#ill always be a cool with you girly at heart

[aphrodite-of-sparta]

My first good fic idea I've had ever being conceived to right now by newjeans is a perfect descriptor of my summer '24 mental state

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

hi sweetie! <3 i was wondering if i can request some fluff (maybe with a smut in the end it’s up to you) with ghost and innocent!girly!reader where ghost got all overprotective over her when some guy is harassing her and she got really scared and anxious? feel free to ignore if you don’t feel like writing this! have a wonderful day, sweetheart ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

hi angel!! i hope you enjoy! <3 i didn’t add smut at the end it kinda got more serious i hope that’s okay!!! <33

(sorry if this is bad i wrote it in class KANDK)

(unmasked! ghost)

(this is kinda an au! type of thing so most everything is completely inaccurate to COD)

warnings: blood, slight violence, reader is shorter than ghost, reader is lifted up by ghost, innocent!reader, slightly dark!ghost, possessiveness, size difference (i pinned ghost as 6’6 hehe woops), tattooed!ghost (U WILL NEVER STOP ME)

‎♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

ghost has always been overprotective of you, ever since the day you two met—not just when u guys started dating.

his hands always find their place on ur body, making it known to everybody you were his and only his-and he was yours and wholly only yours.

so when u two went out with price and the rest of the team to a busy bar out in the city, ghost’s hands never once left your body.

even when u two were sat next to each other at the booth, his bulky arm stayed draped over ur shoulder, ur hand fiddling with his big tattooed one as he gave dirty looks to any man that dared to look in your direction.

everything was going smoothly until your small voice made his ears perk— “gotta go to the bathroom, be right back..”

you began to part from ghost’s grasp before he caught ur small hand in his. “do ya need me to go with ya?”

u giggled, blushing slightly. “simon, i don’t need ur help going pee!—ill be right back.”

ghost wasn’t always one for extreme PDA, but he could see the hungry looks of the men at the bar staring at you. and he didn’t like that. not one bit. before u could escape, he adjusted his grip on ur hand to on ur forearm, pulling u towards him as he kissed u possessively.

he heard ur small, surprised yelp as his soft —but bitten lips moved over yours, his tongue beginning to slip into ur silky mouth before u pulled away—face burning of shyness as soap and price looked away, a small smile playing on their lips out of amusement from ur embarrassment and ghost’s act possessiveness.

“love you.” simons gruff voice spoke; a slightly smug smirk playing on his pink lips.

“i love you too.” you spoke quietly biting ur lower lip as butterflies fluttered in ur tummy.

simon watched as u walked away, ur short skirt swaying as u stepped through the crowd.

“obsessed much?” soap chuckled, and price laughed with him.

“yes.” ghost replied shortly, taking a sip of his whiskey and setting it next to your strawberry daiquiri, cool water droplets beading off of ur drink.

three minutes passed and ghost started to feel unease settling in his gut.

turns out, his gut was right to feel that nagging way.

“stop!” through the music and loud chatter of people, he could hear your small voice shout. his heart dropped, and he immediately peeled through the crowd, his height making it easy for him to see over everyone’s head.

a thin man with blonde hair groped at ur body from outside the restroom door of the bar.

“jus-“ the man laughed sickeningly, grabbing ur breast as u tried to squirm away from him, tears streaming down your face. “stop movin’, baby, just wanna feel you.. bet ur nice and tight.” he smacked ur butt, cries escaping ur throat as u tried to gasp for simon’s name but nothing came out of your mouth as u shut ur eyes tightly. maybe this was a dream—maybe the man would go away—just maybe.

ghost’s body filled with an unimaginable amount of rage, and from the corner of the room, konig (who was drinking and leaning against a wall chatting up an older woman), confusedly looked at simon as the wall blocked his view of you.

he knew that deadly look in his friend’s eyes when he saw it.

shit.

loud thunks of simon’s combat boots pounded on the ground as he ripped the disgusting man off of you, his height towering over the man.

he could see the way you cried, eyes shut and whimpering as you choked on your sobs.

“hey!” the man shouted, right before ghost smacked his head into the wall; ghost’s fists colliding with the man’s face.

anger crawled throughout his body as he almost went on autopilot, the man’s face bloody and battered as simon repeatedly punched him.

punch, punch, punch—

“ghost!” price barked, trying to pry simon off of the man. “ he’s done, ghost. enough!”

your eyes peeled open as you cried, gasping as you saw the mess of a face of the man that assaulted you. his nose crooked as it took konig, price, soap, and gaz to pull simon off of the limp man.

the bar was quiet besides the music and ur little cries. blood splotched simon’s knuckles as he breathed heavily.

the man on the ground groaned, and simon almost broke through the grasp of his team behind him before the cloud of anger subsided when he heard your small, “s-simon.”

stepping on the man’s leg, simon’s large, bruised hands cupped your face, your eyes glossy with tears.

“cmon.” he spoke gruffly, holding you against him as you both made your way out of the bar to the back alley where it was quiet.

“i-“ you choked on a sob as ghost pulled you to him, his large frame dwarfing yours as he shushed you, kissing the top of your head.

“no one’s gonna hurt you like that again. i would’ve killed him—“ his accent was thick as his grip on you tightened. he took a deep breath.

you sniffled into his warm chest, ur arms wrapped around him tightly.

“are you okay?” he asked after a moment of listening to your small weeping cries.

you nodded. “‘m okay now, just scary ‘s all..” you hiccuped, and simon easily picked you up to be closer to you. you nestled your face into his neck, his large hand rubbing along your back.

“i should’ve been there.” he spoke quietly.

you sniffled, pulling away from his neck to look at him. “you didn’t know, ‘s okay.”

simon didn’t say anything, he just adjusted you in his grip and wiped the tears from your face gently with his calloused thumb.

you kissed his lips gently, giggling when he sucked on your lower lip tenderly.

simon’s body warmed at the sound.

he always knew immediately when he met you that he would kill for you.

and this night just proved that further.

he would do anything for you.

anything.

[asexualbookbird]

Hm. Okay. So I didn't read a lot this last month. I've been fighting chronic illness and the brain fog that comes with it so really it's a miracle I read what I did. Didn't do any drawing challenge this year, but I DID knit a half dozen cool little things I can't yet share but am very excited about! I also had fun with the Tricking Treats this year. Yall really came through for that game this year, thanks! Acquired a nice new monitor for computer and it's been wonderful. Next step is speakers so I can watch things!

I feel like I made a pretty decent dent in my yearly reading list and while I don't think I'll finish it (waitlist for Jasmine Throne audio is still about sixteen weeks long), I'm happy with where I am. Three (3!!) books I read this month were from the list and I think that's very cool and executive functioning of me.

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan ⭐⭐⭐½ - A friend has been trying to get me to read this since it came out and I've always put it off because our tastes are SO different, but I didn't hate this! I mostly enjoyed it! It missed a few marks for me and I wouldn't really want to read it again, but I'm glad I experienced it. Love a good gremlin of a main character.

Red Sister by Mark Lawrence ⭐ - Yawn. Snore. Boring. Read for book club, but I wasn't exactly not interested in it on my own. IT just. Didn't hit right. Mark Lawrence needs to stop being afraid of aging up his characters because there is no way a nine year old is doing all that. Was this scifi? Where those space ships?? Is the moon haunted??? Who knows. Who cares. Not I.

Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I am forever a Daughter of Smoke and Bone girlie (gender neutral) so I've been avoiding this because what if I don't like it?? Spoiler! I did like it! It somehow scratched the hole left in my heart after DoSaB, but still felt distinct and unique. Did not like the insta love going on, yall have known each other for like twelve hours what do you mean you're In Love. Visuals were great and world building stunning as always. I wish Laini Taylor published more books, I love the worlds she creates.

Once & Future by AR Capetta and Cory McCarthy ⭐ - I'm never reading another book with Jimmy Pees name on it ever again. I meant to do a full review on this one, but time slipped away. I think this could be SO GOOD if it was reworked to two books where book one stopped at the time skip and book two took more time to overthrow the Evil Capitalist. It was too on the nose. It felt like middle grade, it dealt with older young adult topics. Merlin fucking sucked. I find it icky that everyone was paired off except for the ace character who EVERYONE HATED. Sure they came around to her, but ONLY AFTER IT WAS MADE CLEAR SHE WASN'T INTO GWEN. Ick. Full of potential, and yet.

Not a great reading month. Maybe November will be kinder. I'm slowly getting through Sunbringer, and am enjoying what I'm read so far so things are looking up. Going to see Nerd Squad soon. Still making knitted things I can't share until after the holidays. Tricking Treats also made me excited to do art again and because there were so many I ended up learning a lot about how CSP works which is fun! So hey! November is looking good! November is looking fun! I WILL MAKE IT FUN!

[alwaysinstyle]

A Long-Overdue RANT Girlies Appreciation Post

Tonight feels like the perfect night to tell you how much I love you all, and I apologize in advance for the length of this post.

~ Nina ~

My precious Pastel Woods outfit hype-woman who’s always ready to Style Carry™️ me onto the battle field, deceive the enemies with her iconic mermaid hair extensions and then KICK SOME ASS for the both of us. Darling, if your Pinterest board is any indication, you have me absolutely figured out and it is both hilarious and iconic. You are for real my Kenny-coded friend’s evil twin and I know without a doubt that you two would go full GTA mode on the NPC bad drivers to bring me an iced coffee (from ANYWHERE but the Bad Vibes Café). Speaking of which, I hoping you’re treating yourself to an iced chai, because you deserve it, you gorgeous and talented REAL author who I adore. Thanks for climbing up on stilts to give me a kiss on the cheek whenever I’m feeling down. Your constant kind words mean so much to me and yes, you did make me cry actual tears when you called me your IRL Superhero. Your dear Wal-Mart Taylor Swift sends all the love in the world.

~ Teri ~

Scary Teri, my favorite Ten Ferrets Stacked in a Trench Coat, my fellow road rage gal who loves screaming in the car as much as I do. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate you for biting the bullet and being the Cartman friend with whom I can make THE darkest jokes and tell THE darkest stories (and, of course, exchange graphic jump-scare surgery pics) without scaring you away. At the end of it all, you still tell me I’m vibrant and resilient, and that warms my heart more than I can express. Thank you for allaying my fears of becoming a Cynical Asshole (formal diagnosis as you all know). Thank you for making me feel strong when I feel weak. I look forward to many, many more unhinged conversations and overly analytic beta reads of your spectacular fics. I do, in fact, still expect to receive a package containing the buckets of tears I have harvested through Hourglass.

~ Riley ~

My dearest WARRIOR, sword-wielding protector Riley, co-sponsor of the Style Carry™️ who makes me spontaneously combust with everything she writes. We come together to form one joint Whump Deity as the Queen of Injury Fics and the Queen of Sickfics, and I love that everyone on ao3 GENUINELY lumps us together as one being. I don’t blame them since we really do be sharing one brain cell. It kicks ass being each other’s target audience because even with our most self-indulgent shit, mark my worms, the other WILL be absolutely blended. Whenever I’m feeling down, you’re ALWAYS locked and loaded with lizard pics and not to mention graphic illness and injury for my viewing pleasure. Your fics, bedtime stories and sneak peeks that are ALWAYS tacitly solicited bring me such an incredible amount of joy. I mean it. It was the sweet siren call of OJV that brought me to Tumblr in the first place. I am so glad to have come to the dark side and to have become a RANT girly, and I owe that all to you. You are the heart of RANT, dear. Without you we’re just ANT, and ants aren’t even that cool. Thank you so very much for being the ultimate hype gal, for being THE world’s best commenter, for reminding me to take care of Ye Olde Flesh Prison when I’m being terrible about it, and for worrying about me when I’m too stubborn to worry about myself. Your support means the world to me, my dude. Our chats and headcanon dumps have actually been the grounding force keeping me sane (ironically, since we’re so insane about Style). Keep kicking ass and avoiding creepy pizza men, okay? I love you so much and I love being NOT normal together.

@1moreoffkeyanthem @asteria7fics @boxwinebaddie

All three of you, and everyone else on this crazy website who makes me smile, THANK YOU.

[cyberabbit]

For the character ask game, please could you do Ness?

Oh absolutely, I'm already one step away from writing a Ness manifesto!

I love Ness so much. His design right away- dead behind the eyes, soft, and something about him coming through as small despite being a pro football player. With everything from chapter 361.

2. That he got into football off the back of wanting to believe in everyday magic. It's cute.

3. It's not about him, but I hate the position he's sitting in of being blindly loyal to Kaiser. I hope he gets to make more friends.

4. He seems like someone misplaced a Dangan Ronpa character, but he deserves better. My first fandom was Shaman King and I think he'd be a great character in that.

5. Both "Fast Car" by Tracey Chapman and "Would?" by Alice in Chains.

6. AHAHAHAHA WOW OK. Ness is the other character in Blue Lock I look at and go oh no, same. We both attach ourselves easily to people and can't tell that they don't always have our best interests at heart.

7. Blue Lock fans are really good at writing Ness' unhinged responses to others, especially in relation to Kaiser. I don't think he's above putting thumbtacks in Isagi's cleats.

8. The fandom can have a habit of going to extremes with him - either making him completely soft-pure-innocent, or making him aggressively unhinged to the point he's unrecognisable. Yes, he's been heavily manipulated from being isolated and daydreaming, but he's still had all those other interactions with other characters- he still sabotages and threatens for the sake of someone else.

9. Probably couldn't be roommates with him. One of us would fly off the handle for a small reason and it'd come crumbling down. Also, two people prone to attaching in unhealthy relationships are probably a housemate match in hell.

10. Absolutely friends though! We're both the kind of weirdos who'd get into spooky LARP, make up fantasy worlds and infodump about witchcraft history while kicking a ball around.

11. Ness is very much not my type of partner! I couldn't handle someone idolising me, or tolerate Kaiser being a factor.

12. He's still an avid reader, and will devour both romantic fantasy and magical realism fiction. He wants to visit Disneyland with friends, particularly Kaiser. Also I'm a BPD Ness truther.

13. While :> makes me think of him, I think he'd use ❤️ a lot!

14. He's a dark academica girlie, but not the grey-beige kind. He's the intersection of the nerd-goth axis. Dark academia at Halloween.

15. I like Kainess because it's radioactive levels of toxic. I think he needs to be on his own and have friends before he needs a relationship, really, but I think Kurona/Ness is cute (+ I read a fic where Hiori was involved too). Nanase/Ness could be cute too?

16. There isn't a Ness ship I don't like. There isn't really much for him beyond Kaiser, Isagi and Kurona!

17. Isagi/Ness. It's fine I guess? I just wouldn't read it. It'd be cool if they became friends though.

18. Ness doesn't really have anything in the way of other relationships in canon, and the one he does have... ooft no, too relatable.

