, and they threw them away; every time the eyes returned to the twins.

“I tried to tell you, but you’re not listening,” Antha began, “these eyes are following us. Ever since we killed that thing at Hollow House, we’ve had them.” Doug and Zoey’s faces were pained in disbelief.

“Here.” Tessa got up roughly and held the eye over the sink. She turned on the garbage disposal and dropped it in; it made a grotesque metal sound and then after a few rotations, crunched like glass. Antha showed the eye that was always in her back pocket and explained she threw it away in a drain across town earlier that day. She threw hers in too, directly into the disposal.

“Well, how long does it take for them to come back?” Zoey asked.

“They’re not coming back—this is a trick!” Doug looked like an angry leprechaun with his reddened face and stubble. The twins’ faces didn’t even shift with the accusation.

“Sometimes its seconds, sometimes hours, or a day. It doesn’t matter, they’ll be back.” Antha confirmed and the twins took their seats at the table. The room became solemn as Tessa popped another round of beers and poured a flight of shots for them all, knowing the liquid courage was needed. Doug jumped up from his seat and began checking under cushions, searching cupboards, and drawers. The girls sat back and waited as he processed.

He huffed, “…you got back-ups, or hiding ‘em somewhere—I don’t know why you’re playing with me right now…it’s not funny…” But then a loud plop sounded on the kitchen table, like a golf ball dropped from the ceiling. He turned to watch a second oversized marble drop seemingly out of thin air. He returned to the table and gawked at the two eyes sitting in front of the twins. “You got to tell us what happened at Hollow House.” Doug’s voice was hushed as he shakily accepted the whiskey shot from Tessa. In unison they saluted and threw back the shots with beer chasers.

While the four friends went over the sordid events, in gruesome detail, a mysterious figure watched from the unlit porch window. The uninvited guest crept off through the yard, down the dirt-path driveway, and made a phone call:

“They got them eyes,” it reported, “I reckon there’ll be a war.”

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn @plastic-heart @confusednerd09

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #twinning vs vamps #arch-venus25 writes

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whumphoarder · 4 years

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Beanimia

Summary: While Peter is visiting Tony and Morgan at the lake house for a long weekend, the six-year-old manages to accidentally break his nose. Unfortunately, Spider-Man's super-healing decides to go on holiday the same weekend that he does.

Word count: 3,877

Genre: Fluffy illness/injury, whump, hurt/comfort, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta-reading and to @awesomesockes for plot, summary, and title ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

“So”—Tony snaps the single use ice pack to activate the chemicals and gives it a few shakes as he moves back over to the kitchen table—“which one of you is going to explain what happened here?”

Morgan shakes her head gravely side to side. “Peter didn’t catch the beans...”

“Well, to be fair,” Peter points out, his voice significantly more nasally than usual due to the wad of paper towels he’s pressing to his heavily bleeding nose, “you didn’t really warn me you were about to chuck a can of beans at my head.”

“But I did!” the six-year-old defends. “I said, ‘I’ll throw down the supplies.’”

“Supplies for what?” Tony questions. He passes Peter the ice pack, earning a grunt of thanks.

“For the mission,” Morgan explains as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We were playing superheroes and we needed to pack the supplies to take with us ‘cus we had to go fight the bad guys in space.”

“She’d been stockpiling stuff for the last couple days in the treehouse,” Peter goes on, “so she was just tossing everything down for me to put in the bag. Which, y’know, was fine for the stuffed animals and the walkie-talkies and the plastic lightsabers”—he gingerly touches the ice to his nose—“just not for a sixteen-ounce can of refried pintos.”

(Tony winces in sympathy.)

Morgan lets out an exasperated exhale. “Well, we had to bring something to eat—it’s a long way to Pluto.”

Huffing out a laugh, Tony shakes his head slowly. “I guess it’s hardly Peter’s first experience getting injured before a mission officially even begins...” he muses. He grins at the teenager. “Remember when you tripped off the quinjet ramp and sprained your ankle two minutes after we landed?”

Peter rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “That was one time, Mr. Stark.”

“Memorable though,” Tony quips. He gestures to the kid’s messy face and sighs. “Alright, let’s see the damage.”

Reluctantly, Peter pulls the paper towels away and fresh blood starts to trickle down. There’s a cut at the bridge of his nose and it’s rapidly swelling, a dark bruise already starting to form under his eye.

Tony prods carefully at the break, making Peter wince. “Well, it’s definitely broken,” he reports after a moment, “but it seems pretty well-aligned at least. Nothing to reset.”

Peter lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Probably because it was already a little crooked from the last time I broke it. Guess she knocked it back.”

“So… I made it better?” Morgan asks hopefully.

Tony turns in his daughter’s direction. “Oh no, don’t you start thinking you’re off the hook here, Little Miss Budding Plastic Surgeon,” he says, holding up a stern finger. “You still need to be more careful where you’re chucking your beans.”

Peter snorts, then instantly seems to regret that as he groans and adjusts the ice pack on his face.

Morgan’s expression sobers and she drops her gaze down to her feet. “I just thought he would catch it. He always catches stuff when I throw it to him…”

Her comment gives Tony pause. Now that he thinks about it, it’s not the first time since Peter arrived at the lake house for their long weekend that the kid has seemed rather sluggish and off his game. He’d dozed through most of the drive over on Friday afternoon and then slept in until almost noon the next day. Even now, he can see the dark circles under Peter’s eyes and the pallor to his cheeks that can’t be completely explained by his current blood loss.

“It’s okay, Mo,” Peter reassures her with a small smile. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’ll be all better by morning, okay?”

Morgan perks up at that, so Tony pushes aside the twinge of worry in his gut. After all, Peter’s been taking seventeen credit hours at MIT this semester, not to mention his Boston vigilante activities and the additional part-time lab assistant gig he’s picked up; that’s enough to make anyone run a little ragged.

“Why don’t you two just watch a movie or something?” Tony suggests. “Give Peter’s nose a little time to sort itself out.”

Morgan and Peter agree, so Tony rustles up some of Peter’s super-strength painkillers and sets the kids up in the living room with some weird movie that Morgan inexplicably loves about a talking parrot whose biggest goal in life is to see the sun rise over the Grand Canyon. Before they even hit the fifteen minute mark, from out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees the ice pack slide down Peter’s face as the boy drifts off.

The combination of pain pills and the usual post-injury recovery time knocks Peter out and he sleeps straight through the rest of the movie. He’s still a little groggy and disoriented when Tony wakes him for dinner, but years of mentoring a reckless teenage superhero have taught the man that this is all par for the course.

Given that the pork chops Pepper left for them to reheat (before heading to her sister’s house for the weekend) require a bit more chewing than Peter’s face is up for at the moment, Tony whips the kid up a smoothie to drink instead.

Peter peers warily into the glass Tony hands him, swirling the green contents around. “What’s in here?”

Tony shrugs. “Whatever I found in the fridge. Blueberries, yogurt, scoop of protein powder, a banana, some spinach…”

“Ew, why would you drink spinach?” Morgan interrupts, her nose wrinkling up in disgust. “That’s gross.”

“Says the girl who put mayonnaise on her graham crackers last week,” Tony points out.

“It was good!” she defends.

Peter takes a cautious sip of the drink. He looks contemplative for second, then must have decided that he approves of the flavor because he just shrugs and proceeds to down about half the glass in a few gulps.

Morgan makes a dramatic gagging noise. Tony rolls his eyes and flicks her arm playfully.

“It’s actually really good,” Peter admits, lowering the cup back down. “Been awhile since I’ve had real vegetables.”

“Ugh, lucky,” Morgan groans as Tony adds a few pieces of asparagus to the little girl’s plate. “They’re the worst. Except for artichokes—those are good.”

“You like artichokes?” Peter questions.

“Uh huh.” She grins. “And turnips!”

“Well, Gerald likes turnips,” Tony clarifies, “and Morgan likes feeding them to him.”

This comment inspires Morgan to launch into a long-winded explanation of all the things she’s ever seen Gerald eat—from grass, to broccoli stalks, to a weird-looking bug—and which of those were his favorites. Peter nods along to her rambling, but seems far less engaged than usual and doesn’t even react when she mentions Gerald’s favorite type of cookie is double stuffed Oreo.

(Tony, on the other hand, interrupts at that point with a stern lecture for the six-year-old on what she can and cannot feed the alpaca moving forward.)

Once dinner is over, they all migrate back to the living room. Morgan wants to play Uno, and Peter obliges for a while, but his overall lack of focus persists.

“Peeeterrrr,” Morgan whines for the third time, poking his arm to snap him out of his daze. “It’s your turn again. You gotta draw two.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter takes two cards from the deck and adds them to his hand before reaching up to rub tiredly at his temples.

Tony’s brow furrows. “Headache?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Peter admits. “It’s not bad, just like… there.”

“Hm.” Tony nods. Turning to Morgan he says, “What do you say we finish this game up tomorrow?” Morgan’s face screws up and she looks like she’s about to protest before he adds, “Pretty sure there are some fudge-pops left in the freezer. I won’t tell Mommy if you don’t.”

Morgan drops her cards with an excited whoop and jumps up to run to the kitchen.

Tony gets to his feet to follow her. He glances back at Peter, who has sunk into the cushions with a relieved sigh. “Fudge-pop?” he offers.

Peter makes a non-committal noise in his throat. “I dunno. Think I might just head to bed.”

Tony glances at his watch. It’s just shy of eight o’clock—even Morgan doesn’t usually go to bed for another half hour. He knows Peter’s healing always takes a lot out of him, but he’s seen the kid looking less drowsy and out of it after getting slammed into the airport tarmac in Germany and cracking three ribs than he does at the moment. “Think you might be coming down with something?” he asks.

Peter shrugs once more, prompting Tony to press his hand to the kid’s forehead. He definitely isn’t detecting a fever—if anything, Peter’s skin is a little cold.

“What’s not feeling good?” Tony clarifies. “Head? Stomach? Throat?”

Peter hesitates a second. “Just… just my head I guess.” He sighs. “I think I’m just tired. Haven’t really been sleeping that great lately,” he confesses.

Tony’s forehead creases in concern. “Kid, you know May and I talked to you about overloading yourself your first year at school.”

“No, I go to bed,” Peter clarifies, “I just don’t always, like, sleep.”

“Why?” Tony’s frown deepens. “Are you having nightmares, or…?”

“No…” Peter exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. I just can’t always, like, settle down? I don’t know—it’s really not that bad,” he quickly backtracks. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

(Like an idiot, Tony believes him.)

“Alright, well, sleep well kid,” he says as Peter shuffles off to the guest room.

“Okay, so... this is a little weird,” Peter says as he enters the kitchen the next morning.

Tony glances up and blinks at the sight of Peter’s very swollen and now darkly bruised nose and cheekbone. He sets down the bowl of waffle batter he’s been whisking and moves over to get a closer look.

“What the hell, kid?” Tony mutters under his breath, running his fingertips carefully over the still-clearly-broken bone. “You once healed from a compound fracture overnight.” He pauses a beat. “Of your femur.”

“Eh...” Peter shrugs tiredly. “Super-healing isn’t really a science, is it?”

“Well it’s certainly not an art,” Tony retorts. He gestures to the kid’s nose. “Unless this is your Black-and-Blue Period, Picasso.”

Peter groans, sinking down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “That was almost as painful as my face,” he complains.

It’s clear the kid meant it as a joke, but that admission does nothing to alleviate Tony’s concern. He finds Peter a fresh ice pack and doses him out another painkiller before resuming making breakfast.

Somehow even a second night of sleep doesn’t seem to have restored much of the kid’s energy. Peter sits hunched forward with one elbow on the table to hold the ice to his face and has his phone resting in his lap. He scrolls idly through it, looking like he might nod off any second.

After a few minutes, the backdoor to the kitchen swings open and Morgan re-enters with pieces of hay still stuck to her boots.

“I gave Gerald two turnips,” she announces. “And he hummed at me and then he tried to steal my hat but I got it back ‘cept for the fuzzy thing.” She points at the red knit hat on her head, which is missing a pom-pom.

Tony groans as he ladles more waffle batter onto the iron. “He didn’t swallow it, did he? Because if that vet has to come out here one more time, I swear—”

“Peter!” Morgan blurts, suddenly noticing the boy at the table. He startles and looks up from his lap as the six-year-old runs over to him. “Your face looks so bad!”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, Morgan, we don’t—”

“So, so, so, so bad,” she emphasizes, as tears well up in her eyes. She throws her arms around his waist. “I’m really r-really sorry!” she cries. “I didn’t m-mean to hit you with the beans!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Mo,” Peter assures, wrapping her in his arms. “It’s gonna heal really soon, okay? I’m a spider, remember? I always heal fast.”

“But sp-spiders don...don’t heal fast!” Morgan sobs into his chest. “You can squish ‘em re-really easy and they d-die if it gets too c-cold or if they get sprayed with bug killing stuff, an-and…”

Peter glances up and shoots his mentor a look of utter helplessness.

In return, Tony shrugs his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion. “Don’t look at me, kid. I’ve been wondering the same thing since we met.”

Still holding the crying child, Peter rolls his eyes at him.

“Kidding, kidding...” Tony says under his breath. He abandons the waffle iron and heads over to gather the sobbing six-year-old up into his arms. “Morgan, sweetheart, listen to me,” he says as he rubs her back gently. “Peter isn’t really a spider, okay? He’s actually more of a mutant.”

(Morgan only cries harder at that.)

Peter huffs out a short laugh and leans back against the chair. “Doing great, Mr. Stark.”

“...And because he’s a mutant,” Tony plows right along, “his DNA is different from ours and that’s why he usually heals freaky fast,” he explains over her tears as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Except it’s just being a little slow today, so we’re gonna just let him rest and eat some good food and that should help fix him up, okay?”

She hiccups a few times. “So he ju...just needs some w-waffles?” she manages to get out.

That jogs Tony’s memory. He spins around to see that the iron is still very much on and the waffle is starting to burn, smoke wafting up around the edges. “Ah shit,” he mutters.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Peter says, pushing himself quickly up from his seat. But the moment he gets to his feet, he staggers sideways and grips the table, his face draining of color.

“Pete?” Tony goes to set the still-sniffling six-year-old back down, but before he’s able to get her feet on the floor, Peter’s knees give out.

Tony curses and shoots a hand out just a second too late as Peter crumples first to his knees and then to the ground, landing directly on his already-injured face.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “Daddy!” she shrieks.

Tony plops her down abruptly. “Go unplug the waffle maker, okay?” he instructs her as he drops to his knees next to Peter. He figures the last thing they need to add to the chaos is a smoke alarm.

Eyes still locked on the scene before her, Morgan nods and runs over to the counter to unplug the device. Meanwhile, Tony rolls Peter over onto his back and instantly grimaces at the sight. Besides the deathly pallor, the kid’s broken nose is definitely crooked now and fresh blood is streaming down.

“Is he… dead?” Morgan asks, horrified.

“No, no, of course not...” Tony presses two fingers to the pulse point in the boy’s neck, relieved to feel a strong, albeit fast, beat. “He just fainted—he’ll be fine,” he says, shaking the unconscious boy’s shoulder.

“He looks dead,” Morgan whispers, still staring.

“Yeah, but he’s not,” Tony says firmly. Not wanting the blood to run down Peter’s throat, he continues to roll the kid over until he’s on his side in a sort of modified recovery position. “Pete, c’mon, this isn’t a good look,” he mutters, tapping Peter’s cheek. “We’re all getting enough trauma therapy as it is…”

Finally, the kid’s eyelids start fluttering open. “There you go, that’s it,” Tony praises when Peter blinks up at him. “You back with us yet?”

Peter groans and lets his eyes close again. “Do I ‘ave to be?”

“Yes,” Tony says curtly. He starts shaking Peter’s shoulder again, though gentler now. “I need to know how I’m taking you to Bruce—car or ambulance?”

“Ugh… How ‘bout neither?” Peter mumbles. He lifts a hand up tiredly to wipe a bit of blood off his upper lip. “‘M alright. Just got a lil’ dizzy…”

“Nope.” Worry is quickly taking over Tony, though it comes out in the form of briskness. “You’ve got sixty seconds to get off the floor or I’m choosing for you,” he declares, already pulling out his phone.

Morgan’s voice comes out small and quavering. “Peter...?”

Ultimately, that sound is what it takes to make Peter move. With Tony’s support, he pushes himself up and sits there for a moment, blinking wearily as blood trickles down from his nose. Tony sends Morgan to fetch a box of tissues and a clean shirt for Peter, then loads them both into the car for a little field trip.

“Anemia?” Peter repeats, incredulous.

The kid is sitting on an exam table at the SHIELD Medical base, his recently-reset nose now splinted. Meanwhile, Morgan sits in the chair beside Tony, entertaining herself with a handful of wooden tongue depressors and a roll of medical tape.

Bruce adjusts his glasses as he scans the results from Peter’s blood panel on his tablet. “Yeah, that’s what the tests are showing. Basically, it means that your body isn’t getting enough iron to produce hemoglobin, so it can’t carry oxygen effectively. This results in fatigue, lightheadedness, insomnia, headaches, shortness of breath, and—apparently in your case—a reduced healing factor.”

“But how did I get anemia?” Peter balks. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Well, there are a few possible causes,” Bruce explains, “but based on several nutrient deficiencies I’m seeing in your bloodwork, my best guess is from your diet.”

“Ah.” A look of understanding flickers across Peter’s face for a second. “Yeah, okay, that checks out...” he mumbles.

“Wait, how exactly does that ‘check out’?” Tony asks.

Peter shrugs. “Well, I just… haven’t been eating the best food lately.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Doesn’t MIT’s cafeteria serve a pretty decent spread?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Peter allows. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just haven’t been really… uh, going there?”

Tony blinks at him. “Why the hell not?”

“That’s Mommy’s word,” Morgan pipes up without looking up from the two wooden sticks she’s connecting together with tape.

“I just don’t have a lot of time between my classes and job and stuff, and the cafeteria is all the way across campus,” Peter explains. “So I mostly just eat my own food.”

“Which would be…?” Bruce asks.

Peter hesitates. “Ramen,” he says after a moment. “The chicken flavor one.”

“Hm, okay…” Bruce nods, jotting this down on his tablet. “Not really the most nutritious option, but definitely a college staple. What else?”

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Peter starts picking at a piece of fuzz on his sweatshirt. “Uh… sometimes I get the beef one?”

Tony blinks at him. “Beef ramen?”

“I tried the lime chili shrimp one once. Not a fan.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Tony blinks again. “Peter, I’m paying for you to have three square meals a day at that college—not three styrofoam cups of dehydrated noodles.”

“I also eat granola bars,” Peter says. “And bagels.” He starts ticking foods off on his fingers. “Microwave burritos, yogurt, uh.... those little frozen chicken taquito thingies? But like, only if my roommate isn’t using the freezer for his weird cult ritual stuff. That’s why I usually stick to the soup.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves out a sigh. “Jesus take the wheel…”

“Oh! I had an apple last week!” Peter throws in.

Bruce runs a hand through his own hair, exhaling a carefully measured breath. “Okay, Peter, you know that you have an enhanced metabolism, right? That means you need to eat significantly more food than the average person.”

“Right, and I do!” Peter nods. “I always make sure I get enough calories.”

“And that’s good,” Bruce says, “but you also need to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients. Calories are just a part of that. With your unusual physiology, it’s especially important that you’re getting all the required vitamins and minerals to support the rapid regeneration of your cells, and a diet of cup noodles and bagels—”

“And frozen burritos,” Peter interrupts.

“—is simply not nutritionally dense enough for you,” Bruce finishes. “Not by a long shot.”

There’s a beat.

“Oh.”

“What does ‘nu-tri-tion-al-ly dense’ mean?” Morgan asks. Her tongue depressor creation has folded over itself and vaguely resembles a collapsed bridge now.

“It means Peter needs to eat more vegetables,” Tony butts in. “Just like you and Gerald.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Gross.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start you on some iron supplements,” Bruce addresses Peter. “But it might take a couple weeks to get your levels back up enough to reverse the anemia. I’m also going to give you a list of foods high in iron—things like dark leafy greens, broccoli, dried fruit, nuts, red meat, kidney beans—”

“NO BEANS,” the other three all declare in unison.

After hauling the kids back to the lake house, Tony sets Peter and Morgan up on the couch with another movie (Pirates of the Caribbean this time) and heads to the kitchen to fix them all some lunch. Potatoes and turnips are both high in iron, so he cooks and mashes up a big potful with some milk, butter, and salt, figuring that would be easy to chew without hurting the kid’s face too much. He scoops some into a bowl for Peter and then whips up another green smoothie for him to drink, as well as sandwiches for himself and Morgan. Once everything is ready, he piles it all onto a tray and heads back.

As he approaches the living room, Tony can already hear Morgan’s voice floating towards him in the falsetto stage-whisper she always uses when she’s voicing make-believe characters.

“Help me! Help me!” she cries. “Oh no, I’m falling!”

Tony stops in the room’s threshold to watch. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither kid seems to be watching. Instead, Peter is lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed, giggling quietly while Morgan kneels on the floor in front of the cushions, dancing a single M&M around the edges of the boy’s open mouth.

Suddenly, she drops the candy into his mouth with a dramatic gasp. “Noooo… the king has fallen into the pit! The anemia monster got him!” she cries.

“The anemia monster?” Tony asks in amusement.

Peter’s eyes snap open. “Uh, we were just playing a game.”

Morgan turns back to look at her dad, grinning. “Chocolate is on the list Uncle Bruce gave him!” she says, waving the piece of paper in Tony’s direction.

“Pretty sure that says dark chocolate,” Tony says, eyes narrowing at them as he crosses the room. “Not leftover M&Ms from the Christmas stash.”

Morgan’s face falls. “Aw…”

Tony sets the tray of food down on the coffee table. “Don't worry, kids,” he says, passing Peter the kale and fruit-rich protein smoothie. “Iron Man to the rescue.”

Link to all my fics

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Morgan Stark, M.D.

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#sick peter parker #hurt peter parker #irondad fic #peter parker whump #hurt/comfort #blood #injury #broken nose #nutrient deficiency #anemia #fluff #whump #humor #peter parker is a mess #tony stark has a heart #morgan stark is adorable #my fic #mcu writing

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atleasttheresthis · 4 years

Text

Project Partners (Song x Katara)

Happy day two of ATLA wlw week! This one is for the academia AU.

content warning: alcohol

@atla-wlw-week

"So, in conclusion, you and your partner will research one new surgical or oncological technique from the last five years on any of the cancer types I've included here. You'll have three weeks to complete the project." Professor Pakku pauses, lifts his eyes from his notes and turns them on the horde of bleary eyed, eight am lecture suckers in front of him. "Any questions?"

Song, who is just as tired and out of it as the rest of her classmates at 8:30 on a Monday, studies the powerpoint slide in front of her, struggling to write down all the project requirements before Professor Pakku moves on from the assignment and starts the day's lecture.

"Before you ask, Taedo," the Professor is saying from the front of the room, "no, I will not accept any late papers. If you would have read the syllabus I distributed at the beginning of the semester instead of no-doubt chucking into the garbage as I'm sure you did, you would know my policy on late assignments."

Song grins to herself as Taedo slumps down in his seat. Pakku is something of a hardass, but since Song mostly keeps to herself and stays out of his way, she's never had a problem with him. Besides, his course on cancer treatment was super popular among the pre-med and nursing students. It would take a lot more than verbal abuse to get Song to give up her seat in the course. She needed the elective to finish her third year of the nursing program at Ba Singh Se University, and since she wanted to work at a cancer ward after graduating, this course was practically a requirement.

From the front row, Katara pipes up. "You could just put the syllabus online."

Pakku sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose while Song rolls her eyes. For the entire semester, Katara seems to have made it her mission to make the Professor's life difficult, and it drives Song crazy.

"I suppose I could, but my ancient and old-fashioned ways make it quite difficult for me to use the computer, or so you told me in class last week." Even from her spot in the middle of the room, Song can hear Katara harumph.

"Any other questions?" Professor Pakku asks, then sighs when Katara shoves her hand into the air. "Yes, Katara?"

"I've noticed you didn't include the breast as part of the infected areas we could study," she begins, but the professor interrupts her.

"Yes, thank you for proving, yet again, that you know how to read," Pakku says easily. Song winces. Lately she’s found herself unable to focus in this class, devoting her energy instead to either silently cheering on Professor Pakku in his misguided quest to get Katara to be quiet for more than five minutes so he can teach, or silently (always silently) commending Katara as she points out Pakku’s rampant sexism. Their relationship confuses the shit out of her, and while right now she finds herself inclined to defend the student (because wow, that was a really asshole thing to say, Professor), she thinks both of them go way too far.

Either way, it’s threatening to wreak havoc on her GPA.

Unaffected by Pakku’s rudeness, Katara presses the point. “That’s sexist,” she says bluntly, and Song finds herself nodding. “We should be able to study whatever cancers we want to. Just because you want to ignore all the stuff that only affects women doesn’t mean we want to.” She stops for a moment, considers. “Also, will we be able to pick our own partners?"

Pakku seems to have lost his temper. "You know what, just for that, everyone else gets to pick their partners, except for you. You will be paired with," he stops, consults the class list on his podium. "Song Ma."

Um, what? Song lets out a breath, unable to believe her shit luck. Everyone in the course turns around to stare at each other, wondering who the unlucky girl is until they catch Song's face. She knows she's got a completely disbelieving, what the fuck look on, so much so that Pakku actually smiles when his eyes catch hers. He gives her a small shrug, evil grin totally upstaging his non-apology. "Good luck," he adds helpfully.

Katara sniffs, turns back around in her chair. Song resigns herself to the inevitable. It's obvious there's no getting out of this one.

***

Song finds Katara waiting in the hallway after class. Slugging her backpack over one shoulder, Song steps forward and introduces herself. "Hi. I'm Song." She briefly considers holding out a hand, then stops herself, raising it to stifle a yawn instead.

"I know," Katara says snobbishly. Jesus, this is going to be like pulling teeth, isn't it? Biting back a rude reply in kind, Song asks "do you have any ideas for what you want to research?"

"I want to research the use of dye to identify positive lymph nodes in breast cancer patients," Katara says immediately, and Song sighs. "Look, I know you're apparently cool with being on Pakku's bad side, but I don't need a shitty grade on this report because you can't pick your battles and have to stick it to the man whenever you have the chance." Katara looks a bit surprised by her outburst. Whatever. Song's grade is on the line, she's not going to risk it for some girl with a death wish, even if she is really pretty, skin somehow looking shiny and gorgeous even under the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

"I'll talk to Pakku," Katara offers begrudgingly. "See if he'll officially allow us to go beyond the project parameters."

"Fine, go ahead," Song relinquishes. Katara hadn't asked if she had any ideas, but whatever. "Your funeral."

Katara cracks a smile. "Is that okay, or did you want to research something else?"

Song is so surprised by Katara's thoughtfulness, by her apparent ability to reach into Song's head and pluck out her inner monologue, that she merely shakes her head. That's alright, though. Lymph nodes are fascinating enough.

"Cool," Katara says. "I'll swing by his office hours today and let you know how it goes." Song nods, watches Katara walk away, and realizes she never even gave the other girl her phone number.

Oh well. They have three weeks to work it out, and she'll see Katara in class on Wednesday.

Song shrugs to herself, walks out of the biology department toward the squashy chairs on the ground floor of the science building to get some reading done before her next class.

Later that day, when she's studying with her housemate Bohei after lunch, an email pops up on her phone.

Hey Song,

I talked to Pakku, he'll let us do the breast cancer project without deducting anything from our grade.

Let's find a time to talk soon so we can figure out how we should divide the work. I can handle the research part of it if you want to handle the conclusion and summary.

-Katara

Song is furious. Why is Katara relegating her to the easy stuff? Doesn't she think Song can do good work?

"What's wrong?" Bohei, one of her housemates, asks from across the table. Song reads her the email. "Isn't that the stuck up girl that's always getting into fights with the professor? Sucks that you're paired with her."

"The professor put us together," Song explains. "Ugh. Why won't she let me do the work on this project? I'm smart, I can handle a research paper!"

"I actually think you're in a golden situation," Bohei says, reaching over to snag a few of Song's chips from an open bag on the table. "Just let her do all the work, if she cares about it so much you'll probably get a good grade, free A for the project."

Song shakes her head. "No, I want to help, I can do it. Why doesn't she think I can help?"

"Why do you care?" Bohei counters, raising an eyebrow. A great question, but Song is not in the mood for self-reflection.

"I, I don't," Song splutters. "I don't care, I just, I just don't think it's fair that she's doing all the work alone! And besides, how do I know she'll do a good job?"

"Okay," Bohei says, giving Song a look that says she knows what a flimsy excuse that is. Why does Song care what Katara thinks of her? She's just some know-it-all who can't leave well enough alone. Song emails her back, tells her she's free for dinner, and gets a reply a few minutes later that Katara will meet her at the dining hall. Song tries to push the other girl out of her mind, turning back to her chemistry notes.

It's no use. By the time dinner rolls around, Song is simmering with indignation over Katara's assumption that she couldn't help with the project. She packs up her stuff, trying to tune out Bohei's pointed questions (the other girl had gotten over her instinct to leave Song alone about it and has instead spent the rest of the afternoon asking if Song likes Katara, like, like-likes Katara???) and begrudgingly makes her way over to the dining hall. After swiping her school ID to get in, she sees Katara at a table with a plate of food. Sighing, resigning herself to a confrontation, Song heads over there, dropping her bag onto an empty seat.

"Hey," she says, monotone, and Katara looks up. "Hi," she says back, a bit startled, but Song's not exactly giving her the best attitude.

"How was your day," Song asks rhetorically, and Katara raises an eyebrow but whatever, Song is just being polite.

"It was okay," Katara answers, tossing some of her long brown hair over her shoulder. Song likes it this way, better than when she puts it in the long braid that snakes down her back. "How was yours?"

An awkward moment, where Song has lost herself staring at Katara's hair. She realizes the other girl has asked her a question, and gives herself a shake. "It was fine too," she answers quickly.

"Do you want to get a plate before we start working?" Katara asks.

Song agrees, gets up to scour the dining options for something to eat. She ends up with a bowl of pasta, some carrots, and a glass of water. Reaching Katara again and sitting back down, Song pulls her laptop and notebook out of her bag before spearing a piece of pasta and angrily throwing it into her mouth.

Katara, oblivious this time to her anger, has gotten out a laptop of her own. "So, I already made a google doc, I'm sharing it with you now," she says, and Song moves to check her email, loading the document on her screen. "Like I said, I can handle the research part and you can do the conclusion, is that okay?" Katara asks, not even looking up from her computer.

Song takes a deep breath. "No, it's not really okay," she answers in a rush. That makes Katara look up. "I can help with the research part too, I think I can handle it," she says drily. "I just don't think it's fair for you to do so much of the work," she tacks hurriedly, wanting Katara to think she's doing this for more noble reasons than wanting the other girl to think she's smart.

"Oh, it's okay, I don't mind doing the work," Katara brushes Song off, turning back to the laptop.

Song groans internally. "Katara. I can help. I want to do some of the work on this project, it's my grade too," she reminds her.

Katara looks at her skeptically. "Alright," she concedes finally. "Here, want to look over some of the sources I've already gathered?"

Song takes another bite, nodding. They spend the rest of the evening compiling journal articles and studies on the use of dye to identify positive and negative lymph nodes in the armpit. It's not half as bad as Song thought it might be, both girls are focused on the work, and after an hour and a half they have enough to start working on the paper. Song drafts a preliminary outline, which Katara approves of after making only one or two small changes, and then they call it a night, agreeing to meet up again later that week. Song packs up her bag feeling good, they got work done. And she's definitely proved to Katara that she's smart enough to hold her own. Not that she cares about any of that.

***

As the week goes on, Song finds herself enjoying her study sessions with Katara more than she'd like to admit. For all her sharp edges in class, she's surprisingly laid back when she talks with Song. She's got a sharp sense of humor, and the way she vivisects Pakku and some of the other asshole idiots in their class causes Song to nearly pitch a fit. About the work itself, she's pretty anal, but Song's own standards are exacting themselves, so it's not like she can complain.

They meet again on Wednesday, but it's on Friday that Katara tells her that she's pre-med and plans to become a breast cancer surgeon. Her mother died of breast cancer, and she wants to work so other people don't suffer like she did. It only seems natural to tell her about her father's fatal car accident, in turn.

"Is that why you want to become a nurse?" Katara asks quietly. She doesn't say she's sorry, and neither does Song. What good would that do?

Song blows out a breath. "Maybe?" she offers. "I don't know. I just know that I'm good at this, I'm good at helping people when they're hurt, and if I can do it, shouldn't I?"

Katara nods. "I understand," she says, and Song gets the feeling that she really does.

***

By Friday night it becomes obvious to both Song and, unfortunately, Song's housemates, that their girl is quickly becoming enraptured with Katara. "What do I do?" Song moans into a chocolate chip cookie that D'wei made to cheer her up.

"I thought she was annoying," he asks, topping up his glass of cheap, Barefoot wine, before handing the bottle to Song.

