#i sit in my corner and draw wiggly lines

[lokidokeyartichoki]

…my sister’s significant other might help send satellites to uranus. she’s dating an aerospace engineer. she’s getting her Master’s in environmental studies.

i work retail and ate an entire batch of brownies in 24 hours. we are not the same.

[orangelemonsstuff]

Omori Au!Heartslabyul

Summary: Riddle has been living in the red space for as long he can remember

"dont worry"

.

.

.

"everything is going to be okay"

Riddle wiped his tears as he continues crying, his chest feels heavy and nothing seems to be right

.

.

.

"no matter what happens"

.

.

.

"promise me that we'll always be there for each other..."

a black door

a person with guilt,

and a friend that is there to comfort him

.

.

.

"promise me..."

.

.

.

Welcome to red space

.

.

.

.

you have been living here for as long as you can remember

.

.

.

Riddle opens his eyes as the black lightbulb darkens before his eyes

he moved his body as soon he gained consciousness

he sat properly as his lifeless eyes stare at the endless red space of nothingness

he looked back up to the black lightbulb and how it buzz with eminent darkness

he stared at it for a few seconds then focused on his footing as he stood up

he walked towards a rulebook

.

take a look inside?

.

he flips the pages of the book, reviewing the unidentified scribbles, and drawings he made when he was alone in the red space.

after he reviewed the page, he moved on to look at a black heart shaped tissue box

.

a tissue box to wipe your sorrows away

.

interested no more, he moved towards the square gadget laying on top side of the box he was sleeping

.

you booted up your tablet

.

his finger moved towards the only icon that shows up to the screen

it was his journal

he looked at the first two row entries of Day ??? with the same text "Today, i spent time in the white space, everything was okay" and the gazed upon the rest with also Day ??? but with the same over and over "today, i visited my friends. it was okay."

like on the lightbulb he gazed at the screen for a few seconds to read every single one of the entries even though it was the same on everything with his emotionless black eyes,

he closed the app and for a minute he just stared on the homescreen

.

you stared at the screen

.

a moment later he pressed the button on the side of tablet to close it off

.

the heat from the tablet warmed your hands, it felt nice

.

standing up again he approached the red hedgehog sitting across from the corner of the line

"...? (waiting for something to happen?)"

and then,

*CLINK*

something fell nearby

Riddle turned his head from the sound and walked around the red space

there were white wiggly hands that started chasing him all of the sudden but he escaped, well, some of them...

while trying to run from a hand, he came across a royal baton laying on the ground.

as he took it another hand spotted him and started chasing him, he closed his eyes as it reached him, opening his eyelids he realizes he was back from where he was before.

he turns his towards the door

"a red door casts a faint shadow"

he opens the door as he finds his friends playing cards

they run to him with excitement and full energy

"today might be the same day as always...or not."

quick a/n: Happy birthday Sunny from Omori :D (i wrote this fic because i have this idea for a long time now, they are the only dorm that has 5 members and only dorm i can think that rlly fits them, i love Heartslabyul Dorm and so is Omori so why mot combine both right? (this is short for a reason and thats cuz this is just a brainrot)

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

✿M.I- Restrained in the Hospital✶★

Make a request!

Master list

Warnings: hand job, exhibitionism?

Words: 1344

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x FEM!reader

Summary: Izuku’s arms are broken, again, so you jerk him off for him <3

===NSFW/ SUGGESTIVE UNDER THE CUT===

This was bad. No, Izuku wasn't thinking about his limp and broken arms, each wound snugly in a white cast; he was thinking about the raging hard-on he had, unable to do anything to relive the tent under the thin hospital blanket that covered him. And sure, he was pretty embarrassed when the staff had to help him go to the bathroom and an inconvenient boner would pop up, but he was even more embarrassed when he knew AllMight was dropping by soon.

Izuku struggled in the sheets, trying to at least make the bulge look like a crease in the fabric. He desperately thought of boring things that would get him out of this mess. Math homework. All that cleaning with Kacchan. Math homework. Tutoring. Being tutored by you. Uh oh. He just made it worse. Of course his monkey brain would think of you. He remembered one time when you were helping him study, and you really were, up until Izuku couldn't help his stupid hormone crazed body and—

"Hey, Izu-Chan~!" You sauntered your way into his hospital room, bag slung over your shoulder. "Sorry for not telling you I would pop by; you can't really reach your phone... so.."

You analyzed his face as you went to sit down in the chair beside his bed, noting the hot red streaks that adorned his cheeks. His smile was bright as always, but it had a tinge of anxiety in it. No... embarrassment? It was difficult to tell.

"H-how are things?" Izuku asked stiffly, eyes trying to avoid looking at you.

"Same old," you sighed, taking out some chapstick and applying it thickly to your lips, "damm, this weather is making my lips dry."

"Y-yah," Izuku agreed, attempting to make it look like he was watching the birds outside.

You tried to guess what was up with him. Top secret information he was holding? Maybe... but the conveniently placed wrinkle in the fabric of his blanket said otherwise.

"So," you popped your lips together, "how do you keep yourself occupied when you can't use your hands and arms?"

"Uh mostly music, and making brain notes of things I should work on," Izuku attempted to shrug, "but mostly just sleeping, or daydreaming..."

"... about what?" You pressed, trying to sound nonchalant, grazing a finger on a slightly dusted side table.

"Uhm, well... mostly about becoming a h-hero, a-and, well... uh.." Izuku struggled. "And thinking about hanging out with you..."

"Just hanging out?" You teased, scooching your chair a little closer and leaning your head on his hospital bed railing.

"Uhm, y'see, well- I, um," Izuku stuttered. He was so cute trying to come up with a convincing lie. You couldn't help but smile at his awkwardness.

"C'mon, spit it out," you giggle, teasing a hand down to draw circles on his thigh, deathly close to the 'wrinkle' in the fabric.

"... and about having sex with you," he murmured so quietly that you barely heard him. Ah, there it was. The shameful confession. You weren't going to tease him, (that much, anyway), so you just inched your hand closer to where you assumed his dick was.

"W-what are you doing!?" Izuku exclaimed nervously, his mouth forming a wiggly line to keep from yelling even more.

"You're horny right now, Izu," you batted your eyelashes up at him, slowly moving your hand under the covers, "and I'm gonna help you get off. Right here, right now."

"R-really?" He said, awestruck, "I-I mean, no! We'll get caught!"

You rolled your eyes, "the worst they can do is send me out of the building. It's not like they're gonna throw you out of the hospital."

Deku was deep in thought, mumbling the pros and cons of the situation, ".. well she's got a point... hm but— allmight will be here soon... can't have that.... but on the other hand—."

"Izu, baby," you shook him out of his daze, "calm down, ok? If you really don't want me to I don't have to—."

"—no, wait! I really want you to, it's just- I'll be so embarrassed if AllMight comes early and h-he sees what we're doing..." he stuttered, trying to wave his arms about.

"Careful, baby, don't hurt yourself," you stood up, holding his casts still and trailing your hands down to Izuku's chest.

He was frozen to the spot when your hands didn't stop, and continued down to just above where his dick was. His eyes were as wide as disks, and he couldn't peel them off of you when you folded back the pristine white comforter. You could hear his heart monitor speed up a little, and bit your lip. Shit. You had forgotten about that. You decided to ignore it, and continued to pull up his hospital gown to his chest.

"F-fuck," Izuku whimpered once his hard-on was free. "Haven't touched m- myself in s-so long."

"'So long' being like three days," you hummed, wrapping your fingers casually around Izuku's red cock. He whined under your touch, the heart monitor getting quicker. "Hm, better relax a bit, don't want a nurse coming here to check your heart."

"O-oh..." he scrunched up his face and took a few deep breaths.

You knew that his heartbeat quickening was inevitable, so you just hoped the nurse that checked up on Deku would only peak in and immediately leave. You got into a steady rhythm; spreading his pre-cum over the head, and firmly pumping his length. Izuku's eyes were glazed over, not able to peel off of your movements.

Izuku was struggling to contain himself, flexing his legs and biting his lip. He always came pretty fast whenever you were touching him like this, your teasing doe eyes looking up at him. So now that he hadn't given his dick some proper attention for the past three days, he was extra sensitive.

"Y-y/n, please," Izuku huffed out a breath. "Get t-tissues or something r-ready— I'm so close."

"We won't need tissues, baby," you smirked, lowering your mouth to his cock, flattening your tongue against the underside of his glans.

The way Izuku's eyes nearly popped out of his skull made you want to just get on the bed and fuck him. His face was beet red, and you guessed that his blush trailed down his chest as well. His sweet, lewd, moans filled the room as you innocently looked up at him.

"Soon— gonna cum soon," Izuku whimpered, his eyes half lidded. He refused to look away from your enticing mouth, and he didn't want to waste his time with blinking.

"Go on and cum for me, Izu," you pleaded, your tongue lapping at the underside of his glans.

Deku's eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, and he heaved a silent wail as he came into your mouth. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes, and he glanced down at you. Izuku could've sworn that he almost came again just from looking at you as you made a show of swallowing his cum.

"Ah~" Izuku squirmed when you rubbed at the head of his sensitive cock, unable to get away. "Th-the heart monitor, y-y/n-chan."

You glanced at the machine, and then at the door. You smirked when you saw a nurse's blonde hair whip past the door to his room, swiftly ignoring the two of you.

"What about it, Izu~?" You teased, licking off the remainder of his cum.

Deku's whole body shivered once you gave him a last departing kiss, and you tucked him back into place. His face was glowing pink, but he looked a lot more relaxed than he was before. He let you lean down to kiss his lips, wishing his arms weren't broken so he could touch you.

"MIDORIYA, MY BOY," AllMight announced, stepping into the room. He was in his hero costume, as usual, and gave you a bright smile, "oh, hello to you too, young y/n."

"Hi," you waved politely, grabbing your bag. "I'll leave you two to chat."

"O-ok," Izuku whispered, his face flushing deeper. "See ya."

[leoswritingcorner]

an oracle in olympus pt. 3

i’m sorry for how long this took, but i’m back at it again! shout out to @headcanonsfromanelfblossom for being my beta and all of you for inspiring me! <3 part 3 of ?

