#seriously Please read those zines

[bloodyroarzine]

BLOODY ROAR FANZINE 🐺 IC SURVEY RESULTS

Thank you everyone who answered our survey, shared the interest check across social media, and lended a direct hand toward making this project a reality!

We had 41 submissions and received an overwhelmingly positive response, not only in seeing this zine become a reality, but also contributing to its creation!

"On a scale of 1 to 5, how interested are you in a Bloody Roar zine?"

33 (80.5%) answered 5 - EXTREMELY Interested

Based on this turnout, we will be moving swiftly forward into the next phase of production. Thank you so much for your support!!

Please read below the cut for a detailed breakdown of the results and an important community message.

PROJECT INTERESTS

“How would you like to participate in this zine’s creation?”

Responders could pick multiple answers:

31 want to contribute as an artist

21 want to help support the zine

9 want to contribute as a writer

8 want to contribute through merch

5 want to help the zine as a moderator

2 want to contribute other media

As this will be a free zine available to everyone upon completion, those who wish to support our project are encouraged to share posts about it across social media, directly with friends, and others in the community. We have platforms for promotion on Tumblr, X/Twitter, BlueSky, Instagram, and more recently on Reddit. If you find our coverage is lacking, please feel free to make posts of your own!

With regard to mod interest, we had a few professionals offer their services to make this zine happen; from the bottom of our hearts, thank you. And keep an eye out, because mod applications will be our next major order of business in the near future.

Of those wanting to contribute art:

Responders could pick multiple answers:

29 want to draw page illustrations

12 want to draw spot art

10 want to draw comics

9 want to make or help with merch

From the digital merch options we suggested, all were in high demand:

Responders could pick multiple answers:

25 want wallpapers (mobile/desktop)

24 want printables (bookmarks, etc)

23 want avatars/icons for social media

19 want emotes for chat platforms

Suffice to say, we’ll be pursuing all of the above options.

“What part of the world do you currently live in?”

North America - 29 (79.7%)

Asia - 5 (12.2%)

Europe - 3 (7.3%)

South America - 2 (4.9%)

Southeast Asia - 1 (2.4%)

Oceania - 1 (2.4%)

We’re thrilled to see Bloody Roar’s global impact reinforced in our survey results! 

As stated in our FAQ, this is an ESL-friendly zine that will be coordinated and published in English. Our hope is that those who wish to participate will be able to do so from anywhere in the world without language as a barrier. Likewise, we welcome any fluent volunteers who would like to assist with translation into other languages. 

Rest assured, we will do all that we can to accommodate anyone who expresses interest in this project, so please don’t hesitate to reach out!

“What’s your general age range?”

Teens to 20s - 5 (12.2%)

20s to 40s - 34 (82.9%)

40+ - 2 (4.9%)

On the matter of moderation, it was a decision from the beginning that all mods will be required to be 21+ at the time they apply for project security. We also asked how everyone would feel if we allowed contributors to be 16+ since the zine will be PG-16 in terms of content and a SFW project. 

The vast majority (36 out of 41) said they were fine with 16+ contributors, while 5 said they would prefer all contributors be 18+.

Considering the response, we currently plan to allow contributors aged 16+ at the time of application. However, we take internet safety very seriously so if you have lingering concerns on this matter and want to make sure your reasons are heard, please email us so we can better understand your position and prepare accordingly.

When we asked what else people might want to see contributed, it became clear that many had big ideas! This enthusiasm was wonderful to witness, and we'd like to take a moment to address those ideas real quick.

This was a free response question:

16 requested the inclusion of Cosplay

14 requested rips of 3D models and instructions for rigging

11 requested to hear fan made music, original or remixed

9 requested to read interviews and instructional guides

5 requested more video coverage on the series

5 requested game mods/hacks or fan made games

3 requested more translations of unlocalized material

2 requested access to 3D printing files for character models

2 requested news about upcoming tournaments (online/offline)

While we would love to see more mixed media from Bloody Roar fans, our survey showed a clear trend of people primarily hoping to contribute visual art and writing. 

Though we plan to stay in line with these preferences and keep this zine’s scope fairly traditional, these answers prove there is still a powerful interest in the series and we hope that these results can inspire ideas for future fan projects! 

Our survey only reached a handful of the entire Bloody Roar fanbase, so we expect that this level of interest only represents a small fraction of everyone’s collective passion for the series all across the world.

That's what makes the following data so crucial:

“Are you familiar with the Bloody Roar series?”

Responders could pick one answer that best described them:

14 Play regularly and want the series to make a comeback

12 Are currently active making art, writing stories, and more

8 Played while they were young and the series stuck with them

4 Know of or became curious because of friends, but never played

3 Either found the series recently or identify as semi-active

“Tell us about your experience with the series and what you like about it!”

This was a free answer to an optional question, so not everyone responded, but of those who did, a very particular pattern emerged ― not concerning what people enjoyed about the series itself, but how they came to discover its existence.

Almost everyone said they learned about Bloody Roar through word of mouth.

Some were told about it by friends, others were shown it by a member of their family. When they weren’t introduced to it by a person, they found BR on their own by way of demo discs, used game stores, and YouTube recommendations from similar topics.

This may have been the most important question on this survey for the community.

We cannot sit on our hands hoping that other people remember Bloody Roar enough to mention it before we start talking about it ourselves. We cannot passively wait for a corporation to do something with this beloved series just to include it in conversation. If we want to see anything done, we have to do it ourselves ― and that’s what this project is all about.

This zine is a celebration of our existing interest, yes, but it will also serve as a beacon. It’s a way to keep talking about a series that deserves more attention; it’s an eye catch; it’s inspiration.

Everyone who is passionate about this series, this is a call to action:

If you want to see a tournament, online or offline, organize that tournament; if you want to make a fan comic, make that fan comic; if you want to do a series rewrite, do that series rewrite; if you want to see something, read something, play something, but don’t feel like you have the tools or capability, then organize with or commission others who would be thrilled to make it happen.

Don’t let fear or embarrassment stop you from pursuing something that would make you happy. Let this initiative inspire you! Start drawing, start writing, start programming ― even if you don’t feel like you’re capable of those things. Practice drawing by looking at the series’ art, do studies of beast forms, open a word document and write your thoughts down no matter how disjointed, and you’ll see how quickly you improve just by letting your interest fuel you.

Whatever you do, don’t wait for someone else to make the first move.

An incredible number of individuals make posts wondering if anyone remembers Bloody Roar, and far too few stick around to have a conversation afterwards. You have to earnestly share your interest, talk openly about it, or nothing will change.

We do remember Bloody Roar. We’re here, and if this survey proves anything it’s that we’re all crying out for a greater sense of community. So let’s use this opportunity; let’s take the initiative, shake off whatever’s stopping us from creating, and pay homage to this series that is so near and dear to us!

“No matter how small and niche and insignificant something might seem, the very act of researching, or spending time with, or caring for it imbues it with meaning. To you, and to the people you share it with.” ― Brian David Gilbert

FAN FAVORITES

Because the creative end of the fanbase is generally split apart without a centralized platform to find and share their work with others, we felt it was important to remind people and better understand why we remember this series so fondly.

“What’s your favorite Bloody Roar game?”

This was an optional question that 40/41 participants responded to:

20 said Bloody Roar 2 was their favorite

11 said Primal Fury/Extreme was their favorite

4 said Bloody Roar 3 was their favorite

3 said Bloody Roar 1 was their favorite

2 said Bloody Roar 4 was their favorite

Bloody Roar 2 stuck in people's minds by a landslide, so we'll be basing our zine's graphics and visual design off of BR2 to ensure it feels recognizable at a glance.

“What is your favorite animal?”

This was a completely optional question left at the end of the survey:

13 said wolves or foxes

10 said big cats, especially tigers

7 said rabbits

Other responses included dogs, bats, crows, octopi, hyenas, stoats, and cockroaches.

Hopefully it was fun to think about in this context. Maybe next time people can consider what their beast form would be if they were a zoanthrope!

“Who are your favorite characters in Bloody Roar?”

Responders could pick multiple answers:

#1 Shina (Marvel) the Leopard - 24 (58.5%)

#2 Shenlong the Tiger - 19 (46.3%)

#3 Uriko the Cat/Half Beast - 18 (43.9%)

#4 Yugo the Wolf & Long the Tiger - 17 (41.5%)

#5 Jenny the Bat - 16 (39%)

#6 Alice the Rabbit - 15 (36.6%)

#7 Bakuryu the Mole - 14 (34.1%)

#8 Hans the Fox - 13 (31.7%)

#9 Gado the Lion & Stun the Insect - 12 (29.3%)

#10 Busuzima the Chameleon - 8 (19.5%)

There were some close calls as votes came in, but here are the runner ups:

#11 Mitsuko the Boar & Xion the Unborn - 7 (17.1%)

#12 Reiji the Crow - 5 (12.2%)

#13 Cronos the Penguin/Phoenix & Uranus the Chimera - 4 (9.8%)

#14 Kohryu the Iron Mole & Mana the Ninetails - 3 (7.3%)

#15 Nagi the Spurious & Greg the Gorilla - 2 (4.9%)

No one said Ryoho the Dragon was their favorite.

This gave us an idea of which characters still stick in the minds of fans so many years since the last game’s release. It also gives us a sense of which characters are most desired to be seen and who will most likely be receiving more focus in the project.

“What do you like about those characters?”

This was an optional free response question. As expected, quite a lot of appreciation was granted to gameplay and how stylish the designs were, but the most common praise was given to each of the characters’ memorable personalities, backstories, and dynamics with each other. 

