FicWad

Sun’s POV
We arrive at Death Defyings a few minutes later, eating our dinner of taco in a bag. It’s strange, sometimes, how much I missed the little things from the Academy. Taco in a bag, dessert night where we got caramel sauce and apples or even ice cream with sprinkles… the way the mountains looked in the mornings, how the ground had a haze over it. Death had just hooked me up to an IV and taken blood, and was giving me vitamins in horse-pill sized doses. Pre-natal and all sorts of other medicines went down my throat.

“Do you want an ultrasound?” Violet asks me. “I know a guy who could do one. In the towns. No biggy, he’s a ‘joy, like us, but if you don’t want to…” I shake my head at her. I’d know if the baby was sick. “You don’t even wanna know the gender for sure?”

“It’s a baby girl, I promise you that much.” I say bluntly, but with a small smile on my face that showed I knew something they didn’t. Not that I could tell them. Even Infernal, who HEARD voices on a REGULAR basis, would tell me I needed medication. They’d say grief; they’d say anything except that maybe my baby was special. Did mods like mine transfer to my child? I’d wondered about this very idea for nights and nights at a time, and my head could never seem to agree. Did they fuse my genes? Or did they extract my DNA and replace it? Either gave me a chance that… the baby’s other set of chromosomes would override mine. Surely my modifications can’t be dominant? We’d been here for hours, it was night time now. We’d all come and gone several times, and were now all here, enjoying our instructor privliges. In this case, it meant comfy chairs and couches, hot chocolate with mini marshmellows, and popcorn.

Frank is sitting next to me. “We need to plan a memorial service.” He looks about, grabbing my hand. I squeezed his, resting my other one on the side of the couch I was on, letting the IV give me solutions and medicine and vitamins. “Would anybody want to lead it?”

“I will.” I immediately volunteer. Everyone stops what they’re doing. Violet drops her hand (where she’d been nervously chewing her pinky nail), Infernal stops literally twiddling her thumbs, Northern Lights stops staring into space and watching his brother (who has dropped his sketchbook of what appears to be baby clothes and designs for a crib…). Mikey has stopped reading a book on babies with Frank, letting it fall to the floor. Everyone has stopped themselves mid-action. “what?”

“Neon, you couldn’t even say his name without bawling. You still turn into a scary lady when someone brings his name up.” His brother points out.

I sigh. “I understand that, but I need to grow up and pull on my big girl shorts.” I say, even though I’m fighting back tears.

Violet saves me. “I think we should all say a bit. We can have the kids all make lanterns or something and paint them and release them from the Academy. Sun can sing, if she feels up to it. Infernal can be the comic relief, Cyanide can make sure our hair is perfect, everything we could ever want in a memorial can be done. I’m sure we can produce a few pieces of wood for an empty casket. We can have the kids paint it and hold a competition or something, HE would have loved a good competition. Neon Sun, you don’t need to show up if you don’t want to.” I nod.

Show Pony skates out and unhooks me from the machine attached to my arm, disposing of the needle in a needle box we have. “Look, I got good news and bad news. Which you want first?”

“Bad.” I say.

“You underestimated. You’re 5 months along.” He replies.

“Well, that’s not bad at all!”

“Good news your baby is perfectly fine, from what I can tell. I took some samples, and the baby is perfectly in working order. You’re fine. All you need is nourishment, and I literally just pumped you full of vitamins and protein. Your baby will make up for any weight it may have not gained, due to your unfortunate imprisonment.” He smiles. “congratulations, you’re gonna be a mommy!”

I standup, letting Frank’s hand go, now noticing he’d been rubbing my hand with his thumb. “Guys!” I say, and lift my shirt to just under where my bra line ended, mid sternum. “Look!” I say, and turn to the side. Mikey flies up.

“Is that a baby bump?!?”

Infernal is next to comment. “Hell yeah!” I laugh at her interest in my bump. “You finally got fat! You never get fat!” I roll my eyes at her. “You get all the cool mods, but never get fat! Finally, Sun has gotten FAT!” She seems overjoyed, but maybe she’d just had to much medicine….