"No, she's still annoying," Bohei chimes in. The three are sitting in their kitchen, Bohei painting her nails at the table and Song in the chair next to her while D'wei perches himself on the countertop.

"But she's annoying in a hot way," Song whines. She gives herself a generous glass of wine, her third of the evening, then slumps over the table, cheek pressed against the wood.

"Haven't you only met with her like, twice?" D'wei asks. Song opens her mouth to respond, but Bohei beats her to it.

"D'wei, come on. Song's a, you know," and she holds her wrist at shoulder height and bends it so her arm flops over.

Song chuckles, face mashed into the table.

"A what?" D'wei asks, and Bohei rolls her eyes.

"A lesbian," Song mumbles. "Exactly," Bohei says, nudging Song's head with her elbow. "Falling in love inside thirty seconds, that's classic lesbian behavior, you should know that."

"That's our M.O.," Song agrees. "Song's done that four times in the past year and half," Bohei continues.

"And once with a boy, but we don't talk about that," Song says. "But Katara's different, I can tell."

"She's stupid beautiful, I'll give you that," Bohei adds, capping her nail polish and blowing on her nails to dry.

"I know," Song grumbles, shoving the rest of the cookie in her mouth. "How do I tell her I like her?"

Bohei shrugs. "You could play 'girl in red' while you guys study, that will probably clue her in," D'wei suggests.

Song wrinkles her nose. "Too obvious," she answers. "Japanese Breakfast, then?" he asks.

Song thinks on it. "That one might work, actually."

"Hope so, or else you'll just have to pine from afar," Bohei stands up, blowing on her nails to dry them. "Or grow a pair and tell her you like her. Are we watching a movie or not?"

"We're watching," D'wei says decidedly, while Song moans, hopping off the counter and pulling Song into the living room by the wrist. "Don't worry, we'll watch something that's not about romance so you won't feel bad."

Song scoffs but settles herself on the couch between them nonetheless. D'wei's assurance turns out to be a complete lie, and they watch Pride and Prejudice, but whatever, Song's totally not thinking about Katara while the movie plays.

"Hey, Song, do you want Katara to stroll determinedly toward you through the morning mist wearing that exact unbuttoned shirt?"

Shifty silence from Song. "She does! D'wei, she does!"

"It would be super romantic," Song mumbles.

"Holy shit! Dude, you'd better tell her how you feel, or your ovaries will shrivel up!"

Eye roll. "I'm pretty sure you can only say that about people with dicks, Bohei, it's not like Katara's going to get me pregnant."

"But you want her to!"

***

On Friday, the week after their project was assigned, Song blinks the rain out of her eyes, holds her phone to her chest to keep it relatively dry under her bowed head and stares blearily at Google maps. Picking her head up she squints at the street signs, turns left, and then finally spots a sign saying "The Jasmine Dragon" above what looks like a small but cozy shop across the street. Grateful to have finally found the place, after trekking halfway across the city. Song had finished her exam earlier than expected, and with her and Katara's project deadline coming ever closer, she'd texted the other girl to see if she had any free time to work on it right now. Katara had agreed, saying she was studying with some friends at a place called the Jasmine Dragon. So here Song is.

Hurrying into the shop, Song relaxes after getting out of the rain, pulls the hood of her jacket down and snakes her braid out from where it's pressed uncomfortably between her backpack and her shoulder blades. The Jasmine Dragon tea shop is well-lit against the downpour, filled with comfortable armchairs dotting the room in twos and threes, with one long table at the back of the shop. Seated at the table are a few people working quietly by themselves, along with Katara and what must be her friends, working not at all quietly. Katara is sitting next to a boy who looks enough like her to be her brother, along with two people Song doesn't recognize, a boy with a completely bald head and shorter girl next to him. And--

"You!" Song shouts, then looks around herself, embarrassed, as she realizes how loud that was. Blushing a bit, she takes two sharp strides toward the table and says "you!" again, in a much smaller voice.

The boy on Katara's other side, with a nasty burn scar across his face and a Jasmine Dragon employee apron on, mutters "oh, shit," under his breath.

Katara is looking at Song, confused. "Hey Song, this is Zuko. How do you--"

"You're the asshole who stole my bike!" Song says angrily. Bike thief, whose name is apparently Zuko, goes bright red.

The shorter girl across from him lets out a laugh. "Oh man, Zuzu, you have the worst luck!"

"Shut up, Toph," Zuko mutters, eyes anywhere but on Song.

Katara lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Just once," she says, "just once, I would love it if someone recognized you from something nice you did for them, instead of whatever dick move you pulled."

"Never gonna happen, sweet sister!" The boy next to her crows happily. "Our Zuko was an asshole in a previous life!"

"Last year was a previous life?" The bald boy says, half-serious, and then high fives Katara's brother uncertainly.

"Fuck all of you," Zuko says. "He's doing his best," the shorter girl says dramatically, then slugs Zuko in the arm.

"Wait," the bald kid says, turning to address Song. "Are you sure it was him?"

"Yes," Song says through clenched teeth, "I saw him leave a party at my house on my bike last year!"

It was one of the only parties Song and her housemates had thrown that semester. From what she can remember, Song spent a good portion of the evening trying to get close to the moody boy who was drinking alone in her kitchen. She had definitely tried to flirt with him, she remembers, cheeks going red, before Bohei had pulled her away to do shots. At the end of the night Song had passed out on their living room sofa. She woke up some time before morning at the sound of the door closing to see the moody boy, who was definitely Zuko, pick the lock on her bike and ride away on it, but she was too drunk to realize what had happened. In the morning, it was too late. Nobody else seemed to remember the boy, and she had no luck finding it.

Back in the tea shop, the bald boy is trying to defend Zuko. "That doesn't sound like something Zuko would do," the kid says, a bit soothingly.

"No, it does," Katara counters. The shorter girl nods while Zuko hangs his head.

"Yeah, that was me." He admits. "Look, I'm really sorry. I...was in a bad place that year, and I was super drunk, and--"

"Yeah, whatever, " Song says, uncomfortable with his honesty. "Are you going to give it back or not?"

"Of course he's going to give it back," the bald kid says enthusiastically. Song wonders who died and made him group spokesperson.

"Wait, do you even still have it?" the other girl asks. Song notices that she hasn't been making eye contact or even turning her head to look at anyone talking. She catches eye of the cane lying next to the girl's chair and realizes she must be blind.

"Yeah," Zuko says uncomfortably. "I woke up the next morning and, I, uh, didn't know what to do with it? So I just...kept it in the garage." He runs a hand through his hair uncomfortably. "It's still there."

Song, who has dropped her bag to the floor and started peeling off her jacket, throws up her hands. "You haven't even been using it?"

Zuko coughs. "No?"

"Ugh!" Song shouts, furious that he didn't even seem to need the bike.

"Look, I'll, I'll bring over to your place tomorrow," Zuko says placatingly, standing up. Song shoves past him and falls into his empty chair. "Yeah, maybe you should have tried doing that eight months ago, when you drunk-stole it from me," she deadpans, before turning to Katara. "Are we working on our project or not?"

Katara looks like she wants to keep laughing at Zuko's expense, but stops herself when she sees Song's face. "Uh, yeah, sure. Guys, this is Song, from my biology class. Song, this is Aang, Toph, and my brother Sokka." She points to the bald kid, the girl, and the dark-skinned boy next to her in turn. "You already know Zuko."

Song grits her teeth. "Song, I--" he starts helplessly.

"Zuko!" Someone calls from the back of the shop. "A little help back here?" From behind her, Song hears Zuko sigh. "I'll see you guys later," he says, before walking away. "Let us know if anyone else accuses you of something awful!" Sokka calls out after him gleefully.

"Or if something else from your dark past comes up to bite you in the ass! I want to start a facebook album!" Toph adds, and Song snickers, despite herself.

"Sorry about Zuko," Katara says carefully. "He was in a really bad place last year."

"So I've heard," Song says drily, fishing out her notebook and a pen.

"I'll make sure he gives you the bike back," Sokka offers. Song nods minutely.

"Why don't you guys get out of here," Katara says after a moment. "It's not like you're getting any work done."

Sokka opens his mouth, clearly affronted, but Song beats him to it. "No, you guys don't have to go, it's okay," she starts, but Aang catches onto Katara's meaning and has started packing up his stuff.

"No, Katara's right, we'd just waste your time," he says easily. "Come on, Sokka, Toph, we can study at my place."

Sokka sighs dramatically, but helps Toph get all her stuff together nonetheless. "Ugh, fine." Then he shoots his sister a sharp grin. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Katara splutters indignantly while Toph cackles. Song can’t even begin to guess what that means. “Nice to meet you, Song!” Aang calls over his shoulder before tailing Toph and Sokka out of the shop.

Song raises an eyebrow in Katara’s direction. “Ignore my idiot brother,” she says hastily, dark skin growing rosy with a blush. Maybe Song does know what that means.

“Do you want something to drink?” Katara continues quickly. “The weather is so shit outside, a hot drink will probably make you feel better.”

“I’m studying to be a nurse, Katara,” Song says, rolling her eyes but letting a grin escape so the other girl knows she’s playing. katara’s face lights up as she sticks her nose in the air. “Well, I’m studying to be a doctor, so I don’t know what they cover in nursing school.” She gets out of her chair and flounces towards the counter.

“You don’t even know what I want,” Song says half-heartedly, eyes on Katara’s ass. “You’ll like what I get you,” she says airily, half-turning to catch Song in the act of looking. Song blushes again, but boldly meets Katara’s eyes. The other girl smirks, before turning to the woman at the counter and rattling off something Song can’t hear.

When Katara returns a few minutes later, steaming mug of tea in her hand, Song has unpacked her laptop and is half-looking over the work they’d done so far. She passes the mug to Song. “Thanks,” she says gratefully, warming her hands against the bright red ceramic of the mug. “How did you guys find this place?” She asks, fighting off a yawn. Holding onto the warm tea has suddenly reminded her how tired she is.

Katara takes the seat across from her, picking up her own cup. “Zuko’s uncle owns it,” she explains. “Zuko’s really sorry about your bike, I know he is,” she says earnestly, casting a glance across the shop at him moving around in the back. “He went through a lot in the past year, he used to be such an asshole, even to us,” she adds. “But he’s alright now.”

Song doesn’t know what to say, can’t quite believe her, so she takes a sip of her tea instead. “Oh, it is good,” she said, surprised. Katara smiles in satisfaction. “Uncle Iroh thought you were a fruit tea girl, but I told him different. Guess I was right.”

It’s cheesy, it’s so, so high school, but Song’s stomach flutters at the idea of Katara knowing what sort of tea she’d like. It's got her tongue tied, but Katara saves her by asking about her day.

“It was good,” she answers. “I finished my international relations exam early, that’s why I texted you that I had time.”

“Well look at you, smartypants," Katara says, and Song scoffs. They spend the rest of the afternoon like that, sort of but not really working on their project, until Sokka comes back to pick up Katara and gives Song a ride back to her apartment.

"See you tomorrow!" Katara calls through the car's open window. Song shoots her a confused look. "When Zuko and I come to return your bike!" She reminds her. Song agrees, but doesn't think anything will come of it, which is why she's so surprised to open her apartment door at eight o'clock the next morning to see Zuko and Katara in her doorway, bike in hand.

"Good morning!" Katara says triumphantly, and Song stares. Katara, she, she looks so incredible Song can hardly believe it. Her hair is perfect and shiny, and she looks like she's wearing extra eye makeup. Zuko, meanwhile, looks like how Song feels, bedraggled in comparison. "Told you we'd bring you the bike!" Katara says excitedly, while Zuko yawns next to her. "Here, here you go," he says, steering the bike into Song's apartment. "Uh, thanks," Song answers slowly, leaving the bike by the door.

"Put your shoes on, we're taking you for breakfast," Katara instructs, and before she realizes what's happening Song finds herself in the back of Zuko's car, sitting next to Katara and behind a girl Song vaguely knows from one of her politics courses last semester, who Zuko introduces as his girlfriend. Song thinks Mai is way too cool a girl for someone like Zuko, but keeps her mouth shut.

"Go to the diner on fifth," Katara instructs, and in front of Song Mai scoffs. "No way, their coffee is garbage."

"All diner coffee is garbage," Zuko offers from behind the wheel, and behind him Katara says "I want pancakes. We went to your shitty coffee shop last time."

"It's not shitty, you just don't appreciate aesthetics," Mai sniffs.

"It's overly minimalist and their cake is bad," Katara says bluntly, before turning to Song. "What do you want to do?"

Song blinks, slightly overwhelmed at being thrust into this dynamic of people who were clearly comfortable in each others' lives. But also, it's early, so: "I want to eat eggs."

"Diner it is, you're outvoted, Mai!" Katara crows happily.

"You didn't ask me what I wanted," Zuko protests, already steering the car in the direction of the diner. "We know you're happy with either one," Mai explains.

"Always happy when I'm with you," he says to Mai, and Song can see his face in profile, he's offering Mai a small smile. Mai meets him halfway and gives him a quick kiss.

"Eyes on the road," Katara interrupts, pulling a face to make Song laugh in the backseat. It occurs to her that this might be something of a double date.

And it's definitely a date, she realizes, or she hopes, because Katara has squeezed herself next to Song onto the vinyl covered cushion of the diner booth, and keeps knocking her knees into Song and, once, even holding her thigh flush against Song's. She eats off Song's plate with no remorse, encourages Song to do the same to her, and quietly flirts with Song for most of the meal. It's enough to give Song a pleasant whooping feeling in her gut that lasts the whole day.

The restaurant environment is certainly helping, Song loves diners. The way they all sort of look the same, the ridiculously long menus, the poor lighting, all of it. It's her and her mother's favorite place to go, and when she lived at home they used to go there almost every day, even if it was just for a cup of bad coffee. Song feels at home here, which is why she loves the diner so much.

Besides Katara's flirting, Song actually has a good time enjoying Mai and Zuko's company. Maybe he really was a different person when he stole her bike and ignored her at her own party, because now he's making an effort to include her in the conversation, filling in the gaps into which she might have fallen, being the odd one out in a group of friends who knew each other so well.

"We went to school together first," Zuko is explaining, gesturing to himself and Mai. "A different school, actually, one our parents wanted to go to. It was really close to our hometown. Caldera College."

"Our parents are in business together," Mai says. "Well, my father works for his father."

"And my father wanted me and my younger sister, Azula, to work for him too. But that, uh, didn't work out…" his hand moves to the scar on his face, and Song stifles a wince. "So I left the old school and came here. Well…"

"His Dad cut him off," Katara butts in. "But it was actually a good thing, here I met these guys." Zuko says with a small smile.

"Didn't start off as a good thing," Katara mutters, and here Zuko blushes, tilts his face to the table. "Yeah, those were my uh, my bike stealing years," he grimaces another apology at Song.

Katara yelps, it seems like Mai has kicked her under the table. "But we're good now," she adds brightly.

"Like I have to keep reminding you," Zuko says, raising his eyebrows, and now it's Katara's turn to look chagrined. Song wonders at their need to air their dirty laundry in public.

"And then I decided fuck my parents' business and followed Zuko here," Mai declares, setting her hand on top of Zuko's.

Song nods. It's a lot to process. "What about your sister?" she asks, wondering if this is the right question.

Maybe not. The emotion runs from Mai's face like colors in the wash, her mouth settles into a dull line. Zuko sighs, and, next to Song, Katara huffs out a breath. "We're working on her," Katara explains.

"My Dad was working her to the bone, putting way too much pressure on her after I left," Zuko says. "Especially after I left," he adds to himself, and on the table Mai squeezes his hand. "She snapped, dropped out," Mai picks up from him. "We're trying to make sure she gets the help she needs."

"That's really hard, I'm sorry you have to go through that," Song offers, and Zuko nods. "She'll be okay," he says, face determined.

An awkward pause, but the first of the meal and the plates are nearly clean, so that's a success. "You don't have any siblings, right Song?" Katara asks.

"Mm-mm," Song shakes her head. "Just me and my mom," and Katara nods, which she was expecting, but then Zuko does too, and maybe they have more in common than she'd thought.

"Mai has a younger brother," Katara volunteers, and Mai rolls her eyes but tells them an adorable story about Tom Tom regardless.

"That was...nice," Song says truthfully, when they've dropped her back at her place and she's got Katara on her doorstep.

"They're alright, huh? I thought you'd like them," Katara says happily.

Song, feeling warm and full of eggs and lukewarm coffee, has the confidence to say "maybe they're not the only ones I like," eyes catching Katara's before dropping to her doorstep.

"Yeah," Katara says softly, hand reaching towards hers. "I--"

She's cut off by the sound of the horn. Katara turns and Song sees that Mai's got a hand on the horn while Zuko sits by looking pained. Katara gives them the finger before turning back to Song. "I like you t--"

The horn again. "Katara, let's go!" Mai shouts, and Katara rolls her eyes and Song smiles. "I'll see you at our next study session?" she offers.

"Yeah," Katara says, looking relieved, "I'll see you then." She waved goodbye, bounds off the porch toward the car, opens the back door while yelling "jesus christ, Mai, I'm here, calm down."

Song unlocks the door of her house, still smiling, and heads inside.

***

Katara and Song meet, one last time, to go over the paper. It takes them ages, both of them are deliberately dragging it out. They go through it one line at a time, taking turns reading the paragraph aloud and double, triple checking the references. When it's finally over, i's crossed and t's dotted, Katara's hand hovers over the trackpad of her laptop, mouse on the 'submit' button. "Are we ready?" she asks one more time.

"You're sure it's cool with Pakku if we do breast cancer?" Song clarifies, and Katara scoffs. "Oh, actually Song, I forgot to tell you, he's not cool with it and we're going to fail. Whoops!"

"Okay, okay," Song laughs. "We're ready, do it."

Katara takes a deep breath, clicks the trackpad. Project over.

"It's in the lap of the gods now," Song comments, and Katara nods, shutting her computer.

"Now what should we do?" she asks, and for the first time she's almost shy. It's utterly adorable, the light blush under her eyes, and Song steals herself and says "well, I'd like to kiss you now."

Katara stiffens beside her. "You should definitely do that," she says hastily, and Song laughs, reaches up slide her hand into Katara's hair and leans in, catching her lips.

It's perfect. Katara tastes like everything Song had imagined plus more. When she pulls back Katara chases her lips. "I think you should give that another go," she murmurs, and Song laughs again, happy to oblige.

It's even better the second time. They kiss for a while, lazy, and afterward, when they're resting their foreheads against each other, Katara speaks up.

"I think I'm going to take you on a proper date," she muses.

"I'd like that," Song answers happily. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

#kira writes #avatar the last airbender #song #katara #song x katara #zuko #mai #zuko x mai #atla wlw week #atla #college au

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fasa-umich · 3 years

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Bea Fandiño, FASA 2020-21 Co-President

One Last Time

We’re gonna teach them how to say goodbye...

3/19/2021

Wowee, what a whirlwind of a year. These past twelve months have been filled with so much to be proud of—I even started a list of “Proud Mom Moments” last May so I could document all the small triumphs worth recognizing. It’s as if I’ve been planning out this testimonial since my election into the Co-Presidency, so I only laugh as I try to put all these thoughts to paper the day after my testimonial was supposed to be done (sorry ading Janielle—Filipino time, am I right?).

“Pick up a pen, start writing.”

I want to start off by saying that this year was not easy. It wasn’t for anyone. Our board came into our tenure hitting the ground running, full of visions and concrete plans for FASA, only to have them thwarted time and time again by circumstances out of our control. Let it be known that if this was a normal year, our board would have absolutely crushed it. x1000.

But it wasn’t a normal year. And you know what? We still crushed it. We changed the game. And while it can be so easy to focus on what could have been, doing so would distract us from celebrating everything that was.

This was the mentality Izzy and I pushed at the onset of the summer. Yes, FASA has traditions. There are certain aspects of our programs that everybody loves and expects to see each semester. But FASA is also dynamic. Every year, boardies are challenged with finding the balance of upholding tradition while trying new things and pushing the boundaries. And with the nature of this year, there was no better time to challenge ourselves to do the latter. Because we wanted to do more than just “survive”—we were ready to reach new heights.

Pinay Power looking fire as hell

So what exactly was FASA this year? If I had to choose one word, it’s resilient. Bouncing back after each hurdle, our boardies refused to give up on this org; as did our members, who stayed with us through it all. PCN can’t happen in person? Cool, let’s turn it into a frickin’ MOVIE. Can’t have big group gatherings? Okay, let’s leverage our FAM’s to build stronger small-group bonds. Can’t travel to external orgs? No big deal, let’s organize virtual discussions with our Michigan Philippine Student Associations and our fellow Latinx friends on campus. Even in the face of adversity, FASA resiliently remained rooted in culture, tied together in family, and strengthened by our dedication to the community.

Pop quiz: What are the three ~pillars~ of FASA?

None of this could have been accomplished without the perseverance of our board. Without Janielle’s commitment to high quality. Sean’s willingness to ask important questions. Josh’s contagious, positive energy. Kris’s flexibility and open mindedness. Christine’s constant, uplifting support. Lauren’s willingness to step up for anyone and everyone. Angelina’s dedication to collaboration. Jason’s careful consideration for vision and purpose. Jolene’s innovative ideas. Estelle’s passion for navigating cultural discussion. Kate’s constant communication and initiative. Sam’s critical eye when we’re overthinking things. Kaitlyn’s honesty with what she believes is best. Izzy’s never-ending drive to make sure each person feels heard and supported. To my boardie family, you are an absolute inspiration. Your work ethic is unmatched, your care invaluable, and your determination a force to be reckoned with. It has been a true honor to work with you, to learn from you, and to be your friend.

“And I know we weren’t perfect, but I’ve never felt this way for no one.”

When people ask me what my favorite aspect of the Co-Presidency is, I actually find a strong parallel with my past experience as Performance Chair. In performance, you get to see people grow throughout the year, building up unique confidence and boldness through cultural expression. As Co-President, I had the honor of seeing that growth extended as I watched those same individuals rise as leaders and come to own their position in FASA. Through the trials and successes, to be granted a front-row seat in that journey is a privilege, and I thank each of my boardies for letting Izzy and me join along for the ride. We definitely took a more hands-on approach this year (hopefully you didn’t get too sick of us, lol), and with that, an even deeper understanding of the efforts and motivations of the people who make it all happen. And being challenged to make the tough calls, actively listen to what people have to say, take action to move forward, and use my voice to stand up for what I believe in, I learned just as much from my boardies as they (hopefully) did from me. Even as Co-President, there is always more FASA and Filipino culture to explore, as well as more to learn from those around you.

“I wanna talk about what I have learned, the hard-won wisdom I have earned.” -Boomers

On that note, FASA would not be standing so tall—well, as tall as a Filipino can be—today if it weren’t for our general members. To my first years: Your energy is what kept FASA fueled this entire year. To my sophomores: Thank you for sticking with us, engaging with our programs, and keeping FASA a part of your life. To my alpha dings juniors: Literally, I can’t imagine life without you. To my grad student population of ~2 (and growing!!): You are history in the making! Keep the momentum going! And to my seniors: I’ll save the sappy goodbyes for when you leave my life forever in a month (mom and dad, I already know I’m gonna cry and you’d best believe I’m bringing you down with me). But in all seriousness, your constant support over the years has shaped FASA into the community we know and love.

Like I said before, FASA is dynamic. It’s ever-changing. But even if the FASA 10 years from now is different from the FASA we know today, the impact we have made on each other’s personal and cultural journeys remains true. That’s the beauty of this family—stripping away the official title and positions, at the end of the day, we’re all just defining our own Filipino American experience together. And though FASA will continue to change, that personal impact is something that will stand the test of time.

“No matter where life takes us, nothing can break us apart...I just wanna be with you.”

Okay yeah yeah, I know I’m a sap, just let me be Feelings Chair for once. Before I wrap things up, there are a few people I want to acknowledge:

Mai-Ly and Elisa: X FAM BEST FAM!! Seriously, you should be incredibly proud of yourselves as FAM Heads. X FAM broke records this year, and I could not be more happy with the top-tier music videos, hella extra [exclusive] merch (other fams be jealous), COASTERS (lol), and overall stronger fam. Thank you for putting up with my sometimes overly Type A agendas and being so flexible amidst the craziness.

Kris and Josh: Long! Live! FASA! Performance! You guys were faced with a lot of difficulties this year. But in the end, you kept performance not only alive, but also fun and something members looked forward to, whether virtually or in-person. I am so incredibly proud of you and honored to have been your dancer :).

Izzy: The Isa to my Bella, the Pierogies to my Beaf. Thank you for being the absolute best co I could possibly ask for and the most amazing friend in the world. You challenged me to keep the big picture in mind and were integral in helping all of us (especially me) balance hard work and fun. As someone easily caught up in the grind and instinctively expecting others to be the same, you kept me in check and indirectly reminded me to take a breather and make sure board was enjoying what they were doing. I will forever have a love-hate relationship with our three- to six-hour calls, and you will always have a spot in my GCal for a Thursday night meeting-turned-dinner-turned-therapy session. It baffles me to think that we weren’t that close before 12 months ago. Thank you for being not only my inspiration as a leader but also my constant as a friend.

Team Isabella 4 Life

So where do we go from here? Admittedly, we couldn’t do everything we wanted to do this year. Izzy and I had a vision for FASA, and it can get discouraging when you’re not able to see your vision through. But at the end of the day, we had to accept that we might not be able to reach the end-goal. If the best we could do right now was focus on the present, make the most for our current membership, and set FASA up for future success, then we were gonna give that our all. And if the INCREDIBLE drive and work ethic of our Interns is an indicator of anything, I have full confidence in the passion, leadership, and people that will continue to join our organization and further its growth. FASA is in good hands—I can’t wait to see where it goes next.

“Your position is so unique.” “So I’ll use it to move them along.”

Looking back on why I ran for board in the first place my freshman year, I remember wanting so desperately to be able to give back to an organization that had given me so much. Thank you, FASA, for giving me the opportunity to do just that. Whether as a general member or Performance Chair or Co-President, I hope I’ve been able to create that safe space that makes FASA feel like home. I said it last year, but I will say it again—FASA, thank you for trusting me. It’s been an honor growing with you.

Mahal na mahal kita,

Bea Fandiño, FASA Co-President

#FASAPrez #2020.21

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nicole-lynne · 4 years

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Beach Daze

This was a request for the lovely @starshinekiszka and I hope you love it dear! I had so much fun with a little Boyfriend Jake at the Beach!

Please like, comment, and reblog if you liked this story! I really appreciate the love.

Warnings: NSFW 18+

The room was dead silent except for the little scratches of writing on the desks, furrowed brows of kids trying to magically remember the answers from the beginning of the semester. You carefully dropped your pencil onto the desk and did one last scan of your test. All the answers looked as right as they could be at this point, so you shrugged your shoulders and headed toward the front of the room.

Mr. Turner, your music professor, gave you a reassuring smile as you handed him the paper. He’d been your favorite part of the class, as a musical genius he was always in the mood for debating different artists and techniques. This class was going to be something you missed now that it was done. You nodded at him, mouthing a ‘happy summer’ and started for the door.

Finally. You had tackled your junior year of university and summer was here. It couldn’t have come any sooner. Even though it had been your own decision, you’d pushed yourself to get a 4.0 this year and man, it had made a few things tough.

As a result, you’d given up more weekend visits with your boyfriend, Jake, and forced yourself to study during every free moment. But in the long run, it would pay off when you got a great job...hopefully.

You flung the heavy wooden door open and skipped out into the warm sunlight, your arms spread out to your sides to bring your limbs back to life. It was officially time to relax.

You turned to head for your dorm but you froze in place and a grin came to your face as your eyes landed on Jake, perched on the end of the stairs, clunking his boots against the concrete column lazily. He was watching you with a cute little smirk on his lips. God how was he so attractive all the damn time.

“Jake, you’re here!” You jogged down the stairs and he jumped down just in time to catch you as hurled yourself at him. He had his long brown hair up in a bun and you played with the baby hair at the nape of his neck. It was rare that he put his hair up but it was a look that he pulled off so well.

“Hey mama.” He laughed as he stumbled to hold you both up. “I figured I’d surprise my special girl on her last day of junior year.”

“You didn’t have to do that babe, you shouldn’t have driven all this way. I know you were supposed to be having band practice tonight.” You untangled your body from his, opting for intertwining your fingers.

“Eh fuck it. Sam and Danny have both been ditching all week to hang out with Joy and Mckenzi. I think I’ve earned the right to skip out and come see my favorite girlfriend on the first day of summer.”

“I better be your only girlfriend, Jacob Thomas.”

Jake twisted a strand of your hair around his finger and gave you a cheeky little smile. “Trust me, one of you is all I can handle. You are a handful, missy.”

Playfull you slapped his arm pretending to take offense to that and he grabbed your hand out of the air, holding it tightly to his chest. It was impossible to hide how excited you were though. Somehow, he always managed to surprise you even after all the years you’d been together. He always did the exact opposite of what you expected and it still swept you off your feet.

“Well I guess I’m pretty lucky that the boys are completely irresponsible, aren’t I?” Lifting up on your tiptoes, you popped a sweet kiss on his cheek. “So how do you want to spend your day playing hookie, bubba?”

“I was thinking you might want to take me to that beach you’ve talked about. We’ve never had a chance when I’ve visited before and it’s a perfect day to spend outside.”

Excited at the idea, you jumped up and down like a little puppy. “Yes, Deerlick Creek Beach, that sounds perfect. I’ve been dying to take you there since I first found it. It’s this park that backs right up to the beach and it’s just so beautiful. I kind of wish the guys could come too, it’s just the kind of place they would love too.”

“You’ll just have to settle for me this time, mama.” Jake jested as you two fell into step, heading for your dorm.