Olympus, the home of the gods. Mighty and grand, and in all its splendor!

...basically looked like something out of a vintage Aspen postcard. There was no plumes of clouds swirling over golden roads. Chariots and pegasus weren’t racing across the skyline. There wasn’t even a single Corinthian pillar in sight. 

Lucky shoves her hands into the pockets of the 90’s print neon windbreaker Lucy lent to wear over her party dress from the night before. The wind is chilly, even for late Summer. She looks around, taking in the sight of the mountain ranges in the distance, and the closer rolling hills lined with pine trees. In the center of it all, a simple looking town laid there.

So far off from what she would draw of Olympus as a kid.

“Luce, just take Avernus Lake Boulevard, it’s the easiest way.” Jamie says, fishing her phone out of a glittery clutch bag.

Lucy shakes her head. “Alkyonian Lake Drive is what I used before, so I’ll use it again.” she argues. She swings the door of her Volkswagen open and looks to Lucky. “Ready?” She calls out. “We gotta hurry, traffic is a killer around the breakfast rush.”

Lucky looks away from the town with a pout. “Olympus is just like Aspen?” She asks a bit disheartened. “That’s another thing, why aren’t y��all in Greece?” She questions, climbing into the car.

In the front seat, Jamie buckles herself in. “We go back, like, now and then. But ever since mortals lost sight and belief in us,”she trails off and shrugs. “We just roam around, but Ran- er, Zeus took a real liking to Colorado so, we’ve been here for, like, the last hundred centuries.” She explains easily. 

“Oh.” Lucky says nodding. “Looks like y’all like keepin’ it modern, too?”

Lucy starts up the car, pulling out of the driveway. “Well yeah. You’d expect us to just be in the Bronze Age forever?” She asks back. “We like a bit of modernism, too.”

A sheepish look crosses Lucky’s face. “I guess that makes sense.” She says quietly. Lucy chuckles, catching Lucky’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“But sometimes Zeus feels nostalgic and we’ll have a day or two when this place looks a bit more how it used to.” She adds. 

It would have been a quiet ride into town if it hadn’t been for a Gary Newman song blaring on the speakers.

Lucy taps her fingers in beat to the song on the steering wheel. Jamie’s own fingers tap rapidly the screen of her phone. Lucky leans up slightly, catching a glance of the name of who she was texting ‘A❤️💖 💝💘💗💞💕💓😍’ 

Smiling slightly Lucky slumps back down. ‘A’, she had a slight idea who that might have been. Absently, her hand lifts up and her fingers brush the lines of the splotchy birthmark on her chest. 

What if she really was some reincarnated oracle from Ancient Greece?

‘No.’ Lucky pushes away the thought. ‘No, I am not Tyche. I’m Lucky.’

For the briefest and scariest second, a sense of uncertainty fills her. 

‘Aren’t I?’

“So.” Lucky speaks up to stop her thinking from going any further. “Y-Y’all have mentioned some guy named Clyde. Who is he?”

The song comes to an end and finally silence fills the car. 

Lucy draws out a long “Uuuhhh…”

Jamie pats her friend’s shoulder a few times as if to reset her. “He was, like, a good friend of Tyche.” 

“He was a really good friend of hers.” Lucy adds, her voice dipping a little at ‘really’.

Before Lucky could respond, Jamie claps her hands. “Oh, let’s stop at Tweek’s!” She suggests. “We need to, like, make change and I could go for, like, some pastries.”

Lucy nods, flipping on the turn signal. “Good idea.” She agrees. They pull into a small plaza that sits nestled in the shadow of a mountain. Lucky leans forward, peering from between Lucy and Jamie. She hadn’t even noticed they passed by the town and were nearing a mountain range, a more shadowy looking one of all of them. Lucky starts to feel a heaviness grow in the pit of her stomach as they cruise by various shops in the rundown plaza.

‘Grief Counseling by Penthos’ read one sign. Next to it, another sign read ‘Geras’ Old Age Vintage Shop’. Lucy pulls up to the end of the shops, passing into a drive through. ‘Tweek Bros Coffee’ was painted across the window, the word ‘Curae’s’ had clearly been scraped off.

Rolling down the window, Lucy leans out as a static voice yelps from the drive thru. 

“Gah! H-How can I help you?”

Lucy lifts her sunglasses. “Hey, Tweek. Give me and Jams our usual, please.” She orders. Turning to Lucky, she asks. “Want anything?”

“Uh.” Lucky blinks. “N-No. I think I’m okay. Don’t have much of an appetite right now.” 

Lucy shrugs, calling back out. “And that’ll be it.”

“Y-Your total is f-five dollars. Aw, jeez!” The voice exclaims. Lucy zooms around the corner and plucks the ten dollar bill Jamie hands to her. At the window, a young man with wild blonde hair stands twitching and trembling. 

“How’s it going, Tweek?” Lucy asks politely, taking the cups of beverage and bag. Tweek shakes, looking over his shoulder.

“Awful!” He cries. His head twitches and his eyes shut tight. “Pete!” He points to one of the shops in the plaza. “He’s going to kill me and take my shop, I just know it!” The girl follow his finger to look to the store front simply marked ‘Phobos’ where a sullen young man with dark hair stood, staring right at them. 

Unblinking. Unmoving. 

All three grimace and look away.

“I’ll try and talk to him.” Lucy offers. “We’re gonna see Cherry, Tweekie. Can I get coins as my change?”

“Rrgh.” Tweek replies, taking the money. He fumbles with the register before dropping three silver coins into Lucy’s hands. “Here!”

“Thanks, Tweek.” Lucy says sweetly. She gives a wiggly-fingered wave and drives off. Lucky finally finds her voice.

“That...that was Curae? Anxiety?” She asks, her voice pitching slightly. Lucy sips at her drink.

“Mmhm. Not a lot of mortals know that.” Lucy nods, making a check shape in the air with her finger. “Another point for the reincarnated Oracle!”

Lucky scoffs. “I have a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in Classical Studies, majoring in Greek Mythology. I’m also working on earning my PhD in the field as well. And!” She lifts her pointer finger. “I was just hired as a docent at the Denver Art Museum heading the Greek Mythos exhibit so…” She makes an exaggerated air check mark. “Point for Lucky Siddalee Day, girl who worked her ass off in college!”

Lucy and Jamie peer at each other. 

‘Nerd’ Lucy mouths.

Lucky folds her arms over her chest, looking out the window as the mountain comes closer as the Volkswagen drives on. “But, um, those names back in that plaza.” She says hesitantly, pointing over her shoulder  “Those...guys are the ones you’d kinda meet before…” Lucky trails off, unsure if she wants to even think of finishing the sentence she was about to speak.

The looming shadow of the mountain covers the car. Lucky looks out the window and feels her heart leap into her throat.

An immaculate sign made of white stone greets them. It’s black letters carved meticulously, into it, reading; 

Welcome to Underworld Co.

A cool chill seems to settle over the Volkswagen as they drove further down into the cavern of the mountain. Any traces of the sun vanishes completely, and only the light of torches lit with flames guide them along. Rows and rows of cars occupy the parking spaces; cars ranging from decade to decade. Lucky swears she sees a Rolls-Royce 10 hp as they drive by.

Lucy turns the steering wheel left, then right, then left again. “Dick!” She exclaims when a wall comes up. Lucky blinks and rubs her eyes. Was that wall there before? Lucy shares a few choice swear words in modern English and ancient Greek as she throws the car into reverse. 

Again, she turns left, then right...right one more time. Jamie shakes her head as another wall seems to magically appear. Lucky looks around. “What is all this?” She asks, ignoring Lucy’s agitated grumbling.

Jamie looks over her shoulder to her. “Parking garage. If Lucy, like, took, Avernus Lake Boulevard like I told her, we would’ve had valet parking.”

“Jamie.” Lucy rolls her eyes. “The last time I used valet, the harpies practically tore my car to shreds. And- aha!” Lucy veers the car to a sharp left into an empty spot. “See? Barely took us even twenty minutes.”

The three climb out of the Volkswagen and Lucky looks around the parking garage. It was a maze. Literally. The ramps shifted and turned, while walls appeared and vanished. A car zooms by them and screeches as the road turns and sends it crashing into a dead end. Lucy winces. “Hope they got insurance.” She comments lightly. The three avoid more cars speeding by and make their way to an elevator. 

A wispy ghostly figure of a man is there to welcome them as the elevator doors slide open. Lucky yelps, covering her mouth. He turns his head and Lucky winces when she sees the gruesome way he met his end, with a long slash stretches across his throat. Lucky is sure her chest is pulsing visibly with each pound of her heart. Jamie easily catches her from tumbling off the curb.

“Going down?” The ghost asks politely. Lucy nods, as they step in. She passes a silver coin to the ghost who smiles. “Ah, going way down. Elevator Styx to Main Lobby!” It calls out, cranking a lever. The doors seal shut behind them, and Jamie grips onto the railings, bracing herself. Lucy does the same and looks to Lucky.

“Better hold on tight.” She warns.

Lucky isn’t sure what is more terrifying, the elevator plunging downward or the sound of the muzak cover of Lady by Styx blaring over the speakers. Either way, her screams echo the entire way down.

*

Lucky can barely appreciate the Corinthian columns she thought she would have seen earlier. She clings tightly to Lucy’s arm as they walk down the hallways of white marble walls accented with ebony and gold designs.

It was all so elegant, and yet, so cold.

“Oh, poor Lucky.” Jamie says, gently trying to push down the curls of Lucky’s hair that stuck up on end from the elevator ride. “It’s, like, taken me over, like, a thousand years to get used to that drop. Are you going to be alright?” She asks

Lucky nods. “J-Just waitin’ for my soul to catch up with my body.” She replies weakly. 

A high pitched nasally voice speaks up as they step into the main lobby. “Welcome to the Underworld Co, what d’ya want?” 

Lucky jumps, and looks up to catch sight of a harsh looking woman sitting at the front desk. Her hair seemed to slither, but not with snakes. Her skin was a pale grey and her hallowed eyes stare the three visitors down, as if they interrupted something very important.

“I said.” Comes her nasally voice again. “What. Do. You. Want.” She bites out, pointing her nail file at them with each word. “All My Demigods is on and you’re wasting my time!”

