Amy

"Jonah – Ham – Ian – uh, I think we're all here." I exhale. "Um. Hi, everyone."

Sinead loops her arm around my shoulder reassuringly, directing an almost imperceptible nod in the general direction of the camera. A silent vote of confidence.

A shaky laugh escapes my lips. "Well, uh. This is awkward."

Sinead shakes her head animatedly, rolling her eyes. I duck my head below the camera lens to shoot her a death-stare. Not helping, I mouth silently.

Project confidence. We've been over this. She smirks. Remember the spaghetti incident.

I plough on, biting back a smile. "My apologies, everyone. Connectivity error."

Natalie snorts.

"The past couple of months haven't been easy for most - any of you. You've all lost people close to you, had to reconsider your principles – re-evaluate your entire belief system, everything you thought you knew about yourselves. Your identity. We – I can't thank you enough. Ever."

I briskly scan their faces before continuing. "You chose us over everything, and there's no way that choice was easy. There's no way it's ever going to be easy, but that's okay."

"Where's Dan?" Reagan pipes up. Sinead shoots me a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile.

"Uh, Dan...is...he'll be here. Anytime now. He's just -"

Sinead quirks her eyebrows at me questioningly. I gesture for her to bring me a writing pad.

"Haven't we been over all of this?" Natalie interjects. "Amelia, I'm not going to pretend leaving Mom was easy. It's the hardest decision Ian and I have ever had to make, and we know that better than anybody else here. So do these...people, for their respective...families. Do not make me regret choosing you every time I have to listen to your whiny, shrieky little voice – ow!"

"I apologize for the little brat I have no choice but to call my sister, Amy." Ian's distinctive silky voice cuts through the speakers. "We appreciate your concern. Please proceed."

I'm not sure if it's just nerves or the unhealthy amount of coffee I downed this morning, but Ian seems uncharacteristically tired. His voice is missing the brisk edge that's plagued my nightmares and consumed my daydreams far too many times for me to forget any time soon, and he seems significantly less irritable (than he usually is) today. In fact, this is the first time he's opened his mouth since we commenced the session.

Sinead pokes at my arm, shoving the pad into my chest. Dan's recruiting, I scrawl messily onto the paper, pushing it back to her.

She raises her eyebrows.

I grab the pad back from her. Was supposed to hold a video conference yesterday but my nerves were acting up. Dan's better at this stuff.

What about these guys? She gestures to my laptop screen.

I shrug. Thought it was better to give them a quick heads-up beforehand. They don't know about this yet. Tell you later.

"...Amy?"

"Right. Sorry." I bite my lip.

"Ian, are you...okay?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

WHY? WHY DID I HAVE TO ASK THAT JUST THEN?

Perfect timing, Amy. As always.

I despise my brain.

I want to kill myself right now. Right this very second. If I don't die within the next few minutes from the ensuing embarrassment, that is.

Why. Whywhywhywhywhy.

Ian jaw tenses. He seems (justifiably) taken aback.

"Couldn't be better, Amy," he sighs.

And then he...smiles?

It's an exhausted smile, sure...but it's a smile nonetheless.

A rush of adrenaline courses through my veins. I did it. I actually accomplished something with this hellish conference! I got someone to smile.

Maybe I can do this, after all.

"Amy! Amy. Earth to Amy?" Ham's waving a fist at the camera.

"Oh. Right." I catch the slightest hint of a smile playing on Ian's lips from the corner of my eye. Natalie jabs him in the ribs and he sobers up at once.

"So...what is it, Sinead?"

Sinead's frantically waving the pad at me, smirking. Get a room.

I snatch the cursed thing from her. For the last time. Ian and I are very close platonic friends and not romantically involved – or even attracted to each other – in any way. Please keep any voyeuristic sexual fantasies concerning the two of us to yourself, or better still, get a room of your own.

Sinead collapses on the floor giggling, unable to restrain herself any longer. "Jeez."