“Ahh, I guess you’ll have to do today. But I definitely won’t put up with this again.” You winked at him, squealing when he locked his arm around your neck and gave you a gentle noogie on your head.

~~~

An hour later, you and Jake were trekking through the parking lot in more comfortable clothes, your swimsuit peeking out from the Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt you’d stolen from Jake years ago and him in shorts and a button up shirt with barely any buttons done.

You glanced back to watch Jake battle to hold the cooler, the towels, and keep his sunglasses from falling off his head. Instead of going to help, you keeled over and burst out laughing harder than you had in weeks.

“Yes, ha ha, I look ridiculous. Now can you please help me, I’m struggling.” He deadpanned.

“Yeah, but it’ll cost you.” You giggled and took the towels out of his hand.

He glared at you for a second before his face cracked a smile and he readjusted his glasses. “You just better be glad that you’re cute or else I wouldn’t take this abuse.”

“Aw poor baby,” You squished his cheeks in between your fingers and he puckered up his lips into a pout at you, “life must be rough for the poor little rockstar. You really should be thanking me for keeping you grounded or all the fame would give you a big head.”

“Oh trust me, babe, I’ve definitely got a big head.” Jake wiggled his eyebrows at you arrogantly and strode off in the direction of the beach. You stared in his direction, your mouth gaped open wide in shock, unable to follow after him. He could come off so innocent, that when he said something dirty, it could completely catch you off guard. “You’ll catch flies that way, dear.” He smugly called over his shoulder.

Popping your mouth closed, you chased after him, your flip flops clapping loudly and echoing in the tree-surrounded parking lot. Jake smiled as you caught up to him and held his elbow out for you.

You two walked, arm-in-arm, through the cool, shaded park. He listened intently, a slight smile on his face, as you pointed out places you’d sat to study or things you’d thought the guys might like to do if they came to visit. No matter what it was, he adored listening to all the random thoughts that popped into your head. He’d missed you so much this year, the phone calls and facetimes never seemed to be enough to fill the hole in his heart for you.

After two or three laps around the path, Jake led you out to a spot on the beach. The beach was almost completely empty except for a couple that was miles away, only small specks on the horizon.

“Do you think this will be good? Should we move?” Jake was scratching his head, looking up and down the beach and mumbling uncertainties to himself. “I can find us a different spot, mama.”

“Jake,” You tugged lightly on his shirt and he , “as long as I’m with you, I really couldn’t care where we sit.” Deciding for the two of you, you unrolled your towel with a satisfying ‘thwap’ sound and laid it out on the ground.

Jake watched you lovingly, admiring the way you were sticking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth, complete concentration on getting all the corners to lay flat. Dropping the cooler, he unrolled his towel next to yours and plopped down on the ground.

The sky was the perfect shade of blue and the sounds of the lake lapping at the edge of the sand were like a soft melody that they could fall asleep to. But Jake could only look at you. He couldn’t tear his eyes off as you removed your shirt, exposing your bare midriff.

You twisted around to dig out your book and settled back into the sand. “You want me to read out loud for you, baby? We haven’t had the chance to read together in a while.” You asked as you flipped through the pages trying to find the last spot.

Jake gently grabbed the book from your hands and you looked up at him confused. “I was thinking we could maybe focus on something else...” He pressed his lips against your bare shoulder, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

A shiver ran down your spine with excitement, the feeling of his lips ghosting over your skin made the rest of the world dull around you, while Jake was crisp and clear in front of you.

“Jake, we’re in public...” You mumbled.

“No one is around, baby.” He lightly kissed the base of your neck. His fingers were rubbing tiny circles on your hip. All your objections were starting to float away as his scent of cigarettes and clove started to haze your thinking.

“What if someone sees us? We could get in trouble, Ja-” You couldn’t stop the gasp when he pulled your earlobe between his teeth and delicately bite down.

You wanted to be worried that someone might see you guys but, instead, your eyes fluttered shut as the sensations started to overwhelm you. It had been so long since you’d been able to touch him and it would be a lie to say you hadn’t missed it. Jake knew exactly which spots to touch to get a reaction out of you and he was using it to his advantage now.

You ran your hand against his chest and up around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You needed him against you so badly now.

“Someone’s a little feisty, have you been missing me like I’ve been missing you?”

“Always, now shut up and kiss me.”

Jake brought his mouth to yours and locked you into a heated kiss, his tongue swept past your lips and brushed against yours. Little moans and sighs were escaping you and he was swallowing each one happily. You could feel his boner pressed against your thigh and you had to force yourself not to rip off his clothes and take him right there.

He detached himself from you and leaned down to pepper kisses against the hollow of your neck and chest, nibbling little love bites as he went.

“I’ve missed the taste of your sweet skin so much. God, you’re so sexy, baby. I want you so badly.”

Jakes fingers trailed smoothly back and forth across your stomach, the rough calluses created a sensation that only he could give you. Once in a while, his fingertips would barely dip below your shorts and then back out, teasing you over and over again. You laid your cheek against his neck and whimpered, hoping he’d be done teasing you soon.

“You want something, little one?” He asked smugly.

Barely nodding, you said, “I want you to touch me, Jakey. I want you to make me feel good.”

Giving you a small grin, he skillfully popped the button on your shorts and pulled the edges back to give himself space. You glanced around to make sure that you were still alone before spreading your legs open a little more.

Hooking his leg over yours, he bent down and kissed you, softer this time. The kiss grounded you to the moment and it felt like you both were floating high on euphoria.

Jake slipped his hand past your shorts and swimsuit bottom and you moaned as he finally ran a finger through your folds.

Pulling his hand back out, he sucked his finger into his mouth and cleaned it. “You taste so fucking good, baby. I can’t wait to take you home and devour you for hours.” You whimpered at his words, unable to tear your eyes away from him hovering above you.

In one movement, his hand was back collecting your wetness. He moved his fingers up and around, avoiding your clit every time. The last time, he circled his middle finger against your clit and a jolt of electricity shot through your body making Jake chuckle at your reaction.

“Jakey...”

“Shh, baby,” He added his index finger to start rubbing from side to side, dipping down to brush against your entrance and then back again, “you’ve been such a good girl lately. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

As the words left his lips, he pushed his finger deep into your pussy pulling a groan of satisfaction from you. He dragged his finger from you, hooking it a little to brush against your g-spot.

“Why are you so damn good at this?”

“Because I love hearing all those pretty noises you make for me, baby.” Jake whispered into your ear and added a second finger.

You leaned into him, his arm cradling your head close to his body, your breathing getting heavier with every pump of his fingers. You could faintly hear how wet you were and that was just making you even more turned on to know that he could still do this to you.

Jakes fingers were snapping into you and the ridges of his knuckles dragging against your walls felt phenomenal. Every time, you wanted to close your eyes from the pleasure but you wanted to catalog every thing that was around you. The way Jakes lips were parted in concentration, small tendrils of hair falling out of his bun down into his face, the bright blue sky above you, the sound of the water lapping against the shore.

Then he started tapping his thumb against your clit and your vision blurred with pure bliss. Everything was overwhelming you. His sweet scent, the rush of being in public, each time he bumped against your g-spot, and you could feel the pressure in your stomach building.

Jake started moving quicker, simultaneously sucking of the sensitive spot under your ear making your moans louder and more needy.

“Are you gonna cum for me, sweet girl?” All you could do was whine in response. “Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.”

His dirty words were the final straw. The pressure erupted and you shuddered as your orgasm hit every inch of your body. “That’s it, baby, you look so pretty like this.”

Your pussy was contracting around his fingers, trying to pull him in deeper, and he kept pumping slowly to work you through your high and his thumb was rubbing back and forth against your clit. Finally, you gripped his wrist to stop his motions, your core starting to be oversensitive from such intense pleasure.

Jake removed his fingers from you and you sighed at the sudden loss. He kissed the top of your head and hugged you closer. You rested your forehead against his chest, taking a moment to just enjoy being with him. These were the moments you lived for.

“I definitely wasn’t expecting that to happen at the beach.” You giggled.

“I was.” Jake stated matter-of-factually. You leaned back to look at him, eyebrow raised with intrigue. “Babe, I haven’t seen you in months and you have needs. Plus, it turns you on thinking that we might get caught.”

You opened your mouth to refute that but he cut you off with a kiss. “Don’t worry, I think it’s hot. Now, why don’t you get that book back out, I’ve been missing your reading.”

“You want me to read...now? I thought you’d want to go back to the room.”

Jake rolled onto his back, pulling you with him. “I just want to enjoy as much of this beautiful day with you as possible. I want to listen to you reading Emily Brontë out loud and play around in the water.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “Besides, we have all weekend to do whatever we want.”

You laughed at him waggling his eyebrows at you and pecked a kiss on his lips. Then you grabbed the discarded book and opened it to the last place you’d been and snuggled into his arms. Jake ran his fingers through your hair absentmindedly as you read the first sentence.

#jake kiszka #jakey #Greta Van Fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka reader insert #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #nicole-lynnerequests #nicole-lynnefics

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thesnowinthemountains · 4 years

Text

NCT 127 helping you study

(a/n: i did my best but i apologize in advance if there are inaccuracies in certain fields of study, i also acknowledge that the lengths of these are hella inconsistent. oops.)

Taeil

He thought it would be a good idea to have music playing in the background while you tried to study. Tried. You kept getting distracted by a particularly good lyric or interesting instrumental arrangement until you were eventually about to crawl out of your skin. He was sitting across from you at the dinner table, your papers scattered everywhere, scrolling through his phone.

“Taeil, turn that off please.” You said it softly.

“No.”

You look up at him now.

“What do you mean ‘no’? Yes. Turn that off,” you laugh it off, but you’re the slightest bit annoyed. This is one of the biggest exams you’ll have this semester, and if you don’t straight up ace it, you’ll be struggling for the next few weeks. He shakes his head.

“Taeil-”

“I read somewhere that if you can associate sounds or music to words, it helps to memorize them. I’m trying to help.”

“Oh.” You pause. “Well, maybe try it again later, for now I don’t even have my definitions down.”

He finally looks at you.

“Fine.” The music stops and you fall back into a peaceful silence.

Johnny

“Alright, who painted ‘Composition with Red, Blue and Yellow’?”

“Mondrian. Come on, at least give me something difficult, I’m trying to pass this final,” you whine, head hanging over the side of your bed. Johnny sits at your desk across the room.

“Okay, how about some added incentive?” Your study sheet falls from his face and you realize you haven’t actually looked at him in about a half hour.

“Yes?” You lean up onto your elbows.

“Every answer you get right now is a kiss you’ll get later.” He cocks his head. You don’t even have to think about it.

“Deal! Come on, next question.” You plop back down. A few minutes later, after a lightning round of names and dates, colours and details, you sit up to find him writing on your notes.

“What are you doing? Those are important.” You frown.

“I’m keeping a tally so I don’t forget one later. We are at...” He smirks without looking up and counts his marks on the page. “Seven, so far.”

“Ah,” you blush, “carry on, then.” You think to yourself there’s no way in hell you’ll ever be able to focus on that particular page of notes again.

Taeyong

You were supposed to memorize the entire periodic table and you were absolutely overwhelmed at the prospect. This was one of those moments you wished you had some superhuman photographic memory that would require minimal effort on your end. Taeyong had you study piece by piece over a long period of time. At first, you hadn’t even noticed he was doing it - he was being sneaky.

“Hey, what’s the first row of the periodic table?”

“That’s a weird question.”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know, I just had a weird flashback to science class in high school, it was up on a wall next to my desk. I think it starts with helium, right?”

“Hydrogen and helium, technically, yeah, but that’s not really how they’re grouped.” You explained.

“Oh? So how are they grouped?”

“Well, you’ve got your metals, halogens, stuff like that.”

“Huh. And what are they?”

That’s when you started to catch on. You cocked your head at him.

“Which ones? There are a few different types of metals.”

“Well, whichever.” He shrugged, still playing his part perfectly.

Yuta

It wasn’t an exam, per se, but you had to put together a final portfolio for an art class, one you hated. It was supposed to be basic drawing techniques, but the professor was all over the place; not all that surprising for an art professor, but still annoying to follow. You were sitting on your living room floor, papers strewn everywhere, barely knowing where to begin. You had a drawing of a flower that was nice and simple, you had gotten the shading right, you liked it enough. One was of a hallway; same deal, the technique was alright, you set it aside, but you had to pick a total of ten drawings. You had dozens, some of the same thing over and over again because you, or the professor, were never satisfied. When Yuta walked into the apartment and found you in that state, he started by sitting quietly beside you on the floor.

“What are we doing?” He murmured after a minute.

“Freaking out.”

“I see. Anything I can help with?”

You didn’t answer, but held up a decent-enough drawing of a hand.

“Do you think the details on this are okay?” You asked. He looked at you and then the drawing. He liked pretty much anything you did, but he knew you needed brutal honesty if you were ever going to be finished with this. He took a long, deep breath.

“So, the index finger on this one looks a little wonky, I think this one,” he reached for another drawing of a hand, “has better lines, better dimensions. All the fingers are good.”

“Oh, I hate the thumb on that one, though…”

He shrugged.

“This one?” He picked a drawing of a desk under a window. “The light looks really cool.”

Doyoung

For your final assignment, you were to make a long, detailed marketing proposal to your class. If it was picked up, you passed, if not, you had an opportunity for a do-over, and a private presentation to the professor alone. You didn’t want the second option, you had other things to do after passing this class that did not include a one-on-one meeting with your middle-aged professor some time after the end of classes. You had been reciting the whole thing to yourself for days, you had prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a ton of visuals to aid you, but you needed a second opinion. You had gone out with Doyoung a handful of times, you both figured it was a matter of time before things between you were made official, so you had him over, sat him down, and launched into your presentation. At the end, you took a breath, then asked:

“How was that?”

He gaped at you.

“Well, hot, we’ll start there.”

“No, Doyoung, I meant would you go for this idea if you were the CEO of something?”

“Honestly, yeah. You made some good points, you had valid, real reasons for what you wanted to do and how you wanted to market this thing. I think it works.” He shrugged.

“You’re a business major, you better not be bullshitting me.”

“You’re a marketing major, you could probably tell if I was.”

Jaehyun

You had given Jaehyun a key to your apartment months ago. He let himself in regularly, and a lot of the time, he was there when you got home from school or work. This time, though, he walked in to you sitting on your living room floor, laptop on the coffee table, facing the couch. There was paper all over the floor, some crumpled, some ripped, some simply abandoned. He had to tiptoe and side-step all the way to you. Your hair was a mess, which he would’ve found endearing if your eyes hadn’t been bloodshot.

“What are you doing?”

You nearly jumped out of skin, startled.

“Fuck, when did you get here?” You asked, eyes wide.

“Just now. You know you have a desk.” He nodded to the wooden furniture in the far corner of the room. You sighed.

“I couldn’t sit there anymore, I was going out of my mind.”

“Well, what are you doing?” He asked again, picking up notes on the couch to sit, facing you.

“My final portfolio for my fiction class is due tomorrow and I haven’t worked on anything in weeks.”

“You’re always writing.”

“Yeah, I’m always writing, but I had two of these stories workshopped months ago and I hadn’t looked at them since. God, they needed so much work, Jaehyun, I can’t believe I actually submitted that. Plus, I was missing a good ten pages for the portfolio, which I’ve written now, thank god, but I have so many drafted versions, I don’t know which one I want. I wrote seven different endings. I’m not even sure about my characters’ names. Or if I want them to be named, nothing’s coming out like I want it, I don’t know what I’m going to do-”

“Okay, slow down, slow down,” he moved to sit on the floor now, facing you at eye level. “How long have you been writing?”

You looked down at the time on your laptop. You frowned, confused.

“That can’t be right.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“There’s no way-”

“Alright, go take a nap, I’ll order some food.”

Winwin

“I need you to play judge.” You told Sicheng.

“Judge?”

“Yeah, sit,” you placed him at the center of the couch, and looked around before handing him a spoon. “Tap that on the table if you need to interrupt me.”

He stared at the spoon.

“Isn’t that for weddings?”

“So, I’m basically defending a client accused of theft and-”

“Don’t I get, like, case notes or something?”

“So demanding.” You rolled your eyes but went for your notes. He looked them over for a few minutes before leaning back comfortably.

“Proceed.” He declared, voice loud and clear. You smiled before launching into everything you prepared for your final. He did a fine job of rebutting if possible and interrupting when necessary, though you had to stop him from objecting! about anything he disagreed with.

Jungwoo

As an education major in your first year, your big final assignment was to prepare an elementary-level language class to teach your fellow university-level education major peers. To prepare, you had Jungwoo come over and told him he’d be playing the role of a seven year old, which pleased him.

“I’m a baby, you know that. This is perfect,” he grinned, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

“Yes, now shut up, we’re learning vowels.” You said in your regular voice before switching to the over-enunciated, slightly higher-pitched voice of a first or second-grade teacher.

Mark

“How’s the essay going?” Mark asked, coming into your dorm room. He plopped down on your bed behind you.

“Well, so… get this,” you swiveled around in your chair to face him, leaving behind you a handful of novels, two different notebooks, and your phone open to pictures of your friends’ notes. “I’m supposed to write a compare-and-contrast essay about James Joyce and Samuel Beckett, of all people.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Mark, have you ever read Beckett? It’s like an acid trip in slow motion. You finish it, you have straight up no clue what you just read, but now you have to write about it.”

He frowns.

“And that other guy?”

“Joyce? He’s okay, I’m just glad writing about Ulysses isn’t a requirement. There are just certain things I’m not willing to put myself through.”

“Well, mind if I keep you company?” He leans back on your bed.

“Go ahead, just try not to distract me too much, I want to get this done today.”

“You won’t even know I’m here.” He puts his headphones in and lies back against your pillow.

Haechan

This boy had arranged a whole game night just for you. He had friends over, set up a whole tournament bracket in which he was, of course, your partner, and he made sure even if you didn’t end up winning, you would end up learning, memorizing, and having fun getting ready for your most dreaded final. Food was ordered, drinks were made, and finally everyone involved in this evening was sat around the dinner table, in a heated trivia competition.

Some days later when your exam came around and you saw the first questions, your mind flashed back to Haechan shouting the answer at the top of his lungs and standing up so fast his chair fell backwards. It had been a ridiculous, slightly stupid idea, but damn if it hadn’t worked like a charm.

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powertothefan · 4 years

Text

Coffee

A Stanford Pines x Original Character Fic

Hazel DeForest belongs to @evaroze

Stanford Pines is property of Alex Hirsch

This was something tossed together after discovering the adorable OC known as Hazel, she’s so cute and I love the design of her~ So, I did a little dabble of when both her and Stanford were in college and their first official conversation. I hope I wrote her write, as I have been a little rusty in my writing, Far too long since I posted something here that was worth the read. Anyway, please share any thoughts or feelings you have as long as it’s constructive.

Hazel was wandering the commons of the college that morning, a little on the early side. She left the door early that morning to do some research at the library for one of her papers. Just because Backupsmore wasn’t her first college pick didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to put in the effort! She wasn’t as dressed up as she usually would be, just a simple blouse and shorts. She had pulled on a pair of flats as well before herring her hair up in a big ponytail and tossing on her bright pink glasses. With her messenger bag full of notebooks and pens, she was ready to go anywhere

Glancing to her watch, Hazel checked the time. Her first class of the day wasn’t until mid morning, so she’d have plenty of time to get some work done before classes that day. Most of her dorm mates were sleeping in from yet another party. She honestly couldn’t believe it. Just because they were at Backupsmore University didn’t mean they could party the semester away. Who did that anyway? Not her! No, definitely not.

Hazel was terrible with social interaction. In truth, she would have probably never gained any friends unless they proactively were the ones to speak with her first. She knew a few other people, mostly from those forced social circles they did as an ice breaker during the first weeks in the dorms. Otherwise, her friend group was very, very small. She was fine with that though, most of the people she did know the names of were not people she would actively spend time with. They drank and partied and blew off their classes as if they could afford to do it. Hazel didn’t have that luxury. Every penny counted! Still, a very itty bitty part of her wished that she didn’t have such terrible social anxiety.

It would have made trying to introduce herself to a certain someone easier.

Huffing to herself, she let her thoughts pass on as she got to the library door. Stepping inside, it was calm and quiet. It was a massive place too. For a second choice college, it had an outstanding collection of literature. Likely because they didn’t have much of a sports team to spend money on. Either way, the ability to have such a vast collection of books at her disposal made her studies all the easier. Especially with her focus on mythology. She never would run out of resource material for her papers.

As she walked further into the library, she realized that it was very empty. In fact, there was really no one around at all, save for the librarian. Then again, it was a Monday. No one ever got up before classes on Monday, unless they were someone like her and super focused on their studies. It was all the better really, she’d have the whole place to herself. Wandering further into the library, she hurried to the folklore and mythology section. It was her element, her one true oasis. No one and nothing could take it away from her-

“Oof!” Hazel sounded as she smacked right into something. She hadn’t been looking where she was going, instead skilling the shelves as she walked past them. Just as she was stepping back out into the open areas beyond the shelves, she collided with someone, and hard. Books were flying, paper scattered by the ceiling fans, and the two moving forces pushed off the courses and onto the thin and worn carpet. Laying there, Hazel had to take a moment to breath, that impact hurt! Carefully, she groaned while sitting up, rubbing her side where he was sure she was charged into an elbow.

“Oh, gosh. I”m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going!” A deep voice said, A shadow overcoming her as a hand was offered up. “I was carrying too many books, and couldn't see a thing. I shouldn’t have assumed I was the only one here.”

The tone was upset, clearly more so at themselves than her. There was some obvious disappointment in their own carelessness. However, it was also very familiar...too familiar.

Not really thinking as she grabbed the hand, she was dizzy and shaken still, she was easily pulled right back up to her feet. With the bright ceiling lights no longer glaring down right into her eyes, Hazel could focus on the man who helped her up. As she locked her gaze on their face, about to give them a stern talking to for being so reckless in such a sacred place, her throat swelled and her heart stopped.

Stanford Pines... It was like an arrow to the heart, struck by a cupid with a sniper rifle. So accurate that it fried her brain. Stanford Pines was everything Hazel had ever wanted since high school! Originally, he was supposed to get a scholarship of some kind and head off to some amazing college. Instead, he ended up going to her only affordable pick. She had wanted to try and be good and say hello. He had been her obsession throughout all of high school after all, not that he even knew she existed back then...Hazel never had the heart to speak. Now, as an adult, and independent, she had told herself she’d try.

And boy, did she try.

They had gotten classes together, unknowingly of course because she hadn’t realized that he had any interest in the fields of mythology or folklore. They were English heavy studies after all, not the wonderful sciences that he seemed to be skilled in. Part of her knew that he was aware that she existed, he often waved at her with that handsome smile. However, every time that she saw him, with that grin and cute sweater vest, the ability to talk was replaced with the need to nervously vomit. In all cases since the semester began, she flat out ran away before she could lose her lunch to her anxiety. Not exactly the best way to say hello.

Now, here he was, his glasses skewed off a bit from the impact and his large hand wrapped firmly around her’s. Only a foot apart, both a little shaken from the impact but still breathing...or at least Ford was. Hazel couldn’t get her body to continue their usually automatic functions. As Ford seemed to get himself resettled by fixing his glasses, Hazel felt herself just melt at his touch. They were rough, but not painful, Just worn from all his tinkering and building. They were so large too, and not just because of the extra finger which she had always found to be an adorable addition to an adorable man.

Ford had really grown up, a lot more than she was prepared for.

“Oh! It’s you!” He said suddenly, bringing hazel back down from the second hand high of his existence. Breathing in suddenly, she blinked, her mind rushing forward to catch up to the conversation. “M-Me?” She weakly said, her voice still a little breathless from the lack of air in her lungs.

Stanford turned a slight shade of pink, giving a nervous smile of sorts as he tried to correct himself. “I mean, I recognize you from the folklore seminar class. ‘Folklore and Its Effects on Modern Development.’ You..ah, You sit in the row behind mine.”

His tone had gotten a little meek, almost as if the man was becoming uncertain of himself as he addressed her. Why was he getting nervous? She was the one having an internal battle between heart and brain!

Wait.

He was talking to her...Stanford Pines was physically talking to her! He knew she existed! The man she had been obsessed with for years knew they were in the same class. Holy crap! She needed to speak, to say something, anything. For the love of god open your mouth Hazel DeForest!

“Ah- RIGHT!” She said very loudly, her face going bright pink as her mind finally caught up to current events. “Rightrightrightrightrightright. I remember! You did the opening argument statement about how folklore was only lore until people could collect it! It lost the folklore touch when people found out it was all fact.” She blurted out, saying just about anything to show that she wasn’t a brainless zombie.

“Ah, well, it's true! Once something is discovered to truly exist, it isn’t lore. It’s Science. That in turn means it can’t be categorized as lore but as a truly existing species. The professor was not really impressed with my reports for that debate session but he didn’t flunk my report either so I guess my point was valid enough!” Stanford said, seeming to pick his tone back up while in a subject he could work on. “Anyway, sorry for running you down. I was walking to my table with more books and...clearly got over zealous.” It was then that Ford looked around, causing Hazel to pause and do the same thing. Oh, they had made a bit of a mess...The books were scattered all over, some having flown far enough to land on top of the shelves! His notebook was crumpled nder a couple and the pages from it seemed to have scattered to the winds, still being carried off by the breezes of the fan.

“H-here, I’ll help clean up.” Hazel said, pausing a moment as she then looked down at their hands, which were still tightly held together. Ford noticed this too, and quickly let go with a nervous chuckle before roughly clearing his throat. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll start over here.”

The pair turned away from each other, Ford kneeling down to grab and gently fix the books near his feet. Hazel did the same, grabbing a couple and fixing the pages before gently setting them on a nearby table. She then also started to snatch up the flying papers, trying to keep them from wrinkling any further as they continued to flutter at her feet. It took a minute, but with the two of them collecting they were able to get it cleaned up easily. The last book was picked up by Hazel, her eyes a little dazed until she read the title. Instantly, she was back to her usual self for a second.

“Ah, It’s here!” She said suddenly, causing ford to look up as he grabbed the last few books from their places on top of the selves. “Hmm? Something catch your eye?” “This book, I’ve been trying to get it for ages but every single time I get here it’s pulled off the shelves! I need it for my report on the correlations of folklore creatures and their real life potential counterparts. It has a segment on how folklore creatures and mythological monsters are created based on a person seeing something for the first time and using other animals to describe it! I wanted to read it for my paper and reference some of it’s points on how artistic interpretation cannot be trusted unless done while actually in front of the creature.” She rattled, her tone serious and smooth as her intellectual side kicked in, a finger moving up to adjust her glasses for a second. “Oh, You’re referencing it as well?” Ford asked, coming closer and putting the last of the books on the table. “I originally grabbed it because I’ve been trying to get it as well. Whoever has been hoarding it just got it back over the weekend. I’m using to further my argument that just because we depict creatures in a certain way does not diminish their potential existence. The author has a wonderful part about the statues of medusa actually and how they believe that medusa is a real being, but her hair was misinterpreted.” “I came here this morning to borrow it...Looks like you beat me.” Hazel said, suddenly feeling herself getting shy again.

Damn it, Hazel. This was your first real conversation with Ford and you were going to blow it because you couldn’t keep the talk going! What was worse, she had gotten up for nothing. Ford got the book first. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t have the heart to try and ask him to let her borrow it first. So much for getting a head start on that report.

“Do you wanna borrow it?” Ford asked suddenly.

“What?” Hazel squaked, not prepared for that statement.

“Well, I don’t have classes until mid-morning. That’s our Folklore course. If you don’t mind just using it this morning, you’re more than welcome to take whatever notes you need from it while I’m referencing other books. I technically already checked it out but if you need it now you can keep it until after classes. Then meet up later to give it back?” Ford asked, his tone strangely hopeful.

Was he- Nooooo, naw he couldn’t be...maybe?

“Um, well...I really do need the book for a few other things besides just the research. If it's not an issue I guess we could meet at the coffee shop off campus? The one with the big tables? It’s very dead in the afternoon on Mondays, so we could meet up after all our classes for the day and I’ll try to quickly get the notes I need before giving back the book. The library gets too busy later in the day anyway for me to focus.”

“Heh, yeah, I have to move my work back and forth from the dorm to here because the afternoon library people. However, I can get coffee later! I’ll need it anyway for my second wind of research. So coffee, after the day's classes?”

“Yeah, coffee!” Hazel said, suddenly finding herself smiling as her cheeks turned a bright pink.

Ford seemed to also, his own lopsided grin making Hazel’s heart flutter harshly in her chest. Stanford quickly stacked his books back up again, still grinning a little before carefully turning so he could see Hazel beyond the still massive stack of literature. “Alright then, I’ll get back to my work. I’ll see you for coffee.”

With that, Ford smiled again and headed off, hurrying back to his work table but making sure to take the time to check each eye before moving past. Hazel stood there, clutching the book to her chest as the gears in her head turned, trying to comprehend what just happened.Coffee, she was going to get coffee with Stanford Pines. A cute cafe~ Where people sat together close and chatted over lattes and teas. So, she didn’t actually drink coffee, as she preferred tea, but that didn’t matter! She was getting coffee with Stanford Pines!

Slowly, she took a few steps into a shelf area so that she wouldn’t risk being seen, before falling to her knees in giddy delight, covering her mouth to make sure her excited giggles and squeals did not echo throughout the whole place. Looking back to the book that she set down, she snatched it up again before darting out of the place with a high skip in her step. She had to get as much note taking done as she could, as she knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to focus on her work if she was sitting across from Stanford...But that was a problem for future Hazel, current Hazel had work to do!

#stanford pines #hazel deforest #Gravity Falls #GF AU #Original Characters #Original work #Fan Fiction #One Shot #Romance #First Meeting #Not my Characters #Coffee #Cute Couples #Ford x OC #Ford Pines #Stanford #Alternate Universe #Sweet #evaroze

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wanderinglotus7 · 4 years

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Crazy Crazy Crazy

Some days I just want to scream! Between school, work, and internship, I feel like I’m working three full time jobs. And the pressure is on. This week I started midterms and work (gosh). I’m finished with midterms for Clinical and Macro plus one essay for Human Behavior. Now, I have two papers due next Wednesday and Thursday. I haven’t gotten much sleep lately because of midterms and work. Along with midterms, I still have to complete assignments for Field Education which I feel like I’m behind. I’ve done four assignments out of a long list of other things that need to get done before the end of the semester. And I still have to focus and complete tasks required of me from Amirah. It was brought up yesterday in class that Spring semester might be online again. If so, can students get a discount on our tuition for next semester.

Okay, Restaurant Depot didn’t workout. I went for an interview, killed it, got hired, and then three or four weeks later I receive an email saying I’m no longer an employee. How did I lose a job that I didn’t even start yet? All things happen for a reason. God has a better plan for me. Back to the drawing board! Blessed, I got an interview with Chipotle. Now this opportunity actually worked-out. I’m an official employee. I work Friday-Sunday on the evening shift part time. I commend all those working in food service; it isn’t as easy as you would think. Every shift so far, I’m coming home with my feet and back hurting. I’m overall exhausted because of the long days. Mondays and Thursdays are the only days I really have to catch up on sleep, but that doesn’t always happen because of school work. I’m not going to complain because I need the money. Also, my coworkers aren’t bad people, they are friendly. And God answered my prayer because I’m working with people around my age and I wanted a working environment like that. I never asked what my pay will be so I have to wait for my first paycheck in order to readjust my budget. I can’t forget that Chipotle is still close to my house, basically down the street, I get free food on every shift, and a fifty percent employee discount.

Amirah is going great! The commute isn’t too bad; it’s between forty to an hour depending on the traffic. Good thing Kandi is good on gas because I have to fill her up every Tuesday. I get my gas in the area of my field placement because it’s cheaper than in town and other places around. Amirah went over their goal for HOPE 2020 and are able to open their second safe home in CT. They are in the process of hiring people for positions in MA and CT. Because of COVID, we only have three participants residing in the home, and spots are still limited for new participants. However, we might receive more because last Friday Heather and Sarah did some interviews for new participants and employees. In development, the organization plans to open a community resource center in January. I do feel like I’m not doing enough, but that what’s happens when I compare myself to others (I really need to stop doing that). At the end of the day, I am Me, and I can only be Me. My approach to situations will always be different from someone else’s approach.

This move has been a rough adjustment like the fortune teller told me. Last month, I locked my keys in the car which lead to a massive mental breakdown in the shopping plaza parking lot. All the new changes and emotions I’ve ignored hit me hard that day. It was a headache, but everything got resolved. God has me covered! Without him I don’t know where I’ll be at. I’m always praying and listening to what he’s telling me (I try my best anyway). I’m still reading my bible & devotions, I found new pastors that I relate to and seek ministry, and I always take the time to tell the Lord that I’m forever grateful for everything he keeps doing for me each and every day.

