#i’m currently walking around my house going on a full tangent

[meathounding]

i think pinning everything to in one way or another being the work of god or some higher power is really boring

don’t you wanna think

[tonksiefea]

How I know You|| Original Fantasy Romance

So this is Chapter 1 of a story I've been working on. It's currently 17 Chapters and counting but I'm hitting that point in my process where I want to delete everything and never touch a computer again so I figured I'd got some reasonable people to tell me I'm right! LOL I kid! Thank you to @soinspiredbyyou Who kindly encouraged me to post it Summary: Raziel "Rae" Marsh is an anxious newly published author who moved to a mountain town to escape her loving but overbearing parents. Things get a little complicated when a Fantasy Writer meets a Forest Ranger who starts making her books seem a little more realistic than Fairy Stories ever should.

Chapter 1

“No. Mom, I'm fine. I promise, I’m doing great. You and dad do not need to come get me. I'm an adult. Yes, I’m eating, no I’m not dating anyone, yes the book tour went fine and the new house is beautiful. I even found a coffee shop to work in.” Raziel, who would not share her full name under penalty of death and instead preferred Rae, loved her mother. She really did. 

Rae got a lot of things from her mother. Her red hair, her green eyes, her freckles, her talent for language, and most of all her overwhelming anxiety and worry for the slightest change to her life. 

What she did not get from her mother was the woman’s constant insistence that she find a husband, settle down, and start pumping out children like she needed to single handedly re-populate the earth. That part she could do without. 

It was part of the reason Rae had taken the money from her first successful fantasy book, touted to be the next “Chronicles of Narnia”, and moved to a secluded mountain town in Colorado where the population fluctuated between triple and quadruple digits depending on the season. She much preferred the quiet town life to anything else and she was finally able to live her dream of a quiet secluded life as a hermit writer. 

“Mom, I gotta go! I’m walking into the cafe. I’ll call you when I get home. No, mom I’m going to write. I can't spend my whole time talking on the phone. Because, mother, it’s rude.” Rae rolled her eyes as her mother launched into another tangent that would take forever. “Goodbye Mom. I love you.” She sighed and hung up instantly feeling a surge of overwhelming guilt for hanging up. 

She knew her mom meant well and she loved talking to her but right now Rae just needed some quiet. She needed to delve into the world of her imagination and ignore reality for a good three hours or so with a mug of cinnamon coffee so big people would confuse it for a bowl. 

She took a deep breath of the silence and looked down the streets seeing the one or two off-season tourists that wandered through the town for hiking. Summer was about to end but kids were going back to school and this little town was nearly abandoned. Even most of the locals either lived off the land, or worked in larger cities just down the mountain. Somehow, without her mother’s voice in her ear, anxiety started to well up in her. Something else too. 

For the past year, any time she was alone, she got this feeling but any time she tried to pin it down it ran away. She was sick of trying to chase a ghost but she couldn’t quite bring herself to give up on it either. Something in her soul said this feeling was important and that she had to solve the puzzle. She was pretty sick of the urgent feeling in her stomach and right now was not the time. Anxiety she could handle, the other thing could wait. 

Rae walked into the door of the tiny, eclectic, coffee shop and looked around. She had found it the day before, relieved to find a place that wasn’t a chain. If anyone knew how anxious she always was they would have assumed she was the type to order everything on an app and use self checkout. Except there was a certain charm, in her opinion, about having the sort of social anonymity of having a place she was considered a quirky regular. A place where the barista knew her order and the check out guy knew how to bag her eggs just the way she liked. The sort of pseudo social bond that made it so someone would notice if you went missing but you were still a little bit of an enigma. It was part of why she'd picked such a small town. She wanted that place where everyone sort of knew each other.

Rae walked up to see the same woman from yesterday behind the counter wiping  it down and humming to herself. “Hey! Welcome back! So I guess the coffee wasn’t too bad then?” The woman greeted, warmly. She had a sort of spirit about her that Rae hadn’t found at the cafe near her parent’s house in the giant suburb where nothing really felt local, even the local shops. She loved Burbank, but she was thrilled to be rid of it.

“I loved it, actually. Had to come back and try another one.” Her tone was friendly and she was proud of herself for being able to sound confident even if she didn’t feel it with ehr stomach bubbling and twisting and her heart beating a bit too fast.

“You want the Honey Nut latte again then?” The woman asked, turning to the computer.

“Actually I was looking at the Cinnamon vanilla cappuccino.” She admitted. Rae had a huge soft spot for cinnamon. She loved the sweet and spicy mix. It felt sort of fantastical, like the sort of thing a fairy should drink.

“Oh! Good choice! It’s one of my favorites. Biggest cup I can find?” the barista asked, quoting yesterday. Rae was surprised but she supposed in a small town like this new people always stuck out. Not to mention she was the crazy red head with the coffee addiction that spent half her day writing in the back corner and muttering to herself while she wobbled the table. That probably helped make her memorable.

“Please and thank you!” She said brightly as she pulled out her card to pay. The Barista was quick to process the purchase and say they’d call her name when it was ready and Rae nodded turning to the room to get to work when she was stopped short. 

She looked at her table. Her table, she had quickly decided, was perfect.It had a slight wobble to fidget with when thinking and just enough light that she could see but not too much in the sun as to need to take off her sweater and she could angle her computer just so in order to not get glare. Yes, her perfect little table was another part of the charm and allure of this place. Except right now, her table had a man sitting at it. 

There were plenty of other tables, that wasn’t the problem. The thing was Rae was a creature of habit if nothing else. She liked normal and same and comfortable. She didn’t just want any table she wanted her table. 

She was the kind of person that was one mental breakdown away from having the same outfit in 12 colors just because it was comfortable. Finding a new table once she picked one took time, it took effort. Yes, she’d only had that table once but it was her table! Now her choices were go find a new one: torture! Or talk to the man and ask if he could move: torture!

“Iced Cinnamon honey Latte for Liam!” was called next to her and the man stood up. She quickly averted her eyes to look at the menu pretending she was busy. As soon as he was engaged with the Barista she quickly slipped to the table into the same seat she had been in the day before, thankfully not the one the man had been in, and opened her computer.

“I suppose I don’t mind a little company.” A voice drawled over her. It was deep, and sounded like it was amused, and absolutely terrifying. She looked up to see warm chestnut eyes and a beard and shaggy brown hair and sun tanned skin. He was taller than her but not by much. Other than looking a bit ragged he was just a normal, average guy. So why did she get the instantaneous need to flee? Oh yeah, because she stole his table.

“Oh umm Sorry?” She asked, she tried her best to sound innocent and confused. Maybe if she could play it off well enough he’d just give up and move. It was her favorite table after all. 

Mistakes were clearly made when he sat down in the same seat he had left. “My table.” The statement was simple and plain and was accompanied with a rather self satisfied looking smirk.

“No one was here when I sat down so–” Rae started powering up her laptop and pulling out notebooks hoping it would be enough to stake her claim and scare him off. That was until the man pointed to a black bag resting on the seat next to his. “Oh. I must have missed that. Sorry I can–” She started to get up with tense shoulders and probably too perfect posture.

“There’s plenty of space. I mean the table is meant for like seven people.” It was an exaggeration, but not by much. The big, round table had been useful because she had been able to spread out her notebooks and books and still had about half a table left for cups and plates. “Besides, looks like I won’t be here half as long as you will.” He mused.

He gave a slow look over her bag of books and papers and pens and highlighters, it always looked near to bursting at the seams. His look had her blushing from embarrassment. Then his eyes slowly moving over her face like he was drinking in her appearance. His look had her flicking her eyes shyly down to her keyboard and suddenly feeling very warm in her comfy knit sweater. 

“Thank you. It’s just that this is the perfect table. It’s the right distance from the window to get light but not be too warm or reflect on my screen and it’s got a little wobble that I can play with when I’m thinking.” She explained in a rush. Why was she telling him this? Why did she want to tell this guy everything she’d ever thought? 

She fought the urge to look back up to the chocolate eyes of the man in front of her. She did not do relationships. She had knocked aside every single person who had even looked her way for as long as she could remember. This guy wasn’t even her type! Sure he was handsome in his own way, and he had a great voice but she wanted something else. She just wasn’t really sure what that was.

“Good to know I have good taste.” He said with a tone that had her looking up in panic. It sounded so weighty. Was he complimenting her? That was very daring. “In tables.” He clarified like he could read her mind.

“Right.” She said, nodding and trying to remind herself to breathe. There was no way she was letting this guy get to her. She was just a nervous person. So why was this guy so disarming? Why was he terrifying in a totally different way from every other human she’d ever met? Why did she want to know more about him? “You do. So umm… do you–”

“Cinnamon Vanilla Cappuccino for Rae!” The barista called. Rae nearly tipped her chair over when she shot up like a bottle rocket.

“That’s me!” She called. The Barista, thankfully, just smiled warmly and motioned to her with the coffee. Right she had to go over and get it. “Be right back. Can you watch my stuff?” She asked the mystery man as she, much more carefully, picked her way around her bag and towards the counter. 

She felt so stupid. Genuinely, she felt like an idiot. She had just made a total fool of herself and her anxiety was flaring like crazy. Her heart was pounding a thousand miles a second and her palms were sweating and her stomach was even a little nauseous. She took the coffee and the Barista smiled kindly.

“He’s the last new guy, moved in about a year ago. Nice guy but I’ve never seen him talk to the same person that long.” The barista commented. What was that supposed to mean? Was she special?

“Oh. Yeah well I tried to steal his table so...” Rae trailed off awkwardly. Maybe she should just go home and never leave her house again. She took a sip of her coffee and comfort washed over her body. “Wow.” She breathed for the first time in what seemed like forever. “This is great!” she complimented savoring the sweet and spicy flavor that made her feel magical.

“Told you! It’s my favorite. Enjoy.” The Barista turned in a way that clearly dismissed her.

Ok, so she couldn’t leave until she finished her coffee now. She looked around the empty cafe, empty except for her table that had the guy at it. She tried to pick another place to work but every single one just had too many glaring issues. That one really was her perfect table. So she just had to deal with the guy. Besides, something in her told her that if she moved the guy would just follow. A traitorous part of her loved the idea too.

She moved back to her seat and nodded a greeting to the guy sitting there. “Thanks.” She said putting her coffee down and moving to sit. 

“That’ll be 20 dollars.” the guy said with an impish smile that made her stomach flip uncomfortably and had her flopping into the seat she had just been trying to sit gracefully in.

She was a scared wreck 99% of the time but the other 1% of her personality was all redhead. Instantly her face flared red and rage boiled in her blood. “Excuse me?!” She asked, her chin cocked down and teeth clenched almost as tight as her fists.

Instantly his hands raised in surrender but his face was entirely covered in a smug smile. “Joking.” He assured with a wave of his hands to draw attention to his surrender. “Good to know you’re a fighter though.” He commented, taking a self satisfied sip of his own drink.

A fighter? She was not a fighter! She was a runner and a hider or a freezer at best. His words soothed her somehow though. It was like he was seeing someone completely different than who she was but for some reason she really wanted to be that person. “I just couldn’t believe you thought your services were worth 20 bucks.” She countered. “Maybe Five…cents” Was she teasing him? She was pretty sure she was teasing him. Where had she learned to tease random men in coffee shops?

“Ouch.” He said covering his heart like he’d been wounded but his smile was impossible to miss. It lit his face with an impossibly enchanting glow. She couldn’t take her eyes off the way his eyes crinkled in the corners or the way his laugh lines framed his lips. She ripped her eyes forcefully to her coffee and took a long drink of the soothing cinnamon. She hoped the drink would bring some much needed reality to her boggled mind. “I’d be happy to show you just what my services are worth.” He offered and she caught sight of him wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

A laugh caught Rae by the throat and she nearly choked on her coffee as she snorted. Coffee assaulted the back of her throat and splashed all over her computer screen from her coughing. Oh God she looked like an idiot. “Sorry.” She choked out as she put down her cup and desperately tried to get her breathing and hacking under control.

She looked up to see an empty seat where he had been. He was gone. She tried to insist to herself that she wasn’t sad or upset or anything even remotely like it. She was glad that she had her table to herself. The problem was that inexplicable feeling was instantly back. It was like an itch inside of her ear so deep there was no way to scratch it. She hadn’t realized but for those brief moments talking to this strange man, it had been gone. Now that he was missing it was back. She didn’t know what to make of that. It was like her skin was crawling, looking for something. Her eyes darted around the shop, without her permission, to see where he went.

“Don’t go dying on me, now.” His voice pulled her instantly to look next to her. “I know I’m funny but even I’m not that funny.” He joked offering her a napkin. She tried not to feel relieved seeing his face there smiling like he was hilarious. She reached up taking the napkin and wiped her face as he sauntered back to his seat and dropped himself haphazardly into it. 

“It just took me by surprise.” She insisted, not sure what to do with herself. Why was she so relaxed with this guy around? Why had it felt so cold when she had thought he left? 

All this was a lot to think about and she was supposed to be writing. She winced as soon as she looked at her screen and saw it covered in drips of coffee. That was going to be gross to write through all day. She wiped the screen but it just wiped streaks of cream and sugar across the surface.

“Everything ok there, kid?” His voice called for her attention again. Somehow the nickname, which should have been demeaning, didn’t set her anger ablaze again. It seemed so casual, almost natural. Not that the man in front of her could possibly be too much older than she was. She was in her mid thirties and would probably pin him at around forty, maybe younger.

She sighed in frustration at the streaks on her screen needing to be careful of the LCD screen but there was no amount of wiping that would fix this mess. “Fine it just– my screen is a mess now. So it looks like I won’t get any writing done. My publisher will love that.” She sighed, closing her screen probably a touch harder than she should have.

“Publisher?” He asked with a tilted head. He didn’t really look surprised, which surprised her. She could say he looked vaguely curious, but even that was too strong a word for the expression he was portraying.

“Yeah I um,I guess you could say I’m a writer. Or at least I wrote a book and it got published so, write.” She said instantly, self conscious. This was the part that always felt awkward and wrong. Plus it got two reactions, half the people were so excited they instantly wanted to be her best friend and get a free copy, the other half were patronizing and passed the words off as her  bragging. “Now I’m supposed to write the follow up.” She explained awkwardly. “It’s supposed to be a series.” She was babbling again. “About fairies.” She finished. 

God why couldn’t she have written about something so much cooler? Why wasn’t she writing about dragons or werewolves or even bigfoot! Why was it fairies? He would think she was twelve. Why the hell did she care what he thought?

“Fairies are cool.” His voice was so casual she couldn’t stop herself from looking up with what she was sure was a stupid, hopeful face. 

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not talking like two inches tall with butterfly wings or anything. They’re more like elemental forces. They’re mostly warriors and guardians. It’s not as dumb as it sounds, I swear.” She tried desperately to defend her book and let out an awkward laugh. She was trying not to give into the overwhelming shame and embarrassment she currently felt. 

She never talked about her novels to anyone that wasn’t her mother or her publisher. Even her dad hadn’t actually heard much about her book. She’d given him a copy of the first round of printing but it was still sitting untouched next to his armchair in California. This stranger actually looked interested though. Not even complimentary, not amused and mocking. He was just passively curious.

“What’s it called? I’d love to read it.” He said, taking a slow sip of his iced drink. Why was he drinking an iced coffee? It may not be fall yet but the colder weather had already stolen into the mountains enough that she needed a sweater.

“I have a spare copy at home. Maybe I could bring it to you tomorrow?” She offered.

“I can’t be here tomorrow.” Why was she disappointed by that? She nodded, refusing to let her face fall but either she wasn’t as good at hiding her emotions as she wanted to be, or he was more perceptive than average. “I work on call in the ranger outpost up in the national park. I’m on three days off two. But I’ll be here Friday? Maybe I can pick it up then?” he offered. “Buy you lunch to pay you back for it?” He looked hopeful. That was a surprise. The look in his eyes made it seem like he was holding his breath as much as she was.

“Sounds good. I’ll be here.” She agreed with a shy smile. Had she just agreed to a date? Three days from now she had agreed to a date! Maybe it wasn’t a date. Maybe he was just being nice.

“It’s a date.” He commented with a smirk. Ok so definitely a date.

“Yeah!” She shouldn’t be this excited. She was never this excited. She hated dating. Ever since she got dumped at her ninth grade ball for the class siren by the local captain of the jousting team. ‘Real life terms Raziel!’ she chastised herself. She wrote too much. It was the ninth grade semi-formal and the head cheerleader and the captain of the football team, whom she’d had no business dating anyway.

Her mom always warned her about getting too stuck in her stories. They were always telling her if she wasn’t careful she’d never come out. 

“You want me to see what I can do with that screen?” The man’s voice shocked her out of her self-reflection.

“Huh?” Rae shook her head blinking away the voices fighting behind her eyes and flashes of wings and gossamer. 

The man nodded his head to her closed computer. “Your computer screen. I might be able to clean it off.” He offered. “Can’t let you get behind because of my attempted murder.” He joked.

She laughed even though it wasn’t a good joke and nodded. “Sure.” she said, opening the lid. “All yours.” He took a napkin and pulled a bottle of water out of his satchel pouring a bit onto the end and ran it lightly over the screen. 

Rae watched in awe as the streaks cleared up and dried like he’d used one of her screen clothes instead of a napkin and water. “My hero!” She said with a smile looking over to see his brown eyes right next to her. He was close enough to her she could smell woods and smoke and see little lines decorating his face and disappearing into the thick hair of his beard. It was an alluring image to be sure. Almost made her forget to breathe.

“Liam.” His voice was deep and so sexy and horribly distracting. Clearly she was quiet long enough that he felt the need to clarify. “That's my name. Liam.” That woke her up.

“Right! Sorry! Rae.” She introduced in a rush. 

“Short for…?” He prompted. 

“Something horrible.” She informed flatly.

“It can't be that bad.” He insisted with a smile.

“It really is.”

“What Rachel? Rainbow? Ray of sunshine? Raymond?”

“Raziel.” She burst out if only to stop his insane guesses. She stopped short, her eyes going huge when she realized she had just said her most hated name to a total stranger.

“Hm interesting.” Was all he said. “See ya Friday, Raziel.” He said her name quietly with an impish smile. It was like he was keeping her name a little secret between them. Somehow it didn't sound quite so horrid coming from him which really was a magical thing for him to manage.

“See you Friday, Liam.” She couldn't fight the smile. Her phone started to buzz and she looked down seeing her mom's contact and huffed. Her mother could not know about this. That was not happening. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to stop thinking about it but just the image of her mother learning about the coffee shop forest ranger felt like a threat. A threat she didn’t have time to unpack right now. Those chocolate eyes and the feelings behind them would be unfolded at a later date. For now she had other beasts to battle.

“Hi mom!”

[xenolithium]

Surprise Visits (France & America)

I remember when he was just a little boy. He had large blue eyes and that bright, innocent smile he'd always wear upon his lips whenever I'd come see him. Those moments were fleeting and the time I spent with that boy was short.

"Alfred, papa made you something to eat!"

Whenever I saw him, I remember being so happy. Even if it was a struggle just to see his face again the next time around. It was something I'd look forward to. Kissing his forehead, cuddling next to him in bed, feeding him the food I made so lovingly.

It was strange. Up until that point I'd never felt such a strong urge to protect something. To become the pillar that would hold him up in his darkest moments. But I accepted the feeling wholeheartedly and without question. This little boy was my little boy.

The American Revolution was when I truly got to know him. Arthur may have stolen away his childhood, but I had his teen years. The moments when he was the most vulnerable. The moments when he'd break down in tears, unsure of what to do. But it was okay, I was there. I'd always be there.

"I love you, mon petit chou."

---

Francis sighed as he pushed his luggage next to the front door and out of the way, pocketing his spare key. He then took off his shoes before taking a few steps into his son's home, leaving the entrance behind him. The place was quiet, eerily quiet considering who this was he was visiting. The only sounds he could hear was the soft pitter-patter of paws as Alfred's cat came to greet him. Her white fluffy tail standing up at attention as she meowed at him as if saying hello or perhaps asking him to leave. She did have a bit of an attitude problem afterall, as most cats do.

Francis kneeled down to give her a stroke, "I'm happy to see you too~" he greeted, letting her bunt against the back of his hand. A small smile played at his lips while she inspected him in mild interest and eventually took her leave. Back to her outpost atop the fridge to stare at him behind beady blue eyes.

Francis gazed upon her 'elegance' for a moment, before slowly rising to his feet again and continuing his journey through the house. First things first, he'd check to see if Alfred was even home. But judging by the fact Marshmallow was left unattended and not in someone's care, he was sure that the American hadn't gone too far.

"Alfred, papa came by to visit you~" was the only warning he gave as he so brazenly entered his son's room. It's not like he'd care if he saw anything he shouldn't. Francis wasn't exactly one who held high regard towards concepts such as shame. Plus, if anything was happening, he'd just walk back out and talk through the door instead. Simple as that~ (He had a feeling Arthur wouldn't be too keen on that logic.)

Francis blinked when he noticed Alfred laying in bed. Despite it being the middle of the day, there he was, hugging an oversized stuffed bear like he was a small child again. It made the Frenchman's heart light up as he stepped towards the bed to sit down next to his very much full grown son and run a hand through his messy hair. He frowned at the texture; greasy, split ends, dandruff. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, this just wouldn't do. It was a good thing he decided to come over.

"Alfred, did you work late last night?" He asked, his voice soft, as the American slowly blinked himself into consciousness. Staring out through windows surrounding his bed for a moment, towards the swaying palm trees and the rolling shores. Before finally turning his head to look up at Francis.

"Papa?"

"Yeah, it's me," Francis chuckled, letting his thumb briefly rub against Alfred's cheek in a comforting gesture.

"Did you bring me any food?" Alfred asked groggily and Francis rolled his eyes.

"No, I was going to ask you what you wanted though."

"Crepes~" he cheered as he sat up, suddenly a lot more energetic than he was before. "With lots of whip cream and strawberries~"

"Wait, are we having a meal here or desert?" Francis asked, his eyebrows bunched together in concern.

"Chocolate sauce?"

"That doesn't make it any healthier." Francis sighed, shaking his head as Alfred laughed. "How about I choose then?"

"What? You can't just walk in here, ask what I want and not let me choose. I will drink the chocolate sauce just to spite you."

"Alfred please...let's not drink the chocolate sauce. That is disgusting."

"To you maybe."

"No, it's disgusting and you know it!" Francis huffed, surprised when Alfred simply stared at him for a moment in silence. Seemingly letting him win the argument for a short period of time.

"Can I at least have the strawberries and whipped cream?" He begged, making those puppy dog eyes that always made Francis weak to his every will and whim.

"Fine you can have the strawberries."

"and whipped cream?"

"Strawberries."

Alfred squinted at him for a long moment, that angelic expression from earlier falling off his face completely as he realized what Francis was doing here. Opening his mouth to refute it again when Francis swiftly changed the subject.

"Alfred, when's the last time you took a shower?"

Alfred closed his mouth again, looking slightly surprised at such a sudden topic change. But also slightly embarrassed that he was caught not taking care of himself properly to Francis of all people. The one who would gripe the most about it.

"Yesterday."

Francis took hold of one of the strands of his hair, whilst Alfred tried to weakly swat him away. "This does not look like yesterday. There's so much grease, I could fry an egg with it," he pointed out, finally pulling his hand back and crossing his arms over his chest. "On top of that, you haven't been using the shampoo I recommended, have you?" Alfred's guilty look said it all. "You wouldn't have so much dandruff and split ends if you used the shampoo I told you to use. And what's this, acne? I thought I gave you a step by step guide on my skin care routine and -"

"Okay, okay! I got it!" Alfred cut off his father, who was currently going into a nagging tangent about how he should be taking care of himself. This time it was Francis' turn to squint suspiciously at Al. "I'll take a shower right now to prove it."

"Good." Francis finally began to smile again, leaning forward to kiss Alfred's forehead. "I'll be in the kitchen." He slowly rose from the bed to walk towards the bedroom door. Only pausing to turn back and close the door behind him, noticing Al curling up under the covers with his phone in hand, rather than getting up like he said he would. He raised a brow, "Alfred..." He called in warning.

"One sec, I gotta wake my legs up first."

"Now, Alfred." The American let out a huff and rolled to the floor, covers and all. Only to slowly crawl his way to his bathroom with a groan of protest. "And you tell me I'm over dramatic." Francis shook his head as he finally closed the door with a click, walking back down the hallway to get them both something to eat.

---

"Do you feel better?" Francis asked as Alfred leaned back, stretching his arms up over his head after finishing his fifth plate of food. He definitely looked relaxed and at ease, but most of all, clean.

"Yeah, your food is the best~" he complimented, grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks papa!"

Francis leaned against his hand, brushing a few loose strands from his own face. "You need to take better care of yourself. What would you do if I didn't check on you all the time? But there's no need to think of that since I'm here~"

Alfred pouted, "now you're just being full of yourself. Besides, I wouldn't want to make your job pointless if I'm doing everything myself."

"How noble of you," Francis laughed, but the sound was genuine and heartfelt. He glanced towards Marshmallow who was gazing at them from the other side of the table. "Have you been overworking yourself again?"

"Nah, just was having a bit of a hard time." Francis turned his gaze back towards Alfred as he fiddled with his empty glass nervously.

"You know you can talk to me about it, mon petit chou."

"I know, it's just embarassing."

Francis stared at Alfred for a long moment trying to think of what it was that he was keeping from him. Something he had mentioned before perhaps? "Oh, is it..." He trailed off as Alfred seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable. "Oh, Alfred." He reached across the table to place his hands on his son's cheeks. "You're perfect in every way and there's absolutely nothing you need to change." He watched as Alfred began to tear up. "It's fine, you don't have to say anything. I'm here."

Alfred nodded. "Thanks..." He swallowed thickly. "Thanks for coming."

[aliensandartifacts]

“Head’s up, teach!” Mel barely had time to turn before an amethyst geode came her way, lobbed gently from Cade’s hands. She caught it easily and placed it on the shelf where she wanted to use it as a bookend for the few volumes she had on stone identification. “You know, saying that ***before*** you throw things at me might be a better idea, Cade.” Mel turned and looked over her shoulder and gave him *the look* that he knew well. It got her a laugh and a cheeky wink. “Unless you are wanting to get in another wrestling match with Gabe. I know you two boys just love trying to knock one another out.”

“I’m up for a rematch. What about you?” Gabe turned and gave Cade a shit eating grin before putting more books on the shelf as they got Mel’s office ready for the new semester that she’d be teaching. He had to admit, none of his professors had ever had an office like this. Then again, none of his professors in college had ever looked like Mel.

“I’m not the one that ended up with the cracked rib. What do I care?” Cade winked at Mel who was now getting something out of the box next to him as he moved a new one up to her desk since she’d emptied the last one he’d put there for her. He wouldn’t add that he’d had to fight limping for almost a week due to his knee. Getting yelled at once had been enough.

“I don’t care but if you have more cracked ribs,” first she rolled her eyes at Gabe then shot a pointed look at Cade, “or injured knees,” she gave him a sarcastic smile to let him know that he fooled no one and loved the look he got on his face from it. “I will let my brothers heal you and I can tell you that if they do it while you’re awake and VERY slowly, it’s not fun. Besides, I think I’m due for another training session with both of you.” She heard dueling groans from behind her, and grinned as she put artifacts from past digs up on shelves where she wanted them. “I thought I heard that you were the fun professor? Can you be the fun boss too? Let Beau be the crabby and mean one?” Gabe teased and gave her a boyish grin when she turned around feigning insult. “Or are you hoping we’ll bribe you with exotic chocolate and coffee? That’s what it is, isn’t it? You want us to worship you as a princess.” He palmed two round artifacts of some kind and walked over towards where she had gotten up on a step stool and had her hands out for them. “Your rocks, my liege…” He bowed and extended his arms up over his head towards her. “Oh dear lawd, you two are going to drive me to day drink.” Mel laughed as she took the two fossils and put them up on a high shelf. They were real and she didn’t want to chance them getting knocked off. Some of what she had in her office were reproductions, the originals being of cultural significance to the location that they were found in. There were a few that the local governments had allowed her to keep for various reasons and she always honored and protected those. When it came to things in her office, it was all above board and legal. She would never chance her new position back at LSU, or compromise the reputation of the school. It was the items that held magical and mystical powers where she broke local, state, and international laws like glow sticks at a rave. Those items were the ones that would never see LSU, or even Louisiana most likely. They were the ones that she and her team handled covertly.

“Day drinking is part of the culture, belle.” Cade winked at her as he crossed over to where she was with more items for her to place on shelves. “What kind of Cajun boy would I be if I didn’t drive you to do it? Mint juleps in the afternoon after mimosas for breakfast. Cherie, I must uphold my reputation as a good Creole.” He gave her a roguish grin and handed her a couple things that looked like they’d break if he tossed them to her. “Let’s get this stuff done so we can go do a boil out at your house tonight before we have to beat the mosquitoes off with tennis rackets.” The trio laughed and worked together to empty the rest of the boxes that they’d brought up to her office. Things had changed for Mel and her bodyguards since moving up to Baton Rouge from the family estate in Darrow where she had been staying since returning to Louisiana. On the weekends, they were still going back to Darrow or New Orleans, where Alexander and Beau were living in the house in the Garden District. The “new normal” for Mel was anything but what most people would call *normal*; however there was a comfort to it that she would be hard pressed to explain to those who were not living it with her. The two men in the room seemed not to have any problems with their routine.

She was currently running La Hérisson with Beau, hunting mystical and magical artifacts with Beau and Alexander, and preparing to return full time to teaching at LSU. Saying her life was full would be an understatement. Mel rarely had a spare moment, something she was grateful for most days. Too much free time gave her time to analyze things, and that activity normally brought with it memories. During those times when she didn’t have something planned, she headed to the beaches of Long Beach, MS and the home and boat that she owned there as well. Rarely was she still if she could avoid it, dragging at least both of her bodyguards along with her. Through it all, Cade and Gabe were there to make sure that there was not a repeat of the event that led to her being in the grips of Ambrose and Adama. Both of the men who had previously held her captive still had associates who would want to exploit her LaVeau blood now that it was no longer a secret.

When it came to the three of them, they had become a team. When school started, Gabe and Cade would take turns with who would be on campus while Mel was. To keep the school from being too nervous, they would keep to the shadows and do a lot of electronic surveillance, while not being so far from her that they would be unable to be there in seconds. It wasn’t the roomiest, but there was a storage closet down the hall from her office where she had been able to convince Dwayne to allow her to setup a small desk for one bodyguard to be able to keep watch. With the story of the kidnapping and now Ambrose and Dominic missing, he had agreed immediately to let her do it. She was at least thankful for that.

Soon it would be time to walk back into the classroom, and that actually made her less nervous than anything that she had done so far since returning *home*. When she was in front of students it was like she was an actor on stage. She put on her *teacher face* and it was an act. When in her office and not working on grading assignments, she was preparing for her lectures and classes, so by the time she walked in front of students, it was all memorized and rote. Sometimes she was giving the same lecture multiple times in a day or week. It didn’t hurt that she loved what she was talking about, so even tangents were easy for her to handle. Cade or Gabe would be sitting in the back of the lecture halls and classrooms, dressed casually and blending into the background as best as they could. They would obviously be older than the students, but all were used to returning students or other professors auditing a class. They would mostly go unnoticed. Females would definitely notice them.

Everything found a place on the shelves, the few side tables, or Mel’s desk. Some might find her office cluttered, but the eclectic mix of artifacts, geodes, fossils, and fandom pieces made her office feel perfect to her. It was filled with pieces there were uniquely and distinctly *Mel*. Standing by the door, she linked arms with her two bodyguards who were so much more, they were truly friends and meant the world to her. Through everything on Grand Bahama and back in Louisiana, they had helped her keep her sanity and more. When the semester started, they would once more help her move forward with her life at LSU while her family and other friends were keeping the other parts of her life moving forward as well. She was back and defining life on her terms. It was not the life that she had before the Memorial Day ball the year before, but it was one that she was ready to face head on. This was her life and she was going to live it with no apologies and no fears. Time to reclaim it all.

@talamasca74

@voodoobodyguards

[maybe-your-left]

GETTING CAUGHT HAVING SEX BY PARENTS WITH EITHER SACKLER OR ALTMAN!💖🥰

MY ANGEL, I LOVE YOU😘😘😘😘

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE KITTEN. 

PHILLIP ALTMAN

“I can’t believe we have to sleep in the basement...” 

You patted Phillip's shoulder, handing him a pile of blankets with a small smile, “It's okay, your sister needed to use your bedroom and we’ll be okay down here.” 

“But,” Phillip tossed the blankets down before wrapping you in his arms. Softly swaying you as you both stood, “I really wanted to make you squirt in my teenage bedroom.” 

“Phil!” you swatted him, trying to push away. 

“I know, I’m ashamed... but you look so pretty when you do.” 

You cocked a brow, eyes darting towards the fold-out bed and then up to Phillip's face. His eyebrows shot up, mouth making an ‘o’, “You dirty minx, you want me to make you squirt here? In my family basement? Next to the laundry?” 

“I guess we would have easier cleanup.” 

Phillip threw you to the bed, already yanking your leggings down to your ankles before pinning your legs to your chest. Your pussy lifted in the air, right under his chin as he rubbed his beard into your clit. Scratching the sensitive nub, making it twitch in pleasure. You let out a soft yip, hugging your ankles tighter with anticipation. Phillips tongue darted out, licking from your cunt to clit, flicking it over and over as it stiffened more and more. “Philly,” whimpered, bottom lip trembling as he lapped at you over and over. 

“What is it? Does my minx want something?” 

You nodded, spreading your legs enough for your face to pop out for him. Clenching in his face for you to notice how eager for him to shove anything into you. Phillip nodded in understanding, “Keep your legs up,” he demanded. Pulling off the bed to abandon his shoes before losing his belt. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up before smacking the outside of both your thighs. Watching the supple flesh jiggle before he gripped them tightly and rocked your body towards him. A hand flew to his zipper, yanking it down to pull out his hard cock. Phillip placed a forearm across the back of your thighs, pulling one of your hands to wrap around his girth. 

