#me looking at the sea of Bad Dads on my dash like 8| why is this a pattern

[tenacquity]

i see all of your “Less-than-Terrific Parent Award” muses on my dash and present you an orphan lawyer boy who has no frame of reference to make judgments 😊💖 i mean, he probably still will bc he’s more judgmental than he looks but 

[maria-scribbles]

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part three

summary: while mother nature isn’t very kind to the obx, jj’s dad is even worse to him. sailor sees the aftermath, relives a day that changed her life forever, and realizes she’d be down with murder if she could get away with it. between nutella sandwiches, story time, and a shared bed, an unspoken thing slowly starts to become a little more real.

word count: 6.9k+ (oops 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings: abuse/neglect, blood, mentions of parental abandonment/gambling addiction, swearing, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, blatant references to hocus pocus, the little mermaid, percy jackson and the olympians, and mean girls (and a teeny, subtle reference to stranger things, see if y’all can catch it! 😉)

a/n: i was so excited to write this part, not gonna lie (if you couldn’t tell, just look at that word count). hurt/comfort is my shittt and i’m a pretty big slut for physical comfort/touches so i kinda went ham with it lol. i’m also very happy to finally introduce everyone to peyton, who’s a character i really love and enjoy writing, especially her relationship with her gf alison. both of them will get some time to shine in this part, peyton in the present and alison in the past! as usual, this is unbetaed so all mistakes belong to me. enjoy!

gif credit to @sci-fi​

~Masterlist~

part one | part two | part four | playlist 

part three: storm surge

It rains the entire week. Scratch that -it storms: the whole island buffeted by howling winds and blanketed by a thick layer of dark and angry clouds that make life just shy of miserable. For someone who spends 99% of her time outside like Sailor, miserable doesn’t begin to cover it. And to think, it’s only the beginning of hurricane season.

The redhead props her chin in one tan hand as she leans against the cool marble counter of The Butterscotch Bonnet Ice Cream Parlor, watching the rain pound against the shop’s bay windows. Across the street she can just make out the rough, gray surf of the Atlantic through a tiny gap in between two buildings and she sighs wistfully, thinking about all the beautiful shells getting tossed onto the beach by the waves. She’s half tempted to just throw off her apron, hop the counter, and make a break for the sand, storm be damned.

She’s almost positive she wouldn’t even be missed. There isn’t a customer in sight and there hasn’t been one since she started her shift three hours ago. Peyton was still in the back kitchen, messing around with whatever convoluted ice cream flavor she thought up for this week; her boss definitely has a knack for concocting weird combinations that somehow work together, at least most of the time. Sailor thinks back to a few weeks ago when they debuted that delicious blackberry balsamic that sold out every day without fail, then followed it with a cilantro lime that was hit-or-miss (a definite miss in her opinion, as cilantro just tastes like soap to her; Peyton had just smiled her infectious smile, shrugged her tiny shoulders, and said, “Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”) This week’s flavor involves mascarpone and peaches and she can’t wait to steal a sample because if the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen is any indication, it’s gonna be bomb, even though it probably won’t upset the shop’s namesake flavor from the top of her list.

Thinking about ice cream makes her kind of hungry, on top of the fact that she has a terrible habit of eating when she’s bored, so she dishes out a small scoop of Butterscotch Bonnet and grabs a spoon before leaning back against the counter, digging through the cup to find the best part: salted caramel-filled chocolate sea shells, made in house. The days Sailor gets to help make them are her favorite days to come to work, when she and Peyton commandeer the kitchen and have the time of their lives, blasting music and dancing as they slave away. Of course, the little bag of chocolates she gets to take home is a pretty big plus, too.

“That’s coming out of your paycheck, Sail.”

Spoon halfway to her mouth, she sheepishly glances up from her snack as Peyton emerges from the kitchen, fondly shaking her head and sending her inky black braids dancing across her shoulders.

“What am I gonna do with you?” She continues with a wink before starting to make herself a milkshake, dropping two scoops of their tiramisu flavor into a malt cup.

“Sorry, you know I can’t help myself!” Sailor knows the other girl was joking but she apologizes anyway and opens the cabinet to grab a cup and straw for her, setting them on the counter beside the old-fashioned milkshake machine. As far as bosses go, Peyton is one of the all-around best to have and the redhead loves working at her shop. While the Buckleys are rich as shit and total kooks, the family’s youngest daughter is down to earth, kind, and prefers to work hard for what she wants instead of flaunting her parents’ wealth and The Butterscotch Bonnet is proof that, despite her last name and penchant for the finer things, she’s a pogue at heart. It’s no wonder Alison’s head over heels for her.

“I also know you’re bored as shit.” Peyton calls over the sound of the blender, sending a knowing smirk toward the younger girl, who rolls her eyes and shovels another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth as she replies, “Obviously. This weather fucking sucks.”

A loud clap of thunder seems to shake the very glass in the windows and she gestures toward the storm outside, her point proven. Peyton glances around the deserted shop, still bright and cheery despite its lack of movement and life, then back to the relentless downpour, before shrugging and turning back to finish blending her milkshake. “Wanna go home early?”

“Seriously?”

“Why not? You’ve already cleaned this whole place from top to bottom and I don’t think we’re gonna be getting customers any time soon.” Ignoring the paper cup, she plops the straw straight into her drink and takes a big sip, then nods in satisfaction before adding a huge swirl of whipped cream on top.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?” Sailor asks, smiling excitedly as she grabs her bag from under the counter and tosses her empty cup into the trash.

“Only every day,” the older girl replies cheekily, smiling as she’s pulled into a one-armed hug of thanks by her employee.

“Well, you’re gonna hear it again: you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peyton pats the redhead’s shoulder with one deep brown hand and then gently pushes her toward the kitchen. “Now get out of here, brat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sailor throws a peace sign over her shoulder as she heads out the door, cackling at her boss’s offended call of “don’t call me ma’am!” After clocking out, she fishes her keys out of her bag and dashes through the downpour to her beat-up clunker of a truck. A hand-me-down from Alison, Flounder’s nothing to look at with all the dents and chips in his blue paint, but he gets her where she needs to go and has room for surfboards in the back and two other pogues up front on the bench seat -and the other two unlucky ones riding in the bed, hiding under the boards- so she’s not complaining, even though she wishes his radio worked more than half the time.

(Two reasons why John B’s almost always the group chauffeur: the fact that he can legally drive all five of them around without breaking the law -not that they’ve ever gotten caught in Sailor’s truck but anyone with a brain knows that where one pogue goes, the other four aren’t far behind- and good music flowing from a perfectly working stereo.)

Unfortunately, it’s on the fritz today so her drive home is spent listening to the sounds of Flounder’s windshield wipers and the pounding of rain against his roof. She heads inland from the beach, away from Peyton’s shop in the outskirts of affluent Figure 8 and its kook mansions to the more homey, laid-back Cut, passing by the turnoff to the Chateau and through the woods before pulling into the empty driveway of her tiny house. The fact that her mother’s car is no where to be found doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. Waiting for her on the porch is Binx, the stray black cat she’s taken to feeding and more or less adopted, stretching on the blanket she left out for him.

“Hey, handsome,” The redhead says, kneeling down to give him a loving scratch behind the ears; he meows in response and rubs his fuzzy face against her ankles, weaving between her legs as she slides her key into the lock. “Come on in.”

The front door closes behind them with a hollow bang that echoes through the empty house like the thunder outside. Sailor hangs up her keys and follows Binx down the hall toward her room, ignoring the closed door that leads to her mom’s room and a bed that she assumes hasn’t been slept in in months. Not that she would know: she’s made it a habit to spend as few nights as possible alone in the house, instead crashing at the Chateau or Kiara’s place and hoping her mom’s comfortable in her makeshift room at The Sandbar where Carmen doesn’t have to deal with the teenager she’s supposed to be caring for (Sailor’s always been an independent girl and has no trouble getting by alone but fuck, that doesn’t mean she wants to.).

Her father’s green eyes, the same color as her own, stare back at her from a picture hanging on the wall of a better time, when everything was alright and her family wasn’t so broken; the three of them on the beach with a twelve year old Sailor in the middle and surfboards in hand. Carmen looks like the mother she remembers and misses so bad it hurts, and while Ryan wasn’t always the most caring of fathers and only acted like a dad when it was convenient, she’d still do anything to have him back, terrible parenting skills and all. She turns away from the picture and the complicated mess her heart becomes when she thinks about him, continuing down the hall to her room.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover her feelings about her dad, though. She’s always believed she was an afterthought to him, never first on his list but still good enough to tag along for company when he was doing something he wanted to do. He was a man who liked the idea of having a kid but never wanted to actually step up and parent when things weren’t all fun and games, instead deciding to take off to Atlantic City for a month or two at a time to gamble away whatever money they earned at the surf shop.

She wants to hate him. She should loathe him and in a way, she does. She hates the way he still makes her feel like everything’s her fault, even when he’s not around. She hates the person her mother becomes when he disappears, someone distant and cold and so unlike the good, caring mother Sailor remembers. She hates that home doesn’t feel like home anymore and it’s all his fault, and she hates that despite everything he’s put her through, all the hurt he’s caused, she still can’t find it in her big, bleeding heart to truly detest her father. After all, he could’ve been worse. So, so much worse.

The only place she can get away from everything is her room, her own little sanctuary from the cold emptiness of the rest of the house and constant reminders of Ryan’s absence. It’s warm and bright, the walls painted a sunny yellow that reminds her of lazy days relaxing on the beach. Her first surfboard hangs on the wall above her bed, tucked away in a corner, doubling as a shelf for her massive shell collection while pictures of her and her friends dangle underneath, pinned to a long piece of twine. Her current boards stand propped in another corner, leaning against a wall plastered with all types of movie and music posters. Through the windows covered with curtains as light as sea foam, the rain steadily pours but in here, she’s safe. In here, she can breathe.