I need to do a better job of taking care of myself mentally. I keep placing this unnecessary stress on myself which makes life more complicated than it needs to be. I’ve been using my individual supervision at my internship as little therapy sessions which has been helpful. It’s nice just to hear myself out-loud without feeling crazy. I might need to change my self care practices just a bit especially with the weather changing (the cold in Boston is no joke). What’s consistent is journaling and listening to music. I haven’t written much poetry lately, however, I’m going to try completing the book Patricia gifted me. It’s a poetry activity book. I’ve done two topics, the next one is First Love (that’s going to be interesting). When things do get chaotic, I have people in my life that I can lean on. I need to work on allowing these individuals to be there for me, and ask for help when I know I need help. Suffering/struggling in silence isn’t healthy. Next Tuesday, I begin group therapy for my bulimia & body image.

I told myself last year that If I get into another relationship it was going to be a serious committed relationship that is going to lead to a future. I guess what...I’m in a relationship. And it’s with a former ex boyfriend. I don’t if that term really applies he’s the only boyfriend & ex I ever had. If I were to tell the entire story in-depth it would sound so complicated. Honestly, I thought I was going to meet someone while in grad school or meet someone (or people) in Boston. Me and Erik never really let each other go I guess. Some how we always end up reconnecting in some type of way. I struggled for a long time to understand if this was a sign that we should be together or this was a start to a toxic cycle. Either way, I approached the situation with caution. It’s been three years. A lot of things have happened during that time. We are different people. We both agreed that at the beginning neither of us was ready to be in a relationship, but we both tried in our broken states. It’ just a lot for me especially after finding closure and forgiveness and he reappears into my life (double whammy). No matter what, through the disappointment and dishonesty, I never stopped caring about him. I was always there supporting him through everything. Honestly, it wasn’t an easy decision, but I gave him another chance. I do see the changes he has made over the three years. Praying this is a blessing.

#life

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echodrops · 4 years

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The Promises I Made (2019 Edition)

For the past thirteen years, I’ve spent every New Year’s Eve compiling a list of fifty promises I intend to keep or fulfill over the next twelve months. The results have been truly amazing, and I have kept some promises I never thought I could. 2019 was… a nightmare that I can barely believe I survived, but I still kept some promises that I honestly did not expect I ever could.

This year, for New Year’s, there will be a new set of promises for to me keep, but here are the old ones, for review!

The Promises I Made (2019 Edition)

1) Be more proactive about tracking and following up with struggling students to decrease the number of students who drop from my class when they realize they cannot pass. Status: Somewhat broken? I tried really hard to be proactive with my students; however, there were some massive issues outside the classroom this year that made it extremely difficult to keep the focus on the students. When administration drags your attention away from the class, there is not a lot you can do…

2) Find a place to put in volunteer hours because uhhhh like this is actually important to my work evaluation and I definitely need something to write in that section… Yikes, this spring is my last chance to do this!! @_@ Status: Kept. I volunteered with the Utah Shakespeare Festival and it was super fun!

3) Install the fire escape window in the Utah house, no matter how much it might cost, because I can’t get a totally unrelated tenant in that basement without said window… Status: Somewhat kept. Okay. This one is a LONG story, but to be fair to me, I worked my ASS off to try and make this happen; just every single thing in the world prevented me from completing this promise, up to and including the city telling me I needed a permit AFTER I had already dug a massive hole in the ground for the window…

4) Buy sod to add grass to the front portion of the lawn so that it no longer looks like garbage. Status: Broken, but I did buy grass seed and put that out there. Unfortunately only some of it sprouted, but there is indeed SOME grass now growing there…

5) Fix the bricks near the windowsills on the Utah house to prevent long-term damage. Status: Broken. After dealing with the stupid window disaster, I had no time for this at all.

6) Get a watering system for my roses at the Utah house because I think my bro is probably killing them and that’s just not cool. Status: Broken, see above.

7) Work on the patio at the Utah house before it just flat out falls down. Status: Somewhat broken. Again, I tried to make progress on this—I called a patio guy to come out and assess how much it would cost to fix the patio—but the price I was quoted was so high that there was nothing I could do at the time.

8) Paint the stairwell so that there’s no chance of anything like lead paint or asbestos being exposed. Status: Broken. The leftover wallpaper glue continues to confound me…

9) Trim the backyard bushes so the neighbors don’t hate us anymore… Status: Broken. We trimmed a few bushes and at least got to the trees out front, but definitely a majority were left uncared for.

10) Move into a new house in Texas where I can get real internet, please for the love of god… Status: Kept. I moved into a very nice house with no scorpions!

11) Save money for my upcoming trip to Japan! 2020 baby! Status: Uhhh, broken. I’m not sure how I thought I’d be able to move into a new house AND save money for an international trip at the same time…

12) Get my wisdom tooth removed because it’s still there and still killing me, yikessss. Status: Broken. AUGH. I’m an idiot.

13) Make an appointment with an eye doctor for like the first time in years. Good job, Yehn, good job. Status: Kept. I got my glasses fixed and even got a new pair of glasses too!

14) Get my prescriptions refilled because I’m dwindling on asthma medicine and like… I could die from this… I should never have been left to care for myself; I’m not mature enough for this responsibility… Status: Kept, surprisingly. But I still need a new doctor because the last one I was going to wouldn’t give me any refills…

15) FINISH THE GIVEAWAY PRIZES I PROMISED LAST YEAR because holy shit I am incompetent and the worst and everyone has permission to hate me for starting things and never finishing them, fuck. Status: Broken. So broken. I am the worst.

16) Go dolphin watching in the Gulf for real this time. Seriously, it’s $10 Yehn, you can do this. Status: Kept, amazingly. It wasn’t as impressed as hoped; however, there was a lovely sunset.

17) Return to the Channel Islands to take better pictures. D; Status: Broken. T_T

18) Level all my classes to 70 in FFXIV before next expansion, please. Status: Somewhat broken. I didn’t have everything to 70 before the expansion, but I kind of feel like I should get credit for this one, because HEY, look at me now:

19) Organize and properly label all the photos on my computer so that I’m no longer desperately combing through folder and folder in blank confusion, looking for a single picture in a sea of thousands… Status: Kept. It took me like eight hours of work, but I actually did this.

20) Update Home and a Half more than once? PLEASE??? The guilt I feel over this currently is crushing. Status: Broken. And the guilt grows…

21) Complete the online American Literature class I am designing on time and with no corrections needed. Status: Kept. I’m counting this as kept even though TECHNICALLY there was one thing I forgot to finish and it came back and bit me in the ass; however, I was approved with no corrections needed.

22) Earn 100% completion for Kingdom Hearts III. So excited! Status: Broken. Um… This just didn’t happen.

23) Update my calendar with important dates—holidays, birthdays, etc.—and be productive about sending cards and well-wishes. Status: Somewhat kept. I wasn’t any better about sending cards really, but I did at least save all the birthdays in my phone so I remember them.

24) Get the garbage disposal in the Texas house fixed ASAP so I don’t have to wash the dishes by hand anymore because I absolutely hate that particular chore. Status: Kept. Then I moved, so it didn’t even matter.

25) Finish all the books my coworkers and friends bought for me recently so I can thank them for their recommendations! Status: Broken. So broken.

26) Actually move into my new place instead of leaving it completely undecorated and lifeless. Status: Remarkably, kept. Nothing has plastic on it, unlike at my old house where the nightstand didn’t get unwrapped even after two years of living there lol.

27) Try hard to get Creative Writing into a different area of the general ed. core so that more people will enroll in it. Status: Kept. I’m counting this because I did my darn best, but we are still waiting on the state to tell us whether or not the class will be accepted.

28) Get caught up on my Ebird reports, even the old, old, old ones I never put in because I was slacking. Status: Kept, actually. Whoo.

29) Throw away/return/sort all the stacks of old mail in the house (OMGGGG they’ve made me look like paper hoarder and I’m nootttt). Status: Broken. There’s just… a lot of papers to go through…

30) Clean up the garage before moving so that I don’t have to fight spiders to move when the time comes. Status: Broken, in that I did not clean up the garage in advance and did, in fact, have to fight spiders when it came time to move.

31) Find a way to boost grading productivity so that each class takes only two days to grade, maximum. Status: Somewhat kept. I was definitely better this year than last year; however, I really think the “two days per class” thing was too optimistic, so for the future semester, I allotted myself three days per class and I think it will work better.

32) Go to a totally new restaurant and try their food. Status: Kept. We went to a Mexican restaurant and I had trompo tacos (al pastor) which is probably not anything special to anyone else but it was my first time so lol.

33) Cancel old credit cards to make sure my credit is good before trying to buy a house (although I just checked my credit score and I’m in the great range already, so this is mostly for posterity’s sake). Status: Broken. But it didn’t affect my loan, so I guess it was okay. And it ended up being good I didn’t cancel my Best Buy card because I was able to get good financing on the new appliances I needed for my house.

34) Get official contracts from my tenants so I can use my rental income in my next loan calculation. Status: Broken, but I ended up not using that as part of the loan calculation anyway >_> so…

35) Talk to an HR rep about my retirement savings so that I can consolidate all my retirement accounts into one. (Man, look at all these ADULTING promises.) Status: Broken. Look at me failing all these adulting promises.

36) Really finish decorating my office so it looks super cute and all my students want to visit me. Status: Broken, but I think it sucks that I have to write this because it was really not my fault I couldn’t finish decorating my office. Our offices were all moved and disrupted by building remodels so I spent the entire year basically working out of a couple cardboard boxes.

37) Not sign up for ANY more new responsibilities at work in the spring semester. This is the biggest challenge. D; Status: Kept, by technicality. I was able to avoid signing up for anything new in SPRING… But fall… was a whole other story. XD

38) Migrate all the rest of my books to the new Texas house instead of leaving them in Utah… SOMEHOW. Status: Kept. I’m going to count this as kept. The only books left at the Utah house are my manga—I managed to bring literally every other book, which is very impressive considering I had only my small Camaro with its tiny truck space.

39) Use my twitter account more often to make it worth following. I will try!! Status: Kept… sorta? I mean, since I didn’t use the account AT ALL before, making even one Twitter post kind of counts as using it more, right? >_>

40) Keep my hair cut nicely so I look less like a mess (than I really am). Status: Somewhat broken. Although I think I got my hair cut more often this year than before, I don’t think I looked any less like a mess. XD

41) Successfully find a bridesmaid dress for my friend’s wedding that matches the rest of the wedding party. Status: Actually kept! It was incredible. The wedding I was in was even featured in a magazine because of how pretty it was!

42) Make sure my skin is in good condition for the wedding so I don’t look like a disturbing ghost… Status: Kept? I mean, in the end, looking like a ghost ended up being the whole point since it was a Halloween themed wedding so I kind of won either way.

43) Complete my BNHA manga collection. Since my bro bought me a bunch of the volumes for Christmas, I might as well. Status: Broken… I bought like… one volume. XD

44) See a groove-billed ani. (It’s another type of bird.) Status: Broken. Very illusive bird. T_T

45) Respond to messages, asks, and comments more quickly. I promise I’m not ignoring people… D; Status: Um, broken. I left many people on read this year, sorry.

46) Lose ten pounds so that I feel more fit and comfy. Status: Broken. I didn’t exercise at all this year, uff.

47) Pay down credit card debt by at least 1/3. Yikesssss, I really need to do this quick. Status: Broken. It’s hard to pay down a credit card when you pour all your money into buying a new house…

48) I will finally fucking finish that chapter 73 analysis of Noragami… I swear to god… Status: Broken. Uh yeah. This didn’t happen. V_V

49) Reach 1700 followers on Tumblr. You should follow me—I’m only marginally a waste of time and space! Status: Kept. Over 2500 followers now!

50) I will keep these promises. LOLLLLL. Status: Somewhat kept/somewhat broken. One year I really will keep them all…

Totals Kept promises: 18 Broken promises: 24 Somewhat kept/broken promises: 8

Well, there are more kept promises than last year at least… It was another really hard year, what with moving in the middle of the year, over-working, dealing with so much drama with the reaccreditation on our campus, and just EVERYTHING all at once this last year… I keep thinking things are going to calm down and then they never do. Please 2020… just let me rest…

My new set of promises will be up on the 1st!

#50 promises #new year's resolutions #IRL stuff #please 2020 #I need a break #it's not the roaring 20s #it's the snoring 20s #PLEASE

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ambitionsource · 5 years

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AMBITION Season 2 ♫ “Second Choice” [ 2.02 ]

CREATED BY Esther (rapunzles) & Maggie (daphnegolshiri) || S2 Tag || Official Page

TAKE YOUR PICK – The faculty organizes another duet week in an effort to bridge the student divides, but a change in rules creates more problems than solutions. Isadora gets a lesson in honing her inner diva. Harper and Shawn butt heads over how to handle the junior class.

59 Minutes (14.5K+ words) || No warnings apply.

[ ← Callbacks ] [ S2 Synopsis ] [ Are We Out of the Woods → ]

( Follow along with the music on Spotify here! )

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - RILEY’S ROOM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Happy When I’m Sad” as performed by Jonas Brothers || Instrumental

Close on Riley’s coveted moodboard, only it’s in the process of transition. RILEY MATTHEWS is slowly taking items down, trying to reorient herself in this new world and find her sense of gravity again. If that means starting from scratch, then so be it.

Still, she hesitates as she takes the scrap of notebook paper down from its central spot. The notes she and Lucas were passing back and forth last semester, still boldly declaring “you’re better” in his untidy scrawl.

Riley gazes at it, handling it gently in her fingers. Obviously torn on how to feel about it now in spite of how many times she’s looked to it for inspiration. That, and painfully wistful.

CORY MATTHEWS interrupts her daze, startling her. He asks if she’s ready to go, not catching onto her earlier moment of melancholy. She moves fast and stuffs the note in her pocket, nodding and tossing her bag over her shoulder.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S ROOM - DAY

FARKLE MINKUS is getting ready for the day, scrutinizing himself in the mirror. He’s wearing one of his favorite sweaters, but he’s dissatisfied with how it looks. It’s a little too loose around the middle. He pulls it off in a huff, sorting through his other clothes in his closet.

As he pulls a different selection, the dark fabric of this one allows for clearer imperfections. There are a couple of stray hairs clinging to the cashmere, a slightly more perceptible amount of shedding than one might typically notice.

He hardly focuses on that as he pulls it on over his head. What the dark color does accomplish is a more fitted appearance, so he decides that’ll have to do for now. As his mother calls for him, he runs his hands through his hair one more time in the mirror. Still attempting to maintain that perfectly polished exterior, yet there’s a frayed edge he can’t seem to smooth over.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Bright and early, MAYA HART is in the building before anyone else. She’s in the midst of an intense practice, not giving up any scrap of rehearsal time.

She stretches and moves with expert precision. The only aspect out of shape are her dance shoes, pretty worn and even falling apart in some places. She certainly can’t afford new ones.

Hence why she’s working harder than everyone else. She checks her phone for the time, tightening her ponytail before running through another routine.

INT. FOSTER HOME - KITCHEN - DAY

ISADORA DE LA CRUZ is finishing up a quick breakfast as she gets ready to head out, almost missing KAREN VAN HERSCHING as she enters carrying a crying ADRIEN WOODS. Isadora winces at the noise, but that’s only the beginning of her problems.

Karen questions why she didn’t wake up Ava and Arianna for school. They both overslept, and now they’re likely all going to be late.

Isadora: That’s not… my job?

It’s evident that Karen is not impressed with this response. She reminds Isadora that now that Blue is gone and moved out, she should be pulling more weight to help the family around here. It’s part of the expectations in this household.

Isadora looks less than thrilled about it. She mutters about being late herself and shuffles out, Karen looking after her in disappointment.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

More students are beginning to file in for the day, the hallways becoming lively and filled with chatter. Still figuring out her way around, HARPER BURGESS half-jogs through the halls until she runs into ERIC MATTHEWS. He asks if she’s heading to Jack’s office for their meeting.

Harper: Well, I’m certainly trying.

Eric laughs with her, offering to help guide the way. She questions if he just got here, but he explains he’s been here for a bit. He likes to show up early and get things in order before another full day at AAA -- and boy, has there been a lot to get in order these days.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Skateboarding up the street, DYLAN ORLANDO is on the phone with Asher. He explains that Lucas wasn’t at their usual spot to walk to school, so he doesn’t know where he is. He hopes he’ll still be on time, if he shows up at all.

As Dylan zooms by, focus shifts down the street a little further… around the corner and conveniently out of view, a parked car comes into frame --

INT. ZAY’S CAR - DAY

Which is where we find ZAY BABINEAUX, leaning forward across the median to kiss CHARLIE GARDNER. It’s clear they’ve been here for a hot minute, just out of sight and ready to head into school yet very… distracted.

They exchange a couple more enthusiastic kisses before Zay finally manages to pull away from him, catching his breath.

Zay: We should really go. We’re going to be late.

Charlie: [ humming ] I… think we can take another minute --

Another minute, another kiss. Zay can’t help but laugh, and “another” becomes a handful.

Zay: Oh, so being late isn’t a heavenly sin?

Charlie: [ over Zay’s laughter ] Shut up!

Charlie lightly shoves him and pouts, Zay laughing harder. He takes his face in his hands, making him meet his eyes. Although the mood is playful, there’s no doubt from the way they handle one another that they’re crazy about each other.

Zay: One more minute, then.

It’s difficult to maintain the pout when Zay is looking at him like that. Charlie fails to hold back a smile, allowing him to pull him back into another kiss.

Just as the school bell rings...

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Eric, Harper, and SHAWN HUNTER are grouped around JACK HUNTER, who is standing behind his desk organizing papers. He thanks them all for being willing to meet so quickly, then states they need to address the tension they’re still grappling with from the first week.

All of the faculty members agree, and Eric echoes Jack’s thought that it’s going to take a more concerted effort from all of them to get everybody back on the same page. Jack opens the discussion to ideas of how to accomplish this task.

Shawn: I’m thinking mortal combat. Throw ‘em in a ring Hunger Games style, last one standing is new top dog.

Jack: Remind me why I haven’t fired you yet.

Eric: Besides, we all know what our odds are and the last thing we need is Lucas taking over and setting the place on fire.

Jack: Or instituting a code of silence in a school for the arts.

Shawn, intrigued: … now that you’ve mentioned it --

Eric & Jack: No, Shawn.

Harper is lagging a bit behind, not accustomed to the faculty banter the way Angela once was. It’s hard to discern what’s serious and what isn’t, so she fires a shot and hopes for the best.

Harper: Have we tried just… speaking to the students?

[ Pointed silence. Shawn gives her a look, crossing his arms. ]

Shawn: Okay, I know you’re new here, but give us a little bit of credit.

She doesn’t appreciate Shawn’s tone, but they’re already moving past it.

Eric: Well, there’s always more paint in storage for another safe tactical --

Jack: NO. We’re still scraping paint off the asphalt in the parking lot from the last time.

Bad ideas aside, Eric reminds them that all things considered, the duet assignment from last semester was a rather effective way to bridge gaps between students. It brought the class closer together before it inevitably… fell apart again, and that same tactic could be just as impactful this time around.

This seems to sit well with the others. Harper obviously doesn’t remember what they’re referring to, but she nods along anyway. Jack declares that it’s settled, they’ll do duets this week. Shawn and Eric agree and leave it at that, heading out.

Harper hangs back for a moment, hoping to ask Jack for advice. But it’s evident from the way he settles into his desk and starts going through work that there is a lot on his plate, so she hesitates. When he lifts his head and asks if there’s something he can do for her she denies it, shaking off the uncertainty and assuring him she’s fine.

Jack: Are you sure? You know you’re always welcome to --

Harper: No, no it’s all good. No worries, I’ll… I can handle it. Thank you, though.

She gives him a confident smile, spinning on her heel and marching off to do just that.

INT. AAA - TECHNICIAN’S BOOTH - DAY

As Isadora enters the technician’s booth, the reason for Dylan missing Lucas becomes clear. It’s because LUCAS FRIAR is cooped up in his nook, still asleep from the looks of it. Given how haphazardly the panel is put to the side, it’s likely he showed up late at night.

Isadora sighs, shaking her head and marching over to him. She shakes him awake, surprised he’s still “in bed” given that the bell has already rung. That’s careless for him, and as she warns him when he grumbles at her and blinks himself awake, next time it’s going to be someone else other than her who finds him like that. Then they’ll have more problems than they already do.

Lucas waves her off, sitting up and starting to pack up. But Isadora made some important points, and she looks both irritated and concerned as she waits for him to get ready.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Maya stops by her locker before class, running into SARAH CARLSON and DARBY WINTERS. While Darby gives her a cheerful greeting, Sarah instead zeroes in on Maya’s decrepit shoes.

Sarah: Might be time for a new pair, Hart. [ a beat ] Oh, wait, that’s not an option, right? Why bother when the illusion’s already been shattered?

Certainly one way to remind us that Maya’s big money facade from last season was blown. She sneers as Darby laughs along, slamming her locker closed and leading the way to class.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The class is congregating in the front and center section like usual, Isadora and Lucas descending from the booth to join them. Dylan and ASHER GARCIA seem relieved as Lucas comes over to join them, fresh shirt disguising his overnight stay and bedhead hidden behind an increasingly familiar snapback.

Harper and Shawn enter the auditorium, the former taking front and center stage and eagerly getting the attention of the class. She begins to discuss the assignment for the week and what it might entail, when she’s suddenly interrupted by Shawn pulling her back. He tells the class to talk amongst themselves and pulls Harper aside, embarrassing her as he implies that she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

Shawn: I just want to make sure we’re on the same page before you go off saying whatever you’re going to say.

Harper: And you couldn’t have thought to do this… twenty minutes ago? Or any time before right now in the middle of class?

Shawn: There’s just certain things that you need to emphasize if you want this assignment to work. Mostly, they cannot choose their own partners. It will not help the situation.

Harper: What are they, toddlers?

Shawn: Have you met them?

Although Shawn has to be coming from experience, Harper still doesn’t care for the way he’s talking down to her. She nods along to his further notes before taking the stage again… and completely disregarding what he told her. She explains the assignment, and sets them loose to choose their own partners.

It’s instantaneous madness. Shawn is visibly like are you kidding me, but Harper seems proud of herself for standing her own. The chaos has already been unleashed, in any case.

Off Shawn’s mortified expression --

Cue title sequence.

Once the mandate has been laid down, everyone jumps into deciding their partners. Riley turns around and finds Zay, the two of them agreeing to work together as it’s been a while since they had a good team up.

Riley immediately begins brainstorming ideas, but Zay is distracted when he catches Charlie heading out of the auditorium. He offhandedly tells her they’ll catch up later, subtly jogging his way after Charlie. Riley watches him go, reluctantly accepting the dismissal.

Riley, flatly: Sure. No problem.

Panning to the techies, Isadora doesn’t even get the chance to breathe before she’s summoned from center stage. Maya points at her, already ready for action.

Maya: Izzy! Come on. I’ve got a lot of ideas.

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. No room for discussion. Lucas looks more than bothered as she tosses him an apologetic smile and heads towards the stage, obviously expecting things to go quite differently. Behind him, Dylan and Asher begin discussing their take.

Dylan: I’ve got it. It’s perfect. We have to do Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark.

Asher: [ catching his hands and shaking his head ] No, babe, no --

Dylan: I know it was a flop, but I think we could save it. I think we could really do something with it.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Zay catches up to Charlie, who seems surprised he even noticed he left. Zay begins to apologize for partnering with Riley without thinking about it, but Charlie doesn’t seem at all upset.

Zay: You know, she’s just going through it right now and I think she could use a friend in her corner.

Charlie: Oh, hey, no problem. It’s probably for the best anyway, considering…

You know. They both know what goes without saying -- the same factor that has them having this conversation in the hallway alone rather than in front of their peers, or parking down the street to kiss before school. Charlie shrugs off the bleak reminder, remaining positive.

Charlie: Besides, Yindra is a great partner. She agreed we’d be excellent, so long as I promised never to kiss her again.

Zay laughs, coming around to stand in front of him. He speaks softer.

Zay: Well, I don’t have to worry about that, do I?

Charlie, coyly: … no…

It’s a flirtatious little moment, and it’s effectively squandered as a couple of other students exit from the classroom nearby and head down the hall. They don’t pay them any attention but Zay and Charlie still take a couple steps back from one another, shifting into something stiffer.

They conclude that they’ll see each other later, heading off in separate directions as Zay jogs back to the auditorium.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Harper is gathering her things together for lunch when Farkle pokes his head in. He awkwardly states that he doesn’t see how he’ll be able to complete the assignment this week, given that there’s no one left for him to partner with.

Harper doesn’t seem to buy this, as she’s certain the numbers are right from her last count. Farkle obviously is a bit miffed she doesn’t believe him, so he reiterates the statement again despite not wanting to keep saying it.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

At the same time, Lucas is meeting with Shawn to express the same thing. He has a more blase approach, shrugging and claiming that he supposes he’ll just have to do something else.

Lucas: I mean, you know how not getting to perform is really gonna break my heart.

Shawn: Oh, I didn’t realize you switched your focus to comedy.

Harper and Farkle enter through the wings, coming to find Shawn. He explains that he was just discussing with Lucas what his alternative assignment might be, since he doesn’t seem to have a partner.

Harper: How interesting. Because Mister Minkus just came to me expressing the exact same dilemma. [ Clapping her hands together. ] There you go. Simple solution!

Lucas and Farkle stare at each other, and immediately both of them launch into complaints. No way. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen.

Farkle: I’d rather be skinned alive.

Lucas: That can be arranged.

Farkle’s eyes widen, looking to Shawn for a life preserver. He steps into the discussion, expressing that knowing these two and their unique dynamic this is probably not a good idea. He insists that Harper should trust him, after two years of being their teacher.

Harper: Is that so? Because what I’m seeing is a problem that two students are experiencing, in which a clear and present solution is sitting right in front of us. A good teacher would perhaps challenge those students to get over their own egos.

Lucas and Farkle both continue to argue, but Harper has had enough of the three of them. It’s only been a couple weeks, and yet they’re all tap-dancing on her last nerve. She lays down the law, stating that it’s either work together or fail the assignment.

Shawn is displeased, and the boys are downright livid. They storm off in their opposing directions, leaving Shawn to ruminate on it as Harper leaves him behind on the stage.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Isadora is making her way towards the techie table in the courtyard, JADE BEAMON and NATE MARTINEZ waving her over. However, she gets sidetracked by Maya, who swoops to her side and is already buzzing with a million new ideas she’s brainstormed over last period. She’s pulled in her direction without much effort, joining her at her usual table.

EXT. AAA - LUNCH COURTYARD - DAY

Lucas arrives just as they watch Isadora get steered away from them. Jade grimaces. JEFF MONROE makes room for Lucas.

Jeff: Well, that’s an unexpected twist.

Nate: Damn ugly one at that.

Lucas, deadpan: Given how today is going so far, can’t say I’m fucking surprised.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Isadora joins Zay and Riley at Maya’s table, all of them happy to have her join them. As they launch into eager conversation about what their number might be like, the girls agree that they’ll meet after school at Maya’s place to start rehearsing.

Although unintentional, Riley’s attempts to contribute to the conversation are brushed over. She gives up about halfway through, focusing on her food instead and keeping quiet.

INT. MAYA’S APARTMENT - DAY

So meet up Isadora and Maya do, the latter already launching into a myriad of ideas and energetically going on and on about how their voices should compliment one another and they’ll have no trouble getting Isa up to snuff on her dancing. Isadora tries to keep up, finding ways to get a word in and contribute which Maya eagerly builds upon.

Once they take a second to breathe, Maya states that she’s glad they decided to be partners. There’s an electricity in the air… perhaps a duet is coming on…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Popular” as performed by Wicked Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. Isadora De La Cruz)

The rendition of the Broadway classic picks up right from the start, Maya declaring that Isadora is going to be her new “project.” As the number unfolds, both girls dance around the apartment, don some of Maya’s fancier knock-off clothes, totally fall into the theatrics of the number.

Just as Maya is giving the declarative “Look at you, you’re beautiful” line, it’s not a fear of the new friendship but a text message that disrupts the number. Isadora checks her phone, reading whatever text she just received and growing panicked. She hastily exclaims she has to go, Maya calling a playful “you’re welcome” after her.

Maya finishes out the song on her own, at as full Galinda power as ever.

EXT. AAA - DAY

Isadora is rushing back up the steps to school, cursing out a “shit” with every step she takes. The sounds of heavy equipment being moved float in...

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

While the performers have vacated the premises the auditorium is buzzing with activity, all of the techies present for their annual technical inventory. Students from every grade are in attendance, the freshmen learning the ropes from the upperclassmen of what goes into one of their most important days of the year.

Lucas is overseeing the inventorying of the items in the construction racks, DAVE WILLIAMS digging through the wood and two-by-fours to shout to him how many pieces they currently have. Lucas makes him count again, reminding him they need an accurate take on all of their materials before Shawn goes and places the order for the year before the first production.

Isadora clambers in and pushes through the underclassmen, searching for Lucas. He rolls his eyes when she spots him, not waiting up for her as he continues his march around with the clipboard she was supposed to be carrying.

Lucas: Look who decided to show up.

Isadora: I’m so sorry. I totally spaced.

Lucas: No kidding. I mean, if you have better things to do --

Isadora: I’m here, aren’t I? What can I do to help? Give me something to do.

Lucas exhales a sigh, shrugging and stating that she can do a walkabout and see who might need help. He feels like they’ve got it covered, though, so maybe she should just go.

Isadora swallows the sting over the dismissal and pushes past it, grasping for a new conversation to ease the tension. She asks him what ended up happening with his assignment, who did he get partnered with? Lucas scowls.

Lucas: I don’t want to talk about it.

INT. MINKUS HOME - DAY

Farkle is seated on the couch in the living room, helping EZRA MINKUS with his homework. Ezra is working hard, but Farkle is zoned out. When his little brother complains about his half-hearted state, he snaps out of it but argues against the fact that he’s acting any sort of way. Regardless, it’s evident that Ezra greatly values the attention of his favorite brother.

JENNIFER MINKUS comes into the living room, jokingly commenting that it’s such a surprise to see Farkle out of his bedroom. He’s been acting too much like Uri as of late. She asks if it’s nice to be back at school and in routine, also seeing how he’s feeling. She touches his forehead to check his temperature.

Farkle shrugs away from the touch, brushing off the topic and instead focusing on school. He complains about the current assignment they’re doing.

Jennifer: Who are you working with, then? Maya?

Farkle: [ with a snort ] I wish. I mean, she wishes. No, I’m stuck with Lucas.

Jennifer: Lucas? Is that the shifty-looking one who used to chase you around during class and threaten you with power tools?

Farkle: Only in theory. But yes.

Jennifer: … well, I suppose it’s nice you’ve become… friends, then.

Farkle looks disgusted at the notion. He goes back to focusing on Ezra’s homework page.

Farkle: Believe me, we are not friends.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

To that end, Jack is meeting with Lucas to discuss his feelings over being partnered with Farkle. He also takes the opportunity to lightly broach the topic of his absence earlier during the first week and his overall… headspace coming off of how last year ended.

Although it’s the first we’ve seen of Lucas being back in Jack’s office this season, the atmosphere between them is comfortable. Lucas looks perfectly at home in the chair across from Jack’s desk. The friction from the start of last year is long gone, instead building on the familiarity and rapport the two of them started to build during the spring.

Still, that doesn’t mean Lucas is an easy conversationalist. He’s surprisingly aloof about the duet assignment, but it’s a clear projection that Jack can see right through. For all the effort Jack puts into trying to have an honest dialogue, he doesn’t get very far, but it’s clear that he’s taking this unique position he has with a student like Lucas more seriously than before.

Jack: I’m only trying to see where your head’s at.

Lucas: Sure you wanna go down that rabbit hole? [ Cheekily. ] Scary place.

Jack, deadpan: Yes, I’m quaking. [ a beat ] I just want you recognize that I’m listening. There’s a place for you to express your opinions.

Lucas blinks at him, the conversation taking on a more meaningful slant. For a moment, it seems as though he might actually say something of value.

Lucas: … I gotta go.

He doesn’t wait for approval, slipping out the door and back into the crowd transitioning between classes. Jack sighs, sauntering out after him.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

As Jack emerges from the front office, he takes a second to look around him. The students running from place to place, the school day continuing on in spite of everything that has unfolded in these halls. He looks at it all with a mixture of pride and exhaustion -- for all the things they’ve built in these walls, there’s so much work to be done.

Something has to make the struggle worth it. Something has to give the job meaning…

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “A Sentimental Man” as performed by Wicked Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Jack Hunter

The song conveys just that, highlighting Jack’s attachment to the school and the students as he wanders the halls. He feels responsible for all of the students in their care, and wants to help them reach their greatest potential with any opportunities they can offer them.

Where the lyrics shift focus to Elphaba, Jack’s focus shifts to Lucas. He watches from afar as Lucas closes his locker and disappears into the crowd, expressing his dedication to making sure he’s taking advantage of all he’s capable of just like everyone else (“Cause I think everyone deserves the chance to fly…”)

Case in point, Jack takes his role at AAA quite seriously, and he intends to zero in on one of their most troubled students. For whatever reason he’s been granted a shred of respect and trust where others have not, and he’s not going to waste it.

As the orchestration peters out, he leisurely makes his way back to the office.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay and Charlie are rehearsing together in their usual studio, having put in a good morning workout. Charlie is in the process of stretching while Zay texts with Riley about their assignment, the former teasing him about he doesn’t take his cool down routine nearly serious enough. One day, it’s really going to come back to bite him.

Zay: It’s fine, I know my own body. I’ve got bionic muscles.

Charlie: That can’t be true.

Zay: It’s… it’s a joke. Like bionic… God, you are hopeless.

Charlie changes tracks, noting his frustration about how things are between him and Riley. He feels like there’s a wall up between them ever since the AAAC, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. As Zay comes and takes his hands to help pull him to his feet, Charlie questions if he’d be willing to keep an ear out since they’re working together this week.

Zay: I mean, I’m not going to be your spy or anything, but if it comes up I’ll see what I can figure out.