“Play with me, play with your favorite toy minx.” 

Your hand squeezed his base, his knees moving his body closer to your hand as he spat on your pussy. Without warning Phillip shoved two fingers until you, hooking them to immediately attack your special bundle of nerves on your front wall. Pulling a wail from your throat in response, your hand stroking him harshly. Your walls began clenching over and over as he fingered you, faster than he ever had. You took in the sight of him, focusing so hard on making you cum. His bicep bulging out of his shirt, his forearm clenched on your legs. The vein on the side of his neck straining against his skin, his soft mouth was popped open in awe as your pussy opened for him. Allowing him to worm in a third finger, “You’re so good for me, you’d do anything to make me happy wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes! Phil!” you slipped your fist on his tip over and over. Squeezing over and over as you passed the ridge, gathering his precum and gliding it along his length. Phillip groaned at you, eyes momentarily closing in bliss as his fingers let up. You whined at the loss, bucking as much as you could in your current position. 

“You know what would make me so fucking happy?” 

You shook your head. 

“If you squirted,” he fucked into you fast and hard, your slick gushing out of you as he moaned. “Want you to soak my sleeve, can you do that for me? I can feel how bad you want to.” 

“Ah! Please, just a little more!” 

Phillip nodded at you, moving his free hand to press into your folded lower abdomen. Applying just enough pressure for you to crack, convulsing in his grip as you wailed. Pussy squirting over and over along him, just as he asked for, your cum running down his forearm as he looked at you in awe. 

“Again baby.” 

You cried, body aching but you couldn’t stop yourself. His fingers wouldn’t stop fucking into you to stop you from cumming again. You brought a hand up to gather some of your spend, clicking it along his length as you tried to give him a hand job while he made you fountain for him. Phillip groaned, wrapping his lips around your clit in appreciation. Moaning as he tasted your cum, easing one finger out of you, softly petting your walls with his middle and forefinger. 

You were drunk on him, eyes lazily opening as you stared at the stairs to your left. Breath catching in your throat when you saw Phillip’s mom momentarily stalled in the middle of the stairs. 

“I heard commotion, but I see you both are just fine...” 

“Mommy!” Phillip cried, his palm trying to cover your sex from his therapist mom’s eyes, “Announce yourself next time!” 

She pranced back up the stairs, yelling over her shoulder before the door shut. 

“Like you could hear me over her screams!” 

ADAM SACKLER

“Hey,” you snapped in Adam’s face, “You need to be good today. This is your first impression, and they weren’t thrilled when you made sex noises the other day while I was on the phone.” 

“Your sister laughed. I heard her.” 

You rolled your eyes as you straightened the collar on his shirt. He looked ridiculous, you had dressed him in some nice pants and a button-up, something he didn’t even own until 24 hours ago. He was much too big for normal shirt sizes at the store, his biceps looked like they were going to explode out at any moment. And the pants left little to the imagination, thank god you found dark slacks so his bulge wasn’t noticeable to the naked eye. But your parents were taking you and Adam to a nice restaurant before going back to the house for dessert. He scratched at his neck after you finished, whining when you swatted his hands away. “Fuck, I can’t breathe,” Adam cried, “I look like I mugged a bellboy and stole his clothes.” 

“You look very responsible baby,” you kissed his cheek before walking to the front door, grabbing your clutch and opening the front door. “Let's go, before you rip that shirt.”

Your parents were civil at dinner, asking Adam questions about his theater work and woodworking. About hobbies and interests outside of his main focus, where he was from, other nosey questions that he handled like a champ. If it weren’t for the flashcard training you made him go through the past week he probably would’ve gone on a personal tangent about his personal opinions on the salad your dad chose to eat but he knew you wanted him to make a good impression. You were so proud of him, holding his hand under the table and squeezing it when he made a smart joke, or made your mom blush when he gave her a slightly offhand compliment. By the end of it, you could tell he was drained from being personable, his trademark smile was fading as it dragged on. Finally your parents paid the bill and asked you both to follow them home. 

Adam let out a big groan when he got into the car, throwing his face towards you as he sighed, “Kid, that was exhausting. This shirt is so uncomfortable and I couldn’t touch you under the table the entire time because your dad was watching me like a hawk.” 

“You did so well,” you grabbed his cheeks and gave him a big kiss. Lingering long enough for him to relax into you, humming as your lips worked over one another. Softly tasting each other, Adam’s tongue briefly licked into your mouth, forcing your jaw to open enough to take him. A warm palm slid to your bare thigh, peaking through the slit in your dress. A deep groan sounded into your mouths as he whispered on your lips, “And you looked so good, it took everything in me to devour you. So soft, all for me.” 

You smiled, nudging his hand away, “Come on, they are going to be mad if we're late.” 

Dessert was quick, all of you flooding into the den where your parents told stories about their college years and courtship. You could tell Adam was checked out, focusing on you more than anything else. After a few glasses of wine, you were feeling flush, turning your attention to your handsome man. Watching you with total admiration and devotion, you wanted to eat him up. And you found that you couldn’t wait to get home. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told the room, slowly sauntering away. Letting your hips sway just a little too much, but you knew your parents didn’t notice. They were too into whatever they were talking about to see you and Adam eye-fucking each other. As you turned the corner, you heard Adam excuse himself to the kitchen to get some water, your parents paying him no mind either. The two of your locked eyes, Adam’s completely black as they raked up and down your figure. You gave him a big smile before running up the stairs, Adam's footsteps following close behind. 

The door to your childhood bedroom was soon shut as softly as possible before Adam had you pinned to the mattress. Facedown as you giggled at him, hands fisting the sheets as you heard him fall to his knees behind you, his large hands pushing your skirt above your hips. 

“You’re such a dirty slut,” Adam groaned, pulling your panties to the side before he shoved his mouth to your folds. Licking deep through them, tasting every inch of your flesh. His thumbs hooked into you, prying you apart so he could look in awe, “Fucking best cunt ever, been teasing me with it all night. Not letting me fuck it before we left.” 

You moaned when he dove in again, strong tongue fucking in and out of your entrance. Slurping up your slick that poured into his mouth, filling the room with the sound of your excited sex. You rocked your hips back into him, mouthing at the sheets as he groaned into you, “Coulda filled you with my cum, made you sit in it all night.” 

“Sackler...” 

“You want like that? Having to sit across from your dad full of my cum? He’d be so disappointed in what a filthy slut you are.” 

Adm smacked your thigh, a little too loud, before standing up. He ran his hands across your ass, gripping and bouncing your cheeks as he ground his slacks into you. “M gonna fuck you, right here. Make them hear you and all the pretty noises you make for me.” 

“Please,” your voice broke as you looked back at him. Your mascara slightly clumping from the tears that were building from the teasing. “Give me your cum, wanna feel it deep inside me. Please Sackler.” 

His zipper was pulled down, yanking his slacks down mid-thigh while he fished his cock out. Lewdly smacking it on your cheeks to leave a smear of precum, slipping it between your legs as fucking your clit a few times. “You gonna show me? How deep I can bury my cum inside your little cunt?” 

You clenched in anticipation, his head at your entrance as you nodded, “I’ll show you, baby, want your cum.” 

Adam growled as he pushed in, seating himself to the hilt. Cock head rubbing your cervix before he pulled back, beginning to thrust wildly into you without abandon. Both of you creating a symphony of moans, bare skin slapping against one another as you gushed around him. Adam laughed as he fucked you, “Fuckin’ tight cunt, always so wet for me. You like me fucking you here, letting your family know what a slut-.” 

The door creaked open, both of you freezing, Adam’s cock buried inside you as your mom’s head popped in. 

“Hey, sweetie, letting you know we’re headed to b-Oh my god!” 

“Mom!” 

She squealed again, eyes darting back and forth between Adams sweaty smile and your fucked out face. She slapped a palm over her eyes, backing out of the room, “I’m sorry! I should’ve knocked-oh my- we’re going to bed!” 

You heard her footsteps scurry away, leaving the door slightly ajar in her haste. Adam laughed, thrusting into you harshly as he smacked your ass, “They are never going to forgive me for this.” 

You giggled at him, bouncing back, desperate to finish. Adam groaned as you clenched around him, canting his hips harder into you. Pounding your cervix with each thrust, he bent over your body. Chest flush with your back as he licked your ear, “Too bad it wasn’t your dad.” 

[oceanselevenism]

If you're still doing them maybe number 12 with both the ocean's siblings and their partners?

hell yeah!! i’ve put it under the cut :)) it is Very Tangentially holiday-sweater-related but it is too long to not post now! hope you enjoy, and happy holidays :))

It’s the first Christmas they’ve spent together in... nearly a decade and a half, actually. The years had flown by, blurring into a mess of run-ins and arguments and you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, but hey, Danny can’t fault his sister for wanting to make up for lost time. No, he can’t fault her (after all, if she had been the one to fake her death, he’d probably have moved into her house for a week, just to make sure she didn’t do it again) but he can make fun of her, so that’s what he does. “Aw, you really did miss me,” he says when she gives him and Rusty perfunctory hugs on her way into his house (Lou just claps them both on the shoulder, and he’s not sure whether to feel snubbed or relieved). “I can’t believe my dear sister actually cares,” he tells her when she brings him a mug of cocoa, ingredients nabbed from some billionaire in Germany. “Pure family bonding for the whole family,” he remarks when she goes off on a drunken, expletive-filled tangent about the Met Gala’s security over a game of poker (they’ve given up on trying to enforce the no-cheating rule, and he’s pretty sure Lou takes the opportunity to peek at Debbie’s cards). But in all honesty, he can’t keep up the ribbing; it really is good to see her, even if she definitely gets along better with Rusty (she’s told him as much, and right to his face, too) and the third day ends in a bitter, wine-fueled not-argument about their mother and their father and they themselves. But on the fourth morning Danny gets up early (it’s five in the goddamn morning, why the fuck has Lou already left a note on the counter saying gone on a run) to make latkes, and when Debbie comes downstairs she scoops out a dollop of his favorite sour cream instead of her usual applesauce, so unless her latke preferences have done a complete 180 since the last time he’s seen her, they’ve forgiven each other.

She and Lou volunteer to go on a grocery run that evening, and Danny’s glad; he hasn’t had the chance to jump Rusty’s bones in, like, five days (turns out cleaning up for houseguests takes up way more time than anticipated) (hey, the only people they’ve had over in years have been the crew from the Benedict job, and he’s heard Reuben threaten to shit on Turk’s feet, they don’t need to clean up for them). And for a minute, as Rusty pins him up next to the to-be-composted bag that is currently overflowing with potato scraps, the only thought in his head is the usual why didn’t we do this sooner. But then Rusty pulls back-- “Rus,” Danny complains-- and he tilts his head in that We Need To Talk manner. Which would be hot, if not for the fact that Rusty probably wants to talk about Debbie.

“You’re good, right?”

“We were never on bad terms.”

“Liar.”

“Well, hostile terms, maybe,” Danny amends. “But never bad.”

Rusty shifts, adjusting his forearms so it’s more like they’re just two good pals having a conversation three inches from each others’ faces instead of two good pals about to do very unsanitary things in a kitchen, and says, “I think you’re putting too much water under the bridge.”

“What am I, a Dutch engineer?”

“You’re very funny.”

“I know I am. Now, are we gonna--”

The door opens. Danny swears. “We were gone for twenty minutes,” Debbie says. “Are you that desperate?” Danny regrets going for the open-concept first floor, and he regrets it even more as Rusty pushes himself off with an air of utmost nonchalance.

“Here,” Lou says, lobbing a ball of fabric at Rusty. Her aim is remarkable, and Danny almost asks if she ever played softball before deciding he likes his well-being more than teasing his sister’s motorcycle-riding, brass-knuckle-owning girlfriend. It’s fine; next to him, Rusty huffs an amused laugh at the unsaid comment anyway. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

Rusty unfolds the fabric to reveal a truly hideous (and possibly offensive) Christmas sweater. It’s got red sleeves, a green torso, and a large, colorful fruitcake emblazoned on the stomach. Above it, in red and yellow, is text that reads FRUIT CAKE. “I love it,” Rusty says, pressing his lips together in that way that says he’s trying his damndest not to laugh. “It’s perfect.”

Lou opens her coat to reveal her own sweater, hers saying Ho Ho Homo. “I thought the theme was appropriate.”

“And for you, dearest brother,” Debbie says, pulling an atrociously-colored wad of wool out of a paper bag and chucking it at him, “you get the best of both worlds.”

With a mounting sense of horror, he recalls the year that he insisted on putting teal and orange streamers across the house, because it’s Hanukkah and Christmas mixed! That was the last year their parents had lived in the same house; Danny used to joke that it had been the final nail in the coffin for their mother. He pinches an edge of the cloth between two fingers and lets the rest fall open. It’s a Miami Dolphins holiday sweater. A teal-and-orange, festively-patterned Miami Dolphins sweater. Oh, his Boston-bred father would be frothing at the mouth. “We’re in Canada,” Danny says, equal parts shocked and awed. “How the hell did you get this here so quick? We were supposed to be meeting in Quebec until three days ago--”

“Danny, please learn what priority shipping is,” Debbie says. “Now c’mon. Wear it.”

There’s no way he can back out of this. If he refuses, she’ll just play the I thought you were dead card. He’s never regretted a decision more.

He puts on the sweater. Rusty-- his partner, his right hand, the love of his life-- wolf-whistles.

“I’m divorcing you,” Danny announces.

“Don’t worry,” Lou says with a grin, and is that her phone oh fuck she’s got a picture-- “Debbie, take off your coat.”

With the air of someone who has suffered the weight of the world, Debbie shrugs off her jacket. She’s wearing a matching sweater, and the dolphin on this one has a lovingly-embroidered smiling mouth stitched into it. Danny tries very, very hard not to laugh. “Shut it,” Debbie warns him.

“Oh, I’m not saying a thing,” Danny replies.

“We actually did get groceries,” Lou says, turning back to the door, “so--”

“Lemme give you a hand,” Rusty says. “Let these two bask in the joy of their new sweaters.”

“Fuck off,” Danny and Debbie say in unison. Rusty grins, cheery as ever, and leaves Danny’s side to follow Lou out the door.

“Great gift,” Danny says. “I’ll be laughed at by Reuben for the rest of my days.”

Debbie snorts, walking into the kitchen and rooting around in his cabinets. “Well, actually he’d-- wait, please tell me you didn’t, like, have gross old people se--”

“Shut up, Deborah,” Danny replies, feeling his neck heat up. “I’m only two years older than you. And no.” He refrains from adding on a “not this time.”

“Thank God,” Debbie says, pulling a glass out of the cupboard. “Anyway. Reuben’s not gonna laugh at you, he’s just gonna talk about your embarrassing baby stories in whatever groupchat you people have.”

Danny wonders how his baby sister got to be cooler than him. It’s very distressing. “That’s worse.”

“Yep,” she says, putting the pitcher down and picking her now-full glass up. She leans on the wall across from him, sipping her water, and narrows her eyes at him. “Are we, y’know... good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Danny says. Besides the thirty years of vaguely pretending the other didn’t exist.

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Debbie says. “But... I’d just like to make sure. ‘Cause you’re the only not-completely-insufferable blood relation I have.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment; Danny picks at a loose teal thread, trying to think of how best to phrase the thoughts rattling around in his head. “I don’t hate you,” he finally says. “And I don’t dislike you, either. You’re a pretty good sister. And a great thief.”

“I know,” she replies. “I’m not gonna say it back, ‘cause then you’re gonna get an inflated ego.”

“Works for me,” Danny says, grinning a little.

“I guess it’s just... I mean, I let all the old resentment get in the way of, y’know. Having a decent relationship, personally or professionally.”

Danny nods. He’s still got the scar from the time they both went after the Ruby of the Isle; he’d won, but just barely, and only because he had Rusty and she hadn’t found Lou. But at the end of the day, neither of them have tried to kill the other, and they still did grow up together, playing in Atlantic City casinos and building sand castles under the boardwalk. “I think we’re too old for that now.”

“You’re the old one here,” Debbie replies, no bite in the remark.

“Only two years,” he reminds her. “But I did the same thing as you, letting petty grudges get in the way of family, and for that I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.”

“Thanks, Debs.” He frowns. “They’re taking a really long time to get the groceries, aren’t they?”

As if summoned, the door opens, and Rusty and Lou, each with a measly two bags in their hands, walk in. And Rusty has his phone in his hands. “Rus, I swear--”

“Too late,” Rusty grins, as the shutter sound rings out through the living room. “That outfit has already been immortalized.”

“Have I already said I’m divorcing you? I’m divorcing you.”

“Does it count as fratricide if he’s your brother-in-law?” Debbie asks.

“Disproportionate reactions,” Rusty accuses. “Besides, I’ve already sent it to Linus.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “Not Linus.”

“You heard me.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from Linus Caldwell himself, consisting of a single thumbs-up emoji and two grinning cats. “You’re all terrible people. Terrible, terrible people.”

(the sweater rusty is wearing is real) (as is lou’s) (and the ocean siblings’)

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

*sings* the family REUNION

A/N: A nice Klaus x Topazi. I’m projecting, and this is also comfort for me right now xx. I’m sick of this country, I want to get the fuck out, but I can’t, so this is what’s happened. I’ve thought about writing this one before, but I think what we all need right now is some tenderness and warmth, so what better way to do it than through fanfiction. This is the first time I’ve written for an OC, and I like it so far. This was initially for a black reader, then I thought, literally today “oh topazi” so here we are.

Warnings: food (and lots of it), mild drink, knowing myself small mentions of racism, mention of sex

Cheeky Tag List: @misskittysmagicportal, @super-unpredictable98, @badsext, @sean-falco, @the-freckled-luba, @iamsexytrash, @crabstick, @robertsheehanownsmyass, @frogs--are--bitches, @seancekitsch

“KLAUS, COME ON, I CAN’T BE LATE” Topazi yelled through the house, checking herself in the mirror one last time before springing to where Klaus was.

 He was sitting on the kitchen island, nibbling on some chips. His feet tapped against the counter every other second.

“I told you, don’t eat yet, you won’t want to eat before we get there and that’s forbidden fruit sir.” she sternly stated, fauxly crossing her arms at him.

“Fine, by the way, your pasta salad is amazing.” he said, making a small chef’s kiss motion with his hands.

  Topazi facepalmed as Klaus kissed her cheek, and he walked to the door and put his sandles on. Jesus sandles, actually. To spent hours making two tins of pasta salad, and he ate almost a full corner of it. He must’ve eaten some of it while she was in the bathroom, or when she was lightly scolding the cats for disturbing the resident mice. She rolled her eyes and packed into the car, but not before saying goodbye to the houseplants.

“How long is the drive supposed to be?” Klaus asked, long limbs extending in the car.

“Just about an hour. It won’t be long, trust me. You’ll wish the drive was even shorter when you get there too.” she said, smiling and Klaus grinned back at her, and he kissed her once more before shuffling over more to his side of the car.

  About 45 minutes of time passed, and during that time, Klaus had opened a plethora of tangents, including pegging, ketchup being a smoothie (to him), why he doesn’t personally trust roaches(they just look weird, and they live forever), as well as why it took so long for him to cut that god-awful beard. All the while T was swerving in lanes, and glancing every now and then at the clock in the car. Klaus sat guzzling water while talking, and she knew the question was going to come up at some point, so she slapped her big girl panties on and took it.

“Are we there yet?” Klaus asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His stomach was poking out, but just barely, and Topazi sighed heavily.

“Klaus, come on. We’ve got a little less than 20 minutes left, it’s not my fault you drank all that water.”  she said, half stern, half jokingly.

“But I have to gooo. Can’t you pull over or something?” he whines, puppy dog eyes showing.

‘We’re on a highway, Klaus.” she muttered, gritting her teeth before pulling into a lane. That caused him to cross his legs, and close his eyes, groaning.

“Please, I really have to go. I’ll try to repay the favor when I can, I promise.” he begs, hands covering his crotch. T thought about it for a moment, and she’d been meaning to have Klaus eat her out again, so why not. She reached in the back and pulled out an empty bottle, and he picked it from her hands.

“I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.” he says, turning away from her and she gagged lightly, but at least he didn’t wet his pants....this time.

Topazi continued to drive for the promised 20 minutes, and she arrived at her parent’s house, cars already piling onto the lawn. Klaus quickly headed to the trash can outside, and threw the bottle away, getting sanitizer from the car. She grabbed a tin of the pasta salad, as well as Klaus, and he followed her to the front of the house.

“Are they even going to like me?” Klaus mumbled, eyebrows scrunching. They’d  had discussions about it before, and his worry was extremely valid. She didn’t want Klaus to feel left out, or bad about anything. He was still a really good lover. He’d voiced his concerns multiple times, and time and time again, she reassured him.

“You’ll be fine. If they say one thing you’re uncomfortable with, I won’t hesitate to leave this place and drive all the way back. You know that.” T replied, using a hand to softly rub his cheek. He leaned into her touch, and the door opened, right as she was reaching for the doorbell for a second ring.

“Hi! Come on it! And you bought a guest, who is this?” Alena asked, ushering her daughter and guest into the house.

“Mom, this is my partner Klaus. Also, pasta salad, which is getting warm as we speak, so let me set it down.” Topazi rushed into the kitchen, shuffling quickly into the house, Klaus bumbling after her, looking around. She opened the fridge and shoved her dish in, gently patting it before stretching mildly, an aftereffect of staying in one spot.

  T walked back over to Klaus and he smiled at her mom, who was walking him outside to meet the rest of the family. She followed closely behind, and she noticed him getting more and more comfortable. He went around meeting everyone and shaking their hands, or hugging them. T met up with her siblings, hugging them, and letting her nieces and nephews up on her hips. She played with them and chatted for a while, and Klaus came back to her, almost skipping.

“Did you know that your dad served in the Army?” Klaus asked her, a small sparkle in his eye.

“Klaus....he’s my dad. Why wouldn’t I know?” she replied, tilting her head to the side. She giggled at his look, and her siblings noticed him, and gave him a collective small rundown. She did argue with her siblings a fuck ton, but they always tended to come to her aid if needed.

  Klaus went around and introduced himself to T’s aunt that just came in, and she giggled as he was almost crushed by the force of her hug. She patted his back and looked him up and down.

“Goodness, you need somethin’ to eat, one more gust of wind, we won’t see you ‘til Christmas!” she stated, shaking her head jokingly.

  He giggled at the effort, and prodded about needing to go to a chiropractor. She cackled, and he went back to T, placing a tiny kiss to her cheek.

“This is going surprisingly well, what the fuuuck?!” he whispered, and she wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him. He placed his chin on top of her head and sighed in her touch. The moment, however, was short lived, as one of Topazi’s nieces came between them and giggled around their ankles, and Klaus picked one of them up, asking their name.

  She was pleasantly shocked at his reaction with the kids, and soon enough, the two of them were running in the yard, playing tag. She was currently in the lead, and her siblings were bounding towards her, waiting for there to be a chance to tackle her. Klaus came up from behind her and tackled her, causing the both of them to crash to the ground.

“Oh come on, that’s nowhere near fair!” she yelled, trying to wiggle away from him. He looked into her eyes, and pecked her lips. They sighed against each other and the sun baked their skin. Klaus eventually rolled off of T, and just as they were getting hungry, dinner was called.

  She ran to the backyard, dress billowing behind her, Klaus in tow, and she washed her hands before getting in line. Her mouth simply watered at the selection of southern food placed in front of her. Klaus was somewhat surprised at everything, but welcomed it happily when confronted with....wait a minute....sweet potatoes with cherries?? Topazi laughed at him, and promised to explain it to him once they sat down. Your family, and you could practically hear their thoughts “Shouldn’t he get more?”. It half sickened her to think of that though, so she found a lawn chair to sit in, carefully placing it to avoid the ant beds and tree roots.

“Okay so, what the fuck is with the sweet potatoes?” Klaus asked, shoving a spoonful of potato salad in his mouth.

“They’re called candied yams. The cherries help them become sweeter. And don’t take the fucking breadcrumbs off the mac and cheese. I’ll slaughter you, that’s the best part.” T whispered, slowly becoming more and more full.

  She went back for another serving (or two) and stopped at dessert, which was provided graciously. Many cakes and pies laid in front of her, as well as tarts, and, wait, who the fuck brought Krispy Kreme?

“Who got lazy?” she mumbled, walking back to Klaus with her plate full of sweets, and she immediately took a bite from the glazed donut, eyes closing. “Still warm though.”

“I mean, Honey only taught me to make a couple things, and donuts weren’t one of them.” he stated, sipping his tea.

  The sun began to set, and the drinks started pouring. The stories began to filter out, and Topazi saw Klaus start to nod off, and she announced their leaving. He sleepily said his goodbyes and when they got into the car, Klaus knocked out almost immediately. The drive home was very quiet. Music played quietly on the radio, and T hummed along quietly. Klaus shuffled every now and then in his sleep, and his breathing fogged the window on his side of the car. When they arrived home, Topazi gently woke Klaus, and he slowly made his way into the house, practically sleepwalking. As they were undressing and getting into bed, Klaus quietly whispered a couple words. Topazi barely heard him, and he repeated himself.

“Thank you for letting me meet your family. I enjoyed it. I’m happy I got to know the people who raised you. They did a damn good job too.” he whispered back, gently kissing Topazi’s head. She got a bit flustered from the compliment and gently thanked him as well, and the two of them fell asleep to the sound of their respective partner’s heartbeats.

Masterlist

[onelastbreath-writes]

I’ll Meet You There (Part 3)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Wife!Reader (AFAB, no y/n) 

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Talks about loss of spouse, loss of child, medical conditions/inaccuracies, grief/mourning, manipulation/brainwashing (subtext/implied, but we’ll get into it later *winkwink*)

Tags: Hurt/No comfort (for now), ANGST, eventual happy ending, one really sad man for whom I just keep making things worse, #sorrynotsorry, and now I’m just making stuff up as I go along

Summary(lite): You are Marcus’s wife, and you’re definitely not dead. No one is having a great time right now, but like hell if there's a force on this earth that’ll keep you apart forever. This is not a goodbye, its just a see you later. And the interim is going to be everyone else’s problem, you’ll make sure of it.

A/N: Hello dears, welcome back to my twisted mind story,,, guess who showed up like 2 weeks late with a smoothie! So things about this new chapter: I am a criminal with italics and someone needs to stop me, hello switching scenes and perspectives because I just want to fast forward to the good stuff but y’all don’t live in my head and don’t know all the stuff that happens to get us there so here we are taking the slow lane, and I keep brainstorming new and horrible things for my characters because I am A Lot, All The Time, and will not be stopped. Also hey, Marcus the Simp is here for you, so much. I hope this is acceptable to be a reader fic still, because I am giving you some serious personality traits... ehh, it is what it is. Tell me if you spot any of my various references, there’s a lot of ‘em. Thanks to everyone who has liked/reblogged/commented, y’all are gorgeous and I’m so grateful for the love <3 Drop me a message/ask if you want a secret about one of the characters (specify which one), I need an outlet for my endless b.t.s. plotting >;) Please enjoy p3!

AO3|Masterlist

[Previous Part]

---

There were more casseroles in his fridge that Marcus knew what to do with, and more sympathy and “thinking of you” cards stacked in piles around the house than he could count. He appreciated everyone’s gestures, but he could recognize the difference between people who were kind in the interest of helping others, and those who were kind only to help themselves. It was quite obvious which type were flooding his mailbox.

Hell, most of the people sending him cards, his fans, didn’t even know his wife, never spoke to her, didn’t feel the empty Her-shaped-space in their very souls. They just wanted the clout, the prestige, of being ‘involved’ and sympathetic to a grieving superhero. It was exhausting, but no one seemed to empathize with him on that.

The Heroics upper management, and the director specifically after his press conference and the publicity the attack had brought the organization, had insisted on Marcus taking an undetermined amount of leave from the team so he could “process and mourn his loss in the comfort of his own home.” Like he didn’t look around and see every piece of himself and his wife over the years; the Home they built for their family, filled with all the hopes and dreams of two starry eyed lovers ready to take on the world together. Like her absence wasn’t slowly killing him. 

And it wasn’t like she was gone gone.  

Dead.  

She wasn’t dead.

No way in Hell.  

Whether it was because she worked with superpowered people, her experience as a medical professional, or if she was just more paranoid than most, his wife was a planner, and she was prepared for this. “In the event of my death...," like she just knew it would be necessary.

Truthfully, she had schemes and contingencies and all manner of reactionary plans prepared for if (and when) the worst happened; terrified to be blindsided or caught unaware, unable to help those she would have been able to, if only if she had the time to think. Unpreparedness costs lives in both of their careers, and she refused to leave anything up to chance if possible. And so, she’d plan, and he’d listen.  

All throughout their relationship, from before they’d even gotten serious enough to discuss marriage, to when they heard their unborn child’s heartbeat for the first time, and just on random weekday afternoons when they would take Missy for walks around the neighbourhood to show her the beauty in their lives, his wife would paint her theories and ideas like artwork. She’d tell him a story, full of action and mystery, humour and theatrics, tragic romance and harrowing adventure; she could spin a tale like she had a silver tongue, but she never lost herself in her own narratives. In the end, they were messages, lessons, for him to remember when everything was going wrong.    

“It’s all about momentum, babe. Bleeding off energy and taking a bad hit instead of a fatal hit. You can’t just full stop; you’d absorb all the kinetic energy, and the resulting trauma will turn all your squishy internals into, like, body soup, which is just super unpleasant. And of course, head is always number one priority. Bracing for impact works better at giving you fewer serious injuries, especially for your neck and head. Muscles should absorb as much of the energy as possible, instead of letting it fall to your ligaments, discs, and nerves to take the force. So, tense up and roll in the case of a low air evacuation.”

Low air evac... she was concerned he was going to have to jump from an aircraft without a parachute at some point in his life. Which was probably accurate he’d admit, but still, he wasn’t hoping to actually need that plan.

Thankfully, it wasn’t always fire and brimstone with her, and she had many strange and terrible schemes to keep the common, everyday superhero family on their toes. Always carry at least two lip balms... never tell someone you don’t have plans for the evening... don’t smile in your mugshot... no clowns. Ever.

She was so weird, a total nerd, and so completely the girl of his dreams.  

He loved teasing her about her unending train of thought, the brain that never sleeps, how she’d go on tangents while on tangents but always circle back around; even nicknamed her (quite cheekily, and because it made them both laugh) Doctor Batman, which was usually saved for when she was being particularly dramatic and gloomy. Turn the supercomputer off for a second, Bats, come see what Missy’s doing!  

He was her anchor, always ready to pull her back to earth when she started drifting off too far from them, but he never asked and never wanted her to change. He adored her, silly or serious, or when she woke him up in the middle of the night to make him promise that he’d never get their kid(s) a pet owl (because they’re “scary”, and “our kids would be too powerful, Marcus. Promise me!”), or that in the event of them inviting a third to their bed, it would “absolutely never, ever, ever be Miracle. No way!”  

He thought it was quite entertaining most of the time, listening to her plan for zombies and old gods and what to do if everyone just started hating cheese one day, but if it was all so important to her: having him remember this or agree to that, he’d accede to her requests in a heartbeat. Most of it was cute, harmless stuff he didn’t think would even happen, but sometimes she would hit him with serious stuff. Entirely out of left field, she’d go for his heart, and ask him for things that would hurt him, destroy him inside, if he ever had to follow through with it.

“Marcus, if it’s a choice between my safety- my life, and Missy’s? I’m always going to choose her. Kids come first, okay?”  

She wasn’t superpowered, didn’t have a shred of anything other than pure, normal human in her, but she was easily the strongest person he knew. Fearless and brave, kinder than this world deserved, she’d do anything for the people she cared about. And she’d promised him, maybe as a way to repay him for all the things he’d agreed to over the years, that she’d move heavens and the earth to return to their family. That nothing in this world, or beyond, could keep her away. “Eventually,” she’d stared into his eyes, glossy with tears from how forcefully she believed, “I will find my way back to you. I swear it, so keep a weather eye on the horizon.” See? A whole-ass nerd, and he couldn’t have loved her more.

So, she wasn’t dead. Pure and simple. She was somewhere, somehow, and he was going to find her again.  

---

“Marcus, the grieving process is different for everyone, but it is always unpredictable and painful. You will have days where you will feel like you haven’t made any progress, or even lost the progress you’ve previously made, but please know that this is natural; it's something everyone experiences, and that it doesn’t mean you’ve failed in your objective. Healing takes time, and a major part of recovery is learning to forgive yourself when you slip up. No one expects you to be back to normal tomorrow, or next week, or next month. Healing from grief is not a race, so we will go at your own pace, and we will work together to accomplish your recovery goals. You aren’t alone in this journey, and you don’t need to handle everything by yourself.”

The grief specialist he was seeing was someone he would describe as an “old soul”. She exuded the patience and peace of someone who had watched empires rise and fall, seen the turning of the wheel of time and drifted along with the current. Her voice was deep, rich in emotion and empathy for those who needed guidance, calming and intriguing with a soft lilt on her vowels. Timeless and ancient all in one, and even if he wasn’t actually mourning the death of his wife, he did find himself deeply grieving being without her. They were two halves of a whole, and though his soul was at a loss without its partner here, he still had their greatest creation, their pride and joy, their baby girl to raise.  

He would do whatever he had to do to be the best parent he could for Missy. And so, if meeting with a physiatrist every week was something that would help, then he would be here, every week. He'd learn to live with his grief, his sadness and loneliness, with just the memory of his Everything, and he’d help their kid with all hers too.  

It’s what he promised to do, after all.

“If anything ever happens to me, you’ll just have to love her enough for the both of us.”  

---

There was nothing they could recover of the people closest to centre of the explosion. No remains, no blood, nothing. Like they hadn’t been there at all.  

Suspicious.

Upper Management had brought in a team of private investigators to handle the case, people who would keep the details quiet and the public appeased with what little information they’d choose to release.  

Marcus was a superhero, and sure, his job was to hit things until they weren’t a problem anymore, but he couldn’t understand why all the highly trained professionals didn’t question the sheer amount of evidence that just wasn’t adding up.  