Sailor strips off her uniform, tossing it along with her bag onto the chair by the door and slips out of her worn red high-tops before pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and the first long-sleeve shirt her fingers find in the closet, then flops onto her bed and pulls the soft blue blanket around her shoulders, reading glasses and well-loved copy of The Lightning Thief in hand while Binx curls up at her feet. Every summer without fail she rereads the series (why, she’s not exactly sure: maybe its nostalgia, maybe its because she lowkey relates to water-loving, steadfastly loyal Percy) and she’s fallen behind this year, so she fully intends on reading as much as she can tonight before bed. The storm provides perfect background noise and soon she’s five chapters in before a sudden loud knock on her window causes her head to snap up in alarm.

Oh no. Without bothering to save her place, she tosses the book and her glasses aside and scrambles from the bed to the window, tearing open the curtains to reveal a sight she always dreads seeing. Her best friend stands outside in the rain, soaked to the bone, hand pressed against his side, and the sight of bright red blood trailing down his face and staining the collar of his gray shirt makes her heart drop to her stomach. Wordlessly, she opens the window and helps him climb inside before closing it firmly and drawing the curtains, once again blocking the world from her -now their- sanctuary, then grabs her blanket from the bed and wraps it tightly around JJ’s shaking shoulders after he kicks off his sodden boots.

Her hand slowly moves to cup his face and her heart breaks a little more when he tenses, blue eyes carefully tracking its movement until he seems to remember who it belongs to and lets himself lean into her touch, cheek resting against her palm. Sailor runs her thumb under his split lip and and wipes at the crimson staining his tan skin, her mouth curving into a small frown when she only succeeds in smearing it further.

“Come on,” She breaks the silence with her gentle voice, barely above a whisper, and reaches her other hand out to take his, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

His fingers hold so, so tight as she leads him down the hall to the bathroom and she’s so laser-focused on the way they tremble against hers that she doesn’t notice the blood left behind on the handle when she opens the door. After flicking on the light she turns to face him and gently pushes the blanket from his shoulders with her free hand, letting it fall to the floor in a damp heap, then blindly reaches behind her to turn on the shower, cranking the heat as high as it’ll go.

“Sorry about your blanket.” JJ says at last, his voice quiet, and Sailor shakes her head, running her thumb in circles on the back of his cold hand.

“I don’t care about that, J.” She replies just as quiet and before she can stop herself, before she can think about what exactly she’s about to admit, she adds, “I care about you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a barely-there smile and while it may be tiny, it’s a smile nonetheless and she feels the tight knot in her chest begin to loosen as she lets go of his hand, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

He does as she asks but his pained wince doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead when she pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the discarded blanket, and her jaw clenches at the sight of deep purple bruises in the shape of his father’s fists marring the skin over his ribs.

“Let me know if this hurts.” Oh so carefully she reaches out with one hand and gently touches the darkest mark, where she’d seen him clutching at outside her window, her fingers delicately feeling for any damages.

“A little.” He admits, shaky breath warm against her forehead and she does her best to keep her hand steady as she checks over the rest of him, then feathers her fingers back over that first bruise.

“It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken or cracked, so that’s good.” She says, allowing her hand to linger for a second before letting it fall from his side. “A rib or two might be a little bruised, though, so we’ll put some ice on them later, just in case. Sound good?”

JJ nods and watches her with those ocean blue eyes as she pulls her own shirt over her head, leaving her in a plain black cami and shorts, before grabbing his hand once again and pulling him into the shower with her. The water’s just a tad too hot and it instantly starts turning her skin red but Sailor doesn’t mind, instead choosing to embrace the heat and the way it burns everything away, leaving behind brand new skin that’s ready for a new day, new adventures. She reaches up and gingerly wipes the blood from her best friend’s face; in a mirror of earlier, he leans his cheek into her palm, eyes slowly closing while both arms wrap around her waist and pull her close.

“Sail,” He whispers her nickname into the humid air between them and she barely registers the tremble in his voice before his knees buckle, sinking them both to the shower floor until they’re face to face, sitting in between each other’s legs. He clings to her, arms even tighter around her waist and face buried against her neck, and she feels the shake of his shoulders when she winds her own arms around them. One hand moves to steadily run through wet blond hair, over and over, comforting in the best way she knows how, the fingers of her other hand tracing circles on the bare skin of his back as water continues to rain down on them like the downpour outside.

She’s eerily reminded of another time they sat like this, sobbing in each other’s arms five years ago, the first time she saw just how cruel his father could be, the first time she realized she’d do absolutely everything and anything to keep him safe, and it was both one of the best and worst days of her life.

Eleven year old Sailor shoved her math textbook into her cluttered locker and kicked it shut with a scowl. She hated math, her math teacher, and especially whoever made her schedule- who in their right mind would put math in eighth-period? She swung her backpack onto her shoulder and grunted softly at the extra weight it carried. JJ hadn’t come to school that day and Sailor had volunteered to take his missed work to him; it made sense, considering she lived closest out of the pogues and it’d make her feel better if she got to check on him herself -there was a reason the rest of the group called her the mom friend, after all.

She’d already collected assignments from the classes he shared with Pope and Kiara as well as herself, so now she was just waiting for John B to drop off his own. As if summoned by her thoughts, the brunet boy rounded the corner and waved, weaving his way to her through their fellow middle-schoolers. “Sorry, you know how Mr. Jefferson likes to go on and on and on...” He said, pulling some papers from his backpack and handing them to the redhead. “Do you remember where J’s house is?”

Sailor rolled her eyes and carefully slid the homework into her own bag. “Considering I live, like, five streets away, I sure hope so.” She fired back, ignoring his cackle of laughter as they joined the rush of students, excited for the weekend, flooding out through the double doors of Kildare County Middle School. She lingered by her friend as he unlocked his bike from the rack and then climbed on, asking, “You’re helping out at the shop on Saturday, right?”

She nodded, scanning the sea of waiting cars and waving when she spotted her ride. “Yeah, why?”

“My dad and I are gonna hang out at the beach that day so we’ll stop by and say hi.” With a casual salute in her direction he slowly started pedaling down the road, calling back over his shoulder, “Tell JJ he can come too if he’s feeling better!”

“Tell him yourself!” She yelled after his retreating back, not surprised in the slightest when he didn’t turn around and disappeared into the trees. Alison’s beat up blue truck pulled up to the curb seconds later and the older redhead leaned out the open window, a shit-eating grin on her face as she joked, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Sailor laughed and climbed into the passenger seat, dropping her backpack on the floor with a loud thump. Alison winced at the sound, raising her eyebrow as she waited for the younger girl to put her seatbelt on. “What the hell do you have in there, rocks?”

“One of my friends missed school today so I have his homework. Do you mind driving by so I can drop it off? He only lives a few streets away.”

“Sure,” Alison replied, flicking on her turn signal and merging into the stream of cars leaving the school’s parking lot. “So who skipped: Smarty Pants, Bandana Boy, or Surfer Bro?”

The eleven year old giggled at the nicknames -she’d never admit it, but they were honestly pretty accurate- and replied, “Surfer Bro. And his name is JJ, Ali.”

“Rightttt, JJ. What do you think it stands for, huh? Jesse James? John Jacob?”

“Oh my Godddddd!”

The high school senior continued to come up with names, each more ridiculous than the last until Sailor exclaimed “There!” and directed her to park near a small, run-down house on a quiet road. She pulled a folder from her backpack and was out the door before the older girl could blink, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”

The redhead slammed the truck door behind her and made her way toward the porch and what she assumed was the front door; she’d never been inside JJ’s house but he always came out to meet them through there so she figured it was a safe bet. The smile fell from her face, ears registering the sound of horrible, angry yelling just as she brought her fist down to knock and she anxiously fidgeted back and forth on the step, her heart starting to beat fast in her chest. What the hell was going on?

"Fucking hell!” An enraged shout came clear as day from inside and as she heard the person’s stomping approach, something in her, a feeling, urged her to hide the folder in her hand behind her back. She jumped in surprise when the door was suddenly ripped open, revealing a fuming, red-faced man who glared down at her with heavily lidded eyes and one hand clenched in a fist at his side, the other holding the threshold in a white-knuckled grip. “What the hell do you want?”

“H-hi, I’m Sailor, one of JJ’s friends? He wasn’t at school today so I came by to check on him.” She said, proud of herself for keeping most of the tremble out of her voice while she studiously avoided his cruel gaze, instead subtly trying to peer behind him and hopefully catch a glimpse of her friend. The man, who she realized with sheer horror had to be JJ’s dad, was absolutely terrifying, with breath reeking of booze and mouth curled into a vicious snarl as he moved to block her view into the house and snapped, “Kid’s fine. Now get the fuck outta here.”

“Can I just see-”

She was cut off when he slammed the door in her face with the hand that had been by his side and her eyes widened, stomach sinking with dread as she caught sight of the splotch of bright crimson left behind on the wood. Oh, God. This could not be happening. She remembered John B’s warning about JJ’s dad, saying he wasn’t a very nice man when she became friends with them last year but she didn’t recall him ever saying anything about this and it hits her like a freight train: he probably didn’t know. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. If JB didn’t know then Pope and Kiara definitely didn’t and a sickening feeling started to churn her belly, both at the thought of JJ facing all of this by himself and the fact that she alone had the power to help.

Inside the house, she heard his dad resume his screaming, every other word accompanied by a sickening thumping noise she’d only heard in person once before, a few years ago on the beach with her parents when two drunk tourons started wailing on each other over a spilled beer: the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Sailor started to panic, both hands flying to cover her mouth in terror. Underneath the screaming and punching, she couldn’t hear anything, any cry or yelp or whimper from her friend and, mind racing with million terrible, awful thoughts, she turned and ran back to the truck, flinging open the door and scrambling inside to grab Alison’s arm, folder in her hands falling to the floor.

“Ali, please, we’ve got to help him-”

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” The older girl joked as she looked up from her phone, smile falling from her lips when she caught sight of the eleven year old’s pale face and wide eyes. She reached over and placed her hands on Sailor’s slight, trembling shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Her lip quivered terribly as she told Alison everything she saw and heard, watching her expression slowly twist into outright dismay, the fingers on her shoulders tightening their grip when she finished, “Ali, what’re we gonna do? We have to help him right now!”

