No Ordinary Exchange

don't bring hate to a date

1. If you're American (US), remember that Mount Rushmore is carved into the Black Hills ("The Six Grandfathers"), which are sacred to the Lakota Sioux tribe. In other words, Mount Rushmore is literally the peak example of desecration, colonialism, and anti-indigenous sentiment. How can we celebrate the 4th of July when not all Americans were liberated then?

2. Follow @ the.mirror on Instagram! I've only just been introduced to their page, but they publish lots of informative resources pretty regularly. (They posted today explaining the history of Mount Rushmore that I summarized above!)

You know how I said last chapter I was a little over halfway done writing this story? Now, two weeks later, I have three chapters left to write (by hand, of course; typing and editing comes later). That's insane. When I started this fic, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to finish. But the TDP fandom is possibly the most supportive one I've ever been in, and it's thanks to your kind reviews and dedication to this story that it will be completed! Of course, there is still a long way to go for you guys (this is chapter 13 out of 40 or 41, after all!), and I am so excited to see your reactions to how everything progresses. I hope you enjoy :)

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"So, do I get a celebratory kiss for scoring 28 of tonight's 49 points?" Rayla said with a smirk as she pulled off her helmet, dropping it to her side as she placed her other hand on her hip. Her hair was tumbling messily out of its bun and her shoulder pads were heavily askew, but nonetheless she looked radiant in the setting sun.

Callum found himself immediately turning red at her request. The crowd of players and fans swarming the field around them was also dizzying, which certainly didn't help his composure. "Maybe - uh, maybe when there's fewer people?" he managed to get out, instinctively stepping closer to her and squeezing his eyes shut.

Rayla, the brilliant, perceptive goddess among mortals that she was, immediately picked up on his anxiety. She slipped her free hand into his and began guiding him off the field, chattering aimlessly about different plays she'd run during the game in an obvious attempt to keep his mind off the crowd - an attempt Callum very much appreciated, even if it was only moderately successful.

Finally, they stopped walking. "Okay, we're off the field now," Rayla said. "You can breathe easy."

Callum opened his eyes as Rayla sat him down on a bench, letting out the breath he definitely knew he had been holding. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me," she said with a cheeky grin, ruffling his hair. "Just wait here while I take a quick shower. Then we can finally go on that date we had to reschedule. Sound good?"

Callum gave her a grateful smile. "Sounds perfect."

Rayla placed a quick kiss on his forehead before disappearing into the girls' locker room, and Callum had to resist the urge to sigh dreamily as he watched her go. It was amazing how quickly Rayla could turn his mood from stressed to blessed - rhyme intended, because her love of poetry was definitely rubbing off on him.

While he waited, Callum decided to work on one of the pictures that would ultimately become his brother's birthday presents. It felt like yesterday he'd had two-odd months to prepare - now it was closer to two weeks. Fortunately, the line art for both of the pictures were done. Now all he had to do was color.

Ugh. What a pain.

Not that he disliked coloring, but coloring had always been what he was most likely to mess up. Something about the general existence of blending was incredibly anxiety-inducing. Which was why he generally preferred charcoal. But this picture was for Ezran, who loved color. He wanted it to be perfect for him. On the plus side, of course, Ezran was very much a believer in the "there are no mistakes in art" mantra, which meant he loved any art of Callum's. His brother was definitely his #1 supporter.