“Hey, Erinyes, um, One?” Lucy greets. The woman’s eyes seem to darken more. “Two.” Lucy corrects herself quickly. The woman relaxes a bit and goes back to filing her claws. “We need to see Cherry.”

Erinyes Two snorts. “Yeah? You and half of Olympus and the Mortal World. You’ll need tah schedule a meeting with the boss like everyone else.” 

Lucy frowns slightly. “Listen, can you just tell her that Dionysus and Aphrodite are here to see her?”

At that Erinyes Two gasps over dramatically and puts a hand to her chest. “Oh, we have name-dropping gawds here! I’ll get right on that!” She nods. Lucy narrows her eyes as Erinyes Two smirks. “Sit down, wino-head. I’ll see if the boss can squeeze you in.”

Lucy takes one, two, and three breaths as Jamie guides her away from the front desk and to the waiting area. The chairs- actually, chaises were comfortable at least. Lucky sits down between Lucy and Jamie. Lucy sat nearly seething.

“I can’t stand dealing with Erinyes. Any of them.” She says, snatching up a magazine titled “Better Hearth and Home”. Across the room a wide screen flat TV showed the scene of a gorgon woman, slapping a Minotaur across the face.

Erinyes Two cackles. “He had that comin’” She says mainly to herself.

Lucky sits back. Lucy wasn’t kidding when she said that Olympus was keeping up with modern times, maybe even a bit more advanced. A wisp of another ghost floats down the hallway, a woman who appeared to be from another time and age, followed moments later by a man who looked like he stepped out of a 1950’s movie set. At the desk Erinyes Two sighs dreamily as he passes.

Lucky’s jaw drops slightly and she turns to Jamie. “Was that…?” She whispers in astonishment. 

Jamie glances up from her phone and nods. “Yeah, that’s him.” She replies, there’s almost a hint of a sigh in her voice as well. “Who knew a ghost of a mortal would be such a star here in Olympus too?”

Another hour passes and Lucky begins to feel restless. There’s only so much daytime television that one can watch, in the Mortal world and Olympus. She feels like she’s read through all the magazines on the table; Demeter’s Fine Gardening, Chronos, Olympus Weekly. But Lucy and Jamie seem barely fazed by the dragging of time. That must’ve been one of the perks of being a goddess.

A loud banging of a door opening wide shakes the room. Erinyes Two jumps and stands at attention. “Good Afternoon, sir.” She greets politely. Any and all traces of the rudeness that she had greeted them with early disappeared entirely.  

Lucky leans forward to see a man coming in. As wide as he was tall. He wore a black suit, designed with tiny floral prints of blood red roses, and twisting green stems. If one looked quick enough, hints of skulls could be caught between the prints of flowers. Was...was this Hades?

“Ooooh Koooore.” Lucy sing-songs teasingly, standing up.

At that, the man blisters and whips his head around towards them. There’s an angry color on his cheeks as his eyes narrow.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no freaking way.

Lucky giggles in disbelief, and covers her mouth to hide the sound. It’s too late, Persephone heard her. 

“Who the hell are you?” He demands, storming over. Lucky stumbles, dropping her purse as she goes to stand up. Persephone is before her, practically towering above Lucky. There’s a light scent of flowers followed quickly by almost metallic smell. Lucky holds her breath and peers up at him.

Persephone pauses, his eyes widening slightly before his steely glare returns. “I said who the hell are you? Speak up, mortal!” He snaps- literally snapping his fingers with each word.

“Oh come off it, Kore.” Lucy cuts in, gently tugging Lucky away from his imposing figure. “Where’s Cherry?”

Persephone grunts in frustration. “Stop callin’ me that, you dumb drunk. Did you come here just to bother me?”

“Dear.” Comes a new voice. Soft and light. It’s spoken in a tone almost above a whisper, but it carries so well across the marble walls. At the voice, Persephone’s anger melts away, replaced with a charming smile and light in his eyes.

“Darling.” He calls back. “Your friends came to visit, seems they brought us another stray.” He shoots them a secret look, just before a woman comes around the corner. 

Lucky stares in awe of the god of the underworld. Hades.

The very picture of elegance in a black dress of lace and satin, designed to match her lover’s; twisting patterns of vines and skulls. The red curls of her hair twisted carefully into a pilat crown.

Her gaze is slow, careful, and observant as she looks over Lucky. In that moment, Lucky isn’t sure if she should bow or curtsy. Or faint. That’s what she really felt like doing. 

“Cherry.” Lucy greets, smiling. She’s standing by Lucky now, hanging an arm over her shoulders. “This is our new friend. We need your help.”

Persephone makes an agitated grunt. “You know we don’t spare mortal souls.”

“Eric.” Cherry says. So that was his name. Lucky thinks it suits him a bit more than Persephone. However, Persephone did have it’s darker meaning. Cherry gives her husband a gentle smile. “You are right. We do not spare souls so easily, however, she is not dead.” Her eyes look to Lucky again.

Lucky smiles weakly. “Well, guess ya wouldn’t be the ruler of the underworld if ya didn’t know that.” She jokes, hoping to ease the growing tension. Eric seems to bristle again.

Cherry doesn’t laugh, but her smile doesn’t falter either. “What is your name?” She asks.

“It’s…” Lucky begins. Her tongue nearly betrays her when she feels the letter T forming on her lips. “Lucky.” She says quickly. “It’s Lucky. That’s my name.” 

At that, Cherry lifts her eyes to Lucy and Jamie. Lucky doesn’t see the way the two goddesses nod. 

Jamie speaks up. “Cherry, do you think, like there may be a chance, like, she could be…”

Cherry turns her stunned gaze back to Lucky. “Tyche.” She says in a whisper.

Eric’s eyes grow wide. His body seems to freeze on the spot. He barely hears the way Cherry asks the three visitors to follow her to the Archive Room. He watches the short brunette follow after them. It could not be her. He regains feeling in his body and finally his brain begins to think again, saying the first thought that came to him.

“Oh, shit.”

*

The Archive Room is not unlike any other office space. Save for the floor to ceiling filing cabinets, long ladders and winged monsters soaring back and forth.

Lucky sits across from Cherry, watching as the goddess takes a box from one of the monsters, nodding her thanks. “I apologize for the mess.” Cherry says. “We are beginning to go...digital.” She finishes with a sigh.

Eric is not too far, drinking a large cup of mead. “It’s going to really help us be more organized and keep track of all these souls and more.” He points out. “It was my idea.” He adds grinning.

Lucy snorts. “Humble as always.”

Eric shows her a view of one of his fingers in a quick motion.

“These are the T files. Tyche’s name should be here.” Cherry’s fingers barely seem like they even graze the tips of the file tops. Lucky glances to Jamie and Lucy nervously. They smile back to her, and Jamie takes her hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“Don’t worry.” Jamie assures her.

Lucky watches as Cherry wordlessly scans the file from top to bottom. Her eyes moving in a swift but steady motion. Eric downs his mead and swallows loudly, watching the scene closely.

Cherry inhales sharply, her movements coming to a halt. “I do not...understand.” Cherry says. “Tyche is not listed here.”

“What?” Lucy, Lucky and Jamie all blurt out at once.

Eric is quick, he comes to Cherry’s side and takes the file box in his arms. “We’re in the process of going digital remember?” He points out. “Maybe her file was just taken out of order.”

Lucy doesn’t seem to accept the answer. “She has a mark. The one mortals carry if their souls return.”

Cherry opens her mouth, but Eric is the one to reply. “That rarely ever happens. Even then it takes a mortal nearly thousands of centuries of penance.” He explains quickly. “Your friend is...just some coincidence.” 

“Yeah, I think we came here to talk with Cherry.” Lucy growls. “You know, the actual ruler here?”

Eric’s face goes red. “What makes you so sure about her anyway?!” 

Lucky shoves away from the table, and stands. All eyes turn to her as she snatches the windbreaker up, “If no one has answers. I want to go home. Oracle or not.” She says. With a swift turn, she storms out of the room.

Jamie and Lucy begin to follow before Cherry lifts her hand to stop them. Wordlessly, she follows after Lucky.

*

Lucky leans against the wall, her head tilted back. Her eyes trace the patterns of gold traced through the marble. She counts to ten and closes her eyes. Still a strong unease racks her body. 

What and why the hell was this happening to her? 

This week began so, well, normally. Now all of a sudden…

“Dear, will you be alright?”

Lucky gasps and opens her eyes. Cherry is standing beside her. There’s a concerned look on her face. “I am sorry about everything that happened back there.” She continues. “I can only imagine how overwhelmed you may be feeling.”

Lucky grunts. “I am beyond overwhelmed.” She mumbles, crossing her arms. “Nothin’ is makin’ sense anymore. In the span of nearly 24 hours, I feel like I’ve been thrown into a bad dream I can’t wake up from. Suddenly, I can’t stop...doubting who I am.”

Cherry listens carefully. “You are having doubts. Do you feel less like yourself?”

“Ever since I heard Tyche.” Lucky sighs. “Tyche...Tyche. Lucky…” She pushes a hand to her head. “I can’t be some ancient oracle. It’s just ain’t possible.”

“Yet, you are here. The Underworld, Olympus…” Cherry says, motioning around. “Lucy says you are clear of drunkenness.”

Lucky laughs dryly. “My stars how I wish I was.” She rubs her arms and looks around the hallway before looking back to Cherry. “Do ya think I’m...I could be her?”

“It is possible. Yet, I would not understand how. Eric may be...severe. But he is correct. The way souls can return is quite rare.” Cherry explains. “However, something does present itself as odd.” 

Right, the whole issue of Tyche’s name being missing. Maybe her file was replaced or lost in the transition. Lucky hums and closes her eyes.

“There is a way.” Cherry speaks up. “If you truly wish to find out if you are Tyche or not.”

Lucky looks to her again. “How?” She asks. 

“Drink from the River Mnemosyne.” Cherry replies. 

Lucky breathes in. Of course the River Mnemosyne could help. If she was Tyche, her memories would come back. She’d…

She’d no longer be Lucky.

“No.” Lucky says quickly. “No, no. I can’t” She shakes her head. 

Cherry nods in understanding. “I respect that. Yet, you should know...word spreads fast in Olympus. Oracle or not. Your presence here is known.”