At this point, Charlie will take anything. He gives him an appreciative nod.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Farkle is at his locker, reading through a text exchange with Lucas (listed simply in his contacts as Jackass.) Given the simple “no” that he sent in response to Farkle’s last message regarding their assignment, it seems like they won’t be doing much work on it at all.

All things considered, Farkle doesn’t seem bothered. He’s resigned as he unloads his books and grabs his rehearsal duffle, surprised when Eric calls to him from down the hall. He asks if he has a moment for a quick chat. From the expression on his face, that seems like the last thing Farkle wants to do, but he obliges.

INT. AAA - ERIC’S OFFICE - DAY

It’s clear that Farkle is not at all relaxed in Eric’s usually comforting space. He avoids eye contact as Eric starts a conversation with him, asking how he’s feeling about the new year given everything that unfolded at the end of last semester. They haven’t exactly had the chance to unpack all of that.

Farkle shrugs it off, jittery as he sits under Eric’s psychological microscope. When the focus shifts to his sudden partnership with Lucas, Farkle seizes the opportunity to seem affable and claims that he’ll put in a more pointed effort to get that duet up and running. If it will get the well-meaning counselor off his back, he’ll do just about anything.

Eric starts to double back to everything that remains turned upside from last year, but the bell ringing for class gives Farkle the excuse to bolt. He requests a late pass, already gearing up to get the hell out of there.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Charlie, YINDRA AMINO, and Zay are talking on stage when Riley wanders over to join them, intending to discuss the project with Zay. There’s an awkward beat as she acknowledges Charlie, but avoids looking at him any further through the duration of the conversation.

However, the universe has other plans. In the midst of discussing their song choice, Dylan flutters over and starts to drag Zay away, reminding him that he agreed to help him and Asher with the staging of their assignment. Yindra also gets distracted, NIGEL CHEY pulling her into a different discussion. Suddenly, it’s just Riley and Charlie, stuck in conversation after not speaking to one another for months.

Charlie speaks first, trying to find a clever way to break the ice. It doesn’t work, so he instead switches into apologizing about everything with the AAAC.

Charlie: Look, I’m sorry about the Instagram. I shouldn’t have done what I did. Everything just blew up so fast, and --

Riley: Charlie, please, stop. I get what you’re trying to do, trust me. I’ve been attempting to smooth things over because of that stupid page basically since summer. But I’m not… I’m not ready to deal with this yet. With you.

Charlie is evidently disappointed. He wants to fix it, but he doesn’t know how. Especially given that he can’t give her a good reason for why it happened.

Riley: I can’t even figure out why you would -- I’m just not there yet. To forgive you, let alone forget. I’m sorry.

Either way, he can take a hint. He nods and backs off, Zay returning just in time to get a full dose of the strain. He tries to say something to ease the tension, but Riley simply tells him they’ll catch up later and excuses herself.

In the house, Farkle is straggling after Lucas and attempting to negotiate with him as they walk through the aisles towards the booth. Although he isn’t keen to do the assignment either, he thinks they need to do something just to get everyone off their backs.

Lucas: Look, pick whatever stupid loud song you wanna do, and I’ll put the spotlight on you and we’ll call it a day. There. Assignment finished.

Solid plan, but Farkle still isn’t convinced. Although he’s stuck with his least favorite person, he’s dying to have an actual conversation with someone rather than continuing to stay isolated. It’s a paradoxical dilemma, and he ends up suggesting they still meet to go over logistics anyway.

Lucas does his equivalent of a feral cat growl, but agrees. He can set the place to meet and he’ll give him fifteen minutes of his time.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Zay and Riley are leaving the auditorium together, deciding where they’ll meet for their after school rehearsal. For once it seems as though Riley has his full attention… until Maya swoops in, asking for help with her and Isadora’s choreography. She pulls him away, Riley somehow alone in the hall again.

She hesitates, looking around her and not knowing where to go. She spots CLARISSA CRUZ, HALEY FISHER, and Darby together chatting and starts in that direction, but they disperse before she can get close enough to join them. It’s a no go on the techies, seated on the steps outside the side entrance to the auditorium. It’s a no on Farkle, standing at his locker alone.

It’s a no on Lucas, although Riley clearly wishes it wasn’t. She watches from afar as he shuts his locker and takes off in the opposite direction, not even casting a backwards glance in her direction. With a sigh, she wanders over to her locker.

Inside the door, it’s practically a relic of the way things used to be. There are pictures from the past year much like Farkle’s locker, only the way Riley’s are arranged demonstrate the care and love she puts into maintaining them. It’s evidence of a different time, when she felt like she knew who she was and who her friends were.

She hesitates on a photo of her, Lucas, and Isadora, then drifts to one set up right below it. It’s solely of Lucas, taken sometime around last year’s duet assignment when they were spending a lot of time together alone. Feels like a million years ago.

Riley glances to her phone, finding the message thread between the two of them. The last messages were sent months ago -- early in the summer, apologies from Riley and a plead to talk about things that went unanswered.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Talk To Me” as performed by Bye Bye Birdie! Original Broadway Cast || Performed by Riley Matthews (feat. Asher Garcia, Nigel Chey, Charlie Gardner, and Nick Yogi)

As Riley closes her locker, she leans back against the metal and launches into the melancholy Broadway tune. It concisely captures her frustration with the situation at hand -- hoping that Lucas can’t just be completely over her, knowing that if they just had the chance to talk things through things might be different.

This is accented by different cuts to Riley watching him from afar and wondering the same things; in class, in the auditorium, separated by the courtyard windows during lunch. It’s similar to her former 50s crooner in 1.07, although the circumstances are more fraught than the simplicity of back then.

The barbershop quartet comes in the form of Asher, Nigel, Charlie, and Yogi, who saunter into the hall behind her and provide the vocal backing for her musical plea. They’re dressed in matching color-coordinated vests, obviously not an actual presence in the scene but more so a figment of Riley’s imagination.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

They also serve the purpose of dancing with Riley, intercut through the other sequences. It’s all reminiscent of the dancing she used to do with Lucas -- up to the grand swell about 2 minutes in where her imagination fills in that gap. For a brief reprieve, it is Lucas dancing with her…

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Until reality disrupts the dream. Riley nearly rams into Lucas in the hallway, him catching her from stumbling on instinct. There’s a moment where they lock eyes, all of the potential in the world between them…

Then Lucas walks away. He slides past her, leaving her standing there.

The quartet takes over the last vocals as Riley ends up back where she started, alone in the hallway with nowhere to go. She’s stranded herself, and the only person she truly wants to talk to is the one already walking away.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “God Is A Woman” as performed by Ariana Grande || Instrumental

Ariana is playing through Isadora’s bluetooth speaker, banged up and cheap but gets the job done. She and Maya are walking through steps for a potential routine to the pop hit, the latter speeding through it and enthusiastically discussing how certain elements will work in the final performance.

Farkle enters through the dressing room doors just as they’re running through steps for the chorus. He hangs back in the shadows and watches from the wings, witnessing his own replacement happening in real time.

Isadora is doing her best to keep up. Interestingly enough, she’s starting to look a little bit more like Maya -- her hair has been styled with more care than usual, and the color palette of her outfit is lighter, complementing the pink and white that Maya wears. Her lips have a bit of a shine to them, the most neutral lip gloss Isa could find amongst Catherina’s extensive makeup collection.

But she’s nowhere near at the same rehearsal level as the reigning diva yet, so she gives up about halfway through and claims she can’t do this. Maya jogs and pauses the music.

The two of them debrief, Maya offering to walk Isadora through whatever steps she might be having trouble with. But it’s not the routine itself, it’s everything. It’s just a lot to adjust to at once, so she just needs some time to get used to it. She’ll keep practicing, but it isn’t clicking right now. Maya grants her the right to take a break, Isadora heading out through the other doors by the costume loft.

Farkle waits until Maya is alone to make himself known, stepping into the stage lights and making snarky commentary on how her new pet project doesn’t seem to be going so smoothly. She brushes him off and continues to gather her things.

But he doesn’t want the conversation to end. This is the most attention she’s paid him in weeks, and he doesn’t want to let it go. So he keeps it going the only way he can think of by digging the knife in further, insinuating that she must’ve had to stoop low if she had to go through the techies to try and find someone to replace him.

Maya turns on him, giving him her full attention as she tells him off. Despite what he might believe, she’s not using Isadora, and certainly not to fill some void he thinks he left. He shouldn’t flatter himself that much importance.

Maya: Izzy isn't just some “project” for me. Believe it or not, I don't compartmentalize my friendships by how they most benefit me.

The tension takes on a familiar slant, a competitive edge emerging that needs to be expressed through music. Clarissa and Haley enter together with their cellos just as Farkle and Maya are staring each other down, claiming that they booked the auditorium for this time slot. So what are they doing there? And aren’t they not partners this week?

Maya states they’re just in time, as they can help wrap this all up. When Haley is like “but we came to rehearse our thing,” Maya doesn’t seem bothered.

Maya: Consider it a warm-up… if you can keep up.

Clarissa and Haley roll their eyes, but they settle in anyway. The faster they can let them get out their antics, the faster they can actually rehearse.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Smooth Criminal” as performed by Glee Cast || Performed by Farkle Minkus & Maya Hart (feat. Clarissa Cruz & Haley Fisher)

Clarissa and Haley carry the heft of this number on their cellos, Maya and Farkle parading around them and channeling all their frustration with one another into the vocals. It’s an electric duet, and for what it’s worth, it’s the most energized Farkle has seemed since the school year started. There’s actual passion behind the performance, which he’s been lacking for some time.

It’s also undeniable that the two of them make excellent partners. They’re perfectly matched, as they have been since they met. There’s no one else who challenges them like the other to raise the bar, and there’s an appreciation of the other’s talent present despite how at odds they are.

But one quick duet isn’t going to set things right. Although Farkle seems to have gotten something meaningful out of the exchange, he’s obviously surprised when Maya continues to dismiss him as soon as they’re wrapped. She gathers her things and floats out with no more than a short goodbye.

Farkle swallows, not taking the rejection well. Clarissa and Haley break him out of it, asking if he can leave already so they can rehearse. Haven’t they done enough?

Backing off, he makes a dash for the dressing rooms.

INT. AAA - BOYS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Given his shaken state, Farkle seems to be taking this harder than just a duet gone sour. He stumbles into the dressing room, leaning against the counter and trying to calm his breathing. His hands are shaking.

He lifts his gaze, looking at himself in the mirror. It doesn’t seem like he likes what he sees. He curses under his breath, suddenly feeling like it’s a thousand degrees. He pulls off his sweater, leaving him in his plain tee as he crumbles into a sitting position against the mirror and haphazardly bundling the garment in his hands.

Above him, the wall clock ticks to a new minute --

INT. AAA - PRACTICE ROOM - DAY

Just as the clock in the practice room does, where Lucas is sitting alone. He glances around him with mild interest and obvious distrust, having never been in this part of the school before. He taps his feet impatiently, checking his watch.

Clearly, Farkle isn’t coming. Rolling his eyes, Lucas gets to his feet. He takes some of the writing utensils from the communal stash just because he can, kicking at the piano bench for good measure before marching out.

INT. GARDNER HOME - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Charlie is seated on the couch with his homework, half paying attention while ROSIE GARDNER and DAISY GARDNER watch a show together. Daisy is playing with their beagle SKIPPY on the floor in front of the couch, making a face at something that plays out on screen.

Daisy: Why the heck did that happen? That doesn’t make any sense.

Rosie: It’s network TV, it doesn’t have to make sense.

To Rosie’s curiosity, Charlie doesn’t seem all that interested in the show. He’s focused on his phone instead, rereading his last text from Zay. He’s asking if he’s alright after the weird exchange he and Riley must’ve had, given how off things felt when he walked back over.

He wants to talk to him about it, but he’s not just going to give him a call while hanging out with his sisters. Especially not when they’re so nosy.

Rosie: Who are you texting?

Charlie: Huh? What? No one.

Rosie: Yeah you are. Your messages are open.

Charlie: Am I typing? No.

Daisy: Why are you acting surprised? He’s always on his phone.

Charlie: No I am not.

Rosie: Yeah you are. You basically live on it. It’s like you’re in love with it.

Daisy: [ laughing ] Charlie has a girlfriend.

Charlie: Shut up, no I don’t.

Daisy: Yeah you do. The phone.

Rosie: I don’t know where, but I’m positive there has to be something in the Bible about how love between man and technology is unholy.

Charlie: I bet if you look hard enough, you’ll find the verse where it says you’re annoying.

Daisy: Being annoying isn’t a sin. I’ve checked.

Both Rosie and Charlie seem to want to know more about that, but ELEANOR GARDNER entering interrupts the conversation. She explains what she’s planning on making for dinner, and then offhandedly mentions that someone needs to walk Skippy.

A lightbulb goes off for Charlie. He loudly volunteers to do it, demonstrating a little too much enthusiasm for something like walking their family beagle. But aside from judgmental expressions from his sisters, the moment passes without question. Charlie whistles for Skippy to follow him, going to grab the leash.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Zay and Riley have convened for rehearsal, in the midst of walking through some harmonies together. It’s clear that Riley is enjoying the quality time. At least if everyone else seems to have inevitably lost interest in her, she still has her first friend.

After they decide on a certain chord progression, Zay subtly changes the subject and asks about what happened in class today. When he came back to work, things seemed pretty icy between her and Charlie. Riley doesn’t want to talk about it, but after a little bit of prodding she admits to the fact that it’s hard to warm up to him again. Not only because he so blatantly used her without any sort of signs, but more so because she has no clue why he did it. It would be easier to grapple with if she had a sense of closure around it, or a clear motive.

Zay obviously wants to grant her that, but he knows it’s not his place. He grows distracted anyway, getting a text from Charlie asking if he can meet him on his walk with Skippy. Zay jumps at the opportunity and tells Riley he has to go, promising they’ll pick this back up tomorrow. He’s booking it before she can argue against it, once again leaving her in the dust.

INT. CHUBBIE’S DINER - DAY

Maya saunters into the diner, nodding at some of the familiar busboys before hopping up to the counter to chat with KATY HART. Her mother senses her mood before she even opens her mouth, asking if something happened at school.

Maya goes on to lament the situation with Farkle as Katy slides a slice of pie across the counter towards her. She immediately digs in, accenting her frustration with stabs of her fork. She recounts the encounter with Farkle and derides his accusation that she’s simply replacing him with Isadora.

Katy: Well… do you feel like that’s what you’re doing?

Maya: No. No, I’m not. God forbid I like other people or make new friends. Maybe I like Isadora because she’s badass and talented and could also kill a man if she had to.

Katy: Ah, the true quality of a good friendship…

Maya: It’s not fair. It’s not fair of him to waltz in and act like I’m the one being shady when he’s the one who blew everything up in the first place. And then make it feel like a crime to move on. I shouldn’t have to feel bad about dropping someone who I don’t trust.

Katy is, of course, on Maya’s side. She agrees wholeheartedly, and even states that she likes that she’s branched outside of her usual circle. Isadora seems like a nice change of pace, and it’s always beneficial to make a friend who can teach you something rather than reflect the world you’re already familiar with.

On the other hand, she points out that there’s a whole side to this experience that Maya doesn’t know about. Neither of them have any idea what’s going on with Farkle, and it’s possible that his actions are less about her and more about his own attempts to grapple with the situation.

Katy: It’s impossible to know why people do the things they do until they tell you. And most of the time, it’s rarely a cut-and-dry reasoning anyway. There are so many different motivating factors at play, especially at your age.

Maya doesn’t seem convinced, stabbing at the pie and taking a grumpy bite. Katy finishes her musing, going on to state that nine times out of ten, people are acting out of their own insecurities rather than anything to do with the people who they’re confronting. Could be fear, could be jealousy, could be self-preservation…

EXT. NEW YORK STREETS - DAY

Charlie is walking along with Skippy, distracted as he waits for Zay to show up. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Zay sneaks up behind him, poking him in the ribs and surprising him. Charlie elbows him as he falls into step beside him, beginning to discuss what he wanted to talk about in the first place.

Zay gets right to the point, stating that he thinks Charlie should consider just… telling Riley the truth. It’s hard for her to hear him out when she has literally no clue why he even did it, and most of the reasons she’s probably contemplating make him look far worse than making her his unwitting beard for a sense of protection.

As logical as this reasoning is, Charlie does not seem ready to consider such a notion.

Charlie: What? No. I can’t do that.

Zay: Dare I ask, why not? I mean, not like why, I know why obviously.

Charlie: Yeah.

Zay: But like, Riley Matthews is the last person you should be concerned about knowing. She’s like the nicest human being alive, and also is part of the community. And I seriously doubt she’d ever say anything to anyone if you didn’t --

Charlie cuts him off, not able to wrap his head around it. He wants to make things right with her, but that kind of option is off the table. Zay seems a bit frustrated with this mindset, as it doesn’t bode well for their relationship if he’s still so deeply entrenched in keeping all of it a secret… but he also understands. Of course he does.

It’s a complicated situation, and there is no easy solution. So they’ll keep walking the tightrope, looking for compromises along the way…

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The techies are convened at their usual spot in the back section, chatting in the morning before class. Isadora comes to visit them, but she looks different. She’s suddenly looking a lot more like a Maya carbon copy, her makeup enhanced with a darker lip gloss and eye makeup. Her outfit is made up of borrowed clothes from Maya and Catherina -- a high-waisted denim skirt with sheer dark tights, and dark sweater with a collar peeking out, a sparkling butterfly brooch pinned to the right lapel.

Lucas descends from the booth, decidedly disturbed as soon as he sees her. He asks her what the hell happened to her, and she claims she’s just trying a new look. Stretching her sense of style.

Nate: More like getting swallowed by it.

Isadora isn’t sure how to defend herself. To be honest, it’s not the worst to be dressed confidently like Maya, but she’d be lying if she claimed it felt true to her. Lucas can’t even look at her, pushing past her and heading out.

Lucas: If you’ll excuse me, I have to go bash my head into the wall until I wake up from this nightmare. Let me know when you’ve stopped being possessed by mini-Christina.

Dave: Applegate? I thought she was great in Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel.

Asher: … I think he means Aguilera.

Dave: Oh.

Once Lucas is gone, Asher and Dylan assure Isadora that they think she looks fine. Jade agrees, even offering to help personalize it with some more Isa-like touches if that would be ideal. Isadora contemplates it, telling her she’ll get back to her on that.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Shawn comes by Harper’s classroom, sauntering in as he announces that it seems the Lucas and Farkle “simple solution” isn’t going so well. How does he know? Because Lucas just informed him that Farkle blew off their second attempt at a meeting.

Shawn: Still so sure about your brilliant little fix?

Harper is unimpressed by his condescending attitude, sticking to her guns. She rises to her feet, coming around her desk to speak plainly with him.

Harper: So you would rather bend to their poor behavior and reward them for it, rather than, I don’t know… teach them to get along? Or punish such bad antics?

Shawn, seriously: Listen. There’s a very delicate balance at play here with these students that you don’t understand. The least you could do is take the advice of those who know better than you.

To be fair, Shawn isn’t entirely wrong. But his delivery is terrible, and Harper grows offended at the insinuation. Before she can retort, Clarissa and Haley arrive to complain about how Maya and Farkle used their rehearsal space unfairly.

This is about the tenth time Harper has taken a specific complaint about Farkle Minkus. She starts to construct a solution for them to consider, but Shawn intervenes and offers his own two cents. Once again talking over her without giving her the chance to learn the ropes or contribute.

Haley and Clarissa thank Shawn, not caring about who gives them the advice. Shawn tosses Harper one more stressed look, warning her to think a little as he storms out.

Oh, boy, is she going to think a little. And more than that, she’s going to take action.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Harper has pulled both Lucas and Farkle aside after class is dismissed for lunch, informing them that they’ll both be spending the break in detention in her classroom. Given that neither of them have provided her updates about their project, she’s certain they could use the designated collaboration time. That way, perhaps, they’ll at least scrape together a passing grade.

Both of them seem less than enthused, glaring at each other.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Riley is heading towards the lunchroom, but looking through the doors at all her classmates milling about and continuing on with or without her, it suddenly feels like too much. She spins on her heel and heads in a different direction.

INT. AAA - CORY’S CLASSROOM - DAY

Riley pokes her head in, finding Cory opening lunch at his desk. He seems surprised but happy to see her, granting her an invitation to join him when she asks if she can come in. He playfully questions why she would bother to do such a thing, giving her the opportunity to unpack what’s going on.

She sort of expresses her current feelings of isolation, explaining the general idea of the problem at hand and how she feels kind of left behind. Some of her friendships aren’t in the shape they used to be, and she doesn’t have a sense of belonging anymore.

Cory, being the dreamer that he is, encourages her to keep putting her best foot forward. In his opinion, the best thing she can do is to keep her chin high and refuse to be ignored. Not let those friends go without a fight, if they’re truly friends she wants to keep.

It’s well-meant and thoughtful advice, but nothing he hasn’t told her before. Riley seems disillusioned as she starts to chew on her lunch.

INT. AAA - CAFETERIA - DAY

Maya and Isadora are eating lunch together, sharing a table with Zay, Nigel, and Yindra. They’re dissecting the problem of progressing on their duet, Isadora admitting that part of it is that this is the first true performance she has to give in front of the class. Let alone alongside someone as strong as Maya. She’s just not prepared for it.

It’s stage fright, plain and simple. Maya claims she just needs to stop overthinking it, that no one is going to be focused on anything but how awesome they are. An idea seems to strike her as she’s explaining how to accomplish just that… that all Isadora needs to do is break the initial performance anxiety. And, well...

Maya, deviously: No better time than the present.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Looking At Me” as performed by Sabrina Carpenter || Performed by Maya Hart (feat. AAA Juniors)

Pushing up from the table, Maya launches us into our first big blowout number of the season. She playfully begins the iconic pop anthem, pulling her classmates into the fun as she goes and relaying the message loud and clear -- Isadora has nothing to worry about, because everyone will be looking at her anyway.

The lyrics “Don’t just stand there staring, honey, try to move your feet,” are directed at her duet partner, tugging Isadora into the fray and giving her the encouragement to just lose herself in the number. The two of them dance together a fair amount throughout the jam session.

The other reason it’s such a major number is because it’s the first number that loosely incorporates everyone. It carries the same energy as “Dancin’ On the Sidewalk” from all those months ago, only there’s no Lucas around to set off the alarm. And maybe he should be, because the performance is definitely fire.

The dancing has kicked up ten notches. Maya has small moments with Zay and Charlie, who also serve to lead other groups. The two of them also dance a little with each other, although evidently less comfortably than we know they could. Maya spins Isadora to dance with other fellow performers, and while she stumbles a bit at first, the more she gets into it the more confident she becomes. She’s engaging with others, focusing less on what they’re thinking and just having fun.

And when Lucas is away, the techie tots will play. There are a couple key shots of Asher and Dylan dancing together, charming as ever but also showing off that they’re maybe... actually good performers? Dave and Nate are grooving on the table tops. Nigel pulls Jade into a spin, getting her to join the dance. Jeff does some signature break-dancing.

It’s energetic. It’s a showstopping vocal from Maya, who ends it on a split with a hair flip and wink. It’s fun more than anything else, which feels groundbreaking for a semester that has felt so heavy with unresolved tension.

Now we’ve truly kicked off the season.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

The fun is not being felt in the black box, where Lucas and Farkle are trapped for detention. They’re sitting in silence, Farkle keeping his head down and waiting for the torture to cease.

Lucas isn’t making it easy. His version of whittling time away involves tapping his pencil, restless and fidgety as they wait for their sentence to end. He’s like a one-man drum show. Farkle lifts his head in irritation, glaring at him even though Lucas hardly pays him any attention. It takes Farkle snapping to get him to stop, startling him enough to drop the pencil.

Farkle grumbles about how of course he had to get stuck with the worst human being at AAA. Lucas claims that’s rich coming from him, pointing out that it’s both of them that are stuck in here alone with one another.

Lucas, mockingly: Maybe, in some sick, twisted way, we’re not so different. That’s what they want us to learn, isn’t it?

Farkle: Don’t make me laugh. Like I would ever be compared to you. I’m not so immured by self-satisfaction and smugness that I can’t recognize how useless I am.

[ Lucas doesn’t seem irritated by this assessment. He smirks, nodding along as Farkle reads him for filth. ]

Farkle: I don’t try to bring everybody else down to my level by constantly tearing down their passions until all that’s left is my insatiable need to burn down every good thing that crosses my path just for the sake of chaos. Just to fucking feel something other than my own overwhelming mediocrity that’s going to keep me directionless and alone for the rest of my sorry existence.

Lucas: … maybe so. But I think I should point out that it’s both of us who were deemed too unbearable by the rest of our peers.

Farkle glowers at him until he can’t stomach his detached expression any longer, looking away and gritting his teeth. While they may hate one another, the fact of the matter is so does everyone else. So there they are, stuck in hell together and facing the consequences.

The silence is suffocating with the truth eating away all the oxygen in the room. When the bell rings it’s an immediate relief, Lucas jumping to his feet.

Lucas: Well, I think we can both agree this assignment is not fucking happening. Guess we’ll be taking the L.

Farkle: … maybe so.

Lucas nods, not wasting another second to get away from him. Farkle doesn’t move nearly as fast, still processing the reality Lucas forced him to confront.

INT. HARPER’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Harper is having dinner with her girlfriend, STELLA CASTILLO (27). She’s also a former alumni of AAA, and their dynamic somewhat seems to mirror Isadora and Maya in terms of personality. Stella is lively, opinionated, and not at all impressed by the behavior of Shawn and the students as Harper laments the treatment she’s been navigating.

Stella gives Harper the pep talk she’s been needing, reminding her that she’s perfectly qualified to be in this position. She needs to trust her gut.

Stella: Look, you know about Triple A, alright? You endured that school, you survived it, which is way more than John or whoever can say for himself.

Harper: Shawn.

Stella: Like it matters. The point is that you’re a badass, you’re in control, and you should not be bending to the criticism of some grumpy white dude who thinks he’s the authority on a job his older brother gave him when he was having his mid-life crisis.

True words, even if the nuances to the situation are a bit more complex. Harper thanks her, taking her hand and allowing her to lean forward and give her a kiss.

Still, the universe seems to disagree…

Jack, pre-lap: This has nothing to do with your ability.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Jack is meeting with Harper before school. From the expression on his face it’s evident he’s apologetic, whereas she simply seems peeved. She’s squinting at him, attempting to keep up with their conversation.

Jack: Believe me, I hired you for a reason. You know I think you’re more than capable of handling this job. But Shawn is correct in that this crop of students… they’re a unique group, like I’ve said. He might be right in that it could help for you to pay attention to --

Harper: So, what? Your baby brother decided to come crying to you about things not going his way, rather than discussing it with me like an adult?

Jack assures her that he’s not on anybody’s side, and he just wants to find a way for them to work effectively together and in a way that best benefits the students. But Harper is so angry at that point she sort of tunes him out, simply smiling and nodding along.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Can Do Better” as performed by LOVA || Performed by Harper Burgess

As Harper emerges from the office, the opening whistles ease us into this sassy “fuck you” of a feminist anthem. As she marches through the halls in her leather-clad, badass fury, there is a certain power to her finally expressing all of her resentment towards the men who have been giving her grief since she stepped into the position (even in spite of all the complexities to each situation).

The AAA girls back her in passing, echoing the empowering sentiments. It’s a simple arrangement, but Harper’s delivery alone packs a real punch.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Isadora is in the dressing room when Riley arrives that morning, the two of them hesitating when they see one another. It’s been a hot minute since they’ve actually had direct contact, and although both of them don’t seem unhappy to see the other, they have no idea where they stand.

Riley makes a small joke about her new look, admitting that she actually thought she was Maya for a second. Although the comment is harmless, after enduring similar commentary all week long Isadora finds herself snapping at her. She’s sick of everyone making those judgements and throwing their opinions at her.

Riley is quick to apologize, explaining that she didn’t mean anything by it. Awkward silence settles between them again, but it’s clear that Isadora feels bad about the way things are.

Isadora: I… I don’t know how to handle this situation.

Riley: I know.

Isadora: With you, and with Lucas --

She cuts herself off, not even sure she should bring him up around her. Riley nods along, already knowing where this conversation is heading. Another dismissal. Before Isadora can say anything more, she beats her to it.

Riley: I just… I know how easy it is to get caught up in being someone else because you think it’ll make things easier. It’s easier to be someone else, sometimes… but I gotta tell you, the Dora I knew? [ a beat ] She’s already tough to beat.

Riley offers one more tight smile, finishing dropping her things. She leaves Isadora alone, hanging on that moment of kindness in spite of the strain.

INT. AAA - BLACK BOX THEATER - DAY

Harper marches into her classroom, still steaming. Farkle is there, waiting for her to inform her that he and Lucas weren’t able to reach an agreement. He doesn’t think he’ll be turning in anything this week after all.

Whereas this behavior might’ve flown with Angela, it’s not going to fly with Harper. Especially not now, when it feels like the entire world is against her. So Farkle inevitably ends up on the other end of all her anger, receiving a true verbal lashing.

Harper: Oh, is that so? You just don’t think it’ll happen? That all?

Farkle: I’m just saying, given the circumstances you forced me into --

Harper: No, no, I won’t be taking your blame, Mister Minkus. I don’t know what kind of treatment you’re used to from Miss Moore, but I’m not here to cater to your petulance. I’m here to teach you, which you might have known had you deemed it worthy to show up on the first day.

Farkle, stunned: I… I was sick --

Harper: Well, here’s your quick make-up lesson. There will be no more doing whatever you damn well please. I knew students just like you when I was enrolled here, Mister Minkus. You’re nothing new. And believe it or not, that horrible attitude of yours isn’t going to get a pass anymore.

[ Farkle is speechless. He looks a little sick as Harper concludes her tirade. ]

Harper: This isn’t last year. I’m not Miss Moore. And whether we like it or not, you better get ready for a whole lot of change.

Harper storms out, on her way to the auditorium. Farkle is shell-shocked, standing there in horror… until he suddenly bolts out of the door.

INT. AAA - BOYS BATHROOM - DAY

Farkle ducks into a stall just in time to vomit, whole body shaking as he collapses back against the wall. Only he’s not alone, which he discovers after the initial panic passes through him.

Charlie: … Farkle?

Farkle closes his eyes, cursing lightly to himself. When he pushes to his feet and emerges from the stall, Charlie is there at the sink and watching him warily. He tries to question if he’s okay, but Farkle ignores him and focuses on rinsing out his mouth at the adjacent sink.

Charlie can tell there’s something more going on than just an upset stomach. He’s familiar with the feeling, after all. He tries to find a way into the conversation, searching for a commonality to utilize as a bond.

Charlie: I get that this year isn’t turning out like we probably thought. [ sardonically ] I guess the confessions page didn’t do either of us any favors, huh?

Farkle is unimpressed by his attempt at bonding. In fact, the comparison sort of seems to piss him off. He turns on him, narrowing his eyes.

Farkle: Actually, I don’t think it’s quite the same. Because I didn’t feel so insecure in my own masculinity that I had to submit fake relationship posts about myself just to feel good, or maybe feel like I’m not just a background character in my own life.

Yikes. That’s a deep cut, and Charlie gets the message to back off. Farkle wipes his mouth with a paper towel and takes a deep breath, defaulting to defensive because it’s increasingly becoming all he knows how to be.

Farkle: So, no. I don’t think you have any idea.

Farkle flurries out. Although it’s clear his words stung, concern still lingers in Charlie’s features. Like he can sense something about the situation isn’t quite right.

INT. MATTHEWS APARTMENT - NIGHT

In a rare moment, Riley manages to catch TOPANGA LAWRENCE when she’s at home. She’s just finishing up a business call, pleasantly greeting Riley as she comes to join her at the kitchen table. Riley isn’t sure what she’s searching for as she starts the conversation -- advice, or maybe to simply be acknowledged by someone -- but she ends up asking for more time with her.

Riley: I know you’ve been doing a lot of small things with Auggie, and everything, so I was thinking that… I don’t know, maybe you and I could also --

Topanga: Oh, yes. Yes! Riley, I would love to do something. Some mother-daughter quality time would be spectacular.

Riley lights up, obviously happy about her mother’s enthusiasm. They begin attempting to sort out dates, although that quickly throws a wrench into things before they even get off the ground. Where Topanga is free this weekend, rehearsals for the musical are kicking up. When Riley is free, Topanga is balancing major trial meetings.

Topanga: Okay, I love this idea. But can we come back to this? Put a pin in it? I’ve just got a lot of stuff up in the air right now, I’ll be able to give it more focus after this deposition is wrapped and our divorce is fully finalized…

Riley internalizes her disappointment, giving her a smile and assuring her it’s no problem. Topanga reaches across the table and pats her arm, effectively ending the conversation.

INT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Charlie is on the phone with Zay, pacing his room as they talk. It’s clear that seeing Farkle so wigged out earlier really got to him, so he’s confronting some of his stressors head on.

Charlie: I just wanted you to know how sorry I am about how… weird all this has been. With my stupid thing. I know it’s been impacting… what we have.

Zay: It’s not stupid. You know I get it.

Charlie: Yeah, I know, but… [ with a sigh ] things were so much easier when school wasn’t a factor. I know I’ve been coming off like how you feel about this isn’t important, and that’s not true. I don’t feel that way. I wish it didn’t feel that way.

Zay continues to assure him that it’s fine, but his responses sound admittedly a little distracted. Charlie continues to pace, coming to lean against the door to his balcony.

Charlie: I just wish… in an ideal world, things would be different. We could just… be what we are, and we could be doing a duet together this week. Couldn’t it be that easy?

Zay: Well, don’t count that out just yet.

Charlie frowns, asking what he’s talking about. Zay tells him to come outside.

EXT. GARDNER HOME - CHARLIE’S BALCONY - NIGHT

Charlie steps out onto his balcony, stunned to see Zay jogging down the street. He’s both happy and horrified to see him, immediately shushing him as he greets him from down below.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “Tonight” as performed by West Side Story Original Cast || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Charlie Gardner

