#jeanandjeremy

[chryseiswriting-blog]

No but I think the next TSC book is either going to be THICK, like GOT-level-chunky, thicker than the atmosphere big, or two books instead of one.

There’s just still so much content to cover, like:

- Jeremy’s background

- Jeremy’s trauma and crimes

- Jean’s sister

- Jeremy learning the full extent of Jean’s trauma and what Riko put him through in the Nest (I really want to see him learn the true reason Jean is scared of water).

- the culmination of their sexual tension and, at long last, a kiss 😌

- who wins in the championships (I know in the EC it is the Trojans, and that Nora said this book won’t be about Exy and the championships, but she also said that she wouldn’t be following the EC and there would be changes so I am curious to know if this changes.)

- Kevin and Jeans interview

- Jean and Neil’s interview / announcement of his true identity

- the fallout of Jean’s identity and how the Trojans react. Will Jean have to fight to stay like how Neil had to fight to stay?

- the Trial of Jeans parents

- Jean seeing his parents again

- the “big event” that is necessary in book plots, like with the reveal of Jeans sister and Neil’s spontaneous visit to LA in TSC, like will the next book be more about Jeremy since we got Jean in B1 or will it be still Jean focused? Or am I right and we will see TWO more TSC books (fuck I hope so)

Anyway, there’s more but I just woke up so there’s my theories thus far.

[127dream]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: NCT (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Minhyung | Mark Characters: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Lee Minhyung | Mark, Lee Taeyong, + short appearances of others Additional Tags: Angst, Lots of it, A whole lot of crying, Eating Disorders, Homophobia, Nothing that graphic, but just generally pretty angsty i'm sorry Summary:

Donghyuck sometimes wishes he was born in a different version of this world, one where boys could love boys without it being wrong. Where eating what you want didn’t make you fat. He wishes he’d been born as someone else, someone skinnier that didn’t get butterflies in his stomach when his best friend smiled. Things weren’t like that though and this world was cruel.

[chryseiswriting-blog]

Imagine if Jeremy found out the truth about the Moriyamas by teaching himself French to surprise Jean, only to overhear a phone call or convo between him and Neil and just BAM, gang wars and drug lords galore.

[chryseiswriting-blog]

TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY

TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY TRILOGY

[chryseiswriting-blog]

[chryseiswriting-blog]

Please, if nothing else, let Jean and Jeremy realise they have feelings for one another in a moment of bliss.

Not in a confession of trauma and pain, or in a moment where they realise their wounds have matching edges, no tears, or blood, or jagged words that cut like glass.

A true, dancing in the kitchen / just scored an impossible goal / building sandcastles / icecream on the tip of your nose / I found a book I think you’d like / laying in sun warmed grass, talking about life and finding shapes in the clouds moment. Happiness punctuated with smiles and heavy lidded stares, glancing down at mouths and the flicks of tongues wetting dry lips, falling into one another’s orbit in slow motion, colliding into heat and touch that lingers long after their fingers have moved on.

Please, please, please let them realise their feelings in a moment of simple delights.

[chryseiswriting-blog]

When he is emotionally and mentally stable and everything is out in the open, I really want Jean to take up a bunch of artisan hobbies for no reason except they make him happy.

Like, I want pottery to be his gateway drug. One minute it’s handmade plates, next thing Jeremy knows he has a boyfriend who sculpts, and paints, and keeps jars of sourdough starter in the kitchen.

And one day he comes home and finds wood dust all over the living room because Jean has gone and carved him a life-sized golden retriever out out of a wood block so big it took him, Cat and Laila to get it through the house.

I want them to have a date where they make bead bracelets and Jean is only mildly annoyed there are no black beads on his. I want them to try and paint each other (which inevitably leads to more kissing than painting), and they find paint in awkward places for days after the fact.

Sharpie stars on the hem on their clothes, crotchet quilts to match Cat’s grandmother’s square for square, and all the mismatched ceramic mugs in the world.

I want that for them, you know?

[chryseiswriting-blog]

Neil “I’m fine” Josten / Jean “I deserved it” Moreau

[chryseiswriting-blog]

“Medicate, Meditate,

Swear your soul to Jesus.

Throw a punch,

Fall in Love,

Give yourself a reason.”