Lucky pales as Cherry finishes her warning. She seems every bit of the goddess of the underworld as her eyes seem to darken and her voice sends trembles through Lucky’s very bones “Some gods and goddesses will be eager to know the truth, my dear. Take care.”

*

Lucky breathes in the scent of her apartment. Cinnamon and worn books.

It’s so comforting. 

Jamie thinks so as she lounges across the couch. “I’ve never stayed a whole night in the mortal realm in, like, years!” She says happily. “Or been to a sleepover!”

Lucky rolls her eyes and presses the popcorn button on the microwave. “Let’s not make it a habit.” She says. Lucy opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of root beer. 

“I can make this wine, you know.” She offers. Lucky goes green slightly at the memory of the night before. Lucy shakes her head. “I guess not. Hey…”

“Hm?” Lucky prompts, fishing in a cabinet for a bowl. 

“I’m sorry.” Lucy apologizes. “I got a bit extra with Eric and the news. Also, kidnapping you to Olympus.” She adds sheepishly. Lucky turns to Lucy and smiles slightly.

“Thank you.” She says, coming up to Lucy. “Promise you’ll ask me next time? And...keep helping me find out the truth? Slowly.”

Lucy grins tugging Lucky into a tight hug. “Promise.” She says. Lucky laughs, pulling away as the popcorn finished. They all pile onto the couch with Jamie and start the movie. Back to the Future.

After a while. Lucy lifts her hand. A long slender blunt is balanced between her fingers. “So...we’re against getting drunk. But, what about high?”

Jamie and Lucky share a look. 

“Oh, what the hell.” Lucky sighs with a shrug. “I may or may not be some reincarnated oracle.”

Lucy lights it up, smiling. “That’s the spirit.”

*

Lucky sits on the floor and at the TV, the credits rolling. Behind her on the couch, Lucy and Jamie lay deep in their sleep. Their high being slept away slowly. They miss the way Lucky’s green eyes cast a slight glow in the darkness.

“Alas.” Lucky speaks up, her voice distant, reaching across time. “How mistrust will lead to misfortune. A great shadow hovers over Olympus. Ruin and dust shall be the gods kingdom.” 

The TV goes dark and Lucky slumps over.

[mooooooosicals]

I'm reblogging this to give it an update haha.

So.

"We talked about making it, I'm sorry that you never made it" I sometimes get frusturated looking at this because Emma's sweater should not hug around her like that. Luckily I've learned since then.

I headcanon that Paul loves wearing sweaters.

If you've seen my drawings before you'll know Emma's sweater is the same one as the one in "Paul! You Made It!"

In the second picture, instead of saying "Welcome To Clydesdale" it says "Welcome To Hell" which actually reveals that Emma is dreaming. This is also a nod to the Paul Loving House server.

This is actually one of the nightmares Emma has in the Hospital au.

The hearts are broken in the second picture.

"Wiggly Paul puppets" this took almost 24 hours lmaooo

Yes, that is indeed Charlotte in the bottom left corner

Both Ethan's and Paul's puppets have injuries and X's over their eyes. I have another post that explains that.

Emma has green eyes with hearts in them. Refer to the eye chart if you need clarification.

The other person lying on the ground is just a random person. They aren't anyone in particular.

Paul's puppet is the only one with glowing strings, mainly because he is literally being controlled by Wiggly.

"Paulkins fluff" Paul's mug says "Kinda dead inside." I like to think Emma gets him a bunch of cheesy mugs.

Emma's shirt says "I survived the apocalypse." I think Paul would have a matching one that'd say "I kind of survived the apocalypse."

Paul's tie is a teenie bit loose.

Emma is sitting on a stool because she's so short that she needs a stool to rest her elbow on his shoulder.

"Is this the secret... Singing and dancing through life?" This is something that I think would take place in Paul's head as he cannot actually duplicate himself

This is kind of a visualization of the fight for control, and Paul seems to be losing as he is closer to the ground and doesn't seem to know what he's doing

"Take my hand, take my whole life, too" This is another one of Emma's nightmares in the hospital au.

This is actually inspired by a wedding photo I saw

Emma's eye is actually a dark blue if you zoom in. You will also notice she's leaking blue shit as well as blood from her mouth. She's currently in the process of being infected.

"This is not a dream my friend, and it will never end!" The key that the music in the background is in is f major. There's no specific song there, I just kinda added random notes (I'm a flute player if you must know).

Normal Paul's eyes are cracking, and the infected blue is peering through the cracks in his eyes.

Infected Paul looks like how he did during Let It Out.

"Close Your Eyes" Wiggly Paul is holding the Paul puppet again, as well as a knife

His sweater is also very torn and ripped

However, you'll notice wiggly paul himself has puppet strings, for Paul's body had literally become a puppet

"Trying to run from me, Em-my?" As soon as I read this line I knew I had to draw it

You can faintly see the outline of Wiggly in the background

Emma's not wearing her jacket or her hat anymore

You can see little patches of fur on Paul's arms

"Don't you know that you're toxic?" This is actually based off of something, but I refuse to talk about it here.

In other words, Paul doesn't just like shiny things.

I've started to play around with how I color in eyes, you'll notice they're a bit more detailed now.

Emma's dress was really fun to color (the top part uses five different layers alone, nevermind shading, lighting, and lineart)

They're actually in the middle of getting ready for a ball, which is why Paul doesn't have his jacket or gloves on

I initially did not intend to color this, but here we are

Some fun little facts about some of my artwork

(Basically I like adding small details and whenever someone points them out I become extremely happy because someone actually bothered to look)

"Do you believe in ghosts?" You'll notice that in the center of Paul's eye is a music note. That has remained consistent for all of my tgwdlm artwork whenever a character is infected

In the back of this you can see glowing eyes peering out. 

The set for this is in fact the tgwdlm set, however this is the lighting for the opening number, simply because I wanted it to be creepier.

"Am I crazy? I don't think so." Infected Paul's colors are blue, regular Paul's are yellow-orange

Something that bothers me about this picture is the anatomy, Paul's chin looks like it's going on for an eternity

Both Pauls have the exact same injuries, however they're different colors for what I think are obvious reasons

For both of my let it out pieces, Paul has the Exact Same Injuries because Consistency ™

"Should I Never Have Wanted?" The characters' fingertips, knees, elbows, noses, etc. are blue. This is consistent with every infected character, it's just sometimes hard to notice

I never actually use white for Paul and Emma's clothing, nor black. However, Paul and Emma's colors are exactly the same every time I draw them. I literally use the Exact Same colors. The only time I didn't do this is in "Do You Believe In Ghosts?"

Paul and Emma's eyes are completely blue, with the music notes being larger. There is no shine in their eyes

"Paul! You Made It!" There's a lot of things to notice in this one

First, Infected Paul has his fingers crossed behind his back

Emma is hunched over because of her leg

Shading and lighting has no effect on Ghost!Paul

Emma is wearing a "Welcome to Clivesdale" shirt simply because it bothered me that she was wearing the Exact Same Clothes as 2 weeks prior

Ghost!Paul is in a light blue hue.

The squares in the back are similar to "Am I crazy? I don't think so?" They're more rainbow because that's how the beginning of Inevitable is lit.

"Now you're Califor M.I.A." the shine in Lex's eyes are broken hearts

Ghost!Ethan is in a light green hue

"At least they're happy now" both Paul and Emma have hearts in their eyes

The background is the bisexual colors. That was intentional ;)

"Am I dead? I'm comin' apart at the seams" (this one is my favorite) you'll notice blue veins creeping up Paul's arms and neck

If you zoom into Paul's right eye (our left), you'll notice it's actually cracking, with blue peering through

His left eye is infected but there's also blue rings in it. Interpret this how you want ;)

A detail I've started to add in is that there's a lot of purple and blue under Paul's eyes, because he's basically dead y'know?

He's also crying. He's in a LOT of pain

Would this also be a good time to point out that yes the infected do have sharp teeth?

"Scream all you want, she can't hear you, no one can" Ghost!Paul has actually managed to make a crack in the mirror

"You will NEVER win." Infected Paul's eyes are even bluer in this one

The blue veins have even reached his face

The bruises on his neck are from McNamara choking him.

Infected!Paul is in a blue hue

Regular Paul has some internal bleeding going on

You cannot see his nose or his eyes

He is in a red hue

You'll also notice an injury on his chest

If you look at Wiggly!Paul, you'll notice he's holding a box cutter, implying he made that injury

Wiggly!Paul has several green patches, on his fingertips, in his hair, on his neck

There's also tentacles that have sprouted out of his stomach

Ouch

His eyes are green as hell with red in the center. This is actually different from being under the influence of Wiggly. Refer to my eye chart if you're confused (possessed by wiggly eyes are not on there but influenced by wiggly are)

There's blood coming out of his eyes

Yet his blood is also green

Confusing I know

Wiggly!Paul is in a green hue

There is a difference in expression between the two corrupted Pauls. Wiggly's is more evil and Infected's more manic

[dovechim]

the ocean

A/N: since it’s my birthday today, I wanted to give all my readers a gift for all your never ending support and patience!!!! thank you all so much for all your love!!!!

mermaid!Jimin x reader AU ft “what are those wiggly worms at the end of your legs?”

Summary: Sometimes, you have to lose your way before you can find yourself. It’s a tough world out there, especially in the world of ballet, but all it takes is one particularly fishy encounter to change your life forever. 

Word Count: 8.6k

“Honestly, why do you even bother getting a pedicure? You know they’re going to be ruined at the end of dance practice,” Joy tells you with a sniffle of disdain at your perfectly painted toenails as she winds tape around her own bare, unpainted toes.

You wiggle your toes in the air, admiring the glossy wine red of your newly acquired pedicure. It makes your feet look a little less bruised and battered, and even though you know the paint will chip off the second you step into your pointe shoes, it’s worth it nonetheless whenever you get to see your feet in flip flops. Which isn’t much, considering that you eat, sleep and breathe dance. It’s considered the norm here at Busan High School of Arts, and the bare minimum if you want to make the monthly cut where they eliminate the unskilled dancers in order to avoid wasting resources.