19. I don't dislike it, I think it's great in the story, but how his relationship with Kaiser is makes me so sad.

20. Nanase! Give Ness an emotional support Nanase! I think he'd be good friends with Kurona and Hiori too... maybe even Bachira. Add him to the Just Little Guys gang. Especially because I don't think Hiori would tolerate him exploding, but handle it well.

21. He's fun to write when you explore his interests outside of football! I like to imagine how he'd dress, decorate his space, and how football is part of it but not the same as characters like Barou or Isagi where football is football- with Ness, it's part of his daydreaming and attempts to connect with the world around him in a whimsical way. Sometimes when I write him I feel like I focus on him being mentally ill that it clouds writing everything else when they should all actually be interacting together.

22. My fic likes & dislikes are the same as my answers to how I feel about his fandom interpretation!

23. The panel where he's smiling at Kaiser in the shower. Did it ever actually happen? Who knows.

24. Mikan Tsumiki from Dangan Ronpa. Kaiser is just Junko Enoshima. Trust me on this one.

25. I thought he was cute and absolutely unhinged. Now it's sort of the same but I think he deserves a blanket, a hug and a big pretzel.

26. I truly hope Ness realises his worth and Kaiser has to come to terms with losing him!

[tamaruaart]

YOU

Grant us your oc’s delicious lore, anything that comes to mind first-

Ah tysm for asking

(btw I apologize for this being long af 😔)

So I feel like I should prep this by saying before I figured out about LMK I was super into OPS's jttw series. So I made Zhao with the context of the book, and the book doesn't sugar coat things so Zhao's backstory is a bit uhhh, mature? There's no nsfw stuff but there is a lot, lot, loottt of angst (even though the backstory is kinda "simple"), so forgive me :'(

I did change up her backstory a bit for the LMK version because it is a kids show and I don't feel like the creators would stick with the dark tone of the original. Whenever I write OCs for sertant shows I try to write it with the context of "How would the creator tackle this if my oc was a Canon character?" Yk? You don't write a depressed, emo, Greek hero for a light hearted magical girl show.

So ye, this first segment will be her JTTW backstory sum-up and I'll note what is changed in the LMK version at the end👍

JTTW/original backstory(this is long, read at your own risk)-

-Zhao wasn't raised in the best household.. Not only was her father a total womanizer with 3 wives (at the time of her birth, by now he has 7) and who knows how many mistresses, but her elder family member were pretty verbally abusive. I mentioned before but Xiaotian and Biao-Qi (Zhao's father and grandfather) wanted Zhao to be born as a male because in their clan its essential for the first born of every generation to be a boy, so when they found out about Zhao being a girl they were really salty and thought of her as "The disgrace" of the family. (hence why Zhaoyan is a name generally given to Chinese boys, which yea Xiaotian is the type of douche-bag to chose the name of the child at the start of his marriage without the mothers approval)

-Zhao was the one basically raising her younger siblings because her parents couldn't be bothered to, Pangfua (Zhao's mom) couldn't even bare to look at Xiaotian's face so the last thing she cared for was some random children of him and his mistresses, and Xiaotian's other wifes didn't really care for the children either. However, Zhao ADORED her siblings because she was always good with little kids. But as time went on and on, with so many children coming in to the household she started getting tired, but what could she do? At the time she was barely a teenage girl, if she complained to her father she could legitimately be at risk to lose her head. Like I said, Xiaotian couldn't care less about Zhao, he doesn't give a damn if she likes taking care of her siblings or not.

-Eventually Zhao grew too tired of her family, and decided to leave. This might seem selfish but holy frick, the girlie felt like a maid, and it's not like she doesn't care for her family, it's that they couldn't care less about her. All of her siblings were old enough to take care of each other and the other family members treated them well, why shouldn't she be able to "go live her own life"?

- The first place she went was to a temple dedicated to the Chinese tiger spirit- Hu Ye. The reason she went to him specifically was because he was sort of the protector/symbol of Zhao's family (for context think about how Apollo was the protector of the Trojans in the Iliad), she prayed to him all night, she asked humbly to become a Jade Maiden that serves Guan Yin (because that was probably the best option. Also just so you have context- Hu Ye blessed the girls in Zhao's family with a healing gift. So basically they could heal any illness, wound, missing limb etc...). But to her surprise Hu Ye saw what she did as "unforgiving". You shouldn't leave your family who loves you so much, not cool >:( (cut him some slack tho, whenever to family would worship him they would make them self's seem like the most perfect people ever). And so in short he gave her flaming orange hair so she never forgets that she is a Tiger Maiden (bcz orange=tigers and he just be petty like that bro).

-Eventually she went to the woods but she was found by Lánhūa- a forest spirit. Lánhūa took pity on her and decided to take her in as one of her nymphs. Because Zhao had the healing gift she was a great addition to the palace Lánhūa lived in, Zhao was always the one making sure everyone was healthy and the worst someone suffered was a common cold, and even those wouldn't last long.

-However one day while she was collecting fruits for the palace she stumbled upon a strange noise near a mountain, she went to check what it was and wouldn't you have guessed its good ol' Sun Wukong. The pair fairly quickly became friends, Zhao would often tell him stories and keep him company and Sun (who was under that damn mountain for 346 years by the time he and Zhao met) would listen and tell her his life stories.

-At the early stages of the jttw Monkey actually did try and convince Zhao to come with him and the other pilgrims, she would be the one taking care of Tripitaka and making sure he stays healthy. Zhao refused at first but after some time she agreed. Her and Tripitaka were very close because they were both kinda the "sane ones" of the group and Zhao took her position very seriously. Sanzang eventually noticed that this was a bit weird considering how layed back the other pilgrims were, so he confronted her and Zhao opened up to him. And that's how I'd show her backstory in the book.

So in short: Girl leaves abusive family and prays to god, god makes her a ginger and she gets adopted by a hot forest spirit. A monkey befriends her and convinces her to give free health care to his friend **emotional**

Holy crap that took so long to write/ Notes on how her backstory would probably be changed in the lmk version:

In the lmk version I think they'd tone down how bad her family was just a bit, again it is a kids show. I think the start would generally be the same but that Hu Ye would grant her wish. But instead of a disciple for Guan Yin I think they'd change it into a Peach Maiden, so that she could meet the brotherhood and befriend Wukong like she did in the original backstory. They'd probably remove Lánhūa as well (because she is a very minor character in Zhao's backstory). So yea in short of what I think the creators of LMK would do with her character: -Hu Ye grants her wish of becoming a Peach Maiden. -Orange would be her natural hair color(bcz tigers woo). -I honestly think they'd give her a sort-of survivor's guilt because of the whole "leaving your family" thing instead of "Ama give u tiger hair so you never forget how you left your family >:(" -She meets the brotherhood through their lil' rebellion -Healing powers would probably be toned down a bit so there's still some risk

So ya-

Again thank you SO much for the question and thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[wetcatspellcaster]

20 Q's for Fic Writers

Thanks @redrocketpanda for tagging me ^_^

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

11! 9 completed, 2 WIPs.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

:)))))))) 831,063 :)))))))))) I don't wanna talk about it.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I am a fantasy videogames girlie, with a brief foray into Darklina sickness. I have written for BG3, Dragon Age, and Shadow and Bone.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 

Party Favours at 1,804

The Stars Don't Shine They Burn at 1,196

A Bleeding Heart at 1,133

Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth at 1,026

Eye of the Storm at 645

Before this year I had no fics over 1,000 kudos, so that was a cool development in 2023!

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to reply to everything, unless I am crippled by depression (or crippled by illness)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That goes to!!! Sunblindness!!! The only time I've foregone 'I can fix him' for 'I can make him worse (and I deserve to, as a treat)'.

I was actually planning to end that fic with a major character death and then a close friend was like "jfc this is what people read for fun Emma, chill the fuck out"

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The happiest ending is probably Party Favours? But I also think Stars Don't Shine They Burn with the 'I can't fix him I can make him fix himself, but at my end, I can also make us immortal soulmates' tied up pretty neatly, and I was very proud of it at the time.

(Also shout out to A Man's Word is His Bond for being the final chapter I'm happiest with.)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope, not yet! I've had some entitled comments and a few mansplainers, and if anyone sends a WRITE MOAR comment when I have 9 completed fics and over 800k for people to read if they want to, I'll likely become pissed. But no hate!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Queen of the Fade to Black, the moment anyone touches anything racier than a waist when I'm the one behind the keyboard I start blushing :')))))))))

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have written one whole crossover, my darklina Shadow and Bone/Stardust AU, and tbh it sent me pretty feral at the time.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes :-) twice I think. it's fine.

12. There was no question 12 so I'll make one up myself: What's the longest you've ever spent working on one fic? And the shortest?

Screaming, crying, throwing up. I remember the Emma who used to only post fics once they were fully drafted. I remember writing a Zevran/Warden fic in a week in the height of living alone in lockdown. I also remember writing A Bleeding Heart in a worryingly brief 3-week period.

Then I got hit with the crippling depression. The longest I've spent working on a fic is 19 months for Sunblindness when I got the Big Sads.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! Not a group projects girlie. I'm here to cater to me and me alone.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Lol. Of the ones I've written for, it's a tie between Zevran/Surana and Astarion/Tav, as their dynamics were the funnest (seems rogue/mage is my jam). Of all time, it's Spike/Buffy - I have no need to write for them bc I am already well fed.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a Darklina Wintersmith AU that I have 2 out of 3 chapters down for and then BG3 full release happened. But the depressing answer to this question is 'original fiction projects' - I want to try and write something original but my confidence always fails me. I'm trying to transfer the things I enjoy about fic to original stuff to combat it but I'm not there yet!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Idk man, who could say? I think I'm good at dialogue/banter bc that's the compliment I receive most often in comments. I also think that if I've got a plot-twist in mind from the very beginning, I usually land it? The rest of the plot might be squiggly and messy as fuck, but if a scene was there when the fic was dreamt up (the ending of Sunblindness, the stag scene in my Stardust!AU, the agoraphobia reveal in A Bleeding Heart, the study scene in Pieces, etc.) then it usually ends up being received well and being exactly the way I pictured it in my head.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Can't write smut!!! It's the only thing holding me back!!!

(also if I have the choice between describing something in a sentence or in 3 paragraphs, I usually pick 3 paragraphs. Sometimes this is good, sometimes this is a fucking travesty. See answer to question 2!)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Amazing and encouraged but not something I can do, as I am bad at languages so it would just end up being a colonial hate crime facilitated by google translate.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Dragon Age: Inquisition!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Despite the way that Full Access recontextualises it, my favourite fic is absolutely A Bleeding Heart. It was so much fun to write, it was my first time doing unreliable narration, and I was really proud of the plot twist in the final chapter. Also for someone who doesn't write smut, the fact that I got a friend to walk out of their house with the hair-pulling scene made me very smug tbh.

Tagging anyone who wants to do this!! I have made a bunch of new friends and mutuals lately, so if you're a writer and you want to answer these qus please do this so I can see your answers.

[kedsandtubesocks]

i’m here for the sleepover 🛏️ in my oversized hoodie and sadly i don’t have a face mask but i did bring snacks!! 🍩🍿i would like to suggest:

🌹 and!! some 🪐 specifically the zodiac sign you feel you gravitate most towards!!

hope you can cool off with your ice cream and that you’re rest is going well 💗💖💞

AHHHH thank you mi amor you are so wonderful and omg I bet you look ADORABLE in ur oversized hoodie be still my heart 🥺 plus you bringing snacks ur the best babe of all I’ll got get us some face masks brb! 🏃‍♀️

🌹 - Omg so ill talk about our dumb blasty guy (I was going to talk about gooj but I put my foot down) so…because this is a sleepover and everyone always reveals big truths at sleepover I can admit that I actually hated bakugou IM SORRY 😭 but the moment I caved in… was seeing the 2nd movie in theaters lmaooo it’s so cheesy but that entire time I was like “nope no nope this is not happening u hate this stupid punk ass” and then the scene comes where he catches the little girl so gently?? Like straight up dives to make sure he reaches her in time?? I was done…and now here we are LMAOO 🤡

but omg OMG pls tell me now when your Moment™️ was 🥺

🪐 - OOO such a good question you asked I love it!! It never fails that I’m always drawn to either water or air sign placements!! a lot of my chart is air and water so I’m just kinda always sticking with familiar vibes lol but honestly I get excited when fire signs come into my life because their energy is so vibrant like a certain Aries Queen I know (it you 😌)

But oh my goodness thank you so much for sending some cute asks in Nemea darling!!

I’m picturing us sharing the snacks you brought (im a hot Cheetos girlie so I know we’re having some of those) while we watch that 2nd MHA movie so we can cry about it together 😭🌹✨

[velvethopewrites]

I was tagged by @katherinewilliams221b to answer the following Writing Questions - thank you! 🥰

Writer’s 20 Questions!

1) How many works do you have on A03?

13. However, I probably have closer to 30+ stories or so? A lot of my stuff disappeared from when I wrote the first time around, back in the early 2000s but I was pretty prolific, lol

2) What’s your total A03 word count?

1, 446,983

3) What fandoms do you write for?

I *did* write for Harry Potter, but I haven’t done that in more than a year. And unless JKR walks it back and apologizes for everything I probably won’t return anytime soon. Every time I even think of continuing to write HP I get physically ill to my stomach.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Moments to Come

Loving Is A Journey

Moving the Goalposts

In Essence: Undivided

17, Clumsy & Shy

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course!! Well, it depends on the comment, sometimes I have nothing to add, especially if the comment is short or just rude. I get/got a lot rude comments.

6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t really do angsty endings (happy ending girlie here all the way) but I suppose In Essence, because yay, some people lived! But pooh, some people died. 💁🏼‍♀️

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Moving the Goalposts, it ended with a 10,000+ worded smut chapter, lol

8) Do you get hate on fics?

I do, I did. And people were really mean about it too. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Whatever.

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! I was once known as the Queen of Smut. What kind? I am not sure what that means… I mean, I think it was pretty hot. LOL But I have written both het and gay (and also threesomes).

10) Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. In Chinese (which blows my mind) and Russian.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No! I always thought it would be cool to try, but I don’t know how that would even work - I am chaotic enough and insane enough by myself. Also even for a writer, I have extremely bad habits.

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

It was Harry and Ginny, and a part of me still does love them, will always love them…but now it’s Dean & Cas.