Bloody Roar’s story has won out through this survey time and again, which is precisely the part that's become increasingly neglected as the years wear on.

For the last decade or more, outside of the FGC scene, it’s kind of been a free for all, “every man for himself” situation when it comes to Bloody Roar. This survey has proven that the story focused fans should be embraced to have a thriving community.

FUTURE BLOODY ROAR FAN PROJECTS

We got LOADS of interest in projects beyond this singular zine, which is very exciting! These will not happen until after this particular project is completed, but rest assured your interest is noted and we will do our best to pursue them one step at a time.

“What future Bloody Roar fan projects would you be interested in seeing?”

Responders could pick multiple answers:

33 want to see more free digital zines like this one

31 want to see the production of physical fan merch

29 want to see the production of limited run physical zines

26 want to see Bloody Roar themed artwork collabs/exchanges

25 want to see digital zines for purchase (artist profit or charity)

22 want to see the preservation and translation of official BR media

17 want to participate in a fandom discord server (story/lore focus)

16 want to see Bloody Roar themed writing collabs/exchanges

One person also wrote that they wanted to see Bloody Roar themed mods for different games, like Bomberman or other Hudson properties.

“What themes would you want to see from future Bloody Roar zines?”

This was an optional free response question:

12 want to see a zine focused on fashion (street, formal, etc)

10 want to see a zine focused on animals and beast forms

9 want to see a zine focused on lore, story, and characters

9 want to see a zine focused on characters in slice of life scenarios

8 want to see a zine focused on the players and BR's legacy

8 want to see a zine focused on fighting styles and move analysis

7 want to see a zine focused on flowers and flower language

5 want to see a zine focused on Bloody Roar OCs or Crossovers

3 want to see a zine focused on the horror and dark themes in BR

2 want to see a zine focused on romance, including OCxCanon

1 wants to see a zine focused on the villains of Bloody Roar

Additionally, 6 people said they would be happy to see anything BR related at all.

These suggestions were a joy to see! We'll never run out of ideas or motivation thanks to everyone's inspiring interests.

Please know that the invitation is completely open for anyone to spearhead their own similar projects. We don't have the market cornered on this, and we all win when there’s more Bloody Roar-related creativity shared with the world.

And that wraps up our Interest Check #1 results! Thank you for reading this far.

We'll be running a second interest check alongside our upcoming mod apps in order to finalize many of the details from information we collected in this survey. Thank you so much for your interest and support - and if you didn't get a chance to respond to this first survey, then the second one will be your next chance!

Those looking forward to contributor apps, your patience will be rewarded. For now, take a look at our Carrd for a tentative breakdown of our zine's submission and portfolio guidelines so you can prepare.

Thank you @donotwander for drawing half of the favorite character chibis with @five5sixers, @banchou for the cute favorite animal art, and @3V4C for helping out with the graphs on Canva.

[magioftheseas]

Shades Of A Perfect Blue

Written for the @sayakazine Please check out the fundraiser!!! Summary: Sayaka just wanted to shine as an idol alongside her friends. She didn't want to be singled out. She definitely didn't want to be targeted. Warnings: Violence, Stalking, Murder, the dark side of idol culture Notes: This is one of my two fics posted for the Sayaka Zine! It's definitely more psychological thriller and horror-focused. As you can tell from the title, it's based off Perfect Blue! Fantastic movie. The fic's not quite as dark, but I hope it's still a suitably chilling read. There's focus on the Sayaka/Ayaka relationship and some minor references to Naezono too. But this is one of my favorite pieces written for a zine! Currently, the Sayaka Zine is running a fundraiser, so please show them support! Special thanks also to @softausterity for the illustrations, which are included in both the zine and the Ao3 version. Go check them out, too! Their illustration of the crane is soooooo good! ***Alternative Ao3 Link*** Commission? Donate?

It’s well into the night and once again, the only company she has are the gaggle of girls on the screen. But Sayaka wasn’t lonely at all.

Not when the girls sang so sweetly and in such perfect unison like a picturesque family. The kind that Sayaka always wanted to have. They followed one another’s lead, their smiles even brighter when regarding each other.

In that small, dark room, those girls were twinkling stars in Sayaka’s eyes.

Guiding stars down a path she very much wanted to follow.

Not even the otherwise encompassing darkness would deter her, not when she had that light to reach for and steal away between her fingers.

As long as she had that light, nothing else would drag her down.

–

The stage lights were much more blinding when you were under them, much to her delight.

From the cheering crowd to the manic grins on the other girls’ faces, that first performance was no doubt a roaring success.

“CHARM! CHARM!”

“Thank you, thank you!” Sayaka shouted. “Thank you so much, everyone! Give all your heart to CHARM!”

Just her waving her arms eagerly had the crowd shrieking in delight. Cries of her name, confessions of love and adulation, the promises of support—nothing at all like her father’s miserable drunken nights.

“CHARM! WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH, CHARM!”

Her heart swelled, and for once, it wasn’t with guilt.

She was still so giddy once they retreated backstage. She traded high fives and fist-bumps with the other girl and happily accepted a hug from Satomi. They were all bursting with energy and excitement, fingers so entwined and interlocked to the point of happily ignored pain.

“That went so great!”

“We killed it!”

“Everyone loves CHARM! They love us!”

Just like the crowd, there were squeals of delight from CHARM! All except for one member. A lone girl downing a bottle of water where the light strained to reach. Sayaka slipped away with surprising ease, and she practically skidded into the loner’s back.

Ayaka doesn’t even stumble, just chuckling lowly as she does. Without missing a beat, she took another water bottle and handed it over like a baton at the sports festival.

“We did good,” she said, and the light danced in her eyes even if her wry smile remained firm. “But it’s going to be much rougher down the road.”

“It’s fine,” Sayaka said, and the cap scraped against her palm as she cracked the bottle open. “We can do anything.”

Ayaka’s smile didn’t even twitch. Her head cocked to the side, casting part of her warm expression in shadow.

“Just don’t lose sight of yourself, Saya.” Ayaka took another sip. “That’s really easy to do in this line of business.” She finished off the rest. “Idols are expected to give all of themselves–but only the parts that people like. As for the rest…”

She tossed the bottle without looking, and it landed perfectly in the trash.

“Hold onto yourself like a lifeline,” she said with such seriousness. “No matter what happens, never lose yourself.”

Sayaka could only frown.

“What do you mean?”

Before Ayaka could answer, their manager’s booming voice cut through like lightning splitting the earth. Ayaka had quickly composed herself and dragged Sayaka to that booming voice, to that overbearing presence that Sayaka still somewhat feared.

Even though the manager was smiling, Sayaka still felt that way. It took everything to not flinch when those fingers branded themselves on each of the girls’ shoulders.

But Ayaka had held her hand like a lifeline, and that alone was enough to keep them afloat.

–

“Hey, everyone! How’s your heartbeat? Is it going crazy~?”

“Ayaka-chan! You should know better than to tease!”

Ayaka stuck out her tongue, making sure that it came with a cute sound so that the audience was aware. Even with the stuffiness of the sound booth, she acted natural and sweet.

(Seriously, it was almost suffocating.)

“Anyway!” Satomi exclaimed. “It’s that wonderful, heart-throbbing time! Kyaaa! You get what I mean, right?!”

“My heart won’t stop racing,” Sayaka murmured, and the other girls cheered.

“It’s time for Love Letters to CHARM!”

It was supposed to improve morale. The producers said that nothing touched a young idol’s heart more than the pure, earnest love of her fans.

(She knew a pure and earnest boy once. She wonders if he sent anything in. And she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t wonder about anything. To pick one out would be a betrayal to everyone else.)

Still, she wonders what types of letters she’ll receive. They’re already sorting the letters between the girls, and the girls are trading smirks and nods to signify who goes first.

“Satomi-chan, your smiling face gives me strength.” Satomi was beaming brighter than the sun. “Thank you so much!”

“Aya-chan, your strong eyes get me through the day.” Ayaka just laughed at that. “Oh, so just my eyes and not the rest of my face, hmm?”

“Ayaka-chan, you know what they mean! Don’t tease, haha!”

“Nyeh!”

The others were having fun. Ayaka especially was in a good mood. It all seemed light-hearted. Sincere, even.

But Sayaka still felt a twinge of…uncertainty.

Will everything really be okay?

Will we be fine?

How do the fans even see me? What do they see when they look at me?

“Saya,” Ayaka sing-songs, elbowing her. “Come on! Your turn! Don’t keep us in suspense!”

The audience thankfully is unable to see the slight tremor in Sayaka’s hands as she tears open the first letter. Her groupmates are quiet to drill up anticipation.

(And as a show of understanding. Ayaka is even comfortingly squeezing her thigh under the table.)

“Sayaka-san,” she finally reads. “Looking at you makes me feel like I have an older sister. You’re my guiding star and I never feel like I’m alone. I will support you always.”

She releases her breath. Joy bubbles in her heart. Just like that.

“Thank you so much! I won’t let you down!”

Everything will be fine.

(What a foolish thought that had been.)

–

“Sayaka-chan, you’re truly like a star. Shining and out of reach, and yet that makes it all the more special that you grace us with your light. You truly are the heart of CHARM!”

“Oh, but!” Sayaka hurriedly exclaims. “I wouldn’t be anything without anyone else!”

“Flatterer!” Ayaka exclaims right back. But when the show’s finally over, Sayaka crumbles the letter.

“I really don’t like it when they demean the others to compliment me.”

“Some fans are like that,” Satomi sighed. “I’m not taking it seriously and you shouldn’t either, Sayaka-chan.”

The others were already nodding along firmly as Ayaka nuzzled her cheek.