From the corner of your eye, you spot your dance teacher Seolhyun making her way into the room, and the other dancers are beginning to take their places for the routine warm up that starts every class. With practiced ease, you tape your toes into place to provide extra support and grab your pointe shoes, sliding into them, then doing up the ribbons securely around your ankles and tucking the ends away neatly. You take your place beside Joy near the front of the class and slip into the warm up that you could do with your eyes closed.

Once warm up is over, Seolhyun lines up the entire class in a single file facing her, running a critical eye over each dancer’s physique and position.

“It’s time for your weekly weigh in. Come up one by one to the scale when I call your name,” Seolhyun says as she reaches for a clipboard from her dance bag, glancing through the past records on it briefly. “Once you’re done with the weigh in, I expect you to start practicing your individual routines for the Divisional competition coming up.” She pauses briefly and smirks. “Unless your weight isn’t up to par, that is.”

The girls beside you suck in a nervous breath, and you feel a fresh wave of panic.

“I thought you told me the weigh-in was tomorrow!” You elbow Joy in the ribs, whispering furtively as the first girl steps up to the scale to be weighed.

Joy only winces apologetically, not daring to speak lest she be called up to be weighed first.

All of a sudden you feel like your leotard has shrunken a good two sizes, and it sticks to you like a second skin. You eye up all the other girls, inwardly cursing your family for insisting on that barbeque buffet just yesterday and trying your best to suck in your tummy and be as light as possible as your name is called. Feeling like you’re approaching your impending doom, you step up to the scale with your heart in your throat, feeling Seolhyun’s assessing gaze on you.

“Looks like you’ve gained weight, ________,” she says even before you step on the scale. After years of teaching thousands of students, Seolhyun’s practiced eye is never wrong. You squeeze your eyes shut and think of the breakfast and lunch you skipped today in order to make up for yesterday’s feasting, and pray for a miracle.

But the scale doesn’t lie, and your cheeks heat up when she calls out your weight to the rest of the class.

“50.3kg.” A chorus of snickers and chuckles follow, and you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood as you step off from the scale.

“You know what that means, _______. Pointe shoes off, running shoes on. 5 rounds around the school; loop around the beach before coming back. Don’t even think about practicing your routine until you’re well below 50kg.”

You duck your head and make a beeline for your dance bag near the back of the dance studio, avoiding the pitying gazes of your classmates as your switch shoes as fast as you can, ripping off the tape on your toes and feeling tears spring into your eyes, be it from pain or humiliation. Once out of the dance studio, you feel a little better, breathing comes a little easier as you set out on the all too familiar route.

*

By the time you’re on your last round, you’re absolutely drenched with sweat and every breath is a torture as you fight to keep placing one foot in front of the other. The salty breeze of the sea air provides little relief, and the soothing rhythm of the waves hitting the shore are urging you to slow down, and you give in to the temptation.

You kick off your shoes and dig your toes into the fine grains of pristine alabaster sand that feels like silk around your feet. The deep celestial waves of the ocean are hypnotic as it ebbs and flows, and you take one step after another until you’re almost knee deep. The sensation of the current working its way around you is almost strong enough to knock you off your feet, but the feeling of it against your sore muscles is heavenly and you close your eyes to savour it.

With your eyes closed, you don’t see the monster wave that approaches from a distance away until it crashes over your head and you’re submerged with a burning lungful of saltwater. Your feet struggle to find purchase on the seabed, only to find that the current has swept you further away from the shore. Panic fills your veins as you begin to thrash and flail around, struggling to get your head above water, but your weak limbs feel as heavy as lead and you can feel yourself slowly sinking.

But a pair of arms wraps around your waist securely, and you’re yanked up to the surface within seconds. Spluttering and coughing desperately, you blink the stinging salt water out of your eyes just as you register the feeling of a solid, warm body against yours. A blurry image of a boy with slate grey eyes and hair the colour of dark ashen blonde slowly comes into focus, and the piercing intensity of his concerned gaze steals your breath away. You’re speechless for a few seconds, transfixed by the plump fullness of his ruby red lips and the beads of water that sit upon his luminescent pearly skin that you don’t realise he’s talking to you until he has to repeat his question.

“Can you stand now?” His voice is a low rumble of satoori that sounds unfamiliar to you, having been brought up in Seoul, but you still get the gist and scramble to find purchase on the ground beneath you. You feet land easily on the soft bed of sand, and you realise that in the midst of your zoning out the handsome stranger must have navigated the both of you slightly closer to shore. You realise that your hands are flat on the stranger’s bare chest, and embarrassment heats up your cheeks as you rip your hands away immediately.

“Yes um… thank you so much,” you force your eyes to remain strictly on his damp ashen hair. “Where did you come from? I didn’t see anyone out swimming when I entered the water,” you narrow your eyes suspiciously.

The boy with gunmetal grey eyes smiles shyly, and his hands leave your waist to brush his damp hair away from his forehead. “Ah, I came in just after you did.”

That simple gesture of his is enough to transfix you as fumble around for a reply. The handsome stranger catches you staring at him and shoots you a bashful little smile as one of his hands brushes the back of his neck self consciously. “Will you be okay getting back from here?”

“Yes of course!! Thank you so much…” you let your voice trail off as you realise you’ve been ogling this man for the past five minutes but you don’t even know his name yet.

“Jimin. I’m Park Jimin,” he says with a grin that turns his eyes into little crescent moons.

“Ah, Jimin-ssi. Do you go to Busan Arts too? I’ve never seen you around town before,” you’re struggling to place his handsome face in your memory, but come up short.

He looks a little confused at your question, and the silence stretches for a tad too long. “Oh, um yes, I do go there!”

You’re about to ask what his major is when a shout interrupts, and you whip your head toward the shore only to find Joy waving at you frantically.

“________, are you alright?”

You wave back at her to let her know you’re fine, but when you turn back towards Jimin, your eyes are met with nothing but the sparkling sapphire waters, any single trace of the boy with grey eyes and ashen hair has disappeared.

*

“Did you hear a single word I just said?”

You wrench your eyes back to Joy, who’s sitting on her bed across the room from you. Wincing apologetically, you return to massaging your sore calves and trying to remember where you left off in your daily stretching routine.

Joy only sighs in response. “As I was saying, Yeri got commended by coach today. You’d better watch out, she’s using the same song as you isn’t she? If her routine’s better she’ll definitely one up you during Divisionals.”

“Oh did she?” You can only manage an uninterested sniffle as you reach toward your beside table for your pack of soothing muscle patches. Normally you’d be a lot more concerned about your long time rival earning the rare praises of Seolhyun unnie, but today you have a lot more on your mind than usual. More specifically, a boy with ashen hair and piercing slate grey eyes.

“______, you sure you’re okay? What happened to you today, why were you in the sea? You were gone for so long and I was so worried that I rushed over after training,” Joy pouts even as she shoots you a concerned look.

“Joy, I need to ask you something,” you ignore her questions. “When you saw me in the sea this afternoon, was there anyone else in the water with me?”

She doesn’t even hesitate before answering. “What are you talking about? I saw you standing waist deep in the water alone, that’s why I was so worried. I thought you were committing suicide or something.” She pauses, eyes widening in realisation. “You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you? After how harsh Seolhyun unnie was today…”

“No! Of course I wasn’t,” you rush to reassure her, but your mind has already started to wander. How could Joy not have seen him in the water with you? Was he entirely a figment of your imagination? Closing your eyes, you can almost feel the lingering touches of his hands on your waist, the warmth emanating from his slim, muscular body and the musical lilt that accompanies the rough satoori of his voice. Your imagination may be rich, but there’s no way you’re capable of dreaming up someone like him. Resolve settles in the pit of your stomach as you glance at your running shoes by the door.

5 rounds around the school doesn’t sound so bad, all of a sudden.

*

To your disappointment, the vast spread of the ocean lies before you, completely bare of any human presence. You struggle to regulate your breathing, hunched over with your hands braced on your knees for support. In an attempt not to arouse suspicion or worry from Joy like the day before, you’d increased your jogging speed to finish your rounds faster so that you’d have a little time to spare at the end before heading back.

You kick off your shoes once more and nearly moan in relief the moment your sweaty, cramped toes hit the cool water. Hiking up your shorts, you venture in a little further until the water hits mid thigh. If you close your eyes for a moment, you can almost feel the lulling crash of the waves wash away the stinging humiliation of the previous day’s events, and the stifling worry of not being able to train. The way the water moves and bends around you even as the current continues to ebb and flow is therapeutic, and you whisper his name under your breath unknowingly.

The constant swirling of water around you is interrupted, causing you to open your eyes, only to be met with Park Jimin’s grey ones. Elation and delight erupts in your chest, and a grin creeps onto your face when you see him greeting you with a shy smile, tousling his soaked ashen locks carelessly. He’s shirtless again, and you only allow your eyes to roam the creamy expanse of his chest for a few seconds before wrangling them back to his face.

“Park Jimin. Is the sea your second home or something? You’re always soaked to the bone,” you refrain from adding a stupid comment about how hot he looks. “Oh, and hi again.”

He chuckles as he blinks the water from his eyes, and the sound shoots a thrill through you, the melodious sound of his laughter riding the salty breeze makes you want to dance more than any musical piece has.

“Hi, ________,” a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I guess you could say that, or you could go even further and say that it’s my first home.”

“I didn’t get to ask you what your major is yesterday. You disappeared all of a sudden, where did you go?”

“I’m undeclared,” he says with an air of ease, running a hand through his wet hair, and your eyes are transfixed on that particular droplet of water that navigates its way down his firm chest towards the sharply defined lines of his abs before disappearing below the surface of the water where he stands a little further out to sea. It’s so distracting that you don’t realise that he never answers your second question, but asks one of his own instead. “What’s your major?”

“O-oh, I’m a dance major. Ballet, more specifically.” He flashes you a little smirk when he catches you staring, and your cheeks heat up in response and you have to make a conscious effort not to stutter. “Do you always go swimming in the sea shirtless like this? Are you intending to be a synchronised swimmer or something?”

“Synchronised swimming? Do they have things like that at Busan Arts?” You were only teasing him, but his question is so genuine that you can’t help but smile. “And do you always go swimming in the sea fully clothed like this?”