15) What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Crossroads. And also Possession. Two different stories with two different vibes and I poured my heart into one and lost interest in the other. C’est la vie.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I do good dialogue. I do fairly well with plot. See the aforementioned smut title. I think I do okay with description but alway feel like I could do more. I do pretty well with humor.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m wordy. I do tend to go on a bit. I’m a perfectionist to the point where I worry about all of it far too much. I tend to think I suck and that no likes my writing, so why bother? I lack confidence in it. You know, the usual.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I like it. But I do tend to only try it with languages I actually know, like French. Make less mistakes that way.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter.

20) Favorite fic you’ve written?

Crossroads. No one else liked it (lol) but I did!

I tag @late-to-the-fandom and whoever else wants to!

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

As I've learned from watching House M.D. clips, it's never lupus lol

Let her feel it Shaun lol

Ayy yeah Jared and Asher on her side :D

AW she's so cute I love her

And like me fr honestly xD

Oop?

Nah I bet it's something that shouldn't be there

Hmm gallstone?

OOP o.o

Is that a needle, just not yours?

Wire o.o

Ohh the barbecue :OO

I mean I don't remember but xd

Yeeah those brushes! Wild o.o

Hmm yeah he did get slapped in the head lol

Yeah tell her good job :)

She wants it from Shaun though doesn't she xd

Shaunnn xd

Hmm a magnet?

Also with the other scene good thing the thing they did worked :D (the one before this)

Glassman you do have to be professional though xd

And do work like you're playing pool right now lol

Steve being there too xD

Yeeah I mean Lim can't do all of it lol

Lim insulting him to Steve XDD

Ope? What are we doing again

OPE O.O

Oohhh right it's a magnet :O

OHHHH :O

One stuck up there!!!

Where was it?

Ohh tonsils :F

Ahh and the nerve and stuff :O :D!! That's wild :)

Nice job y'all :DD!!

Yeah it is cool :))

Lol yeah those wire brushes are not it xD

What's this thing with this butcher lol o.o desperate to find out later (when I watch the beginning) xD

Ahh they're like his brothers :'))

LOL this is very pointed at Asher right now xD not on purpose from the guy but yk

Certainly a hmmm 👀👀 ain't that interesting moment though xD

I mean you don't HAVE to do dangerous stuff for the people you love that's not the lesson here lol

But yeah doing what they enjoy sometimes :'))

XD Jared's look at Asher

We knew it was coming lol

Take it to heart Asher!

Meanwhile Dom just standing here: :)

Oop now's the time Jerome's going!!

Asherrrr go to!!

I bet he will :)

AAAHHHHHHH AW KISS 🥰🥰🥰❤️!!! My lovelies <33

AAAHHHHH YES go :DD!!

Awww slay 🥰🥰

Awww Dom it's okay :'((

You're trying your best dude and you're doing great <33

AWW Park :'))) see this is what makes him a good teacher <3

I mean it's not the only way to do it but with Park it works well :)

AWWWWW 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ the hug :'))

:'OO Morgan watching!!

Aww :'))

Yeah girl you want that man as the father of your child lol

:OOO AAHHHH WE GET TO SEE THE PARTY!!!

I'm so excited omgosh

Wait why is this gonna be hilarious lol :D

Ahh so a niece

Is she gonna say Asher too :))

AWW 🥰🥰

:DD Ooh a sports team sweatshirt!! AW :))

:'OO IS SHE GONNA HUG ASHER TOO

YES DO IT DO IT

AAAHHHHHH AWWWW YESS :'DDD :))

This is so cute my gosh

Lol I'm assuming that's the niece's dad, so a brother xD and he seems to support another team slfhdjs

Not gonna lie realistic dad-child banter lol

:'OOO ASHER BEING ALL INCLUDED STOP 😭😭💔❤️❤️ I'M NOT OKAY

AAWWWWW THE LITTLE HANDSHAKE THING!!!

STOP I AM SO NOT OKAY 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

That was the most adorable thing ever

Like the whole scene, I loved that so much <333

Just thinking about Asher leaving his family behind and not having that for years and finally he's remembering what it's like :')) I am not okay thank you very much <33

Ill :D <3 (ill)

Oop Charlie! Hey girl :D

Aww she's so sweet :)) I'm kind of assuming she's trying to get in his good graces but yk lol

Okay nice we're being chill so far :)

Okay but pushy girl but fair xD

Fair to want rude to ask but yk

Okay listen I'm scared because the more emotional dramatic moments from the promo haven't happened yet so idk if this'll stay going good

UH OH

Shaun o.o

That's not what she wants is it? She wants to be a surgeon right?

Yup o.o

SHAUNNN YOU'RE LITERALLY DOING TO HER WHAT THEY DID TO YOU!!

Stoppp 😭😭😭💔

I don't deserve this <3

Honeyy :((

She just wants to be like you Shaun 😭😭😭

Poor girlie 😭😭

She doesn't deserve this Shaun >:(

It's not your job to decide what she can do, job wise I mean

She's not you!! She's herself!! And she can be a surgeon!!

Gosh 😭😭

Hey again y'all xd

Must everyone always be arguing xd like always some pair lol, over several episodes

Especially these two ngl lol

You'll survive it xd

Ope o.o Charlie :(

Ahh they're gonna see and see that neither of their advice worked lol

Ope honey D:

This makes me so sad :(( <3

Honey 😭😭😭

[at-the-sign-of-the-fox-n-phoenix]

I appreciate how angry you are that people are scamming folx.  Your kind heart made my day.  AND!  You are SO RIGHT that some education is needed here! Taking your advice, I used Google and Google Scholar for this research.

WHAT I LEARNED:

1. The fucked up wellness influencers are often, though not always, neofascist girlies (of all genders) trying to get people with chronic medical problems that are UNDER INVESTIGATED & UNDER TREATED to feel appreciated as a recruitment tactic.  It’s a Problem.  And we all know a fascist Loves a GOOD GRIFT.

2.  The stuff that isn’t about vaginas and shit is actually about stuff that is UNDER INVESTIGATED & UNDER TREATED.  3.  Personal note on the subject of GETTING OUTDOORS AND TOUCH THE GRASS:  Most of the consequences of having under investigated and under treated invisible disabilities like the various types of arthritis, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, and many others limit how much and what kind of outside time you can do.  How much gardening you can do, for example.  I am in CONSTANT pain that varies in intensity.  My hands sometimes stop working altogether.  Me trying to prune a bush in my garden is not practical.  Me trying to weed my garden, or harvest there isn’t always something I can do.  This year, I couldn’t harvest my radishes in time due to a pain flare, so now i have the most BEAUTIFUL radish flowers!  Enjoying them, too.  So pretty!  So yeah, many of us who need some of the things on your list of scams the wellness influencers were making up really do feel very disconnected from Earth BECAUSE OF OUR INVISIBLE DISABILITIES. 

4.  NOW TO THE GOOGLE LINKS! 4a.  AIP is the AutoImmune Protocol used to identify what is making someone with an autoimmune illness unwell and here is what the CLEVELAND CLINIC (not a ‘fraudster’) says about it. https://health.clevelandclinic.org/aip-diet-autoimmune-protocol-diet/ Autoimmune diseases are horrible and most people tell people who have them that we just want ATTENTION.  No, we just don’t want to die because our body think our body is THE ENEMY.  Quite often the result is INFLAMMATION and CHRONIC PAIN which varies in intensity and location in the body.

4b.  The MAYO CLINIC’s thoughts on those annoying gluten free people (i’m one of them, alas!): https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/celiac-disease/symptoms-causes/syc-20352220

4c.  There is clearly some debate among medical researchers about how valid the nightshade allergy might be as an across the board thing: (apologies, that these are behind paywalls)

https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10620-023-07955-9 https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-3-030-88473-4_3 4d.  LINK TO THE TOMATO ALLERGY SEARCH I JUST DID ON GOOGLE SCHOLAR:  https://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&as_sdt=0%2C48&q=tomato+allergy&btnG= apparently some people WILL die of eating a tomato, trust me I was surprised, too. 4e.  LINK TO THE DIETARY TRIGGER NIGHTSHADE VEGETABLES SEARCH I JUST DID ON GOOGLE SCHOLAR:  https://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&as_sdt=0%2C48&q=dietary+trigger+nightshade+vegetables&oq=NIGHTSHADE+VEGETABLE

and nightshades seem to be causing inflammation issues all over the place which is one of the hallmarks of many autoimmune disorders.

5.  ON THE VAG NONSENSE - You’re right that stuff is a scam and it can make your body unhappy if you use them. 

6.  In case you want reliable, experiment and research based understandings of herbs as used in Germany - you can read:  https://shop.elsevier.com/books/the-complete-german-commission-e-monographs/blumenthal/978-0-9655555-0-0

which is THE COMPLETE GERMAN COMMISSION E MONOGRAPHS.  This book relates all the science done on each of 300 herbs commonly used by German herbalists.  Helpful.  Very science.  Much research.  COOL.  7.  LINK TO THE GOOGLE SCHOLAR SEARCH FOR ‘AMERICAN HERBAL MEDICINE RESEARCH’  https://scholar.google.com/scholar?as_ylo=2022&q=american+herbal+medicine+research&hl=en&as_sdt=0,48 8.  FINAL THOUGHTS Hope that helps everybody understand some of the stuff that is REAL that is still being researched and discussed and debated by actual medical experts and researchers.  

I know and deeply appreciate that you didn’t intend to throw disabled people without proper access to doctors who give a shit under the bus.  

Those of us with these oddball autoimmune diseases are overwhelmingly not taken seriously by doctors.  We are objects of intense interest to RESEARCH SCIENTISTS, so if we catch one of THAT SORT’s EYE we are guinea pigs.  

We spend a lot of time on Google Scholar finding everything to do with our WTF is wrong now experiences and then we bring that full ass note book to the doctor, who says 'oh you really want attention don’t you’ and how he knows best and won’t even talk to the authors of the study to see if your situation and the ones they’re investigating are a match.  It’s horrid and common.  ESP FOR WOMEN, and even more so for women of color.  

The wellness industry sprung up at first to serve those of us that the medical people generally don’t take seriously.  And then it morphed into a money grab by icky sorts.  Nothing more horrifying than watching people trying to heal while enduring medical neglect get coopted into weird toxic delusional shit.

i hate you alternative wellness natural chemical free vegan non-GMO herbal intuitive whole foods healing raw high vibrational plant based cleanse gluten free superfood supplement blend bullshit!!!! You're not healthier and more balanced and connected to the Earth because your smoothies are full of unidentifiable green and brown powders you got from a subscription box to ✨URTH-CRUNCH VAGINAL ENLIGHTENMENT✨!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[s-brant]

Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

​​Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

[ghost-in-the-hella]

63. “I need a place to stay.” PriceMarsh

Roughly 1 million years later (in fandom years), here it is. 

CW for homophobia and implied domestic abuse. 

 --- 

When Chloe answers the door at 9pm on Christmas Eve, she isn’t expecting to see her girlfriend. She especially isn’t expecting to see her looking tear-stained and puffy-eyed in her best church clothes, soaked to the skin and carrying a hastily packed backpack. 

“Kate! What’s wrong?” she asks, heart immediately hammering anxiously in her chest. 

Kate barely manages to get the words out. “I need a place to stay.” 

“O-of course, yeah.” Chloe holds the door open and steps back, ushering her inside. It’s too cold and rainy outside for Kate to be standing there without a heavy coat. 

“I’m sorry,” Kate starts babbling as soon as she’s over the threshold. “I didn’t know where else to go; the dorms are closed until after New Years and--” 

“Hey, hey,” Chloe says soothingly, pulling Kate gently into her arms. “I’m glad you came here. I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all. But I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.” 

Kate hiccups something between a laugh and a sob into Chloe’s shoulder as she hugs her back so hard that Chloe’s ribs ache. “I missed you, too,” she mumbles wetly. 

“What’s going on?” David barks from the living room over the sound of the television. “Shut the damn door, girlie; you’re letting all the heat out!” 

Chloe gives Kate an extra squeeze, feeling the way she tenses at David’s gruff voice. She kicks out one foot, pushing the door loudly shut. 

“Who is it?” Joyce asks, poking her head out of the kitchen, her hands still dripping soap suds. Her eyebrows rise in concern when she sees the state that Kate is in. “Kate, darlin’!” she exclaims, leaving the kitchen and wiping off her hands on a dishcloth. “What’s the matter?” 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Madsen,” Kate says through a fresh wave of tears. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your family so close to Christmas. I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead; she took my phone.” 

Chloe’s heart sinks down to her toes and her head starts buzzing numbly. Shit. She’s been dreading this moment ever since she and Kate started dating. “Your mom?” 

Kate nods, looking heartbroken. She turns to Chloe. “I didn’t mean to tell her anything,” she says in an agonized rush. “It just slipped out. One of my cousins came out over Thanksgiving, and she was talking all about how he was going to hell and I just meant to defend him and… and… It just slipped out.” Kate’s mouth tightens into a pained snarl. “She was just so convinced that none of her perfect daughters could be ‘like that,’ so convinced it was something his parents did wrong and that he would go to hell, and I couldn’t let her. I couldn’t let her keep saying those things as if she wasn’t talking about her own daughter, too.”

“So she kicked you out,” Chloe says numbly. 

Kate nods again, and Joyce’s frown deepens as she sweeps in to put her own arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, Katie, darlin’. I’m sure your mother will come to her senses--” she glares at Chloe when Chloe snorts angrily “--eventually,” she continues determinedly, “but until then you just stay right here with us. Have you had supper?” 

Kate shakes her head. “Th-thank you, Mrs. Madsen. I’m sorry to impose, I just didn’t know where else to go; the dorms are closed over break.” 

“Never you mind; it’s no imposition. Chloe, would you set up a dinner plate for our guest?” 

“Yeah, ‘course.” Chloe lets go of Kate and looks her up and down. She’s sopping wet and shivering. “You wanna grab a shower and warm up while I’m heating the leftovers? You can borrow some of my pjs if you need a change of clothes.”

“Thank you,” Kate says once again, pressing her cold lips gratefully against Chloe’s cheek as Joyce returns to the kitchen and starts bustling about in the refrigerator. “I managed to grab some things before she locked me out, but I don’t know if I’ve even got a complete outfit apart from what I’m wearing.” 

Chloe scowls. “I can’t believe your dad let her do this. And on Christmas Eve; what the actual fuck.” 

Kate shrugs sadly. “He tried to reason with her, but when she gets like this…” She sighs. “Maybe he’ll be able to talk her around, eventually. At least enough that I can go back and get the rest of my things.”

“He’d fucking better. And if he doesn’t, we’ll break in and take them back,” Chloe promises. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

“Parents kicked you out, huh?” David says, suddenly looming in the doorway with a nearly empty beer bottle dangling from one hand. “That’s rough.”

“I… Yes, it is, Mr. Madsen.” 