“We still appreciate it, and we know you care about us. In fact, we know you best, right?”

Ayaka really was warm and comforting.

“R-Right.”

“So, don’t worry!”

“I won’t.”

She had meant it. At the time.

(But things can never be so simple, can they?)

–

She first heard about the fan blog from a fan’s shouting as passed by after another successful concert.

“I’ll always follow Sayaka’s Room!”

The producers had explained it to her.

Just think of it like an online shrine, they said.

How flattering, Satomi said.

Don’t look at it, Ayaka said.

She found herself googling it in the dead of night. The latest entry, of course, is about the recent concert. Paragraphs gush about the stage, the music, Sayaka herself, and the words…

Like a guiding star, I can’t help but look away! I’ll never stop being a Sayaker!

It’s harmless, her producers said. It’s a symbol of love, they said.

There were countless other entries. Each and every event from meet-ups to even guest appearances were oh-so lovingly documented. Every stitch and crease in her outfits was remarked upon. Even the smallest twitch did not go unnoticed.

“Sayaka’s crooked smile chips away my heart! Is she sleeping well?”

That was from an event where she nearly collapsed backstage. Ayaka had given her such an earful.

“Oh, Sayaka! How I wish I could chase away the darkness that threatens your light!”

“It’s harmless,” she repeats to herself as she scrolls. “It’s a symbol of love.”

–

A couple of days later, a picture of her is posted.

It’s not of any event.

It’s her in her school uniform.

She’s laughing with her classmates. There are a couple of male classmates close by.

The comments are livid.

“It might be best,” her producers said with apologetic smiles. “If you were homeschooled from now on, Sayaka-chan.”

There are pictures posted of her heading to the station she takes home.

“As expected of Sayaka-chan! She always so dutifully gets on the train with her left foot!”

She can’t imagine what her father might think. She doesn’t tell him anything.

“It’s just love,” the producers had said. “It’s just an intense, different kind of love.”

“How about you room with me for a bit?” Ayaka asked after a long day. It’s a casual question. Ayaka doesn’t even bat an eyelash differently and Sayaka finds herself trembling as she forces out an answer.

She can’t imagine what her father might think, but she also isn’t sure he would even notice if she just…didn’t return home for a while.

–

“It’s time for Love Letters to CHARM!”

Another cheerful session. Joking and laughing. And then Sayaka goes to open up her letter and slices her fingers from the blade taped inside. Everyone goes silent. They stare at her with wide eyes, all save for one.

“Gawd, Sayaka,” Ayaka just laughs, but her stare is hard and cold. “Don’t you get enough letters?”

Without missing a beat, she snatches up one and tears it open without a preamble.

“You’re my guiding light!” she gushes in a fake, high-pitched voice. “So pure and shining! Don’t let anyone overshadow you! Oi, oi, what are the rest of us, chopped liver?”

“A… Ayaka!” Satomi gasped. “It’s rude to look at other people’s letters!”

Sayaka joins in the laughter as her blood stains the envelope red, red, red. Someone outside the recording booth is already screaming to get the first aid team.

“I’m sure they didn’t mean it like that! I certainly don’t feel that way!”

Someone is rushing with the first aid kit.

“After all, you girls are everything to me!”

One of them just bursts into tears. Ayaka teases her for being soft. Satomi’s gaze flickers nervously. And Sayaka is pulled into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” is whispered oh so pitifully into her ear, away from the microphone. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

Sayaka’s fingers are bandaged up but they finish the session. The staff is the one that opens the letters now, all of them tentative and with utensils to make sure none of the others are dangerous. When done, they set the opened letters in front of each girl that the letter is for.

“I’m glad you don’t go to public school anymore,” one letter says. “Those pigs would’ve dirtied you.”

“You’re too pure for us normies,” another says.

“I’ll always forgive you, Sayaka-chan,” is written in a crude scrawl.

Are these letters really for her?

–

Sayaka’s Room is going strong. And now she can feel the blogger’s eyes where she goes. She’s painfully aware of someone following her as she’s shopping for groceries to prepare dinner with Ayaka. They’re unremarkable in every way and always on their phone. They would slip under the radar of any other person.

Sayaka glances at them. They flinch. She smiles. They look so dazzled.

They’re not even shy about snapping her picture.

It doesn’t show up on the blog. They must’ve thought that smile was for them alone.

In a way, it was. Treat someone like they’re special and they’re all the more likely to follow you even if it’s to the ends of the earth.

–

The Crane Wife was one of her favorite stories growing up if only because it was one of the precious few that her father read to her at night.

There really had been something sweet and melancholy about it, namely about the woman who plucked her own feathers for her lover’s sake.

Plucking herself thin so that she could support him. Essentially destroying herself for his financial gain. It was a romantic sacrifice and how she justified her father’s absence as time went on.

But sometimes, her mind wandered within the story.

If the crane wife had never fled, what would happen?

Surely, her lover would make her promise not to hurt herself anymore, right? Surely, he’d work harder to support them without needing to sacrifice her, right?

Except… Life could be hard, sometimes. Money still needed to be made if you were to survive.

What were another few feathers when you’re looking to preserve your livelihood?

If that man never let the crane wife escape, then what would’ve happened? Would she be plucked until all that remained was a naked corpse to cook and consume?

Or would she have snapped and stabbed her once lover through the heart with her sharp beak?

The human chest was surprisingly durable despite the heart being such a fragile thing, but if the crane wife could slip her beak between those ribs like so…

(Sayaka twisted the knife, digging it in deep. The red bloomed under her gloved hand like a rose.)

The heart really was such a fragile thing, she thought.

–

She returned to her place with Ayaka soon after that to strip away the blood-soaked clothes and gloves. It was Ayaka who ran the bath afterward at just the temperature she liked.

“It’s no problem, Saya,” Ayaka said like it was nothing. “I have a couple of favors I needed to pull anyway. No one will ever know.”

Ayaka squeezed her shoulder, and Sayaka very nearly sank deeper into the water. It took everything in her to not curl up and scream.

“So,” Ayaka began, speaking slowly like she was approaching a cornered animal. “How are you feeling?”

Sayaka breathed in. She breathed out.

“The funny thing is that once I decided to kill them… It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it’d be to actually…do it. I think that swimsuit photoshoot was harder.”

“I can believe that,” Ayaka sighed. “Well, I already called some guys to get rid of the body. And the detective said that the guy was just some loser shut-in, so no one’s gonna be looking for them. Not even their family. They were disowned years ago.”

Sayaka clenched her hand into a fist against her thigh.

“That makes things way easier.” Ayaka patted her head like she was a child. “Next time, don’t worry about getting your hands dirty. I’m always here to help, Saya. I promise.”

Sayaka leaned into her embrace, not saying another word as she soaked.

–

There was a boy she liked in middle school. She started liking him after she saw him carry a crane across the campus no matter how much the crane protested and flapped. He held onto that crane securely even as he struggled.

What a pure and earnest boy.

She wondered what he would think of someone like her if he knew the truth.

Would he still…?

[chenziee]

Acceptance

Written for the @yamabrozine! Please enjoy some Yamato and Straw Hats shenanigans 👹👒 There's a slightly different first person POV version of this too but idk if I should post it... we'll see if I feel like cleaning it up xD

Huge shout out to my beta who helped me every step of the way and whithout whom this wouldn't be here today! The real MVP 🖤

[ Read on AO3 | Yamato zine fics ]

----------

When Yamato told the Straw Hats he was going to join them after the battle of Onigashima, he wasn’t expecting them to accept him.

‘Kaido’s son?!’ ‘We should kill you!’ ‘Stay away from Luffy!’ ‘Ew.’ Those were the words he had expected to hear. But instead, the pirates who were present and awake at the time looked at him, then at each other.

“You’re Kaido’s son?!” God Usopp asked, cowering slightly behind Black Leg Sanji. 

Yamato clutched his kanabo but smiled, refusing to let his nerves show. He was going to sail with these people; he needed to show them he was no danger—

“I'm not complaining if you join us!” Sanji announced immediately after, looking at Yamato with a very strange expression on his face. Did—were those hearts in his eyes…?

“I swear, Luffy always picks up the weirdest people,” Cyborg Franky sighed.

Nami rolled her eyes in response but there was a small smile playing at her lips as she shot back, “Look who’s talking. You’re the weirdest one by far.”

“Yow! Thanks!” Franky called loudly, striking a pose, and Yamato had to fight back his excitement at the sight of the cyborg’s large, metallic arms clanking together.

“That wasn’t—never mind,” Nami muttered before shaking her head in disbelief. Yamato noted her smile was still firmly in place, however.

Nico Robin approached him then. “Yamato, right?” she asked.

Yamato simply nodded, meeting her eyes which seemed to peer right into his soul. He was surprised to realise that it wasn’t an entirely bad feeling. Not when she smiled at him, a small chuckle passing through her lips.

“It’s the captain’s decision who gets to board his ship. But if Luffy’s fine with it, no one is going to complain. You don’t have to hold back.” There was this knowing spark in her gaze when she gestured behind herself—at her crewmates, who were currently busy shoving at each other, laughing and bickering. They looked perfectly relaxed, as if the son of the enemy they had barely just managed to defeat wasn’t standing right in front of them.

Just looking at them, hearing their carefree laughter… It was making Yamato feel lighter, happier. 

He didn’t even mind that Robin could see right through him—although knowing himself, he was likely being painfully obvious. He was never very good at hiding his feelings, after all.

“Sanji, I’m hungry! Make me your special soba!” Usopp whined, hanging onto Sanji’s waist.

“Me too, please!” Brook joined in.