Cyanide is smiling again, his brother just STARING at my bump like I had a second head there instead of a small baby. Violet approaches me carefully. “Can I touch it?” She asks. I nod, and she puts a hand there. Ella starts fluttering, she must’ve been asleep. I can feel her moving around a bit, and it’s a strange sensation. “I’m Auntie Violet. And you’re totally gonna kick ass.” She says, and then stands up, walking to her room in the Diner. Infernal just pokes my belly button and giggles, running away in glee, shouting about how I’d gotten fat. She runs around, yelling excitedly. Northern Lights just stared at her quietly, chuckling every so often. Infernal would tire herself out like that, with any luck.

Mommy? Who’s the lady yelling about you getting fat? My baby says, having woken up, it seems.

Auntie Infernal, my sweet baby. She’s a little different. I try not to outwardly laugh.

I like her. Can I go back to sleep now? And just like that, she does.

We sit down, and start eating some more, Death having gotten us buffalo meat from somewhere, which I was eating in the form of a steak, cooked medium-rare and a thing of mashed potatoes next to it on the plate. No clue where Death had gotten the side, but I wasn’t fighting it. I munch happily, the steak perfectly cooked to my taste. Well, it could’ve been a bit rarer, but I had a baby to consider. Hopefully she’d get the nourishment she needed.

“Sunshine, you need to start planning for a baby. You have 4 months until that little one is squalling.” Cyanide points out to me rather blatantly. Violet and the rest have rejoined us. Infernal is offering me some of her food, still gleeful over my new found weight gain. It was nice seeing her smile. “So… names?” I hadn’t really thought of any names, but I’d been calling my baby Ella for quite sometime. She didn’t feel like an ella, but it was a pretty name. “I hope you have a little baby girl!”

Violet smirks “oh god, with YOU as an Uncle? That girl will be strutting around in heels before someone can cut the freakin’ cord.” We all laugh. “She’ll come OUT dancing and throwing glitter at us!” More jokes are made, and we all get a much needed break from sadness.

We all chat for a bit about names, and silly ones get thrown around, like McAwesome. Which would be a SUPREME middle name to give a kid, especially one who would grow up here. We’ve all finished our dinner about twenty minutes after this, and slumped back in our chairs after seconds and thirds (thirds in Violet and I’s case.)

“So.” Northern Lights says it. “I’ll be…. Planning the memorial? Two weeks from today, it’d be best.” We all nod, and I sniffle back tears, drinking my water to hide the noise. “and I like the lantern idea. Sun, would you be up to singing?”

I think for a moment. “I’ll get a group of the joys together, my singers. We can work a medley out.”

Violet thinks for a moment. “I’ll take the painters and drawers out, have them all sketch ideas for a design on the empty casket. I know where we can get the wood, I’ll do an old fashioned one. Like the vampires used in movies.”

Cyanide Killer speaks up. “I can manage wardrobe for all of us.” We all laugh a bit, though the mood is signifigantly darker than it was a few minutes before. “Sun, we’ll have to redo your hair, though… it’s still black. So… um… I don’t know there.”

I laugh and rake a hand through it. It was still jet black, choppy layers, long bangs that were side swept. “I’m sure we can do some kind of… something.”

Violet speaks up, setting down her rum and coke. “Well, as you’re the closest thing he would have had to a widow, I think we’ll get you that netting stuff, like in the old times.”

Cyanide’s eyes go wide when he sees me start to bawl. “Violet!”

She slaps a hand over her mouth, realizing what she said. “oh, Neon, I didn’t mean to!”

I cry, head in my hands, and get up, running from the room, bursting out the door, and unfurling my wings with a snap. I lift off and zoom in the light of the moon, flying to my block. I stumble on the landing, and snap my wings back in, yowling in pain as I got used to the sensation. I bust straight into my room, and pick something up, chucking it across the room. I hear a car engine, but keep throwing things around.

“why?!?” I ask, throwing a picture frame at the wall, the glass shattering loudly. “What the hell, Party?!?” More picture frames, a vase, some pottery. “You promised me forever!” I’m sobbing, and sink to my knees, arms around myself, and lay on my side, amid broken glass, pottery, paint, anything that had been at hand. “You promised me…” I say, sniffling and continuing to sob. “why didn’t you keep fighting?” I ask to nobody.

“Angel, I tried so hard.” A voice says, and I snap my head around, frantically searching for its source. “I’m over here, angel.” It says, and I look to my bed. There, sitting on my bed like nothing was wrong, was my Party Poison. I scream. I scramble to my knees, then my feet, trying to not step on any broken glass. “It’s fine, angel, I’m here now.”