His lingering gaze makes you feel a little bolder, there’s no mistaking that spark of attraction that lingers in the salty breeze between the two of you. “Only when there are cute shirtless boys around.”

He rewards you with a smile that makes his cheeks round and his eyes crease into crescent moons, and it makes you forget about all the weight that you have to lose before tomorrow’s weigh in, takes your mind off the consequences of not being able to practice when it’s this close to Divisionals.

“Will I still see you again? I mean, you never used to come here until yesterday,” Park Jimin avoids your gaze shyly as he reaches to rub the back of his neck.

“Hopefully not,” you start to say, only to catch a glimpse of his crestfallen expression before you hurry on. “If I lose enough weight before tomorrow, I won’t have to come running anymore, and I get to practice my routine for the upcoming competition. So consider it good news if you don’t see me here tomorrow,” you throw in a nervous laugh for good measure in an attempt to lighten the suddenly sombre atmosphere.

When he doesn’t say anything in response, you attempt to break the awkward silence. “But hey, we could meet up in school or something? Just come by the dance building, you know where it is right?”

Jimin brightens considerably at your suggestion, “oh yeah, that’s right! In school, we could always meet in school! It slipped my mind for a moment.”

His adorable fumbling is endearing, and you sincerely hope that you’ll be able to see him again.

“It’s to the left of the music center,” you tell him as you begin to make your way out of the water, all too aware of the weight of his gaze on your back.

*

If looks could kill, you’d be dead ten times over under the weight of Seolhyun unnie’s glare as she stares down at the class in front of her critically. When she spots you standing in the middle row, she raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“_______ssi, I suppose you think you’re ready to come back and practice now?”

“Yes, Coach-nim,” you barely keep your voice steady, and she gives you an unimpressed smile in return.

“I guess there’s only one way to prove it then. Get the scale.” You hurry to the back of the dance studio and reach for the cupboard where the scale is kept, tiptoeing in an effort to reach the highest shelf where it’s stashed away. Cursing under your breath, your heart rate speeds up as anxiety begins to consume you when you can feel the whole class watching you struggle.

Just then, salvation comes in the form of a knock on the door, and you watch from the corner of your eye as Seolhyun takes her eyes off you and heads toward the door. Relief floods your entire body and Joy takes the opportunity while Seolhyun is distracted to rush over and grab the scale off the shelf for you before taking her original place.

You can barely regulate your breathing enough to thank her as you clutch the scale to your chest for dear life, closing the cupboard doors gingerly before turning around and heading toward the front of the room where Seolhyun stands, but you realise that she’s not alone. A boy with ashen blonde hair dressed in a loose white dress shirt and black pants that mold perfectly to his sculpted thighs stands fidgeting beside her, and the rest of the class is slowly erupting in supressed giggles and barely controlled swooning over how good looking this new stranger is.

Except he’s not a stranger to you.

You frantically try to catch his eye, wondering why he chooses now of all time to show up here. You’d expected him to wait till after class has ended, or look for you outside the dance studio like any normal person, not simply just knock and walk in on a lesson. Seolhyun unnie hates interruptions, and she’ll probably eat him alive for having the guts to walk in while she’s having class, you should probably tell him to run while he can-

“Class, this is Park Jimin, and he’ll be joining our class from now on.”

You almost drop the glass scale in your arms as you try to process what Seolhyun unnie just said, and your eyes immediately shift over to Jimin as he bows politely and introduces himself. He catches a glimpse of you standing slightly apart from the others, with wide eyes and clasping a weighing scale, and gives you his signature shy smile. The rest of the girls start gushing even more at the sight of this, each of them tittering to the other that Park Jimin smiled at them, when Seolhyun quietens everyone by clearing her throat. She glances at Jimin, taking in his form from head to toe, and you recognise that look that she has in her eyes, that penchant she has for humiliating others and putting them in the spotlight, literally and figuratively. A sense of dread creeps into your stomach.

“Park Jimin-ssi, I understand that you have some background of modern dance, is that so? Would it be too much to ask for quick freestyle? Of course, if you’re not ready, that’s completely fine…” Her sentence trails off as she offers a flimsy smile that only thinly disguises her veiled threats.

You watch, frozen, as Jimin bites his plush lower lip in consternation, casting a quick glance at you before seemingly steeling himself, taking in a deep breath and brushing the flaxen hair from his forehead.

“I would be delighted to, Coach-nim,” he says in his heavily accented Busan satoori that has even Seolhyun’s own strict no nonsense expression softening just a tad.

The rest of the class immediately clears out, forming two neat lines of observers and leaving the main centre area of the studio clear for Jimin as he takes his spot. Seolhyun makes her way to the AV station in the corner of a room, taking a moment to select an appropriate soundtrack for him. As strains of a familiar song seep into your consciousness, your eyes are trained on the boy with gunmetal grey eyes and ashen blonde hair, who has a look of concentration fixed upon his features as he listens to the opening notes of the song.

He almost seems to melt into the music, his body bending and flowing in a way that reminds you of the ocean waves and his movements are so fluid and effortless, yet the controlled strength and power behind them are easily apparent. Any trace of the shy boy from the ocean is gone, and he seems like a different person entirely, his intense sultry gaze capturing and holding you hostage. When he closes his eyes, the depth of his passion is painted in the way he throws his head back, exposing the creamy column of his throat, in the preciseness of every single turn and that final graceful leap that showcases his lithe strength and raw power.

Park Jimin breaks position, panting and avoiding eye contact with the girls in the front row who are admiring every single line of his body with open-mouthed stares. For a moment, no one in the studio speaks, and the only sound is of his harsh breathing. You take a moment to sneak a glance at Seolhyun, who looks pretty shell-shocked. Jimin’s eyes find yours in the back row, and he bites his lip uncertainly before offering you a timid little smile.

The spell of silence is finally broken by Seolhyun’s clapping, and the rest of the class turns to stare at her for a few seconds before belatedly joining in. Seolhyun has never praised a student so outrightly like this before. Jimin’s smile widens, and he ruffles his hair before bowing in thanks.

“The rest of you, get back to your routines. Park Jimin-ssi, may I speak with you for a moment?” Her strict, no nonsense tone cuts through the mayhem of high pitched giggling and swooning, but the rest of the class follows along obediently as she takes Jimin to the far end of the studio.

You hurry and stash the scale back in its original place, hoping that Seolhyun doesn’t remember about it before joining Joy in the opposite corner.

“So. The new guy’s kinda hot huh?” Joy says as she sneaks a glance at him with Seolhyun.

“Mhm, I guess,” you say, feigning disinterest as you begin to warm up at the barre. Even as you start to practice your routine, you can see Seolhyun finally dismissing Jimin from the corner of your eye, and when you register that he’s walking in your direction, you bend over a little more than necessary mid split. Your efforts at avoiding the handsome boy who dances better than half of this class are aided when Yeri stops him with a hand on his arm, praises about his freestyle gushing from her glib little tongue and trailing appreciative eyes all over his lithe frame. Jimin is slightly uncomfortable as he fidgets under her touch, but becomes slightly more at ease when Yeri asks him to demonstrate a particular movement again. It seems like his shyness melts away when he’s dancing, but not that you’re secretly watching him from the mirror.

*

Sweat is pouring down your face, and your bun is coming loose, but you don’t take your eyes off your form in the mirror as you spin once, twice, thrice, and then one final time. You lose your focus near the end of the last spin, causing your turns to end up messy and amateurish.

“_________-ah, maybe four turns is too much. Reducing it to three should be better,” Joy says as she sees your distress in the mirror from where she’s working on her routine.

“Yeri has four turns,” you manage through gritted teeth, positioning your feet and bracing yourself to try again.

You push off with one foot and keep your gaze locked in the mirror, fighting to keep your balance. But this time, you falter in the middle of your second turn and end up in a heap of limbs on the shiny floor of the dance studio, attracting mocking giggles and pitying looks. Trying not to groan, you fight to untangle your legs and get back on your feet, when Seolhyun claps to gather attention.

“Class, that’s all for today, good work everyone! For those who are still lacking,” here she pauses and looks directly at you, “please work harder! Divisionals are a week away!”

Majority of the class packs up and gets ready to leave once she exits the studio, and you hear Yeri offering to buy Jimin a meal under the pretense of welcoming him to the dance family. Rolling your eyes, you strengthen your resolve and walk toward the AV corner to set up your soundtrack.

“__________, you coming?” Joy hesitates at the door when everyone else has already left.

You massage your neck wearily, “You should go ahead. I have two days of practice to make up for.”

When the door closes behind her, you press play and walk to the centre of the dim studio, rotating your neck in an attempt to get rid of the stiffness. Closing your eyes, you let the music seep into your bones as you fall into your familiar routine with a sense of practiced ease until you reach the pirouettes. Gritting your teeth, you put every ounce of energy and focus into perfecting the continuous turns, but there’s a sharp twinge in the arch of your foot and you lose balance again, landing harshly on your shins. Tears are welling up and overflowing before you realise it, and you can’t distinguish tears from sweat anymore as you furiously undo the laces of your shoes and throw them across the room in frustration as the last notes of the song fades and the sound of your sobs fill the studio.

The floorboards creak behind you and you whip your head around immediately, wiping at your face and trying to pretend you’re just dabbing the sweat off your face in case it’s Seolhyun unnie, or even worse, Yeri. But the silhouette that stands in the doorway only reaches to ruffle his hair nervously with his sweater paws, and it sends a smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself.

“Um, hey. How long have you been standing there?” You greet him with a raw voice, and you immediately clear your throat to try and hide the evidence of your breakdown.

“Not very long,” he says as he approaches, tossing you a paper bag and a sports drink.

You just manage to catch them in midair, setting the blue sports drink aside to take a peek in the paper bag. “Doughnuts? Jimin, thank you for this but I need to watch my weight or Seolhyun unnie will-”

“I know a way to mess with the weighing scale so you’ll always be half a kg lighter,” he says, deadpan.

“Wait what? How do you do that?”

He gives you a secretive smirk. “Eat it, then I’ll tell you.”

“You don’t really know, do you?” You narrow your eyes at him, but open the paper bag and reach for the sugar covered confectionery anyway, taking a bite out of it. Almost immediately you close your eyes and moan at the sweet bliss hitting your deprived taste buds. “This is so good, I can’t even remember the last time I had sugar that wasn’t fruit.”