A cool evening breeze.

Rainbows.

Open Roads.

Friends

[chryseiswriting-blog]

Imagine.

Post The Sunshine Court. Some time has passed but not much. Jean is still healing. Jeremy is down bad but refuses to admit it. Renee goes to visit Jean in LA and they spend the day together as friends before meeting up with the floosies for lunch at the mall.

The floosies get milkshakes then sit down in the food court to wait for R and J. Jeremy is mid sentence, talking about Barkbark or pottery or something silly and happy, and then he cuts off, choking on his words and his milkshake and he slaps a hand over his mouth, coughing, his face turns a brilliant shade of red. Curious, the floosies glance over their shoulders to see what Jer saw to provoke such a visceral reaction.

J and R are walking toward them. Renee has somehow conned Jean into taking part in a classic Fox bet but with a spin and Jean has evidently lost. The cost? He has to swap shirts with her for an hour.

She looks tiny and adorable in his comparatively massive Trojan black tee (striped cardinal red ofc). Grinning with tacky-af red heart sunglasses balanced atop her head.

But Jean? Jean in Renee’s pastel pink shirt (that’s comfortable on her but positively TINY on him, hugging him so tight you can see his pecs and biceps, revealing the slope of his hips and the smooth, scarred panes of his abdomen— a certified midriff), complete with a pastel rainbow bear on the chest? Yeah. Yeaa.

And the floosies look back at Jeremy, all with matching smirks, but our golden boy can’t look up. Suddenly the paper straw of his oat milk caramel milkshake is the most interesting thing in the world. The floosies are smiling. Jean is scowling, muttering grumpy French. Jer is red red.

Right before the Fox and former Raven get within ear shot, all he can muster is a quiet “shuddup” to his grinning friends. Later, when he’s alone, he’ll think of gray eyes and heart shaped glasses.

And they are all happy.

Imagine.

[chryseiswriting-blog]

Thing is, shits gonna have to get worse before it gets better. We will have to see either Jean or Jeremy get beaten to a bloody pulp before we finally see Jean snap.

I’m just glad when he does break, all those years of pent up rage will make whoever it is at fault regret the day they were born. He will rise like a hound out of hell and he will drag them, kicking and screaming, into the flames that burnt him all those times before.

He’s going to burn the house down.

I’m kind of hoping it’ll be Jeremy— king of the sunshine court, all bloody knuckles and bruised lips— who snaps but let’s not talk about that rn

[chryseiswriting-blog]

“The Ravens are dropping like flies!”

Neil ‘oops, I killed that one’ Josten: “oh noo” ☹️

[chryseiswriting-blog]

Sunshine Court characters as music

Listen up, Jeremy Knox is Noah Kahan, and Jean-Yves Moreau is Taylor Swift, specifically The Tortured Poets Department (2024). Can I explain it? No. Will I hear otherwise? Also no.

[chryseiswriting-blog]

Her name was

[chryseiswriting-blog]

Did yall notice this opening line? Cause I didn’t. Didn’t think twice of it until after. Now I am on my reread and I am screaming, crying, throwing up.

Jean Moreau spends this entire book coming back to himself in pieces, inch by painstaking inch, finding the parts of himself that never had the chance to see the sunlight because they were buried in darkness. He is discovering who he is without the ravens, without Edgar Allen, without the king. He is picking up a thousand shattered pieces and dragging them together to try and make a whole (a little and a LOT like a shattered glass dropped in a sink, which is conveniently made easier when a golden haired twink wielding a paper towel and basic life skills comes to the rescue), desperately trying to make a life worth living when he has every reason to give up, because he has done this before! A thousand mornings before and a thousand mornings more. He will come back to himself, bit by bit, and make something with all those pieces, and to show that by opening with THIS LINE???

Nora, you are killing me man. Have mercy on my heart. It’s broken and bleeding all over my carpet and I can’t afford the dry cleaning :-(

[chryseiswriting-blog]

I would sell my kidney to have the next item on Jean’s list of “things he appreciates / things that make life worth living” be freckles. Please, Nora, my heart, my Queen, my eternal captor and damnation, after that whole mental brain freeze Jean had watching water slide down the freckled line of Jeremy’s shoulder blades, please, freckles have to make the list.