“You’re dead!” I scream at the figure. “You left me all alone. Three freaking months pregnant with YOUR baby!”

“Honey… it’s gonna be fine. Come sit by me.” Party says. I go and do as he told me, and put my hand where his lays, open palm facing towards the ceiling. “I miss you so much.”

“Then come back.”

“Angel, you know I can’t. You know that.” He says, and I could swear he’s crying. “I miss you so, so much. I wanted to fight bu-”

I stop him, squeezing his hand in anger. “Why didn’t you?!? I NEED you!” I’m yelling again, and he waits for me to finish my tirade patiently. “Our BABY needs you! What’s she gonna do, just not have a dad?!?”

“So marry Ghoul. You two were a good match.” He says calmly.

“NO!” I scream at him, crying again. “I only ever wanted to marry you! I won’t marry anyone else! And I can’t freaking marry a CORPSE, now can I?!?” I ask it angrily, voice rising in pitch. He hugs me close, petting my hair. I carefully lay down, head in his ap. He lays down, behind me, and wraps his arms around me. “why did you have to leave…” I trail, crying softly. “We didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

“I know… I wanted to… I wanted to see you so damn much when they were doing it… there were so many dracs, I didn’t have my gun…” he’s just holding me, rubbing our baby. “Is that a baby bump?” he asks, voice sounding a tad more excited. I nod, and he chuckles. “What are you, four, five months?”

“Five.” I answer. “Doctor D just confirmed it. Five months, I refused to know the gender, and the baby is in perfect condition, a little skinny, but that’s it. We talked names. Violet thinks McAwesome would be perfect.” He laughs again, and it comforts me.

“What happened to the platinum blonde and colors?” He asks. I kinda shake with a giggle. “And your eyes. They aren’t purple!”

“When you… left…. The hair went black, the eyes-” He stops me.

“Just like mine.” He says. I nod, and he kisses my forehead like he always did before we went to sleep at night, and how he did to wake me up every morning. “Well, you’re still beautiful. Perfect in every sense.” I blush. He kisses my cheek. My eyes change, I feel it. “Look! They’re purple again!” he says with a chuckle. “Purple eyes and black hair. It’s good on you.” I blush again. “You’re a little blushing machine today. Must be the hormones from our baby.”

“Party?” I ask, after a few minutes of silence. “How are you here if you’re… if you’re..” I can’t say it. I won’t say it.

“Dead?” He asks, and it sends me into tears again, he turns me to him, holding me close. “Sh, angel, no tears…”

“How are you here? Holding me? Talking to me?” I ask again, head in his chest. He smells just like I remember.

“It’s simple.” I wait for his answer. “You’re imagining this. All of it. I love you, angel. Stay strong, stay safe.” And just like that, he evaporates, like mist, into the air.

“Sun?” A voice asks, and it snaps me back to reality. “Sun you’re all bloody!” I snap my head around, it’s Cyanide. “Sunnie, who were you talking to?”

I shake my head quickly, and swallow. “Nobody. Myself.”

He approaches me carefully, keeping his boots on. “I’ll sweep up the glass. Then, you’re getting a bath. We need to clean your body up. And I’m gonna start cleaning all your clothes. You guys have SO much laundry that needs to be done!” He goes to sweeping, tying on an apron he’d somehow found in the Diner and taken with him. I lay on the bed, all alone, looking at my bloodied hands and feet, the porcelain skin stained pink and crimson. Shards of glass were embedded, my hands throbbing in time with my pulse.

Cyanide is done, ready to get me into the bath. He’s running it, and comes back out to collect me. “Sit up.” He says. I do as he says, moving slowly, zombie like. Cyanide coos calming things to me about the baby, as he picks the glass out of my feet and hands, using tweezers and hydrogen peroxide Dr.Death Defying could get for us in the towns. “So… any ideas for names?”

“Fia… Helena… Zia… Azura…” I list random names. “Ella… Minx…” I say, laughing a bit, wincing as a long chunk is pulled from my skin. Peroxide is dumped on it, making it tingle and bubble pleasantly.