“Fuck, okay, first off let’s calm down- don’t give me that look, kid! We can’t just burst in there like Wonder Woman or something, let me- oh, look!” Alison pointed through windshield, where JJ’s dad furiously stalked from the house to his truck, climbing inside and violently slamming the door before taking off in a cloud of dust. Sailor quickly ducked when he drove by and stayed down until the older redhead gave her the all clear, “He’s gone. That was perfect timing, huh?”

She didn’t reply or even wait for her to unbuckle her seatbelt, taking off at a sprint and bounding onto the porch in no time, furiously knocking against the door. “Hey, J, are you there? It’s Sailor.”

There was no reply and her heart dropped to her stomach. Alison joined her on the front step, her face blanching when her eyes landed on the blood stain on the corner of the door. One of her hands reached out to grab the handle while the other found Sailor’s smaller one and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” With no hesitation and the bravery Sailor wished she had, the eighteen year old pushed the door open and pulled them both into the dusky house. The younger redhead wrinkled her nose at the sight of beer cans and pill bottles littering a circle around the couch but she pressed on, calling his name as the girls moved room to room.

“Sail?” The sound of JJ’s pained voice coming from the room at the end of the hall made her heart skip a beat and she dropped Alison’s hand, running forward and bursting through the door in a rush, not even thinking about what state her friend might’ve been in. Feeling like she’d just been sucker punched right in the gut at the sight of him lying face down on the floor with a small puddle of blood forming under his mouth, she dropped to her knees beside him and delicately took his hand in both of hers, nearly crying in relief when his fingers gripped tight to her palm. Behind her, she heard Alison’s sharp intake of breath as she entered the room, darting over to kneel on JJ’s other side and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, and together they carefully helped him roll onto his back, then up into a sitting position with the older girl’s arm behind him as a brace.

Her jaw trembled as she tried and tried to say something, anything; her head was filled with so many questions -what happened, how could he do this, when did this start?- but the only thing she managed to ask was a simple, “Why?”

“It’s just what he does.” He replied with a shrug, wincing at the movement, “I’m sorry, Sail.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” She asked incredulously, then followed his finger as he pointed at a pile of jagged yellowish-brown pieces on the floor by his bed.

“He broke the shell you gave me.” He looked so upset, so distraught over the broken whelk and she felt her heart swell with waves of affection for her friend, who was more concerned about her broken gift than he was about himself.

“Hey,” She said softly, turning away from the mess to look him in the eye with a small smile, her hand reaching out on its own accord to brush a lock of fine blond hair away from a cut near his temple. “It’s just a shell, okay? I’ll find you another one.”

The sight of blood on his teeth when he returned her smile reminded her of the task at hand and she shook her head, wrapping her thin arm around his waist. “Let’s get you out of here. Think you can stand?” At his nod, both girls put one of his arms around their shoulders and slowly stood, shuffling out the door with all the grace and speed of an old man with two bad knees, but hey, they were moving and getting JJ out of that terrible place, so she’d go as slow as they needed to, even if her anxiety was getting worse and worse with each passing second they spent in the house.

After loading the kids onto the bench seat of the truck, Alison quickly drove them to the empty Flynn residence -Carmen and Ryan still working at the shop- and helped Sailor move JJ into the bathroom. “I’ll go grab you some towels and dry clothes, okay? I think some of your dad’s old stuff might fit him.” She said, watching as the young girl kneeled beside her friend and started untying his shoes.

The eleven year old nodded at her older friend and sent her a small smile. “Thanks, Ali.”

“No problem, kiddos.” With a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes she was gone, heading down the hall toward the laundry room.

Sailor reached over and turned the shower on as hot as possible. “Okay, um, take as long as you need, I guess. I’ll wait outside.” She jerked her thumb toward the hall but before she could even take a step, his hand darted out and grabbed her wrist.

“Stay.” It was more of a demand than a question and JJ seemed embarrassed to even be saying it, the uninjured parts of his face turning an endearing shade of pink. “Please?”

She just nodded and reached a leg out to gently kick the door shut, her mind racing. She stayed but what the hell should she do now, keep her back turned? Get in the shower with him? From the way he was fidgeting back and forth and avoiding her eyes, he was probably thinking the same thing.

“Oh, come on.” She finally said after a minute or two of decidedly not looking at each other and kicked off her sandals, darting forward on impulse to grab his hand and pull them both under the spray. The water uncomfortably soaked into their clothes and made their movements sluggish as they clumsily shuffled around -stepping on each other’s toes and mumbling identical apologies- before finding a position that was only a little bit awkward in the confined space, his arms on either side of her waist and bracing against the wall, her hands tentatively resting on his shoulders.

“This okay?” She asked, feeling her cheeks reddening from more than just the steam curling around them and frizzing her hair, and JJ nodded, swallowing thickly and blinking away a droplet of red-tinged condensation that slid down his forehead. Her hand, moving on its own accord, slowly reached for his face until her palm gently came to rest against his flushed cheek, the tip of her pointer finger just brushing a small cut that sliced through one eyebrow.

“How...” Sailor shook her head, taking a deep breath before finally asking the question that’d been on her mind since this whole thing started, “How long has this been happening?”

Once again he avoided her wide-eyed gaze, eyelids fluttering shut as he answered hesitantly, quietly, “I...I don’t remember a time when it didn’t.”

His answer chipped away the last brick in the dam and the floodgates broke. She flung herself into his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders and fingers twisting in the sodden fabric of his shirt, sobbing into the warm skin of his neck. He froze in her embrace, whole body stock-still until something in him seemed to break too, and his own arms encircled her waist, bit by bit, pulling her close as he buried his face into her shoulder and two sixth graders slowly slumped to the shower floor in a tangled mess of limbs.

“J, why didn’t you say anything?”

His body trembled in her arms and she inhaled sharply at his reply of, “Because I’m not worth it.”

Pulling away from his neck to rest her forehead against his, she cupped his face in both hands and forced him to look her in the eyes, her voice quiet but adamant, insistent as she said, “Don’t you dare say that again, got it? You are worth it. So, so worth it.”

The look behind his red-rimmed, ocean blue gaze was made of pure, unadulterated disbelief and Sailor, at a loss, wracked her brain for something, anything she could do to make him see himself the way she did: loyal, adventurous, funny, and oh so brave, already a beloved, dear friend to her in the short time she’d known him. How could she help him realize he was so much more than his father’s abuse?

‘What can I do to make you believe me?’

An epiphany came to her like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart. It was more than a little crazy and the thought of actually doing it was lowkey terrifying but she’d seen it work beautifully for Alison and her girlfriend Peyton that one time and hell, she was so desperate to help her friend that she’d do just about anything. And so before her anxious mind could start to overthink she surged forward, both hands still holding his face in a gentle grip, and firmly pressed her lips to his.

JJ’s eyes were almost comically wide while he stared, frozen still at her touch, and her own eyes were just as huge as she held the kiss for a few seconds and then abruptly pulled back, her face slowly changing into a shade very similar to her hair.

“Y-you, I-” He stuttered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as a deep pink flush started to color the tan skin of his neck. “Wh-why-”

“Because you are worthy, J. Promise me you won’t forget that.” Her words were as fierce as the hug she pulled him into, only letting the tension bleed out of her when she felt him gradually return her embrace and nod against her shoulder.

“I promise, Sail.”

“Good.”

And with that they fell silent, holding each other tight until the shower ran cold.

Sailor didn’t know it at the time but that hadn’t been just her first kiss but JJ’s too, as they never talked about it until two years later, during a game of truth or dare with the rest of the pogues. Neither actually told the truth, both giving a vague answer about a bet that seemed to placate their friends enough to let the matter drop, never to be brought up again.

The only kiss that happens today is the light brush of her lips against his forehead as she holds him close, even as the water slowly begins to lose its warmth. His embrace is tight, their limbs intertwined so fully that it’s hard to discern where one ends and the other begins and when he speaks, she has to strain to hear the words mumbled against her neck over the pounding spray of the shower.

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His confession cuts her deep. Hearing him admit something so utterly heartbreaking and vulnerable, coming from the side of him Sailor alone gets to see, ignites a fury that simmers under her skin and burns her from the inside out, thoughts turning venomous and, dare she say, downright homicidal. Fuck his dad. Fuck his dad and everything he’s ever done to hurt her best friend, both with and without fists.

“If I could get away with murder, I would.”

It’s true. For JJ, she’d do anything and everything to keep him safe without hesitation, up to and including maiming his dad so he could never touch him again (and if she happened to take it a little too far and straight up kill the bastard, she’d most definitely be fine with it.). He laughs, but it’s empty, hollow, and sorely lacking the joy, the carefreeness, the pure life that it normally radiates.

“You’re not the only one.”

Some time later, after the water raining down on them turns ice cold and their tears have dried, they reluctantly disentangle themselves from each other and towel off before making a quick detour to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for his ribs and have a meager dinner of sandwiches made with the last of her bread and a near empty jar of Nutella. He laughs, for real this time, when he reads the note she writes herself on the fridge future sailor, as much as you want to, you can’t live off just nutella and sheer spite, okay? please go shopping. love, past sailor <3 and grabs the marker out of her hand, adding +past jj and a little smiley face that makes her smile brightly.

They return to her room where they change, back to back, into dry clothes -one of her dresser drawers is full of his things she’s stolen acquired over the years- and, after throwing everything wet, including their discarded shirts and blanket retrieved from the bathroom, into the washing machine to be dealt with some other time, they lie on her bed side by side, shoulder to shoulder, wrapped up together in a spare throw stashed at the bottom of her closet. Binx slinks up from his spot at their feet and lazily drapes himself across their laps, purring like a motorboat when Sailor starts running her hand along his back.

“I almost sat on those,” JJ says, handing over her glasses, “and this.” He holds her forgotten book in his hands, casually flipping through the pages before turning it over and scanning the back cover.