David nods contemplatively, eyes darting back and forth between Kate and Chloe, and Chloe wants to go over and smack his eyes shut. “Well. Sorry t’hear it. I s’pose we can fix up the couch for you ‘til the dorms reopen.” 

It’s more than Chloe expected from him but less than Kate deserves. “Kate can stay in my room. We’re both adults.” 

David’s expression sours. “Miss Marsh can stay on the couch,” he replies. “Your mother and I already tolerated enough shenanigans when that Amber girl used to stay over. This isn’t a bordello.” 

Chloe’s anger flares and she steps forward to say something well-deserved but ill-advised, halted only by Kate’s gentle hand on her elbow. “I can sleep on the couch,” Kate says. “I don’t mind. I fell asleep on the bus ride here; the couch will be much more comfortable, I’m sure. Thank you, Mr. Madsen.” 

Step-douche nods at that and disappears back into the living room like some vile ghost. Chloe wishes he’d fuck off and find some other house to haunt. Chloe’s distracted from her thoughts by the soft, cool press of Kate’s lips on the corner of her jaw. Kate slips her fingers into Chloe’s and gives them a squeeze. “I’m going to go shower and get changed. Maybe I’ll feel a bit more stable then. We can figure everything else out afterward, okay?” 

“Okay,” Chloe says, turning to kiss Kate back, just a light peck at the edge of her lips. “I’ll heat up some food for you. We can talk it out once you’re warm and dry with a full stomach.”

Kate nods. “I’m probably going to cry a whole lot,” she warns. “I feel sort of numb right now, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last before I break down again.”

“I’ve got two good shoulders,” Chloe tells her. “You can cry on them all you need. I’ve got your back, Angel.”

Kate already looks a bit teary when she pulls Chloe in for a hug. “I should be calling you Angel. You’re the one saving my life here. I don’t know what I would have done tonight if I didn’t have you to run to.”

Kate wouldn’t have to run anywhere if it weren’t for Chloe, but Chloe knows that if she says that out loud Kate will only deny it, so she gives Kate a squeeze and sends her upstairs. Chloe busies herself in the kitchen, trying to focus on setting up the best dinner she can for her girlfriend rather than on the bottomless anger welling up inside of her.

“I just can’t imagine,” Joyce sighs. “And on Christmas Eve, no less! I thought you said they were Christians. What good Christian woman would throw her daughter out on Christmas Eve?”

Chloe shrugs because if she speaks she’ll only shout, and she doesn’t want Kate to hear her yelling and get upset.

Joyce stares at Chloe’s tight shoulders for a moment, her brow furrowed and jaw tensed in contemplation, and she gently takes the plate from Chloe’s hands and puts it into the microwave. “You know that I love you, Chloe. Don’t you?” 

Chloe nods, feeling like she might cry or be sick or very possibly both. It isn’t fair. Kate’s the good one. Kate deserves a family that loves and protects her. She deserves better than her mother’s rejection, her father’s inadequacy, Chloe’s bony shoulders to cry on, David’s barely-there tolerance. She deserves the world, and Chloe doesn’t know how to give it to her.

“Oh, Chloe.” Joyce pulls her into a gentle hug, and Chloe’s upset enough that she lets her, sobbing wetly into her mother’s shoulder before she can stop herself. “Chloe, Chloe. We’ll take good care of that girl. She can stay here as long as it takes.”

“Step--”

“I’ll talk to David. Don’t you worry about anythin’, Darlin’.”

Chloe wants to say something cutting about why hasn’t Joyce ‘talked to David’ about not berating her constantly, not invading her privacy, not smacking her around whenever she talks back to him rather than take his shit. But she can hear the shower turning off upstairs and she doesn’t want to get them both kicked out on Christmas Eve with nowhere to go. “Thanks, mom,” she mumbles, wiping her eyes as she pulls out of the embrace. The microwave beeps and Chloe goes to check on the food.

Kate comes downstairs a few minutes later with damp hair hanging around her shoulders, wearing one of her own sleep shirts paired with a severely oversized pair of Chloe’s pajama pants. She’s rolled the cuffs several times and they still drag on the floor. She looks soft and sweet, and Chloe just wants to wrap her up in the protective warmth of her arms and keep her safe forever, never let her go. Chloe draws back the chair in front of Kate’s steaming dinner plate. “Hope you’re hungry. Joyce always makes enough food to feed the whole town around the holidays.”

Kate sits and picks up her fork, giving Chloe a bigger smile than Chloe would’ve expected considering how traumatizing Kate’s night has been so far. “You know, I wasn’t sure I would have an appetite at all, but I’m actually famished.” She scoops up a big dollop of mashed potatoes and gobbles it down, closing her eyes in bliss. Chloe has to smile. Kate really is just too cute. She reaches over and thumbs away a smudge of gravy at the corner of Kate’s mouth. “Your mom’s a really good cook.”

“When she has time, yeah. I, uh. I’m actually a pretty decent cook, too. Had to pick up some of her skillz when it was just the two of us and she was pulling doubles at the diner all the time, y’know?”

“Hmm, good to know.” Kate slowly sets down her fork. “You know… I keep thinking I should feel worse. I should feel worse, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“Maybe. I keep thinking: I should be breaking down, my mother threw me out of the house, my sisters were crying, she’s going to tell them horrible things about me, my father failed to protect me… Most of my life is in that house. My phone, my computer, Alice. But all I can feel is relieved.”

“Relieved.” 

Kate nods pensively. “Relieved, and grateful.” She shrugs. “My family knows now. There’s no big secrets left to hide from them. I can stop worrying about what’s going to happen when they find out, because it’s already happened. I can just be my complete self now and not have to worry that it’ll get back to them somehow.” She places her hand over Chloe’s and smiles softly at her. “And grateful because I have you. Because I have a place to go and a person to go to. So many people don’t have that, but I do, and I’m so, so grateful that it’s you.”

Chloe sniffs a little even though she’s not crying - she’s not - and shifts her hand to lock her fingers with Kate’s. “I’m the one who’s grateful for you. I… I wish I had a better place for you to go. Without…” She flails her free hand inarticulately. “Fuckin’ family drama. Without having to look over your damn shoulder in case Sergeant Dickhead’s getting his rage on.” 

Kate squeezes Chloe’s hand. “Maybe… Maybe this can be a good thing. Maybe it can be an opportunity for both of us. I was thinking that when I graduate, I’ll want to move out of my parents’ place anyway, find an apartment of my own… I was, um. I was planning to ask if you wanted to join me.” 

Chloe blinks rapidly, struggling to keep up. “Wait, like… Get an apartment together? Like, move in together?” 

Kate nods shyly. “If you wanted. And now… Maybe it makes sense to start looking sooner. I don’t know if they’re going to keep paying for my dorm room now that I’ve been kicked out, and if they don’t… I mean, even if my dad is willing to keep paying for it, it’s probably better for me to get some distance.” She blushes. “If you want to, of course. It’s okay if you don’t; I didn’t mean to spring this on you so suddenly. I was going to work up to it, try to get a sense of what you wanted to do, if you even wanted to live with me--”

Chloe leans over and kisses Kate hard on the cheek to interrupt her spiral. “I’d love to.” 

Kate lights up. “Really?” 

“Really. Seriously. I can’t think of anything I’d like better. Our own place? Just you and me, able to decorate shit the way we want, to not have to lie or hide anything or walk on eggshells to keep from pissing off our parents?? Hella yes, I want that!”

“We probably won’t be able to afford anything too nice, and we’ll have to get jobs, but--” 

“Fuck, I’m game if you are. I’ll wait tables at the fucking Two Whales if I have to.” Chloe shuts up so that Kate can kiss her. “You and me, Katydid.” 

Kate rests her head on Chloe’s shoulder. “You and me. We’re going to make it work.” 

“Hell yeah, we are.” Chloe presses another kiss into Kate’s wet hair, and she sits and holds Kate and, for the first time in years, looks forward to the future.

[connieshands]

Maybe I could also use that for a bit of an introduction, even though no one asked lol. While I am writing this I am realizing this is turning into an absolute novel, so if you just want the TLDR here it is:

- Anni, German illustrator

- also born in 93 like Connie, but 100 yrs after him

- heard of him in a Kaz Rowe video (huge channel recommendation)

- really only got into him after seeing "Caligari" in a movie theatre by accident

- first because of his looks, then because of his life story and personality - him being so vocal against the Nazis and having such progressive views for his time

- other interests include history in general, Jane Austen, Thomas Mann, illustration and art, knitting, crocheting, sewing and listening to YouTube in the background, being in nature - I think I'm just a cottage core girlie at heart

My name is Anni and I am an illustrator from Germany. I am a bit of a history nerd. I love to escape into different times. Anything to get away from the capitalist hellscape we are currently trapped in.

I am especially interested in ordinary people and lives. Just the different historical ways of living in general. I love to relate to people who came before us and I am always baffled by how similar we are to them, despite what people in the modern times like to say. No, they were not savages or more stupid, they were like you and me. That's where the beauty of history lies for me. That’s why I only got into history a few years ago, because the way of conveying history in schools is so removed from anything human (and also very male centric, but that’s a different problem all together), so I just couldn’t relate.

That ramble aside - I am also queer and so one of my favorite channels on YouTube is Caz Rowe. They make incredibly well researched and presented videos about queer history and history in general. They also made an amazing video on the queer history of the Weimarer Republik and focused a portion of it on Connie. That's where I heard of him for the first time. I thought "Oh, he seems super cool. Maybe I should watch this Caligari movie" and then promptly forgot and moved on.

Skip to a year later, this May, a good friend of mine who is an absolute film nerd hit me up and asked me to go to this cool live showing in a local community theatre. They were showing some old silent film, but the cool part was that they would have live music playing while showing it. I was totally in. I had always meant to try watching old films and what could be a better introduction to them than seeing them in a cinema with live music? My friend sadly fell ill, so I had to really beat myself up to overcome my social anxiety and go alone, but holy shit - I am SO GLAD I did! Turns out that random old movie was "The cabinet of Caligari". I only realized once I sat in the theatre that that was the film that I meant to watch one year ago and I was so excited and even more impressed!

I was impressed by the art, the sets, the music, the story, the performances and of course by this beautiful goth boy that was haunting the screen. Doesn't help that I have a thing for tall, very skinny and sickly looking guys with dark hair and pretty eyes (no seriously, my boyfriend has so many similarities to him, it's eerie). And yes, his acting was impressive, but I must admit that as a first time silent movie watcher it felt a bit goofy and ridiculous to me. So call me uncultured, call me shallow, but my interest in him really stemmed from pure physical attraction to him. Not Cesare by the way, but the photos I found of Connie right after getting out of the movie theatre.

What got me hooked on him though is how fascinating his life and he as a person was. In the days after the fateful visit to the movie theatre I re-watched Caz's video to refresh myself on what they mentioned about him and this really got me on the path to researching him and his life. Every new fact I learned was as insane/ interesting or impressive as the last. Do you know what is even more attractive than being tall and beautiful and haunting? Being a badass who openly opposes the Nazis, who has insanely progressive views on social issues. Being a person who is universally commended by colleagues and friends for being kind and humble. Being the sort of person who spends their fortune to help the fight against evil and to buy poor children Christmas presents during the war.

Living in Germany, we all are heavily educated on this dark chapter of our history. To the point that we don't really learn much else about our history (also thanks to what those monsters purged from our culture and artifacts). We learn of the atrocities committed, of the horror people lived in, of peoples feelings, of the propaganda. We often hear the phrase "You can't judge the common people for what happened. You don't know what you would have done under the Nazi's threat". And I agree. Most normal people would not have the courage to do anything. To oppose this evil openly. I would never judge anyone for rather saving their own lives and that of their families, but this is why all of those who did stand up against them despite that are heroes to me.

Connie is one of them. You can argue that Connie was not an ordinary man by then. He had the privilege of being an international celebrity. This is absolutely a thing to consider. However despite this he was captured and held by the Nazis and still did not give in or concede anything to them. He did not know if his life might not have been in peril, but still he stood by his moral convictions.

This I am in awe of. This is a deeply feeling and empathetic human being. Nothing would have stood in the way of him being just another uncontroversial German film star of the time, just shutting up and not being antagonistic and just being famous and rich in the environment of Nazi Germany. He certainly wasn't in the oppressed class. Maybe because of his bisexuality but I am sure they would have gladly overlooked his past (if they even knew of that) if he had been willing to make some propaganda films for them. He didn't. Standing up for the right thing was more important to him. Could he have done even more? Sure, there is always more you can do. But he did what his career allowed him to do. Convey the evil that was happening in his home country to the best of his ability through film and then spending the fortunes he made from them on the war effort.

I think this alone makes him worth of all the admiration he got and worth keeping his story alive in remembrance. Especially now, when the evils he and so many others fought against grow once again. I think that is another reason why he and his life story stick with me so much. History seems doomed to repeat itself sooner or later. People like him give me hope and the courage to hopefully stand up for what is right when the time comes. I know what I do here are mostly thirst posts and hey, that's still a big component, but I wouldn't be half as into him if he was not such a profoundly good human being.

Him not living to see the defeat of Nazi Germany is such a devastating thought to me. I could honestly cry every time I think about that. People nowadays being ignorant, being dismissive, being bigoted makes me furious, even more so now, when I once again revisit learning about that time thanks to him. I think now more than ever before would be an amazing time to introduce people to his story (and of course many others, but this is still a Connie thirst blog so I am focusing in him) and I am so thankful to people like Caz and all the other people who work to preserve his memory.

There are so many other things I adore about him, like his whole wild queer and occult side and so on, but I think I need to quit typing for now. Wow, this got way longer than intended. I don't know if anyone will ever read this far, but if you do - hi, let's be friends! Also thank you for reading. I will refrain from writing equally as long answers to the other questions in my original post, but I wrote some quick ones at the top of this post in the TLDR. If you like to know/ talk about anything else I am always down, just hit me up. I always crave a connection with people who share my niche interests, so please feel free to write equally long replies to my questions - I will read all of them.

I'd really like to know more about my fellow Connie fans. What's your origin story? How did you get into silent movies? What about Connie captured your attention? What about him kept your attention on him? What's your favourite thing/fact about him? What are other interests of yours that are completely unrelated? How are you, just in general?

[no6secretsanta]

No.6 - Children of the Sea

Happy Holidays and an awesome New Year, @aoicanvas! I really hope you enjoy this fic! It’s me, @glorifiedscapegoat, and I’m really excited to share this with you. The concept I had kept giving me ideas, so I found myself just writing and writing for a while, and before I knew it the word count was as high as it was. I hope that’s all right!

⁂

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” — Jacques Cousteau

“Here’s your turbo,” Safu declared, sitting down opposite Shion at the booth. They were at their favorite café on the other side of Kronos, perched at one of the large window-seats overlooking the bay.