“How about colors for the baby’s room?” Cyanide asks, working on my hands, and running to shut the water off before it overflows. Frank and I, long ago, had found an old bunch of cool bathtubs in a garbage dump, and had taken them to the Academy, and cleaned them up, hooking them to the water supply, and sterilizing the tubs themselves. I’d taken a black clawfoot tub with golden feet, made to look like lion heads. Cyanide easily picks me up, and lifts me into my bathroom. He lets me undress privately, and then I climb in, sinking neck deep into steaming hot water. My hair is tied up off my neck and face, in a messy bun on the top of my head. Using a bit of energy, I “sparkle” it so it doesn’t get in the water. I sigh, and Cyanide comes in, a chair with him. He just sits on the chair, facing away from me. Another sigh, closing my eyes, my head leaned back against the edge. “I was thinking a calming pink and crème set up if it’s a girl. If it’s a boy, I’m thinking a nice sky blue and light yellow.” I laugh a bit. “What, I’m just saying! These are things I’d think about 4 months out.”

I smile, happy to take my mind off things for a bit. My hands go to my bump, and rest there. Stella is awake. She’s just kinda there, though. Not talking to me, and I’m not talking to her. I’m just resting my hands there, feeling where she is approximately. “Ryan, you’ll make a lovely uncle. And yes, you can paint the room with me. But first, the baby will stay in the crib right next to my bed.”

“We’ll all run baby duty. I’ll have a monitor for all of us. We’ll all take turns getting up with the little bitty baby. Rocking her, feeding her-”

I stop him. “um, I’ll have to pump out milk for bottles then, I guess.” He nods, laughing.

“Oh sweetie, that baby is gonna have it so good. Little thing isn’t even out yet and she has all of us ready and excited for her arrival. I hope it’s a girl. I’ll put little bows in her hair and gosh she’s gonna be SO adorable!” Yep. That’s Cyanide. Typical gay-guy voice. I’m pretty sure there was a wrist movement in there too. I laugh even more, and Stella giggles in my head. “Oh, Sun, you’re gonna be a great mom. You do great with little kids.” He says. I smile, thank him, and close my eyes again. “Relax, enjoy a hot bath. I’d get you a glass of wine, but I have to learn where the alcohol is, and you can’t drink with the baby. They tested for fetal alcohol syndrome and it came up negative, thank god.” I breathe a sigh of relief, and sink lower in the water, glad for it’s scalding warmth. Ryan looks around. “how bad are your legs?”

I look at one, extending it from the water, parallel to the surface of the water. “Not bad. Still blonde. I’ll need to shave it soon.” I say, and he sighs.

“Better now than later.” He hands me my razor, and a can of shaving cream. “For shaving your legs ONLY.” I set to work, and soon , my bath is draining, and my legs are as smooth as butter. Mm, butter on toast… sounds good.

“Cravings?” Ryan asks, handing me a towel. I dry off, step out of the tub, and get dressed in yoga pants and a loose cropped tank top Cyanide has set out for me. “What do I need to go search out?”

“Um… I kinda want…” It takes me a moment. “Bacon. And… chocolate icecream? With marshmellow and Carmel and…peanut butter? And some tacos with guac. And sour cream!” I’m getting excited now. It was Cyanide Killer. Her could find anything. He laughs, puts me in bed, starts a movie on the projector in my room. Instructor perk. You get a projector, a screen or wall painted white and a selection of movies that lived in a Block to choose from. You sign it out, and sign it back in with whoever was in charge that month. Ryan had picked me something funny. Some of the upperclassjoy’s were aloud them, but only for the Block, not the individual. They break it, they get horrible repercussions. There was only so much of whiz kid tech Killjoy could fix. Scratched disks took some time. “Cyanide?” I call out. He’d moved across my Block, to a door that sperated my bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom.

“What honey boo child?” He asks, and I can hear him whipping things up in the kitchen, meat sizzling, him searching for taco shells. “Is something wrong?” he ask, and I can smell actual beef cooking. Had we gotten our fridges stocked? When did that happen? “Oh! The KIT’s killed a cow! They got beef for you! You have tons in the fridge and the freezer! The freezer’s top three racks are all meat!” He says excitedly. “Chicken, beef, fish… TUNA!” He says. “OH.MY.GOD. They found you tuna! That’s like, costal only!” Another gasp from him. “THEY GOT YOU ICE POPS TOO!” He may’ve just squealed, I’m already laughing to hard to notice.

I wait for him to stop freaking out over my now stocked freezer. “Can you stay and watch the movie with me? Have girly time? We can do each other’s nails? Maybe do each other’s hair too?” I ask. He pops his head out the door. I have a small, hoepfull smile on my face. “Like, you know… how we used to?”