Sanji clicked his tongue, trying to shake the sniper off. “Shut up! I only take requests from ladies!” he snapped before he looked away from him, his voice turning softer. “What would you like, Nami-san, Robin-chan, Yamato-chan?”

Yamato blinked, taken completely aback by the sincere blue eyes and a genuine smile thrown his way.

Before his mouth could fall open in shock, Robin’s soft chuckle reached his ears. “Looks like you’re already a part of the crew.”

Yamato’s lips stretched into a wide grin and he laughed, his hand shooting up eagerly. “Soba for me, too!”

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” Sanji said, giving Yamato a bow—

—only to yelp when Usopp poked his side. “I think you missed the ‘son’ part.”

There was a beat of silence while Sanji processed Usopp’s words but then he hummed, looked at Yamato critically for a moment, then nodded seriously. “I’m sorry for my oversight. No votes on the menu for you.”

“What?! No fair!” Yamato cried, his eyes going wide.

“Hey, Sanji! No take-backs!” Usopp agreed, shaking the cook for good measure.

Sanji tried to ignore the protests but one pout from Usopp and a single glare from Nami made him break. "Fine! But just this once."

—————

It was about four in the morning a few days later that found Yamato sitting in his room in the Shogun’s castle, recounting the events of that night in his journal. 

The party to celebrate the end of Kaido’s reign—the first dawn after twenty long years of darkness—had died down only a short while ago. Yamato wondered if anyone beside him was awake now; last he knew, only Zoro, Nami, and Kyosh—Denjiro were still drinking and chatting. Everyone else was asleep, completely exhausted. 

And Yamato was too but he refused to go to bed yet—he had too much to say!

When Luffy and Zoro had woken up that morning, the cooks of the castle had insisted on making a feast… but of course, there was no way the pirates could wait for that. Especially since a festival had been ready to go for days, just waiting for the stars of the show to come to.

And some festival it was! Everyone was happy, happier than Yamato could remember. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the happy laughter of the citizens and the sound of Hiyori’s shamisen. Not to mention the sheer amount of food and games!

Needless to say, the Straw Hats raided every stall, much to the chagrin of their owners. 

It was the worst with the food. After all, as Yamato had learned, Luffy could eat. Yakisoba, takoyaki, taiyaki, shaved ice, dango… all of it was gone in the blink of an eye as soon as Luffy got to it, with Yamato not far behind. And even though everything was free—or maybe because it was—the crew ended up getting chased away every time.

In the end, the only stall that let them even close was Sangoro’s Special Soba.

“It’s so good!” Yamato moaned, slurping up the perfectly cooked noodles.

“I know, ‘ight?” Luffy agreed, speaking with his mouth full and pointing his chopsticks at his companion. “Sanji’s cookin’s the best!”

“For real! I can’t believe I can eat this perfection every day now!” Yamato grinned, happily shoving more noodles into his mouth.

“Shut up, you cavemen! ! I only take compliments from ladies!” Sanji snapped, but there was an undeniable, satisfied smile on his face.

There was a sly smirk on Usopp’s lips when he spoke up next, “Ladies and Zoro.”

Sanji nearly dropped the bowl he was pouring right then. “Excuse me? I’d take the shitty Marimo’s compliments least of all.”

“Sure,” Usopp drew out tauntingly before he burst out laughing.

As he looked between Sanji, Usopp, and a snickering Luffy, Yamato tried to understand what was going on… but when he noticed the pink dusting on Sanji’s cheeks, the answer became quite obvious. Huffing in amusement, he threw a smirk of his own at Sanji before the cook clicked his tongue and a throbbing, angry vein appeared on his forehead.

Taking that as a cue, Usopp and Luffy grabbed their bowls and bolted. 

Quickly following their lead, Yamato gulped down the rest of his broth, then shot up and sprinted after the madly laughing duo. Judging by the chair that came flying after them, Yamato wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up without lunch tomorrow…

After they lost their last source of food, the game booths were the next in line.

“Usopp, you’re amazing!” Chopper called excitedly from where he was hanging onto Yamto’s shoulder after yet another booth’s grand prize got shot down.

“Just watch!” Usopp said, showing the others a thumbs up. “I’ll shoot down every single prize with flawless accuracy!”

Yamato’s eyes widened as the booth owner broke out of his stupor only to glare at Usopp. “We’d better scram,” Yamato mumbled, taking a step back while tugging at Luffy’s shirt.

By the time the owner came to menacingly loom over an oblivious Usopp, the rest of them were long gone. The cry of “Traitors!!” was barely heard over their laughter.

But food and games were not the only things the festival had to offer. Wherever Yamato went, the sound of singing and dancing could be heard in tandem with the playing music. Of course, there were the geishas and Hiyori’s traditional Wano songs but there was also someone else, someone who played music the likes of which Yamato had never heard before. 

It resonated right through him, touching the deepest parts of his soul. Obviously, the skeleton wasn’t called the ‘Soul King’ for nothing.

“Do you like Brook’s music?”

Yamato startled at the soft voice behind him. He turned around to stare owlishly up at the woman and cyborg approaching him and, judging by the chuckle Nico Robin gave him, his surprise had to be pretty obvious.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Robin noted when she sat down on the ground next to him.

“I do. It’s so different from the music in Wano or Queen’s party songs,” Yamato replied before he gratefully accepted the cup of sake Franky had offered him.

“Enjoy it while you can. You’ll be hearing so much of his singing from now on that you’ll be super sick of it,” Franky laughed easily.

Yamato hummed thoughtfully at his words. “I doubt that.”

“Remember what you just said when he wakes you up at four in the morning for the fifth time the same week,” Robin remarked with a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Don’t scare me!” Yamato cried in mock horror even as his voice shook with laughter. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine getting sick of it—although he supposed he should hold that thought until he was being dragged out of bed that early on a regular basis…

Right now, however, he didn’t care.

He was too happy and there was too much joy around him… and too much alcohol buzzing in his mind.

But it was a festival; drinking just a little too much was fine!

Although it wasn't like he had much choice in that matter. Earlier that evening, he had learned the hard way that once Zoro and Nami got ahold of someone, there was no way they were leaving sober.

“Yamato, where are you going?” Nami asked with a raised eyebrow, the alcohol swirling in her glass.

“Giving up already, Son of Kaido?” Zoro joined in, his lips curled into a smirk.

Yamato groaned, stopping in his tracks. “I’m just going to get food!”

“Coward,” Zoro muttered once he drained the last drops from his sake cup.

“Coward,” Nami agreed solemnly.

“Excuse me?!” Yamato snapped as he slammed his hands on the table. “I’ll be right back!”

“Sure you will.” Nami leaned back in her chair before she brought her glass to her lips and took a long, taunting sip. There was a teasing spark in her eyes that was very hard to not pick up on and Yamato—

Yamato knew what they were doing.

They were riling him up on purpose, making fun of him and provoking him, all to get him to have just one more drink, get drunk just a little more, lose the undeclared drinking contest just a little faster. It was a clear bait, easy to see through. Like hell was he falling for cheap tricks like that.

“You’re fucking on,” Yamato hissed and sat back down, pouring himself a generous cup of sake.

“That’s more like it,” Nami laughed.

Zoro, too, huffed in amusement and the look he gave Yamato seemed almost proud in the meanest way and Yamato couldn’t help but laugh.

His voice still shaking with glee, Yamato shook his head. “You’re both terrible. Don’t complain to me when you get hungry.”

Just then, a giant plate full of yakitori and a pitcher of clean water appeared on the table. Yamato blinked in surprise before he tore his eyes away from the deliciously smelling meat to look at the one who had placed it there—the whale shark fishman who was looking right back at him with warm eyes and a wide smile.

Yamato’s face split into a grin and he immediately grabbed for one of the sticks. "Thanks, Jinbe!" he said before he bit down, a moan escaping him as soon as the juicy, amazing flavour hit his tongue.

"Thanks, man." Zoro nodded at Jinbe gratefully before grabbing a stick for himself.

Nami smiled at the fishman, pulling out the empty chair next to her. "Here, I saved you a seat, Boss." She winked, making the fishman laugh heartily.

The moment Jinbe sat down, Yamato placed two bottles in front of him. "Queen's whisky or Kaido's sake?"

A beat of silence passed before Jinbe started laughing all over again. "That's what you raided Onigashima for earlier?"

"Right after the packed treasury, yes," Nami agreed. "It's good stuff. Some of these could sell for so much money."

Before Jinbe could even say which one he wanted, a shout came from somewhere on the opposite side of the banquet area. 

"I smell meat!!'

Immediately, both Zoro and Nami's eyes widened. 

"Oh shit," Zoro cursed quietly.

That seemed to be the cue for the both of them to start scrambling to grab as many things off the table as they could, Nami snapping at both Yamato and Jinbe to move.

Yamato had no idea what was going on but Nami's frustrated glare sca—did not scare him. Still, he obeyed as quickly as he could, taking the yakitori plate in one hand and his sake cup in the other—

And a mere second later, something grabbed onto his shoulders.

His eyes went wide as he tried to process what was happening. Hands. Bodiless hands on his shoulders, pulling and pulling… until they weren’t. 

Yamato stumbled forward when the force disappeared, struggling to keep his balance and not drop anything while the panicked cries of ‘Careful!’ and ‘Not again!’ were not helping. Yet, the hands kept firmly clutching at his shoulders and Yamato could only assume the worst.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself for impact as a whole human body came hurtling towards him at the speed of recoiling rubber. 

This idiot. 

Yamato could barely finish the thought before loud laughter filled his ears, coming closer and closer and… further?