In homage to the sequence in the Broadway classic, Charlie and Zay exchange an effortless back and forth reminiscent of the original film as the orchestra underscores them.

Zay: Come down.

Charlie: No. Are you crazy?

Zay: Just for a minute.

Charlie: [ gazing at him ] … a minute is nowhere near long enough.

Zay: For an hour, then.

Charlie: I can’t.

Zay, with humor: Then forever!

Charlie shushes him again, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his door is closed. Zay tells him he’s coming up, climbing his way along the side of the house to join him on his balcony. When he manages to clamber over the side Charlie immediately pulls him away from the edge, speaking in a hushed tone and claiming that he has to go. His parents will hear him, or see them. As he tries to argue the point Charlie shushes him again, Zay returning the gesture playfully.

It’s all fun and games until Eleanor knocks at the door, Charlie covering Zay’s mouth and responding to her questions of if he’s heading to bed. He lies and claims he is, Eleanor not questioning it and giving him a warm “goodnight, Chuckles,” through the door.

The two of them hang in silence for a long moment, Charlie grimacing as he realizes Zay just heard his embarrassing family nickname. He curses and pulls away from him, walking to the other end of the balcony as Zay clearly attempts to hold back a smile.

Zay: … Chuckles?

Charlie, embarrassed: Family nickname.

[ Zay laughs, but it’s endeared. He steps closer to him, earnest. ]

Zay: I like it. And you know, I think they’d like me.

Charlie: [ with a shake of his head ] No. They’re like I used to be. You know… scared.

There’s a beat of heaviness between them. Then Charlie exhales a laugh, shaking his head again and walking away from him as he absorbs the ridiculousness of the situation.

Charlie: Can you imagine? Being scared of Isaiah Babineaux?

Zay: [ laughing along ] See?

[ There’s a beat. Charlie looks at him, expression soft. ]

Charlie: I see you.

Zay, softer: … see only me.

Zay kicks off the song, taking Maria’s verses where Charlie takes Tony’s (specifically “There’s nothing for me but Isaiah / Every sight that I see is Isaiah”). The two of them harmonize together in the small confines of the balcony, dancing and spinning together where possible.

Where it was pretty obvious earlier that they were into one another, this is the moment where their chemistry and affection for another is impossible to deny. There’s something deeper than just attraction between them, growing more resolute with every day and every duet they share.

As it slows down before the second verse, Zay and Charlie have drifted awfully close together for being feet away from the rest of the Gardner household. Charlie manages to pull back from him simply to continue the dance, but as they wrap the first section of the song they end up inevitably back inches apart again.

Still, even the allure of Zay Babineaux isn’t yet powerful enough to make Charlie forget the way things are. He resists the urge to go for a kiss and instead claims he can’t stay, insisting that Zay should get going. Although he protests, Charlie’s soft “please” and bittersweet smile are convincing enough to make him oblige.

As Zay starts climbing down again, he hesitates. Thinking there’s one more thing he needs to say, lest he regret not vocalizing it in the moment.

Zay: You know, at the risk of sounding totally kitsch… [ turning around, locking eyes with him again ] You know you’re my favorite duet, right?

Charlie is clearly touched. A bashful smile crosses his features, and he manages a nod and a soft “yeah” of agreement. Zay returns the nod, giving him a fond smirk and lingering look before finishing the rest of the climb down the side of the house.

As he goes, Charlie leans forward against the balcony and watches him go. He hesitates before calling after Zay, double-checking that they’ll still meet up before school tomorrow. Zay agrees, starting to head down the street… until Charlie stops him again. He asks if they can ditch lunch and pay a visit to the costume loft instead. Zay rolls his eyes, but he’s obviously not opposed to the idea. He agrees, only making it a couple of steps before Charlie stops him one more time.

Charlie: Do you have a family nickname?

[ Zay pauses, debating whether or not to share it. Then he sighs, looking over his shoulder to deliver it. ]

Zay, reluctantly: “Dizzy.”

[ Charlie can’t help but laugh, but he’s appreciative of his willingness to share. His grin is fond as he gazes down at him. ]

Charlie: See you tomorrow, Dizzy.

Zay: [ unable to hold back a smile ] See you, Chuckles.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment longer, easing into the last soft verse of “Tonight.” Then Zay jogs back down the street, disappearing as swiftly as he appeared.

Charlie watches him go, undoubtedly enamored. He’s still smiling as he steps back into his room, shutting the door to the balcony behind him.

INT. MINKUS HOME - FARKLE’S ROOM - NIGHT

Farkle is doing homework in his room, a half-eaten plate of food sitting forgotten on the bed in front of him. Jennifer pokes her head in, lightly knocking and trying to engage him in conversation. She notes that he didn’t eat much, which he brushes off by stating he felt nauseous at school so he’s just taking it easy.

Jennifer comes in to check his forehead and lymph nodes again, wondering when this relentless bug he has is going to let him live. Farkle shrugs away from her, insisting that he’s fine. He’d be better, in fact, if she could let him rest.

She relents, but pauses as a thought hits her on the way out. It’s unclear whether this is a brand new thought, or perhaps one she’s been ruminating on for a while.

Jennifer: You know, when do you think you’ll have Maya over again?

Farkle: I don’t know.

Jennifer: I’ve only been thinking, it might be good to have some of that vibrant theater energy around here again. Don’t you think? Maybe you should extend the invitation.

Farkle, tightly: I’ll do that.

Given how poorly their last interaction went, we know it’s a lie.

INT. AAA - DANCE STUDIO - DAY

Riley shows up to the dance studio early the next morning to rehearse, Zay already there when she arrives. She makes a joke about how she’s surprised he beat her here, but he states that was sort of the point. He also has something for her -- her favorite coffee order, as well as a scone from Svorski’s he’s deemed the “apology scone.”

Riley: Well I’m not going to say no to that. “Apology scone?”

Zay: Suffice to say, I’ve sort of been all over the place this week. There’s just… a lot going on. But a conversation with someone close to me recently made me realize that it’s important to let people know how much you mean to them.

He goes on to state that while she was the one with her head in the clouds last year, now it’s on him. He fully intended to be there for her this week and he dropped the ball, but no longer. And they’re always going to be in each other’s corners, a shoulder to lean on if they need it, which is a far cry from how many of the other dynamics in their class are doing at present.

Then, of course, they’ve still got a duet to perform. Zay takes the coffee and scone and puts it back on the piano tucked into the corner. He spins back to face her and holds out a hand.

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “I Like Me Better” as performed by Landon Austin || Performed by Zay Babineaux & Riley Matthews

Riley takes his hand, and Zay leads the vocals on this comfortable, endearing acoustic duet. The two of them pass around the verses as they playfully dance together in the studio, demonstrating the iron strength of their friendship.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

The rehearsing is intercut with their final performance in class, Riley playing the guitar and harmonizing while Zay does most of the singing. It’s a stripped down rendition, no flash or glitz. But their voices blend well together, and it’s a nice change of pace.

As they wrap the number, Zay reaches out and takes her hand while the class gives them a round of applause. Back in the dance studio, Riley laughs and the two of them embrace.

A nice bright spot in the midst of so much uncertainty.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Harper stops by Jack’s office, finding the principal in the midst of picking through some particularly confusing correspondence. She questions what he’s puzzled over.

Jack: Oh, nothing, nothing… there’s some interested parties attempting to enroll despite our strict enrollment procedures. It’s fine, there’s always a few of these at the start of the school year.

He asks what he can do for her, to which she explains what happened with Lucas and Farkle and how they refused to do the assignment. She’s decided she’ll be punishing them both, as is in within her right as their teacher. Given the behavior she’s observed from both of them, she thinks they could use the discipline.

Jack seems supportive of the authoritarian stance, but he requests that she let him handle Lucas. Whatever she feels Farkle might need she should do within reason, but he’ll take care of their waspish technician. Harper is confused by the distinction, but is more than willing to let him take on the troublemaker so she doesn’t have to.

As Harper heads out, Jack takes another look at the paperwork about enrollment requests. He shakes his head, putting it dismissively to the side.

INT. AAA - GIRLS DRESSING ROOM - DAY

Isadora pokes her head in, relieved to find Maya getting ready and touching up her makeup before their class performance. Maya greets her cheerfully, only some of her confidence falters when she sees Isadora’s change of appearance.

She’s back to looking more like herself, basically back to her usual attire. However, touches of Maya’s influence still remain, such as a simple necklace that Maya had given to her as part of her makeover, her hair up in a pastel scrunchie, and colorful socks on display that have a pretty pattern on them.

Based on that change alone, Maya has a feeling that this conversation isn’t going to go well. She jokes that she’s somehow inevitably strangled another friendship in her own image, but Isadora refutes this.

Isadora: I’m glad you asked me to be partners. And I’m honestly grateful for your friendship, in some ways I kind of feel like it was something I didn’t know I needed. I think I’m going to learn a lot from you.

Maya: Go on, let me down gently. But…?

Isadora: But… I don’t want to completely become someone else to do it. And part of that is on me -- I think I become so focused on what the other person expects that I forget they should be liking me for me. So I sort of let things spiral out of control.

Maya: Doesn’t help when the other person is a diva control freak.

Isadora: [ with a shake of her head ] That’s called passion, and it’s not a bad thing. I’m just… trying to find the balance.

This, Maya can understand. Given how she is reevaluating her own image too now that she’s no longer pretending to be Prada, she gets that feeling more than ever. Isadora does comment that she does like some of Maya’s clothes, and might do a little personalizing of her own style to incorporate the things she likes. She jokingly tugs at Maya’s collar, disrupting the perfect crease.

Isadora: Maybe we can “grunge” you down a bit, too.

Maya: [ intrigued ] Oh, don’t try and stop me.

They exchange a laugh. Isadora admits she isn’t sure what this revelation will mean for their performance, but Maya is already brainstorming. She tells Isadora to focus on her killer vocals, and to leave the rest to her.

INT. AAA - AUDITORIUM - DAY

Song Cue ♫ ♪ “God Is A Woman (Acoustic)” as performed by Ceresia || Performed by Isadora De La Cruz (feat. Maya Hart)

Maya and Isadora follow Riley and Zay’s toned down lead, ditching the hyped up pop performance for something more stripped. Maya plays guitar while Isadora takes the brunt of the vocals, allowing her the chance to show off her already strong pipes while still having the flexibility to find her sound.

It’s also a change of pace that Isadora is front and center while Maya is taking a back seat, a far cry from her triumphant claim to center stage at the beginning of the year. The rendition and the way they harmonize is an indication of growth for the both of them.

Perhaps, they’ll be able to find the balance for both of their personas. All in due time.

INT. AAA - JACK’S OFFICE - DAY

Lucas is back in the chair opposite Jack’s desk, the tone of the meeting a little less casual than it was earlier in the week. Jack finishes reprimanding him for his refusal to participate.

Jack: Look, you’ve made good strides compared to the last couple of years. We haven’t had a complaint from the fire station at all this year.

Lucas: Yeah, well, stuff gets old after a while. [ with a mocking pout ] I’m tired.

Although it’s said like a joke, it feels like there’s some truth to the statement that Lucas won’t analyze for himself. Jack changes tracks, pointing out that for all the progress he’s made, it’s incredibly easy to back slide. And if he keeps disrespecting Miss Burgess or blowing off assignments, it’s going to come back to bite him.

Lucas questions if that’s the extent of his punishment, to which Jack simply laughs. He comes around the desk and leans against the front of it, tilting his head.

Jack: You remember stage-managing the musical last year, right? Intense job, lots of responsibility, you told me you’d rather down a bottle of drain cleaner than ever do it again? [ Off Lucas’s disdainful expression ] Well, do I have news for you, buddy.

Lucas frowns, looking more than displeased. Here we go again.

INT. AAA - SCRIPT LIBRARY - DAY

The door opens to a darkened, dusty closet, Harper grappling to find the light switch. As the cramped space is illuminated she and Farkle are framed in the doorway, showing him what his punishment will be. For the duration of the semester, he will be spending lunches and free periods assisting with technical jobs.

One of these involves cleaning out and organizing the script library, which is a mess of piles and piles of scripts that need to be alphabetized and sorted neatly. Better get to work.

Farkle saunters into the room as Harper leaves him to it, picking up the first play of hundreds. Death of a Salesman. He sighs and places it in a new pile, beginning the tedious job all alone.

INT. AAA - ATRIUM - DAY

Riley is heading out towards the main entrance as the bell rings, other students filing out. A couple of her classmates give her props on her performance or bid her goodbye, but no one stops to actually have a conversation. Riley keeps her smile on, though it’s thin.

She spots Lucas as he’s stepping out of the main office. The two of them lock eyes across the atrium, another weighted moment passing between them. So much left unsaid. So much they could say, if they could just talk about it.

But it doesn’t look like that’s in the cards. Lucas walks out the front doors in a hurry, not even looking back at her for a second glance.

Riley exhales, closing her eyes and trying to push past it. She stuffs her hands in her pockets, surprised as she remembers the note she hastily stuffed in there earlier in the week. She pulls it out and unfolds it, looking at the scribbled declaration of admiration.

“You’re better.”

Tentatively, she twists the note in her fingers. Then she’s crumpling it, making it as small as it can possibly be. Destroying it as quickly as everything else seems to have crumpled into nothing.

She drops it into the waste bin as she exits the building.

INT. AAA - HALLWAY - DAY

Isadora is at her locker, gathering her things. In the inside door, the same photo of her, Riley, and Lucas is hanging up that Riley has in her locker.

She looks at it, obviously reminiscent. She pulls out her phone, opening her thread with Riley and trying to think of something to say. Wondering if there’s anything to say at all. She certainly doesn’t know, like she told her earlier.

The contemplation is interrupted as Maya comes up to her, energized as usual. She shows off the new patches on her denim jacket.

Maya: Check it out. Already beginning the Izzy-fying of my wardrobe. You inspired me.

Yindra and Zay pass by them, asking if they’re all still planning on hitting up Chubbie’s. Maya asks if Isadora is coming, to which she tells them she’ll catch up with them in a second. She hesitates for a moment longer, glancing at that photo one last time.

Then she closes the door. The last image we see is the photo of the three them, sealed away in the closed, dark locker.

END OF EPISODE.

#s2 #episodes #well!#202

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the-studying-coffee-addict · 5 years

Photo

Hello, students of all ages! Since I graduated, I knew that I wanted to share advice with you guys and it will cover from studying to life and everything in between. So here it is, enjoy!

School:

Figure out what school works for you and your life: This is probably the first thing I normally tell people. Researching the schools that you want to go help narrow down your choices. Make sure that reading details carefully is also important for full understanding. There may be schools that offer specific majors that others may not, so make sure that there’s a full understanding of what the schools offer before making a decision.

Find out your major (and it’s okay to change it later): Knowing of what to major in can be difficult for people to narrow down. There are some people that double major in their college career. If you’re unsure of what to major in, try thinking of what career field you want to be in and find the major that is required. Remember, you choose how you live your life, even choosing your major.

Know what expectations are for the classes you’re taking: Not every professor will be laid back or chill. The work can be difficult and hard to understand. Make sure that on syllabus day you are focused and take notes on the syllabus for later use. As long as you are trying in the class and talking to the professor, you should be fine. Getting a tutor does not make you any less than you are now (I had to have a tutor for my last quarter to help with my French. Was it degrading? No, not one bit. Did it help? Yes.) Talk to some people you may have the class with, join or create a study group. Everyone is in the class with the same goal: to learn.

Find a group, club, or organization to join: This one was a bit hesitant for me because being an introverted person (well, extroverted introvert), it took me until my junior year of college to join something I was passionate in doing. (I’m not going to lie, I didn’t know specifically what I wanted to do until late sophomore year into junior year specifically anyway). I found an organization, Her Campus, that helped me do what I love: writing/editing and helped me learn the skills I needed to learn. I knew that I wanted to work in magazines by the time of me finding HC and when it was brought to Tech (Louisiana Tech University), I knew I had to do it. Since then, I got the opportunity to make my work published through an official online blog that can be seen nationally and internationally, work with the best girl gang on campus, and be able to see what I could create.

Find different study tactics to help you: Ever since I created this studyblr, I found different study tactics: from printables to schedules and everything in between. My go-to for studying were printables. I used ones from @theorganisedstudent ‘s essay planner (I swear by these because I majored in English and used these for every paper I wrote), weekly planner (to help with planning out commuting times, working, and study schedule around class times). I used @studyquill ‘s To-Do List, I constantly used this to make sure I kept track of all assignments and due dates and everything that popped up like random assignments to thought like “ extra credit assignment”. @emmastudies has a lot of wallpapers (which are adorable and amazing) I use those 100 percent of the time. The calendars are chic and available as well, I use the yearly ones. I see in the Studyblr community that people use the bujo templates for journaling, calendars, lists, etc. I didn’t have the skillset, time/patience to try it, but I may over the summer to see how it can turn out. I worked at a ratio of studying for 45 minutes and taking a break for 15 minutes. This helped me stay focused and know when to take a break without thinking about stopping. Remember that everyone is different and use what works for YOU.

Take classes that you’re interested in: When you take classes that are interested in helps make learning fun. Now, there are required classes that are not in your interests and that happens. Try to find something that makes the course interesting. I would watch documentaries for history classes and watch videos (typically short Youtube videos) for psychology. This also helped me with troubling subjects as well.

ALWAYS be prepared: the most important thing I did at the beginning of the quarter I would gather all the info I was giving off the syllabi and make a checklist. My checklist would have “electronics (computer, phone, maybe iPad) and chargers, planner, books, homework assignments, snacks/lunch, and headphones”. I brought these items with me every time I went to school. Now I wasn’t perfect, I still forgot things and I tried to make sure if I had extra chargers or headphones, I put them in a bag or specific holder (similar to this holder). For paperwork of any kind, I kept them in folders of some sort and kept them where I could find them. When I was a freshman, I didn’t receive a curriculum sheet (the paper that had the class requirements) for my major (this was before I transferred) until the last semester before transferring. Since then, I’ve always kept a copy of one for myself and had it with me when I would go to advising for classes. It helped me keep track of what classes I needed to take and where I was at in my schooling. Review notes the night before, even if it’s right before you go to bed. Some professors require that you do the assignments before you get to class and it happens. Merge both previous notes and upcoming assignments in the same time frame to help make sure that you remember the last class’ lesson plus know about the new lesson. Try to plan ahead as best as you can in every way you can. Remember: not everything goes as planned, and there are more letters in the alphabet :)

Find a friend or two in each class: a trend at my university was making a GroupMe chat (or a chat of some kind) for classes in case we needed information. I’ve made a few friends in college and I even made friends with people internationally. Don’t stress over this factor cause sometimes it just happens. If you want to start a friendship or know someone, ask them about something in the class or about their major. This is a common icebreaker for college students. I also made friends with my professors because they were understanding, amazing, and open to helping students out.

Make a studying playlist: the best way to study is with classical/instrumental music because it keeps you focused and it won’t cause distractions. You can find playlists on Youtube, Spotify, and Pandora. Even create one for yourself. Music like soundtrack scores can also help

Look for internships and jobs ASAP: always be on the lookout for jobs, internships, even ask around to job shadow to see if you would like the career path. I found internships and I job shadowed while I was in school and it helped out tremendously. I did mine through Her Campus here.

Find your favorite spots on and off campus: there will be days when you’re going to be studying. Sometimes, being cooped up in your room doesn’t help you focus. Find a place that you’re comfortable being in: a coffee shop (mine was off campus), a student center, a place outside, anywhere where you can enjoy your surroundings and help you study. This can also be a sort of “time out” spot as well. If you have two places you like to be in, you can pick one to be a study spot and the other can be a wind-down spot.

Be realistic with yourself: know yourself, know the workload and responsibilities that are at task. If you can’t handle it, find ways to break it down and handle it. If it gets overwhelming, reevaluate yourself and your situation. College is NOT easy, it will test you and push you to become better- that’s the point.

Change is not always a bad thing: change can be scary and it can either push you to be better or scare you. Pick your decision on if the change will scare you or let it push you.

Know everything you sign up for: Financial aid, work-study, any contracts, etc. Know everything about anything that you sign up for because you want full awareness of the situation. You don’t want to be in a situation where you don’t get what you need or end up owing more than what you bargained for.

Keep receipts of EVERYTHING: when I got my first debit card, I was told to keep my receipts for bookkeeping. If there were a situation where I would need to return something, you would have the receipt. I use this method for everything in my life from keeping my bank statements in a binder to keeping up with any large payments like tuition payments. It helped me keep up with everything I needed to. If you feel like you should have a copy of something, ask for one. Never doubt your gut.

Look for deals on textbooks: there’s always somewhere where textbooks are cheaper. I used the school’s bookstore, Chegg, and Thriftbooks- these were all lifesavers.

Life:

It will not always be perfect: when I graduated from high school, I pictured that I would immediately jump into university like people would do in movies and books. Despite my efforts (and an endless amount of money and time in tutoring), I found myself not going into university and was able to go to community college (side note: there is nothing wrong with community college. If you are in this predicament, you are doing amazing and there is no shame in that). One: even though I was upset that I couldn’t make it how I imagined, I made a backup plan. My plan was to go to c.c. (community college) and then move up to uni (university). Two: I also found out that transferring was possible while in c.c. Even though it’s been four years later, I earned my Bachelor’s Degree and I don’t regret it.

Your situation may change: After my sophomore year, I made the decision to commute because it became expensive for me to live at uni. This may happen to you and that’s okay. I don’t think that moving back home was a bad choice. It did come with some up and downs like living an hour away from uni, spending more money on my car and its maintenance (plus gas), saving money for tuition, and being closer to family. Nothing is wrong with moving back home or even deciding to stay home during uni days. Don’t make matters worse for yourself for any reason.

Have fun, I mean it: college isn’t spending 24/7 on studying and going to classes (yes, please go to class- don’t skip class to have fun). You’re allowed to have fun. I managed my fun. I know myself enough to schedule my fun (and I had understanding friends that knew I took my studying seriously). There were some days where I would have no classes and would decide to use that time to work on assignments, papers, etc so that I could relax later. Or some weekends I would plan not to do anything (especially on Sundays- I call “Sunday Bumdays”) and take the day to unwind, work on self-care, explore, etc. If you can afford for one day of total nothingness, great. If not, try to attempt at a half-day. If you don’t have fun within your journey, it will look back on with either regret or disappointment.

Save money (and be strict about it): every penny matters. Save money for food, gas/ transportation, tuition/books, emergency savings, etc. There are going to be times where you will need money, even if it’s to grab lunch or go grocery shopping. Always have money in the bank and in your pocket. Find odd jobs to do or find a job if you need money. Most college students work part-time and go to school full-time. Don’t forget to treat yourself, and keep in mind to manage it so it doesn’t become a burden.

Learn things outside of the classroom: learn things about your campus, people, the town you’re in, everything. Learning about things around you can help make you feel comfortable, even if you live away from the campus. It’ll help appreciate the environment around you and give you a better experience.

Find a healthy hobby to do: I know college can be/will be exhausting. There is a solution to make sure that there is a healthy outlet for stress relief. Healthy hobbies such as exercise, photography, and exploring new things (crafting classes, movie nights, etc) can help relieve burn out and stress. Personally, I made this studyblr, I free wrote (writing with no agenda/reason), went to the gym, and walked around campus during sunset. I also wrote a short article on it here.

Make a routine: I made a routine to help keep myself busy, know what was going on for the day and to be prepared. The routine would vary for the days depending on my schedules for work and school.

If you need extra help, ask: there is nothing wrong with asking for help. Ask for it and don’t be afraid to.

Take care of your body in ALL forms: mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally, etc. From skincare to getting check-ups. All of it matters and your body and mind are important.

Make a resume and keep up with it: you will learn how to write a resume and clean it to help get you jobs and track your experiences and skills. Don’t slack on it because it is an important tool you will need.

Work:

Don’t overwhelm yourself: work and school can be intimidating, especially when you’re involved with extracurriculars. Get a planner and make a plan for yourself. Remember: make time for yourself too.

Quirky things/ Etiquette:

thank you cards- I sent thank you cards to a bunch of people for different reasons. Like teachers- for teaching me things that helped me graduate, organizations that came to our booth for our organization that we hosted this year, people that gave me things like presents/ advice, and any job shadow/ internships- because it’s always nice to thank people that helped you along the way.

find things that are productive that doesn’t involve studying- you’ll go crazy without it and here.

organize your workspace- tips here

find stationary you love- it makes studying enjoyable even the worst subjects

say your “please”s and “thank you”s- I promise, it will go a long way. Even if you don’t use them, it can help a bad experience turn into a good one

don’t be afraid to think outside of the box- I’m serious, not everyone is traditional and that’s okay. Be comfortable with your life.

know the rules- yes there will be rules and weird ones that you will need to know/follow. There will also be protocols and policies to keep up with as well for things like on-campus living, rules of clubs/organizations, etc. Read them thoroughly.

don’t be rude- just don’t.

make business cards- it’ll make it easier for you in the long run and it’ll help you network

branch out- look for new things to get involved in like poem slams, video game battle meetups, yoga classes, things like that to help expand your taste and experiences.

College will be different for everyone. It can be a different journey that is taken and it can make all the difference. Make it the best years for you.

#college tips #college advice #studyblr #collegeblr #student help #thestudyingcoffeeaddict #collegelifehacks #lifehacks #college #tips and advice

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imperium-romanum · 5 years

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Welcome to 2019, everyone!

I spent the last week and a half at my family’s shack, enjoying the company of close family and friends, and Kali the #ClassicsCat, of course! I’m excited about the fresh start the New Year brings. 2018 was a difficult year for me personally. I haven’t talked about it on the blog because I prefer to focus on positives but as I prepare to face this New Year head on, I would like to reflect on some of the major hurdles that I had to overcome in 2018.

In January, my partner and I were forced to get a restraint order against my neighbour of six and a half years who became aggressive and threatening due to severe (suspected) drug-induced paranoia. We moved in with my parents while we went through the process to have the temporary restraint order confirmed. The restraint order was confirmed in February – a win – but we were not able to return to our unit. The local council, after 11 years of my parents owning the property, decided that our unit was not a legal dwelling. Bureaucracy at its finest.

During March and April, we fought the council for an explanation and started to try and resolve the problem. It seemed we were much more willing to work with them than they were to work with us, though. Shortly before the Easter break commenced my parents received a threatening letter from the council claiming that we were still living in the unit and that we would be fined approximately $20,000 AUD for the violation. This claim was blatantly false, but we still had to go through the process of overturning the impending fine.

We continued to try and solve the problem with our unit in May, but this was soon put on the back-burner when our cat, Kali, developed ketoacidosis due to undiagnosed diabetes. Within the space of 12 hours, she went from being her bright happy self to knocking on death’s door. She spent four days in constant care. I am forever grateful to my parents who paid for her care, which quickly tallied in the thousands. Without their compassion and love for her, we would have been forced to put her to sleep. I recieved many well-wishes during this time from followers, and I am thankful for the support and kindess you showed.

Left: Kali at AHVEC, weighing just 2.7kg. Right: Kali snuggling me and my fiance at a much healthier 4kg.

Kali's struggles weren't over, in June. She again visited the emergency vet hospital after getting into the bin, pulling out a wedged in chicken container, and eating the silicone absorbent pad while we were out for a half-hour at most. We still don’t know how she managed to do it! Thankfully it wasn’t serious in the end; she brought it all back up and suffered no consequences apart from all the dirty looks that my family gave her because of the panic she caused.

After a couple relatively quiet months, my fiancé’s family dog, Jess, also developed diabetes. She was not as lucky as Kali, however, and did not respond to treatment. Within weeks she went completely blind, among other problems. At only 9 years old, my fiancé’s parents were forced to make the difficult decision to put her to sleep. While I do not regret being there for them, it was the first time I had to deal with death in such a confronting way and it was a terrible reminder of how lucky Kali was to survive.

I hit perhaps my lowest ever point mental health-wise around this time. Although the semester was very rewarding, after such an intense period of balancing my personal life and commitments, PhD research, studying a language, and tutoring both academically and privately, I felt emotionally and mentally used up. The best way to describe how I functioned during this period is that I was on auto-pilot.

Although 2018 was undeniably the most difficult year of my almost 26 years of life, there were plenty of positives too. In January I completed my Confirmation of Candidature, which involved presenting a 20-minute paper on my research topic. Then, in February, I was very lucky to upgrade my car by 12 years. Again, I am very grateful to my parents and very aware of how fortunate I am that they are willing and able to assist me financially, with work flexible enough to fit in with a PhD being so hard to come by.

I entered my second year of candidature in late February. It was a reasonably uneventful couple of months until, over two days, I gave two more presentations in May – one at Pint of History titled ‘Catastrophic Crassus: Parthia, #EpicFails, and the Death of Rome’s Richest Man’ and one at the Humanities Showcase at my university, titled ‘It Speaks! The Voice of the Door in the Roman Paraclausithyron’.

I also secured a casual job at UConnect, UTAS’s student services. I had four weeks of nearly full-time work at the start of both semesters which allowed me to save enough money to get me through each semester.

In June, Kali’s glucose curve stabilised, much to ours and the vet’s relief; she has settled into diabetes life well ever since.

July was a month of firsts. I went to New Zealand for the first time and attended my first conference, Amphorae XII. At Amphorae XII, I presented my first conference paper, ‘Pompey’s Eastern Settlements: Considerations and Consequences’. I met some wonderful people, including some mutual followers! I also visited some of the sights, including the Auckland War Memorial Museum, Auckland Art Gallery, Hobbiton, and Hamilton Gardens.

When I returned from New Zealand, I enjoyed another four-week stint working for UConnect and, through the semester, I was also lucky to tutor the first years for HTC104: Introduction to Ancient Rome. This was my first time tutoring in an official capacity and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

When September came around, I received the good news that my abstract had been accepted for ASCS40. My fiancé and I were also finally able to move out of my parents’ house and back into a place of our own. The situation with our unit is still up in the air, unfortunately, but it is moving slowly forward. Still, it’s important to appreciate the small milestones, so to celebrate our return to relative independence we established a small succulent garden in the back area and grew far too many tomato plants.

In November, I reached a major milestone in my PhD journey by completing the necessary coursework element (what UTAS calls a Graduate Certificate in Research) of my degree. As a result, I now have the equivalent of a minor in Latin on top of the Certificate itself. Imperium Romanum also reached its first anniversary!

Finally, in December, my fiancé and I spent many weekends at the family shack enjoying the blessedly warm weather that usually skips Tasmania. Over the Christmas-New Year break, I went to the beach a record three days in a row. Sometimes, you just need to enjoy the simple things.

And so I must turn my attention to 2019. This, like the years before, will be another big one. I’m venturing into the third year of my PhD candidature in late February and, with the GCR finished, I’m looking forward to devoting my time to research. I’ll be attending not one but (hopefully) two conferences this year. The first is ASCS40, 4 to 7 February, at the University of New England in Armidale. It’s now only 33 days away – my funding was approved in December and I’ve booked my flights, accommodation, and hire car. As with Amphorae XII, I’ll be live tweeting the conference and blogging about my adventures in Armidale, which I have not visited before. I’m also hoping to attend Roman Memory: Pacific Rim Roman Literature Seminar 33 in July at the University of Newcastle – I’ll keep you posted on that one.

To finish up, I have a few New Year’s Goals that I would like to share with you. I won’t call them resolutions as I find that term comes with a lot of negative connotations; I’m not solving problems nor do I need to ‘better’ myself. Instead, I want to focus on enjoying all aspects of my life, from the private sphere to the academic.

1. Read more fiction.

I love reading, yet, over the last few years, I’ve noticed that I do very little reading simply for the pleasure of it. Because the last six years of my life have been so academically focused – having gone straight from a Bachelor to Honours to a PhD – I’ve spent so much time reading for university subjects and research that the thought of doing more reading, even fiction, is exhausting. I could probably count the number of new books I’ve read (that haven’t been set for a class) on my fingers. I’ve set myself the goal of reading two to three new fiction books every month – if I can read more, great!

2. Do more activities.

Last year, I went on a fantastic one-day road trip with two friends to Freycinet National Park on Tasmania’s east coast. Then, through December, I enjoyed many more small adventures with my fiancé. Even though I’ve never been particularly fit, I’ve always enjoyed the outdoors. Now that I’m equipped with some top quality hiking boots, I want to get out more – do more bushwalking, walk more rugged and rocky coastlines, and explore more of Tasmania’s wilderness.

I also want to spend less time playing computer games (much as I enjoy them), and more time making things. I’m no artist, but I still love to create things. I’m going to start off by making a pom pom rug in my Harry Potter house colours – Ravenclaw – to go under my desk. I won’t be posting my creations of Imperium Romanum, but I will be posting about them on Instagram and Twitter for those who are interested.

3. Participate in a ‘100 Days of Productivity’ challenge.

While I have a reputation for being a productive student with good grades, the truth is that I am a chronic procrastinator who happens to be very good at whipping up strong assignments last minute. Even outside of the academic sphere, I’m somewhat of a procrastinator, thanks in part to anxiety. So, while I will continue to bring you the latest Classics news, there will be some changes coming to Imperium Romanum as I turn more attention to the everyday realities of studying Classics and my experiences as a student. Life can often be overwhelming, and acknowledging this and finding a better way to tackle the day-to-day burdens before the month-to-month or the year-to-year is going to be a major focus for me. I think that a productivity challenge is an excellent way to do this. Starting January 3, I’ll be documenting my productive efforts via Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr. While I expect most of my days will be related to research, I have no doubt that the challenge will have a positive impact on my life outside of university.