It was one of Shion’s favorite places, simply for its amazing view of the ocean. The sapphire blue waves lapped against the edge of the pier, the shush-shush sound of the ocean sending comforting prickles down his spine. During the early morning hours, the sunlight glistened across the smooth surface, the pale blue sky streaked with pale pinks and vibrant oranges.

“Oh,” Shion said in surprise as Safu slid the green foam cup across the table toward him. “Thank you. I ordered a decaf, though.”

“I canceled it. You looked like you could use the caffeine.”

Shion exhaled through his nose, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good to argue.  He thanked Safu, popped back the heat-saver from the plastic cover, then took a hesitant sip of the coffee. Safu had doused it with enough creamer and granulated sugar to keep the bitter bite of the espresso from stinging his tongue, but Shion could still feel the caffeine buzzing through him.

“Speaking of caffeine,” Safu said, taking a sip of her own coffee. Having been friends for as long as they had, Shion knew that Safu took her coffee as black as the night sky in the middle of the city, devoid of stars due to the constant streaks of artificial lighting. Shion’s nose wrinkled just thinking about it. He’d never been able to get past the bitterness of the coffee beans. “You might want to bring one to go once you finish that one. Don’t you have the new wave of summer interns starting today?”

Shion exhaled, all traces of his previous good mood fluttering out the door. “Don’t remind me.”

Summers were a difficult time for the West Block Aquarium and, more importantly, its staff. Kronos was a buzzing tourist town, and the summer months brought about college students, wealthy benefactors, and worst of all, summer interns.

“Poor thing,” Safu remarked, taking another sip of her coffee. “Well, maybe it won’t be so bad. Who knows? The interns this year could be… delightful.”

They both shuddered in unison. Shion and Safu had been friends since they were little—Grade 1, to be exact, after Safu got in trouble for punching two boys in the face who called Shion “girly” for his pretty white hair—and both had gone on to pursue careers where interns came and went through a constant revolving door.

Though Shion had obtained full-time employment as a pseudo marine biologist at the West Block Aquarium, Safu had went on to pursue a medical degree working alongside children. Her talent rested with biology (of the mammalian variety, not the aquatic), but despite the clear differences in their professions, Shion and Safu shared one similar headache: summer interns.

“So, how’s your mom doing?” Safu asked.

“She’s all right,” Shion replied. “Just getting ready for the summer rush. Tourists and all that.”

“She’s a saint.” Safu lifted her coffee cup with a solemn expression. “I don’t know how I would have gotten through my undergraduate without the croissants she sent in her care packages.”

Shion huffed out a laugh and took another sip of his coffee. He could already feel the caffeine working its way through his veins.

He allowed a bit of silence to fall around him, the only reprieve he’d get today. As soon as he left for work in an hour, his day would be consumed with learning the group dynamic in this summer’s early wave of interns, squeezing work in between answering questions for the flood of customers arriving for the first day of the summer season, and banging his head against the glass walls of the tanks he was in charge of maintaining.

Shion felt something soft rest on top of his head. He glanced up to see Safu tapping her fingers against his temple, softly going, “pomf” to herself.

He leaned back out of reach, fighting back a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out where I can purchase a brush strong enough to tame that mop of yours.” Safu took her hand back, flashing a smile. “It’s such a pretty color, and it’s a shame it just sticks up all over the place.”

“Well, it’s not my fault. I spend most of the time in the water. It’s hard to find a shampoo that can handle all that water damage.”

“Damage?” Safu reached out again and patted Shion on the top of the head. “This isn’t damage. You are the only person alive who can spend seventy-five percent of their life in water and come out with hair this soft.”

“Stop it,” Shion said, but it was light-hearted. His hair had always been a point of conflict in his life. Since the moment he was born—sporting snowy hair and bright ruby eyes—Shion had always fought off rude stares and invasive questions. His mother had helped him construct several convincing lies to help discourage people from continuing to pester him. These lies had ranged from childhood illness in Grades 1 through 4, and then expensive dye jobs during his time as a teenager. Shion had never liked the thought of dyeing his hair, but lying to folks that his bizarre hair and eye color were the results of a bottle of Manic Panic and colored contacts kept them from prying and discovering the truth.

Though, even if Shion did break down and tell people the truth—that his father was a merperson who’d seduced his human mother years ago before splitting without a trace, leaving her with a hybrid son whose hair and eyes and ability to breathe underwater were his only connection to his heritage—he doubted anyone would ever believe him.

Except for Safu.

When Shion finally broke down and told Safu the truth, she’d taken the information with a smile. Coming to terms that there were other creatures dwelling in her world came simply. Safu remarked that new species were being discovered all the time. Of course it made sense that there could be merpeople. The ocean hadn’t been completely explored, after all.

Sometimes Shion wondered why a relationship with Safu had never occurred to him. She was a beautiful girl, and always had been; petite with straight brown hair that fell to her shoulders (she’d let it grow out in recent years), dark eyes that saw everything, and a friendly smile that invited people to let their guard down. More than that, Safu was amazingly kind… to the people she liked. She never judged anyone unless they gave her a reason to assume they were judging her, and she was fiercely protective of her friends.

When they were teenagers, Safu had expressed feelings for Shion that he hadn’t been able to reciprocate. Maybe it was because Safu was accustomed to rejection, or maybe it was because she was just a wonderful, loving person, but Shion’s gentle apology in his inability to return her feelings hadn’t stopped her from remaining his best friend.

And when Shion came staggering home one night and called her, squealing with excitement that he’d found someone like him—someone from the sea—Safu had squealed and gushed with him.

Shion shook the thought away before he could dwell on it. Remembering the summers he spent between the ages of sixteen and nineteen were painful for him. He’d formed a romance with a boy from the sea, a boy Shion could picture himself spending the rest of his life with, and then, without explanation or reason, he’d simply vanished into thin air. Zip. Poof. Gone. As if he’d never been there in the first place.

"Hey, Shion. Earth to Shion.”

He looked up. “Huh?”

Safu took one look at his face, and instantly, she knew. “Thinking about Nezumi again?”

Hearing his name sent a knife through Shion’s heart. “No,” he said, but the lie was pointless. He’d never been any good at telling lies to Safu.

Safu clicked her tongue. When Nezumi stopped showing up at the beach, Safu had been furious. She ranted and raved for months about him, furious that he could break Shion’s heart like that. When the next summer came and he still didn’t show up, Safu’s anger cooled into concern. When another year passed, she and Shion mutually agreed that something awful must have happened to Nezumi and tried to mourn.

“Do you want to talk about it,” she said gently, “or change the subject?”

“Change the subject, please.”

“Of course.” Safu took a deep breath, composing her thoughts, and then she said, somewhat loudly, “Well, it won’t be so bad, right? How long do summer internships last at the aquarium, again?”

“Three months,” Shion said, grateful for the change in topic. He took all the pent-up feelings he still had toward Nezumi, even now, and shoved them to the side. If they festered there and turned into a cancerous tumor, he’d deal with it when that time came.

“Ugh, lucky. Our internships last six months.”

“Aren’t all of your interns medical students, though?” Shion stole a brief glance out the window. He wondered if he would catch a familiar flash of black and silver, and then promptly scolded himself for daring to hope.

“Yes, and most of them are lovely. But then you have those ones.” Safu rolled her eyes, and Shion instantly knew which ones she meant.

The children of wealthy parents whose only major contribution to the field was that they spent a lot of money and therefore expected that their children could sail through the program without any effort. Shion had dealt with plenty of those types, too, working at the aquarium. Wealthy donors often assumed a nice dosage of cash would land their children a high-paying, low-effort job once they finished their degree program. Shion lost count of the number of arguments he and other coworkers had had with interns whose ultimate defense was the phrase: “Do you have any idea who my parents are?”

"Maybe this year will be different,” Shion said, not at all confident. He’d been working full-time at the West Block Aquarium for two years, since he turned twenty-two, and not once had a summer internship term been “different”.

“It could be,” Safu replied solemnly. She and Shion shared a mutual nod, and then smiled.

⁂

With traffic, it was a forty-minute drive across downtown Kronos, and another three minutes to find a halfway decent parking space in front of the West Block Aquarium that didn’t result in Shion needing to sprint across the parking lot like a lunatic in order to clock in on time.

Shion smoothed his hands through his hair, pressing the tangled locks down against his skull. They bounced back up as he dropped his hands to his sides, and he gave up trying to look presentable.

His white hair, no matter how smooth or messy it was, always attracted attention from the college interns the aquarium employed. Most of them thankfully assumed it was just a dye job—an expensive, extremely thorough dye job, but a dye job nonetheless—but it elicited more than a few stares every year.

Shion scanned his ID badge at the employee entrance and ducked inside. He let the heavy metal door bang shut behind him, sighing as he stepped into the foyer of the employee lounge, cooled by the strong air conditioning unit Rikiga had installed. He tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash can, briefly considering using the Keurig to make himself another cup.

"Hey, Shion.”

Shion turned and spotted his coworker, Yamase, sitting at one of the little brown tables. He clutched a travel mug of tea—Yamase never liked drinking coffee, remarking that no matter how much creamer and sugar he doused it with, he could still taste the “disgusting bean water”—and he looked utterly exhausted.

Shion’s stomach plummeted. “Interns?”

“Interns,” Yamase agreed bitterly.

Shion huffed out a breath and went to the Keurig. “Please tell me there’s at least a few halfway decent ones.”

He prided himself on being an optimist—it was one of his best qualities, according to his mom, Safu, and everyone else he’d ever talked to, and Shion was pretty certain it was the primary reason Rikiga had given him the job in the first place—but something about summer interns made even someone with Shion’s extensive threshold for patience eager for the workday to end.

“Rikiga’s already deep into his cup,” Yamase explained, rolling his eyes. “Big surprise. Anyway, I’ve only met the first few, and supposedly, we’ve got two others starting tomorrow.”

“So, what exactly are we dealing with?” Shion popped a K-cup into the machine and hit brew. He shoved a paper cup beneath the dispenser and listened to the whir of the machine as the water heated up.

Yamase took a deep sip of his tea. “Well, there’s a girl who’s just started her second year at the community college who thinks she wants to go into marine biology. Kudos and all that, but she’s already expecting that we’ll hire her once she graduates since she’s interning with us.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah,” Yamase groaned. “You know how that’s gonna go. I wonder if we’ll have the parents down here again. You remember that?”

Shion shuddered. “How could I forget?” He could still hear the shrill sound of the woman’s voice as she shrieked at Rikiga in the lobby about why he’d rejected her daughter’s application for full-time employment after she’d “slaved away all summer at this dirty, stinking place, and for what?” Never mind that Shion had found her in the employee lounge multiple times during her shift, sneaking alcohol and trying to steal merchandise from the gift shop when she thought no one was looking.

“Maybe she’ll be a good fit,” Shion said, a little too hopefully.

“She bounces when she talks,” Yamase said drily.

"Excuse me?”

“Like full on hops on her heels.” Yamase gave a small demonstration, bouncing twice in his chair before widening his eyes and giving Shion a blank, dead stare. “She also talks like this.” He raised his voice up at the end, almost as if he were asking a question. “With an upward inflection at the end of it. As if she has no idea what she’s doing here.”

“That is so creepy,” Shion shuddered. “Please stop.”

“You think that’s creepy. Try listening to her do it.” Yamase sighed and took a deep gulp from his travel mug. “The lights are definitely on, but no one’s been home for years.”

Shion pinched the bridge of his nose. Wonderful. Just what the aquarium needed. He plucked his cup from the Keurig and dumped a healthy heaping of sugar and creamer packets into the cup.

“The new hire for the gift shop’s hot, though,” Yamase said.

Shion raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Don’t worry—he’s our age,” Yamase assured. “I checked. Not in college, as far as I can tell. Just looking for some extra cash at a part-time job or something. And you know I’m not really into guys, but dang, something about this guy just… I don’t know. Just wait until you see him.” Yamase exhaled. “It’s his eyes, man.”

Shion huffed out a laugh and took a sip of his coffee. After the turbo Safu had ordered for him, it felt watered down and weak, but Shion savored the buzz of caffeine.

“He must be something, then,” Shion said, “if you’ve noticed him.”

“You have no idea. You’re single, right? Maybe you have a shot.”

Shion clicked his tongue. “You sound like Safu.”

"Well, maybe you should start listening to us!” Yamase tipped his head back and finished off the last of his tea. “Maybe we should strong-arm your mother into it. I’m sure that’d make you start looking.”

Shion couldn’t help but smile. He’d tried dating during his undergraduate, and it hadn’t worked. All the men he went out with made snide comments about his hair— “Do the carpets match the drapes? Ha ha, just kidding. Unless…?”—or thought his fascination with sea life bordered on obsessive. Shion wouldn’t have felt comfortable letting them know the truth: that his “obsession” with sea life stemmed from the fact that he came from the same place.

And besides, none of them had made him feel the way Nezumi had.

Not only did Nezumi come from the ocean—Shion could picture the black and blue scales on his long, elegant tail perfectly, like obsidian and sapphires, and his beautiful silver eyes, like the edge of a blade in the sunlight—he never thought Shion’s ramblings were bizarre. He laughed at him, sure, but it was good-natured and beautiful, like the chiming of bells. He could swim faster and deeper than Shion, and he brought him pretty shells and oysters containing pearls from the bottom of the sea where Shion couldn’t swim without raising more than a few eyebrows.

During their summer interactions as teenagers, Shion had never been able to convince Nezumi to come onto the shore. He knew it was possible—his own father had done it years ago—but whenever he asked, Nezumi quickly changed the subject.

Shion’s heart ached, his eyes stinging. The last time he saw Nezumi, they had been eighteen years old. He could still feel the brush of Nezumi’s lips against his own, tasting of saltwater. Shion could have kissed him forever.

Shion quickly shook the thoughts away. He couldn’t afford to get caught up on thoughts of Nezumi anymore. He needed to focus on the new interns and aquarium employees.

Yamase rose and rinsed his travel mug in the sink. The dark blue of his janitor’s uniform stood out against the stark gray walls of the employee lounge. “Well, count yourself lucky you don’t have to deal with most of the interns. You spend most of your time in Number Six. I’m the one who’s gotta spend the whole day trapped in the gift shop.”

Shion cracked a smile. Number Six was the main tank in the direct center of the aquarium, the first major exhibit available as soon as customers walked through the door. Shion’s primary job was to jump into the tank every couple of hours, toss smelt and other dead things at the bigger fish, ensure that the pH levels were safe, and make sure the sand tigers didn’t bully the nurse sharks. Shion never would have pegged sharks to have some weird social hierarchy, but it was there. He’d lost count of the times he’d had to chase away the sand tiger with the blunt snout (who he’d affectionally nicknamed Snubby) from the large nurse shark (Nurse Anne) with the chunk bitten out of her dorsal fin.