“Have you read it before?”

He shrugs, a barely-there grimace briefly twisting his features as the motion jostles his sore ribs. “Started it, never finished.”

“Well,” She starts, slipping her glasses on and snatching the book out of his grasp, “how about we fix that? I’ll read, you pet the cat.”

Sailor’s voice is soft and steady as she starts to read aloud, a content smile on her face that’s echoed by the boy lying beside her when she settles against his side, head pillowed on the arm he curls around her shoulders without a thought. JJ’s the near perfect listener, only snickering once or twice at her total butchering of some of the more difficult Greek names (how come she can say Hephaestus just fine but gets tripped up on Dionysus?) but otherwise hanging off her every word and the relaxed ease with which he runs his hand through the ends of her damp hair fills her with a warmth, a happiness that she can’t describe but never wants to stop.

Hidden away from the rest of the world, curled up together on her bed, they forget the day’s past horrors and replace them with bright hopes for the future, exchanging comforting touches, deliberate yet played off as unintentional, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp -a caress of knuckles here, a brush of a palm there- as she reads into the night, until the cloudy sky darkens to black and they’re both fighting off the languid pull of sleep.

“I think that’s enough for today.” He plucks the book from her hands without waiting for a response and marks their place with a gas station receipt she was using as a makeshift placeholder, and setting it on the beside drawer.

“It’s your turn to read tomorrow,” He takes her glasses off with gentle fingers as she speaks into what little space still exists between them (that’s not otherwise occupied by Binx), smiling at the slow graze of his thumb along her cheek and nestles further against his side. “I’m done botching the names of deities for a while.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Damn it, Sailor kind of hates it when he says that cause it makes her feel things that she’s not quite ready to think about yet. Thankfully, her blush is swallowed by the darkness as he turns off the light and settles down beside her, arm slung low over her waist; her hand carefully brushes against his bruised ribs over the old shirt he wears, ice pack long ago thawed and thrown somewhere onto the hardwood floor.

“How do these feel? Better?”

She feels JJ nod, his chin brushing the top of her head. “Much.” There’s a pause, long enough that she starts to feel like she’s about to nod off, then he whispers, “Thank you, Sail. I know I don’t say it enough.”

She takes a deep breath, fingers stilling on his side, “Because you don’t need to, J. Remember what I said earlier, in the bathroom?”  

He nods again but doesn’t reply, instead drawing circles on the small of her back, so she takes it as a cue to continue, “I care about you, okay? You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just...doing what feels right.”

After a beat, the arm she’s using as a pillow curls and pulls her tighter against him as he says quietly, almost shyly, “I care about you, too.”

The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle without either teenager noticing and the gentle pitter-patter against the roof casts a somnolent spell into the air, dazed and dreamy. It wraps around the pair, not unlike the way they wrap around each other, and slowly, easily, safely, they drift off as one.

-

let me know what you think!

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[lennydaisy]

EPIPHANY // OUTER BANKS

The Outer Banks. Paradise on earth. Well, it is if you can afford it.

Figure 8, home of the portentous and intitled. So detached from reality that you'd have to use their private jets to bring them back down to the ground. If they're not lounging around on their secluded beaches in front of their White House sized mansions, then they're at the country club complaining that their ice-cold lemonade isn't ice-cold enough. We call them Kooks. Guess where I don't live?

Next up, The Cut, neutral habitat of, drum roll please ladies and gentleman... The Pogues. Lowest members of the food chain. You see, it's one island divided in two. You either have two houses or two jobs. I have two jobs and will still never be able to afford one house, let alone two, but that's life I guess. The Pogues are like those kids your parents tell you to stay away from when you visit the park. Well, now the park has stretched to all aspects of life warranting us to be unwanted and neglected which isn't such a bad thing, that just means we get to do whatever we want, whenever we want.

Right now, however, this is the last place I want to be. Save-A-Lot. One of my two jobs. See how this all ties in?

The continuous, subtly, beeping of the scanner, the bright overhead lights that the same moth has been flying into for a week now, that one cart that you can hear before you see, and this frustratingly itchy, red polo shirt that I'm wearing because it's 'oh-so mandatory'.

It's been reported that a storm is going to hit us in a couple of days, so naturally, the stores been busier than usual, with both Kooks and Pogues. It's like sacred land, all differences get put aside in this very store unless there's a two for one deal at the seafood counter. In that case, no one's safe, not even me, the poor, little employee. I've been slapped with a Tuna Fish before. I don't want to talk about it.

"Can I interest you in some... What are they again? Sea salted chocolate with a crushed Macadamia nut shell and a rich creamy filling, homemade by Mrs Adams?" I squint at the packaging before smiling at the man before me who peered at me, head tilted slightly. Nodding instantly, already knowing the answer, "I don't blame you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

Smashing my fingers on the scratch invested, touch screen register, slapping the side of the machine until it eventually rings up the total, "That'll be $148.98 however, you get the extended family discount, so that makes it..." twirling my finger around the air, attempting the mental math, "10% off $148," I utter, closing my eyes as if that's going to help me find the answer quicker. 'I knew I should have joined the math team with Pope.'

"$134," the man affirms looking at me sympathetically, halting my search for my calculator that is normally taped to the till. I take the mans money, squinting at him, "Okay, I'll take your word for it man but if I get fired, I want a job at The Wreck," handing him his receipt.

"We'll see," he said putting his packed bags back into his cart, "I'll get through to you one day. You can't deny I'm your favourite" I state in a matter of fact, waving him off as he pushes his cart away from the checkout, "Bye Mason."

"I don't hear you denying it," I shout, watching him hurridly pushing his cart towards the door, "Okay bye Mr Carrera, tell Kie I said hi!"

Twirling around in my chair a couple of times, I came to a stop at the sight of a pink calculator, my pink calculator, taped to Mrs Adams till. That Bitch. I sit patiently for her to be done with her customers, waving at the elderly couple as they pass, "See you later Mr and Mrs Graham, have a nice day," I smile.

"Oh you too Mason, you should stop by again, you and your friends were such a delight the last time," Mrs Graham praises tapping her ringed fingers on my counter. Nodding at her request as her husband began to drag her away from me, claiming he 'Wants to be home today not tomorrow,' knowing his wife to be quite the blether.

"What a pleasant young lady. Wouldn't you agree, Marty?"

"Oh yes, very well mannered."

"Listen here, sticky fingers, I know you stole my calculator" My smile instantly dropping as I look upon the thief that I have the pleasure of calling my co-worker.

Mrs Adams is your typical grandma. Tonged hair, thick-rimmed glasses and filled with opinions that are always unwarranted. She has had it out for as long as I can remember, once locking me in the walk-in freezer claiming to not know I was in there despite being in there with me moments before. At least I only have to deal with her a few days a week, I couldn't handle any more than that.

"What calculator?" she questions innocently. Pointing my finger accusingly at her till where low and behold, sits my calculator, "Oh really, what's that then?"

Sparing a glance at my calculator, she shakes her head, nose pointed up, "That's an anniversary gift from my husband. I, by no means, stole your calculator."

I can't believe I'm having this conversation.

Laughing at her alibi, "Are you aware of how much bullsh-", the clearing of a throat interrupts my tangent and I suddenly became aware of where I am again. Mrs Adams raises her eyebrows at me, is she mocking me? Glaring at her one last time as to say 'this conversation isn't over', I timidly spun my chair back around, plastering a smile on my face, getting ready to greet my next customer.

Oh no.

"Hi, Mr Cameron," I greet the man, scratching behind my ear hoping he didn't overhear me. Beginning to scan his items, another figure catches my eye.

Rafe.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, I present the biggest dickhead on the entire island. He thinks everybody owes him something just because his daddy is well known throughout the OBX and has no problem expressing his distaste for anyone who doesn't fit his agenda. He's a cocky, arrogant snob who needs to be knocked off his podium a few inches, or feet.

"Hello, Mason, and how many times have I told you to call me Ward?"

"Clearly not enough for me to listen," I mutter under my breath, passing the already packed bags towards a very accepting Rafe, who snatched them with a scrawl printed on his face, "Your face will stay like that if the winds change" I advise innocently, waving my fingers around my forehead area, "Don't want to get any wrinkles, but if you need some anti-ageing cream, I'm sure Mrs Adams can recommend a few of her favourites,"

"Maybe even get you a coupon," I suggest finishing to scan the last of their items, "Isn't that right, Mrs Adams," I called to the lady over my shoulder how instantly peeped up at the chance to chat with the boy.

"Oh, yes. Come here deary, I'll show you my collection,"

It's no secret throughout the OBX that Mrs Adams is a bit of a renowned cougar, having no problem expressing herself towards any sort of male attention. Mrs Adam doesn't discriminate, so even assholes like Rafe can't escape the clutches of her fondness, but she's harmless... most of the time.

Ward nudges his son in the direction of the lady, who is eagerly waiting for the boy with her creams placed in an orderly fashion before her. Rafe's eyes practically begging for his dad to have some mercy on him only to earn a point in her direction.

"I hate you," he huffs at me, feet dragging towards the ladies till.

Fluttering my eyes with a cheesy smile, "I know," I say before turning to finish Mr Cameron's groceries.

"That's $236 please," I state ringing up his total as he slides his card into the swipe machine, "It'll take a minute, a caveman has better technology than this place." He shakes his head at me, waving his hand slightly, understanding.

"Sea salted chocolate, uh?" he wonders picking up the bar, as I mentally slap myself for forgetting to ask if he was interested, "Would you like to buy one?" I questioned despite already knowing his answer. It's the same one that I've heard all day.

Placing the packet back in its place he shakes his head, "No thank you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

"That's what I'm saying," ripping off his receipt before handing it to him, "Thank you, Mason," he laughs before turning towards his son, who is still listening to Mrs Adams ramble on about why she prefers Olay over Caudlíne.