He smiles and nods excitedly. “I wasn’t gonna just LEAVE you! We’ll talk baby stuff, I’ll draw some patterns for clothes for both genders, we’ll sketch a crib design so the kids can build it, we can do each other’s hair, with non toxic stuff, of course. Gotta keep your lil joy safe and sound in there!” He dips his head back in the kitchen. I wait a good thirty minutes. “Did I mention I’ve got Sweeny Todd for us to watch? And Mean Girls! I know it’s you’re favorite!” I smile a bit, rubbing my bump. It was. I loved Mean Girls. It always made me laugh. Always. Cyanide emerges from my small little kitchen carrying a tray with a napkin, a dish of chocolate ice cream with all the toppings AND rainbow sprinkles and whipped cream, a pickle in a little dish, a thing of bacon, and two soft tacos with everything I asked for. I happily accept the tray, which is laden with other things, like fruit and a thing of peanut butter with apple slices. Cyanide even managed to make me a non-alcoholic pina colada. Upon tasting said chilly wonderful slurptastic drink, I nearly peed my pants in joy. Cyanide Killer props us both up with all the pillows known to my Block, getting us both nice and comfy, before stealing part of my ice cream with his own spoon. I tolerate this, because the chef always gets some of his own dish, in my book. He starts the movie, and I eat everything he brought me a good thirty minutes in, including the water and vitamins he put out. I lay the empty tray on the floor, and lay down with him under my blanket.

“um… Where am I sleeping tonight? I don’t have a Block yet…” he says. I squeak, remembering I hadn’t assigned him a place to live. “Can I be in one close to my brother?” He asks. I nod, considering where to put him.

“I’ll let you pick a Block out tomorrow with him, so you can get adjacent ones. Some of them link together. All of them are a bit different. Like, Frank’s is a bit smaller bedroom wise, but has a bigger kitchen. And a nice window in the kitchen. I have my windows in the bathroom and the bedroom.” Cyanide nods, and we move closer, snuggling almost. Snuggling in a completely friendly way, because I kept my Block freezing. As the movie goes on, we switch so he’s sitting behind me, and he starts experiementing with braids in my hair. We find it hard to braid, considering how short it is. Shoulder length was too short, but frankly, changing it wsa just… not happening. I just wasn’t going to try. This was my morning.

Soon enough, the movie is over, Cyanide and I both quoting from it liberally, while he paints my nails bright red with black hearts with a bas and treble clef going through it on the thumb, and random music notes on my other fingers. He took his time, making sure they were given two topcoats, and a nice protein enchancer. “You need to take better care of yourself. Your baby will learn it’s habits from it’s mommy.”

“Well, with as many gay guys as we have here, you included in that-” he stops me.

“Excuse me, I am THE gay guy!” he says with a laugh. I smile happily. He finishes my hands, and goes to work on my toes, which he keeps a nice French manicure with some silver glitter under where the white starts. I had no clue I had these many colors and kinds of polish. “The Queen of all Queens!”

After Mean Girls, it’s Sweeny Todd. I try singing along, but the words have been forgotten. By the end of the movie, I’m half asleep, Ryan holding me in a way that conotates loving, but not romantic love. Friendly, innocent love. Not I wanna bang you love. I’m falling asleep, and he sits for a moment, staying with me. I drift off into a dream world, already hearing Party Poision calling my name and laughing. As the dream starts to take over, I don’t even notice Cyanide Killer leaving me, putting a blanket over me and a pillow for me to hold.

Cyanide Killers POV
I leave Sun there, and go and knock on my brothers block and tell him to save the upper bunk for me. He would, I knew it. And then, I start walking, seeing some mountains a few miles away. I see Sun’s car. The keys ar eon the seat. She won’t mind if I take it. I’ll be careful. After hoping in and adjusting the seat so I can see properly, I start the engine, let it warm up to a nice purr, and start driving in the direction of the mountains, already happily planning the baby’s room. A few months, he or she would be in this big, mad, scary world. And I’d be damned if there wasn’t glitter involved.

