"This isn't funny, Keefe, why are we in the same bed?" Sophie shrieked, her hair like a rat's nest on her head.
"I don't know, Foster, but why are we so grown up?" Keefe yelled back, his eyes wide as he felt his torso.
"Mom?" asked a little girl, s...
technically not a 25k special but a 15-20-25-30k special combined. so naturally we're getting more disaster gays
also can we talk about how great you guys are? like by the time i post this we'll be almost at 30k! (me, later: th-thirty-two thousand?)
you may have noticed I upped everyone's ages-go back to chapter 4 and check! this is only because I want favian and ciaran to be a ship and I can't do that if they're ten
stay safe kids
writing this on the camp directors tablet because there's no service im going to get caught lol sucks to suck i guess
~anna
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~katlyn
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whatever the hell the date is
Favian POV:
We're all made of stars. I mean that literally, by the way, not like the stupid "motivational" posters humans like to put in their classrooms. We are all, literally, made of stardust. (Even humans, no matter how much the opposite they pretend to be.)
(Both Ciarán and I are made of stardust.)
(Why do I have these thoughts.)
"Do you think he realizes he's spacing out again?" stage-whispers Tex. "Hello, Earth to Favian, whatever else the humans say. Are you thinking about your one and only love, Ciarán who we can never meet?"
"Shut up, Tex," I snap, blushing redder than a Saber Tooth Tiger.
"'Oh, Ciarán, your eyes are so beautiful and I wish we could make out all the time and stuff,'" mocks Prelim, batting his eyelashes. I smack him on the shoulder, my cheeks warm. "Hey!" he complains.
"I already told you guys that he doesn't like elves."
"Except you, apparently," says Tex.
"Except me," I add, trying my hardest not to blush to the tips of my ears. "And plus, I think he might be on the run," I say, dropping my voice to a whisper. "I think he might be a criminal. Or his dad was, or something."