Blinking once, twice, he looked blankly in the direction of the loud crash next to him. Apparently, Luffy had managed to completely miss him and instead went flying right by him, toppling over the table… and crashed right into Zoro.

“I’m… going to… kill you one day,” Zoro groaned, lying on the ground under a snickering Luffy and holding one of the expensive sake bottles in the air as far away from Luffy as he could.

Luffy only laughed harder.

Honestly, the way Nami and Zoro had reacted as if this was a normal occurrence was mildly terrify—disconcerting. Was Luffy flinging himself at people from the other side of the room, the building, the whole festival… normal? Was this Yamato’s life now?

Well…

Yamato didn’t fight the smile that spread on his lips at the thought. This was his life now! He could laugh with friends, drink and eat with them, be who he was next to them. No one around to yell at him to just shut up and do what he’s told, no one to laugh at him, no one to tell him to stop being Oden.

No chains on his wrists or soul anymore.

From now on, he was finally free.

[aranock]

Skyen as always is wise in his additions. I really cannot stress enough to the queer youth, to my generation as a gen z myself, We walk on paths tread by those who came before, despite how much the system wishes to erase that. I can really tell how many of you have not had the opportunity to interact with older queer people. Please go look for resources they are all around you. If you want a starting place, Matt Baum’s series on youtube talks about many different elements of queer history over the last 70 years or so, its a good place to begin as they are fun and use the avenue of discussing queer representation in media to branch into conversations about things happening throughout society which interacted with that. Pick a video, find something that interests you and go read further. Or look into local queer history to where you live. Old queer magazine and zine archives are fascinating if you have never taken a look. Yes I know its asking you to actually do something, but seriously it is worth it. If we do not learn from history we are doomed to repeat it.

don't use "ftm" it's outdated and offensive. it implies that the trans person was their agab, which we never were. i was always a boy, never a girl who became a boy.

i'm 35 years old. i've been IDing as trans or something similar to trans for nearly 20 years. i was probably calling myself FTM while you were playing tag during recess, anon.

i WAS a girl. i IDed as a girl early in my life. i recognized myself as a girl, called myself a girl, lived as a girl, and was a girl. who then IDed as a man. hence, F t M.

spend more time worrying about yourself instead of strangers on the internet, anon.

sorry not sorry if this comes off as needlessly hostile, but i've been getting a lot of shit from a lot of teenage trans kids about the language i use to describe my own goddamn experience, and i'm growing real fuckin weary of it.

i have elder trans friends who call themselves transsexuals and transvestites and trannies. are you going to seriously go to a 60-year-old trans person who survived the reagan years and tell her she's not allowed to use certain language to describe herself because it might offend the delicate sensibilities of some teenager on the internet?

do yourself a favor and log off, find some real-life trans people who are over the age of 20 or 25, and spend time talking to them instead of getting all holier-than-thou at random strangers on tumblr.

[sparxwrites]

Not really a question, but I absolutely love how nuanced and thought-out your views and interpretations of characters are. I felt it when I first found your writing through last life, but it’s especially stood out when you talk about c!Dream and c!Quackity. Your recent post and the linked directors commentary especially were so good, I feel like I’ve rarely seen folks who view Dream’s imprisonment and torture as a bad thing without going on to want a redemption for him and the way you explained it all put to words a lot of things I’d been struggling to give form to in my mind. I’d love to read some of the zines you referenced in your directors cut if the names ever come to mind! All this to say your work is incredible and your analysis always makes me think, I’m typically not an avid nsfw or kink fic reader, but your work makes me want to branch out just to experience more of your writing lmao

Thank you! What an incredibly flattering ask to recieve <3 I’m delighted by the response that my DSMP meta especially has had, and especially wrt the bit you picked out - that what has happened to Dream can be wrong, without that in any way minimising or absolving the absolutely heinous shit he’s done, or in any way contributing to a redemption arc. That was a really difficult thing to work out how to phrase; I’m extremely glad I managed to make it coherent, and to give words to stuff that other people have been feeling too.

The zines I mentioned in those are as follows:

what about the rapists? anarchist approaches to crime & justice

The Revolution Starts At Home: Confronting partner abuse in activist communities

They’re both heavy reads, as may be obvious from the title, and challenging in that they a) do not necessarily provide answers, and b) are collections of essays from many different perspectives, with different and often conflicting ideas on how we should try and find answers. But they’re both phenomenal, and (along with the ever-recommended Lundy Bancroft) informed a lot of my thinking about domestic abuse/intimate partner violence and people’s reactions to that (both from inside the abuse and without).

Some of my nsfw stuff is more character-study based (the “Snapshots” duo; perhaps also “all you gotta do, darling”). If you’re considering branching out, I’d start there. They’re arguably the heaviest, and please do check the tags before reading, but the sex/violence in those is because it’s part of a way of looking at bits of the characters - at how they think, how they react, what they do in the face of vulnerability. Some of it (“Unhealthy Compulsions”, “Compromise”) is just because I wanted to write some (occasionally very nasty) smut, and whilst I’d hope it’s still in character and still has interesting things to say about the characters, it’s primarily driven by the sex/kink and so might be less to your taste!

[clearwillow]

For the writing ask: 5, 10, 16, and 20, please and thank!

Hiya @shikonstar ❤

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

Probably major character death, because I'd be afraid it'd be misleading. I've only picked off a "major" character once and bawled writing it, so if I ever had to, it wouldn't be permanent.

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

Friends to lovers, humor, and small towns. I see that last one more in published work but it's still a trope and usually the supporting cast is a hoot XD

16. Are one-shots really underrated?

...are they? 🥺 I usually see more people talk about oneshots they're reading than chaptered fics. I like both equally, because they both serve a purpose ❤

20. Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you?

Yes 🤣

Ok but really, I do jump between projects. Right now, I've got Fever Dream, Mercury's in Gatorade, and a Nailed It Halloween oneshot in the works, while also rereading an old fic to continue to plot in an older fandom. It's...going a bit slow at the moment. I'm juggling more art commissions and zine projects than I calculated (seriously how tf did I pass those state licensure tests 🤣) and I've had to pick one to focus on when I can carve out an hour to write. And right now, it's the Halloween fic. But on a normal day, it helps to rotate so you can step away and see what's hanging things up.

I have a private discord server just for art and writing brainstorming, and I added two more ideas before I fell asleep last night (not IY though so if I ever write them I might not post them idk) So...yeah. if get stuck on one thing, there's plenty more to pick from 🤣

[lnc2]

this time next year

Summary: Marinette is worried about the future. Adrien wants to know where he fits into it.

A/N: This piece was written for the @mlwriterzine and I’m so excited to finally share this with you!  I hope you enjoy it and also go check out the zine because there are so many amazing stories/art pieces collected there.

AO3

The party was well underway by the time Adrien knocked on Nino’s door. Alya was the one who answered, half of her face obscured by gold tin foil pinned to a green beret.

“Speak of the devil,” she grinned, leaning heavily on the door frame.

Adrien bussed her cheek and passed over the bottle of rosé he’d swiped from his father’s wine cellar. “Sorry, Alya. The show ran late. You know how those things go.”

She waved him in, whistling at the bottle in her hands, and shook her head. “Thankfully I don’t. Everyone’s in the living room.”

Adrien followed her into the kitchen instead, eyes straying over the tipsy, crowded apartment. Back against the wall, where Nino’s faded and cracked leather couch usually sat, was a long table covered in gold plastic sheeting. Green and gold hats of various styles were littered across, as well as glitter, rhinestones, netting, feathers, and any other number of crafting materials.

He smiled. “I see you’ve all started without me.”

“Naturally,” Alya said, putting his gift in the fridge to chill. “You’re several drinks behind us now, Agreste. Pick your poison.” She gestured to the half-empty bottles of liquor scattered across the bar.

“No tequila?”

She snorted. “You’ll have to track down Marinette for that one. She ran off with the bottle half an hour ago.”

Something warm filled his chest. “A cup of ice and a lime then.”

“Good luck with that,” Alya said, bumping his shoulder as she passed him the glass. Adrien laughed as he followed her into the living room, his smile widening as he spotted Kagami fussing with the green flowers on her gold newspaper hat.

“I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

Alya batted her hand away. “It’s tradition!”

She pressed her lips together. “It’s archaic.”

“Boo,” a familiar voice called from behind him. Adrien’s heart stuttered as a familiar pair of arms slipped around his waist. “It’s just for fun. No one takes it seriously.”

Adrien thought back to earlier in the evening and Gabriel’s annual Saint Catherine’s Day gala and couldn’t agree. There was a stark difference between the frivolousness and whimsy of Nino’s house party and the staid sobriety of his father’s fashion show.

As if reading his thoughts, Marinette’s eyes sparkled up at him beneath gold netting. “At least no one here.”

“Speak for yourself,” Alya said. She adjusted her hat and threw an accusatory look towards Nino. “Tick tock, babe.”

“You won’t let me propose until you’re out of grad school,” he whined.

Adrien hid his grin as the familiar argument ensued. Instead, he tipped his cup of ice towards the half-empty bottle in Marinette’s hand.

“You’re one of the few people I’d share with,” she said, filling his glass. Adrien leaned down to whisper his gratitude only to be pushed from the other side, causing them to knock heads.

Marinette laughed waving off his apologies with a squeeze to his waist even as their assaulter continued to elbow into the group.

“I’m never getting married,” Alix announced from her position on the back of one of Alya’s coworkers. There was a crown on her head but no decorations. She gestured wildly with her free hand. “Just call me Queen Catherinette.”

“All hail,” Alya said, clinking her wine glass against a reluctant Kagami’s. Her glassy eyes strayed towards Marinette. “What about you, girl? It’s been a while since I’ve heard about Emma, Louis, and Hugo.”