Mikey's POV
I needed to get away. I'd needed to when Neon had been hand-holding with Fun Ghoul. Dr. Death Defying had seen this, and when everyone else had cleared out, I'd sat at the old counter at the Dine, nursing the whiskey he'd given me. The countertop was dusty, a little bit grimey in the nicks in the counter from knifes sharpened there, dropped on it. This counter had seen so much, and we, the Instructors, considered the Diner to be our second home. Sometimes our first, when the Blocks needed to be fixed up. Pipes burst, roofs can collapse... the Blocks were small, usually sturdy. But things were bound to happen. Swirling the liquid smoothly around the ice in the glass, I sigh. Death was doing his show, and Pony was probably asleep. I sip a bit, then some more. I miss my brother. I miss having somebody to hold hands with. I hate being alone. The love life of the Kobra Kid had been anything but existent, as of late. I chuckle at my own stupid half-joke, nearly choking on the whiskey I was in the middle of sipping. When the glass is set down, the condensation on it suctioning it to the countertop, I rest my head in my hands and think. I missed having someone. I didn’t even have my brother to talk to. That reminds me of my spot in the mountains, causing me to finish my drink, and head out. The Death Machine is there, and I hop in, buckle up, and speed off for the mountains.

I arrive, parking quickly, and beginning my way up the mountain. It isn’t a far climb, not very high, not very steep. But there’s a ledge, a good 100 feet from the bottom, with some trees and a rock or two. I make my way to part of the ledge, laying the blanket I’d found in the back of the Death Machine down on the ground. I smoothe out the creases and lay myself down, groaning at the feeling of some rocks that were poking into my back. Not painful, just a slight uncomfortable feeling. SO, as I lay there, I look up at the stars. I could swear I hear footsteps after nearly an hour of silence, during which I’ve counted the stars what feels like a million times. I could swear I hear the steps of boots crunching against pebbles on the ground. I ignore it, deciding I was drunk enough to have my mind play tricks on me.

“oh!” A voice says, and I snap up, hastily snapping up on my feet, hand on my gun. “Don’t shoot! It’s me. Cyanide Killer.” I relax, wave him over. He walks over, looking down at the blanket. I’ve sat back down, look at him, and then pat the spot next to me, inviting him to sit. “You sure?”

“I could use some company” I say to him, a small smile on my face. “I get lonely sometimes.”

“Yeah, me too. Hard not to, with everyone coupled up.” He replies.

I loo at him, after spending the next two hours talking. We’ve moved closer to stay warm, and I even hand him my jacket, as he was shivering. He was so skinny, he obviously needed the warmth. He smiled at me in a way that made my entire body feel warm. I recall almost immediately that this wasn’t the first time he’d made me feel like this. Maybe it was the whiskey, I tell myself. Eventualy, we leave, parting ways in our separate cars. Before we go, I walk up, move close, and hug him. He looks a tad bit disappointed, but I tell myself I’m drunk, and it may be the light of the sliver of a moon. When I’m back in my block, I fall asleep, replaying my conversation with Cyanide Killer a million times, making me feel warm inside again.

This time, I’m sure it isn’t from the whiskey.


A/N Hey guys!

I’M SORRY I’VE NOT UPDATED IN FOREVER. My laptop, it basically died in the WORST way, and then my dad had to fix it and reclean it and build it again. Thank god I had everything on a flash drive, or I would’ve lost all of my fiction! I promised an extra update, that’ll be up soon. Ryan, I hope you love this. I’m dedicating this chapter and the next one to you. Because you’re awesome. Hell, anybody who’s stuck around this long is awesome. We’re nearing the end. Only a few chapters left. And then…. THE SEQUEL. HELL YEAH. A SEQUEL. PART TWO. PART DOS. PART DUEX. I JUST DID THAT IN THREE LANGUAGES!

Another reason I haven’t updated is that… well, I’ve been kinda off lately. I’m moody, sad, and my body hurts all over, even when I haven’t worked out. It’s weird. I lost my passion for writing, even music for awhile. I needed a break, I guess. Yeah, I know, I take a lot of breaks, but still, I needed time to think through everything, decide what I needed to do with myself to get back to being the happy girl I am. I really love writing, and my friends and family. I miss my Ficwad family. You guys rock my awesome patterned socks off. Stay awesome.

SO, with that said, I’m back, it’s summer…. I’ll be updating more and more. Probably 5-6 thousand word chapters, if that’s not too little. So, if you all review, rate…. Make my chapters green… I’ll probably be willing to update faster. I like long reviews. None of that OMG I LOVED IT MOAR. Stuff. No, none of that. Say something. Like, what you’re looking forward to in the story, predictions… whatever you want. I’ll reply to every review, I promise.

so much love and so many bags of skittles,

-A