“Oh. So that’s what the girl at the pastry shop meant when she told me her melons were just as sweet.”

You sputter in response, a cloud of powdered sugar spraying from your mouth. “Wait what?”

“Although why would she be selling fruit at a pastry shop though?” He scrunches his nose in thought, looking genuinely puzzled and all you want to do is squish his little button nose fondly.

“You got me, Park Jimin,” you say in the midst of giggles. “Although when you said meet in school, I had no idea we’d be meeting like this. You’re lucky Seolhyun unnie didn’t bite your head off for interrupting her class.” You rip a piece off the sweet pastry to demonstrate.

Jimin winces in response. “Well, I saved you from that weigh-in, didn’t I? Is she that bad? She told me it was too late to enter me into Divisionals, but she seemed pretty nice when she told me I was good.”

“She’s nice only to those who are talented, aka not me.”

“Oh.”

There’s a period of silence where he just watches as you lick powdered sugar from your fingers, and when you’re done, you stretch out your legs, wincing at the tension in your muscles.

“Um, thank you for this. But I have to get back to practicing, or else I won’t be able to make it to Divisionals.”

“You’re welcome, __________. But um… I saw that you were having some trouble with your turns.  If you don’t mind, I could give you some pointers?” He avoids your gaze by studying the wine red of your painted toenails intently, and his shyness is beyond adorable.

“Oh, uh okay, I could use all the help I can get,” you say as you flex your feet and wiggle your taped toes, loosening up your ankles in preparation.

“I just have one question,” Jimin is still staring at your toes. “What are those wiggly worms at the ends of your legs?”

*

You collapse onto your bed in a sweaty mess, too achy and tired to even change into sweats for bed.

“How’s your routine coming along?” Joy asks from her place on her bed across you, although her words are a little muffled by the facial mask she has on.

“Fine I guess,” you don’t tell her about Park Jimin staying back to help you even though it’s nothing much to be secretive of, but for some reason you like how it’s something that only the two of you are aware of and you’d like to keep it that way. If Joy were to somehow gain knowledge of this, the whole class is likely to know about it within the hour.

Just the thought of Park Jimin has your stomach fluttering with butterflies in the most cliché way ever, but in your defense, he’s truly one of a kind. When you nervously asked him for his phone number after today’s practice, he shot you a puzzled look and asked you what a phone was. He’s mostly shy and a little awkward at times around you, but when he dances, he transforms into an entirely different person altogether. It’s that Park Jimin you’re transfixed by, the way he creates living and breathing art with every sweep of his arms or twist of his body that inspires you and rekindles your love for dance despite the many hardships it comes with.

Over the next week or so, he continues to help you with your routine tirelessly, ignoring Yeri’s whines and pestering (to your secret satisfaction). Time passes in a blur of practice, muscle aches and the almost forbidden thrill of his hands on your waist every time he guides you into your turns during class and his soothing massages that he insists on giving you when everyone else has already left the studio.

But the day before Divisionals, you notice that Park Jimin isn’t his usual chipper self. He’s more withdrawn than usual, and his luminous, pearlescent skin is looking a little grey. The once intense gunmetal grey of his eyes now resembles a dull rain cloud on a stormy day.

“Jimin, are you sure you’re okay? You missed a turn or two in class today, and you’re never less than perfect.”

His answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he squeezes your calf in reassurance. “I’m fine, maybe a little tired that’s all.”

“You should go back to the dorms, you’ve done enough for me,” you say as you scoot closer to him, reaching to brush a stray piece of hair out of his eyes.

“No, it’s okay, I-“

“Besides, I think I need some time alone to mentally prepare myself for tomorrow,” you’d rather not lie to him if you can, but this is the only way to get his stubborn self out the door and into bed for some much needed rest. Jimin gives you a hesitant look, his teeth buried into his lower lip before nodding reluctantly.

He shifts from his position on the floor onto his knees, and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead. You freeze in response, feeling your breath catch in your throat. He’s never made a move like this before, all your previous interactions were limited to flirty touches and lingering glances, but this is a whole new level.

“This is what a guy does when he likes a girl, isn’t it? I’ve seen it in dramas.”

You can feel his plush lips smiling as he rests them against your forehead before he pulls away, heading for the door without a second glance backwards.

*

The waiting room is absolute chaos, but you’re thankful for the invention of earpieces as you sit in a corner, trying to calm yourself down. The classical piece that you’re listening to is the exact same one that you’ll dance to in a few minutes. Picturing each and every single move in your head, by the time the song repeats itself for the third time, you’ve convinced yourself that you couldn’t be any more prepared for this.

Not until Yeri plops down in the chair next to you.

“Nervous?” She holds up a handheld mirror, smoothing the flyaways of her bun back into place.

“Nope.” You give her a short reply on purpose to irk her, but she doesn’t fall for it.

“Pity. True professionals work well under stress.”

Gritting your teeth, you up the volume on your music, hoping to drown her out. But Seolhyun approaches the both of you at that instant, and you’re forced to take your earpieces out.

She addresses you first. “___________, remember to keep your balance during the turns. If you feel like you’re going to lose control, just stop at three, it’s better to risk a lower difficulty score rather than have points taken off for a fall.”

“Yes, unnie.”

“My turns are perfect, aren’t they Coach-nim?” Yeri puckers her lips at her reflection in her mirror, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, you excuse yourself politely and head towards Joy who’s still trying to perfect her makeup.

“Hey, I saw Park Jimin out there,” she says by way of greeting, with her eyes still focused on her reflection as she applies a second coat of mascara.

“Really?”

“I wonder who he’s here to see,” she shoots you a sly look, and you turn away to hide the smile that sneaks its way onto your lips. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together hmmm? Don’t think I don’t notice the way he touches you when he “helps” you with your turns. And even if you don’t talk about it, I recognise that look on your face.”

“What look?’

“Lovesickness.”

You spin around and swat at her arm. “I am not lovesick! And he is actually helping with my turns, thank you very much.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Joy smirks at herself in the mirror before closing the tube and turning to look at you directly. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling? I know you kept tossing and turning last night, did you get enough sleep?”

“I got maybe 4 hours max. But I’ll be fine,” you hurriedly reassure her when she frowns.

“___________, please get ready, you’re on standby! Onstage in 2 minutes!” The official reads off from a clipboard before craning her neck to search the sea of dancers crowding the waiting room for you.

Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat when you hear your name being called, and you smooth down the front of your costume before giving Joy’s shoulder a nervous squeeze.

“I’ll see you later.” Shooting her a weak smile, you head towards the stage entrance and wait with bated breath.

The minutes tick down into seconds before the doors are thrown open and you allow yourself one more moment of anxiety. The moment you take a step out into the harsh glow of the spotlight, your best show stopping smile is on display, and you take a few precious seconds to search the crowd before coming to rest on a head of ashen blonde hair. The way he smiles back at you sets your heart at ease, and all of a sudden, the deafening sound of the audience’s cheers and claps are gone, the four judges who stare you down with their intimidating glares disappear, until all that’s left is you and Park Jimin.

Your body automatically lowers in the mandatory curtsy before the streams of an all too familiar song starts, and in that moment you forget everything else except that pair of gunmetal grey eyes fixed on you. By now you move more out of muscle memory than anything else, but infused into every movement is a passionate remembrance of the boy from the ocean. You glide through your routine effortlessly, your presence filling up every inch of the stage and when it comes to your pirouettes, all you have to do is think about Park Jimin guiding you into every turn with his hands on your waist to nail them perfectly, and the audience erupts into an applause that does not stop even after you give your final bow and walk off the stage.

“Oh my god you were great!!! Your turns were perfect!” Joy bombards you with a hug the moment you enter the backstage waiting room, and you laugh in relief with her. “We’ll see what that bitch Yeri has to say now!!”

“Joy! What if she hears you?” You chide her but you can’t stay angry for long when she’s bouncing around in happiness like this.

“Who cares? That little bitch deserves this, she thinks she’s so good and all-“

“Joy I think they just called your name!”

“Shit did they?? Ok love you see you later bye!!”

“Break a leg!” You call after her as she sprints off.

You’re filled with the rush of endorphins from your performance, and it feels impossible to be able to sit still in the waiting room to wait for the release of results. You know that you should stay here to congratulate Joy after she finishes her performance, but the thought of remaining in the stifling little waiting room for a second longer is unbearable. So you grab your bag from the chair in the corner, stuffing all your belongings in before sneaking out of the waiting room and into the performance hall. Craning your neck to see over the numerous heads, you try to spot Park Jimin where you last saw him when you were on stage, but your estimation must be lacking since you don’t see his bright blonde head anywhere in the hall.

A sense of worry begins to fill your chest when you remember his ashen complexion from the day before. You automatically reach for your phone to call him, only to stuff it back into your pocket in frustration when you remember that he told you he doesn’t own one. Letting yourself out of the hall as quietly as you can, you make your way back to the entrance of the waiting room, hoping that he’s there.

You peek your head into the waiting room and scan for any sign of an ashen blonde head, but the room is only filled with nervous girls pacing up and down, warming up and having silent meltdowns. Closing the door, you groan in frustration, spinning around on your heel before deciding to try the performance hall again. But you run smack into a slightly taller figure as soon as you try and take a few steps, and you’re about to give this person hell for blocking your way when you realise that the stranger’s chest feels familiar.

“You did so well out there!” His voice is a little rough, but no doubt it’s Park Jimin.

“Yah pabo! I was looking for you everywhere, where did you go? And you don’t have a phone either-“ You look up into his face, and he looks worse off from the day before. There are dark circles around his weary eyes, his normally shiny hair looks dull and unkempt. Cupping his cheeks with both hands, you’re startled at how warm he feels, to the extent of burning up.

“I’m okay, but you were so amazing-“

“Jimin, why do you feel feverish? When did this start? You should have stayed in your room, why did you come here?”

“I had to support you of course,” he smiles at you weakly, taking one of his hands from your waist to brush your cheek, and you nearly flinch at how hot his palm is.

“Jimin-ah, let me help you back to your room so you can rest okay? You shouldn’t have come,” you chide him gently even as you slide your arm around his waist and start to walk in the direction of the dorms.