Number Six was also known to Yamase and the other janitors as the BFT: the Big Fucking Tank. Shion didn’t like calling it that, but he supposed when the janitors spent most of their shift spraying Windex on the glass and wiping away fingerprints and saliva—seriously, did little kids lick everything?—it made sense they would come to hate it.

The majority of the interns and summer hires started out as cashiers in the gift shop. During his dips in Number Six, Shion could spot the little alcove through the glass, watching as the interns in their bright green tee-shirts displaying the West Block Aquarium logo fumbled through each transaction.

“I wonder if the wannabee marine biologist will try to jump in the tank with you,” Yamase said, eyeing Shion in his periphery. “She doesn’t seem thrilled about the idea of starting as a cashier.”

“They all start out as cashiers,” Shion replied, taking another sip of his coffee. It had already begun to go cold. “She shouldn’t expect special treatment. Retail work can be humbling.”

"Is it twisted that I love watching the rich kids get screamed at by entitled jerks?” Yamase’s dark eyes flashed as he turned to face Shion. “Like, I know retail’s rough and all, but some of these kids are so fucking bratty, and seeing the looks on their faces when they realize that no one cares about how much money they have just warms my heart.”

Shion shook his head. “You’re awful,” he said, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Yup, and you’re equally as awful. I know you enjoy it, too.” Yamase put his travel mug back into the cupboard where the rest of the employees kept their spare mugs. “Well, I need to get out there and make sure the place is ready for opening. Finish up your coffee. You’re gonna need it. You know they’re probably gonna ask about the hair.”

“And the eyes,” Shion sighed. “They always do.”

“You could dye it.”

“Safu would literally kill me.”

Yamase rolled his eyes. “She might, but wouldn’t it be better than dealing with another wave of ‘wait, they let marine biologists dye their hair? Can you wear contacts underwater? Duuuuude.’”

Shion fought back a shudder. Too many times he’d had to deflect questions surrounding his odd hair color and the piercing shade of his irises. Albinism was a rare trait in humans, and Shion’s skin wasn’t nearly pale enough to pass for it. The odd red marking on his skin—scaled, if people looked close enough, which Shion never let anyone do—definitely shattered the illusion. Shion had hoped people would have a bit of common decency and not ask such invasive questions, but he was often disappointed. Almost every summer, someone cornered him in the break room and demanded to know why his hair was so white, what made his eyes red, how many bleaches did it take to achieve that color, did people think he was less professional because he looked like he was cosplaying all the time?

Sometimes Shion wondered if he should joke that he was a merman. Well, half a merman, anyway.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he could hear Nezumi’s voice snap, “Child of the Sea! Not merman. That’s a human word.” His mood instantly darkened, and Shion shook his head.

“Child of the Sea” was the preferred term in the underwater community, or so Shion had been told. Only human beings used words like “mermaid” and “merman”. Despite the wave of sorrow that Shion felt whenever the thought of Nezumi came rushing back, he couldn’t help the small flicker of warmth that kindled itself in his heart.

“Well,” Yamase sighed. “I’m heading back. Rip the Band-Aid off.”

“All right.”

“See you in a few,” Yamase replied with a wave, ducking out into the hallway. “Good luck!”

Shion exhaled and took another sip of his cool coffee. Summer interns. At least he had a reprieve from them when he dove into the tank. He took a few moments to sip his coffee, reveling in the silence he knew would soon be broken. Ah, well. It was only eight-thirty in the morning. Seven o’clock would come soon enough.

⁂

Shion finished his coffee, pulled on his white lab coat, and trotted out to the main foyer. The West Block Aquarium opened at ten o’clock on the dot—despite his active drinking and usual forgetfulness, Rikiga was oddly punctual—and the first hour would be spent preparing for the shift and greeting the interns and summer help.

Shion plastered a big smile on his face and tried to be positive. Summer interns were frustrating, but he had to remember that he was once in their shoes, too. Several years ago, he’d been a bright-eyed intern working at this same aquarium. Ignoring his obvious one-up over the other interns—primarily the fact that he could breathe underwater (secretly, of course) and understood ocean life in a way that astounded his professors and quickly moved him through his undergraduate degree with flying colors—he’d enjoyed working alongside other interns.

As he hurried toward the main foyer, stationed direction in front of Number Six, he couldn’t help but marvel at the decorations welcoming the new wave of summer customers. Bright plastic statues of sea lions and talking starfish lined the floors, gesturing toward the hallways and announcing exhibits. Neat signs with fun facts and information about the exhibit inhabitants sat in front of glass cages, and the sound of rushing water sounded like music to Shion’s ears.

Shion trotted almost everywhere. His colleagues joked that he was always in a hurry. Shion didn’t know if it was because he moved faster in the water than on land, even without the function of a tail, but he couldn’t help it. He jogged everywhere he went: meetings, feedings, the break room. Sometimes he worried he looked ridiculous—a young man in a white lab coat with obviously dyed hair (ha) jogging like a toddler through the aquarium—but if he did, no one commented one way or the other about it.

The four-story tank, illuminated with bright LED lights at the base and on each conjoining floor, wrapping upward in a slanted ramp like a makeshift spiral staircase, rose into view as Shion stepped out into the main exhibit. The brightly-colored tropical fish swam lazily through the teal water, their dark eyes staring blankly out at Shion as he approached the two individuals standing near the door, awaiting his arrival.

Shion swallowed the wave of frustration that surged inside him, caging it behind his clenched teeth as he kept the smile plastered on his face His colleagues had left him to deal with the new interns on his own.

Ha ha, funny.

As he approached the two interns—a young woman with vibrant pink hair (clearly a dye job, and a rather inexpensive one, at that, if the blond roots at the top were any indication) and a young man with dark hair yanked back into a ponytail, both dressed in the bright green West Block Aquarium staff shirt—the girl broke away from the tank and came sprinting up toward Shion.

“Oh, hi!” she shrieked, her voice piercing through the vacant walls of the aquarium. It carried, so sharp and sudden that Shion felt as if a knife had been drilled into his ear.

He flinched—the other intern did, too—and jerked to a halt.

“You must be Shion, right? Mr. Rikiga mentioned you’d be stopping by!” The girl clapped her hands, as if the idea of meeting Shion was too exciting to be contained inside her little body. “I’m so excited to be working with you! My name’s Miyamoto Emi, but my friends call me Emi-chan. Oh, darn, can I call you Shion, or is that too informal? Gosh, this is so exciting!”

Shion gawked down at the girl, unsure of what to say. She looked about twenty years old, short in a way that was noticeable even to someone like Shion. He wasn’t very tall, himself—he rose to a respectable five-feet-seven-inches—and this girl rose to the middle of his chest. She tipped her head back to look into his face, her dark brown eyes wide with excitement, and yep, there was the bouncing Yamase had mentioned. With each syllable that left her mouth, she rose an inch off the ground and then came down hard on her heels. She wore a pair of black flip-flops (definitely not regulation, according to the employee handbook, which Rikiga definitely didn’t enforce), and the rubber soles thumped rhythmically on the solid tile floor.

“Mr. Rikiga said you were a marine biologist,” Emi went on. “That must be so exciting. I’ve wanted to be a marine biologist since I was a little girl. I’ve always loved turtles, and I just wanna be able to work with them. Oh, wow!” Her eyes widened further—how was that possible?—and she stared at Shion’s white hair.

His stomach plummeted.

“Your hair—” she said, a shriek building in her throat. Shion could see it. Her shoulders quaked beneath the force of it, her whole body unable to contain the sheer joy that came from seeing Shion’s pristine white hair coupled with his lab coat. “Where do you get your hair done? Do you do it yourself? My friend Mariko did my hair”—she grabbed a lock of her own pink hair and shoved it toward Shion—“but it doesn’t look nearly as good as yours does!”

“Um, thank you.” Shion gave her a wobbly smile. This was a new development. Sometimes the interns were cold and stand-offish, and sometimes they were uninterested in the position.

This, however? This was new.

Shion felt his head spinning as he tried to focus on the girl bouncing in front of him. He glanced over her shoulder, seeking out the second intern. The young man was staring at Emi as if she’d just exploded and scattered across the foyer in an array of glitter. His hair framed his face, long and pulled into a high ponytail. He had a narrow, pale face, and Shion wondered briefly if this was the young man Yamase had mentioned back in the break room. He squinted over Emi’s head—where did she get the energy to keep bouncing like this?—examining the young man’s face to see what about him Yamase had been so taken by.

The young man was tall and thin, his hair a dark shade of black that Shion suspected would look blue in certain lighting. Even with the fluorescent bulbs in the aquarium itself, he could pick out the few pale gray strands and blue bits that made the young man’s hair beautiful rather than plain. His skin was far too pale for the lime-green of the staff shirt, and it made him look sickly and washed out.

He lifted his head to give Shion a look that clearly read ‘Poor you’, and Shion managed to get a good look at his eyes.

It’s his eyes, man.

Two bright silver coins stared back at Shion, narrowed in a way that Shion recognized as someone trying to figure out where they recognized someone from. His stomach twisted. Flecks of blue and white danced behind a pale of solid silver glass, shifting depending on his mood. When he was happy, they were vibrant and luminous. When he was aggravated, they darkened like the sky over a stormy sea. Shion had seen them in almost every variant, and he stood there, dumbstruck, as the young man stared into his face, too—taking in his bright red irises, the red marking wrapped around his throat, and his vibrant white hair—and finally, finally recognized him.

His jaw dropped. It was an almost comical look, but he managed to make it look beautiful. He unfolded his arms from across his chest, letting them fall limply at his sides.

“Shion?” he said.

His voice. His voice. Shion could still hear it in his memories. The peals of laughter, the shouts whenever they argued, the gentle songs he sang. All of it came flooding back in a crushing wave that made Shion feel as if he were drowning. His lungs were designed to pull oxygen both on land and beneath the surface. Shion would never know how it felt to drown in earnest—but standing across from Nezumi, the boy he’d fallen in love with in his youth, the boy who’d claimed his first kiss, the boy who’d left one day and never come back, Shion wondered if this was how it felt to have all the air knocked out of him once and for all.

Emi’s bright smile never left her face, but her eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh. Do you know two each other?” She looked over her shoulder at the young man—at Nezumi—and clapped her hands. “That’s so exciting!”

“Um,” Shion said, taking a trembling step backward. The room around him crushed inward, the air tight and thick. He swallowed once, finding it difficult to breathe. “Yes, um…”

Nezumi’s shocked expression shifted into concern, and Shion felt himself edging toward a full-on breakdown. Shards of glass punched through his stomach, heat and pain radiating through each pulse point in his body until it was all he could feel. He couldn’t sense the solid tiles beneath his feet or the air conditioner churning above his head. His vision tunneled, blocking out everything except the young man standing in front of him—standing! On legs!—in his ridiculous staff tee shirt and his khaki pants, looking every bit like the beautiful, otherworldly creature he was once he stepped into the ocean.

“Ah, w-well,” Shion managed, the words heavy as stones on his tongue. “W-welcome to the West Block Aquarium. So nice to be working with you both. Um, I have to, ah, feed the fish in the BFT now. Ah, I mean, in Number Six. The big tank behind you. Yup, that’s Number Six. I’m sure Mr. Rikiga will tell you all about it as part of the tour.”

“Shion,” Nezumi said, and his voice was equally as wobbly. He took a step forward, and panic surged through Shion’s body like an injection of ice water.

”Goodbye!” Shion spun on his heel and fled back toward the break room. There was an elevator in the far back, reserved for employee usage and available for disabled customers, and if Shion input the code into the panel, it would go to the floor linking to the observatory room for Number Six. It wasn’t available to the public, reserved for marine biologists like Shion to record the pH balances of the tank and the weights of each animal.

His shoes smacked against the tile as he hurried toward the hallway leading to the elevator. The twisting halls that stretched past the rooms dedicated to shells and the horseshoe crab touch tank—popular with the children and high school customers—and Shion rounded them quickly, searching desperately for the signs leading to the elevator.

“Shion, wait!”

Shion whirled and saw Nezumi hurrying up the ramp toward him. He stumbled a bit as he ran, as if he’d been sitting down for a long time and his legs hadn’t quite adjusted to movement. The fluorescent lights caught against the strands of his hair, and the lime green of the staff shirt clashed horribly with his khaki pants and pale skin.

He looked ridiculous. He looked amazing. He looked—

Alive.

“You’re alive,” Shion said, his voice sounding stupid in his ears.

Nezumi stumbled to a stop a few steps in front of him. He was wearing heavy black combat boots (completely against regulation, since the soles weren’t non-marking), and one pant leg of his cargo pants was tucked in while the other hung frustratingly loose around his ankle. “Yeah,” he said, sounding equally as stupid and just as wonderful as Shion remembered. “Yeah, I’m alive.”

“But—” Shion fumbled for something, anything, and came up short. “You—you vanished! You stopped coming to the beach.”

Nezumi winced. “I know.”

The prickles of cold were replaced with agitation that dug like thorns in his body. “I waited for you,” he said, low and harsh. “Every day for months. Years. And you—you never came back.”

Nezumi flinched back as if Shion had ripped one of the decorative plywood sea turtles off the wall and chucked it at him. “I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Shion barked out a laugh. “Five years of no contact—nothing—and now you show up here, at my work, to tell me you’re sorry?”

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Nezumi said.

“Then why are you here? You sure as hell can’t be a university student!”

Nezumi’s silver eyes flashed in the vibrant LED lights. “I’ve never heard you swear before,” he murmured wondrously, as if it was the most amazing thing in the world.

“Don’t change the subject!” Shion growled. “Where the hell do you get off just—”

“I wanted to come back,” Nezumi interjected. He didn’t raise his voice (which only aggravated Shion further), and he kept his hands at his side. Shion couldn’t help staring at each of his long, elegant fingers, remembering how they felt running over his cheek or brushing through his hair while they swam.

“Then why didn’t you?” Shion’s heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing through his ears. “You kissed me, said goodnight, and then you just vanished. For five years, Nezumi.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Nezumi said, raising his voice just a little. Shion could hear it in his voice that he was struggling not to yell, that he didn’t really have the right to yell. “Something happened, and as much as you meant to me, I couldn’t just—”

Those words stabbed through Shion’s chest like arrows. It’d taken Nezumi three years—three long, painful years—to finally say the words I love you. Shion hadn’t held it against him. Nezumi didn’t express his feelings through words. He translated them in his actions. Shion felt his love in the way he found ways to maintain physical contact when they were together. He felt Nezumi’s love each time Nezumi brought him pretty shells from the deeper parts of the ocean floor.