He tried to bring up the inconsistencies once with the lead investigator, but they had just given the distraught, widowed husband, so lost in his own denial and grasping at straws, a sad smile and told him they would do everything they could to find the truth for him and the rest of the victims’ families.

Typical.

After being brushed off without a second thought, he decided to keep his ideas quiet, and since they’d proven their unwillingness to listen, he’d just have to solve the mass disappearance himself.  

“Have you ever thought about how to commit the perfect murder, mi amor? I have. First: If there’s no body, they can’t prove the person is dead. No evidence of death? No murder. Simple. But of course, completely vanishing a full human would be a challenge. Short of having the superpowers necessary to, like, erase someone from reality in their entirety, there would be a lot of chances to leave evidence. Ordering suspicious chemicals leaves a trail, driving out to a pig farm in the middle of the night is shady as hell and all neighbors are professional narcs, and fires? Hah! Do you have any idea how hot the fire needs to be to cremate human remains, and how long they would need to grill for? Huh, maybe the perfect murder isn’t a murder at all...  

Hey babe...  

Always doubt a body, but always doubt no body, more.”

---

You tended to lose time when there was no one else in your room. It was hard to tell when your eyes were open because you started dreaming about the only things you could see since you first woke up: drop-ceiling tiles, white walls, and pale blue curtain dividers. And it was easier that way, in the end. Your heart didn’t hurt when you only dreamt of the room. You couldn’t mourn the things and people only your soul could remember if you thought of the room. Drifting in and out of consciousness was how you were coping.  

---

You had been here, left in this room alone, for ages. You had agreed to help the man who had saved you from the explosion that killed your family, but apparently you couldn’t help him until you had recovered enough. You’d read your charts, grilled your nurses and doctors more and more the longer you were kept here. What were they all waiting for? There was nothing wrong with you except the mild post traumatic amnesia, and the whole not-remembering-much-(or anything, really)-about-your-personal-life-and-family-of-the-recent-few-years thing you had going on. It was nothing compared to when you first awoke and could remember nothing. It killed you to be without the memories of your husband and child, to know only of them instead of actually knowing them, but there was nothing you or the doctors here could do. The brain was a tricky thing, and you had to accept that your memory loss might be permanent.  

That just meant that you had to put all that you could remember to good use. You could help people here, and work towards getting justice for your family. Years and years of school, practical experience and training, you had gained it all back; re-read textbooks and studies, wrote papers on your re-emerging knowledge and jogged your memory about long nights and early mornings, surgeries and follow ups... it was all still in your head. It had returned to you easily, like diving into a cool pool on a hot summer day. It was like coming home and taking off your shoes; it felt good, freeing, as-it-should-be.  

But still they weren’t letting you leave. So: what were they waiting for?  

“Ah, Doctor, it’s lovely to see you, as always. How are we feeling today?” Okay, so the guy who “saved” you (read: paid the people who actually saved your life)  gave you the heebie-jeebies. He looked like a classic pompous asshole bigwig, like, oil tycoon or something. And he definitely had some sort of thing for you. Gross.

“I’m doing as well as can be expected, trapped in a room with nothing to do, you know, brain rotting, et cetera. Thanks for asking.” The sass was a choice, probably not a great choice, but your choice none-the-less. You really hadn’t had many opportunities to choose anything for yourself in a while.  

Well...

You were bored, and that was going to be everyone else’s problem.  

“Ah, well, good news then! You have been cleared from observation and you’ll be able to be discharged soon. Isn’t that just delightful!” Mister Craig (“Please, just Greg is fine”), was some sort of horrible group hallucination, you were convinced. No one was that cheery, that animated, unless they were on something, or you were on something. “I’ll have someone bring you your personal effects shortly, and then I can show you to your new apartment. The complex isn’t in the best neighbourhood unfortunately, but it's got some real charm, very vintage! You’ll love it!”

“I’ll look forward to seeing it then; sounds like it’ll be a real interesting place to stay. You can also explain what it is I’m going to be doing with your organization. Because you haven’t specified yet. And I expect a proper contract and wage agreement. Legally binding preferably, for your sake, of course, Mr. Craig.” Even if you weren’t the most physically intimidating person around, you knew how, and more so, when, to assert your dominance in a conversation. Especially with men like him. He was the type of guy who would pinch a nurse’s ass and then accuse them of not being able to take a joke.  

“You wound me, Doctor, I am a man of integrity! I promised you an opportunity to make a difference! To get justice for the loved ones so cruelly torn from you! You have nothing to worry about!”  

Sounds legit. Totally above board. Can’t wait.

---

Taglist (omg!! thanks love): @killtherandomness​

Drop me a line if you want to be added <3

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #345

“this is the year where hope fails you  /  the test subjects run the experiment  /  and the bastards you know, is the hero you hate”

Do you have any scars from burns? No. Have you ever built a snowman? Yes. Growing up, Dad would always help my sisters and I make them. Good memories. How about a sand castle? Yeah, but not any impressive ones at all. Just the ones where you fill a pail with sand and flip it over. Have you ever used crutches? Tried when I tore a ligament in my foot, but the pair we had were too tall for me to use them comfortably at all, so I never really "used" them. Have you ever been in a tree house? No. Would you ever move to China? No. Did you ever go to daycare as a kid? I went to one for literally a day because Mom was disgusted with how I was treated. I accidentally wandered into the wrong room or something and one of the guardians slapped my hand when she scolded me, and I think I sobbed the rest of the day, but partially because I had AWFUL separation anxiety from my mom. Afterwards, Mom just had people she knew babysit my sisters and me. Who’s one of the most talented people you know? What are they talented at? As for people who are still in my life/I still consider to "know," I'm unsure, but only because there are so many talented people in my life. One of my older sisters is a fantastic cake decorator and artist in general, and my little sister is truly skilled with working with children; she's a kid magnet. Sara is really good at animation, and I wish she'd do it more! Do you usually pay with cash, debit card, or credit card? Cash. I don't have a credit or debit card. Are you the type of person who can make friends with just about anyone? Yeah, but I have my limits. I'm very open-minded and can befriend people with a wide range of beliefs and personalities, but I know where to draw the line. There comes a point where giving your friendship to someone is like passively supporting their ways, and I don't want to do that if those are overwhelmingly negative and/or hateful. Have you ever experienced a medical emergency? Well yeah, I overdosed on cold medicine. I was surprisingly okay, but I assume it's because I was taken to the hospital fast enough for fluids? Idk. What was the last thing you borrowed from someone? Ummm no clue. Are you muscular? Uh, no. When you go to a restaurant, do you prefer to sit at a booth or a table? Booth. What’s something you think everyone should do/experience at least once in their life? Love. Has your car ever been broken into? I don't have a car, but neither of my parents' has been. Have you ever recorded yourself doing a cover of a song? No. Do you watch television shows more in the dark or the day time? I just don't watch TV. Are there any movies out there that basically make you want to puke? None that I've seen, no. But I won't watch The Human Centipede for this exact reason, as I KNOW it would make me hurl. Any secrets you’d never tell anyone? No matter how close they are to you? Yes. Do you consider yourself a promiscuous person? Not even slightly. Do you know anyone who has AIDS? What about yourself? I don't know anyone with it, no, and I don't have it either. Has anyone ever mistaken you to be a member of the opposite sex? No. What’s your favorite hair color on the opposite sex that you love? I like colored hair, but if we're talking natural colors, then black. Have you ever had a child before? If so, what’s his/her name? Nope, never gonna have one. Which baby animal is your favorite? Meerkats for sure. I also love kittens. Do you like jam on your toast and biscuits? Yeah. Are there any plants in your home? No. What food does honey go best with? *shrug* Have you ever carved a pumpkin? Yeah. Have you ever reread a book? I read Because of Winn-Dixie twice, and I've read Meerkat Manor: Flower of the Kalahari countless times, although after the first read, I skipped over Clutton-Brock's massive tangents that had nothing to do with meerkats. They really took away from the book, imo. Would you ever like to own a chandelier? Sure, like above the dinner table. It's not a big deal for me, though. What scent is the last body wash you used? Oh my god, it's this cinnamon bun scent that I got for I think my b-day, and I LOVE it. It's going to suck when it's gone. Do you have any religious symbols in your home? Probably somewhere, I just don't pay attention. What religion do you identify with, if any? None. Do you enjoy flavored coffee? If so, which flavor is your favorite? I don't like coffee at all. Do you know someone who has asthma? Yeah, my mom. What is the most controversial thing you’ve done? Come out as bi, I guess. Other than interviews, do you ever “dress to impress?" No. Are you currently listening to music? Yeah: "The Man Who Made a Monster" by Dance With the Dead. When was the last time you got really nervous? I should NOT be blanking on this, but I sure am. I don't think I've been REALLY nervous in a while, but certainly nervous like... always. What was the first thing you ate today? I had a bagel. Have you ever had one of those elementary-school boy/girlfriends? No; I didn't have my first boyfriend 'til the 7th grade. Name something random in your car: I don't have my own car. What do you want to tell someone who has died (and who is it, if anything)? I wish I could tell Steve Irwin thank you and that he truly did change the world. I think a lot about just how unspeakably proud he would be of his children and how madly in love he'd be with Bindi's newborn. That family is the definition of wholesome, and I desperately wish Steve was still around. Have you ever stolen from a friend or family member? Wow, no. Would/did you cheat on someone for revenge? Or if they wouldn’t find out? No, that's incredibly childish. If you got pregnant right now, would you keep the baby? The only way I could get pregnant right now was if I was, God fucking forbid, raped. I don't think I'd be able to keep it; it would scar me for life, but at the same time, even though I'm pro-choice, I don't know if I could go through with an abortion without feeling like shit and forever thinking "well you could've just given it up for adoption." I don't like thinking about this topic. Any history with eating disorders (or tendencies)? No, thankfully. I've had bulimic thoughts before, but I've never acted on them. Does your family have a secret? No. If single, would you knowingly be who someone cheats on someone else with? Nooope. Guilt would eat me alive. Have you ever contemplated physically hurting yourself or another? I have hurt myself, but never other people. Choose one living person you’d like to meet. I won't have lived a full life w/o meeting Mark at least once laksdj;flakwjer. Who is someone you know would take a bullet for you? My mom would without a millisecond's hesitation. I'm sure Dad would, too. The next time you are on an airplane, where will you be traveling to? Most likely Illinois to visit Sara again. Where is your dad from? Ohio. Aside from your own, whose house did you last set foot into? My older sister's. What is something that makes you very squeamish? Vomit is #1. Do you even use an alarm clock, or do you just use your phone? I use my phone. Have you ever moved to a different state? No. Lived in NC my whole life. Can you do long division in your head? I can't do math in my head period. Do you have a wide imagination? Oh yes. Would you mind living on a farm? I wouldn't want to. Farms take way too much maintenance. Do you enjoy watching horror films? Oh yeah. Have you ever been to Niagara Falls? No, but I'd love to. Who are you in love with? Nobody. When is the last time you took a picture? I took a picture of Venus like a week ago when I had her out of her terrarium and she was just coiled between my arm and the laptop, totally chillin' out. I was IN a picture just a couple days ago, because my eldest sister came over to visit with her husband. It was great. Do you wash your own car or make the car wash do it? I don't have a car. Are you a fan of parties? Not big ones, no. I'd enjoy chilling out with a few people I'm friends with/know, just chatting and hanging out. Next trip you’re going to take? I don't know. My sister Misty's wedding is coming up soon, but we doubt we'll be able to go because of 1.) Mom's car would never make the drive, and 2.) Covid, and Mom's immunocompromised. It sucks, but she's being understanding about it. Were you in honor roll in school? Yeah. If you could know one thing about the future, what would it be? If I'll ever be happy with my life. What’s your favorite lunch meat? Ham. Do you drink your soda from a straw? I don't like to, no, because I drink faster via a straw, and I like to drag my soda out throughout the day so I don't go through more than I should. Do you like hot sauce? Yesssssss. Do you like Ellen Degeneres? Sure, she seems like a great person. Who do you think is the cutest celebrity? UMMMMMM like have you ever seen Mark Fischbach laugh?????? Did you ever play softball? For quite a long time as a kid, yeah. Would you like to live to be 110 years old? No, that sounds like torture. I don't want to live to where I'm essentially a walking (if even) corpse. No energy, no strength... no thanks. Do you like getting your picture taken? NO. Ever seen a tornado? Thank fuck no. When you were little, did you do gymnastics? No. Do you know anyone who is pregnant? I know a number of people who are. Two are due very soon. Do you like being the X or the O when you play tic-tac-toe? I like being the X. Have you ever tried crowd surfing? No. Do you like the movie Bambi? If so, who is your favorite on there? I've actually somehow never seen it, though I would like to. Do you like onion rings? No. Are you more afraid of going to the doctor or dentist? I'm not really afraid of either, but I dislike going to the doctor more. Have you ever been to an animal shelter? Yeah. Have you ever bought yourself or someone else lingerie? No. Have you ever had a serious issue involving your eyes? Nothing more than needing glasses. When you were a teenager, did your parents set rules about dating? Not really, besides the obvious age gap stuff. I was allowed to follow my heart with who I was interested in, really. Have you ever lived with a person who you tried to avoid at all costs? There were times like this with Dad when my parents were still together and he was in a bad mood, especially if he was drinking. Have you ever committed a crime that directly harmed another person? No. What is your worst childhood memory? There was this very weird three day period where I could've sworn up and down I was constantly on the verge of puking. On the third night, Mom finally took me to the hospital, but they couldn't find anything wrong. Oddly enough, I felt better the next morning... The whole situation was fucking awful for someone who was and still is terrified of vomiting. Do you remember where you first drove to after getting your license? I don't have my license. What did you get into trouble for the most when you were a kid? Being on the computer too much. What is your favourite game show to watch? Family Feud with Steve Harvey. When’s the last time had to cover a coworker’s shift? Never. Is there a word you have an emotional connection to? "Petrichor." How about a sound? Any emotional connection to a sound? LOTS of songs. Where is your favourite place to get fries? Bojangle's. Their seasoning is *chef's kiss* Do you always have a stock of alcohol in your house? No. Have you ever fainted? Yes. Do you get out of bed on the left side or right side? Left. Do you fall asleep with your mouth open or closed? It embarrasses me for some reason, but usually open, because I have a hard time breathing through my nose when I lie down for some reason? I don't take allergy medicine though when I'm really supposed to, so that might explain it... Is there a book you keep telling yourself you’ll read but still haven’t? I have Margaret Atwood's The Testaments that I want to read, but Wings of Fire has taken precedent, so I really don't know if I'll get to it. It would also be nice to catch up with Erin Hunter's Warriors, but that I know I won't do. Did your family ever own a vacation home? No. Have you ever opened a wine bottle? Nope. Have you been inside of a police station? No. What would you never change about yourself? I mean, there's a number of things. I would never allow myself to lose my empathy and compassion for others, for one. I'll never grow a head too big for my body. Do you pretty much need a car to get around where you live? Yeah. Public transport isn't a big thing here, especially outside the cities, and living in the South, places are pretty spread out/not within reasonable walking distance. Have you been to Australia? No, and I'm honestly too scared to go, even though I think it would be extremely cool. All the venomous animals just frighten me, and I find huntsman spiders to be TERRIFYING, regardless of how harmless they are. Do you mind drinking room-temperature water? UGH, I absolutely do mind. I HAVE to drink cold water. If it's even slightly on the warm side, it makes me want to gag.

[owlsoldwritingcorner]

The Ghost (Part 1)

Pairing :Wrench x Reader

AO3 Link

Summary:

The Chicago Dedsec branch struck up a deal with the San Fran Dedsec branch and the two will start working more closely from now on. The Chicago branch also believes that giving a few people from their “clean up” crew would help out the other branch significantly and luckily for both of them, you happened to already be moving to San Francisco with your family.

Funny enough. You meet the man who unintentionally coaxed you into joining Dedsec in the first place.

“Wait, hold up. As in, The Ghost? The one who helped out The Fox?” “They say whenever you took a job, the victims would disappear without a trace. A recording of their crying would be left on the premise, acting as their ghost wails.” “Oh, am I a household name already? Oh, how embarrassing.”

Note: This is the first Watch dogs fic I've written so I'm sorry if anyone seems too OOC. One big difference would be that Marcus's group doesn't kill unless absolutely necessary. Aiden and Reader on the other hand are a bit more... Morally Ambiguous at times.ALSO! Reader is Asian (Specifically Southeast Asian), I try my best to to mention it too often (Mostly with their family and a passing comment) so you guys can still relate to them more. Also, certain characters will have their own pronouns for reader cuz they don't know (i.e Marcus says He/him but Ray calls them She/her). They also have a certain kind of body type similar to mine, but like the race, it won't be mentioned too often! Different pronouns will be like this until a certain point so I am sorry if you aren't into that!

Chapter 1: Moving Day

God, who fuckin’ knew moving was gonna be hell on your back? You had already packed everything from your room and started helping your family with the rest of the packing up. Boxes are now your worst goddamn enemy, at this point a close second to Blume.

So, the Chicago Dedsec branch struck up a deal with the San Fran Dedsec branch and the two will start working more closely from now on. The Chicago branch also believes that giving a few people from their “clean up” crew would help out the other branch significantly and luckily for both of them, you happened to already be moving to San Francisco with your family.

“Hey pumpkin, could you get some of these boxes for me?” Your mother comes into the room, interrupting your glaring battle with the room full of boxes (of which you were totally winning), with a tower of even more boxes in her arms. Quickly, you took half of the stacked boxes in her arms and placed them with the pile, you can now see her tired eyes that were previously covered by cardboard.

“Thank you, pumpkin. My arms were killing me,” Your mother emphasized her point by stretching out her arms and a few popping noises accompanied the movements. “So, how are you feeling about the move? I know we’ve lived in this house since you were a baby but… A change of scenery is always nice. Right?” You let out a little sigh. You really are going to miss those places you’d go to as a kid. The Honeymoon Cafe, that Thai restaurant, hell you’re gonna miss that damn dog that would bark through the night every day.

“Plus you can always make new friends over there!” You know your mom was trying to comfort you but, making friends was never your strong suit in the first place. Plus…

“Mom, I’m 20 years old now.”

“Just cause you’re 20 it doesn’t mean you can’t make friends.”

“I take classes online and stay inside for weeks straight half the time. The other half being at work. ” Work being, well, Dedsec. Clients always preferred going at night. Granted, cleaning up the area during the day is much harder than at night considering all the bystanders during these jobs.

“Oh! You should be able to make friends with your new coworkers at the other branch then! Speaking of work, that reminds me, sweetie. Make sure to bring mace with you whenever you get back home. I don’t know why you’re so adamant on keeping this job, you work so late!” It’s not like mace is gonna fully stop someone. Especially not the kinds of guys you deal with on the daily.

“It plays really well!” Might not have insurance, but, still. Clients pay good money. “And anyway, by that logic, you should have been able to make friends with your old coworkers too.”

“That’s different, honey. I hated my old coworkers.” She gave you a sweet smile but you could feel the rage that was hidden underneath. But you just rolled your eyes.

“Yep. Had an earful of that info everyday. Thanks.”

“You’re seriously just as bad as mom now when it comes to complaining, sis.” Your aunt finally came out of the bathroom and was currently heading towards your grandmother's room to help her out of bed.

“They could barely organize their files! Madeline couldn’t even train me properly!” You and your aunt just gave each other a knowing look before giving your mom little nods as she went off on another tangent about her coworkers. After that whole spiel, you finally got around to carrying your sweet pit bull, Ripley, into the car trunk (All the boxes were in the moving truck just behind you all).

“God, she’s just a big baby, aren’t you?” Your mom baby talked to the big dog often, who in turn gave a happy bark as if saying ‘I am! You gotta love me!’, your mother then turned to you. “I’m still shocked you can carry her so easily like that… She’s as big as you!” To which you just shrugged. Finally, your aunt came, grandma in one hand and helped the elder woman in the car before taking her seat next to grandma.

“I guarantee you’re gonna love it in California, mauppy.” Your aunt said. She did live in California for almost ten years now, so she was the expert compared to the rest of you. You just rolled your eyes at the nickname and another one of these ‘hey new places to live but you’ll love it!’ talk.

“I think Uncle Scott is gonna be the happiest out of all of us, he’s gonna have his impulse control back.”

“Yeah, he ate two large pizzas by himself in under an hour just the other night.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong, that’s just a Tuesday night.”

“Sweetie. I’m going to marry him in a couple months. Next thing you know he can’t even fit into his tux and just have his whole gut out while we say our vows.” You wince at the image. Yeah that… That looks kind of sad.

“ Next thing you know you’ll have to roll around your husband to his clients !” Your grandmother joked around before taking a puff of her inhaler. You all laughed at the thought before you quietly checked your purse for your daily asthma meds and inhaler.

Good. Everything is ready to go.

Goodbye, Home.

Hello, San Francisco.

As you fell asleep during the road trip, you dreamt of a familiar masked man.

You smiled at the image of his hidden face.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, it was time to move everything in the new house. Just as you got out of the car, you stood still as if the ice queen herself froze you.

Both your legs were asleep.

“Aw, while your legs are waking up, make sure to help Ripley get used to the new house!” Your aunt said as she helped grandma from the car, you let out a pained groan that your aunt took as an affirmative sound.

After all the boxes were in the house and you got the dog’s bed in your room, you flopped onto your bed. Exhausted to the bone. Unfortunately, you just received a text message. Limply, you flipped yourself over and reached for your phone.

Oh, It’s Clara!

It's been a couple years since you’ve seen her. She and Aiden finally got together soon after the whole Damien and Maurice situation, moving in with Aiden’s sister and nephew. Good riddance, they always gave each other googly eyes.

So gross.

Wonder how he’s doing now?

You let out an exasperated huff at the memory.

Yeah but like… The man has a justice boner sometimes. Not literally but, he tried to catch every. Single. Crime  he walks past. That man has never relaxed a day in his life.

Someone got robbed on the street over? Guess who’s already there. The almighty masked vigilante! The man’s probably never relaxed a day in his life, hell, you never even seen the dude take a nap.

God… You already missed Chicago.

You put your phone on charge on top of the nightstand near your bed, turning off the lights and finally getting into bed to sleep off all the work.

Tomorrow is going to be a long ass day.

You can feel it in your gut.

[rora-s]

The Derivative Chapter 1: Sixteen

“Abbs come on time to leave” Janice called into the back room at the diner. 

“Coming” the teenager replied and grabbed her backpack from the floor. Waving bye to the diner chef she followed her mother out the door. 

Janice and Abby loaded into their small sedan. The vehicle was packed full of stuff from clothes to random bit and bobs. They practically lived out of their car for the last couple years until they settled down in the latest apartment and even then they had been hesitant to finally make the move. 

“Okay so I was thinking” Janice began as she pulled out of the parking lot. 

“Oh that’s dangerous” Abby murmured with a smirk as they drove. 

Janice shot her daughter a look. “Well in a few months you’ll be turning the beautiful age of sixteen. And I was wondering what you wanted to do to celebrate? Cause if you want something big I’ll have to start saving now. But of course if you would rather run your mouth-” 

“Hey hey hey I had to get this sarcasm somewhere” Abby pointed out.

“Yes your father” Janice replied. 

“Yes blame it on the non-existent father in my life” Abby scoffed. 

Janice sighed “alright anyway you want to have a celebration or what?” 

“I don’t know” Abby shrugged. “It’s not like I want a party or anything maybe us just hanging out?” 

“How about a picnic?” Janice suggested pulling up to a red light. Abby gave her a perplexed look. “Lay out a blanket on the floor in the apartment. Get some nice food it could be great” 

“Yeah that sounds great Mom” Abby agreed “you’re the best” 

“I try” Janice replied.

They both laughed as the light turned green. There was the sound of a blaring horn. The car filled with bright light Abby felt her mother’s hand collide with her chest. She heard the screech of brakes and the crunch of metal. 

“Mom!”

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

“Abby!” Bang! Bang! Bang! “Come on get up! Your alarms been going for the last ten minutes!” 

I groaned in exhausted annoyance and rolled over in my blankets swatting haphazardly at the alarm on my nightstand. There was another round of banging on my bedroom door “I’m up! I’m up!” I yawned sitting up in my bed.

“Listen I got to get to work and you have to get to school so start moving” the man on the other side of my door ordered. 

“I am moving” I responded around a second yawn. 

“Yeah you totally sound awake” I heard him mutter. 

“Hey I heard that” I called and got a scoff in response as he headed on down the hallway. 

With a deep breath I got up and started getting ready. My room was pretty plain with a dresser and bed and a couple knickknacks strewn about. I’d only been living in it for a little less than a month which was quite apparent. Though I didn’t have much stuff in the first place. I threw on a t-shirt, jeans, plaid button up, and my well loved and sharpied sneakers. 

I headed downstairs with my backpack over my shoulder tossing it on the couch. My biological father was pouring himself some coffee in the kitchen. “Morning” He muttered as I began fixing myself some cereal. 

“Morning Don” I replied. 

“Listen with this case I’m working I’m probably going to be home late” he started. 

“Am I staying at Grandpa’s then?” I inquired. 

“Maybe not staying but you’ll be going there after school today” the FBI agent explained. 

“Awesome” I responded sarcastically “maybe I’ll get some decent food then” 

“Ouch” Don joked as his phone rang. He answered it and went into business mode “Eppes… yeah?” his face fell as he listened to the person on the other line “when? Where?” he checked his watch and I knowingly started eating faster. “Yeah alright I’ll be there as soon as I can… yeah” he hung up and started moving faster grabbing his things. 

“Case?” I asked, finishing my cereal and sliding my bowl into the sink. 

“Yup come on I have to get you to school and then go to a crime scene” he explained. 

“But I haven’t brushed my hair or my teeth yet” I objected standing up as he walked past me to grab his jacket. 

“Chew some gum and I don’t know, wear a hat” he offered. 

“They don’t allow hats in school” I explained, not dropping the sarcastic edge from my voice.

Don seemed rather frazzled. “Well then I don’t know what to tell you. Now come on” I sighed and grabbed my backpack as we headed out the door. “Since when do you care about your hair anyway?” 

I rolled my eyes running my fingers through my short brown hair “you’re the worst parental guardian ever” 

_____________

3rd POV. 

“Silber’s at work right now at the hospital” Terry informed as her and Don loaded into the truck. 

“Alright let’s get heading that way then” the man muttered. Pulling out of the FBI car lot. 

They drove for only a couple seconds before Terry spoke up again. “So you were late to the crime scene this morning” it was a cross between a statement and a question. 

Don sighed “yeah Abby had a late start and I had to drop her at school” 

“Right being a dad’s not that easy huh?” the woman voiced. 

Don scoffed in response. “Well I don’t know if I even qualify as a dad yet.” he explained “she definitely doesn’t call me one. This morning I was dubbed the worst parental guardian ever”

“Well she called you her parent sorta” Terry offered.

Don chuckled lightly “yeah sorta” 

“Relax Don, she's a moody fifteen year old girl who just came to live with her birth father. She needs some time to adjust” the profiler explained as they turned onto the street with the hospital. 

“Sixteen this weekend actually” Don informed. 

“Really?” Terry looked to the man in surprise. “You guys doing anything? Party? Something?” 

Don shrugged “I got her a present. A ball cap.” Terry shot her partner a pointed look “what? I don’t know what teenage girls are into these days. And as for a party with what friends?” The two agents climbed out of the car in front of the large hospital. “She hates school, never really even talks to anybody.” 

“She’s gifted right? Like your brother the mathematician?” the woman inquired. 

“In a different way but yeah” Don nodded. “Took college algebra in fifth grade from what I understand and can remember anything she’s ever read. Actually she reads anything you put in her hand faster than the average person” 

“Well then it makes sense she would hate school. She’s not learning anything” Terry voiced. 

“Yeah well they won’t put her in an advanced program cuz she doesn’t have a solid school report history” Don explained “I don’t even think she was ever in the 1st or 2nd grade even” 

Terry nodded as they entered the hospital elevator “you know it might help if you actually talk to her about it.”

“Yeah” Don sighed as the doors closed. 

______________

Abby POV. 

I sat in yet another class bored out of my mind. I was two chapters ahead of my teacher and classmates in all of my classes and most of the topics they discussed I had learned about already. 

“Now the derivative is a way to show the rate of change. That is, the amount by which a function is changing at one given point. For functions that act on the real numbers, it is the slope of the tangent line at a point on a graph…” 

I tuned out my teacher and rested my head on my desk. I had positioned myself in the very back corner of the classroom as to attract the least attention from my teacher and peers. Reaching into my backpack I pulled out my blinders. My medical grade sunglasses like eye cover that I put on to block out all visual stimuli. They were given to me by a doctor that examined me for my memory while I was in the foster system. 

As I rested there isolating my mind from the world I began to dwell on the various things that rested in the back of my mind. However one topic I tended to shy away from. A topic that was getting harder to avoid. My birthday.

It was coming up and I wasn’t completely certain I wanted to do anything for it. Me and my mom had talked about how we were going to celebrate it. But she was gone now and Don. I doubted he even remembered it was coming. 

The bell rang pulling me from my thoughts. I slipped my blinders to the top of my head and grabbed my stuff. Heading for the door. “Abby” I turned to the teacher who was sitting at her desk. “Can I talk to you for a second?” 

I shifted in my path for the door and walked over to Mrs. Clive’s desk. “What do you need.” 

She gave me a look and picked up a book from her desk handing it to me. “I saw your birthday was this weekend. Got you this” 

I took the book from her and looked at it. The book was Grim Grotto by Lemony Snicket. A book I had been after since its release earlier this year. “Thank you” I murmured. 

“Ms. Rampart from the library said that you had been pestering her about it since you joined us so I figured it must be something you’re interested in” Clive informed. 

“Yeah I got hooked on it and read up to current last year,” I explained. 

“You know with the monster stories you come in here with I wouldn’t have figured you for the series of unfortunate events” Clive voiced.

I scoffed “yeah and what would you figure I’d read?” 

Clive grinned back “war and peace” 

I shrugged “read that years ago” 

The woman nodded “well go on or you’ll miss your bus” 

“Thank you Mrs. Clive, for the book” I told her. 

“You’re welcome Abby and happy birthday” she smiled. 

“Thanks” I nodded heading out of her classroom. Mrs. Clive was probably my favorite teacher at this school though she was a little too observant on some things. She always took the time to ask me how I was and never got mad at me for not paying attention in class. Of course she did get annoyed when I didn’t turn in homework on time. She knew I could do it. 

I had to jog to get to my bus on time and as I was one of the last ones on I had to sit next to some kid who was half standing on the seat turned around talking to his friend. I was thankful that my stop was quick on the route. 

Hopping off I walked up to my grandfather’s house and let myself in the front door. “Abby! Is that you?” he called. 

“Yeah gramps” I called back. 

He appeared shortly after “ah hey how was your day?” 

“Fine” I shrugged, tossing my backpack on the couch. “Is uncle Charlie here?” 

“Uh yeah upstairs I think” he replied. “You want a snack?” 

“No I'm good” I settled onto the couch and opened the book Clive had gotten me. 

“The grim grotto” Alan read aloud. “Sounds interesting” 

“Yeah it’s from Lemony Snicket's series of Unfortunate Events” I explained. 

“Seems like a light read for you” the man commented sitting down in one of the chairs nearby and picking up the paper. 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I exclaimed exasperatedly. 

“Because you read twice as fast as the average person and have an Advanced Eiaditic memory” Alan explained. 

“It’s Advanced Eidetic” I corrected “and just because I read faster doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a small book like this” 

“If you say so” Alan sighed seemingly annoyed with me “so what’s so fascinating about this book series anyway” 

“I don’t know” I replied honestly as I shifted on the couch pulling my feet up “I guess I can relate to being bounced around all the time from place to place under unfortunate circumstances” My grandfather made a humming noise and finally ended his questioning as I turned my attention back to my book. We both returned to our normal after school reading silence. 

____________________________

“Donnie!” I heard my father’s announced arrival from gramps before I saw the man himself  

“Brisket. Must be Friday.” Don murmured as I came wandering out of the kitchen to see him.

“What’s up?” Alan inquired of his eldest son.

“I didn’t have time to drive home. Can I catch a shower here, maybe borrow a clean shirt?” the man requested.

“Yeah, sure, be my guest.” Alan agreed easily.

“So much for 'not staying'” I commented knowingly. 

Don sighed, turning to look at me. “Yeah sorry kid. Case took a turn” 

“It’s fine” I muttered in reply. I knew Don’s work could be trying sometimes and keep him away from home for long periods of time. Which led to me spending half my time staying at my grandfather’s house. 

“Yeah well it’s nice having you around the house anyway” Alan told me as Don turned to head upstairs. “And tell your brother to come down for dinner” Gramps called after his eldest son. 

“If the food’s done he’s probably on his way already” I joked taking a seat at the table.

Alan scoffed and turned back to Don. “you want some there’s plenty” 

“No, I can’t.” The FBI agent objected, removing his tie and tossing it on the table “I got to get back to work.” 

As Don left to go upstairs Charlie appeared. “Abby? When did you get here?” 

I exchanged a look with Alan who was pouring water into everyone’s glasses. “A couple weeks ago Uncle C” I called in a sarcastic reply. Which earned me a look from my uncle. 

I saw the man’s attention shift to the maps my father had brought in with him. I got up to go look over his shoulder at them. “Hey you two that’s Don’s work. Probably be better if you not mess with it” 

“We’re just looking at the map gramps” I responded over my shoulder as I took in the information surrounding the thirteen little red dots on this map. My brain kicked into autopilot as it began various calculations. 

“Well then just the map then none of the files” Alan ordered “you hear me”

“Yeah dad we hear you” Charlie responded this time. However from his tone you could tell his mind was somewhere else. 

“You think there’s something here?” I asked.

“Maybe” Charlie breathed out as we both continued to analyze the data. “We could help” Charlie was talking lightly both our minds processing the information on the maps with mathematical precision. “Crime scenes”

“Tracking, rating, origin point” I muttered looking at the scattered red dots. Me and Charlie looked at each other both realizing the same thing at the same time.