PLATONIC. BUDS. I underline both words twice for emphasis and toss the pad across the room at her.

"What's going on with the two of you up there?"

I tuck a strand of reddish-brown hair behind my ear and stare squarely at the camera. "I'm really sorry, everyone. I'm new to all this stuff. Public speaking and..." I swallow. "Uh...I was...Sinead and I were thinking..."

Sinead tosses a pen cap at me. When I glance back, she's holding the pad up.

GET TO THE FREAKING POINT, GIRL!

I roll my eyes at her. Again, not helping, I mouth. You're ruining my flow.

"Cahill Trivia Night!" Sinead yells out from across the room.

"I – no!" If looks could kill, Sinead would be six feet under. I lower my voice to a hiss."You're my closest girlfriend, but I'm not letting you get away with this."

The insolent creature has the nerve to gesture to the pad, not even bothering to dignify me with a verbal response. Aww! I'm sorry, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do

At this, Jonah stands up abruptly. A loud crash sounds in the background. "I second that. No offence, Amy, but it'll get everyone to bond, yeah? It's better than having to listen to you make the speech for the-"

"Jonah." Hamilton's voice is unnaturally sharp. "You were doing great, Amy, but - uh, I think we should give this a shot. T'would – could be fun." He fidgets uncomfortably. "Are you sure my bro Dan will be here soon?"

Hot tears begin to prickle up against my lashes, and I bite my lip as hard as I can to help restrain them. I can't cry, not here, not now. I'm just being overly sensitive...right? Honesty is good. I want them to be honest with me, and if this is what they really want-

Dan. They all want Dan. And who can blame them? My little brother is exponentially better than me at everything, I just wish I could do something, anything to help-

Sinead rushes to my side and grabs me roughly by the shoulder. I feel my legs drag me across the room, following her lead without my consent.

"Amy. Amy."

"Amy, did you take your meds this morning?"

"I – yes. Obviously."

"Amy, you need to listen to me." Her grip on my wrists feels uncomfortably tight.

"Could you-"

"Oh. Yeah. I'm sorry." She lets go of my wrists. "For everything, I didn't mean for any of that to happen – Ames, you do realize this isn't your fault, right?"

I know it isn't my fault. Dan, Sinead, my therapist, Grace before them...they've all reminded me to avoid blaming myself approximately a zillion times. It's my cursed anxiety. None of this is my fault.

It's just...I can't help it. I've messed everything up.

I understand how my anxiety is supposed to work in theory. I understand that it's making me feel this way. Ever since Grace helped me realize it was a capital-P Problem (something I'd need to address actively) I've been trying to work on it - reading up on anything and everything even remotely related, taking my medication regularly, pushing myself to interact more socially, if only within my comfort zone...

It's just so gosh darn hard. I feel like I'm wired to mess everything up - and there are only so many free passes my "anxiety" can fetch me, right? I'm human, and I have to claim accountability for my mistakes just like everyone else. I could help prevent this. By preparing more, perhaps, or talking things through with Sinead...

Grace. Grace would've helped me work through this, had she been alive. My brilliant, beautiful grandmother. The brave, caring woman who always, always understood...

I take a deep breath and steady myself.

Sinead extends her palms to me. "You can hold them. It's okay if they're sweaty."

I feel my lips twitch as she tentatively pulls me into a hug.

"Is this okay?"

A soft, hoarse whisper against my ear as her lips graze my hair.

"I...think so. Yes," I manage. "More than okay, Sinead."

"Mm. That's good." She doesn't say anything for a few seconds, and we elapse into a comfortable silence.

Then: "This is all...yours." She exhales, stroking my hair ever so lightly with her fingers. "All this responsibility. This decision, this choice, this fight. It's yours, and I know you'll figure it all out -given time - because you always do. You've..." She chokes out a laugh. "You've made it through so much, Amy. Isabel, the clue hunt, the gauntlet..." She gesticulates with her left hand as she speaks - she's still running the fingers of her right hand through my hair. "You succeeded at something people have been trying – and failing – to accomplish for five hundred years."