About to bid farewell to the man, he turns and asks, "I hate to be a bother and I know it's short notice, but would you mind babysitting Wheezie for me on Saturday morning, I know you don't normally work weekends, it's just this storm's going to cause a run-in with my properties and-"

"Of course I will, Mr Cameron," I interrupted his ramble. He looks at me relieved, nodding his head, "See you later, Mason."

"Bye Ward," gross, I'm sticking with Mr Cameron.

Watching as the pair walk past my till I can't help but laugh as I see Rafe slouching away with a tub of Olay Anti-ageing cream. Turning around at the sound, he flips me off, "I'll get you back for this," earning a shoving on the shoulder from his dad, but I can't help but wave cheerily, "Oh, I'm sure you will."

Mr Ward Cameron, my other boss. A few years ago I put up flyers with a tear-off of my phone number offering a babysitting service. Safe to say, I got my fair share of prank calls and when I got a call from someone claiming to be Mr Cameron I assumed it was someone messing with me again, but it turns out it wasn't. He genuinely needed someone to watch his youngest daughter Wheezie and I needed cash, and he does pay generously, especially now considering recent circumstances.

Glancing at the clock that is nailed above the exit I see that it's 2:00 P.M, the best time of my day, getting out of here. Grabbing the key from my pocket, I lock up the till before heading toward the poor excuse of a staff room.

Glancing around the room blue painted room, making sure no one is still on their lunch, I quickly grab my bag and dash over to the fridge. I never, and mean never, condone stealing, that's why I don't call it that. I prefer 'borrowing and then 'forgetting' to give it back'. Sure, I never asked if I could 'borrow' the alcohol that I am currently stuffing in my bag but, that's neither here nor there.

I throw my bag, which I can already tell is going to cause my back hell, over my shoulder. I grab Kie longboard, which I did ask for permission to use, and begin to make my way past the checkouts.

Before leaving, I pivot around, "Hey, Mrs Adams," I called out just to see that she was already glaring in my direction, a bit creepy if you ask me, "Don't worry, you've only got like what, another 6 hours?" acting like I didn't know as I pointed at the clock.

"Oh, and before I forget," I rush over to her counter and rip my calculator off her till. Smiling sweetly at the older lady, saluting her as I leave, "See you next week, Mrs Adams," I laugh, running out the door, jumping onto the longboard.

Let the fun begin.

Now there is something about my friends that you should know. As cheesy as its sounds, we're a group of misfits who happen to fit perfectly together, well almost perfectly, but no matter what we've got each other backs.

Now, where do we start?

JJ Maybank. We've been best friends since the third grade after he got into a fight with some kids who were making fun of me for having a 'boys name', and I haven't been able to get rid of him since. He's the guy who jokingly pushed me off the HMS Pogue only to quickly find out that I couldn't swim. I insisted that it was fine but JJ doesn't take no for an answer and took it upon himself to personally teach me.

He's the most loyal guy I know, willing to drop anything to help his friends. I most definitely developed my kleptomaniac tendencies from him and despite how much I deny it, I have a soft spot for him.

Next, Kiara Carrera or Kie, my best and only girl friend. I met Kie during her first year at the Kook Academy, I had seen her around before, passing out leaflets about how 'we're killing our planet' and that 'the turtles deserve better'.

I was about to go fishing with my dad when I saw someone sitting at the dock, feet dangling in the water. Long story short: she was supposed to meet up with some of her 'friends' but they had sailed away leaving her behind. So, I asked if she would like to come fishing with us, half expecting her to say no, being partly a Kook and all, but she said yes. And now she's one of us, the Pogues. Not sure how her parents feel about that, but there is no denying I'm their favourite. Right?

There's Pope Heyward. I met Pope in the first grade. We were sitting beside each other at assembly and he dared to tell me that my singing voice sounded like cats dying, not that he was any better mind you. I had seen him around the cut a few times, helping his dad with deliveries and after seeing him struggle to carry four bags of groceries, I offered him some help. Of course, being a stubborn 6-year old boy, he delined saying 'I don't need your help, I'm super strong'. Safe to say, two seconds later I was carrying two bags and helped Pope and Mr Heyward with the rest of the deliveries that day.

I got an earful from my dad when I got home, but I didn't care, I'd made a friend that wasn't my brother. They didn't believe me when I said I had a friend called Pope, just brushing it off as one of my imaginary friends. Let's just say they got a fright when my 'imaginary friend, Pope' showed up at the Château.

Speaking of, up next, John Booker Routledge, John B. My twin, fraternal twin. Is 12 minutes older than me and will never let me forget it. My favourite memory with John B was when he fought to the death with our triplet in the womb. Okay, maybe that didn't happen, but you weren't there so, where's your evidence that it didn't?

He's my other half, not my better half because we all know I'm the better twin, and I couldn't live with him and his optimism. He can be irrational at times, but he always has plan A-Z mapped out in his head. I'm currently trying to convince him that we psychic powers, and by currently I'm mean from the day we were born. It's a weird sensation like there's a pit in the bottom of my stomach, and once I get that feeling I know that something's not right. And with a brother like John B, I get that feeling at least 3 times a day.

Might as well introduce myself whilst I'm at it. I'm Mason, Mason Routledge. The better twin. Yes, I too, have a middle name but I will never tell it to anyone because of how utterly embarrassing it is. I have managed to swear John B to secrecy, but I know it's just a matter of time before he blurts it out.

Now I know what you're probably thinking, 'Mason? That's a boys name.' Well yes, you'd be right but really what is a boys or girls name? The reason why I'm called Mason is simple, mom and dad were expecting twins. Twin boys. They had the names planned out as soon as they heard the news. One would be named John B after our dad, Big John, and the other would be named Mason, after our mom's dad. Makes sense, right?. Well, it was until I popped out, y' know not being a boy. But I love my name and I wouldn't change it for the world. My unspoken middle name, however, yes, I would rather that just not be associated with me.

I like to believe that I can hold my own, maybe it's because I grow up in a predominantly male household or the fact that I'm a Pogue, but I don't take peoples shit. My friends and I seem to always have the world against us, but without a doubt, I'd ride or die for them. They're my family.

Seeing the all too familiar hippie van parked at the side off the road brings me out of my autopilot state. Jumping off the longboard, I hurriedly shoved it into the back of the van. Fun fact about John B's van, he never locks it. There would be the fear about someone stealing it, but honestly, it's trashed and smells like weed, no thanks to JJ.

Quickly scaling the fence and as quietly as possible I tip-toed into the under-construction house and up the cement stairs, dodging the dangling wires and leftover pots of plaster.

'I can't believe they got rid of the turtles for this'

I'd know that voice anywhere. Peering around the corner, I spot Kie, hunched over a table reading what I'm assuming is maps for the house. Coming up with an idea, I slowly start to creep towards her, raising my hands just to clasp them down on her shoulders, "And what do you think you're doing?" I say in the deepest voice I can muster.

Jumping out her skin with a squeal, she spins around, hand over her heart, breathing heavily, "Macy, what the fuck? Don't do that," she exclaims, slapping my arm after she realises it was only me.

Unable to stop myself from laughing at her shock, "God, Kie, didn't know you had such a girly scream," I wheeze, arms wrapped around my stomach in an attempt to stop the ache.

Nodding her head pettily, "Yeah okay, you got me," clicking her tongue, but against her best efforts, a small smile dances across her face.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm my giggles, "Once you're done with sad girl hours, come out back, I've got beer," making my way towards the open glass doors.

"Caring about the turtles doesn't make me a sad girl," she exclaims as I nod my head understandingly, "You keep telling yourself that," I wave stepping outside, breathing in the fresh ocean breeze.

From under the scaffolding, I see a pair of dangling legs, "Afternoon, boys," I announce, jumping up in an attempt to smack the dangling feet that I now know belong to JJ

"Did you get the goods?" asks John B causing me to hold my hand on my heart, mocking insult, "Do you have no faith in me Johnny boy," tosing him a beer, "Of course, I got the goods."

Holding one out for Pope, even though I knew he would decline, proving my point as he shook his head, "And where did you get said goods?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

Grabbing two beers, I begin to climb up the scaffolding, plopping down next to JJ, handing him a beer which he greatly excepts, "Are you question my morals?" I ask, taking a big gulp of my beer instantly wincing at the lukewarm taste.

"No, no," I hear him say, turning around, occupying himself with the builder's tools.

It a pretty view from up here. The calm crashing of the waves. The way the cold ocean and the warm sky meet for a perfect kiss on the horizon. Imagine living here. Having no worries. Being full Kook.

Glancing at the boy beside me, I see that he was already looking at me. Lifting my eyebrows in question, "You look cute," he cheekily says, picking at the loose thread on my sleeve.

"Very funny JJ," I saying, looking back out at the water, "No, I'm serious. I love a woman in uniform," nudging his shoulder into mine and I nudge him right back, "Hey," he laughs, dramatically falling to his side, "Watch the sweet nectar," holding his can of beer dearly to his chest.

Shaking my head, I turn to see John B scaling the house, jumping up to the peak of the roof, "Hey, please be careful, Johnny B, we don't earn enough to cover a medical bill," I warn sitting my beer beside me, using my hands to block the blinding sun, staring questionably at the boy.

"Oh, but you'd catch me though, right?" he says, now taunting the idea of falling, balancing on one foot with outstretched arms, "And break your fall? Nope," I popped, reach over to grab my can only to grasp the air. Looking at where I know I placed it, my confusion vanishes when I hear the sounds of slurping beside me.

Blinking at the boy, who just peers back at me after tanning my can, crushing it, and letting out a pleasant burp which he so graciously blows in my direction, "Gross, JJ," attempting to swat away the smell. The boy just shrugs, "What were you not done with that?" faux concern covering his face but his eyes glistening with knowing mischief.

"Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump. I'll shoot you on the way down," says Pope, aim a drill in my brother's direction, "You'll shoot me?" John B taunts, holding up a finger gun, "Pow," he laughs as Pope fall back onto the table pretending to be shot.

"They're going to have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," complains Kie, slugging her way onto the balcony, voicing her distaste for the future Kook's beach house.