“Charlie, Abby, what do you think you’re doing?” I turned as Don’s voice came from behind. He was done with his shower.

“Crime scenes” Charlie replied seemingly unaware of Don’s obvious annoyance “what kind of crimes?”

“Get away from here” Don snapped folding up the map quickly “these are confidential case files”

“I already saw the map it’s imprinted on my memory” I replied pointedly. “It doesn’t really matter whether you put it up now or not and we didn’t get in the files.”

“She’s telling the truth.” Alan called from where he was feeding his pet bird. “They just looked at the map. I made sure they didn’t go through anything else.”

“Good,” Don grumbled, grabbing his tie.

“Thirteen crime scenes spread over a contained region. You guys are analyzing the significance of those locations?” Charlie inquired of Don as the older brother tied his tie in the mirror on the wall. I stayed over by the table Charlie followed him.

“Yeah, it’s called predictive analysis.” Don explained “the FBI pioneered it. I trained in it at Quantico, and it doesn’t work on sado-serial crimes. There’s no way to predict the location of the next attack.”

“You know, I helped you out on that stock fraud mess,” Charlie began and I rolled my eyes at his obvious bid. “And the IRS extortion case.”

“Yeah. This is different.” Don objected finishing his tie and turning away from his brother “it’s not about numbers”

“Everything is numbers” Charlie stated and looked to me as Don grabbed his jacket. I shrugged beyond a couple theories there was nothing that I could see us being able to help with or at least not that I could with my limited knowledge. Uncle Charlie sighed and turned to the backyard something caught his eye and I watched as the gears turned in his head. “Don. Hey.” he turned quickly and went after his brother. “Um, can I show you something really quick?”

“No, Charlie I got to get-” Don attempted to argue but his rebellion was futile. As Charlie continued to pester and managed to draw him over to the window facing the backyard. I followed behind them curious to what the mathematician had come up with.

“Check this out.” Charlie gestured outside “you see the sprinkler, yeah?”

“Yeah I see the sprinkler” Don muttered clearly uninterested.

“You see the drops?”

“Yep. See the drops”

Then it clicked in my mind what he was thinking “Even using math there’s no practical way to predict where the next water drop will land” Charlie began his explanation and I walked closer. “There’s too many variables. However, say I couldn’t see the sprinkler. From the pattern of the drops, I could calculate its precise location.”

“The origin point” I voiced.

Charlie flashed me a proud grin then turned back to Don who seemed to slowly be getting the idea “it’s not about predicting the next site. It’s finding what the sites have in common. The point of origin” he nodded to me.

“Charlie, you’re saying you can tell us where the killer lives?” Don inquired.

“Yeah” the mathematician nodded.

“And I can help,” I added.

____________________________

“The movements of a serial perpetrator are defined by his needs. He watches potential victims. Avoiding detection, he’ll frequent public areas, parks, streets that don’t get a lot of traffic, waiting for moments of isolations.” Don explained pacing back and forth in the dining room. 

“Isolated areas, high probability of attacks.” Charlie murmured scribbling on the pad of paper in front of him. 

“Tv distracting you?” Alan inquired as he passed by the table from the kitchen. “I could turn it off” 

“No, it's fine, dad.” Don objected, he glanced over at me sitting in a chair in front of the tv and I quickly diverted my eyes as the brother’s continued to talk. 

Moments later Alan came over and sat down in the seat next to mine. I sighed and turned to my grandfather “This is so unfair I can help” 

“You’re a teenager Abby not an adult” Alan replied with his eyes on the tv. “Let them work” 

“I'm a teenager with a near genius IQ living with an overprotective jerk” I muttered. 

“I heard that” Don called from where he sat on the table. 

“Yeah well it’s a fact” I called over to him. 

“She is capable Don” Charlie agreed “and her help would be valuable”

“I said no I mean no. You’re just a kid. You don’t have clearance and I’m not letting you get involved in a criminal case” The agent put his foot down. “Now can you just listen to me for once?” 

“I listen I just don’t follow” I muttered scooting down in my chair. Alan shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. 

“I get the sense that this is about more than just you wanting to help on this case” the elder man inferred. I crossed my arms and tried to focus in on what Don and Charlie were saying. “This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with your birthday being this weekend.” 

“It’s not about that” I objected in a tone that was probably more snap than I intended. Sitting up I saw Don looking at me. I sighed, getting up and heading out to the backyard I couldn’t deal with this today. 

__________________

3rd POV. 

Don left Charlie to do his equations and settled to watch the baseball game with his father. “You going to go talk to her?” Alan inquired after a moment.

Don sighed glancing over to the back door Abby had stormed out of. “No she needs to cool off” 

“Still” the grandfather muttered. 

“Still what? She’s a teenager, you really want me getting her involved in a criminal case?” Don voiced. 

“No, no that’s not what I’m saying Don” Alan sighed “listen it’s her sixteenth birthday this weekend” 

“Yeah” Don muttered “I know I got her a present” 

Alan let off an annoyed breath “Donnie it’s her first birthday without her mother. It’s her first birthday with a father.” Don sighed and looked to the ground. “Have you even talked to her about Janice at all?” 

Don shifted in his seat “I don’t know dad she doesn’t want to talk what am I supposed to do?” 

“Donnie there’s a difference between not wanting to talk and not knowing how to,” Alan explained, “and unfortunately it’s a trait she seemed to have inherited from you.” 

___________________________

“Let’s go” Don ordered the gathered group of agents. Heading for his desk as they dispersed to get everything done. 

“Another day” Terry voiced over his shoulder he glanced back at her before refocusing on his files. “That means the case cuts into Abby’s birthday this weekend doesn’t it?”

“Yeah well she’s staying with my dad” Don muttered, closing the file and tossing it aside. 

“Are you at least going to call her or something?” Terry inquired.

“It’s too late now I will in the morning” the man replied, rising from his desk and heading off. 

Terry sighed watching him walk away. “Yeah if you remember” 

________________

Abby POV. 

White light filled my view, tires screeched, horns honked, a hand slammed into my chest, the crunch of metal, a scream. “Mom!” 

I startled awake sitting up on the couch. Thunder crashed outside. I removed the blinders from my eyes. “Abby are you alright” I turned as Alan came into the living room. “I heard you yell.” 

“Uh yeah” I replied as my heart rate slowed back down. “It was just a dream” 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” the man inquired further. However just then the door opened and in came Charlie. He looked like a drowned rat. “Aw Charlie don’t tell me you went biking out in this weather” 

“I had to go by my office” the man replied as he settled down at the table pulling the FBI case files out of his bag. He was obviously shaken by something. 

The front door opened again and in came Don. “Hey guys, what's up?” he asked, seeming deflated. “Charlie you’re soaked” 

“Yes I’m aware” the younger man replied. 

Don removed his jacket and went for the coffee in the kitchen as I wandered over to the dining room. Which seemed to be the place everyone was congregating. Our reflections shown in the darkened rain streaked windows. Don reappeared shortly after with a mug of coffee. He placed it on the table and began pacing the room. 

“I can’t get my head around it.” Charlie voiced after a moment. 

“What are we missing?” Don ran along the same thought “where’s the problem? And how do we make it work? We need to make it work” he stated the last part more forcefully. 

It was weird watching him work. The gears turning in his head. “We need to retest it. We need another run.” Charlie declared standing and going up to Don who was still pacing. 

“Well that’s not going to happen” the agent objected, turning to his younger brother. 

“Well, look I know that it’s gonna be hard for you to talk your boss into doing it again,” the mathematician tried “but we can’t stop after one attempt-” 

“Charlie” Don tried to interrupt however the professor continued to truck on. 

“New methods require repeated trials-” 

“Charlie, I’m not on the case anymore.” Don explained finally. “Okay?” 

“Why?” Charlie inquired. 

I sighed and watched the look exchanged between Alan and Don. “because my supervisor wanted fresh eyes on it.” I could tell he was lying. 

“Well, maybe the math is not the problem” Alan suggested suddenly. 

“What do you mean?” Charlie questioned. 

“Well, you just said that there was something you couldn’t get your head around,” Alan elaborated further “and I know for a fact that it can’t be the math.” 

“What else is there?” Charlie sighed. Then it clicked like it was obvious.

“The people” I voiced causing all of them to look at me like they had just realized my existence. “The math can only predict what people will do acting within certain parameters what if this guy acts outside of your preconceived notions of human behavior?” I offered. 

“Hey, maybe they’re right” Don nodded walking past me back to the window to point at the water spraying outside. “I mean, this sprinkler. That totally made sense. That you could track back from the location and find out where the guy lives. Right? Totally made sense.” he turned from his father and brother to look at me. “Maybe we’re thinking about this guy in too narrow a focus.” 

“Are you saying I need to consider more than his criminal activities?” Charlie seemed confused. 

“No not exactly” Don explained “I’m saying we maybe need to consider more than just where he lives. Like Abby said. You know look at me. If you designed an equation to find my origin, you wouldn’t get my apartment ‘cause I’m almost never there. My base would be my office.” 

I looked to Charlie as he meandered over toward the window the gears in his head spinning. The math forming in his mind. “Which means we use his home and his work as points of origin.” 

“Exactly” Don agreed. 

“I can design an equation to identify two hot zones.” Charlie muttered eyes still transfixed on the window. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he questioned, turning back to us. “Don… Dad… Abby.” he looked to us each individually. “That’s brilliant” 

It wasn’t long before the boys were packing it up and heading back to Don’s office. Both invigorated by the discovery. Once they were gone Alan turned to me. “You should get to bed, it’s late and tomorrow is a rather important day.”

I nodded slightly as he turned to head to the kitchen “Do you think he knows?” I voiced almost not meaning to. “Do you think Don remembers that it’s my birthday tomorrow?” 

Alan sighed looking back at me. “Abby, Don can get wrapped up in his work but uh, he’s never been one to forget what’s important.” I bit my lip and looked to the floor thinking. “Alright now up to bed” 

“Goodnight gramps” 

“Goodnight Abby” the man smiled at me as I headed for the stairs. 

I reached the room that had at one point been Don’s and collapsed on the bed. My world had been a lot smaller when it was just me and my mom. A lot scarier and a whole lot less normal but definitely smaller and less complicated. 

_________________________

I was startled awake again from the same dream, the same memory. I slowed my breaths and got up from the bed. Dawn had barely set in and light wasn’t very prevalent outside. I paced back and forth in the room. Thinking over everything before finally making a decision. 

I threw on some clothes, grabbed my backpack and headed out of the room. I crept through the house quietly as not to wake Gramps snoring down the hall. As I reached the front door I paused looking back at the house before ducking out and running. 

____________________

3rd POV.

Don sighed as he packed away the last couple files on his desk. The case was finally closed and he was exhausted. He glanced over and saw a small stack of books on his desk wrapped in a bow. He pulled it closer to him and looked at the card on them. To: Abby From: Terry. 

“Figured you could give it to her for me” the female agent spoke up causing Don to turn to her. 

“Yeah sure” he agreed. 

Terry gave him a smile. “Go home Don and celebrate your daughter’s birthday” she instructed him. 

Don nodded as she left. He sat there for a moment thinking about everything today meant. Sixteen years ago today he had become a father and he hadn’t even known it. Then a couple weeks ago he had been told and expected to start acting like a Dad. Don sure didn’t feel like a father. Anytime he talked to Abby it felt weird like he couldn’t find the words or she would just give him sarcasm. It was easier just not to talk at all. He had no idea what he was doing and she certainly didn’t seem to want him around. 

Don let off a breath and rose from his seat gathering up his things. Then his phone rang glancing at his caller ID he was surprised to see it was his father “hey dad what’s-”

“Abby’s missing” Alan interrupted. 

Don immediately felt like he couldn’t breath. His heart rate picked up and his lungs felt empty. “What?” 

“She’s missing. Gone.” Alan repeated he sounded scared himself “I went to wake her up this morning and she just wasn’t there” 

Every worse case scenario started shooting through Don’s mind. Where could she be? Could she be hurt? Kidnapped? Lost somewhere? Scared? He couldn’t think straight as fear coursed through his veins. 

“Alright call the cops put out an Amber alert” Don suggested “see- see if she’s with Charlie or something. I’ll try her cell and go look at- ah the library, the apartment. Places she might go” 

He was talking extremely fast he realized as the cop side of him battled with a side of him he’d never felt before. A kind of pure terror and concern that he couldn’t even begin to quantify as he grabbed his coat and bolted for the elevator hanging up on his father and speed dialing his daughter’s number. She didn’t answer. He tried again and again as he reached his car. This couldn’t be happening. Where was she?

___________________________

Don was driving away from the library as his phone rang. He answered it without even glancing at the caller ID hoping to hear his daughter’s voice on the other line. He was disappointed. 

“Don”

“Charlie I can’t talk right now. Abby is-” 

“I know Dad told me” Charlie informed “He also said she was upset-” 

“She’s always moody Charlie what are you saying?” Don snapped probably a little more harshly than he meant to. 

“I think I know where she is” Charlie spoke quickly as not to be cut off by his frantic older brother. 

________________

Don cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. After all his worrying and frantic searching why hadn’t he looked here first? As he pulled to a stop and got out of his truck he felt himself slow as relief washed over him. 

Sitting in the grass not too far off was Abby. She was staring at one of the various stones of the cemetery. Don sighed and walked over to her somberly. 

Nothing was said as he sat down next to her. He didn’t need to read the name of the stone to guess whose it was. Janice Calvin. His ex-girlfriend and Abby’s mother. 

“You know you scared everyone half to death” he finally stated after a moment. 

“Sorry” the girl replied, looking to her feet. “I should have left a note or something. I just wanted to be alone here for awhile.” 

“Yeah” Don let off a breath just relieved she was okay.

“It’s my sixteenth birthday” Abby muttered, turning back to the stone but still not looking at him. 

“I know I got you a present,” Don replied softly. 

“Mom and me had been planning my sweet sixteen before..” Abby trailed looking to the ground. “It was just going to be the two of us. We were going to cook and have a picnic in our apartment. We couldn't do much because you know we didn’t have a lot of money. But we were going to have each other.” 

“I’m so sorry Abby” Don told her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders hesitantly. “Your mother loved you” 

“I know she did I just- I just miss her” Abby sniffed and for the first time. Don saw his daughter cry. He felt a part of him inside falter. Like something had broken or shifted. 

“I miss her too.” Don explained. “Your mother was an incredible person. And my biggest regret was letting her go” 

“Do you think if she would have stayed- if she would have told you,” Abby questioned. “That things would have been different? That we would have..” The girl trailed but her question was clear. 

“I don’t know Abbs but” Don sighed and finally he understood what his own father had been trying to tell him all this time. “Abby I have no idea what I’m doing here. I’ve missed so much of your life to the point I- I didn’t even know what to get you for your birthday. I just-” he paused biting his lip. “I just feel like we’ve both been living with each other these last few weeks and not actually trying to have a relationship because it’s scary and complicated but Abby.” he sighed “today when dad called and told me you were missing.. I’ve never been more scared in my entire life.” Abby looked up at him as tears streaked down her face. “Now I know your mom loved you and Abby so do I alright?” 

“Alright” she managed but in the next second Abby wrapped her arms around Don’s middle as she broke into sobs. Don just held her in his arms holding back his own tears. 

__________________

Abby POV. 

It was late. After the cemetery Don had called and told everyone that I was safe. I felt bad putting them through all of that. I just hadn’t realized how many people would freak out had I gone missing. I was sitting at my desk in my own room reading one of the books Terry had gotten me quietly. 

There was a knock on my door. I paused in my reading and rose from my chair. Opening it I wasn’t exactly surprised to see my father standing outside. “What?” I inquired with minor annoyance at being disturbed. Though after everything that happened today I didn’t have much energy left to be annoyed. 

“Come on I’ve got a surprise for you” Don replied ignoring my sarcasm. 

“What?” I repeated exasperatedly curious for what this surprise could be. 

“Come on” Don scoffed, ushering me out of my room and toward the living room. I dragged my feet and had to practically be shoved out by my determined father. 

My irritated rebellion ended however as we exited the stairs. The coffee table had been moved and various colorful lights were hanging all around. In the center was a blanket laid out with something like a picnic setting. “Now I know it’s probably not exactly what you and your mom planned but..” Don sighed stepping around to look me in the face as I stared around in awe “Happy Birthday Abby” 

“Thanks D- Don” I replied. Stumbling on the name as the word Dad nearly slipped from my mouth. He smiled and we settled down on the blanket to eat. Talking and laughing and joking. It was a fun night and after all of it I was really happy to have my dad in my life. 

Chapter 2->

[blissfulalchemist]

“People who are okay don’t act like this” for CatRaf 😘

Thank you for the suggestion Jo! I did not use the last line unfortunately but I hope you enjoy this still.

TW: Mentions of Self Injury

There was an unease as Raf walked up to his house, with no hint of music playing despite it being a dinner party night. Opening the door his ears were met with the wailing of his two month old daughter and Catlina’s mumbling words of comfort as she walked around rocking their baby. His wife was disheveled, hair tossed into a bun, a way too big Marine Corp sweatshirt almost hiding the running shorts, and dark circles more prominent today under her eyes. He knew he should have postponed the dinner tonight the minute Nick asked for some extra help despite Raf being on paternity leave, Cat was a mess. Raf walked up lightly touching his wife’s upper arms as she mumbled more and more, her eyes wide as she looked down to Liz. “Here let me take over,” he whispered, sliding his hands underneath the baby. Cat held onto Liz tighter eyes meeting his, “Honey, let me,” he repeated a little firmer, bringing Liz to him when she released just the slightest. He looked around the room noticing the disarray of attempts to get Liz to stop crying on Cat’s end. 

“I’ve tried everything to get her to stop, Raf,” Cat pleaded, her hands pushing back the loose hair falling in her face, the sleeves of the sweatshirt falling down to the middle of her arms. Raf rocked and lightly patted Liz, eyes looking to the red lines on Cat’s inner arms, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’m doing something wrong and she’s gonna see and I-.” Her eyes focused on the room around her, pushing up the sleeves to her elbows, “And then here I go leaving the place looking like this,” she moved cleaning up the room quickly focusing on one spot before noticing another and jumping to that one. 

She mumbled to herself, Liz quieting in Raf’s arms as he watched his wife bounce around the living area, “Who’s gonna see, Conejito? You know Wren doesn’t mind the house being a little messy.”

“You do though. And Wren should. Your mom does,” Cat paused looking ahead of her eyes unfocused, “Oh no,” she looked meeting Raf’s eyes, “Your mom is going to think I’m not good enough that I can’t handle this that I’m not good enough that you have to leave me that you have to find someone better find someone more capable than me. Oh no. Raf I’m trying I’m so sorry,” she rambled on, more and more apologies spouted out. 

Liz finally fell back asleep, Raf kissing the top of her head as he made his way to the crib, “Conejito, let’s take a step back for a second.” Cat looked at him confused, eyes fixated on Liz as he set her down gently in the crib, Raf smiling before facing Cat again. He cupped her face, her hands holding onto his wrists, “What happened?”

Cat searched his eyes, “I was getting ready to start cooking and then Liz well she started crying and I did everything to try and comfort her, I had just woken from a nap too, but she wouldn’t stop and so I kept going and going. Then I realized I had to clean still and then you came home and I wanted to have everything done by the time you came home but I couldn’t and I’m sorry.”

“Cat,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, eyes going wide again, “Nothing everything’s fine. It’s all okay. Why would you think otherwise? Can’t you see Liz is okay and I’m okay. Just a little out there I did wake up in the middle of a nap.”

He shook his head, hands grabbing onto her hands, “Honey, you’re not okay,” she opened her mouth to protest Raf cutting her off, “I know something is because people who are okay don’t act like this.” He ran a thumb over the cuts scabbing over, “They don’t rely on old habits if they are doing okay. They don’t ramble like you’re doing now, having their brain scattered to all points of the world,” he ran a hand lightly down her jawline, “and you especially don’t worry about perfection when it comes to cleaning,” he gave a small smile Cat’s expression not moving from worry. He let out a sigh when Cat didn’t respond, “I’m gonna call everyone and move the dinner to tomorrow so you can get some sleep.”

“No!” She stepped back shaking her head furiously, “No you can’t do that. Oh no I-. Oh fuck I forgot,” she groaned. Her nails running through her hair, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Cat,” Raf held her hands trying to keep eye contact with Cat as she looked around, “Cat, look at me. Look at me.” The more she moved around the more frustrating it was for him, especially as she kept mumbling and rambling on about things he didn’t have the context for. He frowned, bringing her hands together, palm to palm. He took a second bringing his hands away before slamming them against hers, his hands stinging watching Cat wince. “Now listen to me, Conejito,” he tilted her chin up to look him in the eye, the far away look gone, “I know you’ve been looking forward to this night but you’re not well. I refuse to bring people over until we figure out what’s wrong.”

“I’m a new mom that’s feeling a little stressed,” she justified, the slight look she gave to her phone noticeable to Raf. 

“That’s not everything,” he glanced at her phone brow furrowed, “Tell me exactly what happened, Cat. I need to know or I can’t help you.”

Cat hesitated thoughts running a million miles an hour trying to put together everything that was happening, happened, going to happen. She let out a slow breath, “My mom called me.” Raf blinked, “I didn’t answer her, I’m not just gonna just pick up the phone for her, and I was sleeping a little anyway, so I couldn’t hear the phone anyway and-.”

Raf snapped his fingers in front of her face, “Focus, Conejito. Your mom called and you didn’t pick up.”

“Right,” she shook her head, “She left a voicemail saying she was wanting to see Liz. So she made a trip to come out here. Didn’t leave much room for arguing. I haven’t even spoken to her in….How long has it been again? Not that it matters but still it seems-.”

“Cat,” she looked at him, mouth shutting quickly, “when is your mom coming here?”

“Oh. Today.”

His eyes went wide, “Today,” Cat nodded, moving from his hands back to cleaning. “What do you mean today?”

“She called me saying she was driving up and that she was in Bozeman,” she stood up, tilting her head, “I think. I may have gotten it wrong. I don’t know, her voicemail is still on the phone.” 

“I assume you didn’t know about this,” he ran a hand down his face, picking up her phone looking at the time the voicemail came in, “So she’s about two hours away now?”

“Maybe closer,” Cat muttered, “She can be a crazy driver, especially with open roads like these.” Cat perked up, “Oh, you think maybe we can get Wes to arrest her and deport her back to Colorado?”

“That,” Raf shook his head pinching the bridge of his nose, “That’s not how that works. Besides he’s also on paternity leave too.”

“Oh yeah,” Cat looked down sadly to the task she was currently focusing on, it was no wonder she couldn’t get Liz to sleep, she was wound up tighter than she had been in recent weeks. “I know you don’t want anyone over but maybe we do smaller and have just Wes ‘n Wren over, maybe Bambi?” He was about to interject in her thoughts, Cat filling in the gap in her plans, “No, wait, she’s in Bozeman now. Why did they have to go there? I need them here. But okay but B Squared can still come by right?” She looked at Raf with pleading eyes, “Please? I feel like I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen either of them.” 

We saw Wes just last week, Raf wanted to remind her, “Cat if your mom is going to be here, do you really think it’s a good idea to have her and Wren in the same room?”

“You’re right,” Raf held his breath waiting for the second half of the sentence, “It’s the perfect idea.” Cat dropped the plastic shopping bag full of trash, gasping, “Raf! We have a dinner party tonight! I didn’t plan on her being there!”

She started her mumbling and tangents, Raf grabbing hold of her shoulders, “No we’re not having a dinner party tonight. You are going upstairs to sleep.”

“But Liz,” Cat protested trying to turn back to the living room, “what if she wakes up and needs me? I need to be there. I’m fine. I have enough sleep.”

“When was the last time you got at least three hours of sleep?” Cat opened and closed her mouth, wanting to have an answer and then thinking better of it. “Exactly,” Raf pushed her towards the stairs, “Now you go upstairs and sleep. I've got Liz taken care of and the house.”

“But Raf I need to keep an eye on Liz. How can I sleep when she’s all the way downstairs? At least let me sleep on the couch, Raf.”

He shook his head, “No. You’re gonna sleep in bed. I’ll leave the new video monitor and radio monitor on the bedside table so you can wake up and see that she’s okay.” Cat nodded along, twisting the tips of her fingers. “I’ll wake you just before she gets here okay,” Raf assured her. 

Cat spun to face him, “No. Last time you did that you lied to me. I can’t have you doing that again. If I’m seen as sleeping when she comes by she can use that against me. She could have Liz taken from me. Say I’m a bad mom, use your career against you, she could have Liz and make her be whoever she wants her to be.”

“Mi amor, please, you have to know how irrational that sounds,” Raf opened the door to their room, “That is not why your mom just decided to come by. The most likely answer is that she wants to see her granddaughter.”

“I don’t want her too, Raf,” Cat’s eyelids started to feel heavy as he sat her on the bed, “Liz doesn’t deserve someone like that in her life. She deserves to feel loved and accepted by everyone in her life. If she wasn’t in the picture then I’d humor the idea, but not Liz, I can’t risk Liz like this.”

“I know,” Raf said softly, placing the blankets and comforter over her, “Which is why we’ll figure out the next step once you get a little more sleep. Does that sound fair?” Cat nodded, eyes following his hands as he set up the monitors, Liz clear as day on the video sleeping soundly. Raf kissed her forehead, “You get some sleep, Conejito. I’ll check on you in a little bit.” Raf left the room after that, making his way back down to Liz smiling as he met her dark eyes, “Hey,” he whispered, grabbing one of the speakers placing it near the radio monitor, “Why don’t you and I keep mom asleep playing some Monteverdi, yeah?” She cooed, smiling and moving her hands up towards him as the music started, “Is he your favorite too, huh?” Raf slipped the carrier on, lifting Liz into it, “Come on, let’s you and I make some phone calls. Get your mom feeling better,” Liz reached, getting her small fingers caught in his hair in response, “You’re right, mija, let’s call grandma and grandpa first.”

 Cat opened her eyes slowly, the vibrating on the nightstand hitting her ears, as she reached blindly for it, the phone falling to the floor. Cat sat up, rubbing her eyes free of the sleep, heart racing, eyes going to the monitor on her right, seeing Raf on the couch with Liz. Cat took a deep breath putting everything before she slept together. She wanted to sleep more but the thought that her mom was already somewhere in the house, seeing as it was now six in the evening. Cat pulled back the sleeves of the sweatshirt looking to the uniformed cuts, tears welling up in her eyes. It had been years since she last did anything like this, now here she was back at square one, some mother she was.

Cat’s phone rang again, she wiped away the tears as she reached for it, the caller ID showing it was Wren. Cat let out a shaky breath before answering, “Hey Wren.”

“Finally! I was worried about you,” Wren sounded relieved, as if she had been holding her breath, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay,” Cat responded, bringing her knees up to her chest, “Just a bit tired is all.” 

“That’s what Raf said but,” Wren paused, “Pairing that with how you looked when Wes saw you last week, I can’t help but feel like there’s something more.” Cat stayed silent, “Cat,” Wren pressed, “You know you can tell me anything. I just want to help you like you’d help me. It’s what sisters do, remember?”

She rested her chin on her knees, “I know. I just-,” Just lost my mind, fell back on old habits because I help but feel like everything is wrong. Something is going to go wrong. Oh and on top of that my mom somehow got our address and is now here at our house and I know she’s going to do something to screw up our lives, “I was doing okay but my….mom….she’s here.”

The line went quiet a moment, “She’s what now?” Cat nodded as Wren continued, “No. Nope. I’m going over there right now!” Cat could hear the sounds of Wren getting up to move on the other end, “It’s been what a year, year and a half since you last spoke to her and now all of a sudden she just wants back into your life? No way am I going to let that woman worm her way back into it.” Wren grumbled lowly, whatever she was saying was lost on Cat’s ears, “Wes! Where are the keys?” 

“Wren,” Cat said softly, laughing as Wren argued with Wes that she needed the keys, “Wren stop.” The moving stopped, Wren’s breathing the only thing Cat could hear, “Thank you for your offer, but that’s not the best idea right now. I-,” I don’t want her to get to you, have her make you hate me, “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.”

“I can take care of her for you Cat,” Cat let out a small laugh, “You think I’m joking but I’m with a cop, he can help me get away with it.”

“I know,” Cat let out a sigh, “Let me just figure it out with Raf first and if you are needed I will call you okay?”

“Fine,” Wren conceded, “Just-. Cat just remember you don’t have to entertain her. You have every right to just tell her to fuck off again. And if you can’t do it then I can do it for you. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

“Thank you Wren. Best case is she’s only staying for a short while and then I don’t ever have to see her again,” Cat sighed, “Until then we’re going to postpone any get together we may have wanted to have.” 

“Well I’m not going anywhere so that’s okay,” Wren assured, “But call me and keep me in the loop alright?” 

“I will.” Cat hung up after that, hands shaking, stomach feeling sick. Her mom was possibly downstairs and Cat was nothing short of a disaster, but she had to make sure Raf didn’t fall to her influence. Her legs shook, Cat gripping onto the railing as she made her way down to the living room, music of the baroque era still playing. Her eyes finally landed on Raf, who was just finishing feeding their daughter and humming, looking around for any sign on her mother lurking in the house.

“She’s not here,” Raf said, looking up at Cat, “She’s with my parents.”

Cat’s eyes went wide, “She is,” her pitch going up an octave, “Why? That’s a bad idea Raf,” She could make your parents hate me. It might be too late.

He shook his head, “We needed to talk first,” he moved over on the couch, rearranging Liz in his arms, patting her back, “Sit.” Cat bit her lip as she moved to sit next to him, pushing back a few strands of hair, “We’re going to have dinner with your mom, my parents are going to be there to help us through it. You can decide how far you want to go with it. If it’s too much we can stop it early.” Cat nodded, it seemed fair enough, “Do you want her staying here if you think you can handle it?”

Cat shook her head, “No not really but where else is she going to go? I doubt she has money for an inn or something like that,” Cat ran the numbers in her head, there was no way she was wanting to indulge in paying for her mother to stay there either, “I know for a fact that I don’t want her staying with your parents.”

Raf nodded, “They offered to help in paying for her lodging already, figured you wouldn’t want your mom anywhere near them to begin with.”

She looked to the ground, “I don’t want to put that on them though, they’ve done enough for me as it is.”

Raf chuckled, shaking his head, handing a sleeping Liz to Cat, “They offered before I could say anything.” He ran a thumb over her cheek gently, “They love you and they know how complicated it can get with your mom. They want to make sure that you’re taken care of, Conejito.” Cat shifted, kissing Liz on the top of her head, her mind and body calming with her in her arms, “I know it feels weird for you still but you just have to trust it when they say they love and care about you.” 

“Don’t get your hopes up with my mom finding a way to twist everything around,” she shook her head slowly, “I should probably call my therapist, shouldn’t I?”

“I already did,” Cat looked to Raf taken aback, “I called your doctor too.”

“Why?” Her heart started to race, holding Liz tighter to her, “That wasn’t necessary Raf. You can’t just do that.”

“It is though,” he looked to her with sympathy, “I know you want to reduce any risk of harm to Liz and have the same experiences as other moms, but, Cat you can’t be like other moms,” she felt the tears start to run down her face, Raf wiping them away, “and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. I know you thought that you could do this, but even the doctor said it was possible for things to change once you had Liz and they have.” 

Cat shook her head, “No, I can do this. I have to be able to do this. Wren worries too and no one is telling her that she’s being irrational.”

“It’s not normal, Cat. We all know where Wren’s worry stems from and she’s getting help in the way that she needs best and that’s not what you need,” Raf reasoned, “You need more help. You need to get back on the medication you had before we had Liz, it was the best thing for you.”

 “How do you know that?”

“Because you weren’t having to resort to cutting to try and sleep.”

“It’s just this one time,” she lied, “It won’t happen again.”

“One time is too much,” Raf put his arms around her, kissing her temple, “I’d rather you get ahead of this now before we have to go to more extreme measures. We have so many resources to make it easier on you so that you can be the best mom that I know you can be.” He helped to cradle Liz, “I know you want that for her more than anything.” Cat nodded, burying her tear stained face into Raf’s shoulder, “Then we go to the doctor tomorrow so that we can help you get to that place.” Cat couldn’t help but start crying the tears coming so easily, Raf holding her closer rocking the two of them, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” he kissed the top of her head, “I’ll always be there for you, always here for you.” 

The two of them sat for another fifteen minutes, before Cat caught sight of the clock, sniffling she asked, “What time is dinner at?”

Raf looked up to the clock, exhaling through his nose, “Soon,” he took LIz placing her in the crib, “You need to get ready. I already have the food taken care of.” Cat nodded, quickly making her way up the stairs to get showered and dressed, trying to get her nerves to calm down the entire time. Raf’s parents and Cat’s mom were just walking through the door by the time Cat came down in a sweater and some jeans. 

Cat walked to Raf’s parents first embracing them in a hug first before she dared to look at her mom. “Catlina,” she held her arms out to her daughter, “It’s been a long time.”

“A year and a half,” Cat said, giving her mom a side hug, skin crawling, “and here you go surprising me.”

“Seemed more rude that you not tell me that my grandbaby was born,” she gave Cat a smile, “Where is she? Rafael pushed me onto his parents so quickly that, well, I just didn’t have time to see them.”

“Gina,” Raf said, stepping in front of the crib, “can I get you something to drink first before dinner?”

“No need to address me like that Rafael, I’ve told you before that you can call me mom,” Cat narrowed her eyes, biting her tongue.

“Gina, please, let’s get through dinner first,” Raf gestured to the table.

“Everything’s so formal with you,” Gina laughed, patting Raf’s shoulder as if it was a normal affair for the two of them.

Raf’s mom put an arm around Cat’s shoulders, whispering in her ear, “Lina, does she always try to put on a show?” Cat nodded, glancing in the crib, Liz still sleeping peacefully.

“Do we have to listen to this, Cat honey,” Gina looked at her, “It just sounds so depressing.”