Adrien tried not to sound too interested when he asked, “Who?”

Marinette laughed, her flushed cheeks flushing further. “I’m afraid that future is on hold, Al. I need to find a boyfriend first.”

She removed her arm from around his waist then and Adrien had to restrain himself from pulling her back to his side. Instead, he took a healthy swallow of tequila and let the conversation drift into less turbulent waters.

Now was hardly the time to volunteer his name to the top of her list. 

Adrien could think of two, maybe three very important conversations they needed to have before he could even approach that topic. The most pressing of which weighed heavy on his right hand and sparkled like precious gems on his lady’s ears.

He watched over the rim of his glass as Marinette giggled with the other women in their silly hats. One of them—Alix’s roommate, he thought—burst out with a jubilant, “For pity’s sake, give us a husband!” only for the others to raise their glasses with various tipsy rounds of, “Hear, hear!”

He smiled as Marinette wrestled Kagami’s fidgeting hands away from her hat. It had only been a few weeks since their reveal but Adrien was struggling to see how he could have missed the woman he’d loved for a decade in his dear and wonderful friend.

“Some party, huh?”

Adrien coughed as Nino slapped him on the back just as he was swallowing. Nino laughed at his accusing glare. 

“Sorry man,” he said, grinning. “I thought you heard me coming but I guess you were distracted.”

Adrien ignored the teasing lilt in his friend’s voice.“It’s a good crowd,” he said instead. “I’m sorry I was so late.”

“No worries. Although if everything goes well hopefully this will be the last Saint Catherine’s party we’ll be hosting.”

Adrien laughed. “You think you’ll have worn Alya down by then?”

Nino shrugged. “Fingers crossed. I’ve had this ring burning a hole in my pocket for two months now.”

“Maybe you should be the one wearing the hat.” He grinned, only to receive a rough shove to his shoulder.

“You’re one to talk.”

Adrien pretended not to understand.

“Seriously, dude?” Nino shook his head. “You’re not that slick. If you like her you should just ask her out. I know for a fact she used to have a thing for you.”

And even though Adrien already knew that, even though Marinette told him so several years earlier when her crush was a thing of the past as she’d laughingly put it, hearing his heart’s desire put into words so matter-of-factly did things to him.

Things like make him want to punch a hole in the nearest wall or tear out his hair in frustration.

Because really, how was it fair that the one woman he’d spent years chasing had actually spent several years of her own chasing him right back?

It wasn’t.

Not when Adrien still found himself in the chase and she had apparently just … stopped.

“That was a long time ago, Nino.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

“... Why?” Adrien stared, stomach clenching. “Did she say something? Did Alya say something?” 

His heart raced like hummingbirds wings in his throat as he tried to catch his friend’s gaze. 

Adrien grabbed his shoulder and shook. “Nino.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything.” He laughed, before hiding his smile behind his glass as they caught Alya’s attention across the room. Adrien met her suspicious frown with a wave even as his other hand tightened on Nino’s shoulder. 

“But …?”

“But … I wouldn’t count myself out just yet.”

Adrien’s hand fell to his side as all of his breath rushed out of him. “Oh.”

“Although, that may change if you don’t do something about it. Sooner rather than later if Kim’s roommate is anything to go by.”

Nino nodded towards the corner of the room where Marinette was chatting with a tall brunette. He was leaning towards her, his fingers playing at the edge of the netting on her hat as he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Adrien was already halfway across the room when Nino shouted, “Good luck!”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do to break up their little tete-a-tete but he needn’t have worried. As soon as he was in her line of sight Marinette’s smile lit up like the Eiffel tower and there was little left for him to do other than introduce himself before the interloper tried his luck elsewhere.

“Come outside with me,” she said, tugging his arm. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Your fault,” Adrien said, happy to follow her anywhere. “You canceled patrol.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You know I had to finish up those pieces for your father’s show.”

“At least you weren’t forced to go.”

She laughed and leaned back against the balcony railing. It was cooler than usual tonight as fall slowly gave way to winter and they had the little patio all to themselves. “Perks of being a lowly intern.”

“Please,” he said, bumping her shoulder. “You’ll be a junior designer by next year.”

She hummed, taking a swig of tequila from the bottle only to cough as it hit the back of her throat.

“You can mix that with something you know?”

His lady winced and took another sip, smaller this time. “Who has time for that?”

“You if you’d just slow down.”

It was only half a joke. Lately, even before their Big Reveal, Adrien noticed something changing in Marinette. She was a little less scattered, a little more single-minded. There was almost a frenzied focus about her, like some great fear was nipping at her heels, spurring her forward.

It wasn’t until her timer ran out during an akuma attack that he began to understand why.

“It was ten years this September,” she murmured, turning out to face the cobbled streets below.

Adrien hesitated before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side.

“We’ll get him, bug. I promise.”

“But when, Chat?” She started to lean her head against his shoulder only for her hat to get in the way. Frustrated, she ripped the little masterpiece off her head and crushed it in her hands.

“Stupid holidays aside, I do want a life, Adrien.” She ripped lightly at the netting. “You said I’ll make junior designer by next year? I don’t see how that’s possible when I’m running out of work every other day because someone couldn’t control their emotions.”

Her voice caught on the last word and he was horrified to realize she was crying. “I want to run my own business someday. I want –– I want to fall in love and get married and have babies.” She looked up, teary gaze meeting his. “How can I do anything when I always have one foot out the window waiting for the next catastrophe? Who could put up with that?”

“You’re not someone a person has to put up with, my lady.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Right. Tell that to my exes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because really that’s all he could do.

“Don’t be.” She sniffed, giving him a sad, sad smile. “You can’t do anything about it any more than I can.”

That wasn’t entirely true though.

Adrien turned his attention towards the scrunched up hat in her hands. Marinette followed his gaze and gave a watery laugh.

“I want it all, Adrien,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Do you?” she asked, eyes wide and blue and wet and angry. “Do you really?”

Adrien pulled her to him then, giving her the hug her fears deserved. Marinette clutched at his back, her arms sliding beneath his coat to wrap around his waist, giving as good as she got.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.” 

Tears stung his eyes and words, the right words, stuck in the back of his throat as she gave voice to desires he’d never been brave enough to even dream. Not when Ladybug said no and not when Marinette said not anymore and not when they merged and became everything he’d ever wanted but feared he’d never have.

She wanted it all. 

Adrien closed his eyes and breathed in his lady’s perfume. Freesia and jasmine and something he’d never been able to name. Marinette’s arms loosened around his waist when it seemed like he would pull away, but Adrien only held her tighter.

“I––” He stopped. “You said you don’t want to slow down?”

Marinette nodded.

“Well … how—how would you feel about a chaser?”

She pulled away so she could see his face. “A chaser?” she repeated, frowning.

Adrien bit his lip, feeling heat rushing up his neck and ears. “Ah, yeah,” he said, doing his best to hold her gaze. “Like—like a partner. To your tequila, I mean.”

Adrien watched as confusion gave way to understanding in the form of a perfect little open-mouthed oh. His heart was pounding hard enough he was starting to suspect she could hear it when her eyes glistened up at him beneath the dim porch lights.

God help him but he couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t trust the gentleness in her gaze or the way her body went soft against his or the purse of her lips as she watched him with that pleased little half-smile as realization gave way to something and that something could only be called wonderful as she ducked her head beneath his chin, pressed her lips against the open collar skin of his neck and finally, finally whispered in that small, hopeful impatient way of hers,

“Are you volunteering?”

And even though he knew she knew and even though the question really didn’t require an answer, Adrien tightened his hold on her until they were swaying together chest to chest and repeated the only thing he’d ever wanted to give her.

Yes.

[thewritewolf]

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts

Summary: Adrien and Marinette just finished their school project, but it looks like Adrien will have to stay over longer thanks to a blizzard. With a whole lot of extra time on their hands (not to mention a whole lot of snow), the two of them are in for a snow day they'll never forget.

Hello and welcome to the second of a handful of secret santa fics that I've written for the season! This one is for @gryffindorcls, one of my friends from multiple discords and zines, and a very talented writer herself! She asked for pure adrienette fluff and I aim to please!

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“And…” Adrien’s eyes swiftly moved over the last few slides of their presentation. A smile grew as he reached the end. “Looks like that’s it!”

“Y-yeah,” Marinette replied. “We finished the whole thing.”

She tried not to let either her disappointment or her relief show. Having Adrien over for the last hour had been both the most wonderful and the most stressful thing she’d gone through all week. Adrien! In her room, sitting in one of her chairs! Working on a school project with her! It had done more to get her poor heart racing than the last two akuma battles that week.

Maybe it was for the best that he’d be leaving soon. At least then she could melt into a puddle all by herself, without anyone around to judge her.

Marinette poked a thumb towards the trapdoor.

“Head downstairs, want to?” Marinette screamed on the inside, but Adrien didn’t seem to mind.

“Sure! We can hang out for a little while until the gorilla picks me up.”

Breathing a sigh of relief that just so happened to give her a good smell of his cologne, Marinette followed after him. When they got to the bottom, Adrien stepped into the kitchen to call home, and Marinette walked into the living room to give him space.

Which is when she noticed that the view from outside their window was a lot more white than she remembered it being when they left school that day. Sure, it had been pretty chilly as they crossed the street to her house, but…

Paris was covered in a fresh white sheet of snow and it showed no signs of slowing down. Just as she was marveling at the scenery and thinking that she was glad that she didn’t have to go anywhere, Adrien walked into the room. He had a sheepish smile on his face and was rubbing the back of his neck.