Shion knew how much he meant to Nezumi. And as angry as he was at Nezumi’s unexpected disappearance, the fact that he was here now must have meant something.

Shion opened his mouth to speak—to say what, he didn’t know—and Emi came trotting down the hallway, huffing and puffing as if it’d taken all her energy to catch up with them.

“There—,” she gasped dramatically, doubling over and pressing her hand against her chest. “There you two are! Why did you run away?”

Nezumi glanced over at her, and Shion took the opportunity to escape. “It’s nothing. Nezumi’s an old friend” —he didn’t miss the way Nezumi flinched— “and things were… well, it’s complicated. But this isn’t the place for it.”

Emi’s dark brown eyes widened. “Ooh?” She looked at Shion, then at Nezumi, and then back. She clapped her hands together. “What’s this? A secret romance?”

“The hell?” Nezumi muttered, despite everything.

“Emi,” Shion said firmly, “now is neither the time nor the place. Now,” he added, looking at the clock suspended from the wall. “I believe you two are due for orientation. Mr. Rikiga will be expecting you.”

“Ooh, you’re right! We don’t wanna be late!” Emi spun on her heel and reached out for Nezumi’s wrist. “Come on, uh, Nezumi, was it? Weird. We’re gonna be late!”

Nezumi withdrew his wrist from Emi’s reach and turned to look at Shion. “I’m out at noon,” he said carefully. Shion’s shoulders shot to his ears, the words slicing through him like a bullet. “Can we talk then?”

“I’m not free until after the aquarium closes,” Shion replied. He didn’t know why he said it, but it wouldn’t do him any good to lie. Nezumi would probably figure out his schedule soon enough anyway.

“That’s fine. How about I meet you here after work?” Nezumi lowered his voice so that Emi, already skipping back toward the main foyer, wouldn’t overhear. “I get it if you tell me to fuck off, but… I’d like to explain myself.”

“All right,” Shion mumbled. “I’ll meet you outside the employee entrance at seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be here,” Nezumi said. There was so much strength and conviction in his voice that Shion couldn’t help but meet his eye. The fluorescent lights caught in his irises as he repeated, slower, “I will be here, Shion.”

“Sure,” Shion whispered, and he watched as Nezumi turned and headed back toward the foyer. He seemed to stumble a bit, but even that seemed inhumanly graceful. Shion’s heart ached as he watched him leave.

Eventually, his duties as a dedicated marine biologist convinced him to seek out the elevator, punch in the code to the Number Six observatory floor, and strip out of his lab coat, button-down, and slacks in favor of his West Block Aquarium scuba suit. Dark blue with lime green accents, it was Shion’s least favorite piece of work equipment, simply for its pointlessness. He was a Child of the Sea—at least fifty percent of him was—and scuba gear was wasted on someone who could breathe underwater.

But he couldn’t exactly drop into the forty-foot tank without his gear in front of tourists.

Shion struggled into his scuba suit, his heart hammering a thousand miles a minute. His hands shook as he zipped up his wetsuit, fumbling with the useless air tank (he could breathe underwater, damn it, but the tourists and the interns and his boss couldn’t know that) and all the tubes in their proper place to pump oxygen uselessly into his lungs.

Shion sat on the edge of the top level of Number Six, his vision blurring red and gray. His bright yellow swim fins felt ridiculous and artificial—even though Shion had never been able to grow a tail of his own, his legs more than strong enough to propel him through the water—and his whole body buzzed with anxiety. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself in a way that proved to be completely ineffective, and then he tumbled backward into Number Six.

Sinking down into the depths, Shion let the cold water collapse around him and smother the heat of embarrassment and anger and relief that churned inside him. He sank downward through a small school of colorful fish and past Trudgealong (a withered sea turtle with a no-nonsense attitude), squeezing his eyes closed behind the useless face mask and trying to breathe.

Goddammit.

Nezumi’s shocked face flashed behind his closed eyelids. His voice echoed in Shion’s skull like a pissed off bee, and no matter how hard Shion fought it, he couldn’t help but remember how it had felt to sink beneath the waves with Nezumi guiding him by the wrist, propelling them both along the coral reefs much more quickly than Shion could move on his own.

Shion shook away the thoughts and focused on eying the occupants of Number Six and taking mental notes on their overall health.

For the most part, the fish and assorted sharks looked decent. Shion could sense the increased buzz of excitement radiating from them; he couldn’t “speak to fish”, and Nezumi had confirmed that no Child of the Sea could. He could, however, sense when they were comfortable or agitated.

The fish in Number Six enjoyed the summer rush far more than the staff at the West Block Aquarium did. Snubby, for example, seemed to enjoy preening in front of children who remarked on his crooked teeth and blunt nose with loud shouts to their parents and pointing fingers. These were Snubby’s point of pride, and he swam quickly around the tank to ensure everyone got a good look. If Snubby were a human or a Child of the Sea, Shion felt the two of them wouldn’t get along very well. Fortunately, for both of them, Snubby couldn’t talk.

Beneath the cool saltwater, the red marking wrapped around Shion’s body chilled. These were the only “scales” Shion had on his body, and something about being in the water gave them a more aquatic appearance. The otherwise smooth red marking bristled and slotted with patterns, and if Shion ran his bare finger over it, it would feel bumpy and slick. The vibrant color made him wonder if this would be the color his tale would be if he could grow one in water. Sometimes he disliked not being able to grow one the way Nezumi and other Children of the Sea could, but Nezumi had never made him feel bad for it. In fact, Nezumi claimed, based on the stories he’d been told, Shion was lucky. The tradeoff for most Children of the Sea was that while they could grow tails in water, their legs were weak on land. Some of the most graceful Children of the Sea turned into complete klutzes on the surface.

As a teenager, Shion had laughed himself sick at the prospect of beautiful, elegant Nezumi being reduced to a tripping mess on the land. He often wondered if that was why Nezumi would never come up on land. Nezumi was a proud creature, and Shion often wondered if his pride could survive face-planting on the sand.

But now Nezumi was on land.

Shion shook his head. Don’t think about it right now.

Shion bit down on the breathing apparatus stuffed in his mouth. Something deep inside him made him glance down to the foyer through the clear, teal water. Through the glass several floors down, Shion could see Emi and Nezumi standing in front of Rikiga. Shion watched his boss lazily drift his hand through the air, giving them both the same spiel he gave each intern at the beginning of their first shift. Emi continued to bounce on the balls of her feet, looking ready to explode into a thousand pieces. And Nezumi…

Nezumi looked up into the tank. His eyes met Shion’s, even several stories down, and he lifted his hand to wave at him.

Shion didn’t know what compelled him, but he lifted his gloved hand and waved back.

⁂

At fifteen past seven, when the aquarium had officially closed and the majority of the staff had clocked out and gone home, Shion stood outside the employee entrance, arms wrapped around himself in a desperate attempt to keep from falling apart.

Seven-thirty. Nezumi had promised to come back to the aquarium at seven-thirty and meet Shion at the employee entrance.

Shion eyed the cars zipping down the street on the opposite end of the empty parking lot. The West Block Aquarium emptied out pretty quick after the doors closed. None of the staff were eager to pull extra hours, and Rikiga didn’t offer overtime. Shion was an exception—the only one on Rikiga’s staff who was salary—and if Rikiga happened to spot his car still in the lot, it wouldn’t have raised any eyebrows.

He leaned back against the brick wall, the warm stones heating the fabric of his lab coat. He didn’t know why he bothered wearing it. Shion spent most of his time submerged in the tanks, but the lab coat made him feel normal. Human. He didn’t mind being a hybrid, not at all, but it was lonely not having someone like him to confide in.

Shion flexed his fingers. He still remembered the day he and Nezumi met. Shion had been walking down the beach—because what else was a gainfully unemployed sixteen-year-old to do on a sunny summer day in a bustling tourist town—and growing anxious amidst the screaming toddlers and indifferent mothers in their floppy sunhats, Shion had sought out a place where he could dive underwater and go missing for a bit.

Diving under the waves and vanishing, however, wouldn’t work with an audience. People stared at him because of his weird hair (even in a tourist town where teenagers dyeing their hair ridiculous colors was well within the norm), and if he went underwater and didn’t resurface, he’d have the Coast Guard called on him in no time.

Climbing the rocks clustered on the left side of the beach and walking another mile from the main beach, Shion sought out a strip of soft white beach where he could sprint in and vanish. The broken pier attached to the boardwalk (abandoned for months after a nasty embezzling scandal leaked to the press) rose into view, and Shion’s mood brightened.

He ducked beneath the pier, preparing to slip beneath the waves—and lo and behold, tangled in a net and cursing up a storm had been Nezumi.

A fisherman’s net had tangled around him as he skimmed the bottom of the water, and Nezumi had managed to break the net from the boat (rightfully confusing the fishermen in the process, who must have assumed they’d wrangled a shark), but the tight coils had knotted around his fins. Unwilling to be a sitting duck for a bigger predator (believe it or not, Children of the Sea were not the top of the food chain), Nezumi had desperately sought a strip of beach where he could safely work on pulling the net off his tail.

Immediately springing into action, Shion had deftly untangled the knots, whispering to Nezumi that he’d have him free in no time. His mind buzzed with excitement—someone like him was sitting right there—but it didn’t feel like an appropriate time to gush.

Nezumi, who’d growled at Shion when he first approached, went painfully still. His silver eyes, so beautiful and unlike anything Shion had ever seen before, watched each movement of his hands as he worked the net carefully off his fins. Shion fought his own urges to brush his fingers against the dark black and blue scales, jealous and enamored of something he should have had but didn’t, and after a few minutes of careful working, he tossed the vicious net aside and said, brightly, “There! You’re free.”

“Much obliged,” Nezumi muttered, and then, before Shion could blink, Nezumi’s hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked him into the water.

The shock of the cool ocean made Shion gasp; that had probably been Nezumi’s intention. With a few powerful flicks of his tail, Nezumi propelled them away from the shore, banking downward into the deeper ends of the shallows.

“You saved me, human,” Nezumi’s voice purred in his ear, sending goosebumps skittering down his bare arms. “So, I suppose it’s only fair to reward you.”

Drowning is a reward? Shion had thought. He’d opened his mouth to tell Nezumi that drowning wouldn’t work on him, that he wasn’t human—and Nezumi’s mouth closed over his own.

Shion’s eyes widened. Nezumi’s mouth was cool, but his soft lips sent waves of warmth through each nerve ending in Shion’s body. His eyes slid shut, the gentle shifts of the ocean waves rustling above his head. Tendrils of Nezumi’s long, dark hair brushed against his cheeks. Shion fought the urge to reach his hands out and brush his fingers through it, wondering at how soft it would feel.

An eternity later, Nezumi drew back, his arms still wrapped around Shion’s shoulders. Shion swallowed a mouthful of seawater and opened his eyes.

Nezumi’s silver eyes hovered a few inches in front of his own. He looked down at Shion—still alive, still staring at him in wonder—and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “You…” he said slowly. “You’re not drowning.”

“I am not.”

“You’re… like me?”

"Yeah. Well, half, anyway.”

“Oh,” Nezumi said, and that had been the beginning of it all.

From the moment Shion laid eyes on Nezumi, he’d known there was something different about him. Not just because he had a tail and looked like a god, but because he wasn’t like anyone else Shion had ever met in his life.

Nezumi had a vicious sense of humor. Nezumi was sarcastic and cold. He mocked Shion and poked fun at his wetsuit—black with bright red accents, because it made him feel at least somewhat attractive and it was comfortable—and he never understood how Shion could enjoy walking around on land when there was a whole ocean to explore.

But there was so much more to Nezumi than his sarcasm. He loved listening to stories. His laugh sounded like bells. He sang songs when he and Shion were alone, and he knocked Safu off her surfboard as a joke until she kicked him in the shoulder and tried to wrestle him underwater, both of them shrieking with laughter.

“Shion!”

He lifted his head, startled from his memories, and spotted Nezumi hurrying across the parking lot.

It was strange, seeing him with a pair of legs rather than a long black tail, but at least he’d changed out of the vibrant green tee-shirt Rikiga insisted his staff members wear to be more visible. Shion had never been more grateful than the day he’d been given permission to wear whatever he wanted as long as he wore a lab coat over it during work hours. As the son of Rikiga’s good friend (Crush, Safu insisted, and Shion gallantly ignored her), Shion received something akin to “special treatment” from Rikiga, though he never asked for it.

He was still wearing the cargo pants and black boots he’d been wearing earlier, but in place of the tee shirt was a black leather jacket that Shion had to admit looked stunning on him. It mixed well with his long, dark hair and piercing eyes; it was a wonder that he’d made it to the aquarium at all. How did he get through each day without a horde of people swarming around him?

Shion looked down at his cell phone. The screen flashed its white numbers, announcing seven-twenty-five. Shion’s heart skipped a bit, and he tried to compose himself as Nezumi trotted up beside him.

“You’re early,” he said softly.

“Didn’t want to risk being late,” Nezumi replied. “You don’t deserve that.”

Shion huffed through his nose. “Let’s go inside. We can talk there.”

“OK,” Nezumi mumbled.

Shion let them in the employee entrance. He shut the door behind them, then made a bee line for the elevator leading up to the observatory room near Number Six.

“Where are you going?” Nezumi called after him.

“Let’s go to Number Six,” Shion called back. “It’ll be easier to talk if we don’t worry about people walking in on us.”

“The aquarium’s closed, though.” Nezumi caught up to him rather quickly. He strode beside Shion, his long legs easily keeping pace with Shion’s brisk stride. “Who’d walk in?”

"Well, hopefully, no one. But you never know what employees have left things behind. So it’d be better not to be talking about… things where people could overhear.”

“Good point,” Nezumi murmured.

The elevator ride up to the observatory room was silent and awkward. Shion shifted from one foot to the other, and Nezumi lingered on the far end of the little room to give him space. Shion could feel those piercing silver eyes sliding toward him, then quickly darting away when Shion tried to look back. It sent prickles through his body, and he clenched his fists to focus on something else.

When the elevator dinged and signaled their arrival at the observatory, Nezumi stepped out of the room and half-jogged across the tile floor and toward the top of the tank. The lights had been dimmed, only a few bulbs bright and illuminating the dome. Nezumi quickly unzipped the black leather jacket and tossed it casually to the floor, revealing a long-sleeved yellow shirt beneath it.

“Nezumi?” Shion asked.

Nezumi didn’t answer. He shucked off his shirt, and beneath it he wore a black sleeveless shirt that Shion suspected was meant to keep him from being bare-chested in the water.

“Um,” Shion said, feeling his face heating up. “What exactly are you doing?”