“I quite like it,” Cat gave her a smile.

“You never liked opera before,” Gina gave a shrug, “that’s all. Bet that’s all Rafael let’s you listen to,” she laughed to herself, Cat hugging herself.

Raf shot Gina a glare behind her back, a thin smile returning as she turned to watch him place a roast on the table, “It helps Liz sleep more peacefully, but more than that dinner is ready.” 

Everyone took a seat at the smaller round table, plates made before a quick prayer was said. “Did you finally commit to a religion, Catlina,” Gina commented while the two women finished making the sign of the cross, “Went back to your roots. Surely it helped you out my dear,” she took a bite of her food, Cat pushing hers around, “I always said all you needed was a little faith. Guess I can thank you for having her find it, Rafael.” 

“Cat never committed to a religion, Gina,” Raf’s mom interjected, “she has her views and we respect that much like she respects ours.”

“You didn’t have to live with her and how,” Gina paused, searching for the right word, “well, over dramatic she could be.”

“Is that how you still refer to my depression and anxiety still?” Cat asked, jaw clenching.

Gina gave a small eye roll, “You know all that stuff is just made up in your head. Doctors use it to sell more medication to those that have no faith or something to fall back on.” Cat scoffed, her mom looking at her in full, “You don’t seem like yourself tonight, honey,” she observed, eyes landing on the few cuts peeking out from under the sleeve of her sweater. Gina took a sip of her drink, “Seems like you’ve gotten to that state again. You know I warned you that being a mom was hard, even offered my help that you rejected.”

“How did you even get my address mom? It’s not like we’ve spoken very recently.”

“Your sisters,” Gina mused, “They asked if I wanted to send something to you for the baby and I stumbled across it.”

“So you stole it,” Cat sighed, “Typical.”

“I’m your mother,” Gina said, her eyes narrowing as they looked at Cat, “I have a right to see my grandchild. I don’t think you understand how much it hurt me to not be a part of your pregnancy, while everyone else got to be.”

“That was her decision to make,” Raf’s father said, his mom nodding, “By my understanding you hurt her first.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if your son did that to you. Or are you just trying to keep me from having a relationship with my child?” Gina turned to Cat, placing her hand over hers, “Catlina what happened? We used to be so close, we were fixing our relationship and then you just cut me off again.” 

Cat removed her hand, “I think it best you see Liz once and then wait for me to make contact again.”

“Catlina, that’s unfair. Don’t give into what he wants just because he’s your husband. I just want to help you, like a mom should be doing.”

Cat’s hands balled into fists, “Are you going to apologize?”

“For what?”

“You know what. Apologize for hurting me.”

“I think you owe me one at this point,” Gina’s voice going cold, “You’ve hurt me more at this point than however much you claim I’ve harmed you.”

“You don’t get to decide when you hurt me,” Cat shook her head, “All you had to do was be there for me but since you didn’t do that, all you had to do was apologize and we could have worked to repair our relationship.”

“I did nothing wrong. When will you accept that?”

“You did though, Gina,” Raf said, “and you’re continuing to do so by trying to make your way back into Cat’s life after she told you to stay out of it. I won’t stand for the breach in boundaries that you’ve just done by showing up out of the blue.”

“Then why invite me into your home, Rafael,” Gina asked, venom on her tongue, “Seems counterproductive.”

“I knew Cat would give you some benefit of doubt and as she told you earlier you get to have this one opportunity to see Liz, which is more than generous in my eyes.” Cat watched Gina’s hands as Raf continued, “I won’t stand for my own children to be hurt and disappointed by someone that has been in and out of their mom’s life to a point where they no longer feel cared and loved by them. Cat and her children deserve to have people that are stable and love them unconditionally in their lives, so sad to say there’s no room for people like you in their lives anymore.”

Gina turned back to Cat, “So you’re just going to hurt your sisters the rest of their lives?” Cat stiffened, “I don’t think you see or understand how much it hurts them that we all can’t be in the same room anymore because of you. Or when we’re at family events, how you avoid them because they choose to accept me as I am.”

“Everyone here knows how much of a lie that is, Gina,” Cat saw Gina’s hands turn into fists as she looked to Raf with daggers, “Stop trying to keep up some facade, no one here believes it.”

“Shut your damn controlling mouth,” Gina stood hand raised, Cat following her, grabbing onto her wrist, Gina’s eyes going wide. “You’re just going to let him speak to me like that? After everything I’ve done for you?”

“You need to leave,” Cat said calmly, pulling her mom to the door, “I don’t care where you go or where you stay, but you’re no longer welcome here.” Cat grabbed the bag, shoving it in Gina’s arms, opening up the door, “You take one step onto our house ever again, I will have you arrested for trespassing. Better yet I better not see you in this county ever again. The only times I should be seeing you is when there’s family events where it's inevitable and even then you’re not allowed to speak to me, Raf, or my children. You want to know anything about your grandkids you better ask my sisters because that’s all the information you’re going to get about them.” Cat gave her a small shove out the door, “Liz and any other kids we have will never have contact with you, so don’t even bother with things like cards for birthdays and holidays.”

“Cat, please,” Gina pleaded with her, “Don’t do this. Please you need me, trust me on that.”

Cat shook her head, “I think you have it wrong. You’re the one that needs someone to control and it’s no longer going to be me. Since it seems like I wasn’t clear enough last time I leave you with this: I no longer want you in my life, I do not want to ever hear from you again. I want you gone and I want you to stay gone.” With that Cat slammed the door on her now crying mother, her heart pulling to comfort her, choosing instead to stalk off to her phone, dialing one of the people she knew would help her with this. He picked up on the first ring, “Wes.”

“Catnip,” he responded, “Things get worse?”

“I wasn’t clear enough last time,” Cat said, starting to slowly pace around the living area, “So can you let the police department know that Gina Rojas is not allowed anywhere near my house, and should be highly encouraged to go back home to Colorado. It would be really helpful.”

Wes snickered, “You got it. Should I put Wren on the manhunt?”

“No, that won’t be necessary at this time,” Cat exhaled slowly, “Thank you Wes.” Cat turned to the Estrada family, “I made the right decision didn’t I?” 

“Do you feel like it was the right one,” Raf’s mom said softly, moving to hold Cat’s face in her hands, “Because that’s what’s most important when it’s all said and done, my dear.”

“I want to say yes,” Cat looked down, “If not for me than those that I love.”

“That’s okay for you to not know if it’s right for you,” she told Cat smoothing her daughter’s hair, “You have Liz to think about now and if it feels like the right decision for her, then it’s the right decision, Lina.”

“And Raf,” Cat said, catching his eyes, “It’s the right decision for him too.”

“One day,” Raf said, “it may feel like the right decision, until then,” he took his mom’s place, holding onto Cat’s hands, looking into her brown eyes, “I’ll be right here supporting you.” He kissed her, leaning his forehead against hers, “Though you should know that I will also still do anything I can to protect you, because sometimes you need that from me.”

Cat gave a small smile, “I’d expect nothing less from you, mi vida.”

[alix-writes-things]

Ember’s Story Chapter Two: Deflated Laughter

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Nox says.

We’re in the library, and they’re still absolutely stunned by what they said to that jerk from the football team. We had spent the last ten minutes in complete silence while we all tried to wrap our heads around what just happened. They seem to give up on trying to understand what caused them to speak up like that, and they start looking around the room.

There’s nothing special about the room other than the five fire extinguishers all within reach and the small, purple bookshelf in the corner filled with special-ordered, fire-proof books. The small, light-blue-painted room is only about six feet across and seven feet wide. It used to be a normal study room, but I petitioned to be allowed in the library before the start of my freshman year. I was allowed in on the condition I stayed in this room and only read the fire-proof books the librarian, Mrs. Pace, orders for me. I’m not complaining though. I convinced Mrs. Pace to let me put a mini fridge in here on the condition I stock it myself.

“Wow,” Nox says, “for someone who is treated like a literal wildfire, you have it pretty good.”

“Yeah,” Everett says, “they bribed Mrs. Pace to let them have whatever they want in here.”

“No,” I say, glaring at him, “I did not. I asked politely and agreed to stock the fridge with my own money. Anyways, isn’t there a certain boy you’re supposed to be meeting up with?”

“Oh,” Nox says, “there’s a boy involved.”

“I hate you both.”

“Love you, too,” I say, smirking.

Nox chuckles softly at us. Everett shoots them a look, and they stop for a moment before bursting out laughing. I can’t help but join them.

“Whatever,” Everett says, “I’m leaving.”

“Okay,” I choke out, “have fun with your boyfriend.”

Everett glares at us while Nox and I laugh even harder. He leaves quickly, and Nox and I spend about five minutes trying to catch our breath. We finally calm down enough to look at each other without laughing again.

“So,” they say, “he has a boyfriend?”

“No,” I say, “he has a huge crush on this guy from his history class. They’re hanging out this morning so Everett can help him ‘study’ for his exam this afternoon.”

“Why the quotation marks?”

“We both know there’s going to be more flirting than studying.”

This seems to amuse them. They start laughing again which causes me to start laughing, too. Mrs. Pace walks in to see us laughing at seemingly nothing.

“What’s so funny, you two?” she asks us.

“Everett,” I reply, gasping for air, “has a ‘study’ date.”

This seems to amuse her as well because she lets out a small chuckle.

“Alright,” she says, “I’ll leave you two alone. I just came in to let you know, Ember, that the book I ordered for you will be in in about a week.”

“Awesome,” I reply, “Thank you so much, Mrs. Pace.”

She leaves, and Nox turns to me.

“What’s the book?” they ask.

“It’s about this non-binary kid trying to get through their second semester of their senior year after they transferred because they got kicked out of their parents’ house. They had to move in with their older sister who…,” I trail off, suddenly conscious of how much I’ve been talking.

“Wait, why did you stop?” Nox looks at me with something between concern and confusion.

“Oh, sorry,” I say sheepishly.

I continue telling them about the book while they listen eagerly. We spend the next few hours talking about books, movies, and music. We’re talking about our favorite bands when Everett walks in with an odd look in his eyes and the corners of his mouth upturned.

“I take it your little study date went well,” I say, smirking.

“Hush! I’m trying to relive it,” he says, smiling lazily.

Nox and I look at each other and immediately burst out laughing again.

“Oh, my goodness!” they choke out, “I haven’t laughed so much in years!”

“Will you two stop it? I’m trying to be happy here!”

Everett proceeds to spend the next ten minutes attempting to quiet me and Nox, but he only succeeds in making us laugh harder. We finally calm down enough for Everett to tell us what happened with him and his crush, Isaac.

“He totally flirted with me,” he says confidently.

“Everett,” I say, rolling my eyes, “we get it. Your boyfriend likes you. That makes a grand total of one person who likes you.”

“Rude,” he says, glaring.

“Okay,” Nox says, stifling laughter, “tell us about this boy.”

Everett spends about fifteen minutes telling us everything he can about Isaac, the time they spent together, and all the compliments Isaac gave him. By the end of his tangent, he’s smiling even wider than before and has a faraway look in his eyes. Nox gives me a knowing look. I can tell we’re both thinking the same thing: he’s lovestruck. I sigh and turn to Everett.

“Things seem to be going really we-,”

I’m interrupted by Ethan, the football jerk from this morning, passing by the window that looks out to the hall and yelling

“Freaks!”

I look over to see Nox has tears trailing down their face.

“Just ignore him,” I tell them, but they’re already shaking.

It breaks my heart seeing them so upset, but I can’t do much to calm them down as I’m currently holding back tears of my own. I can hear Everett breathing heavily out of anger. I go stand by the door in case he decides to try to go after Ethan. We sit in silence for a few minutes before Nox decides to speak up.

“Can he really not come up with a more creative insult?”

This instantly lifts everyone’s moods.

“I know, right?” I say, “That’s probably the tenth time he’s called me that in a week!”

“I knew he wasn’t exactly smart,” Everett says, “but I never realized he was too dumb to come up with a more creative insult.”

We start a discussion on the hundreds of infinitely more creative insults a person could come up with; my favorites being “death toll” and “flint and steel”. Realizing it’s now nearly 1:00 p.m., and we have yet to have lunch, I ask the other two what they want to do about lunch.

“I’m down for anything,” Everett says.

“Yeah, same,” Nox says.

“Okay,” I say, “how about we walk down the street to the shopping center and see what we can find there?”

They both agree, and we start walking down the street. The shopping center is only a ten-minute walk from the school, so, hopefully, we’ll have plenty of time to get our food and get back to school before lunch is over depending on where we choose to eat

“How about the steakhouse?” Everett asks.

“Sorry,” Nox says, “I can’t. I’m vegetarian.”

“Me, too.” I glare at Everett “Everett knows that.”

“Worth a shot,” he says knowing full well that it was not “worth a shot.”

“Oh!” Nox says, “I know the perfect place.”

They start leading us to the far end of the shopping center and, after about five minutes, they stop in front of a restaurant I’ve never noticed before. The sign reads “The Life of Pie” with a picture of a pizza where the “o” should be.

“It’s a make-your-own-pizza restaurant!” they say excitedly, “Since none of us have exams today, we don’t have to worry about time.”

Everett walks to the door, but I’m too distracted by how cute Nox is. I’ve only seen them get excited about something a few times, and each time I’m absolutely transfixed.

“Earth to Ember,” Everett says.

I look over to him, and he starts laughing at me. My face starts heating up, and I turn away, embarrassed. I can hear Nox and Everett laughing behind me.

“Oh, shut up,” I tell them.

“Alright,” I hear Nox say, “We’re sorry.”

“I’m not,” Everett says, still laughing.

I hear a small thwack and someone yelp. I turn back around to see Everett bent over slightly and clutching his stomach. I start laughing when I realize that high-pitched yelp came from him.

“It’s not funny,” he says, groaning.

“That’s what you get for being mean,” Nox says.

“Okay,” I say once Everett is able to stand up straight, “Let’s go in. I’m starving.”

The restaurant is small and quiet. The dining area only has five or six tables, and there’s only one person behind the counter at what a sign depicts as the Creation Station. The floors are black-and-white checkerboard tiles, and the red walls are covered in posters and advertisements. We walk up to the Creation Station and decide to order one pizza split into thirds so we each get what we want.

Everett orders ham and pineapple which causes Nox to tell him how much they now detest him. Nox orders mushrooms, tomatoes, and black olives to which Everett loudly proclaims how they have a horrible taste in pizza. I order spinach, tomatoes, and mozzarella slices. Nox and Everett seem to agree that I have the worst taste in pizza.

We sit at a table near one of the large storefront windows while we wait. At first, we sit in an awkward silence because no one really knows what to say. Eventually, Everett brings up the subject of exams, so we start talking about our schedules for the week. As it turns out, Nox and I have nearly identical schedules due large in part to us having five classes together. Everett, who I only share two classes with, has a similar schedule to ours other than an exam on Friday morning whereas we get Friday off because our Chemistry teacher gave us a lab that we did in class last Wednesday as our final. Everett starts complaining about how he’s positive he’s going to fail his History exam, but he’s cut off by the waiter bringing out our pizza. We thank them and start reaching for the pizza as they walk off when they stop and turn to back us.

“I’m so stupid,” they say in a thick southern accent, “I completely forgot to ask for y’alls drink orders. What would y’all like?”

“It’s alright,” I say, “I’d like a Coke please.”

“Can I have a lemonade?” Nox asks.

“Sweet tea, please,” Everett says.

“I’ll have those out in just a minute,” the waiter says, “Again, I am so sorry for forgetting.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Everett says, “It was a minor mistake.”

The waiter smiles at him and hurries off to the kitchen to get our drinks.

“Poor kid,” Everett says, “I feel bad for them. That’s Letha. They’re in my Chemistry class, and they’ve been super stressed out about their exams. Their parents are strict about grades, and if they don’t get straight A’s on their exams, they’re not allowed to go to this science camp they’ve been looking forward to.”

“Sounds like my parents,” I say empathetically.

“Really?” Nox asks, “You seem so unconcerned by the exams.”

“Ha,” Everett says, “when we get back to the library, look at the books on top of the bookshelf. They’re all textbooks they’ve annotated to study with.”

“Oh, hush,” I say, “Nox is right. I’m not all that concerned about the exams. There isn’t much my parents can do. They pretty much gave up on me in 8th grade.”

Our conversation is cut short by Letha bringing out our drinks and apologizing again for forgetting. We eat our food in silence until it’s time to pay. Everett and Nox both offer to pay, but I grab the bill before either of them can. I wait for the usual intake of breath that comes every time I grab a piece of paper, but it never happens. I sign it quickly, leaving a 25% tip because I get the feeling Letha doesn’t make much working here, and hand it back along with my credit card. When Letha comes back with my card, we tell them goodbye and start heading back to the school.

Everett starts making jokes about how I nearly burned the whole building down by grabbing a small piece of paper. Nox joins in, and soon, they’re both making fun of me. At some point, it turns into all of us making fun of each other. We walk into the school laughing at a joke Nox made about Everett’s crush on Isaac. We’re interrupted by Ethan once again trying to make us miserable. This time, however, he seems to be targeting all three of us.

“Faggots!” he yells at us.

This time, no one says anything. We just walk back to the library with silent tears rolling down our faces.

[a-closet-emo]

Phanniemay 2019 Day 5: Second Gen

Word Count: 2423

Genre: Angst

Warning: slight mentions of dissection but nothing graphic.

A/N: Ok so I know that Phanniemay is over and this phic is long overdue. But, I just want to finish the prompts, no matter how long it takes. So here is probably the longest thing I’ve ever written. Sorry it took me so long. I know it isn’t much, but I’m working on getting better at this kind of thing.

Maddie woke to the sound of cement cracking and a bad pun. That could only mean one thing: a ghost fight that involved Phantom. Again.

She looked at the clock. 3:05 am. Maddie sighed. Of course, since ghosts don’t sleep they’ll fight at any time they want to. She stole a glance at Jack. The big figure next to her was sleeping soundly, snoring through all the chaotic noises and witty banter outside. She pecked him on the cheek.

“Sweetie, what’s the commotion? Are the ghosts trying to steal my fudge?” he murmured, still only half awake.

“No, Jack, just some cats fighting in the street. I’m just going to get some water. Don’t—“

She was interrupted by his loud snores.

She smiled in the dark.

She quietly got out of bed, quickly putting on her HAZMAT suit. Her husband was sweet and he meant well, but he wasn’t exactly stealthy. And the orange suit certainly did not help. If she moved fast enough, Maddie could get to the fight in time to possibly capture the ghosts.

Maddie tiptoed past Jazz’s and Danny’s rooms. She was rather surprised that Jazz was still asleep. Her daughter had been getting quite good at ghost hunting as of late. But this was for the better. No need to wake them up and alarm them.

Despite her recent interest in the family business, Jazz was still a psychologist. She would be mad at Maddie for bothering with ghosts at this hour. She would go on a tangent about how ghosts took up too much of their time and how she and jack,”Have an obsession, just as much as the ghosts do!” Maddie shook her head. Jazz may be smart as a whip, but ghosts were Maddie’s field of expertise.

Danny…...Maddie didn’t know exactly how he’d react. The boy seemed to be so afraid of ghosts nowadays. Which was so unlike him. Then again, he’d been so distant lately, Maddie wasn’t so sure what was “like him” anymore. She sighed. She worried about her son. A lot. But it’s not like she could force him into telling her what’s been going on. She didn’t need Jazz to know that that was a very bad idea. So all she could do was wait, and hope that soon he’d start talking to her again.

In the basement, she decided to take the Fenton Finder™️, the Fenton Hand Blaster™️, and the Jack o’ Nine Tails™️. All patented and licensed as per the regulations of that year.

All stocked up, she went out into the night.

~~~

When Maddie had left her house some minutes earlier, the neighbors hadn’t made too much of a fuss over the fight. After all, ghosts and their subsequent fights were as common as rain nowadays.

She followed the trail of property destruction to its end. Phantom probably won this one. Like he always did. She took out her Fenton Finder(™️) and input Phantom’s ecto-signature.

As the ghost tracker processed the information, Maddie looked around. Then she noticed another trail. A trail of ectoplasm leading to the park. That meant….that one of the ghosts was injured. This was a golden opportunity. An injured ghost would be much easier to capture and subdue.

She turned her device off, it was too loud anyway, and let the drops and puddles of ectoplasm lead her to her prey.

~~~~

There he was, floating in the middle of a clearing surrounded by birch trees in the park. By the light of the full moon, she could tell that he was still bleeding. A Fenton Thermos(™️) lay beside him on the grass.

Maddie silently inched her way to a bush close enough to his little sanctuary, careful not to step on any stray twigs and cause a snapping sound. She kept her eyes on him, and her ears open to any indication that he was aware of her presence.

The ghost slowly lowered himself to the ground, wincing from his wounds. He was muttering to himself and Maddie only caught a few words.

“Skulker….new gadgets…”

Maddie readied her Jack O’Nine Tails. The infamous ghost boy was only a few meters away from her. She decided it was best to stun him with the weapon first, (in case he wasn’t as vulnerable as he looked at the moment) and capture him in his own (stolen) Thermos after.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” the specter screamed, and Maddie flinched, thinking it was directed at her. But no, she had not been discovered. The ghost had just managed to hurt himself by accident.

This one was so strange. Of all the ghosts in and outside of Amity Park, this Phantom (as he likes to be called) was the most powerful, the most dangerous, and yet the townspeople adored him.

“Freakin Vlad Masters. I’m gonna fricking kill him!” he said to the moon as Maddie crouched in the bushes. She was aghast. He added a little something else, more to himself, that Maddie didn’t quite catch. But that was of little to no importance.

She honestly didn’t see why Jack liked Vlad so much. She liked him, sure. And if she was being honest with herself, she only tolerated Vlad because of how much Jack liked him and because she didn’t want to completely cut him off. The three of them were close in college after all and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But he was a bit of a creep, and she just didn’t like the way he acted around her and her family sometimes. He gave her bad vibes. But that didn’t mean that Vlad deserved to die.

How could the people of Amity Park treat Phantom like such a hero? He was a ghost and all ghosts were evil. That should be common knowledge at this point. Here he was, saying that he wanted to kill their mayor. Not only that, Phantom’s fights with the other ghosts cause so much property damage and so many injuries. He’s brainwashed almost the entire town into thinking he’s the “good guy”, the “hero”. But ghosts are nothing but evil.

Maddie cocked her Jack O’Nine Tails.

Phantom turned around, startled, but she could see he was still dazed.

She fired.

The nine long arms of the weapon whipped around Phantom and tied him up, while the sharp ends dug into his flesh and started zapping him.

After a few seconds of agonized screaming, Phantom was out cold. Although, that figure of speech was a tad redundant considering how ghosts (being dead) were already cold.

Maddie walked over quickly and picked up the stolen Fenton Thermos(™). She sucked him into it and sat down on the grass, wondering at what she had just done.

She did it. She finally captured Phantom! She turned the thermos around in her hands, smiling. She was almost giddy with happiness. Phantom was such a...different ghost. Here she actually had the chance to examine him and find out what made him so unique.

There was no time to lose then. Even though Amity Park was quite used to all sorts of noises in the night, Maddie knew it was best to get this specter home before one of his many human fans or few ghostly allies realized what had happened and went after her.

She gathered her things and did her best to quietly run home.

~~~

By the time she had gotten home, all the lights in Maddie’s neighborhood had turned off. She checked the time; it was only 4 am. Seems like the few people who had been curious enough to get out of bed to see the fight earlier where now sleeping once more.

After a few minutes dealing with a minor problem involving only getting Phantom (without getting the other ghost, Skulker) (although she planned on doing so soon) out of the thermos, she finally had him on her examining table.

She quickly strapped him to the table and activated the anti-ghost locks. They locked a ghost in place. Once turned on, a ghost caught in them would be “locked” in their current form and also in place.These were their heavy duty ones. With those turned on, even a strong ghost like Phantom wouldn’t be able to use their powers.

~~~

While preparing her equipment, Maddie wondered if she should wake Jack for this. He would love this. But she didn’t want to turn her back on Phantom. There were many reasons as to why he was the strongest ghost in Amity Park, and the strongest ghost they had ever fought. What if he suddenly came to while she was busy trying to get Jack to wake up? While she trusted her and Jack’s inventions, she didn’t want to take any chances. Who knows when she’ll have an opportunity like this ever again? She sighed. She’d just have to make it up to him in the morning with fudge. A lot of fudge.

She brought her tray of dissecting equipment over to the examining table. Phantom was slowly waking up. Maddie wondered if she should get some anesthesia. No, there’s no need for that. It would be good to be able to talk to the ghost while the procedure was underway. Aside from the dissection itself, talking to Phantom might help her get some answers to questions she’s been so frustrated by. And maybe she was a bit mad at Phantom for always managing to escape her.

As she prepared her things, she flicked her eyes over his dormant form.

He looked so peaceful, almost as if he were asleep. It was probably the fluorescent lights contrasting with his own eerie glow that somehow made Phantom seem different. He almost looked like Danny in that moment. Seeing the way his white hair was strewn all over his head, she sighed. He needed a haircut, just like Danny. She almost reached out and ruffled his hair, like how she did sometimes with her son, no matter how much it embarrassed him.

She shook her head and pulled her hand back. This wasn’t the time or place to be a mother. Right now, she was a scientist. Dr. Madeline Fenton was in.

She knew Phantom was special somehow. He managed to trick almost everyone, even her own kids, into thinking that he’s good. With that he gets away with most anything. All the property destruction, the injuries, and the chaos. No one minds because he “does it to save the town”.

Another thing about this specter was that he was probably the most complicated one in Amity park. He was the one that resembled humans the most. He seemed to be the only one capable of copying complex human emotions so well. Maybe that was why he was so popular.

The ghost seemed to finally understand the situation he was in.

“Maddie, wait, you don’t understand,” he said as he tried to activate his powers. To no avail. He started to panic a bit. “You don’t want to do this-”

“And why not? Why wouldn’t a scientist like myself want to continue my research?” she asked, calmly.

“Because you can’t! I’m--’

“Can’t I? You’re not exactly in a position to be making demands, Phantom.”

She could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead and neck. Interesting. He was the most human ghost she and Jack had ever encountered. This dissection should answer their questions as to why. She moved toward him, scalpel in hand.

“WAIT!”

Maddie cringed. He was so loud. He’d wake up Jack and the kids. He’d wake up the entire neighborhood.

But that wasn’t the only thing that had bothered her. His voice had cracked, which was no surprise since he must have died before puberty ended, but why she was suddenly reminded of her son in that moment was disconcerting. Phantom reminded her of when Danny was still little and would get so frustrated when she wasn’t paying attention to him. It also reminded her of her Danny now, the one who was still figuring out puberty.

“Be quiet!” she hissed. “You’ll wake my children.”

He spoke louder. “OH I’M SORRY I SURE DON’T WANT TO WAKE UP ANYBODY. CERTAINLY NOT ANYONE NAMED JAZ—”

The gag Maddie had quickly gotten was just right. The muffled sounds of him trying his hardest to say something were much better than his inhumanly loud shouting. The quiet also helped her to clear her thoughts. She didn’t need to be thinking about Danny now, not when she knew that this was such a monumental scientific moment.

She picked up her scalpel once more.

Phantom fought against his restraints. Shrieking. His muffled shouts were now accompanied by tears.

He—It, she corrected herself—was begging her now.

Maddie hesitated for a second. Only a second.

The ghost of course was only copying humans.

Ghosts can’t cry. Ghosts can’t feel anything other than anger or hate. They completely lacked the ability to feel empathy. Ghosts were mere imprints of the good, caring human beings they used to be. It was all just a ploy. It was trying to trick her into setting it free.

It was trying to say something. No doubt something to stall her or something it’d fabricate to get her to stop.

She held her tool tightly and started the dissection. She ignored the eerily human-like cries of the specter and carried on with her work. It was all for research. She needed to find out what made this one so different. Why this ghost was the most human. How it could copy humans so convincingly. For a world without ghosts. A better world. She thought about her children sleeping upstairs. It was so the next generation could lead safer lives. For her—

“MOM, PLEASE.”

The ghost in all its struggling somehow managed to remove the gag from its mouth. Maddie knew she should’ve made it tighter. She chose to ignore its choice of words. You can’t trust anything a ghost says after all.

“STOP.”

Despite her strong determination to just get on with the procedure, she found herself staring at her subject.

It was looking up at her with pleading eyes filled with tears. Those green eyes that so reminded her of her son’s blue ones. It looked so vulnerable in that moment, so...human. She almost obeyed the command to stop from the specter she held captive.

But no, she thought as she tightened its gag. It was all for her children after all. For Jazz. For Danny.

For the second generation.

[gukyi]

fairytail | pjm

⇒ summary: you have a particular disdain for the beach. jimin is here to change that. oh! and he’s also a merman. so there’s that, too. 

⇒ merman au with beauty and the beast inspired elements

⇒ word count: 19k

⇒ genre: fluff and a little angst, but just a smidge!

⇒ warnings: minor alcohol consumption and disgusting human boys

⇒ a/n: finally, out of my slump! my exams are over now so i can get back on my writing game for the summer, so get ready! as for now, here’s a little pre comeback gift for all of you, featuring the au i have been desperate to write for a while now. 

[!] also, this fic is a beast so i 1) recommend reading it in your browser if you’re on mobile and 2) i am sorry that the keep reading feature is trash and that you have to scroll through this whole ass thing. i really am. 

The second you step foot on the beach, you can already foresee yourself spending thirty minutes under the community-provided shower at the edge of the beach, washing sand from your bellybutton and other various places sand should not be.

The only reason you’re here, really, is because you scored a great deal on your lodging. And by a ‘great deal’, you mean getting to camp out in your absurdly affluent roommate’s family’s private beach house, located a good several blocks away from the clusters of cookie-cutter beach houses that stand on the edge of the shore. No, their house is in a gated little area with only two other houses that reside so far away that they can’t even be considered surroundings. It’s got a great view, a heated pool (which you don’t understand, because you’re right on a beach, but okay), and it’s all yours for the next month.

There’s just this one minor, unimportant caveat.

You hate the beach.

So it’s only natural that your roommate and sole best friend would decide to sacrifice her vacation time to try and convince you that sticky heat, incessant sand, and angry pelicans are worth your while. How noble of her.

“You’re being overdramatic,” she says as she breezes by you, already kicking off her flip-flops as her toes meet the sand. “Just because you’ve lived in a goddamn city your whole life—”

“I like it in cities,” you hiss in response, taking a hesitant step forward. You nearly topple over when you feel your foot sink into the sand, sighing as you lean over to tug off your sandals. You suppose it’s just easier to accept the sand for what it is rather than trying to avoid it. It’s sort of like the Black Plague in the 1300’s: unavoidable and unstoppable. “There’s no sand.”

“Sand shmand.” She rolls her eyes, grabbing hold of your left hand and tugging you towards the water. You’re in the more populous area of the beach, a twenty minute walk from the house, and the shouts of children as their sandcastles get washed away pierce your eardrums. “If you’re going to try and spend your entire life avoiding sand you may as well just go and live in Antarctica.”

“Thanks for that reassurance, Lisa,” you deadpan.

“Come on, we still have to unpack so we don’t have to stay here for very long. Just get our feet wet. Maybe our ankles, too,” she suggests, except it’s not a choice because she’s already darting towards the sea, eager to feel the ocean against her skin. You technically have the option of leaving right then and there, or even just staying back and letting her have her fun, but she’s the only person you know here and thus makes her the only person you feel safe around. So, out of fear of being socially lost, you follow. Lisa’s evil like that; she knows that even if you hate the beach, you’ll stay out of obligation. It’s all part of her big plan to brainwash you into liking the shore as much as she does.

Slowly, the sand starts to turn into something a little less malleable as you get closer to the ocean. You join Lisa at the edge of the water, keeping a firm grip on your sandals to make sure they don’t get wet and sandy from the tide. Every few seconds, the water will wash ashore before the sky pulls it back, making Lisa exclaim in excitement whenever she feels the warm water brush against her skin.

For a brief second, it’s nice. Enjoyable, actually, that relaxing feeling of coolness fading in and out as a soft breeze brushes through the strands of your hair. You close your eyes. Maybe if your entire beach experience was just this and nothing else, you’d actually find yourself quite keen on returning.

And then something slimy brushes up against your ankle, making you jump right out of your skin. Thank God you don’t actually scream, or Lisa would never let you live that down, but you nearly implode as you open your eyes in a fright. Below you is a lonely strand of wet, slimy seaweed. Lisa’s a few feet away, hunting for shells on the shallow ocean floor, her back turned towards you. While she’s not looking, you take the liberty of peeling the green from your skin and tossing it back into the ocean, hoping it doesn’t make your acquaintance again.

“Ay, look what I found!” Lisa says as she runs back over to you. In her palm is a dainty little shell, one of those twisted ones that look like the ice cream cones you have to pay extra for. “It’s so rare to find a full shell these days because all of the demon parents snatch them up for their demon children.”

“Got some grudges you’ve held?”

“Just a few. I’m a little salted, but it’s nothing the sea can’t handle. Ha!” Lisa barks. “Get it? Salted? The sea? Oh God, I wear myself out. Hey, let’s go back, alright? My parents would flip if they knew we left the house unlocked with valuables inside.” She nudges your shoulder and you sigh in relief at the suggestion. Nothing sounds more enticing right now than a couch. And some nice Brooklyn Nine-Nine playing on the television.

You nod in agreement, and the two of you begin to make your way towards the little washing-off stations. One of them is currently occupied by a family of seven, the mother demanding for her children to stay still so that way she can spray the sand from their backs and their hands and their shins as the father dries off the ones who are all cleaned up. You and Lisa direct your attention to the other one, where one of the showerheads remains unused for the two of you to nab. Lisa takes approximately five seconds to carelessly spray the soles of her feet before slipping on her flip-flops, wet from the moisture. In contrast, you spend five minutes meticulously trying to get any trace of beach from your skin, cleaning with conviction as you feel around for any stray sand.

“Oh my God, you take fuckin’ forever,” Lisa groans before gasping, a palm over her mouth. “Fuck, I gotta stop swearing. Shit!”