"Where are you going with this?"

"This is just a video conference. You've survived all the nitty-gritty, nigh impossible parts of this. I know your relationship with your cousins feels extremely fragile and...and delicate right now, but you'll navigate this fine." She snickers suddenly. " I assure you, they'll give you all the time you need. It's not like they have a choice."

I narrow my eyes at her. My best friend desperately needs to work on her discretion.

"Amy...there isn't much I can do as your friend beyond reminding you of everything you're capable of every so often, because again, this is all yours. There's only so much I or anyone else can do to help with it. And you're capable of a lot. Just...know that if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I'm always there, 'kay?"

"You're such a cliché."

"Do not reduce me to your ethnically marginalized sidekick, Amy Cahill."

"But...you're not-"

She brushes me aside. "You get what I mean. I have my own life and my own goals, and the fact that we're best friends doesn't mean we're obligated to define each others' paths in life. However...I'll always be there to help you figure it out - nudge you along, if you will...if you ever happen to need me. For moral support."

I slowly pull away from her, looking her directly in her soft yet somehow unnervingly intense coffee-brown eyes. My hands are firmly clasped in hers. "Sinead..."

"You want to go back in there."

"...thank you."

"Huh. We're good." She pats me awkwardly on the head. "So...you ready to get back in there?"

"Can you talk to them for a bit? I think I still – I still need another minute, if that's okay."

"Definitely. Sure." She presses a light kiss onto my cheek and bounces back into the conference room, her sleek strawberry-blonde ponytail glinting in the neon lights of the hallway behind her. "Whenever you're ready, 'kay?"

...

Ian

"Everybody, calm the fuck down!"

Natalie starts at my (admittedly fairly uncharacteristic, Mum always thought cursing to be "unbecoming of a young, cultured gentleman" like myself) use of profanity but quickly regains herself. "Maybe you should consider calming down yourself, darling." She shrugs. "Decaf?"

"No thanks." I raise my voice. "Amy suggested trivia, so trivia it is."

"Who died and – "

I swiftly tap on a series of buttons across my screen, blocking the cretin out. A notification promptly pops up on my screen:

You have successfully removed "The Wiz" from this video conference. If you are the host, you can always add them back via the Profiling Menu.

"Hey!" the burly Neanderthal protests. "This isn't a dictatorship we're running here. You aren't even-"

"Implementing threats to enforce discipline," Natalie quotes, "although, technically speaking, there wasn't one in the first place. Nice."

"Thank you, sis."

"Sis?"

"I don't know who I am anymore," I shrug. "I've been trying on different personas since...y'know. Experimenting. Hopefully, something will click and I'll..."

"Y'know?" Natalie interrupts. "Ian. Go through a hundred experimental teenage phases or even an alarmingly pre-due midlife crisis for all I care, but at least retain some form of dignity." She shakes her head disapprovingly. "And never forget your roots."

I arc a brow.

Natalie sighs. "You know what I mean. I'd never be able to stand it if you became one of...them."

"You have nothing to worry about," I assure her.

"Is anybody adding my homie back?" the dolt booms. "This is supposed to be a democracy."

I roll my eyes. "Your homie was A)getting on my last nerve and B)guilty of gross misconduct that more than qualified him for immediate and abject banishment from the video conference."

"Challenging you."

"Honey, I know it's difficult for you to communicate in non-binary sentences, but simply commanding yourself to do whatever it is you're hoping to accomplish through quadri-syllable sentences won't get the job done," Natalie simpers saccharinely.

"I was merely confirming what apparently qualifies as "gross misconduct" as per your almost pathetically malnourished brother's standards," the buffoon manages to spit out through clenched teeth. "Standing up to him?"