And with that, I’ll wrap up. To all my followers, old and new, I wish you a very happy and prosperous 2019. I hope you’ll share your adventures with me too, and I encourage you to share your New Years Goals – my ask box and submissions are always open!

~ Admin @sassy-cicero-says

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samingtonwilson · 6 years

Text

Relationship Tutor: (Epilogue) Post-Modern Fortress Architecture

relationship tutor masterlist

Summary: College AU. Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: language, quite fluffy, very slight mentions of marijuana

A/N: RT IS OFFICIALLY DONE! YAY! thank you to everyone that decided to indulge the ridiculousness! this isn’t really a traditional epilogue but it’s keeping with the tone of the series so it’s funny and weird hfkgdfgh LOVE Y’ALL SO MUCH!

The closet was dark, lonely, and quiet, a welcomed change from every other corner of your apartment.

Students you’d never met, students you highly regretted ever having met, and people that somehow conned you into becoming friends with them filled your home with celebratory dancing, drinking, and, more often than you would have liked, screaming. Black polyester graduation gowns littered the ground, as did caps, orange tassels, and the occasional satin sash— it was almost as if the entire graduating class shared Sam’s mindset and taste for corny party themes.

He’d announced it on Facebook. Made an event page a month in advance, contacted each person that he knew had “the hook-up” with local liquor stores for a discount, and bought his graduation regalia early along with a burgundy satin pajama set, complete with collared button-up shirt, matching shorts, and warm suede slippers.

You were obviously less excited than he was, reluctantly clicking the “Will attend!” button and unpacking your graduation gown two nights before you’d originally planned to do so just to get the deep-set wrinkles out. Though you knew the pajamas you’d wear underneath were nothing special— just a black henley Bucky had left in your bedroom and a pair of light blue satin shorts— and you knew Sam’s promised bribe— a pre-rolled joint filled with your favorite strain— would eventually prove itself to be not at all worth it, you feigned excited energy and didn’t actively discourage his plans like you normally would have.

After all, you could only really graduate alongside your favorite people once and doing what any of them wanted— especially what Sam wanted— was well worth the pain it would cause you. And seeing all of your classmates don pajamas that ranged from highly sexualized to extremely geared towards comfort under their graduation garb was guaranteed to cause you degrees of amusement almost on par with the promised degrees of discomfort parties brought about inherently.

You rolled the lit joint between your index fingertip and thumb, exhaling so the smoke washed against the door and spread over your hung clothes. Your phone was set on silent and placed atop your closed wicker hamper, the bulb Sam had bought you from a smoke shop as a joke hanging overhead to provide a dim red light reminding you of some terrible Justin Bieber music video.

There was a brief set of knocks before the door clicked open, your arm immediately going behind your back to hide the tiny bit of the joint that remained until Bucky’s facial features were bathed in red light.

He wore a smile of relief when he spotted you in the far right corner of the surprisingly roomy walk-in closet, shutting the door as he moved to sit beside you. He leant his back against the wall as you did, stretching his legs out before himself and kicking his own suede and satin slippers off. “Wilson said you were hiding.”

“I’m not hiding, I just needed a few minutes to myself.”

“And your closet’s the best place for that?”

You nodded, tipping your nose to the ceiling and sighing out. “The blonde from 4-D insists on using my bed as a place to cry to her friend about her ex-boyfriend.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You love Sam’s parties.”

“Yeah, well, I love you more,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at you and taking the joint you offered him. He inhaled the smoke deeply and held his breath for a few seconds, exhaling upwards and sighing as he tossed the burning paper into the cup of water you held out to him.

He still wore his graduation gown over the simple t-shirt and plaid flannel trousers he’d decided would suffice as his theme-required pajamas, his now-longer hair smoothed out of his face. “Nat was looking for you.”

“Yeah, she wanted to borrow some shoes for tomorrow. I’ll find her later.” Your head lolled against the wall, your eyes half-lidded. “How’s Steve?”

“Still trying his level-hardest with Wanda,” Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “She’s loving it, too. S’almost like he’s found someone just as fuckin’ dorky as he is.”

“She’s not dorky, she’s just a little weird.”

“Well, whatever she is, she’s indulging Steve’s inability to flirt. I’ve never seen someone wearing that much black eyeliner laugh so much.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned your face to look at Bucky. You followed the slope of his nose with your eyes and smiled a bit when he met your gaze. “So we graduate tomorrow.”

“Do we? Thought we were all joining a Buddhist monastery or something,” he joked, waving his arms around to emphasize the flowiness of his unzipped gown. He took one of your hands in both of his as you laughed quietly, toying with your fingers. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

“Considering it’s just walking across a stage to get a rolled up piece of paper from the dean,” you began, bumping your shoulder against his. “No, I’m good.”

“Really? You? Master of stress? Walking across a stage in front of the entire graduating class and everyone’s families?”

You narrowed your eyes. “First of all, mistress of stress. Secondly, are you trying to stress me out?”

“Misery loves company.”

“Wow, look at you, using idioms. It’s like you want me to have sex with you right here in this closet.” You leant into him, laying your head against his shoulder that shook in silent laughter. “You think you’re gonna trip on stage, or something?”

He shook his head. “It’s not the ceremony.”

“Is it the dinner with your parents afterwards? I’m planning on lying to get out of being with my family, you could do the same. Tell them you’re sick, have dinner with me in this closet.”

“Why in the closet?”

“So my parents can’t find me when they realize it’s a lie. This,” you motioned to the dimly lit closet, “is my fortress, Barnes.”

He snorted, expression and voice losing all traces of humor as he squeezed your hand. “You remember last summer? When you barely returned my texts, said you were too busy to see anyone, and pretended you didn’t know who I was right before fall semester?”

“God, I’m so funny.” You lifted your head and noticed his solemn expression, shaking your head. “I mean, fuck me, that was terrible of me to do.”

He smirked momentarily. “It wasn’t terrible of you to do. I just— I know we probably won’t be around each other as much as we are now and I don’t want things to change.”

“They’re still going to change, though.”

He scoffed, dropping your hand and tilting his head back. “Thanks, doll, that makes me feel a lot better.”

You smiled and shook your head, maneuvering so you could straddle his lap, adjusting your legs around him and raising an eyebrow when he opened his eyes to meet yours. You set your hands on either side of his face, your fingers wrapping around the back of his neck and your thumbs below his cheekbones.

He hesitated for a moment before his hands slipped under the hem of the shirt you wore, rough palms against your smooth skin and fingers protectively tight— almost as if you were already leaving him, as if the empty boxes that were littered over your bedroom floor were filled and sealed.

“Breathe.”

Exhaling through parted lips, he complied.

“Last summer was… I spent the three months having sex, drinking, working, having more sex—”

He clicked his tongue and looked away, shaking his head.

You laughed. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Not the time for jokes.”

“I was a mess last summer,” you continued. “I was stuck here, taking summer classes, while all of you idiots abandoned me to have lives. Sam was gone, Steve was gone, you were gone. Figured I’d use the time to get over my little crush on you.”

A brief smile crossed his features.

You leant forward to press a kiss to his forehead, doing away with the creases denting his otherwise smooth skin. You then pressed your lips to his right temple, his left temple, and his left cheek slowly. “It didn’t really take. Then again, how could it when you texted me to check on me every week and offered to visit every time I told you I had an exam?”

His hands slid upwards, your body arching into his in response. “Told you I’ve been in love with you for a while.”

You hummed as you kissed his right cheek and stopped inches before his lips, nose brushing his. “The pretending not to know you when you came back was a joke— Steve’s idea.”

“That fuckin’ punk ass—”

“I don’t plan on moving on from you after graduation,” you told him, leaning away an inch or two to focus a little better. “But things will change. I mean, I’m going to be unemployed for the foreseeable future, you’ll be stuck at that startup doing dead-end marketing, and we won’t live within three minutes of each other but—” your head tilted. “Wait.”

He hummed, nodding upwards questioningly.

“Was all of this a preamble into you asking me to move in with you?”

He shook his head, frowning contemplatively. “It wasn’t, but now that you mention it—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, eyes wide.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“It was your idea.”

“It was my suspicion.”

“Eh, semantics,” he said dismissively, chuckling when you pushed at his chest. “S’a good idea, though. No Sam or Steve to interrupt us at the worst times, no need to keep it down.”

“Living together entails more than just sex, Bucky.”

“I’m aware. I like the other things it entails, too.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “So you like the idea of me using your razor when I can’t find mine, me making you do all the cooking because I can barely boil water, me being around all the damn time?”

He hummed in what sounded like contentment and his hands slid up your back, your spine involuntarily curving towards him once more. “I’m bankin’ on you being around all the damn time.”

“We’re already an old married couple. You’ll get sick of me.”

“And you’ll get sick of me,” his voice was dreamy, a laugh escaping him when you scowled. “Come on, we’ve basically been married fifty years-- s’about time we live together. So will you please--”

“No,” you nearly shouted as you shook your head vigorously. “Not when I’m sitting in your lap and can feel your half-chub under me.”

He snorted. “Half-chub. Did you join a frat without telling me?”

“Don’t ask me to move-in with you like this! You were just spiraling, and we’re in my closet with this fucking rasta light on, and I’m wearing a graduation gown with silk shorts and no underwear, and—”

“You’re not wearing underwear?”

“Of course not,” you practically laughed with a roll of your eyes, ignoring the way his teeth fell into his bottom lip and his eyes flitted in the direction of your hips. You slapped your hand against his shoulder. “Bucky, you can’t ask me to move-in with you after telling me you’re nervous that we’ll drift apart after graduation!”

“Why not?”

“Because— Because—” You shrugged with a sigh. “I don’t know! Shouldn’t this be something you think about for a while and not something you jump at just because I had a suspicion?”

“Why should I have to think about it for a while?”

You opened your mouth to reply and he shook his head before you could speak. “You aren’t my tutor on this relationship shit anymore, but you told me that there’s no perfect time for anything. There isn’t a perfect time for me to ask you this, it’s right when it’s right.”

“I’m going to be broke as shit, Bucky. I have no job lined up and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna need a master’s degree before I can even start applying again.” You took your hands from his skin and sat back. “My parents are okay with me freeloading off of them and I’m totally okay with taking advantage of that— but I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“So you can’t pay your half of the rent for a few months,” he shrugged dismissively. “Wilson’s been doing that here and it’s not like you resent him for it.”

“Well, no— but this is different. What if we break-up?”

“Then life will fuckin’ suck and I’ll likely need therapy for the inevitable alcoholism.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Not cute.”

“Neither is all this ‘what if’ nonsense.” He took your hands in his, lacing his fingers through yours and sighing. “The apartment I was planning on leasing is fuckin’ ugly. The carpet is at least ten years old, there’s only one sink in the bathroom, and I’m pretty sure someone living on the floor below sells crack.”

“Jesus.”

“Look for somewhere new with me.”

“Bucky, —”

“Would it help if I asked you to marry me?”

Your eyes widened. “No! What the fuck—”

He released your hands and held his up in innocence, laughing as you stared at him. “Kidding.”

��You’re not only asking because of that nervous spiraling?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“And not just because I was suspicious?”

“No.”

“You haven’t been drinking?”

“No.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with taking care of rent for a while?”

“Yes.”

“We can adopt a dog?”

He grinned. “Nothing that sheds like Rebecca’s fuckin’ cat.”

“Sam can have a key?”

“As long as Steve can.”

You nodded and narrowed your eyes. “And you remember that I’m not wearing underwear right now?”

His hands on your hips once more, he hauled your body flush against his, emphasizing his current state with an upward press of his pelvis into yours. “Trust me, I remember that.”

tag list, hopefully y’all get notified lmao: @sweetstilesofmine@dugan365@lowkeysebby @eufeme @marveling-at-marvel@anyakinamidala@spookyscaryscully@sighodinson@feelmyroarrrr@sarahp879@spidey-linquentimagines@mackenziesmarvelousgalaxy@aholland01@lostinspace33@clairedycat1810@softwhispers@apolleo@sebstancial@buckylovelybarnes@chrys-1029 @sheddingpounds@brooke-supernatural16 @seargantbcky@someonekindalikeyou@marvel-trash07@chuckennuggets1213@captainmisfit13@ailynalonso15@lilypalmer1987@nasasoldier@snuggleducky @acebabe@melswolf19 @e-g-b-o-k@iamzion-therealhabesha@fancybasementpersona@hercrazyfandomobsession@ohmybuckybarnes@sarahp879@lovely-geek @void-imaginations @mad-girl-without-a-box@stomachfilledwithbutterflies@joulien@followeroonieclassic@tomdarlingholland@rebelfuckingblack@bakerstgirl@starkxpotts@jimmyisfab @jehun-prouvaire @peachy-vixen@mcheung0314@wowbarnes @thiccmillions@sumafamouxx @quinn-n-quill@amcrasnow@wheneggsymetbucky @krockszz @brokenanxiety@addictionmarvel@closerstars@captainradicalpassion@rockagurl@directionerfae@shawnsassymendes@irella-nyari@cadence-jeannette@rebel-emerald @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes @little-miss-headphones@winternatalias@iwishiwasnicki @writingcroissant@finallybreathee @saul-buttson@potterglory@samijolles@justahappylilblog@rebeljupiter@poopybadwi @fandomlover03@acunningstargazer@magnitude101999@sinfullyinnocentinthebestway@airforcecollins@demonsandfaries-blog-blog @myboyfriendgiriboy@impalaanddemons@kozmicrock@randomtwistedlife @darthseph@brooke0297@kiera-hastings@justdiasporathings@coruscaret @justweirdjess @littlebigfishes @roronoarengi @ragingsavage @asteroidshirogane @thelastxgoodthing@shuriismyqueen@biologik @halmel02 @bornfortherainydays @yesixoxo @caffeinated-at-bedtime@mizzzpink @eves-library @evolutionofkatep @commonarthoe @heyrogers @just-add-butter @5-seconds-of-sarcasmm@sergeant-james-bbarnes @burningbiatch @papi-chulo-seb @hopeladybug@bekah-mikaelsxn @96hyungs @a-bit-of-contained-galaxies@samwinchxtr@sireennotsiren @ordinarybandgirl @nerdyxb @ravensglory @oddly-drawn-muse @jemjem-chan @coal000 @who-cares-rn @hoe4sebstan @jxbuckybarnes

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader au #bucky barnes au

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someinvisible-string · 6 years

Text

I Don’t Need You to Save Me (But Would You Run Away With Me)

Summary: A lot can happen in ten years; mistakes, triumphs, questions, and answers, all things that Killian Jones doesn't know if he wants or even deserves. But with his 10 year high school reunion, he will have to finally come face to face with the center of all his questions and perhaps get the answers he needs.

A/N: This fic would be near as good if it weren't for my wonderful beta @writemyanchor , nor would it exist without the Captain Swan Little Bang. Beautiful artwork by @shippingtheswann

Trigger Warnings for financial and verbal abuse and mentions of past physical abuse.

AO3

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian stared at himself in the mirror attempting to work his tie into a presentable knot, which was proving difficult with one hand. He sighed and tossed it onto his dresser, feeling frustrated. Yet another reason to skip out on his 10-year high school reunion. Others being that he needed to catch up on some shows that were piling up on his DVR and the mountain of essays that needed grading sitting on his kitchen counter.

His phone ringing shook him out of his thoughts and he fished his phone out of his back pocket without bothering to look at his caller ID.

“Hello, David,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“You’re coming tonight,” was all David had to say in response.

“I don’t know...” Killian started, but David cut him off.

“Come on man, don’t you want to see everyone?”

“David, everyone still lives here; I see everyone from school all the time.”

“Not everyone.”

“You know she won’t be there,” Killian sighed, thinking about reason number one (and really the only reason) he didn’t want to go to this reunion.

“You don’t know that. She could surprise us all,” David said.

“We haven’t heard from her since she ran away.”

“So? Doesn’t mean she still can’t come tonight.”

“That is highly unlikely.”

“Stranger things have happened. Look just come to the thing, please? Mary Margaret busted her butt working on this and she’d love for you to come. Just stay for one drink.”

Killian ran his hand through his hair, knowing that he really wasn’t going to be able to get out of going tonight. “All right, just one drink though.”

“Great! We’ll see you at Granny’s!” David hung up before Killian could say anything else. He sat down on his bed, head in his hand. He could feel a migraine beginning to brew behind his eyes, but he had said he’d go for at least one drink and if Killian Jones was anything, he was a man of his word.

He got up, taking one last look in the mirror and deciding against the tie tonight. He was most likely going to be there for only a half hour, an hour tops, with people he saw nearly every day. No need to impress anyone.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma sat in yet another administrative office swinging her legs back and forth as she waited for another new set of foster parents to finish signing all the forms officially enrolling her in Storybrooke High School. The Smiths seemed all right as far as new foster parents went. She was their only foster child; they had another biological daughter who was away at college, but Emma had been with many “nice enough” foster families who turned out to be anything but. She had to leave her last foster home when someone noticed the bruises on her arms and figured out that her foster father had taken to hitting her and the other children with a thick switch. He did it when they did anything he deemed “out of order” and everything seemed to be out of order there. Emma still had a particularly nasty bruise on her shoulder for accidentally knocking his beer into his lap.

“All right, Emma,” her new principal said as she opened the door to her office. “You’re all signed in, and now I just have a few things to go over with you.”

“Okay.” Emma hitched her worn backpack higher on her unbruised shoulder.

“Here is your schedule for the semester,” she said, handing Emma a thick piece of stock paper. “Now seeing as how you are coming to us mid-semester, we’ve taken the liberty of assigning you to a tutor during your study hall period on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I’m sure I can catch up on my own,” Emma said, her jaw tight and her shoulders squared.

“Be that as it may, I would feel much better if you had some help starting out. Give it a month and if your teachers tell me that you are caught up with the material, then you can tell your tutor that you’ll no longer be needing his services.”

“Fine,” Emma sighed and took her schedule from the principal.

“I hope you enjoy your time here at Storybrooke High,” she said, trying to smile warmly at her.

Emma bit her tongue, keeping her sarcastic retort in her mouth where it belonged and simply nodded at the woman. She made her way out of the office and into the hall, schedule in hand and no idea where to go.

“Hi!”

Emma looked up and saw a chipper brunette with a pixie cut waving enthusiastically at her. Emma instantly knew she had to be one of those perky student council types administration always asked to show the transfer students around.

“I’m Mary Margaret,” the girl continued, “and Mrs. Pendragon told me to show you around for the day! It’s nice to meet you.” She took Emma’s hand and shook it.

“Nice to meet you, too...” Emma replied, forcing a smile. She knew exactly what she was in for: a chipper goody two-shoes shadowing her around the school and giving her useless bits of information about a school that’s only been around for 20 years or so instead of the good stuff like which bathroom was the easiest to sneak out of or what food in the cafeteria to avoid.

“So to start off, I guess I’ll tell you a little about the school. Storybrooke High was founded in 1983,” Mary Margaret prattled on as they walked down the hall.

As far as Emma could see, Storybrooke High was one big building with the athletic fields nearby and a seemingly massive football stadium. There were various trophies displayed in a large glass case in the main hall that seemed to be the central hub of the school, leading her to believe that sports were a big deal there.

“Oh, and you have to join yearbook! It’s a great way to get involved and see what’s going on and I’m not saying that just because I’m the editor.” Mary-Margaret’s voice broke Emma out of her thoughts.

Emma didn’t have the heart to tell her that with her record she probably wouldn’t be there by the end of the year to see the actual book published. So instead she settled with, “Oh thanks, but I think I should just try to focus on school work before I start joining clubs and stuff.”

“Of course.” Mary Margaret started to say something else, but was interrupted by the bell ringing. “Oh, is it lunch time already?”

“Looks like it,” Emma said as students started flooding the halls and floating towards the cafeteria.

“Well, why don’t you come sit with me and my friends? I promise they’re all super nice!”

“Oh um, well actually...” Emma stuttered. She had never received an invitation to sit with her tour guide before. “I should probably go get my books from the library, you know?”

Mary Margaret’s face fell. “Oh, okay. Do you want me to show you where the library is then?”

“You don’t have to miss part of your lunch for me. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll find my way.” Emma followed the directions Mary Margaret had given her, feeling a small twinge of guilt in her chest as she walked away.

It’s for the best, she told herself. What’s the use in making friends when you’re probably going to have to move again anyways?

If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that it sucked being the new kid. Everyone already had their friends and cliques so it was almost worse being the person who hovered awkwardly around the edges of the group than just being “the loner.” The absolute worst was getting just close enough to someone to start even considering them a friend, only to have something happen that would force Emma to change foster families again.

New family. New school. New kids.

Same bullshit.

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian opened the door to the diner, a quick survey of the room showing him that his expectations of the night hadn’t been far off. Mary Margaret and David sat in their usual booth in the corner and Ruby Lucas was serving drinks behind the bar, holding court with her old posse of theater nerds while Victor Whale stood by and tried to flirt with her. Killian had an odd little flashback to high school, everyone sitting in similar spots as they did in the cafeteria. The meathead jocks–now meathead businessmen–sat together with their cheerleader-turned-PTA parent wives. Thankfully, he saw the school librarian and one of his close friends, Belle French, sitting in a corner by herself. So Killian got himself a drink and sat down next to her.

“Suddenly high school doesn’t seem like it was ten years ago does it?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said, “you’d think people would have changed somewhat in a decade.”

“Maybe at our twenty-year reunion, then?” he smiled at her, glad to have a companion for the night. He opened his mouth to ask her how the library renovations were going. After taking over for her mother, Belle had finally found enough money in the budget to put all new computers in. However, Killian was disrupted from his thoughts when the bell above the front door chimed.

“Oh my god,” Belle said once she saw who walked in.

Killian turned and his jaw instantly dropped because Emma Swan, a vision in red, had once again walked unexpectedly into his life.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma breathed a sigh of relief once she entered the library. At least no matter what school she was in, the libraries were there to comfort her with their familiar and soothing, musty scent.

She walked up to the librarian and handed her her schedule. “I need some textbooks, please.”

“Well, we’ll get these for you, dear. I’ll grab the textbooks from the back and the books for your English class are going to be in those two back shelves.” She handed Emma a list of novels to check out and pointed to the back corner.

Emma groaned inwardly as she pulled her required texts from the shelves. She had read The Great Gatsby twice and Romeo and Juliet three times already. Hopefully, her English teacher would take pity on her and let her read something else.

Emma walked back to the front desk to find a guy about her age standing there instead of the nice librarian from before.

“She’s still in the back getting your textbooks, but I can check out those books for you if you want,” he explained, motioning to the stack in her hands. He was tall and lanky, with a nose he still needed to grow into, and the bluest eyes Emma had ever seen.

“Thanks.” Emma put her books on the desk and he wrote down the titles in an old record book. “They keep it old school here, don’t they?”

“If it ain’t broke, no need to fix it,” he shrugged. “At least that’s what Mrs. French always says when I try to talk her into getting a new system.”

“A bit stubborn, I’m guessing?”

“Just a tad,” he smiled at her, extending his hand for her to shake, and Emma noted that the kids at that school seemed to really be into the whole hand-shaking thing. “I’m Killian.”

“Emma,” she returned with a small smile.

“You’re new, I take it?”

“What was your first clue?” Emma tilted her head in mock confusion.

“I don’t know, just something about you. Maybe your expression?”

“Ha ha,” Emma laughed with a roll of her eyes.

“All right, dear, here are your books.” Mrs. French the librarian returned, heaving the stack of books onto the desk.

“I told you I could have gotten those for you,” Killian said to the woman.

“Nonsense, dear, it’s good for my health.” She waved him away with a roll of her eyes. “So, you two have been getting to know each other?”

“A bit, yeah,” Killian said, looking at Emma with a curious expression.

Suddenly she felt her walls slam back up, knowing she couldn’t make the same mistakes she’d made before: too many boys with kind smiles and sweet words had hurt her more than she ever could have expected.

She wasn’t going to be stupid this time around.

“Yeah, just a bit. I should go put these in my locker before next period,” she said, grabbing her books off the desk.

“You want some help?” Killian called after her.

“I got it,” Emma half shouted over her shoulder, knowing that she probably wouldn’t be going into that library again.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“I can’t believe she’s here,” Belle whispered to an awestruck Killian.

“Yeah,” he responded, his eyes taking in the sight of a woman he had not seen in over a decade. Her blonde hair was curled and looked so soft he longed to run his fingers through it. Then there was the tight red dress and sky high heels that left little to the imagination.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something to her?” Belle asked him.

“I-I-” Killian scrambled for words. “What would I even say to her?”

“How about, ‘Hi! How have you been since high school?’” Belle raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s what these reunions are for.”

“Belle, you don’t understand,” Killian whispered in a rush, “I can’t just go up to her.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Jesus, Killian, just do it.” Belle pushed him harder than he was expecting for a woman half his size and he nearly fell out of his chair. The whole room looked towards him, including Emma. Oh how he wished he could have just melted into the floor right there. When he imagined meeting Emma again, he was always calm, cool, collected and in control of the situation. This moment could not have been further from his imagination.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

The first few days at Storybrooke High went by fast for Emma. She attended her classes, lived through the embarrassing announcements from teachers that she was new, and had even found a nice, grassy hilltop where she could spend her lunch period alone with a book. By Friday, she knew her way around the school well enough that she only got turned around once. However, that one mix-up led to her running late to her study hall period, forcing her to stumble into the library and hurry to a seat.

“Well, hello again.”

Emma looked up and saw Killian with that soft, kind smile of his.

“Do you live in here or something?” she asked incredulously, pulling her Algebra II textbook out of her backpack.

“Let’s go with ‘or something’,” he said, staying seated in the chair next to her.

“Um, you might have to move soon,” she said defensively.

“Why?”

“Because I’m saving this seat for someone?”

“Well, it turns out that I was actually saving that seat you’re sitting in for someone,” he smirked at her. “The girl I’m tutoring.”

Realization dawned on Emma as she took in his smug expression—the obvious air of superiority and the pity in his eyes.

Emma definitely didn’t need nor want anything from him.

“Look, I didn’t ask for a tutor,” she finally said. “The principal just gave me one in case I needed to catch up and I’m perfectly capable of catching up on my own.” Emma couldn’t help the slight bite in her tone, but she didn’t care.

“Okay, point taken.” Killian leaned back, holding his hands up in defeat. “Well, since they probably aren’t going to just unassign me from being your tutor, I have a proposition for you.” Emma raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, but he was quick to say, “Not like that!” a bit too loudly, considering they were in a library.

Killian’s blush matched Emma’s as several other students around them turned their way. He lowered his head and leaned closer to her, speaking quietly, “What I’m trying to say is that we can just be study partners. We can do homework together and help each other out if we need to.”

Emma mulled it over. At least this way when she had a question it wouldn’t feel as embarrassing to ask him. The playing field would be even. And in all honesty, Mr. Spencer was a really hard teacher and she didn’t really have the best Algebra II teacher at her last school.

“Okay,” she shrugged. “I guess we can give it a shot.” They ended up shaking on it, and Emma told herself that the little tingle of electricity that shot up her arm when their hands touched was simply because she was excited to do better in the class than she originally expected. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Killian may have been the closest thing she’d had to a friend in ages.

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian could hear the whispers directed towards Emma as she walked up to the bar and he recalled all of the rumors that had cropped up when she suddenly stopped coming to school all those years ago.

“She’s in the Witness Protection Program and had to leave for her safety!”

“No, no. She’s the criminal and had to leave because the cops were after her!”

“No. I heard it was because she got knocked up and her foster family didn’t want her anymore!”

“Nah, she ran off with the baby daddy!”

None of the so-called “theories” were ever close to why she actually left, and only Killian really knew what had happened. He felt a stone of residual anger plummet in his stomach at the memory.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret called and parted the crowd of people milling about. She enveloped Emma in a hug when she finally got to her and Killian could see Emma’s shoulders tense as her eyes widened in surprise—she never was great with receiving the love and kindness she deserved. Nevertheless, Mary Margaret guided Emma back to the booth that she and David occupied with a few of their friends.

Emma sat on the very edge seat, the closest to the door, because she was always ready to run Even after ten years, Killian could still read her like an open book.

“What happened between you two?” Belle asked, bringing him back to the present

“A lot, Belle. I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay. But, Killian, you really should go and talk to her. I’m sure whatever happened between you can be mended.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying you have to make things right in a night, but you should at least make the first step towards making things better. What’s that thing you always tell me?”

Killian looked down at his clenched hand. “‘A man unwilling to fight, deserves what he gets.’”

“And what exactly is hiding in the corner with me going to get you?” She smirked triumphantly at him. Killian groaned and looked towards the ceiling, knowing that Belle had a point.

“Fine, I’ll go talk to her.” He stood up, his hand sweaty and knees weak. His heart felt like it would beat right out of his chest as he walked towards her. Everything else fell to the wayside and suddenly all he could see was her.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma tried to keep Killian at arm's length, tried to keep her walls up so that when and if she eventually had to leave the only one who got hurt would be her. But the thing about Killian Jones, she was learning, was that he had a way of slowly knocking those walls down, one by one.

Somewhere in those study hall hours spent trying to decipher their homework, Emma stopped fearing that she would suddenly need to be moved to a new home or that she might need to take matters into her own hands and run away. Instead, her head was filled with the little jokes and comments Killian made while trying to work through their homework, the way his blue eyes brightened whenever she actually laughed with him, the way his bangs would sometimes flop over his forehead and into his eyes. She tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about how much she wanted to brush those locks of hair with her hand.

One day, there was a particularly large amount of homework Mr. Spencer had assigned in order to prepare them for his upcoming midterm...or so he had said. Emma just thought he enjoyed the loud groans of frustration coming from his class.

“Swan?” Killian asked, using her last name as he had taken to calling her. “There’s no way we’re going to be able to get through all this homework in study hall.”

“You’re right,” Emma said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is just a cruel and unusual amount of homework.”

“Well, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go to Granny’s after school so we can finish and then start studying for his midterm,” he said in a rush.

Emma could read between the lines. This wasn’t an innocent invitation to study; this was an invitation to something more. Her heart sank when she realized she was going to have to say no to whatever he had in mind.

“Oh, Killian, I’m sorry, but I actually have to go look for a job after school.” Emma knew he was trying to hide it, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“Oh, no worries then. I understand. You should try the movie theater. They’re always looking for people there.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you trying to save up for college?”

Emma shook her head. “My foster parents think it’ll be a good way to get to know people here and my caseworker agrees.” Emma didn’t really like telling people that she was in the foster system since she already stuck out enough as a new kid in ratty hand-me-downs. She didn’t need people knowing that she was an orphan on top of that.

But with Killian, she didn’t want to keep that part of herself a secret anymore.

“Well, if you want to get to know people here, you should get a job at Granny’s. Her granddaughter Ruby is in our grade and she knows everyone.”

“You think Granny would hire me?”

“I don’t see why not. Trust me, if Ruby can work there, so can you.”

And with that, Killian met her on the front steps of the school once the final bell rang and they walked to Granny’s Diner together. Once inside, Killian discreetly pointed to an older woman who was slinging out plates onto the front counter faster than she could say “Order Up!”

“That’s Granny,” Killian said. “Just go introduce yourself and tell her you’re interested in a job here. You have your resume in your backpack, so you’re all set.” Gently, he pushed her towards Granny, who was right in the middle of taking someone’s order.

“I can’t do it now, she’s talking to someone!” Emma tried to turn and walk out the door, but Killian caught her by the elbow.

“Look, she’s finished! Go on. The worst she can say is ‘no.’”

“Can I get you kids anything, or are you just going to block my doorway?” Granny asked, suddenly in front of them with her hands on her hips and a half-smile that made her look authoritative and friendly at the same time.

“Yes, actually,” Emma said before she lost her nerve. “A job, please? I would like a job.”

“Hmm, what hours can you work, darlin’?”

“After school? And on weekends. I can even come in and open if you need me to some days.”

“Ever worked in a diner before?”

“Once, in Minnesota.” Emma handed Granny her resume, hoping she didn’t ask any more questions about that. Her foster family in Minnesota had been so awful that she had started sleeping in the restaurant’s boiler room just to avoid going home. It was a wonder she never got caught.

“Well then,” Granny said, perusing Emma’s resume over the top of her half-moon glasses, “it looks like you’ve got a job, Miss Swan.”

“Really?” Emma said, looking over at Killian in disbelief.

“Really. Now come back tomorrow after school and we’ll start training you when it’s slow.”

Emma smiled brighter than she had in a long time. “Thank you!”

Storybrooke—Present Day

“Emma?” Killian tapped her on the shoulder, not sure what he was expecting her to do when she saw him. He wasn’t expecting the smile that she gave him when she turned and realized it was him.

“Killian?” she said in disbelief, her eyes scanning up and down his body.

“Aye, love, it’s me,” he said, standing a bit straighter. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good. A bit surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“You can thank me for that,” Mary Margaret piped in.

“She tracked me down online last month and practically forced me to come,” Emma smirked.

“I did not force you! I just suggested that you should come up from Boston and visit us,” Mary Margaret said innocently

“Yes, to the point that I thought if I didn’t say ‘yes’ you’d drive down and force me into your car.”

“Well, however I persuaded you to come, the point is you’re here! We missed you! For a minute, it seemed like you weren’t going to come.”

Emma shot a quick look at Killian who averted his gaze to the drink in his hand. A deep feeling of shame brewed in his chest because he knew what had happened—what he had done to make Emma want to leave and never come back.

She probably didn’t think he’d come tonight.

“Well, I’m here now,” Emma deflected with a wave of her hand. “I’d much rather hear about how you’re doing. How’s Leo?” she asked Mary-Margaret.

As Mary Margaret launched into talking about her and David’s son, Killian allowed himself to look at Emma a bit more closely. She looked as beautiful as she always had: her arms were toned and muscular; her face had matured, and her expression was brighter and more open than it had been years ago.