You roll your eyes, finally deciding that enough is enough as you pull on your sandals. Maybe you’ll never be completely rid of the sand that litters your body, but you suppose that that’s your reality for the next month, so you better get used to it.

You happily walk back to the house, letting Lisa talk your ear off about how it took her blood, sweat, and tears to convince her parents to let her have the beach house for as long as the two of you do because they think she’s reckless. Which, quite frankly, you understand. Lisa has a track record of not making the most reasonable decisions despite her good intentions. Like when she nearly burned the kitchen down after thinking that making a whole ass steak—with the only prior cooking experience being instant ramen—to impress a date would be a good idea, or when she broke the living room window after a bird had accidentally gotten itself trapped inside your apartment. Lots of it has to do with property damage, which is exactly why you can probably guess why her parents were hesitant on letting her have free reign over their expensive beach house. There are probably lots of things inside that can be broken or burned.

She also brings up this party that her parents are forcing her to attend in their place because they’re off “vacationing in the Swiss Alps, or whatever”. She makes sure to include the air quotes. The party’s nearby, anyway, barely a two minute walk from the house at a little private pier right on the beach. Something about her parent’s rich business partners trying to extend an olive branch towards their family after fucking them over a few years back. Lisa’s making you come with her so that way she doesn’t suffocate in the inflated egos.

“It’s tomorrow, don’t forget,” Lisa says as she waves hello to the security guard that protects your gated community. “We just have to get that out of the way and then we can spend the rest of the month having fun and not doing my parents’ dirty work! God, I don’t even know why they’re making me fuckin’ go, like, they fucked us over and we hate them now, this isn’t going to change anything just because they’re sending their nineteen-year-old daughter and her best friend to some dumb party. Ugh!”

She rants on and on and you just listen, knowing better than to try and interrupt. It’ll just send her on another tangent. Lisa’s always been the talker between the two of you.

“And we have to dress really nice to show them that my family is still very wealthy and that we can afford to dress nice even if they cost us a shit ton of cash back in the olden days. Honestly,” she says as she tugs open the glass door to the house. You happily kick off your shoes once you’re inside, collapsing on the couch with a sigh of pleasure. Even though Lisa isn’t right next to you anymore, she keeps going as she gets a soda from the fridge. “Even if you look expensive, it’s fine. People think that only wealthy people in wealthy clothes can look expensive, but that’s fake as hell. Besides, Gucci clothes are so ugly. Like, who would want to wear this gaudy bright green dress with a snake down the front and a really gross pattern? Not me. The only rule of fashion is that if you wear clothes that fit you and feel confident, you’ll look like a million bucks. Rich people don’t understand that. So tomorrow, don’t tell people that you got your dress from some plebeian mall store. Only tell rich people where your clothes are from if they’re from rich people places. Speaking of which! My mom gave me a list of things to pick up for her in the nice part of town. We’ll have to go one of these days. She needs a new necklace from Tiffany’s, and she placed an order for some shoes from Louis Vuitton a while back that we gotta pick up…”

Lisa keeps going but you feel yourself drifting off, tired after a long day of travelling and beaching. Your eyes flutter shut as Lisa starts complaining about how her parents waste so much money on such ugly clothing.

You feel like a fish out of water.

Maybe your hair’s done and your makeup looks flawless and you’re wearing a prom -esque long, baby pink pleated dress that straps over one shoulder and heels that are definitely going to give you blisters by the end of the night, but it’s like the people here know that you’re out of place. You come from a family that—gasp!—doesn’t make eight figures a year and you know you’ll spend the next twenty years paying off your overpriced college debt, and these people can see that in your eyes, in your hesitance. You stick as close to Lisa as possible and speak very little, letting her do all the talking as she mindlessly greets all of these nameless business people with beautiful wives and expensive wristwatches.

Easily, the two of you are the youngest attendees. There are some men around your age, probably only one or two years older at most, sons of the CEOs and Presidents and heirs to their family’s fortunes.

That one scene in Mean Girls, the one where Janis Ian and Damian Does He Even Have A Last Name are dragging Cady through the hallway as Damian screams, “New meat coming through!”, is sort of how you feel now. Like Lisa is Damian and Janis combined into one eclectic, fabulously wealthy but down-to-earth teenage girl and you are Cady, scared shitless.

It’s apparent that Lisa has been trapped in a conversation with some CEO of some corporation, his wife, and their attractive but probably disgusting twenty-year-old son for the past ten minutes. You can tell from the way she sends you desperate looks as she nods enthusiastically as the CEO drones on about some deal she doesn’t care about. You can do absolutely nothing but drink champagne and offer her your moral support.

“What are you studying in college right now, Lisa?” The father asks.

“Business law and ethics,” Lisa responds. It rolls right off of her tongue, which surprises you because Lisa’s majoring in Psychology and minoring in Theatre. It must be such a commonly asked question amongst her parents’ business partners that the lie comes easily to her. “I’m thinking of being a lawyer, but my parents want to me to take over their company.”

“Well, you still have a few years before you need to make a decision, of course. Maybe your husband can run the business while you become a lawyer,” the father suggests. You can feel Lisa rolling her eyes, even if she isn’t actually doing it visibly. “Our son here, Brad, is interested in Business law as well.”

Lisa gives you this look, one that says “these people have been trying to set me up with their son for the past five years”, and you smile softly at her, helpless.

“What about your friend?” Brad asks, motioning to you. His voice is deep and a little scary. His hair looks soft but is probably matted down with a thick layer of gel. He looks like a stereotypical football player who probably only attends a good school because his parents can pay for it, and more. “What are you majoring in, Miss…?”

“Y/N,” you say sharply. “And chemistry.”

“Sounds demanding,” Brad comments mindlessly, looking you up and down. You like him less and less with every minute.

“Yes, it’s a lot of work, but I enjoy it. I’m quite good at it, also,” you boast. Normally, you would never brag about your skills, but seeing as rich people brag just by existing, you suppose you can make some exceptions to your moral code for tonight.

“Pretty and smart,” Brad says, and you think he thinks it’s a compliment. “Tell me, how do you know Lisa?”

You preferred it when the conversation was about stocks. “We’re roommates.”

“Oh,” the mother says, intrigued. She’s got this airy, fake voice to her. “Did your parents know each other?”

“No,” you say curtly. You’re debating as to whether or not to scare them off by saying you were raised on a farm in the middle of the country, or something. Something that will frighten them away.

“Are you here alone tonight, Miss Y/N?” Brad asks, his voice getting a little huskier every time he opens his mouth and says something ridiculous.

“I’m with Lisa,” you tell him, wrapping your hand around her wrist as a signal for “please get me the fuck out of this conversation”.

Brad chuckles. “I mean, are you here with a man? Surely, a girl as pretty as you would have a man looking after her.”

You force a smile. There are so many things that Brad finds appealing about himself that you do not. Like his sexist microaggressions. And his slicked-back hair. And his face. They all combine to make one very repelling man.

Hopefully Lisa can sense your desperate urge to bop, bop, bop right out of this conversation before Brad decides that maybe his hands are better than his mouth when attempting to flirt. Nothing more terrifying than when a boy decides that physical contact is better than verbal exchanges.

As per usual, she saves the day. “Y/N, I just started my period,” she says loudly, slapping a heavy hand down on your shoulder with a smile. “Please accompany me to the bathroom so that way I can resolve this menstrual situation.”

Brad and his parents look absolutely horrified at Lisa’s outburst. You suppose it’s very unbecoming of a rich girl like herself to be so brazen, but that’s Lisa. At least her parents aren’t here; they’d probably skin her alive if they knew what declaration she just made at a fancy party like this one.

You smile awkwardly as Lisa guides you away without even a proper goodbye. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding in.

“Ugh,” Lisa mutters. “Fuckin’ Brad. I hate that kid. He’s always been such an ass, even when we were like… fifteen. Like, how much bigger can your ego get?”

“Now I know why you didn’t want to come,” you tell her.

Lisa nods because this is her reality. “Yeah. Can’t tell you how many times parents have tried to get me to date their rich, hot sons. Also can’t tell you how many times said rich, hot sons have hit on me, with little success. If only they knew the truth…”

“That you’re a Psychology and Theatre major lesbian with a very, very sad crush on this beautiful girl in your Freud class who, I’m telling you, definitely likes you back?”

“Stop saying that! She does not! She’s Zeus from Hercules… and I’m not even Hades. I’m like, that centaur that Meg was fighting that got knocked out by Pegasus. The ugly one.”

“Would you calm down? I’m telling you, she likes you. You just need to muster up the courage to ask her out to the mini golf course like you wanted to,” you say, encouraging her with a pat on her shoulder.

Lisa sighs. She’s always been very oblivious to this kind of stuff. “You’re off the hook for the rest of the night, if you’d like. You should go down to the cove, it’s peaceful and quiet and you’ll like it. You can see the stars really well, too. Barely a five minute walk. Don’t worry if your dress gets dirty, I can send it off to dry cleaning tomorrow. I’ll cover for you.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look like you’re having much fun either,” you ask.

“Yeah, but I know how to fake it. You, on the other hand, are a disaster waiting to happen,” Lisa says fondly. “Go. I’ll meet you at the house after.”

You thank her for, if nothing else, the killer champagne and really tasty hors d’oeuvres. Lisa waves goodbye as she blends in seamlessly with the rest of the affluent people that surround her, putting on her fakest smile as she gets absorbed into another boring conversation.

You don’t know exactly which cove Lisa is talking about, but you suppose it can’t be that far away. You pull off your heels and let your feet sink into the sand, cool against your skin from the pleasant atmosphere of the night. Soon enough, you stumble upon a little area away from the spread of the public beach, hidden by rocks and stones with only a small wooden bridge leading to it. It’s quaint, a small little thing that could barely even be considered a cove if not for the aura that surrounds it.

The stars gleam above. You take a seat on a rock right at the edge of the water, gazing up into the sky. Lisa was right; it’s beautiful here. The soft breeze that wafts through the night tickles your bare skin and flows through your dress, and here, you feel like nothing could get to you. Not even Fuckin’ Brad, as Lisa referred to him as. Walking in here, taking it all in, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

You’re so busy staring up at the stars, watching them twinkle above your head, that you barely notice the sound of the waves splashing. Slowly, you turn your head down to look at the sprawling ocean, covering the horizon for as far as the eye can see. You dismiss the sound instantly, thinking it’s probably some nocturnal fish or even just the tide.

It happens again. Only this time you can see a glint of silver in the water. You squint, unable to see much in this darkness. Racking your brain, you can’t think of any nocturnal silver fish that have a habit of jumping out of the water like this.

Another splash. At this point, you’re just plain intrigued, slowly finding yourself getting off of the rock and wading into the water. The ends of your dress are soaked but Lisa said that she could send it out to be cleaned so you’re not that worried about. Still squinting, you move closer and closer towards the source of the splash.

Maybe you’re just mad. Maybe it’s just been a long day of dealing with stuck-up people and this is your method of coping. Seeking out some sort of answer in what is probably just a fish, or something.

And then you see him.

You see the whole top half of his head, really. He’s wading mostly below the water, only thing exposed is a head of bright red hair and deep brown eyes. Not even his damn nose.

“Oh my… Jesus Christ!” You gasp in shock, a hand going to your heart. “What the hell are you doing in the water so late at night, Mister?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Fine, don’t answer me,” you say, retreating back to your rock. “Sorry if I interrupted your skinny dipping session, or something. Just trying to decompress.” You climb back onto the stone, grabbing the fabric of your dress in your hands and wringing it out in the sea. You know it probably won’t dry out much here, but you’ll try your hardest to make the job easier later.

Admittedly, it’s a little more awkward now that you know there is some hidden stranger wading in the water only several meters away, but if they don’t say anything, you won’t either.

When the feeling of his watchful eyes gets to be a little too unsettling, you make to get up and head home, hoping that the party is over and that Lisa is on her way back as well. Your dress is still damp and your feet are still sore from your heels, but at least you’ve got a warm bed waiting for you back at the house.

“Alright, well…” You say awkwardly, “I’m gonna go now. Leave you in peace. Uh, goodbye, I guess?”

The boy doesn’t respond, just keeps watching you with keen eyes, and you send a small wave as you start to head out. Then you hear another splash. Turning your head, you can’t see the boy anymore, but you do catch another glimpse of silver, glinting in the moonlight. Barely, just barely, you make out a tail. A silver tail, and no boy, and suddenly both have disappeared beneath the waves.

You think you’re insane. Tired from the long day, you shake your head, thinking that your mind’s probably deceiving you. Parties really get to you, sometimes. With a final look at the now peaceful waves, you start to head back.

“Hey Lisa?” You ask the next morning, still scratching your head from the night before. You spent the entire time back home rewatching The Little Mermaid and analyzing the logistics of the entire thing. First of all, you don’t understand why Ariel didn’t just fucking write down that she was mute, because it could have saved everyone lots of trouble. Second of all, you don’t understand why Eric, as cute as he was, couldn’t, for the life of him, remember Ariel’s damn face.

“Yeah?” Lisa asks with a mouthful of Cheerios.

“Do merpeople exist?” You ask. You sound ridiculous. As if you, of all people, believe in merpeople. Christ.

“Why on Earth would you ask me that?” Lisa says in response. “I can barely remember the parts of the brain.”

“No, I’m serious,” you say. “Do you think they’re real? Or just like… kid things?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re real. I don’t necessarily know how it would be biologically possible, but after all, we’ve only explored five percent of the ocean. For all we know, they could. Why?”

“Never mind. I think Fuckin’ Brad made me go crazy, or something. I’m not thinking straight,” you say, shrugging it off. You shake your head furiously, needing some air. “I’m gonna go down to the cove. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Suit yourself, mate. I need to start tanning now so that way when we get back it looks natural and not like I just turned myself into an Oompa-Loompa. Like those white girls. Do you think they know that they look like that? Or do their mirrors just lie to them as well?” Lisa asks, making you laugh. She starts to shove a bunch of various items into a tote bag, including some SPF 100+ sunscreen, a book you know she won’t read, and a dad visor. “Catch you later!”

Lisa’s out the door in the flash, leaving you to fumble for yourself. You decide to take another trip down to the cove, clear your mind and hopefully convince yourself that you’re not losing it instead.

When you reach the little bridge, you hesitantly cross it, praying to any and all of the higher powers in this world that maybe, just maybe, you were seeing things. That would be nice. To put it simply, he sort of felt like a figment of your imagination, that boy. He didn’t say anything and you could barely catch a glimpse of his face, just his eyes and that mop of bright red hair. And whatever that gleam of silver was. Oh God, you think you’re getting a headache.

Sighing, you camp out on that rock again, whipping out your phone and praying that this little cove has good reception. Just some alone time would be wonderful. Exactly what you were looking for last night.

You can’t think of a scenario where a strange boy floating in the water at nine at night would make sense. The more you think about it, the more surreal it feels, like you just dreamt the entire thing and that he isn’t real. Merpeople aren’t real. They aren’t, you’re just going mad or something, they’re not—

“You’re back.”

The voice nearly scares you right off of the rock.

“What the fu— Who are you?” You ask, eyes wide at the sight of him. He’s here again, that bright red hair is unmistakable.

“You came here last night, didn’t you?” He asks, braver this time. You can see his whole face, even the top of his torso. He’s gorgeous.

“Y-Yes,” you say, alarmed at how many syllables he’s getting out in comparison to last night. “You were— You are—”

“Why did you come back?” He asks, refusing to stop to answer your own questions. Damn, he’s insistent. You think you preferred him when he was silent.

“I— To look for you,” you say, stunned speechless. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jimin,” the boy says. He hasn’t moved since you first saw him, still hidden below the ocean. “Who are you?”

“Y/N…” You say, trailing off. You can’t think of what else to ask him. This is easily the most bizarre experience you’ve ever had. “What— Who— Are you a merman?”

Jimin chuckles, warm and hearty. With every laugh, his hair bounces. It’s a little jarring, really, the fact that it’s completely dry. “You catch on quickly.”

“So you are!” You exclaim, eyes wide. “Oh, thank God, I thought I was mad,” you sigh in relief, a hand over your heart as your shoulders relax. “Really. You scared the living shit out of me last night.”

“You were scared? Humans never come to this area of the beach, I thought you were hunting me down,” Jimin admits shyly.

“Hunting you down? Why on Earth would I do that?” You ask.

“I’m up here a lot.”

“I have a feeling you’re not supposed to be,” you deduce, and Jimin nods guiltily.

“My friends would kill me if they knew I was up here, talking to a pretty human girl like you.”

You smile awkwardly at his compliment. He thinks you’re pretty? Well, you think he’s stunning. Sort of ethereal looking, like he’s almost too good to be true.

Jimin’s swum a little closer now, but not close enough. You want to see him fully, for who he is.

“I’m touched that you would die for me,” you joke.

Jimin laughs again, and it’s music to your ears. God, he’s getting more perfect by the minute.

“Why were you here last night?” Jimin asks inquisitively, swimming closer. Under the water, you can see his silver tail glistening in the sun as it reflects through the waves. You knew you weren’t seeing things. It’s true. He’s true, he’s real, he’s here.

“Escaping,” you heave out. “My friend Lisa invited me to this terrible party, it was filled so many stuck-up rich people, and—and there was this boy that was hitting on me.”

“Was he cute?”

“Sort of, in this gross, stereotypical kind of way.”

“I don’t really understand what you mean,” Jimin says.

“He was the kind of cute that would make him, oh, I don’t know, Instagram famous or something.”

“What’s Instagram?” Jimin asks, eyes lighting up. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Shit, I don’t know how to explain it. Wait, let me show you,” you say, fumbling for your phone. Even though Jimin’s slowly been moving closer, he’s still far away, a few feet at the minimum. You reach your hand out in front of you. “Come on.”

Jimin looks hesitant at your invitation, but follows nonetheless, swimming closer before joining you right below the rock, where there’s a dip in the sea floor that allows him to keep swimming in place. You turn on your phone and his mouth drops open in excitement.

“What is this magical device?” Jimin asks, amazed.

“It’s my phone,” you say, endeared at his curiosity. He’s sort of like a child, in that youthful glow kind of way, a whole world out there for him to discover. “I use it to call people. And access the Internet. And use Instagram, of course, which is what I’m gonna show you, hold up.”

You quickly swipe across your screen, pulling up the app, much to Jimin’s wonder. It seems as though he has a million burning questions on the tip of his tongue. “It’s this app where people can post photos and other people can see them and like and comment on them. And so this boy I was telling you about…” You quickly search for his page, knowing that Lisa will have regrettably followed him out of obligation. “Here. This is him.”

“He’s awfully ugly,” Jimin says to you with little remorse, making you bark out in laughter.

“And his personality isn’t much better,” you say, sighing. Oh, he could have done so well, if he had just kept his mouth shut.

“I take it you didn’t take to his affection for you,” Jimin notes.

You shake your head furiously. “Oh, God no. I don’t hate myself that much. Besides, if I had, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“And are you thankful for that, Y/N?” Jimin asks, soft smile on his face.

You grin in response. Jimin is gorgeous, this superhuman of a person. It almost feels like a dream, really, when you look at him. Like it’s impossible for this to be real. But he is. He is real and warm and bright and here, in front of you. There is something so truly charming about him, about the way this sense of wonder reflects in his eyes. “Yes,” you tell him. “Very much so.”

The rest of the day you waste away in the little cove, chowing down on the box of Frosted Flakes you brought as your only subsistence. It was half empty to begin with, so by midday you’re scraping away at the bottom of the box, praying that Tony the Tiger will magically appear and refill your stock.

Jimin asks for some at one, point, holding out a damp hand as you pour some into his palm. He doesn’t really know what to do with the pile of cereal in front of him, that is, until he watches you snarf down a large chunk of it right from the box, chugging it like vodka.

“Just shove it in your mouth, man,” you tell him. “Maybe you merpeople are all proper and things, but here on land we care little for etiquette.”

“Clearly,” Jimin comments to himself as he plucks a single piece and pops it into his mouth.

“Hey!” You gasp, nudging him lightly. His skin is soft to the touch, and not pruny at all despite the fact that he literally lives in the water. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jimin says to himself. “I am merely recognizing the barbaric manner in which you eat this… uh… what do you call this?”

With a mouthful of sugar and corn flakes, you respond, “Cereal.”

“Cereal,” Jimin finishes. He takes another piece hesitantly and eats it.

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it,” you say, frowning when you try to dump out more Frosted Flakes from the box but are met with nothing but crumbs. You sigh, shoving the cardboard back into your bag to recycle for later. “Cereal isn’t meant to be eaten dry. People have it with milk, except there are true heathens out there that pour the milk before the cereal. Like, who does that? You waste a shit ton of milk and the cereal gets all soggy. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.”

“Milk? Like… from—” Jimin motions down to his chest.

“Oh my God, no! No, no, not at all. Milk from cows. And soybeans. And sometimes almonds, but I don’t really know how that works because I don’t think almonds have milk in them. Wow, you guys really miss out on a lot,” you exclaim.

“We eat exclusively sea flora and fauna. My diet consists of mostly seaweed. It has lots of nutrients crucial to the proper development of a merperson,” Jimin says.

“But don’t you think that maybe the fish you guys eat have feelings? Like, what if they’re sad when you eat them?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jimin shrugs. “That’s as if you asked a carnivore if they feel bad for eating the meat they kill.”

“You mean, you can’t speak with the fish?” You ask, mind blown. It’s almost as if The Little Mermaid is a fictional tale with almost nothing rooted in reality and therefore lacking in any sort of sensical nature. Wow!

Jimin frowns, disappointed at your stereotyping. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no. Merpeople do not communicate with their food.”

“My entire life is a lie,” you say, shocked.

Jimin laughs.

Just then, your phone buzzes beside you, the vibration making your ears perk up like a dog after hearing the word ‘squirrel’. It’s Lisa, and she’s demanding to know where you are because the local dry cleaning place closes in fifteen minutes and if you don’t get your dress cleaned now you probably won’t until the end of your vacation when you inevitably remember two hours before you have to leave. You are not nearly as forgetful as Lisa is, but you understand where she’s coming from. You’d rather get this thing cleaned now than later.

“Oh shit, I gotta blast,” you say, quickly shooting a reply of “comin” to Lisa as you scramble to get up. “I can bring some more food tomorrow, if you want. What do you want to try? Pickles? Lays potato chips? Some caloric hamburgers from McDonald’s?”

Jimin looks almost taken aback at your enthusiastic offer, like he’s surprised that you want to do something for him.

“You wish to see me again?” He asks, looking a bit shocked and a bit touched. Like he didn’t expect that you’d want to come back.

“What do you mean?” You ask inquisitively. “Of course I do.”

Jimin smiles, pink lips curving upwards in a soft grin that makes your heart flutter only the slightest. Merman charm, you chalk it up to. “Well then, something healthy, please.”

“God, you’re just like my mom,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I’ll see if I can bring some granola bars or something. Maybe oranges, since they’re in season right now and also really underrated. See you tomorrow, Jimin?” You ask, hopeful even though you know he’ll be there anyway.

Jimin nods. He looks down at the remaining cereal in his palm, and with a deep breath, dumps the entire handful into his mouth at once. With his mouth filled with Frosted Flakes, he musters out a “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You smile to yourself. Maybe this vacation won’t be as bad as you thought it would be.

“Are there oranges in this place?” You ask as you ransack the kitchen, searching in every cabinet and cupboard on the hunt for the fruit. Lisa’s camped out on the couch, half-paying attention to the K-drama she’s streaming and half-online shopping from these obscure, indie stores that no one’s ever heard of. Lisa’s always had quite eclectic fashion.

“If there’s none in the bowl of stale fruit on the counter then we don’t have any,” Lisa says from her position, slouched amongst the cushions as if she’s method-acting as one of them. “Why?”

“Uh… got a sudden craving for that sweet, sweet citrus, I guess,” you fib. “Where’s the closest grocery store?”

“You’d do better going to the market downtown,” Lisa advises, like a local helping out some poor tourist with directions to Venice Beach. “The fruit is fresh there and the vendors are happy to give you a good deal on them. Unlike Whole Foods.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna head out for the day. Probably go to the beach, or something.”

“The beach?” Lisa asks, shooting up to stare you in the face. She’s got this wild, puzzled look on her face. “Why the fuck are you going to the beach?”

“Am I not allowed to, or—?”

“You hate the beach, man. Always have,” Lisa says pointedly, like she’s reminding you of what you declared to her four days ago on your journey here. “What gives?”

“I—You’ve just managed to convince me, I guess,” you shrug, hoping she can’t see right through your terrible cover-up. You don’t exactly know how easily you can put “I met a beautiful and kindhearted merman in the cove and now every day I am going to go see him and talk to him about the human world and bring him weird things like our phones and sunscreen and The Little Mermaid keychains” without having Lisa lose her damn mind.

Lisa looks skeptical but shrugs, sinking back down to blend in with the couch cushions as she pulls her glasses back onto her face so she can watch her K-drama. You’d probably spend the day sitting alongside her if not for the extenuating circumstances.

“Don’t get too lost in the market,” she advises, a sly grin on her face when you turn back to face her, halfway out the door. “There’s this one guy who’s going to try to sell you something that definitely appropriates various marginalized cultures. Don’t fall for it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say in return, already pulling up your phone and raising the brightness so Google Maps can lead you towards your destination.

When you reach the market, you pass by various stalls that all appropriate a certain culture in its own uniquely offensive manner. Avoiding the men standing behind them, you approach the stall with the little old lady, one decked out in baskets of fruit. You nearly go for the cantaloupes instead, but you are here for one reason and one reason only.

“Two oranges, please,” you say kindly, already pulling out your wallet as the lady plucks the ripest oranges from the rightmost basket.

“Healthy, huh?”

You dart your head to the side, only to be greeted by a rather unpleasant image of Brad in a Hawaiian shirt and board shorts, looking like a real golf dad. He’s even got these terribly ugly sunglasses on, just to top the whole outfit off.

“Surprised, or something?” You ask with an unamused expression, pulling out a ten dollar bill. Brad doesn’t seem to pick up on the fact that you don’t really want to be within a one hundred mile radius of him.

“Here, let me,” Brad says, making to get his own wallet out and be whatever kind of gentleman he thinks he’s being. You don’t have much experience with gentlemanly actions but you have a strong feeling that being a creep who randomly pays for women’s random grocery shopping is probably not on the list. Just a hunch, though.

“No, it’s fine,” you say, visibly unnerved. It looks like the old lady at the booth takes pity on you, and accepts your bill before Brad can say anything about it. She winks at you as you sigh.

“Well, let me treat you to something else at this little marketplace,” Brad suggests, boasting that shiny silver credit card in his hand. “I’ll buy you anything you want.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you say, desperately trying to worm your way out of the situation. Brad doesn’t make any sort of physical contact with you, thank God, but he does have this annoying habit of being by your side when you are very obviously trying to leave his company.

“You sure? Pretty girl like you should have nice things,” Brad asks.

“I have plenty of wonderful things already, thanks,” you say awkwardly. The air that surrounds you is tense, palpable. Oh my God, you just want to get down to the cove and lament your woes to someone who will listen, aka Jimin.

“We could go to the higher end part of town. I’ll buy you a nice bag.”

You hate to be the bearer of bad news, but women typically aren’t so shallow that a purse will win over their affection. “Actually, I really should be going now, I still have lots of other errands to run, you know—”

It’s the perfect chance for you to escape from his clutches, barely even offering a goodbye as you skirt off into the crowd and hope that you’ve lost him. God, why do men do that thing? What’s it called again? Exist?

Looking behind you as you speed-walk towards the cove, there is no twenty-year-old blond male in salmon colored board shorts wearing ugly sunglasses following you, much to your relief.

By the time you reach the cove, Jimin’s already there, looking bored out of his mind as he inspects something in his hands. As you move closer, you see that it’s a teapot.

“Hey,” you say, interrupting his thoughts.

“Oh, you came,” Jimin says, delighted. “I didn’t know if you would be able to make it.”

“I promised that I would,” you tell him, settling down on the rock. Your hand fishes through your bag filled with all this junk, like old receipts and expired lip gloss, until you pluck out the oranges. “Here. Try one.”

“What is this?” Jimin asks, enchanted.

“An orange.”

“Because it’s orange?” Jimin guesses.

“Yes, we humans aren’t very good at coming up with creative names.”

“Noted,” Jimin says, rolling the fruit around in his hand. He opens his mouth, about to take a bite, when you shout.

“Oh my God! Oh, oh no, not like that,” you exclaim, reaching over to stop him before he just shoves the entire thing in his mouth. “You don’t eat the skin. You peel it.”

“How?”

“Like this,” you say, holding your own hands out. You start to peel the orange, pulling off the skin like it’s second nature until what’s left are just the slices. Jimin stares at your nimble fingers in awe the entire time, watching you intently. “Now you try,” you say.

Jimin hardly makes a dent in the orange, making you roll your eyes fondly.

“Here,” you say, leaning over to cup his hands in your own. He gazes into your eyes at the touch, brown irises glinting in the sun, its rays highlighting the caramel in them. You feel yourself grinning awkwardly and blame the way that your cheeks heat up on the summer heat. Slowly, you teach him how to peel the orange himself, bit by bit until you’ve got a matching pair of peeled oranges in front of you.

“Cheers,” you say, holding your orange out.

“Cheers,” he replies, clinking oranges before taking a juicy bite of his own.

Admittedly, not really the way most people eat oranges, but you suppose that learning is a process. Besides, he’s cute, the way he bites into the citrus with both of his eyes squeezed shut like a child wincing at the taste of a lemon. You watch, occasionally bubbling over into giggles as you pop slice by slice into your mouth. Jimin finishes the orange far before you do, but that’s alright, because it simply allows time for more questions.

“So, tell me, human, what is the purpose of this object?” Jimin asks, holding up the rusted old teapot.

“Human?” You ask, mock offended. “I thought we were on a first-name basis.”

“My apologies,” Jimin says, bowing melodramatically, “Y/N.”

“It’s a teapot,” you say, plucking it from his hands and inspecting it yourself. It looks to be over one hundred years old. This could probably earn its place in a national museum. “Damn, this thing looks old.”

“What’s a teapot?”

“It’s a pot. That humans serve their tea in. Tea’s like… a beverage made from leaves. It’s actually really tasty, even if it sort of tastes like sour water,” you describe it. “I can bring some tomorrow, if you’d like. Don’t know how well a hot beverage is going to go down in the middle of summer, but we can try.”

“I’d love to,” Jimin says, nodding enthusiastically. He beams up at you, bright cherry hair practically nothing in comparison to the smile he has permanently etched on his face whenever you see him. Jimin’s like a dream, like everything you had ever hoped for in somebody.

“Okay,” you say happily. “Deal. Tomorrow, we’re having a tea party.”

“Not so fast Miss Y/N,” Lisa orders before you can slip out of the house without her noticing. She’s in nothing but a robe, towel wrapped around damp hair, and she’s pointing an accusatory hairbrush in your direction. You must look like a deer caught in the headlights. “Where do you think you’re going now?”

“I’m getting tea,” you tell her.

“It’s nearly boiling point temperatures outside,” she reminds you.

“Iced tea?”

“You’ve been acting sketch recently, Y/N,” Lisa says, stepping down from the staircase and making her way towards you. Your hand fiddles with the door handle. “There’s something you’re hiding…”

Lisa stares deep into your eyes and probably as equally deep into your soul, and you can only hope that she doesn’t inexplicably think of the idea that you might be sneaking off to hang out with a fucking merman, of all things, every single day. She narrows her eyes as she glares into your own.

“I know! You met a boy. A cute one too, that treats you like a princess,” Lisa exclaims, like she’s solved the biggest mystery of her life.

“Got me,” you say awkwardly. It’s technically true. Jimin’s cute. And half-boy. And he certainly does treat you well. “Am I that easy to read?”

“Yes.” Lisa nods firmly. “Now, it’s not my place to interrogate you on your love life, but I want details when you get back, Missy!” She orders, voice high pitched. She pushes you out the door with a shove, nearly making you lose your balance. “Go! Follow the call of young love! Let it guide you to happiness!”

Lisa’s always been so damn dramatic. You shake your head fondly as you make your way to the closest Starbucks, hoping they still serve hot tea despite it being hot enough to bake M&M cookies on the pavement.

Jimin’s there by the time you reach the cove, wading in the water with his eyes closed, floating on it like it’s air. He looks so peaceful, so at home in this state. The sea is where he belongs.

You almost feel bad for interrupting. “Ready for our tea party?”

Jimin is caught off guard by the sound of your voice, flapping around the waves in shock until he regains his senses. For a brief second, he disappears under the water, before bursting above the waves with a splash. “Gave me a fright, there.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know tea parties were so scary,” you apologize, claiming your usual spot on the rock with two still-steaming cups of Starbucks tea in your hands.

“Ah! What are those?” Jimin cries when he sees them, diving below the water so that only his eyes and up are exposed.

“These? Starbucks…?”

“Namjoon says to beware of those items. We find them often on the sea floor, tangled in coral or seaweed. They cause much harm to the creatures below. I once saw a crab trying to fashion itself a new shell out of one,” Jimin says when his entire head comes above the surface.

You suppose Namjoon is one of his merman friends. Probably one that doesn’t take too much of a liking towards humans such as yourself. “They’re not harmful. At least, not when you treat them correctly,” you say, leaning over and holding one up out for Jimin to take. “They’re cups. They have the tea inside them.”

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. “Seriously? These look awfully different from the teapot I had shown you.”

“Tea can be served in various containers,” you tell him eloquently, motioning for him to take the damn cup from your hands. “It all goes to the same place, after all.”

“Touché,” Jimin reasons, taking the cup from you and holding it in his own. He shivers as the warmth bleeds through his skin and into his bloodstream. “Y/N, I hate to be like this, but how will you dispose of these cups once we are finished with them?”

“If you’re worried I’m going to toss them into the ocean like all of the other littering, careless assholes out there in the world, I can assure you that I won’t,” you promise him softly, taking a sip of your tea. “When we’re finished, I’ll take the cups and recycle them, so that they can be turned into something new.”