I have to admit the nitwit catches me off-guard for a second there. I did not expect him to defend his socially uncouth...pal? Acquaintance? ( If I'm being honest, I have no idea how close the two have grown since the end of the hunt. They're a lot chummier than I remember them ever being. If I take this glorious new honesty to the next level, I'm not sure how I feel about that.)

Anyway, I did not expect him to stand up to me in a verbal argument. As any Lucian will confirm, a verbal argument to a Kabra is nothing less than a sacred battle – a battle of wits, usually with an unarmed opponent with infinite potential for growth. This is taking into consideration the fact that any poor soul with half a brain will generally have enough sense to avoid partaking in such a suicidal endeavour, of course.

I choose to ignore him. "We will be dividing into teams based off of our family branches and will each then get the chance to choose one question for every other team."

An annoyingly disruptive ping! interrupts my flow. It's another blasted notification.

Da Holtz hamburgerz4life added "The Wiz" to this meeting.

I want to swear.

"How, pray tell, did you manage to do that?" I inquire through clenched teeth instead. A respectable Lucian always concedes when he knows he's about to encounter defeat.

"Ham, my man! Hammy, my homie. Thanks, yo."

The nincompoop actually blushes at that. Amy Cahill would be proud.

"Anytime, bro."

I do not like being dismissed.

"Ahem-"

"Fo' real, though – how did you pull that off, yo? I thought only Amy could do that."

The twit turns a brilliant shade of burgundy.

I clear my throat. "Well, Amy isn't here, so-"

"Not many people know this, but there's a tiny loophole in the programming of most systems that can allow anyone to access the controls. Sinead probably left it there on purpose in this case – sort of as an escape route - a back-up in case of emergencies, y'know? Anyway, it's pretty easy to catch once you know about it," he babbles. Then, a tad nervously, biting his lip: "I can show you later if you want me to?"

Holy hell. Am I sensing...a celebrity crush?

"Sure thing, dawg. That'd be fly." Jonah flashes the camera his famous all-star smile. "Where did you pick all of this up?"

"Coding classes," Hamilton replies shyly. "I've been taking them since sophomore year without telling my dad, but this is pretty basic stuff. You'll pick it up in no time." He cracks his knuckles awkwardly. "I, uh, came clean to him after the hunt."

Jonah's smile fades a little at that, but he brightens up again almost immediately. "That's awesome, yo. So he's cool with it?"

"He's...warming up to it." He shrugs. "He'll come around eventually. That's my dad for you."

I have to fight to hold back the snide retort that's already built its way up to the tip of my tongue.

Apparently even the idiot senses he's overstepped because he quickly backtracks. "Er...I'm really sorry. I didn't mean-"

"You're good," Jonah interjects. "You don't have to censor yourself just because the rest of us have shitty parents. I love my dad, too. Nothing to be ashamed of."

I want to gag myself. Where is Daniel when you need him?

"I...uh, yeah, no, I get it. I shouldn't be rubbing it in your faces."

"C'mon, man! Loosen up." Jonah pushes up his sunglasses (why would you wear those indoors? Why would you wear them during the winter at all?), chuckling a little. "So...how 'bout we meet up at your place for one of those coding classes sometime?"

I swear to actual God.

"Er...yeah! Yeah, how's Friday evening for you?"

"It's a date." Jonah grins.

An awkward silence ensues.

"Dear God." Natalie's playing with her sleek, glossy hair, twisting it into an elaborate knot of tiny braids that forms a halo over her head. I think she was going for cornrows, but I have to admit the mess that's her latest hairdo looks inexplicably gorgeous on her - as almost everything does. She has a knack for this stuff. People assume that personal style is just about costly products from Gucci and fancy dresses from Prada, but to my sister, it's practically a window to the soul. She emulates other people to find herself, inculcating the parts that feel like her into her style and tweaking the ones that feel uncomfortable or alien - which, to her, practically defines her identity. Her sense of self.

My point is, my sister's obsession with anything and everything even vaguely fashion-related is more like her one true passion in life (not taking deception into account). It's what she truly cares about. She's not half as shallow or superficial as people tend to assume she is. "The sexual tension is killing me. Make out already. So the rest of us can move on."