His eyes darted down to her left hand and he couldn’t help the excited swoop in his chest when he didn’t find a ring on her fourth finger.

“Earth to Killian,” Mary Margaret waved at him, pulling him out of his trance.

“Right, sorry. What were we talking about?”

“Your job, remember? How you’re a teacher now?”

“Oh right, sorry. I must have zoned out for a moment.” He blushed furiously.

Smooth, Killian. Real smooth.

“What subject do you teach?” Emma asked.

“AP European History and Honors US History.”

“You always did love history,” Emma said with a small smile.

“Aye, I did. What about you, Swan? Where do you work?”

“I’m a cop in Boston,” she said, but Killian could tell there was something she was keeping from them.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her upper arms protectively. She had always done that back then.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Killian and Emma had ended up staying at the diner for a while after Granny offered her a job. Emma had some forms to fill out and they ended up studying for the midterm until it got dark.

“Killian?” Emma asked as he walked her home. “Can I ask you something?”

“You already did, but sure.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile slightly at his teasing. “What I told you earlier, about how I’m in the foster system...Could you please not tell anyone? It’s not that I’m ashamed or anything...”

“You just want people to know on your own terms,” Killian finished.

“Yeah.”

“No problem, Swan. I understand.”

“You do?”

“I was in a group home for a few months, two years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she started, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“It’s not your fault. My dad walked out on me, my brother, and my mom when I was three. My mom got sick and, well, she didn’t get better so my brother had to prove he was able to take care of me. Now it’s just me and Liam.”

“You’re lucky.”

“I know. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be not to have someone on the outside.” Killian rocked back nervously on his heels. “Well, I shared. What’s your story, Swan?”

Emma rolled her eyes at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

Emma turned and saw his earnest expression. It was clear he wanted to know her; her vulnerabilities, walls, and secrets. It was all too much because she had never bothered to get this close to anyone in a long time.

It excited her.

It terrified her.

“I can walk the rest of the way back myself,” she said quickly before Killian could protest, she had hurried ahead of him. Arms crossed, head down, and refusing to look back.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“So how do you like it? Your job I mean,” Killian said hoping, he wasn’t overstepping.

“I like it, but I actually need a refill. Talk later, yeah?” Emma said, holding up her nearly empty glass. She rushed back towards the bar before David could reach their group.

“Is she alright?” David asked Mary Margaret.

“I hope so. I mean, I remember her being a bit skittish back in the day. I thought since she agreed to come tonight, she might have come out of her shell a bit more.”

“Maybe this is her out of her shell,” David joked.

“No. It’s not,” Killian muttered, his eyes still on Emma as she stood at the bar. “Well, you always knew her the best back then,” Mary Margaret shrugged. “She asked if you would be here tonight.”

His head whipped back to Mary-Margaret. “She did?”

“Yeah. Why do you think I was trying so hard to get you to come tonight?” David said, nudging Killian in the shoulder.

“I think you should go talk to her,” Mary Margaret said.

Killian sighed, looking towards the bar. “You’re right.”

With shaking hands he hoped no one noticed, Killian walked to her while simultaneously trying to figure out what to say.

“You always come after me,” Emma said as he approached, her back still to Killian as she waited for her refill.

“Old habits die hard, I suppose...” He took the place beside her, signaling Ruby for another drink.

“I’m a big girl, Killian.” Emma kept her eyes in front of her. “I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Killian said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of his voice.

Emma turned to him, anger and hurt written all over her face.“You have no right to talk to me like that.”

Killian turned to her. “Like what?”

“Like...Like somehow you were more affected by it than I was,” Emma all but growled.

“I’m not the one who left in the middle of the night,” he muttered, white knuckling his glass.

“You know better than anyone in this room why I had to leave. You do not get to hold that over my head, Killian.”

“I know why you had to leave, but what I don’t understand is why you never tried to contact me. No phone call, no letter. For ten damn years, Emma. And then you just come back here and I don’t know how to even begin processing that you’re back and you’re here and...” Killian trailed off, a lump in his throat and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“You think I don’t feel exactly what you’re feeling right now? Mary Margaret didn’t even know for sure if you were coming tonight.”

“And what if I hadn’t? Would you have even bothered to reach out if it wasn’t convenient for you?” Killian said, suddenly realizing he was shouting at her and the room had gone quiet, everyone staring at them in embarrassed curiosity.

“That fact that you have to ask that makes me wonder if I even knew you at all,” Emma said before she turned and stormed away.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma eased into her new job at Granny’s. The training went well and Granny was willing to work around Emma’s schedule: “If you ever feel like you need some time off to study or to go on a school trip, you come to me and I’ll make sure you get that time, honey,” Granny had told her, a firm yet gentle hand resting on Emma’s shoulder.

Her foster mother had even gone with Emma to the Bank of Storybrooke to help her open an account, “You’re almost grown up now,” she said. “You really should have your own checking account.” Mrs. Smith gave Emma’s clothes a once over. “Maybe it’s time for some new clothes, too. Every lady needs a good wardrobe.”

Emma had beamed; she had never had a foster mother offer to take her shopping for brand new clothes.

“Really?” Emma smiled. “Thank you so much.”

They walked down the street together towards the big boutique on Main Street and Emma couldn’t help but wonder...

Is this what it’s like to have a mom? Someone who offers to buy you clothes and helps you with all the scary financial stuff they should teach in school? Someone who wants to spend the afternoon with you? Without a house full of other children?

Emma couldn’t help the warm feeling in her chest as she and her foster mother drove home, then later as Mrs. Smith helped Emma organize her new clothes in her closet.

On Monday, Emma strode into study hall where she knew Killian would be waiting for her at their usual table. She was finally determined to put the past behind her; she had a new job, new wardrobe, and maybe even a new home—at least until graduation.

Maybe Emma could have a friend too?

“Hey,” she said, dropping down into the seat next to Killian.

“Hey,” he responded, a little awkwardly, which was understandable.

“Look, I’m sorry about Thursday. Sometimes I have a hard time when people try to get to know me.” She shifted uneasily in her seat.

“It’s okay, Emma,” he smiled gently at her. “But you should know I want to get to know you...beyond how much you despise Algebra II.”

Emma laughed quietly and blushed. “Okay, I think I can handle that,” she said as relief spread across her chest.

And just like that, Emma had officially made a friend. The first one she’d since she could remember.

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian felt awful watching Emma leave Granny’s. Regret pooled in his stomach at the way he had spoken to her, and it rooted him to the spot.

“So, that didn’t go well,” David said behind him.

Killian sighed and turned towards his friend. “Why did she come tonight?” Killian asked, paying no mind to how childish he sounded.

“It couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that she missed you, could it?”

“David, she didn’t even try to get in contact with me after she left. I stayed in this tiny town all these years. Never changed my address, my phone number, nothing. And she didn’t even try. So don’t give me that bullshit,” Killian finished bitterly before taking a long drink. The rum burned all the way down and settled uneasily in his belly.

“For a smart man, Killian, you really can be an idiot sometimes.” David sighed. “Go talk to her if you’re so hung up on why she hasn’t reached out to you all these years. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this is hard for her, too?”

“What makes you think you even know her?” Killian asked.

“Mary Margaret is persistent, she might know Emma almost as well as you do.” David shrugged as if that explained everything. “Now, I’m not going to pretend I know the full story of you and Emma. But I know that it would devastate both of you if you missed this opportunity to reconnect, all over a stupid argument you had ten years ago.”

Killian wanted to argue with David, but he knew his friend was right.

So instead, Killian downed the rest of his drink and sighed. “I think I know where she might be.”

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Once Emma and Killian became friends, they were nearly inseparable. He would sit in the diner during Emma’s shifts and afterwards they would go to his house and watch movies, do homework together, or just relax. Emma found herself telling him about everything; her past foster parents who saw her as nothing but a meal ticket, the old foster siblings that would bully and break her down until all she wanted to do was lock herself away and cry. She described the group homes, with the scratchy sheets and that musty smell that never seemed to go away.

The worst was the day Emma realized the couples looking to adopt never really stopped to look at her. Instead, they focused their attentions on the little ones—the ones who were still new and unhurt by the system. They didn’t want someone who’d spent most of her life in the system, someone who was almost eighteen and was far too sarcastic and jaded and damaged. Someone like Emma Swan.

And for each secret that Emma gave him, Killian gave her one of his own.

He told her how hard it was for him and Liam to get by and how Liam gave up a good position in the Navy just to take care of him. How Killian doubted he’d ever be able to repay Liam for everything he had sacrificed for him.

The swings on the playground halfway between Emma and Killian’s houses soon became their ‘spot.’ They would meet there and walk to school. Nights after Emma got off work, they would linger there on the swings, toes digging into the sand as they idled, talking and prolonging their time together before going their separate ways.

One night after Emma had gotten home from her shift, she saw her foster parents sitting at the dining room table, papers spread out in front of them and reading glasses low on their noses.

“Emma, could you come here for a moment?” her foster mother called as soon as Emma set foot in the house.

“What’s up?” Emma said, setting her backpack on the ground and sitting in one of the chairs opposite them.

It felt strange sitting at the table with them since she usually closed at Granny’s and had dinner at the diner with Killian. She ate lunch at school and in the mornings Emma was in such a rush that she only had time to grab a few granola bars out of the pantry before heading out the door.

“Well, we were going over our finances for the month,” her foster father started.

“And even with the money we’re getting from the state,” Mrs. Smith said, “it looks like this month is going to be a little tight.”

“Oh,” Emma said, ringing her hands underneath the table.

Is this it? Are they going to send me back? God, how could I have been so stupid, thinking I could have found a home?

Emma glanced back and forth between her foster parents.

“Sweetie, we don’t want to worry you, but with the new clothes and school supplies we bought you, it would be nice if we could get a little help,” Mrs. Smith continued, placing her hand on Emma’s shoulder.

“I can pay you back for the clothes,” Emma said quickly, an anxious knot forming in her chest.

“Could you? That would be wonderful,” she said with a smile.

But Emma still felt uneasy, despite her foster mother’s insistence that everything would be okay.

Storybrooke—Present Day

Killian’s feet pounded out the familiar path from Granny’s to the playground that stood between his and Emma’s old houses. He found her at the swings, listlessly swaying back and forth, her feet never leaving the ground.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, slightly out of breath as he sat in the swing next to her. It was a bit of a tight fit, but Killian managed.

“You know after you get yelled at by someone you don’t really want to sit next to them on a swing set,” Emma said, tone drawl as she looked away from him.

“Look, Emma,” Killian sighed, “I’m sorry I said all those things to you.”

“You were a real asshole back there.”

“You’re right, I was.” Killian looked down at his lap. “I just didn’t know what to say to you. I know that’s a shit reason and doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

“You know, it makes it hard to stay mad at you when you talk like Mr. Darcy,” Emma huffed.

“Aye, and I know that you’ll try your hardest to stay mad at me,” Killian smirked at her, catching her eye. Emma’s lips twitched up into the smallest of smiles, but Killian knew he was far from forgiven.

“That doesn’t mean that I’m letting you off the hook,” Emma said. “It wasn’t easy for me to come here tonight.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“It was just too hard to come back,” she explained. “I didn’t even tell Mary Margaret I was coming until I was in my car on the way here. Even then, I had to fight with myself to not turn my car right around and head back to Boston.”

“They aren’t here,” Killian said. Emma’s eyes snapped up at his words. “I don’t know if Mary Margaret told you, but both of them were arrested about a year after you left.”

“Serves them right,” Emma said, kicking the ground, “but that’s not entirely the reason I almost didn’t come.”

“Oh? What’s the other reason?”

“Come on, Killian, you know why.” Emma turned in her swing to face him, her eyes locking with his.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

A new quarter started and Emma could hardly believe she had made it this long with a new foster family. Both she and Killian had passed their midterms and Mr. Spencer had agreed that Emma was doing well enough that she didn’t need the required tutoring anymore.

“You know,” Emma said on their first day back from Spring Break, “you don’t have to keep hanging out with me in the new quarter. I officially don’t need a tutor according to the school.”

“Oh,” Killian said, looking down at his notebook. “I mean, I understand if you’d rather be doing other things during study hall, but if you wanted to keep studying together, that’d be cool too, I guess.”

“You still want to?”

“Of course I do,” Killian smiled, suddenly shy. “I mean, we’re friends. Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you for an extra hour a day?”

“You’re such a sap, you know that?” Emma smiled and sat down next to him.

“Only for you, love,” he grinned. “Are you working tonight?”

“No. Granny decided to let me have the day off since I worked so much during the break. Why?”

“Want to come over to my house and watch a movie?”

“Sure. I just have to stop by my house to grab a couple things real quick.”

The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough for Emma. She had been to Killian’s house plenty of times before, but she still couldn’t stop the small, excited flip in her stomach every time he asked her to hang out outside of school.

Killian walked Emma home, where Emma popped in to tell her foster mother where she was headed.

“Oh and, Emma?” Mrs. Smith called just before Emma was out the door. Emma had been afraid of that tone because she knew it well, and she knew what was coming next.

“Yes?”

“I hate to ask you again, but, well...You know how cold it’s been and we’ve been running the heat a little more than usual?”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Emma said, feeling her cheeks burn since Killian was standing right there by the front door and would undoubtedly have questions. “Can we do this later, though? Killian and I are on our way to his house to watch a movie.”

“Emma, why doesn’t your friend get a head start?” her foster mother suggested, a sudden coldness behind her eyes.

“It’s okay, Emma. I’ll meet you at the swings,” Killian said before backing out of the house.

“You know, I’d have thought you’d be a little more grateful,” Mrs. Smith said, looking down her nose at Emma.

Emma wrapped her arms around herself, feeling very small under the gaze of her supposed “guardian.”

“I am—” Emma began.

“We knew that taking in someone your age and with your history was going to be a challenge,” she continued. “And my husband and I are trying to make your life here comfortable. You must know how difficult it is for us to ask you to contribute. Our daughter worked all through high school and she was happy to share her earnings with us. Now, if you feel like you’re too good for that then maybe I should just call your social worker and we can see about getting you moved in with a better foster family.”

“No, no,” Emma shook her head, her throat tight and her eyes clouding with tears. “Please don’t call her. I promise I can contribute if that’s what you want me to do. How much do you need?”

“How much did you make in tips over school break?”

“About two-hundred dollars,” Emma admitted quietly.

“Perfect! I think one-hundred should be enough to help us. Thank you so much for contributing to the family, Emma.” Her foster mother wrapped her arms around her, but Emma felt no warmth in her embrace.

Emma felt her heart rise to her throat as she walked upstairs to her bedroom where she kept the jar with her tips. She counted out the money with shaking hands before going back downstairs and shoving the money into Mrs. Smith’s hands.

“I’ll be back later,” Emma said as she walked out the door, feeling a weight settle on her shoulders.

She tried to shake it before Killian could tell something was wrong.

“Hey, are you okay?” Killian asked when she finally made it to the swings.

“Just a disagreement with my foster mom, but it’s fine. I handled it,” she said. “Let’s just get to your house so we can watch a movie and eat too much popcorn.” She tried to laugh, but it came out hollow and forced.

“Really? Emma, does that happen a lot?” Killian asked, concern all over his face.

“Does what happen?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Your foster mother basically asking you to pay rent.”

Emma thought for a second about how easy it would be to just tell Killian everything, but telling Killian would probably just cause more problems. He would tell his brother, and God only knows what Liam would do.

“It only happens every once in a while,” Emma explained, looking at Killian’s forehead instead of his eyes. “But please promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this?”

“Emma—” Killian took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Just promise me,” Emma said, forcing herself to look into his eyes.

“Okay.” Killian still looked worried. “But if there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”

“I know that, but really it’s fine,” Emma said. “So what movie are we watching?”

“Princess Bride?” he offered.

Emma knew he was only suggesting it because it was her favorite, but she didn’t call him out on it since she could use the comfort of the classic.

“Only if I get to freely quote the movie no matter how annoying you think it is.”

“Deal,” he smiled reluctantly, and they sped off to his and Liam’s small cottage near the docks where they spent most of the afternoon watching movies and pelting each other with little popcorn kernels.

After The Princess Bride, they put in Pirates of the Caribbean since Emma still didn’t want to return to her house.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Killian asked as the credits rolled after the second movie.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Liam’s making spaghetti and it’s one of the few recipes he doesn’t mess up.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it’s simply an offer I can’t refuse.”

They both shared a quiet laugh and Liam came home not much later, a spark of recognition flashing across over his face when Killian introduced her to him.

“So you’re the Emma I’ve heard so much about,” Liam said. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Killian’s told you about me?” she asked, looking at Killian who was now a brilliant shade of pink.

“Can hardly stop talking about you,” Liam grinned.

“Okay, I think she gets it, brother,” Killian gritted through his teeth.

“Oh, so you’ve asked her to Spring Fling already then?” Liam asked. Emma gasped and looked over at Killian, who looked just as shocked.

“No, I hadn’t gotten a chance to yet, but thank you, Liam,” Killian growled.

“You were going to ask me to a dance?” Emma said, a nervous giggle erupting out of her mouth.

“Aye, before this git ruined it.” Killian blushed even harder.

“I’m only trying to help you out, little brother,” Liam said before leaving them for the kitchen.

“So the cat’s out of the bag, I suppose,” Killian said, scratching nervously behind his ear.

“Yeah, I guess I should get a dress then,” Emma smiled at him.

The grin that spread across Killian's face was the brightest that Emma had ever seen.

“You’re serious?”

“Of course. I’d love to go as friends,” Emma said.

She didn’t miss the flash of hurt across Killian’s face.

“As would I, Swan,” he smiled quickly.

They heard Liam calling to them from the kitchen, and less than an hour later they were having a delicious spaghetti dinner to celebrate.

But as Emma walked home from their house later that night, she couldn’t get Killian’s faltering smile out of her mind.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“What are you saying?” Killian asked her. “Killian, I don’t think it should surprise you that when I first met you I was really jaded towards the whole high school experience. I didn’t see the point of making friends because I was sure I was just going to be moved in a few weeks, so...what was the point?” She sighed, gathering her thoughts before she continued. “Then I met you and not only did you want to be my friend, but you wanted to be more.

“And that scared me more than I expected it to. And then you did what you did and...that just felt like a punch to the stomach.” Emma looked down at her hands, sniffling and blinking quickly. “It felt like you were trying to get me rehomed, which I know sounds crazy now, but I was so scared and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Emma, those people were financially abusing you. I couldn’t not say anything,” Killian said, reaching out to thread his fingers gently through her hair. He thought of the last time his hand had caressed those golden strands on that last night before she had disappeared.

“It wasn’t your secret to tell,” Emma said, pulling away from his touch.

“Aye, I know that now.” Killian looked down at his feet before looking up into her eyes once more. “I’m sorry, Swan. I never should have told anyone without coming to you first. You’re right, it was your secret to tell.” He took a deep breath and shook his head “I just couldn’t stand by and watch you be taken advantage of by those people. You deserved, you still deserve, to be treated with respect and kindness.”

Emma nodded. “I know now that what you did back then was for the best. Actually, I’m glad you did it because it means that those people are never going to get the chance to manipulate another child like me. Of course, at first, I was furious at you. That’s why I didn’t reach out.

“But as time passed, I was able to look back on the situation as an adult and I just felt so grateful and then so...guilty about what I said and how I left and...I did want to contact you. It was just that, so much time had passed that I was sure you had moved or changed your number. And even if you hadn’t, why would you take my call anyways? You probably hate me for the way I left.”

“I could never hate you, Swan,” Killian assured her.

“You sure?” Emma sighed. “I would hate me.”

“I’m not going to lie. I was angry for a long time and t I’ve let that go.” He shook his head. “But I could never hate you, love. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of you.”

Emma looked overwhelmed by his statement, her eyes wide and her lips parted as she tried to search for something to say. Finally, she settled with, “Good,” a small, nervous smile on her face.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma was going to a dance. Not only that, but Emma was going to a dance with a date.

A small part of her wanted to scoff that dances were lame and so was anyone who wanted to spend the night in an uncomfortable dress inside a gym that smelled like socks. But Emma couldn’t help feeling excited.

She finished up her shift at Granny’s, tip money and her paycheck burning a hole in her pocket as she wandered over to the boutique down the street from the diner. As she walked in, she saw some other girls her age shopping for dresses, each accompanied by their mothers. Emma felt a pit in her stomach; she didn’t want Mrs. Smith shopping with her because Emma knew her generosity came with a price. She felt it was best to simply use her own money to buy what she needed.

Emma began flipping through the seemingly endless racks of dresses, anxiety settling in her chest since she had no idea what she was even looking for.

“Emma!” someone called from one of the rows of dresses.

Emma looked over and saw it was Mary Margaret with her mother.

“Hi,” Emma smiled, suddenly grateful to have someone she could bounce ideas off of.

“What are you doing here? Are you going to the dance?” Mary Margaret asked excitedly.

“Yeah, I am actually. I assume you’re going too?”

“Definitely. My boyfriend David asked me today at lunch,” Mary Margaret said, looking over at the pile of dresses Emma had slung over her arm. “Is there someone helping you pick out a dress? Mrs. Smith?”

“Oh, um, no. It’s just me,” Emma said, hoisting her mountain of dresses higher up her arm.

“Did you want help, hon?” Mary Margaret’s mother offered.

“Oh no, it’s okay. Thank you, Mrs...”

“Blanchard. But please, call me Eva. And really, it’s no trouble at all. This place can be overwhelming.”

“No, really—” Emma began again.

“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Eva insisted with a warm smile.

Emma finally gave in and shopped with Mary Margaret and her mother, and she couldn't help but compare it to the time she and her foster mother had gone shopping. Instead of hurriedly shoving clothes at her, Eva carefully considered each girl’s selection of dresses with care and thoughtfulness before handing them a few to go and try on. Then she would sit patiently and ask for poses and spins from the both of them and Emma felt a contentedness she had never felt before as she and Mary Margaret picked out their dresses.

Emma realized that while she might not know what it was like to go shopping with her mom, she did know what it was like to shopping with a girlfriend. And she had loved every minute of it.

The days leading up to the dance flew by and before Emma knew it, she was in her bedroom the night of the big event, zipping up her dress and putting on her shoes. She stood in front of her mirror admiring her reflection, something she rarely did. The fuller, pale pink skirt of the dress almost made Emma feel like a princess, and she could practically see Killian and her moving together across the dance floor.

It made her stomach flip.

Emma heard her foster parents’ car start and back out of the driveway outside her window. She hadn’t mentioned the dance to either of them, hoping to avoid the awkward pictures they seemed to like taking, judging by the numerous photos they had of their daughter scattered across the mantle.

Emma grabbed her purse and after making absolutely sure they were gone, went to meet Killian at the swings.

“Wow, you look—” he started when she came into view, his eyes wide and a smile on his face.

“I know,” Emma blushed, grabbing his hand. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“You’re excited for this, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’ve never been to one of these things before. Don’t want to miss anything,” she said as they hurried down the street.

The dance was everything Emma could have wanted—she and Killian danced, they ate, they laughed; she never wanted the night to end. When the dance was officially over at half-past ten, Emma’s feet hurt, she was tired, breathless, and had never been happier.

“Thank you for this,” she said as he walked her home. Emma had told him she could walk on her own, but he had insisted.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “Did you have a good time?” He looked down somewhat sheepishly.

“Of course I did,” Emma said, taking his hand again. “I couldn’t have asked for a better night.”

“Me either,” he said with a small grin of his own.

They had reached her door, but Emma wasn’t ready to say goodbye and it seemed Killian wasn’t either.

“Do you know what would make it just a bit better though?” he asked.

“What?”

“A kiss, maybe?”

“You want to kiss me?” Emma asked, her heart beating so fast she was sure Killian could hear it.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.”

Emma didn't know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

She’d had other kisses before, but none of them had ever made her feel like this. She was completely weightless and her knees went weak as she leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her and as they broke apart, her hand found his collar and she gripped it like her life depended on it. His hand caressed her face before catching a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger.

“That was...” Killian breathed, his voice gravelly and hoarse.

“Something we’ll have to do again sometime,” Emma finished as she took a step back. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Monday? Yeah, th-that sounds great...Yeah, I’ll see you then.” Killian stumbled over

his words, his cheeks flushed and his smile bright.

Emma smiled and walked up the pathway to her front door, feeling like her feet were barely touching the ground.

She opened the front door as quietly as she could, taken by surprise when the living room light flicked on.

“How was the dance?” Mrs. Smith was sitting there on the sofa, hands folded in her lap, and contempt dripping from her words.

“It was fine,” Emma said, starting up the stairs and hoping to avoid whatever tirade was about to come.

“And that dress, is it new? The shoes? The makeup?” her foster mother continued to question.

“I paid for it all myself, with the money I got from Granny’s,” Emma explained, halting halfway up the stairs.

“How nice.” Mrs. Smith stood. “And while you were out, did you happen to tell anyone about our little arrangement?”

“What?”

“I got a call today from your social worker.” Mrs. Smith crossed her arms thoughtfully and tilted her head. “She was concerned that we were stealing money from you. Now, who would have told her something like that?”

“I don’t kn—”

“Your little boyfriend, that’s who,” Mrs. Smith snapped, following Emma up the stairs. “Did you tell him about our arrangement?”

“No, of course not,” Emma said, tears stinging her eyes.

“Bullshit. You’re not as dumb as you look. You think I didn’t know there was a dance tonight?”

“I-I—”

“I-I-I...Maybe you are stupid,” Mrs. Smith sneered. “Maybe that’s why no one wanted you.” She was towering over Emma, her eyes snapping down to Emma’s dress. “This piece of trash isn’t even worth the money you paid for it. You wasted a good hundred bucks buying all of this shit. Money I could have used.”

“It’s my money!”

“NO, IT’S NOT!” Mrs. Smith roared. “You live in my house, you eat my food, you wear the clothes that I bought for you. You owe me that money for everything I do for you!”

Emma could only stare up at her, unable to speak or move as Mrs. Smith shook with anger. Then, after a moment she said, “Get out.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I said, get out! Go down to the bank and withdraw every penny you spent on this night and pay it back to my family. Then leave.”

“But I don’t have enough to do that!”

“Well then, we’ll have to make another arrangement. How about no food for a week? Or you can sleep in the garage and freeze. I don’t care! Whatever it takes, you are paying me back!’ Mrs. Smith grabbed Emma’s arm and forced her down the stairs. She tried to struggle but ended up twisting her ankle on the bottom step.

Emma limped out of the house, her mind racing with a million thoughts. She knew there was no way she was going to continue living in that house; she’d rather live at her old foster home.

Tears started falling down her face as she wondered how she could have been so stupid, thinking she might have actually found a family.

Emma looked back and saw the tree that nearly touched her bedroom window and before Emma knew what she was doing, she was climbing the tree. Breaking into her room was easy enough—she never bothered locking her window and the screen popped out easily. Emma quickly and quietly gathered all of her precious possessions —an old tattered copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, a mood ring she’d won from a claw machine, the baby blanket she’d been found in—and shoved all of them in a duffel bag. She looked down at her dress before gently pulling it over her head and folding that into her bag as well. Emma dressed in jeans and a sweater and, taking care not to make any noise, carefully climbed back out the window.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“How’s Liam, by the way?” Emma asked. “I feel really awful for the way I spoke to him.”

The question, as innocent as it seemed, hit Killian like a punch to the gut. Although he’d answered this question plenty of times before, it never made it any easier.

“Liam’s gone. There was an accident at the cannery about a year after you left.”

“Oh my God, Killian. I’m so sorry.” Emma reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s...well it’s not alright, but it’s—” Killian struggled to find a way to put his feelings into words.

“I understand,” Emma said. “Are you okay?”

“I suppose. I worked at the cannery after graduation to help pay for college. Same accident took this from me too.” Killian held up his prosthetic hand.

Without hesitation, Emma gently took his prosthetic hand in hers, studying it for a few minutes. Her eyes flickered back up to his and they reflected the sorrow that Killian still felt in his heart.

He pulled his hand back from her and cleared his throat.

“The settlement money helped put me through school and now I’m a teacher at our alma mater.” He tipped his prosthetic towards her and tried to grin.

“I feel awful—” Emma started.

“Well, don’t. None of this is your fault.”

“But I’ll never get to apologize to him.”

“It’s okay, really. He understood. He just...always wanted to help people, you know? He thought he was doing what was right.”

“He did. If it wasn’t for him, that family would have kept bleeding me dry.” She paused, and then with a small smile added, “Plus, if it wasn’t for Liam, you probably never would have asked me out.”

“Hey, I had something very romantic planned. The bugger just had to ruin it,” Killian laughed. And to his relief, so did Emma.

Storybrooke—10 Years Ago

Emma stood outside of Killian’s house, trying to figure out which window was his, having never been in his bedroom before. Her duffel bag was at her feet and her pockets were full of the money she had just emptied out of her account.

Once Emma figured out which window to aim for, she began tossing small rocks at it until Killian, bleary-eyed and hair ruffled from sleep, opened the window.

“Swan, what’s going on?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Did you tell anyone?” Emma tried to keep herself from shouting.

“Tell anyone what? Emma, what’s wrong?”

“My foster mother got a call from my social worker. Someone told her about her taking my waitressing money.”

“I didn’t call her,” Killian said, hand coming up to run through his hair. “Liam—” he started hesitantly but stopped when a light flicked on behind him. Emma could barely hear Liam enter Killian’s room, but Killian didn’t tear his eyes away from her. “Why don’t you come inside?” he asked.

Emma waited impatiently for Killian to come and open the front door before storming inside and right up to Liam. “Did you call CPS?”

“Emma…” Liam started softly.

“Did you call CPS?” she demanded again.

“Yes, okay? The Smiths weren’t treating you right,” Liam said. “I was in high school with their daughter. She didn’t work a day in her life; they lied to you. Her mum and dad paid for everything. Those two are already getting money to foster you, they don’t need to be taking your money too.” Liam crossed his arms over his chest and stood straight, not backing down.

“You ruined everything!” Emma tried to blink away the tears that were clouding her vision.

“Swan...” Killian stepped towards her and tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she twisted out of his reach.

“And you!” Emma turned her anger towards him. “Why did you tell him in the first place?!”

“Because you needed help,” Killian said, voice shaking.

“I don’t need you or your brother to save me! I’ve been taking care of myself my whole life and I can keep doing it without either of you!” Emma turned on her heel and walked out of the Jones brothers’ cottage without looking back.

“Swan! Please wait,” Killian said, running after her. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know...somewhere. Anywhere is better than here,” Emma snapped, grabbing her bag off the ground.

“Please, just stay here with us. We can help you.” Killian grabbed hold of her arm and Emma looked into his eyes, eyes that were almost completely colorless in the moonlight. Eyes that only a few hours ago she had never wanted to look away from.

“I don’t want your help,” Emma growled, wrenching her arm out of his grip. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and turned around without looking back.

By the time the sun rose, Emma had walked through most of Storybrooke to get to the bus station, where she had spent the last few hours. She had a one-way ticket to Portland, Maine and from there she would find another place to run to since running was what she was good at. She wasn’t the girl who got to enjoy school dances or made Honor Roll. She wasn’t the girl that could have a boyfriend. She was a runaway—just a kid practically forgotten by the system, unloved and unlovable.

These were the thoughts running through Emma’s mind as she took her seat on the bus and leaned her head against the window.

“Ticket, please?” the bus driver asked as he walked the aisle. “Are you okay?” The concern in his voice caught her off guard.

“Yeah, why?” Emma answered, handing him her ticket.

“You’re crying,” he said.

Emma reached up and felt her cheek, wet with fresh tears.

“Oh, it’s just allergies. I promise.” Emma forced a shaky laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. The bus driver appeared unconvinced but moved on to the next passenger anyway.

Emma slumped into her seat and leaned back, the tears free-flowing down her face no matter how much she willed them to stop. As the bus roared to life and pulled out of the bus station, Emma turned to get one last look at Storybrooke. The smaller the town became behind her, the more Emma realized how much she wanted Killian to be in the seat next to her, running off to wherever it was she was headed next.

Storybrooke—Present Day

“Can I ask you one more question?” Killian asked as their laughter faded.

“Shoot.”

“Are you staying the night here?” Killian blushed, realizing how forward he sounded.

Emma nodded. “I am, actually. I got a room at Granny’s.”

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“No,” Emma smiled. “Not yet.”

“Good. Good,” Killian nodded. “Well, I’m actually very busy,” he said. Emma laughed and gave his shoulder a small shove. “But I think I can take you to dinner if you would like?” he added shyly.

“I think I would like that,” Emma smirked at him. “But I need to know for sure.”

“And how will you do that?” Killian asked, realizing that their faces were now mere inches apart.

“I have an idea,” Emma whispered before leaning in.

Their lips met and Killian’s mind went wonderfully and blissfully blank of all thoughts that didn’t involve the woman in his arms. All he could think, feel, smell was Emma—her hair, her skin, her lips.

He drank her in then, as he did that night all those years ago.

“Are you sure now?” Killian asked as they broke apart.

“I’m very sure,” Emma chuckled. “We talked about the past all night. I think tomorrow we can talk about the present, and maybe even the future.”

Killian smiled and leaned in once more, their kiss sealing a promise to let the past go and to look finally towards the future.

Together.

#cslb #captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs fic #cs crew #my fic #it's finished yall #it is DONE!#tw financial abuse #tw verbal abuse

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