“Are you sure you’re even human?” Jimin asks, grinning up at you. “You’re just too kind to be like the barbarians we are warned about as children.”

You smile. “I am as human as everyone else.”

Jimin shakes his head softly, not believing you. After all, how could someone as kind, as selfless, as giving, as open as you be anything less than a miracle?

When you both finish up your tea, Jimin happily hands over the empty cardboard cup, licking his lips in the process. You make sure to put them in your bag for safekeeping, intent on disposing of them in the most environmentally friendly manner. The very fact that Jimin was initially frightened by the sight of the Starbucks cups makes you wonder what dumpster fire humanity is turning into.

“That was tasty,” Jimin comments, rubbing his belly with a satisfied look on his face. “I wish that we had beverages such as that down below. Perhaps I can get Seokjin to see if he can make the same concoction from the leaves of the sea flowers.”

“It’s worth a try, right?” You respond, eyes hopeful. You latch your legs over the rock, letting the waves splash against your bare toes in an effort to relieve some of the heat that overwhelms your body, inside and out. “God, I don’t know how you’re not burning up after drinking a hot drink on an equally steamy day. I’m practically melting.”

“I do not see you visibly changing from a solid to a liquid,” Jimin points out.

“It’s an expression,” you inform him.

“Well,” Jimin says proudly, hands placed firmly on his hips. They rest right at the spot where skin turns to scale, where the silver starts to line the lower half of his body. “It’s because I have the ocean to cool me down.”

Before you can say anything in response, Jimin is grabbing hold of your outstretched arm and tugging you into the water, cotton t-shirt and shorts and all. You can only get out a brief gasp before your head is submerged by salt water, Jimin’s fingers never leaving your wrist, not even as you come up for air. He keeps a firm grip on you, something that you are thankful for, considering you were never the greatest swimmer. Sure, you can keep yourself afloat for a little bit, but your stamina is weak and your skills in the water are even weaker.

“Feeling better?” He asks, giggling. You can’t help but allow a smile to force its way across your lips. “You are always staying on that rock. Why? Why not dig your toes into the soft sand or wade in the water? You are at the beach, after all.”

You grimace. “The beach and I are not the fondest of each other,” you admit. “I’m not the biggest fan of the beach, surprisingly enough.”

“But you come and visit me,” Jimin says, looking at you innocently.

“Maybe I’m just a fan of you,” you joke, even though your words ring truth. Jimin really is the only reason why this vacation hasn’t turned into a “stay in the house curled up in the dark with the air conditioning blasting while marathoning various comedies” cation. Because when you first got here, your only plans for the next month were exactly that. And now, every day you wake up looking forward to what will happen next.

Sometimes things change. Sometimes people are the reason behind those changes, but sometimes merpeople are the reason behind those changes.

“I’m honored,” Jimin responds.

You nearly slip under the waves, grasping blindly for Jimin’s arm in desperation. You accidentally brush against his torso, buff and strong. “Ah, sorry,” you say nervously as he reaches out, a hand coming to hold onto your own. “I’m not the best swimmer. Never have been, really.”

“Does that have anything to do with your disdain for the beach?” Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow knowingly.

You shrug guiltily.

“Well, I’ll teach you,” Jimin says firmly, like it’s an order, not a choice. “You can learn from the best.”

“You’d probably crush Michael Phelps in a swimming competition,” you say.

“Who is that?”

“Never mind. Teach me, fish boy,” you say playfully, swatting some water his way. It hits his hair, little droplets decorating each strand like snowflakes along branches. His hair isn’t damp, per se, just shimmery. Everything about him glows in this ethereal sort of way. Like he’s not even a physical being, just light. Just the embodiment of light.

“Hold onto me,” Jimin says, holding his arms out for your to grab. Admittedly, denim shorts and a cotton shirt aren’t the best clothes to go swimming in, and you’re just thankful that your phone wasn’t in your pocket when he pulled you into the water, but you try to your best to hold onto him, the waves soft and gentle. Jimin floats effortlessly in the water, not even needing to bat his singular flipper to stay above the surface. “Come on, I don’t bite.”

Your shaky hands grab hold of his wrists, curling your fingers around his skin as your eyes meet. He’s close, closer than you think you’ve been in a while. You try and keep your eyes trained on the water, watching as the waves brush against your bodies, finding it easier to stare at something inanimate than something real, than him.

“Y/N,” Jimin says softly, making your eyes dart up to him instinctively. “Look at me.”

With a deep breath, you do, allowing your eyes to fall victim to the pool of wonder that resides in his own.

“Okay,” Jimin begins, making sure to never let go. “Start kicking.”

You begin to move your feet, accidentally making obnoxiously large splashes that hit the both of you with little warning, making you close your eyes in shock.

“Not that much,” Jimin says, but it sounds fond. He laughs at your hesitance. “Come on, again. You can do it.”

You try once more, paying extra close attention to the way your feet move against the waves. Slowly, you build up a rhythm, finding yourself floating horizontally, perpendicular to Jimin’s upright body. You can feel his gaze, practically burning a hole right through you, but it doesn’t feel like a watchful eye, a glaring teacher. It feels like him. Just him, really.

Once Jimin sees that you’ve got a pretty good hold on the kicking part, he begins to move backwards, leading you further and further from the shore. When you realize that you can’t see the sea floor, you panic slightly, movements faltering as your grip on him tightens. You don’t think you’ve ever been out this far, never in your youth feeling that inclined to go further than five feet from the edge of the beach before.

“I got you,” Jimin promises, when he notices your fear. “Don’t worry,” he says, voice gentle, like the waves that you follow. “I got you.”

Even though his words are soothing, you are, admittedly, still a bit frightened. After all, as Lisa said, humans have only explored five percent of the ocean. There’s a whole world out there yet to be discovered. Jimin is merely proof of that fact.

“I won’t let go,” Jimin says, like a father teaching his child how to ride a bike. “Just keep kicking.”

You follow his instructions, trying to keep your focus on him rather than the deep blue below you. You hate the uncertainty of not being able to put your feet on the ocean floor, hate the way that they search for something to stand on but come up short.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he tells you, letting go of one of your hands to tilt your gaze towards him. “Don’t worry about what’s below. It won’t hurt you. Just focus on me,” Jimin says, promising.

True to his word, Jimin doesn’t let go of you, even as he begins to lead you back to the shore, where your faithful rock lies waiting for your return. You’ve stopped dwelling on the unknown, focusing on the known, on the way Jimin’s eyes don’t leave yours, on the way his plump lips glisten from the moisture.

“You did it,” Jimin says as you pull yourself back on the rock, shaking your head as a means of wringing your hair out. It’s highly ineffective. “See, swimming’s not so bad.”

“I guess not,” you say hesitantly. “Still don’t know how I feel about the beach.”

“Well, I’m here, doesn’t that make it better?” Jimin asks curiously, tilting his head.

“Yes, I suppose it does,” you tell him, partly just to play along with him, but partly because it’s true.

Maybe you still hate the beach. Maybe you hate the way the sand feels between your toes, hate the way that there are no trees so the sun beats down on you with all the force it’s got. Maybe you hate how the saltwater tastes on your tongue, and the way that the sea can so quickly turn into this vast mass of unknown.

But at least you have him.

The next day follows the same pattern of seeing Lisa only for five minutes in the morning before excusing yourself from the house, excitedly making your way to the cove to see what new things Jimin will bring to you.

This time, he’s got with him a necklace.

“Do you not know what that is?” You ask as you point to the offending object as he tosses it between his fingers, fiddling with the beads. It’s beautiful—a small gold charm in the center surrounded on both sides by more beads of the metal. It looks expensive, like the kind of necklace you imagine would be tossed off of an ocean liner in the early 1900’s by some wealthy heiress letting go of an old lover from her past. And, despite what you assume to be decades of wear and tear from the salt of the sea, it looks almost brand new.

“I do,” Jimin says, examining the jewelry. “It’s a necklace, is it not?”

“Yes, that’s what it looks like,” you say. Today, you remembered your swimsuit, and so you will be daring and sit in the sand, letting the waves wash over you every now and then. It lets you look at Jimin face to face, rather than gazing down at him from your spot on the rock. “Where did you find it?”

“Namjoon found it in one of our caves,” Jimin says, eyes trained on the metal. “He was going to bring it to the lab to study, but I asked if I could have it.”

“Your friend studies humans?”

“He’s fascinated by them,” Jimin informs you. “Thinks it’s wondrous, how a species of animals can be so intelligent yet so blind to the way that they are slowly destroying their own habitats. He really likes looking into that sort of stuff.”

You never realized how truly bizarre humans were until Jimin put it into perspective like that, how humans are observed by a creature of equal intelligence that they don’t even know exists. It does seem strange, the way that the human race is letting their world decompose right in front of them without making any effort to prevent it. Because not only does it affect you, but it affects other animals. And merpeople, like Jimin, who have no choice but to sit back and let it happen right in front of their eyes.

“How does he get his information if you aren’t allowed up to the surface?”

“We’re allowed up to the surface, we just aren’t supposed to near land that humans inhabit,” Jimin says. “I am… a bit of a rulebreaker.”

“You and me both.” You sigh. “Why did you bring up this necklace?”

“It’s for you,” Jimin says, finally looking up to meet your eyes. He’s spent the entire time thus far focused on the necklace he’s fiddling with between his fingers.

“What? What do you want me to do with it?” You ask.

“Wear it,” Jimin says.

“Oh, no, Jimin, I can’t—”

“Why not?”

“That thing’s probably a hundred years old! It must be incredibly expensive, really, I can’t—”

“Gold has no monetary value in the sea,” Jimin says, holding it out. “We do not use it as currency nor do we find it to be particularly valuable. There are lots of gold trinkets down there. They will not miss this one thing. So it is for you.”

He swims closer, tugging you deeper into the sea so you can rest in front him. Your feet just barely reach the ground at this point, but Jimin makes sure to keep you close, even as he loops the necklace over your head, clasping it at the back of your neck. It feels delicate. It feels expensive.

“Jimin, I really—”

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin says, refusing to take no for an answer. “Keep it. It is for you.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, looking down at it.

“So are you.”

Taken aback, you glance from the necklace to the way Jimin is staring at you. His eyes are filled with wonder normally, but right now, even more so, like there are stars that swirl in his irises. He looks at you like you are all he can see. You’re frozen in place, hands still holding onto the chain of the necklace as you watch him. Slowly, he leans in, closer and closer until—

Splash!

Jimin whips his head around to be greeted by another boy, one that looks just a little bit younger than him. He’s got dark tousled hair, much like Jimin’s, and big eyes that seem to overwhelm his face.

“Jimin!” The boy cries.

“Jungkook,” Jimin says in response, clearly surprised at the intrusion. “What are you doing up here?”

“Seokjin is looking for you,” Jungkook says. “He needs you down by the coral.”

“Jungkook, I’m a little—”

“Are you with the human again?” Jungkook asks, eyes widening even further as you come into view. “Jimin, you know you’re not supposed to be up here anymore. It’s dangerous. You can’t interact with them.”

“You don’t know anything, Jungkook,” Jimin says coldly, obviously hurt.

“Namjoon’s warned you before, Jimin,” Jungkook says, ignoring the way his face curls up in guilt. “You can’t be around humans. It doesn’t matter if they’re kind, or sweet, or friendly. They hurt us.”

“Jungkook—”

“Come back down soon. Seokjin’s looking for you,” Jungkook says, and with another splash and a flash of a bright blue tail, he disappears below the waves.

Jimin looks distraught, to say the very least.

“Listen, Jimin,” you say, quickly making your way back to the shore. “If we’re not supposed to be doing this, then we shouldn’t. I don’t want to put you in danger of anything. You shouldn’t get hurt because of me.” With a certain speed to your actions, you quickly grab your cover up along with all of the items you brought with you, shoving them into your bag.

“No, Y/N, please,” Jimin says, voice pleading. “Don’t listen to him. He’s wrong, he’s got it all wrong.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Jimin,” you insist, already gathering your things and making to leave. “You don’t deserve that.”

“He thinks humans are bad, he thinks they’ll hunt us, kill us, eat us. Treat us like objects in a museum, glorified make-believe,” Jimin continues, refusing to go down without a fight. “He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know the real you, just thinks you’re a human using me as a means to gain access to the entire merpeople population. He doesn’t know how sweet you are, how selfless you are, how your eyes light up when you’re talking about something you love, or the way your laughter rings out throughout the cove.”

“Jimin—”

“Please stay,” Jimin begs. “You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t. You just have to trust me.”

“What if something happens, Jimin?” You ask in response.

“Nothing will happen. Please, just stay.”

Torn between wanting to go, wanting to prevent him from any harm that may come his way, and wanting to stay, to relish in the brightness of his smile for just a little bit longer, you pause. You’d never forgive yourself if he got hurt because of you, but you’d never be able to stop thinking about him, even if you never saw him again.

“For a little longer,” you say, making Jimin sigh in relief. “Your friend needs you.”

“He can wait,” Jimin says carelessly. “He always needs me for his ridiculous endeavors. Once, he made me follow him around for an entire day just so he could find out if one of the mermaids was following him around. He thinks he’s hot stuff.”

“Ooh, now I want to meet this guy. See if he is as attractive as he thinks he is,” you say jokingly, but Jimin doesn’t seem to get it. His lips curl into a pout at the mention of you wanting to meet his friend, protesting. “Relax, I’m kidding. You’re the only merman in my life.”

“I should very well hope so,” Jimin says,

“What was your friend talking about? The one that came up?” You ask, curious. Jimin’s friend—Jungkook, you think his name was—had not failed to mention numerous times the danger that humans pose to merpeople. You understand why, but you want to know how those stereotypes came to be. How did merpeople just simply come to realize that it would be better for the safety of their population for humans to live their lives without knowing that there was another civilization, right beneath their feet? “About humans.”

“Oh, that,” Jimin says.

“Why do you think we would hurt you?”

Jimin sighs, like it’s something that’s a sore subject. “Because you have.”

“Oh, Jimin, I’m—”

“I know you humans have that one fairy tale, the one of the mermaid who wants to marry the prince but then he gets married to someone else and she dissolves into sea foam—”

Not the fairy tale you’re used to, but alright. Hans Christian Andersen did always have a thing for morbid stories.

“—but stuff like that happens. Obviously, no human has discovered us and then wanted to abuse our world for your ridiculous scientific research, but merpeople have fallen in love with humans, and vice versa. And every time, the human turns out to be a trap, just someone wishing to know the secrets of the ocean, have expensive gifts bestowed upon them by someone who knows no better, for their own selfish purposes,” Jimin says sadly. “Jungkook’s right. And so is Namjoon. It’s too dangerous for a merperson to fall in love with a human, for they can never be together. The merperson starts to devote their entire life to the human’s existence, and becomes dependent upon them, which is their own personal form of torture, as it is impossible for a merperson to transform into a human.”

“Not even with true love’s kiss?”

Admittedly, it is a pretty hopeless romantic-esque question for you to ask. You’ve never been one for romance like that, love at first sight and all of that nonsense, but you have to know. Disney fairy tales play up the notion of true love’s kiss like the life of the company depends on it, but you cannot deny the strength of love in its purest form.

Jimin chuckles, endeared by your innocence, your hopefulness. “Not even that. Magic doesn’t exist in the mer-world, no matter how much you want it to. We are as human as you, only without the legs.”

“That’s so sad,” you say softly, wondering what has happened to all of the merfolk out in the world who have fallen tragically in love with a human, only to be left with a broken heart and an unstoppable dependence on them. Sounds like a nightmare. You understand why Namjoon and Jungkook are warning Jimin to stay away. You’d be devastated if that happened to him.

“The lack of legs or the hopeless devotion?”

“Both. But mostly the hopeless devotion,” you tell him. “What… what happened to the ones that fell in love?”

“They had their hearts broken. Merpeople are very emotional creatures, so a broken heart can often spell doom. It’s common, when a tragic love between a human and a merperson occurs, for the merperson to die.”

“I thought you said magic wasn’t real,” you say.

“It’s not. That’s just life.”

You’re taken aback by his statement.

“I’d never forgive myself if that happened to you, Jimin,” you tell him firmly, looking him dead in the eyes. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I lose you.”

“You won’t lose me, Y/N,” Jimin promises. “I’ll always be here. We’re friends.”

The unwavering tone of his voice says more than his words ever could. And all you can do is tell yourself that you won’t be like those other humans, that you won’t lead him on and abuse his innocence and break his heart. That is a promise.

“You were out the entire day, Jesus Christ,” Lisa says when you arrive back at the house. She’s in nothing but shorts and a bikini top, pulling out a popsicle from the freezer. “What were you and lover boy doing?”

“He is not my lover,” you insist, feeling the heat creep up on your cheeks.

“Well, if he’s not your lover, then can I at least get a name?” She asks, sitting down on the couch where you’ve plopped all your shit. A popsicle seems very enticing after a long day of ignoring your grumbling stomach in favor of spending as much time with Jimin as possible.

“Jimin,” you say softly. You have to be careful with what you say here, especially considering the history humans have with merpeople, and the history that Lisa has with secrets. You love her, and you know that she means well, but she has this terrible habit of accidentally letting secrets fly loose like it’s nobody’s business. When, in fact, it happens to be a quite a lot of people’s business. So there’s that. “His name is Jimin.”

“That’s a cute name,” Lisa says, pointing her popsicle towards you for good measure.

“Yes, it is,” you happily agree, sitting down next to her with an orange creamsicle in your hand. The heat is already causing it to melt all along the protective napkin you are using for this very thing.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Lisa says, biting into the popsicle with her two front teeth like the heathen she is. You don’t know how she does it, because when your front two teeth hit anything cold it feels like a numbing pain is rushing through your entire body via your bloodstream. “What were you two doing together?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say shyly.

“‘Nothing’ my ass, you had to have been doing something,” she says, frowning. “You were out the whole day! I had to go and pick up my mom’s Louis Vuitton boots by myself because you were busy frolicking or whatever it is that you do! They are cute boots, by the way. I’m probably going to steal them for a night when she’s not looking.”

“We just walked around the pier for a little, went into town for a bit. Got ice cream,” you quickly make up. It sounds like the most cliché date possible, but how much cheesier can your life get now that there’s a fucking merman in the picture?

“Aw, that’s so cute,” Lisa says, swooning. “He sounds like a very nice guy if that’s what you guys did. Boys don’t appreciate the simplicity of dates where you just walk and talk. Like, they let me get to know you as a person in a casual public setting where I am free to be myself and not be judged. What’s not to like? A little word of advice: if a boy is trying to take you to a fancy restaurant on the first date, then he’s hiding something.”

Even though Jimin definitely didn’t take you out to some high-end restaurant, he most certainly was hiding something himself. You just had to take a close enough look to figure out what it was.

“Yeah, it was nice. He’s really nice,” you say, expression growing fond at the the mere thought of Jimin, laughing, talking, swimming.

“Shut up!” Lisa exclaims randomly. Your eyes widen. “Shut up!”

“Lisa, what the fu—”

“Shut the fuck up, you need to marry this man right now immediately. Sorry, I don’t make the rules,” Lisa says, interrupting all conversation. It’s unclear what on earth she’s referring to until you feel her delicate, soft hands grabbing at your neck, and then you remember the necklace. Looking down, you see her eyeing it like she eyes her Super Mario Odyssey game after finding another moon, or whatever those things are called. “Did he buy this for you?”

You nod, not really knowing how else to explain the fact that Jimin found this century-old necklace at the bottom of the ocean and decided to give it to you. It kind of ties in with the minor, unimportant tidbit of information that he is a merman. There would be lots of unpacking to do if Lisa found out. Oh god, so much information.

“It’s gorgeous!” Lisa cries, fingers glossing over the metal. “This looks like it’s just pure gold. Like, not even the fake kind of gold. God, this must have cost an arm and a leg. You have to marry him instantly so that way you can repay the debt you owe him with your ardent, passionate love. It is the only way.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You ask fondly, more to yourself than anything else. Jimin could have probably picked a really ugly, gaudy necklace that was probably dropped down to the bottom of the ocean, but instead he chose this one, a delicate little thing that feels as though if you were to drop it, it would break. Shatter, into a million pieces.

“It’s stunning. I’m pretty sure it costs more than this entire house. And probably Brad’s family’s entire worth. Pure gold is incredibly difficult to come by. I need me a sugar daddy like that,” Lisa laments.

You gasp, slapping her on the chest in indignance. “He is not my sugar daddy! He is around my age!”

“Not all sugar daddies are in their fifties,” Lisa informs you pointedly, as if that’s commonly-known information and you are just behind the times. “Besides, I wonder how I’ve never heard of this kid if he’s rich enough to be dropping six figures on a necklace for a pretty girl like you. I know all the rich people. I am rich people.”

“He lays low,” you say awkwardly, hoping Lisa doesn’t look too into this. Jimin does lay low. In fact, so low that it is actually below sea level. Because he is a merman.

“Clearly. Damn, you really lucked out, Y/N,” Lisa says, standing up with purple all across her lips and a bare popsicle stick in front of her. She doesn’t even bother to read the shitty pun that’s stamped along the side. What a monster. “He sounds like a real catch, this Jimin kid.”

You nod, twirling the necklace in between your fingers. “He is.”

Lisa’s insistence is both a blessing and a curse. She’s awful good at getting what she wants when she wants it, probably a rich kid side effect, but she is also incredibly persistent even at the worst times, refusing to give up or keep calm until she’s satisfied. Sometimes, when you watch her sneakily convince her parents to let her borrow the family limousine, or worm her way out of an unwanted blind date with some stodgy billionaire’s even stodgier son, you admire the quality.

Other times, like when she is practically tugging on your arm, right about to pull it straight from its socket, not so much.

“Please,” Lisa begs, pleading with a pout and puppy dog eyes, the whole nine yards. When she whips out the eyes, you know she means business. “You have to.”

“Lisa—”

“You’ve ditched me almost every day since we got here for this guy, the least you could do is introduce me. I mean, I probably know him anyway since he’s filthy rich. Wish I snagged him while he was still available,” she pleads, ethos, pathos, and logos-ing her way to victory. Damn, she’s good.

You should know that by now, really. Not a single time have you ever not fallen victim to Lisa’s skills of persuasion.

“I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. “He’s pretty busy these days—”

“If he can spare like, three weeks to just spend with you then he can spare a couple hours to meet your loving, doting, wealthy but kind best friend,” she insists. “I mean, he owes me anyway for snatching you away from me this entire time. We’ve been here for almost the full month and I don’t think I’ve gotten to spend a full day with you since the party. It’s really the least he could do.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Please? What’s the worst that could happen?”

You find out that he’s a merman, scream so loudly you alert the authorities, and then they discover him, his friends, and the entire mermaid population, capture them all and bring them to terrible research facilities to undergo all sorts of experiments, like lab rats, you think. Or maybe just Lisa finding out Jimin’s a merman and scaring him off. That would be as equally devastating.

“I’ll have to ask him first. But okay,” you say hesitantly, hoping that it will do to calm her down for a while. She’s been on your back about this the entire morning thus far.

Two hours later, you’re meeting Jimin the cove once more. This time, to hope he gives the okay for Lisa meeting him. You know that once the message comes across, she would never dare reveal their secret. Lisa might be a bit of a talker, but she knows when and where to keep her mouth shut.

“Hey,” Jimin says softly, simply happy just to see you again.

“Hey there, stranger,” you respond.

“What’ll it be this time? A new food? A technological device? A book?” He asks, listing through only some of the various things you’ve brought to him over the past couple of weeks, hoping to teach him everything you can about the strange things humans think up. Like magic, right at their fingertips.

“A question, actually,” you say, leaning over the rock to meet his eyes. “What would you say if my friend wanted to meet you?”

“Is this Lisa?” Jimin asks, interest piqued.

“Yeah, her. She figured out that I was… seeing someone because she has scary psychic powers and now she wants to meet the person who stole away her best friend for the summer,” you tell him, hoping that the explanation is enough.

“Oh,” Jimin says, looking regretful. “Tell her that I’m sorry I stole you away. I didn’t mean to,” he says apologetically.

“She wants you to pay her back by letting you meet her,” you tell him tensely, clenching your teeth together as you smile, feeling guilty for something that isn’t even your fault.

“I’m already breaking about a million merfolk rules by continuing to see you,” Jimin says, visibly unsure. “I don’t know if this is the best idea.”

“I don’t want to pressure you into this, Jimin. But I can tell you that, as her best friend, I know she wouldn’t tell anybody. She’s trustworthy,” you say, knowing your voice is borderlining on pleading but not doing anything to scale it back. “And it’ll only be for a little bit. She knows when and when not to invade in my personal life.”

Jimin’s too soft for his own good. Jimin’s too kind for his own good. Jimin’s too selfless for his own good. “Okay. But just for a little, alright? I know that I’m being hunted down by Yoongi and I think that out of all of my friends, he’s the one who you definitely don’t want to meet.”

“Noted. She’ll probably come down now?” You ask, already pulling out your phone and texting Lisa, telling her to come to the cove. “She might freak out, I’m sorry.”

“You freaked out when you saw me for the first time,” Jimin says, reminding you of your stammering and swearing when you first realized that the man skinny dipping in the ocean was actually a merman.

You frown at him. “Good. You’ll be used to it.”

Soon enough, your phone is buzzing with messages from Lisa, the majority of which say: I’m by the bridge. I’m @ bridge. Where r u. I’m waiting at the bridge. Have you bamboozled me?

She’s a quintuple texter.

“I’m gonna go and fetch her,” you tell Jimin, who has been waiting patiently in the water for the past five minutes. You sat together in silence, but it was the peaceful kind. The kind that lets your mind to declutter itself, to think and dream and wonder.

“Hey!” Lisa says loudly when she sees you jogging up to her. “I didn’t realize you were already here.”

“Yeah, this is where Jimin wanted to meet you,” you inform her.

“Kinda sketch, don’t you think? It’s a very private spot to meet. What if he’s a saxophone-playing serial killer who leaves messages in music notes? He could murder us both and throw our bodies into the sea and boom! That would be the end of our vacation.”

“I wouldn’t have to pay off my college debt,” you reason.

“Fair enough. Alright, take me to meet this mysterious rich boy who’s somehow charmed the pants right off of you,” Lisa says, holding out her hand like a princess as you guide her across the bridge and towards the water, where Jimin waits.

When she sees him, she turns to you, obviously bewildered. “In the water? Put a shirt on, Mister!” She cries as she turns to Jimin. “This is public indecency.”

“We’re in private and he’s swimming,” you say, laughing to yourself. Lisa’s always put herself out there for the world to see, and she doesn’t care what other people think. “Anyway, uh… this is Jimin.”

Jimin holds out his hand, probably having learned the custom from Namjoon’s human studies. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“You too, dude,” Lisa says, leaning forward to shake his hand, and that’s when she sees it. You can tell, because her eyes grow impossibly wide and she practically jumps right out of her own skin at the sight. “Holy mother of Jesus! What the fuck?”

“Surprise?” You say, wincing as you look at her. She’s got this wild expression in her eyes, the same that you have after getting off of a hectic rollercoaster, still reeling from the ride.

“You never mentioned the fact that lover boy was a merman!” She shrieks, pushing you gently as she leans back down to look at Jimin. “That explains a lot, actually.”

“You’re not mad?” You ask.

Lisa shrugs nonchalantly. “Why would I be mad? This is kind of a big deal. I mean, for you, dating is one thing. But a merman? Damn. I don’t even think I have that in me.”

You and Jimin share an awkward glance. “We’re not… dating. Just friends.”

Lisa looks dubious at best. She stares down at your chest, right where the necklace lies, shimmering in the sunlight. “Huh.”

“Yeah,” Jimin adds, tentatively placing himself into the conversation. “Just friends.”

Lisa looks at you like you’ve lost every single marble you had in the first place, and then some. “Are you sure about that?”

“Lisa, really—” You ask, hoping that the look on her eyes will be enough of a hint for her to drop the topic. You and Jimin, well, you don’t really know where your relationship stands. On thin ice, maybe. After all, you’ll never forget the words Jimin used to warn you of what happens to merpeople that are unfortunate enough to fall in love with a human. And you will do everything physically possible under the sun to prevent that from happening to him.

“Fine, fine, it’s whatever,” she says, getting the message loud and clear. You have a feeling you’ll be hearing more about this later. “But this is really cool. I didn’t even know merpeople existed!”

“A lot of people don’t,” Jimin says, half joking, half serious.

“You can’t tell anyone, you know,” you say, warning Lisa with a stern expression on your face. “Merpeople have gone for hundreds of years without humans knowing of their existence. We can’t ruin that.”

Lisa nods, a hand coming up in salute. “Aye aye, captain. Don’t worry about it, Y/N. You know I’d never spill something like an entire hidden population right between our feet. You can trust me,” she promises, a soft hand coming to rest on your shoulder as an extra confirmation. You nod. You know that she would never betray you like that.

The rest of the hour that Jimin has time to spare, Lisa interrogates him like a mad man. But not on merman things, strangely enough, though it does come into conversation every now and then. She asks him normal things, like what his favorite food is, and what he likes to do in his spare time, and how he would describe his friends. Things people put on their dating profiles. Not things that treat him like a scientific discovery, like an object to be stared and ogled at.

“How well will you treat Y/N?” Lisa asks firmly, staring straight into Jimin’s soul. She has a habit of doing that a lot. You gasp in shock at the blatant nature of her question, smacking her gently in order to tell her to knock it off. She shrugs you away.

Jimin looks from Lisa, to you, and then back to Lisa. And then, he smiles. “Like she is the sun that makes this world go round.”

“Are you sure you’re not dating? It looked pretty date-y to me.”

“I’m sure.”

Lisa scoffs.

“Ready for another swimming lesson?”

“That was not what I signed up for when I showed up here, you know,” you say pointedly as you plop your tote bag on the rock, watching as several of the items (junk) you have in your bag spill out over the edge. Typical.

“Too bad, because it’s what you’re getting!” Jimin exclaims, and he’s grabbing onto the middle of your shin, wading in the water, pulling you in with him. You don’t even have your bathing suit on.

“Jimin!” You exclaim as loudly as possible, before the sound of your voice is muffled by the ocean as you find yourself submerged for a brief second. The water is salty on your tongue and it makes your eyes burn, but you love the sensation nonetheless. Coming up for air, you see Jimin beside you, giggling. He has this awfully guilty look on his face. “Oh, you’re in for it now!”

Without another word, you’re flinging yourself towards him, tackling him head on as the two of you come crashing down into the waves again. It has little effect on the merman, since he lives his entire life in the water and is thus immune to its splash-war purposes, but he screams in excitement nonetheless. You try to ignore the way your heart thumps as you come into contact with him, palms pressed firmly on his toned chest, ignore the way his soft skin feels to the touch. Jimin smiles, and the whole world ceases to exist.

“You think that’s good enough?” Jimin asks when the both of you pop your heads above the surface. You shake your head in response, letting water droplets fly from your skin and hair and hopefully onto Jimin. “I’m a merman, Y/N. I’m invincible to your attacks!”

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try!”

With that, you send a furious splash his way, dousing him from head to, well, tail. He grimaces, curling inward at the feeling of the lukewarm droplets hitting his tanned, warm skin, but that doesn’t stop him from retaliating. Almost instantly he splashes you in return, making you shout with laughter. You can only hope that nobody from the public beach can hear you.

It’s back and forth like that until your arms are weak and your stomach aches from laughing, Jimin and you fighting each other like men on the battlefield, vigorously splashing each other. Both of you refuse to go down without a fight, cackling loudly when you get a hit on the other person.

You can’t remember the last time you had this much fun with a boy. Scratch that, actually, you can’t remember the last time you had this much fun, period. Jimin swears he possesses no magic but somehow every day is brighter when you are near him, the moment he opens his mouth and a melody comes out. He is enchanting and enthralling and everything in between. It’s getting harder and harder to stay away.

Jimin pulls that nasty little trick where he taps you on one shoulder when really, he’s standing behind the other. You’d think, after years of falling for it, throughout elementary, middle, and high school, you’d finally learn, but still, you turn around to find the source of the touch, and that’s when he nabs you.

With a cry, you feel yourself getting pushed backwards, hitting the sand roughly. You’re lying in the part where the sand is damp but firm, and waves brush up by your ears but don’t go much further. On top of you is Jimin, as beautiful as always.

“Got you,” Jimin says cheekily, resting atop you with his hands pushing up his upper body, pressing into the land on either side of your head. You can’t help but bring your own palms to brush against his skin. “You’re gullible.”

“I always fall for that trick,” you admit shyly. “You’re not special.”

He pouts. “Am I not?”

Slowly, you trail your hand up from his chest until your finger pokes his nose, making him scrunch up his face. “Got you,” you echo.

Jimin grins. It’s so difficult to look away, to tear your gaze from where it falls in his own. The sea is deep, unexplored, unknown, but his eyes are what you would prefer to discover. What ocean lies beneath the brown of his irises, what more is there to find? He practically radiates under the light, giving off an aura of love and laughter and happiness. As cheesy as it is, this merman is the making of your wildest dreams. There is plenty to learn about Jimin’s people, about the merpeople world that humans know nothing about, but all you wish to explore is him.

Without even realizing it, Jimin finds himself leaning closer and closer, tempted by the way your lips shine from the water, the way your eyes lock with his own.

You chuckle awkwardly, pushing him away. "We should maybe stop," you suggest, offering him nothing but a tense smile. "Don't want anything to happen."

Jimin looks surprised, almost disappointed. "Right, right, that would be kind of bad."

"You know I don't want anything to happen to you, right?" You ask him, hoping that he'll understand. Understand why you can't let this go any further, why you should just stay as friends. Even if it's what you want as well, it's too dangerous.

"I know," Jimin says, and he forces another smile on his face. It doesn't reach his eyes. "You sound just like Namjoon. And my mom."

"I'm sure they care very much about you," you tell him sagely. You make an attempt at dusting off the sand that covers your body, but decide that the effort is fruitless. You were thrown into the sand while soaking wet. What else do you expect to happen? Instead, you decide to take refuge on the rock, where you know you'll be able to dry off easily.