“Looks like the Gorilla can’t pick me up since the roads are going to be closed for a while. I guess I’m stuck here… if you don’t mind me hanging out for a little while longer?”

“Of course, son!” Marinette jumped as her dad appeared out of nowhere. Had he been in the living room the whole time and she just hadn’t noticed, lost in an Adrien-induced haze? “You can even stay the night if you need too!”

“Careful,” Adrien warned with a half smile. “I might have to take you up on that offer.”

“And it’d be our pleasure if you did. Oh!” Her dad’s eyes widened. “This would be the perfect time for some fresh baked cookies! I’ll get right on that.” He disappeared around the corner, but after a moment popped his head back into the room. “Make sure to entertain our guest, sweetie!”

Marinette stared at the doorway for a long moment and swallowed before prying her gaze toward Adrien. He was staring blissfully at her, an undisturbed smile on his face.

“S-sorry about all this.” She took a seat on the couch. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than be stuck here all day.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Adrien replied. Was it just her or did he sit a little closer than he needed to? “I’m sure father will be disappointed, but I’m definitely not.” He leaned in slightly with a smile and exaggerated wink. “Promise.”

There was a long period of silence, listening to the snow falling outside and the gentle wind carrying it. Marinette couldn’t find any topics of conversation at all, reduced to just staring at her hands in her lap and screaming at herself to talk, to say something. But eventually, it was Adrien that spoke up first.

“Does your dad usually make cookies during blizzards?”

“Huh?” She blinked before recognition hit. “Oh! Yeah, it’s something we used to do a lot when I was younger. You know,” she ticked off each point on her hand, “we baked cookies, watched movies. Usually after we’d go out and made snowmen.”

“I wish we’d done that growing up.” There was a sad tinge to Adrien’s smile.

“What, make cookies? D-don’t worry! You’ll get some.”

“No, no.” Adrien shook his head. “Make snowmen. Or play outside in the snow at all, really.”

“Seriously?” Marinette’s jaw dropped and she forgot her nervousness as she turned to look at him. “Not one snowman? Or a snowball fight? Even just… making a snow angel or something?”

Adrien shook his head solemnly. “None of it. Father was always busy and mom… well, she had always been in poor health for as long as I could remember. It got worse later, but…” He cleared his throat and looked out the window. “...so, um, yeah. None of that for me.”

Clenching her fists at her side, Marinette suddenly stood up and stomped to the front door, ignoring Adrien calling out to her. Opening it slightly, she reached out a hand and grabbed some of the snow. She nodded to herself as she packed it nicely into a ball before dropping it again.

“What was-”

“We’re going outside, maman!” Marinette shouted down the hall.

“Where are you heading?” Maman answered back.

“Over to the park. We’re going to have fun in the snow while it lasts.”

Her mom stepped out of the bedroom, eyebrows furrowed. “Sure, dear, just… make sure to bundle up, okay?”

“We will!”

After watching her put on several extra layers, Adrien followed her lead. By the time they were ready to leave, they were wrapped in gloves, double jackets, warm sweaters, boots, and hats. They were about as warm and snug as they could be. Or, at least Marinette was. She just hoped that Adrien’s stylish Agreste-brand winter clothes were actually functional as well as fashionable. If they weren’t, then she was going to be having words with Gabriel.

Thankfully her fears proved unfounded when they stepped outside and Adrien barely flinched at the cold. Gabriel would go without being chastised… for now.

The two of them went out- but not like on a date, Marinette quickly mentally corrected herself, her heart skipping a beat. Went out to the park- went outside, she should say.

Taking a deep breath of cold air to cool herself down, she tried to focus on the task at hand. They had just finished trudging across the street and had made it to the park. It seemed like the cold and ongoing snowfall had scared off most people. It probably would have made her stay home too - Marinette really didn’t like the cold - but knowing she could just cross the street to get back to the warmth of home gave her extra courage.

Well, that and she was on a mission. How could she let something as small as freezing temperatures and snow get in the way of making sure her friend had fun? She held onto that thought as a way to keep her warm despite the chill.

“I think this will be a good spot to get started,” Marinette said, stopping in the middle of an open space. Some snow had already started to pile up against a wall, a perfect place to begin.

“I’ll take your word for it!” Adrien said with a smile partially concealed by his blue scarf. The same one she’d made for him. Realization made her heart flutter, but she quickly stamped down on it.

No! No getting flustered! Serious business here.

“Right, so.” Marinette cleared her throat and crouched down to get started. Adrien hurriedly did the same and their heads almost collided. After shooting him a nervous smile, she swallowed and tried to get back on track. “So we start by rolling a little snow into a ball, right?”

“Okay…” Adrien watched her with rapt attention as she scooped up some snow and pacted it in her hands. “...I feel like this might take a while if you’re doing it by hand?”

“Be patient, we’ll get there,” Marinette chidded with a smirk. She packed the snow a little more and nodded to herself. “There!”

“Is that-” He cut himself off with a gasp when she dropped the snowball to the ground. His eyes widened when she started pushing it along the ground and it started growing exponentially in size. “Ohhh!”

“See? It's not all that hard.” She finished pushing it, ending up with a ball of snow about waist high. “Now you try!”

He bobbed his head and scooped up some snow before pushing it around on the ground, Staying crouched, he followed it around with quick, shuffling steps that left him practically doubled over. She couldn’t help but let out a giggle at the scene. Giggling which turned into full blown laughter when he noticed it was a little lopsided and overcompensated, ending up with a lumpy mess of a ball.

Lumpy or not, his eyes sparkled with joy when he picked it up and sat it on top of the other one. She barely even needed to help him with it - mostly just holding it in place while he kept it from falling off. Now the snowman stood at about chest height to the two of them.

“One more of those and you’ll never be able to say that you haven’t made a snowman before.”

She bumped his shoulder with her fist and winced internally. Was that too familiar? Was she moving too fast with the shoulder bump? He didn’t seem to mind as he immediately got to work making the snowman’s head, humming something that sounded Christmasy to himself.

“Aren’t we missing something?” Adrien was crossing his arms in front of the completed snowman, which now loomed head and shoulders over them.

“Like w-what?”

“Arms… coal and a carrot for the face.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish after saying it out loud. “Maybe, um... a scarf or hat?”

“I, uh, I don’t really want to mess up one of my pieces for the sake of a snowman.” She figeted with her mitten-covered hands and gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry!”

“Oh! No, I’m sorry I didn’t even think about that.” Shooting her a half smile, he mumbled out, “And I doubt anyone just has coal lying around, so…” He looked at the snowman and hummed thoughtfully. His eyes flew open wide and he grabbed her by the shoulders.  “Wait, I just had a great idea!”

Marinette made a noise that made have been ‘huh’, but which came out more like, “Hrnk?”

“We should have a snowman making competition! We’ll do maybe like an hour and then see who won!”

The word competition stirred something up in Marinette that was very, very nearly stronger than the stammering and shyness that always gripped her whenever Adrien was around. At her heart, Marinette loved a good contest, loved showing off the best she could do.

But against Adrien? Who had only just started making snowmen?

“I don’t-”

“Ready set go!” Adrien shouted before sprinting off to a different part of the park, looking more animated than she had ever really seen him. Gone was the reserved politeness that he usually carried on him like a coat. Now… he was just a kid having a great time.

Something about the giddy look on his face and the way he ran reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite place it.  Especially not when she realized he had a whole ten second lead on her now. Her eyes widened and she dashed off to her own side of the park and got to work, putting all other thoughts aside.

How well had he picked up the art of snowman building? Should she hold back or go full force? She shook her head. No way was she going to pull a punch - if anyone was going to challenge her, then they were going to get her at her best. Even if that person is Adrien.

Her hand twitched as her heartbeat sped up at just thinking his name, very nearly maring the perfect smooth sphere she’d made for the base of her first snowman. She gently tapped her head and focused, doing her best to just get lost in the act of creation.

Of course, that didn’t last all too long since making a snowman wasn’t exactly time consuming. But as she looked at the three snowballs placed on top of each other, she thought back to what Adrien had said. Maybe there was something she could add - or, better yet, put some of those sculpting lessons they’d started in art class to good use. How different could snow and clay be, right?

There was a few fumbling steps, but she managed to turn the three spheres into something almost like… well, her. Her as Ladybug, that is. As least as well as it could be turned into her on her first try. The pigtails were there and she’d lightly carved out a furrow where her mask and spots would be.

After that, her next snowman seemed to be a given. She especially had fun making the pair of triangle cat ears and hunting down a stick that could work as his tail. Not to mention giving Chat Blanc- she winced and thought up a different name. She gave Snow Chat the tiny fangs that she always wished that he had.

She had managed to just finish a Rena Blanc and… Frozopace? Winter Carapace? Alya and Nino’s super snow alter egos. Both of them were finished just in time for Adrien to yell over the whistling wind that their time was up.

Marinette put a few final touches on them before putting her hands on her hips, beaming at how well they’d turned out.

“Oh wow! Those are really neat,” came a voice right at her shoulder.

“Gah!” Marinette jumped and nearly lost her footing in the snow that had been packed by her own pacing. Thankfully, Adrien caught her elbow and steadied her. “O-oh, th-thanks!”

Adrien’s brow furrowed. “Are you getting cold? You sound like you’re shivering.”

“N-no, I’m fine!” She held up her hands to assure him.

“Okay… well, anyway, these are pretty cool!” Adrien smirked and turned back to the set she’d made, spaced out a few meters from each other. That… couldn’t have been a pun, right? Sure, he’d said some before, but he never seemed this proud of them before. He was walking around the four and paused to look especially hard at Chat Noir. “I didn’t know you were such a big fan of Paris’s superheroes! You really got their details down.”