“I’m really okay,” he continues to insist even as he’s too weak to resist. But you only manage to take a few steps before he stumbles, and his weight sends the both of you tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Panicked tears fill your eyes as you struggle to right the both of you, but Jimin doesn’t respond.

“Jimin? Park Jimin? Answer me!!” You shift him into a sitting position before abandoning your grip on his waist to cradle his head instead. He is deathly pale, and his lips are almost bloodless, his eyelashes dusting the very tops of his cheeks. Panic wells up in your chest as you fight to remain calm, tapping his cheek in an attempt to get a response from him as you sob his name.

His eyes flutter open.

“Jimin, you’ll be alright, I’m calling the nurse right now ok?” You fumble in your bag for your phone before belatedly remembering that you’d stuffed it in your pocket.

“No, no nurse,” he manages a weak plea as he reaches to stop you.

“C’mon, don’t be stubborn-“

“Sea.” “What?” You stop in the midst of scrolling through your contacts list for the nurse’s number.

“I need to go to the sea.”

*

“Ahjussi, please go faster if you can,” you fight to keep your calm, running your fingers through Jimin’s hair as your cradle his head in your lap.

The taxi driver only grunts in response, but he speeds up considerably. The pounding of your heart slows down slightly when you see the familiar shore of the sea.

“Jimin, we’re nearly there. How are you feeling? Talk to me ok?”

He shifts to bury his nose in your stomach, and his voice comes out in a murmur. “You smell good.”

If the situation were different, you would have laughed, but for now you settle for stroking his hair in an attempt to soothe not only him, but yourself as well.

The taxi screeches to a stop just beyond the where the sandy beach starts, and you hastily shove a wad of cash into his hands, telling him to keep the change before throwing open the door and helping Jimin out.

“Jimin, what now? We’re here, like you asked.” He takes a deep breath, scenting the salty ocean breeze, and there seems to be a little bit more colour in his cheeks now. But he’s still too weak to walk on his own.

“I need to go into the sea,” he says softly.

“Ok, let’s go,” you don’t question him and immediately start making your way toward the water, kicking off your slippers in the process.

You wince when you feel the cold water hit your toes, but it doesn’t have quite the same effect on Jimin. His entire body relaxes as soon as it comes into contact with the water, and he moans in relief.

“___________, I need to submerge my legs in the seawater. Let me go, I can manage from here.” He attempts to escape from your grasp, but you hold on to his waist tightly.

“What? No, I’m not letting you drown after I dragged your ass all the way here, Park Jimin.” Taking several steps forward, you don’t stop until you’re waist deep.

You turn to look at Jimin again, but he has his eyes closed once more. Worry threatens to consume you, until you realise that his complexion looks so much better, his cheeks are beginning to look rosy again, and his lips are as plush and ruby red as when you first saw him right here in the ocean. Pressing a hand to his forehead, his temperature has also gone down significantly, and he feels normal to the touch now.

“Jimin-“ your eyes stray to the lower half of his body to assess his condition, but the rest of your words are stuck in your throat.

Instead of a pair of legs encased in black denim jeans, under the surface of the crystal clear water lies a tail that resembles a dolphin’s, except this one is completely covered in glimmering holographic scales, so that his tail is a combination of emerald and turquoise under the glare of the sun. The scales are tessellated in neat rows that end just below his navel, and they look smooth to the touch. His tail tapers gracefully into a delicate fan of black tipped fins where each foot should be, and the intense jet-black makes the main periwinkle and viridian body of his tail stand out even more.

You open and close your mouth like a fish, speechless for once in your life.

“You look like a fish that I ate for dinner once,” Park Jimin comments drily, scrutinising your expression carefully.

“Wh-where are your legs? Oh my god. This is not happening right now. You’re a mermaid??”

“I believe the more accurate term is merman,” he scrunches his nose at you, and if you just keep your eyes above the surface of the water, you can almost pretend that it’s still Park Jimin you’re talking to, human Park Jimin.

“So they exist,” you’re breathless and mesmerised by the motion of his tail as it cuts through the water effortlessly, creating a gentle current that swirls around the both of you like an embrace. And it all falls into place. His strange comments, literal fish out of water behaviour, and your initial meeting right at this spot weeks ago.

“But… why did you come to Busan Arts? And you look like you’ve been dancing for years, not like someone who walked out of the ocean and entered a dance studio.”

He shrugs. “When your friend interrupted us on the first day, I couldn’t let her see me because it was just too dangerous for our community to be exposed to humans. But I hated myself so much for letting you slip away. So when you showed up again the next day, I was so thankful and I had to find some way of seeing you again.

As for dance, it’s similar to swimming in the ocean, just on land I guess. It comes naturally to me, but of course I had to get used to legs first,” Jimin laughs. “But I’m a fast learner.”

“No, wait. I don’t understand. Just a few moments ago you were so feverish, I was so scared, Jimin!” It’s too much information to process at once, so you decide to focus on the present issue.

“Merfolk are able to leave the sea and walk on land for short periods of time, we’ve adapted after centuries of evolution. But we start to get sick if we aren’t in contact with sea water after a few days.” His gunmetal grey eyes are fixed on yours, and just like that a sense of calm settles within you.

“Why did you do something so stupid? Living at Busan Arts to help me with my routine? You could have been killed!” You reach to slap him on the chest, but he grabs your hand with his own deftly and pulls you into his arms.

“Humans can be really stupid sometimes,” he sighs against your ear, and the rush of his breath makes electricity spark through you. You open your mouth to retort, but he silences you with a soft hush. “When we fall in love, it’s in our destiny to walk to the ends of the earth searching for that person until we find them. The equivalent of failing is a slow and painful death, so I figured I’d take my chances.”

Resting your chin on the sculpted ridge of his collarbone, you allow yourself to relax into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body comforting you.

“I think your chances are pretty good.”

*

Outtake

You watch from the door of your bathroom as Jimin runs a towel through his damp hair, and you’re jealous of the way his shiny ashen blonde hair falls in perfect beachy waves over his forehead. It must be a mermaid- no wait, merfolk thing, you decide. No mortal human has hair that perfect, or a smile that pearlescent, or abs that defined, or-

“Like what you see?”

“Pfft. Don’t get ahead of yourself or your head might not fit through that door.”

Jimin is genuinely confused. “What? Why would my head not be able to fit through this door? I fit easily just five minutes ago.

It still slips your mind that he takes things way too literally sometimes, and you give a playful roll of your eyes.

“Hey, don’t you need to go back to the competition to wait for the results?”

“What for? I already know I’ve won first place.” You wait until a grin spreads across his face and he looks like he’s about to implode from excitement.

“First place in your heart, that is.” You erupt into giggles when you see the peeved expression on his face, doubling over in laughter.

“Wow, eomma was right. Humans are a cheesy bunch,” he grumbles as he turns back to the mirror.

“Jiminnie, I just have one question for you,” you manage to stop laughing and take a few deep breaths.

“How do merfolk have sex?”

A/N: i honestly did not expect it to turn out this long, but oh well :’) thank you all for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! i was partially inspired by legend of the blue sea and also weightlifting fairy! omg i love weightlifting fairy i can’t believe it ended already :’( please let me know what you think!

addie

[yespoetry]

Russell Jaffe: See the Lights

MY GIRLFRIEND WORKS AT THE NEW YORK TRANSIT MUSEUM My girlfriend always takes 400 years of development to get there. She sees the lights of the alarm and the sun coming from under the blinds. This is her signal to get up; I wait for the signal to go. I lay in bed, sometimes I close my eyes and pretend to sleep and then fall asleep; she clatters the medicine cabinets open and closed. Her makeup is in a cardboard cube getting dampened by the humidifier. My girlfriend and I see eye to eye: she knows I want to go home but I don’t know what home is, but between these rail cars she makes a meager living and she leaves artifacts around the apartment I pick up, study, roll on. My girlfriend’s butt fits into her jeans as the road leads soft cars south to the heart shaped chili pepper corner of Brooklyn. Her feet pepper the sidewalk on her way to the train and she wonders what the little kids will be like on the tour she gives today and what kinds of maps they’ll draw when they’re given a box of crayons and a blank sheet covered in the wiggly lined skeleton of the city’s underground. When she gives them the signal they can color at will. Some leave their drawings behind in the unlit tunnels of the museum. Little feet in between rail cars, old advertisements, yellow and promising. Also almost entirely decayed. The road does this also under the cars. New iron, old laws and rules. Did you know the tunnels are different sizes because different train companies built different trains to specifically go through them? I wait in line to go in to see her. She pulls up always from the back, circular wheels once pumping, borne home; she and her wonderment meet me and sometimes we go to trivia at near Atlantic Avenue. The little cars coming in to New York City over the briny sea see the lights, so they don’t wonder much at all. N LINE Story old as (time) itself, cobbled together by tired hands, laid into tunnels of men. Time’s stinky bootstraps, time’s laces undone make little clicking noises along the wet ingots. Time’s feet are rock. Time has purchased itself cold medication that goes right to the guts, swims through deep digestive systems and back into the sea. When they dig the tunnels it’s an elemental science, like bones, like how the museum exhibit said the bones of dinosaurs were sitting like birds on their eggs and then they were gone. The train is empty. We knew a lot about winter, the old iron clambered together with sooty hands. The flicker of headlamps on, the line of lettering, the N. The train I take today. Today, this winter, Nobody. The pick in the rock is a calligraphy of years and tongues. Two little rocks are a nose. The face of this civilization is crying on the side of a building, saying “don’t give them your eyes, give them the cardboard cutout of your face.”

Editor's Note: These poems appeared in a previous issue.

Russell Jaffe is the editor of TL;DR magazine (tldrmagazine.com), teaches at Loyola University in Chicago and Fusion Academy in Oak Brook, and stars in literary study guides for Course Hero (https://www.youtube.com/user/CourseHeroVideo/playlists). 

He is the author of the poetry collections This Super Doom I Aver (Poets Democracy, '12), INTROVERT//EXTROVERT (Punk Hostage Press, '14), LA CROIX WATER (Damask, '16), and Civil Coping Mechanisms (Civil Coping Mechanisms, '17). He loves being a dad, seltzer, and pro wrestling. How are things in your town?