"Don't you?" Jimin asks curiously, tilting his head. He's back in the water now, not exactly keeping his distance but not swimming too close either. Like he's overstepped a boundary and now he knows where he needs to remain. You hate that feeling. Hate this feeling of him drifting away like a piece of plywood, nothing more than a message in a bottle to be left unopened forever.

“Of course,” you say instantly. “More than you know.”

Jimin smiles, and perhaps it doesn’t meet his eyes but you can see the way his expression lightens ever so slightly, as if only a singular novel from a pile of books resting upon his shoulders has been lifted. There’s still something pressing him down, but at least the load is a bit lighter.

You bid goodbye not much later, this time without a promise to return on the edge of your lips. Perhaps it’s for the better if you keep your distance for a little while. Let the high-strung emotions calm down. Hope that they dissipate entirely.

Though, with the ache in your chest as you leave the cove, you’re not sure if they ever will.

Jimin watches as you leave, watches long after he knows you’re gone to do other human things. He can’t stop the way he falls in love, knowing fully well that this may very be the last thing he ever does. Namjoon’s warned him countless times but love is brutal, unstoppable, and leaves no stone untouched, And sure, you may be what causes his demise, but Jimin thinks that of all things, love is a particularly pleasant way to go.

He stays above the surface for a bit longer, today, unable to get his mind off of the way you were so close, the way your eyelids fluttered shut.

And then he sees him.

“I think this is the first day that you haven’t gone prancing off to be with your merman lover boy,” Lisa comments out of the blue as you collapse down on the couch, having made a stack of pity pancakes for the morning. Lisa’s digging into them as well, pouring an obscene amount of syrup on them before deeming them even remotely acceptable to consume.

“I need a day for myself once in a while,” you say, chowing down. “I’m only human.”

“A human who’s inexplicably befriended a fucking merman, of all people, while on a one month vacation to her best friend’s parent’s beach house while, oh, that’s right, hating the beach!” Lisa cries.

“Listen,” you tell her.

“I don’t understand you, sometimes,” Lisa says, shaking her head to herself as she takes another bite of her pancakes. Despite the fact that there are about seven stacked neatly, one on top of the other, she cuts her knife through the entire thing and eats the whole slice, like a cake. “Like, why aren’t you there today? Did something happen?”

“How do you know if you’re in love?”

Lisa nearly drops her fork on the marble floor, but instead it hits the couch cushion.

“You’re in love?” She asks, incredulous. “Now that’s something.”

“I don’t know if I’m in love, that’s why I’m asking!” You insist, but you know that she can see right through you. Perks of being your best friend. “How do you know?”

“Are you in love with him?” She asks, voice much quieter now. She’s stopped eating her pancakes, leaving them left untouched on her plate. “Are you in love with Jimin?”

“I don’t know,” you respond, tone equally soft. It’s hard now, to wonder a life without him. Wonder how this vacation might have been had you never even met him, never stumbled upon him on that fateful night in the cove.

Jimin makes you question everything you knew about life, everything you knew about the world as it was. Because Jimin takes the past and turns it into the future. He takes “what ifs” and turns them into reality. And he has taken you, and transformed your heart.

“You know,” Lisa says, interrupting your thoughts. She has this sure look on her face, an expression of absolute certainty. “I think that you know when you love someone when you realize that they have turned even your greatest dislikes into your most favorite things.”

If you had been asked a month ago how you would feel on your last day at Lisa’s vacation home, you probably would have said something along the lines of “relieved.”

But now, you feel anything but.

Keeping your distance from Jimin turned into avoiding him at all costs, staying holed up in your room or camped out on the couch, or marching through the streets and staying far, far away from the beach.

What would have happened to Jimin if you stayed?

You keep replaying that scene on the beach over and over. The way his hair looked with the sun shining down on it. His deep brown eyes, more wondrous than the ocean in its entirety. How he leaned over you, looked down and began to close the gap between your bodies, between your lips.

It’s a frightening thought, really. You don’t want Jimin to turn into another one of those warning stories, a message for other merfolk to stay far away. You want him safe, you want him secure. And if staying away is what will bring him that, then so be it.

That is what you will do.

“Ready to bounce?” Lisa asks, looking around the house one final time. “Until next year, beach house.”

You almost leave without saying goodbye.

“Just a second,” you say, fumbling to put your bag down as you dart out the door. You’ve ignored him for this long. The least you could do is say goodbye. Maybe, if you return next year, he’ll be there. It’s selfish to think of such a thing, to hope and pray that he will await your return faithfully when there are so many other things to be doing, so many other fish in the sea. But you have always been a particularly selfish girl.

You rush towards the cove, nearly tripping over a stone by the path that leads towards the bridge, when you find yourself stopped in front of somebody. They’re blocking the bridge.

It’s Brad.

“Y/N,” Brad says sternly, blocking off your path.

“Brad…” you say, practically in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s not safe here,” Brad says. “Go home.”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, perplexed. What has happened here? What’s going on? Is Jimin alright?

“There’s a merman.”

You gasp.

“Brad, what the fuck is wrong with you!” You say, grabbing onto his arm in a desperate attempt to pass through. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin—

“He’s dangerous, Y/N! He’ll hurt you!” Brad shouts, loud enough to have you curling into yourself in fright. You can barely see over him, but what you can make out when you step onto your tiptoes is a mop of red hair, fighting against two men in two burly uniforms.

“Let me through!” You screech, and you don’t know if it’s just sheer strength or the desperate urge to save Jimin from whatever those two men will do to him, but you manage to push past Brad and make your way into the cove.

Jimin looks like a nightmare. His hair is matted, knotted and stiff, and his breathing is heavy. The two men have got their arms looped around his own, dragging him out of the water and onto the shore. He fights them with all of the power that he’s got but he’s no match for their size and strength, doing nothing but panting as he wrestles to be released.

You wonder if this is what Namjoon was warning Jimin about, instead. Perhaps Namjoon already knew that this had gone too far, that something was bound to happen, and he was just trying to keep Jimin safe.

So were you.

“Jimin!” You cry, unable to do much else, knowing you could hardly compare to the two men dragging him from his home, his world

Jimin, through the bangs that cover his eyes and the heavy exhales that leave his lips, looks up at you. He sees you standing by the bridge, eyes wide in terror, and he relaxes. He knew you would come back. Jungkook wouldn’t believe him—insisted that you were done, that the heartbreak you had left him with was all you had ever intended on, but he knew that wasn’t you. He knew that you would return. And here you are.

“Y/N,” Jimin says, like it’s a breath of fresh air. Sure, he’s being beaten and pulled and tugged, but you are all he needs.

“Get off of him!” You’re shrieking, fighting against the officers taking him away. The efforts are fruitless but you’ll try nonetheless, give it all of your power and all of your might to prevent them from taking Jimin from his home, from taking Jimin from you. “You’re hurting him! Stop!”

“No can do, Miss. This here is a dangerous monster,” the one officer tells you gruffly, ignoring your pleas.

“He’s not a monster,” you say, leaning down to meet Jimin’s eyes. He’s tired and aching and sore, but the sight of you suddenly soothes his pain. “He’s just a boy. He’s another person, like you and I.”

“Miss, he has a tail.”

“So what?” You shout. “Who cares?” The men back off at your shouting.

“Y/N,” Jimin pants out your name through heavy breaths, feeling as though his chest is about to collapse in on itself. “Don’t. You’ll get into trouble—”

“Jimin, I won’t leave you here—”

“Just let them take me,” Jimin says, looking up at you. He catches a glimpse, in the light of it all, of the necklace around your neck. You haven’t taken it off ever since he gave it to you. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright!” You scream. “I’m not going to let them do this. You—”, hiccup, “—told me about what happens to merpeople when they fall in love, but I never figured out what happens when it’s the other way around.”

“What?” Jimin asks.

“I love you, Jimin,” you say softly. “Ever since the day we met. I have loved you.”

“That’s impossible!”

You turn your head to see Brad fuming a few steps away.

“He’s a monster, Y/N. How could you ever love someone like him?” Brad says, pointing an accusing finger Jimin’s way.

You stand in front of him, protectively. Brad may have hurt Jimin but he will not hurt you. “He’s not a monster, Brad. You are. Go fuck yourself.”

Jimin nearly doubles over in laughter.

“How dare you,” Brad says, looking more villainous by the second.

“I’d listen to her, if I were you.”

Suddenly, from behind Brad’s massive frame pops Lisa, who looks pleasantly surprised by the situation at hand. You and Jimin look equal parts like wrecks, you with tears still streaming down your face despite the smile dancing across your lips, and Jimin with bruises and splotches blossoming over his chest and face.

“Lisa!”

“Brad, did it ever occur to you that you are a Grade A Dickwad?” Lisa asks.

“How dare you,” Brad says again, seemingly the only phrase in his vocabulary. “I’ll have you know, I could ruin your life in an instant.”

Lisa cackles. “So? So could I. Brad, I don’t know about you, but I know a certain younger sibling who is more than happy to take over the family business in your place. All I have to do is send in a good word via my parents. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Try me. I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll marry her instead of you, just to rub it in. Now, how about that?”

You have never seen Lisa look more serious than in this moment. You’re proud of her. You really are. This is why she’s your best friend.

Brad, unable to come up with any responses despite his abnormally large head, stomps off angrily, like an immature twelve-year-old. The officers follow, albeit less childlike, leaving the three of you alone in the cove.

“Had it coming. God, that felt good,” Lisa says, taking a deep breath of satisfaction.

“Jimin, are you alright?” You ask, leaning down to help him back into the water. He adjusts instantly, body reacting positively at the feeling of the waves against his skin once more. “You’re hurt.”

“You’re in love with me,” Jimin breathes out.

“Jimin, seriously, you’re covered in bruises. We need to get you to a doctor.”

“You’re in love with me,” he repeats. “You. For real.”

You nod, smiling fondly. “I am. More than you know.” You reach over to tuck a stray strand back when he grabs your wrist, pulling you into the water beside him.

“Good,” Jimin says. “Because there’s no merfolk protocol for when a human falls in love with a merperson. Which means that I get to do this.”

Before you know it, Jimin is pressing his lips on yours, pulling you in with his palms on your cheeks. You gasp into the sensation before quickly melting into his touch, the heat of your bodies combining with the coolness of the water to create a tingling feeling. He tastes like saltwater, like tea, like oranges. He tastes like the stars.

“You guys are so fuckin’ gross, I’m living,” Lisa says as she watches fondly, proud of you.

“Just so you know,” Jimin says when you part. He wipes a drop of water from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I love you, too. I knew from the very first day that you would be the cause of my demise.”

“I’m touched.”

Jimin pulls you in for another kiss.

One Year Later

Brad’s a blabbermouth, but that’s okay.

Now that people are starting to realize that merpeople actually exist, they don’t know what to do with all this newfound information that has to be shared. And that is precisely why you changed your major, are studying to become a marine biologist, with a focus in merfolk studies, a blossoming area of research. Science was always your thing, anyway.

Not to mention the fact that you have a little help gathering your research from a few certain someones.

“Jump in!” Jungkook calls from below the cliff, waving at you from where you stand. Lisa’s down there too, somewhere, with her new girlfriend (she finally asked her out to that damn mini golf course). They’ve taken up residence of the beach house, and the place is all to themselves. “Come on!”

The rest of Jimin’s friends are there too, all having fun in their own way as they egg you on. It’s not even that big of a jump. Really, it’s more the fear that you will pull an epicly sad belly flop into the water and feel the consequences for the days following.

“Come on, babe!” Jimin calls. “The water’s great!”

Rolling your eyes, you take a deep breath and jump.

When you resurface, you notice Jimin swimming towards you with ease, wrapping you in his arms and doting on you like every loving boyfriend should.

“I knew you could do it,” Jimin says encouragingly.

“You guys are disgusting,” Yoongi tells you, frowning. You wonder if his navy blue tail attracts a lot of heat from the light.

“Put that in your human research study!” Jungkook shouts towards Namjoon, who then proceeds to pelt him with a small seashell in retaliation.

Truth be told, you have been particularly helpful with Namjoon’s research. He’s never dared speak to a human before you, but after countless reassurances from Jimin (and even Jungkook!), he finally decided that the sacrifice would be worth the scholarly output. And so, you tell him all about why humans litter, and how skyscrapers built, and why some people are at the top of their socioeconomic class and why others are at the very bottom.

But most of the time, you exchange information. For every factoid you give him, he gives you a tidbit in return. It’s only fair, really. Strangely enough, you sort of see yourself in him, studious and dedicated but easily tricked and a little bit clueless on certain occasions.

Jimin smiles as he pulls you in tighter into his arms. “Can’t believe I get you year round now, not just the summer.”

“Yup,” you say proudly. “The university just paid for my first month’s rent.”

You assume that your college thinks that maybe some down payments now will have massive benefits later, when your research of the merfolk population earns you a Nobel Prize, or something. But right now, you’re just going to milk every single penny they give you until it all runs dry.

“You’re stuck with me,” you tell Jimin like it’s a bad thing. He grins, the words music to his ears, and kisses you.

“Gladly,” he says.

⇒ hmu with feedback or talk to me here!

[hayleycanalscapstoneblog]

Journalism Research: Interview with Emily Allen from the Mountain State Spotlight

Hi, I don't know if I could hear you. Sometimes I have an issue with zoom where I don't get the other person's audio so if it doesn't pop up, I can always call you instead. Okay, wait, try now.

What about now?

Yeah, I can hear you.

Okay, good. Cool. Awesome.

Yeah. How are you doing?

Doing? Well, how are you?

I'm good. It's a little early for me. 

Yeah, it's weird. Like, I've never had to use interview questions written by somebody else. But because it's like a research project with a bunch of people. We're kind of like, given our blueprint for this. 

And what is this for your in your senior or your graduate? I'm a senior, and it's for my capstone class. So we're doing a big collaborative project, kind of to help us get an idea of what getting a job is going to be like, once we leave. 

Sure. Yeah. Big world. Yeah, for you. 

How long ago did you graduate?

Um, I graduated from the University of Minnesota like 2018. 

Okay, cool.

I'm glad I'm talking to somebody who was recently here. 

Yeah, no, it's still fresh in my mind.

Yeah. Are you from Minnesota?

No, we moved around a lot. But I did school up there. So I kind of stayed in the Midwest before I got my job in West Virginia.

Yeah, cool. I got you. Well, I'll jump into it, because they gave me a lot. But you don't need to like elaborate if it's a pretty basic question, just because, I mean, they really just gave me quite a list. And can I record?

Yeah, yeah, totally. Thanks for checking.

Yeah, in North Carolina, you like don't technically have to ask people. But whenever I'm talking to somebody out of state, I don't want to know, you know, I think just in general, too. It's good practice to let them know if you're on the record, you're recording. 

And it's an easy way just to be like, Can I quote you? 

Yeah, true. Yeah.

Yeah. The weirdest people will have like, you know, the need to say no, like, managers. Yeah. Well, apparently, if you work for Taco Bell, you can't do interviews. I found out so.

Okay. Yeah, that's a couple of corporations.

Anyways, so how would you classify the type of journalism you do? Would you say it's like watchdog journalism, civic journalism? I'm just curious what specification specification you give it.

Um, I think watchdog and civic are both good terms. I mean, I should clarify. So I've been here with balancing spotlight and since June, and it's a nonprofit, and I think both those adjectives work well for it. Yeah. But I daily newsrooms before it. So I always think, with the jobs that I've had, it's been a civic duty. But this is the first time that we've really, for me, done, you know, kind of the watchdog accountability, not just quoting people what they say. But following up and adding extra content and verifying.

That's really cool. And that's kind of the type of journalism I want to get into myself. So watchdog civic, nonprofit, more or less?

Yeah, I'm really bad at like the adjectives that come with this because I literally to paper radio and now, I'm in a nonprofit. I think all those are accurate and when there's like a description on our website, I mean, I, I do I think personally, my job is more community based to I don't know what that term. But I mean, it just goes beyond press releases and press conferences and basic interviews. Yeah, I don't know how to grab that. I'm probably not making sense.

No, that that totally makes sense. Yeah, yeah. I was talking to some people at the devil strip last year. And they're a co op, so very, like community based. And just got a strong sense of what that means for them. Like, knowing the readers in person created a lot of that meaning. So what motivates you to do this type of journalism?

Um, different things on different days, I think. I mean, right now with the job I have, so I'm kind of an out state reporter. I don't cover you know, Charleston, I go out like I was in Dodd Ridge County yesterday, which is extremely rural and farther north. And I think it's really just a, I like talking to people that I've never met before. I like dealing with strangers. I like, you know, learning new things. And even when the job gets really hard, and I'm asking really, like rough questions, and I'm dealing with, kind of hard to interview, you know, public officials, I think I always think back well, I wouldn't want to stop what I'm doing. Because tomorrow or next week, I'm going to go meet so and so or I'm going to go here this. I think it's that kind of a thing.

Yeah. So the base is like in Charleston?

Yes. Yeah, we don't have we're all on the boat for now, because they took off during a pandemic. And I've been here since June. But we're all in Charleston. Yeah. But we travel out for things as necessary. I'm traveling every week, so Okay, mileage is great. Yeah. Do they give you gas? Yeah, yeah, mileage we get reimbursed. So I used to work for public broadcasting. And it was the same way that you got a safe car. And it's kind of awkward, whatever works. on devices in the middle of nowhere where we can't get cell service or anything. to step up, yeah.

One of the one of the questions they were wanting us to ask is like, what other forms of journalism you've been involved with, and then like, kind of how long you've been out in the field. Just what that journey has looked like for you? 

Sure. Um, so I graduated in 2018. And immediately after that, like, I didn't even walk the stage. I just went to North Dakota, because I got a job at the Grand Forks Herald, which they're still daily, they stopped printing after I left, they do a Sunday edition and a Wednesday edition. But when I was there, they printed every day, which is like amazing, like just that, that that kind of thing can happen. I covered city government for Grand Forks, which is the city in North Dakota, but across the river, we had East Grand Forks in Minnesota, they also covered their government. And I helped with state house coverage, and sometimes regional stuff, but not a lot. I really just stayed where I land. And then I applied to report for America, which is what I still am in. And they hooked me up with a job in West Virginia, which is West Virginia public broadcasting. So I was full of yours, and I covered Southern West Virginia, sort of the same thing I'm doing now I'd go out there and then I also helped cover the State House. So the legislative session, the radio did well they put me on TV during the session, which wasn't great for me. So fun. And then this summer, my report for America term ended so two years, and I reapplied and got in here with the spotlight club and I'm doing less Statehouse coverage obviously it's I think what's really cool about us is we're not daily, so there's no paper to fill. There's no air show to fill. It's just the website, we do, I think we try to do like two to three stories a week. So it's regular content, you know, if something needs more time, or editors are pretty cool about understanding that and doing whatever it takes to better story out. I think what's also cool too is even though I'm just online exclusively, and that's sort of a thing, we let newspapers and radio stations and whatnot, republish our stuff for free. So sometimes, like I'm in a paper on the other side of the state and you know, I don't work with synthetically maybe.

Yeah, that's really cool. So, so like fully digital, with exceptions.

Yeah, I mean, it's up to that, like public broadcasting. They put a lot of our stuff on their website. I work with Douglas soul. He does a bunch of stuff, but he's mostly economic development. But he did this really big investigation into a sheriff's department in Rowan County, which is maybe an hour from here more rural, and their local paper ran it. So they give it an S run on our website, like people would have seen it, but maybe not a lot of people who live there. But because their paper chose to republish it, like that's something that their community is listening to and adhering to and talking about. Yeah, it was a tangent.

No, it's very interesting. So would you say you guys are local, or state level? 

Yeah, I think Well, I mean, I'm here's local journalists. But it is weird because I don't live in a lot of the communities that I'm going to so I'd say state level. Yeah. We I mean, we have a lot. A lot. We're a small team, but we cover Charleston's I guess it's kind of locally based. I think it just depends. But state probably more. So we're not like local, local, or local.

Yeah, I was working for app voices. And I think they have an office up there. But I felt the same way. Because it like feels sort of local, but then, you know, we're not actually reporting on like the town we're in, so much as a regional thing. Okay, so what what would what would you say your specialty is currently?

Um, you mean like skills or what we put out or like you're...

like the topic you report on.

I'm kind of all over the place. Just because not eat is like, I think they call me community watchdog or something. So really, I mean, I pay attention to city council meetings, county commission meetings from where I'm at, or I travel, and I kind of just whatever they're talking about, we'll dive into. And sometimes I'll take something that's happening on the state level, or something that someone else has covered. And I'll bring it into a community and cover what's happening there. So like, it's hard to just like, explain that way. But through by way of example, like we had the huge opioid trial against the three big distributors in Huntington, but it happened in Charleston. So that was, I mean, nationally renowned, the state level news story, but there are like, hundreds of other smaller West Virginia communities that have lawsuits, and nothing's happening to them. So we that story, and I went to Mingo. County, on the Kentucky border, West Virginia, though, and just talked to them about what the opioid epidemic looks like out there. So that kind of a thing, just is I kind of cover all sorts of things, but it just has to have a really community that's chosen.

Yeah, that makes sense. So which, like areas specific qualifications or like journalistic qualifications, would you say are important to have like, for your kind of job?

Um, a lot of things, I think. I mean, being able to, I mean, organizationally, I like I think being organized is important, and being able to plan and stick to the plan of what you're about to report. But I think in terms of reporting, I don't want to just say interviewing, because that's really broad, but like, you know, being able to, you know, knowing how to interview public officials and people who are supposed to serve the public and holding them accountable, but also knowing how to interview like normal people. Because I especially like in our newsroom, and I'm really like, down with this, including, just like regular West Virginians who are impacted about things or like, curious about things you're concerned about things is really important to our work. Because it's something that people can relate to. So I think it's really important to know, like, how to identify real people in a way that's not like exploitive, and like, there are tons of ways to do it. It just depends on the context, but also knowing how to talk with them and being respectful, but getting the best story that you can. Yeah. So in terms of interviews, I think those two things are important public records, laws, even a daily journalism, if you're just aware of that as an area, it's really important. I would still like the more that I ease into this job, the more I learned about public records laws and how that works, but I think it's important just to do whatever you can to get whatever information is out there. And different information from what you know, other outlets might be able to get just by resources. And I think it's not really a skill but something that's really, really important, especially if you're a statewide news organization covering local rural communities keeping up with local news, because even though it's like, strapped like there are tons of local papers still throughout West Virginia. So just taking like an hour or two every day, just to Know what's happening in places and keeping tabs on that. I think it's I don't know if it's a skill, but I think it's really important to any job but this kind of specifically.

Yeah, I feel like that'd be a good like qualification or like, just habit to have doing that kindof work. Do you count yourself as like part of the target audience of the newspaper?

Like, am I a reader for Mountain State spotlights?

Yeah, yeah. Or like would you be even if you weren't working for them? I think so. I mean, it's weird because like, they're extremely new and we just celebrated a year but I've only been here since June. So I was like, I don't know if they were targeting me, but I was a reader and I benefited from their coverage before I came over here. Sure. I think I mean, I think we just target like West Virginians. I think this whether it's to inform them or to let you know somebody living in a community know what's going on in that community.

Do you do like digital? multimedia yourself?

Um, yeah, I guess we I don't have a camera. Like I've been I've taken public broadcasting. We learned a little bit on photography. So it some of that. I think it's important to be able to have some kind of art company in your work, especially digitally. Sorry, I have a cat.

I got this cat at a gas station. rehabilitating her and she's great, but she likes to climb the window screens and she's not ready to get out into the real world.

Did you find her there?

Yeah, yeah, we found her at a gas station and just took her and I'm very fortunate that she's healthy and well, she had fleas. 

Via journalism, yeah, I mean taking photos, knowing what you're. And sometimes I think, especially if you're a reporter, and you're starting out, you don't have a lot of control about how your website looks like. So just knowing generally like small things that can make that more engaging, we're lucky we have a really, I think we have a really easy to follow a website, like local newspapers, despite like the quality of their work being really good, like, the websites can be really old. And it's just unfortunate because it's not as compelling or engaging to some people. But just knowing simple things that can make that look good. Like breaking up the copy with sub headers, like an easy headline, the kinds of sentences layout, I think that those things are important, too.

Yeah. So would you say your newsroom? is like, actively campaigning for more digital, like multimedia along with the work? Or is it just like if you can do it, go ahead and do it?

Like we? Yeah, I mean, I think it's a we're all pretty. Like we write we make sure we find our art, we come up with the headlines. Something, it's kind of like, it's a lot because nobody signs up for it. But it is really important. They can come up with our social media copy to like, what are tweets going to say a bunch of technical stuff, that I don't know the words, but like when you see an article on Twitter, like making sure that paragraph a little light one under it is it fits in it makes sense. And it's the accurate characters and with like Google searches, we already do that. And I think it's important because you don't have a paper to fill. It's not like this is the first place typically where people are going to see us. So making sure you can do all you can to build that out. Is is important to us. And it's been important since I started I don't think anybody's like fighting to do that. I mean, obviously better at the more time goes on.

Yeah. Okay, so to pivot away from Digital journalism. And kind of back to something you were saying earlier about, like representing just an ordinary people as well. Do issues of inclusivity and representation come up a lot in your work. 

Coverage?

Yeah, for coverage, or like, for, just like the general ethics of what the organization is trying to achieve? 

Yeah, I mean, it's so it's weird, just in general, because we don't have an office. So we meet regularly over, we don't have to, because we did have those conversations in my last two jobs. But I remember it was always something that happened in the physical workplace. It is, I mean, when we're individually, I guess, as a newsroom, that's not something that we haven't had a lot of that yet. But when I'm working on copy, and I assume like, I guess I can just be myself, when my editor is looking over something, and we're planning who we're going to reach out with, I think that comes up. And I think for any story. I mean, you want to talk to somebody who, you know, has a compelling story, and is going to be easy to read. And you know, obviously there's somebody worth quoting. But you also want somebody who's representative of what, you know, the thing you're counting on is so if it's like the opioid epidemic, you want to talk to somebody who's been dealing with substance use disorder, if it's like racial inequity, or inequality, like you want to talk to somebody who's on the other end of that you don't want to interview like, just a bunch of white people at like a Black Lives Matter protests. So sometimes, that's common sense. Because it's being you know, taught to us that it is something that when we're planning stories, we make sure to the best of our ability, and sometimes there's a time crunch. You know, to the best of our ability, we make sure we talk to people who are you know, can actually speak to what you're recording on, which is why I think that, you know, the importance of like, the like regular person is so important, because public officials can say they're doing whatever they want, solve these problems. I mean, they're not experiencing

Yeah. How do you? How do you make sure that you're humanizing people and not like tokenizing them?

I think that's a really good question that like, I get really anxious whenever I run a story with because it's super important to have regular people, but I'm also really scared. Like, and maybe this is like, thinking too highly of myself. But like, I've seen how you know, in daily journalism, if you're doing these crime stories, where you run some of these mug shots, and their name, years later, when they're doing well, they can’t get a job because of it, you know. Also Yeah, tokenizing is dehumanizing. I think it just, I mean, obviously, you want it to be a newsworthy story and something worth reporting on. So if it's a topic that's important, make sure the person that you're talking to, is fully aware of what you're going to say about them. Because they there's no reason to do gotcha journalism with a normal person. Um, but also make sure like when they're consenting, they know what they're consenting to. And like don't talk them out of like speaking with you, but How to like just, I don't know. So for the same Mingo county story with the opioid epidemic, I mean, we did talk to people who were in recovery from substance use disorder. And they work on this quick response team, like the language differs from state to state, but these are the people that you know, after an overdose happens. Typically they work for the health department or, you know, emergency response, and they go out there and they try to connect the person was overdosed and has been saved to like treatment options. So like a recovery home or inpatient, outpatient, and they just give them resources to keep up with them. So somebody in that team was dealing with recovery. And I mean, I was nervous, but I also felt confident speaking with her, but she was very well, but she was saying, and she'd done this, like, you know, interviews kind of before. And she's in a, you know, better place, and she's aware of what her name being out there means. So I just think it's important to have people like that I think something else that's really important that newsrooms at our newsroom like, I mean, I don't know if we're perfect because you know, he can sometimes you just have to be told you're doing it wrong to understand that so far, we're really good at people first language. And it really it just depends on when you're talking to someone how they wish to be described, but you know, you don't say, like an addict, you say somebody is dealing with addiction. Rather, you say somebody who's dealing with substance use disorder. It just depends. So speaking about people as people first, you know, when you're dealing with jails or prisons, like incarcerated, people aware, versus inmates, I think that's really important for treating people like and I don't know if like, readers who aren't dealing with this issue, notice that kind of stuff, but I think it does make a difference. And, I mean, it kinda reminds people that you're talking to people?

Yes, no, definitely really important. Yeah, I feel like I, I definitely noticed that in stories when I read them, for sure.

Have you personally encountered hate groups or hate speech? In your reporting or while reporting?

Oh, um, I have not. I mean, I think members of hate groups who sometimes you go to events and there but I have not had the opportunity to cover that. At this point. I know, people who have I know it sucks and their concerns, but that's not something that I have a lot of.

Do you think other watchdog journalists like? Is that something that they frequently would deal with? Or?

I think it depends. So I'm in reporting for America. And they are in for four or five of us in the state. I'm not sure. So most of those are in my organization here. There's one reporter in Morgantown where WVU is and he works for 100 days in Appalachia, which is another really good. They're good. They prefer to but he covers I think his beat specifically is white supremacy. But he's done, you know, he goes out and talks to the covers, that kind of thing. So he's exclusively that and additionally taking pictures for other stuff, cuz he's a really good photographer. I mean, he certainly brings like a watchdog aspect to it. And I think it just depends. I mean, there's so many things to cover with that kind of washed up. I like that is something that definitely should be covered and needs to be covered for just in general. But I don't know if anybody in my organization, I'd have to go back. I definitely know their stories really good comes up. But that exclusively not not yet for me, but I can't speak for my colleagues.

I still think it's especially with because I went to school in Minneapolis. So there were I interned at the paper up there and they had a lot of coverage. When, you know, when these protests were happening after the police killed George Floyd. Yeah, there were groups that were actually coming out here that were not involved with that at all. And so these people that I used to intern with had to learn very fast what Voodoo boys were and yeah, they're still covering some of those criminal trials. So it's just interesting. I still think it's being covered now and I think I it's definitely something where we live in West Virginia, Appalachia. In general, but it's not something that I've dug into, like, I just read about it, and I go, oh my god, that's terrible. Yeah.

Yeah, maybe I'm just associating it with a few years ago, cuz there's a few incidents like at our university when I like first came here. And I feel like I was feeling it more on a local level, whereas, uh, not so much anymore. But yeah, it's definitely, of course still there.

Okay, well, would you say? I mean, if you don't have the experience, like having encountered it before, I don't know if you'd know about the ideal way to address it. But have you heard from any colleagues, how they would go about addressing and countering hate speech while reporting?

It's not really a conversation we've had I mean, I know in general, like in classes, I've had an experiences I've had, I think it's true, the lot of things. If it's, I mean, because like, you know, when you ask if we take a stance, like all the way back, like we don't side with people other than, you know, our readers and what's best, but I do think it's pretty, like, universal, that, hey, groups are wrong, and some of these things are bad. offensive and, and just hateful. So I mean, I think and I have no experience in this, but just, especially with things like vaccine misinformation in the election. It's important, I mean, to cover it, and to let people know what's going on, but to not validate it. Yeah. Like, I don't have a lot to elaborate on it. So I haven't had to deal with that. Yeah, I don't know what the best way to do. But I think it's really important just to, you know, somebody says something, like not just running something, because it's a good quote, because it could be hateful, and it might be harmful to your readers. Just in general, like I assume that applies that kind of thing, too. But I was like the election or mental health or, I mean, just anything, like just being responsible about what you run and not running it just because it's catchy, but just making sure that it's important. Yeah, so not validating what they stand for is important. You're governing that. Yeah.

Okay. Thanks for teasing that out with me. I guess like, I only have two more questions, but do you have like a professional position that you're like, aspiring to fill?

Um, I really like what I do. Now. I really, I mean, I just have a I have a cool job, I get to drive out to places and talk to people I haven't met before and learned a bunch of things I don't know. But also, at the end of the day, when I put out a story that just looks good, and it feels good. And I feel like I've got things different from other outlets. It feels really important. I'm like, I am doing something that makes a difference. Yeah. So I don't know I like what I do. Now. I I want to keep being a reporter. I think especially in this industry to I don't know I there's so many people, I do just want to get into like national stuff after this. It's, it's you feel like there are more and more people. I don't know what your interests and aspirations are. But I think like there are more people who were like, wow, like, local journalism is actually kind of cool. And there are things you can do with this. And maybe we need more voices in these matters of interest, like national outlet. 

I think there's a lot of it just depends. And we're a new state level organization. So you know, a lot of my job, especially because I go out to places where I mean, people don't go to Charleston a lot. So when I introduce myself, I also have to explain my news organizations, they have never heard of it. But typically, if you're working for like a local news outlet, or even a public broadcasting, like, I feel like there's more trust there, regardless of who you're talking to them sometimes like national outlets. Even when you are a state level news organization, going into a more local community. It's just I don't I don't know that feels good. Like, you feel like you're on their side. Yeah. Like, I live here. It does suck, though, like pay disparities and some really, really local jobs, especially legacy print, but on a extremely local level. I think that is kind of why it's viewed as a stepping stone. And maybe something more sustainable needs to happen there. 

And I think sometimes national outlets they don't like they don't understand what they're saying is probably going to come off as offensive or harmful to the community. So yeah, I mean, even if you can't live like directly in the community, you're covering the closest you can get to it. And the more you live there, and the more you keep in touch, like I think it's really important. And I mean with some daily stories you can't do this book longer form stuff like what we do like to keep in touch with people even after you write with them, and you're out there continuously. I mean, in a professional way, but I mean, they're they're human beings, they're not characters, so I think that's

Yeah, definitely just like, establishing trust and relationships. Do you have anything else you want to add? I I think I've kind of hit everything.