I aim a swift kick at my sister's shin.

"What?"

Hamilton ducks his head, peering at Jonah through the corner of his eye. The young hip hop star's unusually quiet, but I can almost feel the waves of tension he's practically radiating through the screen.

"Natalie," I hiss under my breath. "Discretion."

"Hey, guys." Sinead Starling's breathless voice breaks through the heavy veil of tension. "Amy's taking care of some stuff - Saladin just had a bit of an...um, episode - the poor thing's been sick all morning. I don't think it's too serious, though, just an ordinary bout of the-"

"Ahem," I cut in. I feel like I'm about to puke. "Is Amy okay?"

Everyone predictably bursts into a fit of cackling.

I loathe Daniel Arthur Cahill.

"I'm fine!" Amy retorts.

"...Ames?"

"It's all good, Sinead. I just needed a second to...regroup. Ian, I promise I'm fine."

"...regroup," Natalie echoes. "Right."

"What'd I miss?" She seems a little flustered.

"Hamilton and Jonah -" Natalie begins.

"Ganged up against me for trying to maintain some semblance of order," I finish. "It was all chaos without you here. You're the only one who can handle this, Amy."

She looks up gratefully. "R-really?"

I scoff. "You think I'd admit that willingly?"

"Thanks, Ian. Really. That means a lot, coming from you."

"Amy…" I don't know how to say this. I don't think it'd go over well with anyone.

But I'm so...damn...exhausted.

It's everything. Booking the plane tickets to Massachusetts, having to deal with the temper tantrum Nat's inevitably going to throw when she finds out we're flying economy, figuring out temporary lodging arrangements for the two of us, trying to find a good long-term investment plan, handling all the messy legal issues from the disownment, Mum, reworking the art dealership…

I haven't slept a good six hours in weeks, and I'm barely functioning on three at the moment.

"Can we - can we resume this meeting tomorrow?" I plead. "I'm really sorry, but I just have so much I need to -"

"I have a tournament," the dolt adds. "And an assignment that counts for 39% of my grade that's due on Friday."

"I have pop-up books to sign."

Amy looks crestfallen. "I - that's okay, but...I'll be asking everyone to join tomorrow. Dan, Nellie, Alistair…"

"Please do. We need something to balance the insanity out."

"And your solution to that is Daniel?"

Predictably, everyone starts bickering.

My phone buzzes. It's been doing that a lot this past hour, I hope I haven't missed any important texts from our broker…

It's Sinead.

SS: Thank you

IK: ?

SS: Amy was having a bit of a rough day

SS: She desperately needed the encouragement

SS: I know that must've been hard to do but you had great timing and it meant a lot

I don't know how to reply to that.

IK: You know it had nothing to do with my supposed crush on Amy, right?

SS: You were just being a decent human being for once, Kabra. I get it.

IK: Thank you.

SS: For real, though…?

IK: No. Shut up.

I have three more unread texts. None from our broker, thankfully.

Amy: Thanks so much for everything:)

Hamilton: Thank you, bro

Jonah: 3

I sigh.

Maybe…maybe it might all just work out, after all.

I tap out a quick reply to Amy: Anytime, we're family now. For the record, the meeting went a lot better than I thought it would, good job.

I delete the period, add a smiling keyboard emoticon and hit send before my mother gets into my head or I have a chance to second-guess myself.

AC: You're a massive cynic, then!

IK: Alright, here's some optimism for you. We all had commitments, but we set everything aside just to "hang out" with each other. I don't expect everything - anything, really - to go perfectly, but it's all going to work out eventually.

I don't know whether it will, though. I don't know anything except for the fact that as a Lucian, I will never be wired for optimism - no matter how hard I try.

I delete the text and crash onto my pillow, drifting into a peaceful slumber for the first time in months.

…

Hamilton

"Ham."