"Didn't I tell you to come out when you were done being sad?", I direct, leaning my chin against the cold pole, feeling on top of the world as the fresh breeze blows through my hair.

That swiftly changes when Kie dashes towards my feet, tugging the laces on my converses loose as I hastily attempt to lift my feet away from her snapping fingers, "Go away!" I exclaim hugging my legs to my chest, tusking at her antics "God, you're annoying."

My comment doesn't affect her as she blows me a kiss which I can't help but catch, holding it to my heart sending a wink in her direction, "This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtle I guess?"

"Well, I did, but since you've-" I start, but the feeling of my shoe gets tighter distracts me, "...What are you doing?" I question as JJ finishes up my shoes, "You should double knot your laces," he comments, tapping his fingers in a random beat on the toe of my shoes.

Lightly, I begin to flick his hand away only for him to grab my wrist, fiddling with the silver ladybug charm on my bracelet, "Can I have this?" He has asked me this multiple times in the past and the answer has always been the same, "No."

"Can you please not kill yourself?" Kie squints up at my brother, "And don't spill that beer, you're not getting another one," JJ adds just as a sudden gust of wind brushed past causing John B to lose his balance and drop his beer.

Jinx.

"Oh, shit. No!" cries John B, making grabby hands at his fallen beer.

"Of course you did, like right when I told you."

"Smooth."

"Well done, dumbass!"

"Hey!"

The sound of a car pull up to the driveway halts our attack on John B, yelling being heard, "Hey, uh, securities here. Let's wrap it up," confirms Pope, making JJ and I raise to our feet as John B slides off the roof, "Boys are here early today."

Rushing over to grab my bag once my feet are back on the balcony, I lean over the railing squinting, "Gary? Is that you?" I asked, "You know it's me, Mason."

Turning around to look at friends, "It's Gary guys," I smile, "Gary, good to see you, man!" JJ adds and quickly pulls the back of my bag when he sees Gary climb up the stairs, "JJ!"

"You two, are asking for it," Kie laughs as we all rush back through the house, all of us laughing and cheering, running down the stairs, "Go, go!" I giggled as I Gary's attempts to grab me but I duck under his swinging arms, running out to the garden.

"Not much of a hugger man," JJs joke echoing off the empty wall of the house.

Running up beside Pope, I urge him up over the fence, "Come on, Pope, go, go, go," landing on the other side, watching as he lands flat on his face, "Graceful as always Pope," I giggle pulling him back on his feet.

"Come on Pope, Fatso's coming" JJ encourages, suddenly landing beside us just barely missing the hot-headed security who is dangling over the fence, "Come here, you little pricks!"

"Bus is leaving," John B pulls up the van honking the horn, Kie opening the door for us, laughing as we shove each other in. John B wastes no time hitting the gas, driving away from the angry security.

"Check out Gary, gunnin' for a raise," Pope laughs as we watch a hopeless Gary chase after the van.

Having an idea, JJ unzips my bag and leans out of the open door, "Come on Gary," he taunts, waving the beer can in front of the man like you would a dog with a treat.

"You're going to give him a heart attack," Kie sympathises but still finds his actions amusing, "You're so close! You can do it. There you go," he tosses the can at the poor man who attempts to dodge it.

"God, they don't pay you enough, man" I laugh peering out the door, taking in the sight of Gray who is wheezing with his hands planted on his knees.

Seeing enough torture for one day, Kie tugs us back in, "That's enough," she says finally feeling sorry for the poor man, sliding the door close.

"Oh, come on. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," reasons JJ, plopping down in the back of the van, now finding interest fiddling with the blunt he pulled from his back pocket.

I lean my head on Kie's shoulder and sigh, "I love Gary," I confess, earning a flick on the head from Pope and a nudge on the leg from JJ

We're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.

Prologue: FIN!

What did you think?

I’m really excited to explore Mason’s character and her adventures with the Pogues. I have so much planned for her.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction <3

[fardell24b]

Daria 2097 - Part 1.1

Daria 2097 – Part 1.1

Daria 2097

E.S.T.E.E.M.

Monday, September 16, 2097

Lawndale, Maryland

A blue car was driving along a crowded road. Inside the car, the words Destination: Lawndale High School, showed on the dash screen.

The lower-middle aged man put aside his tablet (from which he was reading the local news) and said. “You know, girls, it's not easy moving to a whole new town, especially for you, Daria, right?”

 “Did we move,” the older daughter, Daria Morgendorffer asked, as she turned from the window.

 Jake laughed. “I'm just saying you don't make friends as easily as... uh, some people. ”

 “Quinn for instance.”

 The younger sister directed her music app to direct the audio to the cars speakers, rather than her headphones.

 Jake was annoyed “Lexi – music off!” he said. The car obeyed and he turned his attention back to Daria. “That's not what I meant... necessarily. The point is, the first day at a new school is bound to be difficult...”

 Daria whispered. Loud enough for the car AI to pick up, but not her father. “Lexi – music back up!” Once the music was back up. “Speak up, Dad! Can't hear you!”

 “Uh, where was I?” Jake turned off the music with a swipe on the dash. “Oh, yeah...” He then saw the status on the dash change. Location: Lawndale High School drop off. Quinn opened the door and got out.

 “Don't get upset if it takes the other kids a little while to warm up to you.”

Quinn got out of the car and looked at the school. It looked better than the school she had left behind in Highland. 'I can be the most popular here, without all the bad stuff,' she thought, as she changed her suit to 'School Mode.'

 “Hi, you're cool. What's your name?” a pigtailed girl asked.

 Quinn directed her system to display her name on the malleable outer layer of the vest. 'Quinn Morgendorffer'.

 “Cool name,” a wavy haired brunette said, bemused by the method she used.

 'Let them speculate,' she thought. Then an alert in her eye glasses said Will U go out with me? Followed by a small picture that resembled a redheaded boy nearby. She was annoyed. She directed the system to send back 'Maybe' as a reply.

  “I'll try to help her through this difficult period of adjustment,” Daria said as she got out.

 “That's my girl! Wait a minute.”

 “See you, Dad!” Daria said as she went towards the school building.

 “OK, Lexi, back to Glenny!” Jake directed, giving 'her' his nickname for the new house.

 The destination field then said Destination: 1111 Glen Oaks Lane. The car closed the door that Daria had left open and drove off. Jake opened the app for his new Consulting Business.

  Jason Tanner noticed the younger sister as she passed by. “Hi,” he said.

 She waved back, and turned back towards the School. “Huh?” Belatedly, he realized that she had sent him a message. 'Am I sure it's her? It could be a coincidence,' he thought. 'Strange.' He looked at his watch unit, where the message beep had come from. 'Hi. I'm Quinn, nice to meet you.' 'A bit late to reply now.'

  Meanwhile, Principal Angela Li entered her office. She placed her tablet on the desk. “Lawndale High, transfer list of new students to active app.”

 “Done,” the High School AI said. “By the way, you know I prefer to be called...”

 The principal interrupted with a clearing of her throat.

 “Sorry, Principal Li.”

 “There was no trouble with the other schools?” she asked.

 “Only with Highland High, Principal Li. But the information was eventually transferred.”

 “Was all of it transferred?”

 “Yes. It also seems that that AI still has '70's hardware.”

 “I don't think so,” the Principal said as she reviewed the information on the tablet. The Morgendorffers caught her attention. It appeared that they had 'rocked the boat' at Highland...

 “Attention, Principal Li. All teachers except Anthony DeMartino have signed in.”

 The Principal sighed. “Is he in the staff room yet?”

 “Yes.”

 “Send him the standard recording.”

 “Yes. Principal Li.”

  The teacher in question was preparing his class notes for the day. “DeMartino! Sign in!” the Principal's message said.

 “Aagh! Why did I have to be born into a period of ubiquitous surveillance!” He turned to the nearby desktop unit, and placed his hand on the scanning surface.

 “Anthony DeMartino recognised, 8:34 AM.”

  After the new students reported to the office, the Principal lead them on a physical tour of the campus. Daria had attempted to do a virtual tour the night before, but the system wouldn't let her in. 'I suppose the Principal only allows virtual access to students,' she thought, as she heard the Principal tell them about the physical security for the fourth time. She also noticed that she was pushing the sports side of the school. 'What about the academics?'

  Twenty minutes later, they had returned to the administration area. “As you can see, our Lawndale High students take great pride in their school. That's why you'll each be taking a small psychological exam to spot any little clouds on the horizon as you sail the student seas of, Lawndale High.”

 “It seems that she's rather prideful of it,” a scarlett-haired girl said to Daria.

 “I agree,” she whispered back. Louder, she said. “S.O.S, girl overboard.”

 Quinn glared at her, while a prissy-looking girl stepped away.

 Daria smirked.

  “Quinn, I don't know why she's testing us together,” Daria said when Mrs. Manson had said that she would be testing them together.

 Quinn shook her head. To anyone else, it was a simple 'No'. To Daria however, it was 'I don't know either.'

 Daria sighed. “You can test me first. It will be less frustrating.”

 “I shall test the younger sister first,” Mrs. Manson said.

 “OK, but don't say I didn't warn you,” Daria said.

 Mrs. Manson turned her attention to Quinn and held up a picture.

 After a delay of 10 seconds, a message appeared on Manson's tablet. “Two people talking,” she said, reading the pertinent portion of the message. “That's right, Quinn, but what are they talking about?”

 After another delay, of 30 seconds, another message appeared on the tablet, detailing an interaction between two dating teens. “Very good, Quinn.” She turned her attention to the other sister. “Now, Dara, let's see if you can make up a story as vivid as your sister's.”

 “It's Daria.'

 “I'm, sorry, Daria. What do you see in the picture, Daria?”

 “Um... a herd of beautiful wild ponies running free across the plains.”

 “Uh, there aren't any ponies. It's two people.

 “Last time I took one of these tests, they told me they were clouds. They said they could be whatever I wanted.”

 “That's a different test, dear. In this test, they're people, and you tell me what they're discussing.”