"Proof,” Nezumi called over his shoulder. He swooped down to undo his black boots, kicking them off into the corner beside Number Six’s main pool.

“Proof of what?” Shion asked, but Nezumi didn’t answer. He unbuttoned his pants, and Shion quickly looked away. His face burned, and only when he heard the sound of water splashing did he turn back.

Nezumi popped back up, grabbing the side of the tank and folding his arms on top of it. He rested his chin on his wrists and looked up at Shion. His silver eyes (exactly as Shion remembered, even years later) glittered in the fluorescent lights. His hair was still in a ponytail, several strands falling down over where his ears would be.

“Just wanted to make sure you knew it was really me,” Nezumi said, and with a flick of his tail, he sent a few droplets of water raining down over Shion’s head.

His tail.

Shion’s heart stopped. When Shion met Nezumi, the first thing he’d noticed (after the eyes) had been his tail. Unlike the bright blues and greens of Disney and childhood picture books, Nezumi’s tale was dark black and flecked with deep blue. The fins were wider and longer at the base, almost lace-like and elegant. Beneath the surface of the water, Shion couldn’t seen what they looked like at the hips (he was still wearing the lime green West Block Aquarium staff tee shirt, which didn’t suit him at all), but from his memory, he knew that the scales melded into flesh around his navel.

Shion crouched beside the tank, his stomach tightening. “Why now?”

Nezumi’s tail sank back below the surface of the water. Shion could see it swaying idly back and forth, the way a human might churn their feet lazily to keep themselves afloat in calm seas.

Shion knew Nezumi’s tail would be cold if he touched it. So would his skin. Nezumi was always cold. Not his personality, but—all right, sometimes his personality, too, but mostly his skin and tail were cool whenever Shion touched them. Even years later, he could remember the way it felt to smooth his hand over Nezumi’s hip, counting the blue scales peppered throughout. Nezumi’s tail reminded him of obsidian, black at first glance, with flecks of gray and purple and blue when it moved and the light shifted across it.

Nezumi’s eyes lowered to the floor between them. A harsh silence fell around them, punctuated only by the buzzing of the lights overhead and the glug-glug of the industrial-sized water filter.

“I didn’t mean to disappear for so long,” Nezumi explained, and his voice held so much conviction that Shion didn’t doubt him.

“You said that.”

“When I went back, something… happened.”

Shion raised an eyebrow.

Nezumi’s fingers wove into his damp bangs, which were so long they fell over his left eye, and gave them a yank. Shion’s heart clenched; he recognized it as an old habit Nezumi had when they were teenagers, something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. His nails were still pale and long, neat despite the distinct lack of access to quality salon service beneath the ocean’s waves.

“A human found the town where I lived,” he said quietly. “Under the ocean. When I wasn’t visiting you at the beach.”

Shion felt something clamp around his heart.

He knew what it meant if humans discovered the existence of the Children of the Sea. Humans, as much as Shion might have liked to believe otherwise, couldn’t stand knowing that there were resources they hadn’t been able to exploit. And the existence of merpeople would be a scientific miracle—enough that some greedy bastard would utilize it to try and earn millions.

“What happened?” Shion whispered. He hadn’t recalled seeing any breaking news headlines about merpeople; he definitely would have seen something like that, unless the government came swooping in to silence it.

Nezumi’s tail twitched under the water, clearly agitated. “Instead of running to the news,” he said through his teeth, “this idiot decided to try and capture one of us and bring them to the shore as evidence. Needless to say, the rest of us didn’t take kindly to that.”

“I’d imagine not.”

“But what we didn’t count on,” Nezumi said, his voice lowering, “was the oil.” He rested his hand flat on the water’s surface, letting it bounce gently beneath the water and then lifting it back up. “He emptied a container of oil into the water—not sure where he got it—and lit a match. I didn’t know it was that flammable.”

Shion listened as Nezumi explained how the flames had burned the Children of the Sea, who were unaccustomed to the sensation due to their inexperience with burning things. The oil doused them and made them sink below, unable to swim and avoid the flames. The water didn’t seem to stop it, the sticky substance creating an odd shield that didn’t mix well with the water, keeping the two materials separate from each other.

His heart ached at the thought of all the Children of the Sea who had suffered—according to Nezumi’s whispered story, the whole town had gone down in flames. A decent chunk of them had managed to escape, Nezumi included, but the majority of them…

The majority of them had burned to death.

“I’m sorry,” Shion whispered as Nezumi lapsed into uncomfortable silence. “Oh, Nezumi, I’m so sorry.”

“I was so angry,” Nezumi replied. “When I woke up and realized what had happened, I was so angry I couldn’t think of anything else. I was hurt. I was scared. And I couldn’t think of anything except how much I hated humans.”

Shion frowned. Nezumi’s dislike for humans wasn’t new to him. And fortunately, Nezumi had never spat Shion’s half-human heritage in his face. If anything, he seemed as fascinated by Shion’s legs as Shion was about his tail. The only difference was that Nezumi could have had a pair of his own—he stubbornly chose not to—and Shion had never been able to pop a tail no matter how many (embarrassing) times he’d attempted.

“When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was,” Nezumi went on. “All I knew was that my back hurt and everyone else I knew was dead. For a while things were just… bad. I couldn’t move, and when I tried, it just made me realize that there was a chance I was going to die, too, and I hated it. After a while, I could move, and I just left.”

“Left?” Shion echoed.

“I couldn’t stand being there,” Nezumi said under his breath. “Everywhere I looked I could see all the people I knew, and then I remembered that because of one greedy fucking human, they were gone. We took him down with us—Sasori, I think, yanked him off the boat and drowned him—but it didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t matter that he was dead, too. It didn’t matter that, miraculously, I’d survived whatever the hell he did to us. It just didn’t matter.”

Shion swallowed the lump in his throat. His eyes stung.

“I wanted to come back,” Nezumi went on, his voice painfully soft. Shion had to strain to hear him. “I wanted to at least tell you why I was going. But every time I thought about going back to that place, something just made me leave. It’s not an excuse, and I know it’s not a good enough reason to make you think that I just abandoned you, but I couldn’t—couldn’t get past the anger. I hated everyone. I hated myself. I was so angry, and there was no coming back from it. And I didn’t…” He waved his hands, agitated, the words slipping away from him. He huffed and said, “I didn’t want to take it out on you. It’s so fucking stupid, but I didn’t want to shout at you and blame you, and I was so angry with humans that I knew I would. If I saw you then, I’d only see the human part of you and blame you for things you had nothing to do with. That’s not fair. I know it’s not. And I’m not asking you to forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me, either.”

“Then why come back?” Shion whispered. He’d moved forward, almost like an instinct, and sat at the edge of the tank, a few inches from Nezumi’s face. “Why come back at all?”

“Because I missed you,” Nezumi whispered back, as strong and as sure as if he’d simply stated the color of the morning sky. “I missed you. When the anger cooled, you were all I could think about. I had no way of knowing if you were even still here, or if you’d even want to see me after I just left, but if there was a chance, I wanted to take it.”

Shion’s throat tightened. He swallowed around the lump that had lodged there and ordered himself not to cry. He was angry. He was supposed to be angry. And yet, beneath the anger was wave after wave of relief that Nezumi was alive.

“So… the aquarium?”

Nezumi shrugged. “It seemed like a good job for a Child of the Sea. I filled out the application and they called me back. I didn’t know you were working here. But once I got a job and… established myself here, I wanted to find you.”

“Established yourself?”

“I wanted a way to prove to you that I wanted to stay. If you told me to fuck off and never wanted to see me again, I would understand. But I wanted a way to prove to you that I intend to stay this time.”

Shion’s hands tightened around the lip of the tank. Emotions whirled inside him like a tsunami, and he felt as if he was caught in the middle of it, unable to surface. Stinging tears prickled at the backs of his eyes, and he forced back the urge to cry. Once he started, he knew he’d never stop. He scraped the back of his hand beneath his eyes, widening them just a bit to keep from crying.

He was still angry. Of course he was. But he couldn’t imagine how badly it hurt. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if his mother’s bakery burnt down, with her and Safu and everyone else he knew trapped inside.

He took a deep breath, feeling it catching inside his chest around the ball of anger and sorrow and raw fucking hope that’d nestled within.

"Where are you staying?” Shion murmured.

Nezumi perked up, but kept his voice steady as he answered, “A motel down on Seventh Street. By the boardwalk. You remember.”

“I do.” Shion pressed his lips together. “It’s not too far from my house. What’s your schedule?”

"I’m off tomorrow, but I think I’m working open to close on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The old man says hours will pick up some time, but he wasn’t specific.”

“Do you have a car?”

“Can’t drive,” Nezumi answered, much too quickly, and Shion couldn’t help the laugh that cracked out of his throat. “I can barely walk—don’t laugh at me. This is serious.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Shion said, but his lips were tugging upward at the corners. He had to admit, despite everything that’d happened, it was pretty fucking funny. Nezumi—elegant, perfect, beautiful, wonderful Nezumi, whose every movement was the physical definition of grace—was clumsy on the land.

“Yes, you are,” Nezumi groused, but when Shion stole a glance up into his face, he was smiling, too.

God, his smile.

Even after all these years, he was still as beautiful as the day Shion met him.

“Well,” Shion said, and dammit, if his voice wobbled, Nezumi better not comment on it. “The boardwalk’s on my way to the aquarium, and if you’re working about the same schedule as me, I wouldn’t mind picking you up and bringing you home.”

Nezumi’s eyes widened.

“I’m not ready to forgive you just yet,” Shion explained. “You really hurt me. I understand why you left, but I wish you had just… I don’t know, said something to me so I didn’t think you were dead. I know that might be petty of me, given what happened, and I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s not petty,” Nezumi assured. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah, but you almost died.” Shion exhaled through his nose. “And I missed you, too.”

Nezumi laughed; it crackled a bit at the edges, and Shion couldn’t help it. He leaned forward, his arms reaching out—and miraculously, Nezumi reached back. Shion slid his arms around Nezumi’s shoulders and rested his forehead against the crook of Nezumi’s neck. He smelled like sea salt and an odd floral scent Shion had never been able to identify but could always remember. Despite being half fish, Nezumi never smelled like anything Shion would have expected.

Nezumi’s arms tightened around his shoulders and squeezed back. “I really did miss you,” he murmured against the top of Shion’s head.

“I missed you, too,” Shion said, and it was true. As angry and hurt as he was with Nezumi’s sudden disappearance, nothing about that had changed. “I’m not ready to go back to the way things were, and I can’t promise that I will be…”

“That’s fine,” Nezumi assured, burying his face in Shion’s hair. “I’m just glad to be here, in whatever way you’ll have me.”

This was more emotion and honesty than Shion had ever gotten out of Nezumi about his feelings, and it felt as if a sudden, burning heat had cracked through the darkness in his heart. His memories of his summers spent as a teenager came flooding back to him, and all at once, he was back on the beach, stretched out on a scratchy beach blanket with Nezumi’s arms wrapped around him. His tail rested over Shion’s legs, comfortingly cool in the midsummer heat, and heavy in a way that reminded Shion of a weighted blanket.

Nothing about it was perfect. Shion knew this. The frustration and pain wouldn’t disappear overnight, and just because Nezumi apologized didn’t mean he was free and clear of blame. But for a few moments, wrapped in his arms, Shion understood that at least he was back and they could work through it together.

He sighed, pressed himself against Nezumi’s cool, solid body, and reveled in the realization that yes, he was back. He was back, and he wanted to be here. The shush-shush of the water in Number Six fell around them, creating a comfortable mimicry of the waves that’d collapsed over Shion’s head the day Nezumi hauled him into the ocean and tried to drown him. Shion closed his eyes, tightened his grip on Nezumi’s shoulders, and for the first time in years, could finally breathe.

[suyunsgf]

ooo! for the kpop ask. exo svt izone itzy and txt 👀 (i know youve said you arent really into txt but im still curious about your fav songs)

okay homework crunch time is over i can answer this now!

EXO

Fan or not? Yes but only for the music idk the dudes out side of like stuff everyone knows

How long ive been a fan? uuuhhhh since like 2017 when i started listening to kpop a lot?? they were one of the first groups i listened to a lot of

The first song i heard by them? Call me baby! one of my highschool friends played it at a party and i was like *Looking emoji*

My fave song as of now? oh uuuuuhhhh they have so many songs... yknow what? i want to say jekyll i LOVE jekyll

The first mv i saw? probably also call me baby cause i wanted to hear it after my friend played it at the party lol

My fave mv as of now? hmmmm

Who my bias is? if you had asked me this like 2 years ago i wouldve said chanyeol based on vibes alone but now im like idk them well enough to care. That being said ksoo seems like a cool dude

SVT

Fan or not? BIG FAN! I am a carat first and a person second

How long Ive been a fan? Since just before teen, age so late 2017 again when i first started listening to kpop a lot

the first song i heard by them? boom boom or Q&A but im inclined to say boom boom

My fave song as of now? Thanks she has a very special spot in my heart

The first mv i saw? Q&A for sure

My fave mv as of now? oh my? or callx3

Who my bias is? HAO MY BELOVED!!!! <3!!! hes been my number one from day one <3

IZONE

Fan or not? Again just for the music idk the girlies like that

How long ive been a fan? since debut la vie en rose is that bitch <3

First song i heard? la vie en rose <3

My fave song as of now? HIGHLIGHT

The first mv i saw? la vie en rose lol

My fave as of now? violeta or secret story of the swan theyre both so good

Who my bias is? i dont even know all their names <3

ITZY

Fan or not? yeah im a fan the girls are fun

How long ive been a fan? Since debut <3

The first song i heard by them? dalla dalla

My fave song as of now? Icy????????

The first mv i saw? you’ll never guess this.... dalla dalla

My fave mv as of now? wannabe

Who my bias is? Chaeryeong!! i love her so much!!

TXT

Fan or not? Very very casually theyre hit or miss for me and i only care about my son <3 but also i appreciate all of them for doing their thing

How long ive been a fan? my fanness is complicated but i first payed attention to them for realsies was just after their first cb whatever that album is called and i refuse to type out the tt even tho ive already used more letters ahfahlkfjfjajajd (i ended up looking them up the album is the dream chapter magic)

The first song i heard from them? Crown probably? but it was just hey ill check out these kids people are talking about then i kinda didnt care

My fave song as of now? oh jeez ummm New Rules will always be one of my faves but since you said you wanted to see my faves ill say i also really like cant we just leave the monster alive?, we lost the summer, blue hour, eternally and like rest of the dream chapter magic tbh shes really fun also all their tts are good

The first mv i saw? crown

My Fave mv as of now? yknow? i dont really watch their mvs hmmmm i think cant you see me is pretty cool

Who my bias is? Taehyun my son <3!!!!!!!!!