I glance up. It's Reagan.

I toss her a friendly punch. "Hey, you."

"Are you…" Her eyes nervously dart around the room before she apparently changes her mind. "Uh, Mads wanted to talk to you about something. Erm...good night!"

"'Night!"

My phone suddenly erupts into an orchestral arrangement of the James Bond theme.

"What the hell?"

Reagan looks utterly bemused as her eyes widen and she darts out the room with a strained, "Mads?!"

It's ringing.

Except...this isn't my ringtone. My normal ringtone is a 3-minute long mash-up of Converge and Metallica's greatest hits I pirated off the web. It's a freaking masterpiece.

I pick up anyway.

"Hamilton Holt."

"You know who this is, yo."

I let out a deep sigh of relief. "Jonah."

"So...did you like it?"

"Huh?"

"We both know you think you're too cool for orchestral music-"

"Oh." Oh. "That was you?"

"Guilty."

"But - how - how did you - did you hack my phone?"

He shrugs. "You asked for it."

"Because I insulted the classical remix of Lil' Gangsta'?"

"It was an orchestral remix. And it's not that. I accept preferences, yo."

"But?"

"The art of mash-up - the concept of fusion in general - it's an extremely iffy one, yo. It doesn't work for everyone, particularly symphony or hip-hop purists. Some styles go together, some are harder to blend."

"Exactly! I like Lil' Gangsta, but -"

"I'm Jonah Wizard, yo. I cannot - I will not have the boy I'm crushing on discounting an entire genre of music just because he's got it confused with another completely unrelated genre, or because he thinks he's too cool to enjoy a style that was popular a couple hundred years ago. I'm better than that, even if you refuse to believe you are."

I let out a sharp breath. "Did you just say-"

"Yes, Holt." His voice is muffled, and he sounds uncharacteristically nervous.

He isn't serious, is he? He can't be. That'd be...essentially impossible.

"I like you. I've liked you for months now. And I don't think I'll stop liking you anytime soon." When I don't reply, he adds, "As in, I'd be more than kind of, sort of, open to the possibility of...maybe dating? Or going out, or even just hanging out together more often - just the two of us - possibly taking our friendship to the next level. Because I like spending time with you, and I spend almost every minute of the day wanting more, and when we do hang out, I just keep, like, yearning to tell you, y'know?"

I don't know how to respond.

"Say something Hamilton. You can't leave me hanging, goshdarnit."

"I...Jonah."

"Hamilton - " his voice catches. "It's okay. I get it. I'll get over it." I can hear his short, staccato breaths over the line. "I didn't - I didn't think - I didn't know how you felt, I just - I probably built the whole thing up in my head. I've been known to do that. I just thought, after today - I thought you were sending me all these signals, and I probably misinterpreted them...it's cool, yo. We can still be bros."

I spring up and practically skip into the bathroom, locking the door and lowering my voice. "Jonah. I like you, too."

An anxious laugh escapes him. "Oh - oh my..." He's practically wheezing. "Ham. Please tell me you're serious."

"Totally, 100% serious, my man."

He's silent for a beat. "I – hell – Hamilton."

"Y-yeah. Uh…I didn't think – Jonah, you were my first celebrity crush and my sexual awakening when I was thirteen. And then…and then the clue hunt happened, and we started to hang out, and I started to like you, as a person, and I don't think I've felt closer to anyone before – it isn't even just attraction anymore! It's – you're my best friend. I can't believe – this feels like a dream! I never imagined it was –"

"Mutual. I know." I'm grinning like an idiot. "So…what now?"

Why is this so awkward?

"I think this is the part where you ask me out to coffee or something. Something lowkey, preferably."

"Why me?"

"I called you. The ball's in your court, yo."

"Uh…what about the paparazzi?"

A pregnant pause.

"Holy crap. Hamilton. I have a proposition for you. That does not involve either of us coming out anytime soon. If…if, y'know, that's an issue."