 “Oh... I see. All right, then. It's a guy and a girl and they're discussing... a herd of beautiful wild ponies running free across the plains.”

 Mrs. Manson sighed. It seemed that the Morgendorffers were going to be as much trouble as Ms. Li suspected. “OK, you can both go to class.”

  After the Psychological test, Daria went to history. “Class, we have a new student joining us today. Please welcome Daria Morgendorffer. Daria, raise your hand, please.”

 Daria raised her hand.

 “Well, Daria! As long as you have your hand raised...” DeMartino gave an evil chuckle. Last week we began a unit on the Cold War. Perhaps you feel it's unfair to be asked a question on your first day of class.”

 “Excuse me?” Daria asked. 'Of course it's unfair. Good thing I'm familiar with mid-to-late 20th Century history.'

 “Daria, can you concisely and unemotionally sum up for us the Domino Theory.”

 “The Domino Theory was used to argue that if one nation in Southeast Asia became Communist, that other nations in the same region were also likely to adopt Communism. This theory ignored the complex internal politics of the nations in question.”

 “Very good, Daria. Almost... suspiciously good.” However with a glance at his tablet on the desk. He could tell that there hadn't been any internet activity in the room. “All right, class. Who can tell me which war the Domino Theory was used to justify?” He walked up to a boy in a football uniform. “Kevin! How about you?”

 “The... Omani War?” Kevin Thompson volunteered.

 “That came a little later, Kevin... a hundred years later. A lot of good men died in that conflict, Kevin. I believe we owe it to them to at least get the century right!”

 “Uh... Operation LunarSet?”

 “Son, promise me you'll come back and see me some day when you've got the Heisman trophy and a chain of Starbucks Knockoffs, and I'm saving up for a third pair of pants! Will you promise me that, Kevin?”

 “Sure!”

 “Can I come, too? I mean, if Kevin and I are still together,” Brittany Taylor asked.

 “We will be, babe. We will be.”

 “Ahh.. Brittany. Can you guess which war we fought in Southeast Asia due to the Domino Theory?”

 “Mmm... no.”

 DeMartino was losing patience. He grabbed his tablet to ensure that Brittany wouldn't cheat. “Please Try, Brittany!”

 “The Al'Oman War?”

 “Either someone gives me the answer, or I give you all double homework and a quiz tomorrow. I want a volunteer with the answer. Now!”

 Daria reluctantly raised her hand.

 “Daria, stop showing off!”

 'Of course.'

[oddree13]

Dec. 7 - Staying Warm - @omgcpwinterextravaganza  (Read on AO3)

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

New York in winter was beautiful. Nursey loved the way the city lit up, the way its inhabitants welcomed the weather, and the way the lights looked while snow danced through the air. And most of all Nursey loved showing off the city. His city.

Which is why he convinced Dex to drive to New York the day after finals so Derek could show him around NYC before Dex had to go to Maine for Poindexter Christmas.

“I can’t stay too long, you know that right?” Dex reminded Nursey an infinite amount of times as they planned the excursion and even on the ride down.

“Yeah yeah,” Nursey said each time, eager to show off the chilly city ambiance to his defense mate.

“You keep saying that, but I’m going to tell you again that I need to get back there alright?”

“I know I know Poindexter. Just chill. You’ll get back.”

He wasn’t getting back. Well at least not the day he planned to.

The morning before Dex was supposed to head out, Nursey convinced him to do a bottomless brunch and he could sober up as he packed. Winding their way back to Nursey’s townhome with a walk through Central Park, the clouds began to gather and snow began to fall.

“It was a great visit Nursey, really, but I need to start packing,” Dex called out as he walked upstairs.

“No you don’t. Just come to the kitchen. I’ll make some tea and you can warm your hands. They’re probably super icy,” he replied, as he put the kettle on the stove.

Coming back down the stairs, Dex wandered into the kitchen to give Nursey a serious look. “If I don’t get on the road by a certain time today my mom is going to start to fret, and my dad, well he’ll just sound like a broken record of ‘I told you this was a bad idea Billy’.”

“There’s no need to rush though. It’s still early, and we can put some music on or a movie. Oh! I can put the fireplace on! I never do that when I’m alone,” Nursey exclaimed, running to the living room to flick the switch on.

“You know most people just start a fire the old fashion way right?” Dex teased, looking fondly at the way Nursey got excited about the simplest things.

“Fine. We can have some tea, and play some music, but then I need to start packing.”

*** Both boys lost track of time, moving from tea to spiked hot cocoa, while blasting one of Bitty’s epikegster playlists.

“Are you neighbors going to mind all this noise?” Dex asked at one point, a little giggly from the cocoa.

“Nah, they can’t hear us I promise,” Nursey shouted as he went to refill his cup.

“Say, what’s in this drink? I didn’t bother to ask why this was so tasty,” Dex called out, following after him.

“Sea salt hot chocolate, some glenfiddich, and a dash of baileys. It’s called a ‘You Go Glenn Cocoa’,” he giggled, unable to not be impressed with himself.

“And I was just starting to think that you were a decent human being and you had to make a bad Mean Girls joke,” Dex whined, but pouring himself more of this drink.

“You recognized that it was from Mean Girls!” Derek shot back, indignantly.

“That’s not the point. The point is, I was starting to think differently of you, but you went ahead and broke that spell by making a pun,” he teased, leaning against the counter, close to Nursey.

As Nursey mirrored Dex and moved in a step closer, a buzz came from Dex’s pocket. Pulling out the phone, the redhead looked down at the screen and then out the window, dropping his phone on the counter.

Looking at the illuminated screen, Nursey could see a text from Mrs. Poindexter.

Billy have you headed out yet? I see the snow in New York is getting bad.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Dex cried out, as he paced in front of the window. “Nursey, I can’t stay I need to go,” he shouted, running upstairs, flustered.

A bit startled and hurt, Nursey followed him up there, and watched as Dex began to frantically throw things into his duffel.

“Dex you can’t go out there, the snow is just going to pick up,” Nursey pointed out.

“No you don’t understand, I’ve got to get home Nurse!”

“But Dex, it isn’t safe to drive. You car could stall, and then what? You’ll be in a broken down vehicle as it gets even colder. The best case is that you get like a flu, and the worst is you’ll die!”

“Don’t be so dramatic Derek. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t plied me with drinks and -” Dex sighed sitting on the bed. Looking out the window he saw the flurries really coming down. “It’s going to be up to my knees by the time I even reach the car won’t it?” he conceded, feeling bad for yelling at Derek.

“I think so. But from what my phone says it should stop tomorrow morning and the streets should be plowed soon enough. You’ll make it back by the 23rd. I promise. If anything I’ll get you a plane ticket since it’s my fault,” he murmured.

“It isn’t your fault Nursey, that was my anger talking. You’ve been a great host, showing me around, and well if I didn’t want a drink I wouldn’t have asked for one. I think a part of me didn’t want to go.”

“Is that so?” Nursey asked, sitting beside him on the bed.

“Yeah, I’ve had a great time, and I like spending time with you. It’ll actually be weird not seeing you for a few days while I’m in Maine.”

“Really I thought you’d be glad to get rid of me.”

“If you had asked me that during our first year I would have said yes, but now? We share most of our life together, so yeah a few days without you would be weird,” the redhead admitted.

“Keep saying things like that and people will start talking,” Nursey grinned, adjusting himself on the bed, accidentally putting his fingers over Dex’s.

Sending a bit of a thrill through Dex, the ginger didn’t move his hand away. “Well we can let them talk then.”

“Did you want to go back down stairs and sit by the fire then? Keep warm as the blizzard rolls in?”

“Sure thing Derek. It’s more time with you after all.”

[writer-and-artist27]

3, 4, 8, 11, 12, 13, 15, 18, 22, 23, 24, and 25 for the get to know your author ask?

Ahhhh! An ask! Thank you, anon. :) Anyways, let’s do this!

3.) What order do you write in? Front of book to back? Chronological? Favorite scenes first? Something else?

Considering my working on both Civilian Pianist and The Sea and Stars, I’ll have to say it depends. For CP, I tend to write from front of book to back in terms of the order, with chronological stuff coming with it, but with interludes and so on, I’ve had to delve into the timeline for the sake of consistency. I usually collaborate with Josh and Leo in that regard when it comes to keeping things on track. 

For S&S though? I try to do the same, just with sprinkles of many conversations with Lang and by extension, Beta, on keeping the CYB elements true to some extent (big ones being Kei and a lot of the CYB characters). Sometimes, this leads to me writing favorite scenes first, but then they go into storage for me to figure out for later. Most of the time, it’s still chronological first.

4.) Favorite character you’ve written

I’m actually going to exclude Tomoko from this question considering she is me to an extent. But for actual original characters barring influence like that, Hisako and Judai have been my favorites, with Hisako basically being able to say a lot of things that Tomoko just doesn’t say or won’t, and Judai being that funny, protective-yet-lenient dad I thought he might’ve been had Canon GX gone that way. A runner-up for this category is actually CP Kakashi though, since writing his floundering throughout the entire process of figuring out his feelings for Tomoko have been amusing. :d

8) Favorite genre to write

Emotional fluff. That’s all I can use to describe it. There’s a reason why a lot of early CP had so much hug-inducing fluff, and aside from me getting used to writing for Naruto in general, I enjoy writing those moments of lighthearted joy that Tomoko has when seeing friends (which in a way has shown up again and again in S&S whenever she hugs Kei). It’s only with CP going into arcs such as the Chunin Exams and everything leading up to Kannabi that adding in the emotion really got me going because of how emotionally open I myself can be. 

11) What aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

Hm… that’s hard to say since there are still moments where I go to early CP and think, “Holy crap, I wrote that?!” in an incredulous voice before rereading again and realizing, “Hey, this is kinda cute.” But for the aspect I’ve improved in the most, I would like to think I did a lot in the fight scene and rising-action/tension categories. Early CP had so much fluff, it was easy to accidentally lose people in it. But when getting into the hard-hitters, well, they hit hard with my most recent work, so I’m proud to look back at those chapters and pat myself on the back for making them.

12) Your weaknesses as an author

Ah. This question. Well, I can only think of two:

Falling back on others a little too often when my writing muse comes to a screeching halt (I mean, Lang’s seen a lot of my stuff when I’ve floundered to the point where I’m surprised she still likes reading my stuff, and there have been many moments where I held myself back from calling Josh and Leo for the sake of trying to figure something out on my own)

Missing commas and em dashes (basically “—”). This is yet another reason why early CP is kinda on the love-hate category for me, because past me missed so many commas. Argh.

13) Your strengths as an author

Just one I can think of:

Delving into the emotions of the character I’m writing in. Even if I struggle with understanding the character in some way (e.g. Kei since she is Lang’s OC, not mine, so she’s harder to write for), getting into their minds and showing the emotion that can come from them is my specialty somehow. Whether it’s because I’m so emotionally open in real life, or just me trying to understand the motivations of the people around me, it shows in CP and S&S really well to where I’m proud (and also kinda mortified) when reviewers comment saying that they’ve cried. Definitely have come a long way from last year, even if I still flounder from embarrassment at seeing my early stuff.

15) Why did you start writing?

I can only really think of a few reasons. Hope you don’t mind the long text post. *scratches head* Then again, you’ve come this far, and I’m grateful. :)

To convey an idea I really wanted to write that no one had really done so far. I’ve said before that CP started with the question of “What if Kakashi had a best friend?”, and that still stands. Adding in how there are very few Civilian OCs that I’ve seen in the Naruto fandom, along with the low coverage of civilians in Naruto in general, that was one factor.

Lang inspired me. Simple as that. Catch Your Breath literally caught my heart when I discovered it in the summer of 2015 (at least, I think it was 2015, I can’t fully remember), and when seeing Kei, I wanted to try writing something along the lines of that too. Not to mention, it’s because of Lang that I got back into Naruto, and I can’t thank her enough. 

Silver Queen’s Dreaming of Sunshine made me see beyond fanfiction again. Shikako caught my heart just as much as Kei.

I wanted to reflect on the growth I’ve done so far as a person. There’s a reason aside from angst as to why I had Vy die at age 18 to the point of it affecting Tomoko in her new life, since so much has happened since then. I’m still attending college, figuring things out little by little, but Tomoko is essentially that self-reflection that I never got to do until now. And seeing how I could’ve been while also exploring the current me in writing has been very much worth it.

I wanted to see what it was like. Posting on Fanfiction and all. Cross-posting on other sites (including AO3) was never really my thing, and my old FFN profile was just sitting on the website, dusty and all after a few select reviews for an old fanfic a friend was doing, so I just dusted it off and got to work.

18) Were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? What were they?

Yes, there were. No doubt about that. For fanfic stuff…

Catch Your Breath. Still my main inspiration to this day. 

Dreaming of Sunshine, especially since it started the whole SI-OC genre in general.

Deja vu no Jutsu, for the worldbuilding and the limits that a writer can surpass (since Vixen Tail wrote a lot to take in, and it’s hard when your brain’s not hardwired for binging), and

Inoue Shiori by Hermionechan90. This was actually the first ever Civilian OC fic for Naruto I ever read, and after seeing Shiori’s accomplishments and her realm in the shinobi world, it got me thinking.

As for books…

Dan Brown’s Robert Langdon series. For the mystery and attention to historical detail.

Robert Galbraith/JK Rowling’s The Cuckoo’s Calling and following books in the Cormoran Strike series, for being a mystery series that I found myself loving.

22) Are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Sex scenes or anything related to smut, period. First, because I’m a demisexual person and the idea of Tomoko doing that kind of stuff equals “WHAT.” 

(Not helped by how Hisako is my spiritual avatar in the sense of protecting the girl, just because she’s so precious to me and the idea of her doing that equals O^O). 

And secondly… well, those CP fans who have seen Chapter 21 and my later “Announcement” chapter will easily understand why. For others, let’s just say I’m not as protected from society’s stuff as it might seem. I’ve seen some uncomfy stuff too, and it’s hard. 

23) Any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

I feel like this is a weird answer, but strangely, my interactions with the older members of my family factor into this. The reason why I personally feel Judai and Hikari are so powerful in CP’s narrative (and not just because they’re honoring my original fanfiction roots in trying to write for Yugioh GX or their being our main heroine’s parents) is because my real Mom and Dad are personally involved in my life. I try to keep them updated every day I can, they help me whenever they can, and it’s been a mutually beneficial and loving relationship. I’ve seen my parents falter and worry, as Judai and Hikari have in-story, while also having a first-hand idea of how even adults in a child’s life can make mistakes (considering how things in life can be - my parents coming from Vietnam more so). So, having them in my life really helped in fleshing out the adult figures in Tomoko’s life, Judai and Hikari included.

24) Have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

I would like to say ‘yes’ to this, but for once, I don’t think I can. I’ve had to research things to the point of knowing the subject matter better (e.g. wartimes in Naruto, looks into the psychological state that Tomoko might have, etc), but I still had outside help in the form of Josh, Leo, and by extension, Lang, Beta, and Abalisk. So I can’t call myself an expert. But considering how a lot of my stories have been rooted in emotion, I think I’m in fair territory.

25) Copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of.

Oooh. Well, I don’t want to say too much, but an entire snippet for you, anon! This is all thanks to you~ :D 

The following scene was actually something I wrote while I was on my summer road trip, thinking it would be for the aftermath of S&S Chapter 13 (where the Drunk Guy incident happened, just with a better ending in the final version), but after some convos with Lang, Beta, and Leo, this specific scene ended up being scrapped (especially since Tomoko was saved much earlier than in CP, with the culprit not even being able to touch her). That doesn’t mean I still don’t like it - no - I just feel bad that I wasn’t able to include this!

Being set up to rest in my room for most of the day felt almost suffocating. Even if I knew it was for my own good.

Apparently trying to cook pancakes on my own after a long night seemed to not be the best idea I had in mind. Even if it sounded good at the time.

I gave everyone I knew such a bad scare last night, I had thought making them breakfast would be a good way to cheer them up. Instead, everyone was clamoring towards me, bustling me back into bed without even letting me finish cooking.

If I wasn’t physically a child already, this said more than enough.

Trying to sleep was difficult though. I wasn’t sure whether it was because of the endless stream of thoughts going through my head about what had happened and what I should be doing now or the state of my throat (which Kei did try to tend to again this morning before putting me back into my futon), but my eyes just couldn’t close. Sure, I could blink, but actually falling asleep didn’t seem like an option.

So instead, I was left staring up at the ceiling, counting the number of tiles up there while occasionally testing my voice with some light singing. Needless to say, it didn’t go so well.

“Haaa… haagh.”

I could’ve been a wheezing teapot if I didn’t know any better.

At least a notebook and pencil was left in reaching distance for me to use if I wanted to talk. My throat seemed to not be happy with me if I tried anyways.

I was already reaching 30 tiles when the door opened. Without even sitting up, I knew it was Kei from the casual sleepwear and messy black bedhead alone, walking in with a tray of food.

“You doing alright there, Tomo?” she said, voice quiet but still recognizable.

With my voice gone, I could only really nod and put on the best smile I could offer.

It was a broken smile, but a smile nonetheless.

But judging by Kei’s face, she didn’t believe the smile or me. Instead, she locked the door behind her, walked over to set the food to my right side and then hung her head. She wasn’t looking at me, but I could tell she was disturbed about something.

Then, she looked up at me with resolute eyes. “… I think I’ll ask Minato-sensei if I can take a break from missions.”

My heart froze.

Whether or not my panic showed on my face, Kei seemed to notice it enough and shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking, Tomo. This is the time of the Third Shinobi World War, and I should get some more experience out there before Kannabi happens.”

I nodded my head as fast as I could, not even caring that my hair was slapping my face while doing so.

“But Tomo, you didn’t see it.” Kei took a breath, and I didn’t miss how her hands clenched the sides of my blanket. “You didn’t feel your own chakra when it happened.”

Now I was feeling confused. In my funk, I sat up and reached over to grab the notebook, flipping to the first blank page to scribble. It took a few moments, but by the time I looked up at her again, Kei was inclining her head at me in confusion once I turned the notebook over in her direction.

What do you mean, Kei? What does my chakra have to do with this?

“Tomo…” Kei then sighed, reaching over to poke my head. “Tomo, Tomo, Tomo.” With each repetition of my new nickname, she poked my forehead, and I found myself getting a bit irritated. “I’m a sensor, remember? And even if you’re okay now, you didn’t feel your chakra when you got attacked yesterday. You… You didn’t know how close you were to… well.” She paused, looking up at me again and I couldn’t miss the amount of emotion rolling through her eyes. “I almost lost you yesterday, Tomo.”

Oh. I opened my mouth, then closed it. The throbbing in my throat was becoming more obvious.

What am I supposed to say right now?

“I-I can’t…” Kei clenched her fists again as she looked down. “That can’t happen again. Until everything boils down, I want to be there for you if any bastards target you again.”

I could only find myself mouthing Kei’s name before closing my mouth again.

What was I supposed to say?

I glanced down at my own hands before the lightbulb went off. Then, I turned to another page in the notebook, scribbling again. Near me, I could hear Kei’s confused grunt at my actions. I was honestly hoping what I was writing was enough to reassure her.

Kei needed to hear my opinion at least. Even if I couldn’t physically voice it.

When I finally turned the page over in her direction, I tried to hide my own gulp.

I’ll be okay. I’m not fully alright now, but I’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry about me, Kei. You should focus on your training and your work so that this doesn’t happen again.

I’ll be alright.

Once Kei finished scanning my message, she looked up at me with softened eyes before reaching over. The last thing I was expecting was for her to push my notebook down into my lap before pulling me into a hug. “Tomo, you’re not fine at all. And it’s okay for you to rely on friends sometimes, y’know.”

I opened my mouth again, only to close it.

A hand started to run through my hair. “You’re my friend, Tomo, so let me be here for you. Please.”