I let out a relieved breath. "Yes! I'd – I don't mind doing it for you, I promise, but I'd rather just…not, right now."

"I mean, being queer isn't much of an issue with my dad. I'm pretty sure he knows. I've dated guys on the down-low before."

"You – guys, plural? I mean, that's okay, but I've never actually-"

"Mostly flings." He hastens to check himself. "You're nothing like that, I promise."

"Yeah, so…I don't want everyone to know right now. The press would have a field day with my sexuality, which really isn't that big a deal, and…I'm actually pansexual. But…I don't want to be branded as a pan stereotype – as a flirt or promiscuous just because I have more options – they're mutually exclusive! And that's not even taking all the inevitable slut-shaming into account. As for coming out as a pan celebrity at sixteen…I don't want any unwanted advances, and…"

"I get it," I sigh. "I have no idea how my dad would react. We've never had the talk or ever discussed anything to do with teen sexuality or…I don't know, whatever it is I'm supposed to know."

"Yeah, so. I was thinking…I could hire you as my bodyguard. We get to be around each other 24/7. Plus…nobody'd suspect anything."

"Are you serious?"

"Or not."

"No, I'm totally down! I – so…how about we meet at a cyber café or something?"

He scoffs. "You're a huge romantic, you know that?"

"I – what do you suggest then, Mr. Hearts and Rose Candy?"

"Rose candy. Nice."

"It's a thing!"

"Right." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Uh…how about a trek to some obscure site? As long as you slow down to my pace, of course. The Wiz doesn't like feeling inadequate."

"Wow. Yes."

"See you Friday, Holt."

I don't think I can feel any of the muscles around my cheeks anymore. "See you."

…

A/N – I can't believe I finally wrote something! Yes, it's arguably an incoherent, unplanned mess – I had no idea where I going with this fic – but still! It was the most fun I've had writing something in years, even if it's all just pointless fluff (for the most part).

I tried a couple of new things with this fic? I'd love it if you reviewed and tell me how I did with it, because this is brand new territory when it comes to fanfiction for me. I tried making the voice more informal and authentic, for one – with varying degrees of success. So…I apologize if a lot of the dialogue felt a little too awkward. It was intentional, but I have no idea if I pulled it off realistically. And I'm working on sharpening each of their voices into something more distinct, even if this chapter was a little rough. CC would be appreciated;)

I also tried making it more personal? Like, I don't have much in common with a lot of these characters, but I tried working some of my thoughts and experiences into their internal monologue to (hopefully) make it more realistic. I have no idea if that worked for the fic, but I really hope it did!

And it was probably obvious that I just typed everything that crossed my brain out without filtering it (I did give it a quick edit later, obviously), so it was probably a mess. I don't know if I'll be bringing ships into this...the dynamic between so many of the characters just unintentionally ended up very sexually ambiguous? I had no idea I even shipped HamxJonah before getting started on it. And yep, this is how I go about everything in my life xD. It was just for fun, mostly. I don't think there was a plot when I first started writing this, and there's zero point to any of it. Whatever. It was (yes I know I've overused this excuse to an obnoxious degree in the past) 1 a.m.

And once again, thank you SO much to everyone in the fandom! I honestly didn't think I'd ever write a fic again, and while the identity of…this as a coherent fic is questionable at best, you guys inspired me. As usual. You brought my favourite book series and fandom back to me. I love you all SO much.

(Oh and if it wasn't obvious…all the last minute "goshdarn"s and "oh my g-"s in this fic were originally supposed to be…something else. I'm just trying this new thing where I…write with people who aren't comfortable with that stuff in mind? So…feel free to replace it with whatever in your head. I know "goshdarn" is VERY OOC for Ham in particular;))

xx

Berry

(Holy crap. Please do not comment on the (VERY UNNECESSARY WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME SEND HELP PLEASE) length. I swear this wasn't intentional. I get…carried away sometimes. Also I have zero self-control.)

*slips out quietly*