Marinette smiled. “Thanks, Adrien.”

“So,” Adrien said, turning back to her. “Where are the other snowmen?”

“...Others?”

“Well yeah! It was a competition to make a bunch, right?”

Marinette blinked. “...What?”

“Yeah!” He started jogging toward where he had been working. “Come on, look how many I made!”

A little confused, Marinette followed him to a big field of thrown-together snowmen. There had to have been at least two dozen of them. They came in all sizes, ranging from as big as the one they’d made together to cat-sized ones made of two snowballs. Speaking of cats - almost all of them had cat ears. It was practically their only unifying quality, but that was more because they were slapped together so haphazardly that each of them had ended up looking uniquely lumpy.

Adrien proudly stood among them, hands on his hips and beaming so wide that she could see his smile even with the scarf over his mouth.

“So that means I win, right?” Adrien watched her with that radiant grin, completely unaware of how much it needled her to hear him say that. “Since I’ve got so many more snowmen than you and all that?”

“That’s- but-” Marinette took a calming breath. “Shouldn’t quality come into this? Not that yours aren’t good!” She added hastily, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “But I made four really good snowmen, right? That has to be worth something.”

“Maybe, but look at their faces.” Adrien put his face next to one of his snow catboys and pouted. “Surely they’re as good as the heroes of Paris?”

Marinette wasn’t sure how long they argued the point, neither side willing to concede defeat. Even if it was clear from Marinette’s perspective that she had unquestionably won this match.

Looking back, she couldn’t quite remember the comment that had set her off, but she could definitely recall how she vented her frustration.

Her heart sank as she watched, frozen in her throwing position, as Adrien - the love of her life - wiped a heap of snow off of his face. A face which had watched in innocent curiosity as she had picked up and packed into a ball the very snow that he was wiping off right now.

Her hands flew to her mouth as her blush spread across her entire face. What had she been thinking? Just because they were bantering with each other and he was irritating her didn’t mean she could just act like he was Chat Noir or something. Moving from covering her mouth to her eyes, she rapidly shook her head and tried to apologize.

“I- I’m sorry, Adrien! I don’t know what- I didn’t-”

Her stammering was cut off when something smacked into her sternum. She blinked and took her hands off her face to look down, noticing the snow that was even now falling off her white jacket. Still processing that, she look up at Adrien just in time to see him packing another snowball. His scarf had been lowered from his mouth to his neck, letting her see the huge, excited grin that had spread across his face.

With wild eyes, he looked up at her and said, “Only one way to find out the winner now!” He tossed the snowball at her, but she managed to duck aside and it went wide. By the time she looked back, he’d taken cover behind his snow catboys and shouted, “SNOWBALL FIGHT!”

Before long the air was being filled with thrown snow. Most of the time they were just thrown without aiming, just enough to keep the other person’s head down behind their snowmen. As her snow alter ego that she was hiding behind was being pelted with snowballs, Marinette took the time to make an armful of ammunition before sneaking around the hill and into the Catboy Fields.

Thanks to her white jacket and the falling snow, Adrien was still blindly letting loose against her four heroes, completely unaware that she was setting up base to his side.

He was mid throw when he finally noticed her, but by then she’d leapt out of cover and was pelting his side with snow balls. He fled his position, laughing all the while as she gave chase. Unfortunately, his catboys really were numerous and before long she lost him. She tossed the last of her snowballs towards where he’d disappeared to and made a couple more before slowly stalking through the cat-ear’d horde.

The wind swirled the snowflakes in the air. She narrowed her eyes. Where was he?

She got her answer just a moment later when she heard a very, very familiar battlecry.

“CATACLYSM!”

Her world suddenly became very cold and very white as a snowman sized snowball was slam dunked on her. Between the shock that Chat Noir had apparently shown up and the force behind the snow boulder, she slipped and nearly fell. Thankfully, someone caught her wrists and pulled her up.

“Sorry, Marinette! I guess I got a little carried away there.”

Adrien took a hand  - but only one - off her wrists and rubbed the back of his neck, a small but genuine smile on his lips as he looked away. There was barely any space between them and Marinette was feeling much, much warmer than she was just a second ago. Adrien didn’t seem to notice - both her distress, and just how close they were.

There was a sudden clarity as she stared at him, like seeing the sun poke out between storm clouds. How could she have never noticed it before?

Putting on her slyest smile, she replied, “Oh, you’re fine. Remember how cold it was when we took on Frozer? Now that was chilly.”

Adrien chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it-”

His eyes widened and he stared down at her, slack jawed.

“But that means- but you can’t-” He put his fingers on his chin, still not breaking eye contact with her. “But you definitely could-” He swallowed heavily and asked in a reverent whisper, “...My lady?”

Her heart nearly exploded at hearing those words come from Adrien’s mouth - but then again, she already had heard them before, hadn’t she? Over and over and over again.

“Chaton...” She raised her mitten-covered hand and cupped his chin.

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

Half an hour later, they were back inside. They’d peeled off their winter gear and thrown it haphazardly into a pile in her room and replaced them with a nice, warm blanket that they shared as they sat cuddled together on the couch.

Marinette closed her eyes as she rested her head against Adrien’s shoulder, hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. But it wasn’t the blanket or the drink or the body heat that was keeping the chill at bay.

As Paris was blanketed in snow and cold, love kept Marinette and Adrien warm.

[xenotwink]

Okay, well, I’m jealous of your job, but whatever, it’s fine, whatever. It sounds kind of fun, and like you get to learn things, and the actually helping people aspect is nice. Seriously, though, anytime you wanna talk about b0nes, talk about b0nes, bc I wanna hear lmao.

I understand having triggers and asking for warnings, but there’s a total difference between going off on someone for not doing so/ not knowing and someone who’s actually just… trying to live their life without impeding on yours? I’m of the opinion we shouldn’t be dicks to people unless they’re genuinely being dicks to us. What’s that quote? Why assume malice when ignorance suffices, or something? Sorry that things went downhill for a while, glad they’re better now though. And that you seem to have supportive friends ‘n stuff.

@ CEDF charity folks- Making a zine with content you enjoy is totally not a problem! I’m glad y’all have managed to raise a sum of money for a good cause. The issue, with me personally, anyway, was that I was confused when I read the description. As Blue said, pin-up art is, and always has been, a tool for horny people, lol. So saying it’s Safe For Work while labeling it pin-up feels contradictory. That makes it difficult for me especially because I am ace, and I kinda don’t want nudies cause it’s not my jive, but seeing non-explicit was like, “It’s not nude people, but pin-up suggests they’re being… suggestive,” lmao. So, even though I like Chiss and fanart in general, I’m not sure how to decipher where my comfort level with the zine would even be. Personally, I won’t be making a purchase, but it makes me happy to hear you have made something you are proud of.

Chanukah. Hanukkiss. Idk, neither of those are great lmao, but Christmas stuff all the time in December just kinda. Sucks, Ig. Not trying to put anyone who likes it down, and I have friends who think it’s like, the biggest good thing ever, and I’m happy people get happy because of it, but. Yeah.

Omg Blue’s Ascendancy Info Zine? Yes please! I’d actually love that. And I think you’re right about the Tatooine thing, but where the hell did that info come from?

How was your day? And yours, @💚💙?

Love my Big Blue Brain group. 😘💙

-💙📘🖋

It’s such a cool job and I’m so sorry everyone that your job isn’t as cool and that mine is absolutely the coolest. I will talk about it so much don’t worry!

I think people were prepared to be assholes after I renamed the server from “Thrawn fans” to “queer Thrawn fans”. I’m not gonna ask people their triggers? No way. And if someone says something you should like message a mod (me) about it, not flip the fuck out and tell me that you were On Watch for a person all night because it triggered them? Like there’s more than one thing going on there. But don’t take it out on me, the person trying their best. I have receipts but I’m not gonna drop them because I don’t really care.

You put that perfectly with the charity zine. My only other thing with that is are there gonna be female-presenting nipples or no? If you draw Thrawn with his nips out, you should draw Ar’alani with Her Nips Out. So it kinda doesn’t really work for ace people and horny people because of expectations. That’s all. We’re allowed to discuss this. You don’t have to at me and be a dick about it.

Haunakiss is pretty good but. Like there’s other religions. Stop! You’re subjecting us all to it and for some people it Especially Sucks because persecution. I’m not Jewish but all my friends are so. I’m an ally in the most honest way.

I think they teased it on one of the recent movies but then didn’t run with it. Csilla and Chiss Climate Change Zine? Something.

So far, my day has been great!

Big blue brain group ftw

[likes-words-and-shrimp]

Just some thoughts for myself on fic I want to write soon and other stuff in general.

- I have an upcoming third chapter for my wolf Lloyd fic that I might update sometime this month. It's nice to just go back to fun AUs and update them whenever. I have too many colloyd AUs that I keep jumping from one to another lol

- Still need to work on fourth chapter for my Deltarune Spamton fic. I planned on replaying the game just to get a refresher and also I didn't fight Spamton myself and I would like to. I need to experience his weirdness again. Plus it's fun writing Sans again I missed him.

- Other Deltarune ideas; Spamton and Jevil interaction, or fic exploring more of Noelle's friendship with Kris. I'd like to write short stuff for Deltarune while working on this long one.

- Also since I beat Tales of Arise, I'd like to write something with Law and Rinwell. Law was fun to play as, and Rinwell had a really compelling backstory. Though if I had to pick a fave I think it's Kisara 'women want me, fish fear me' lol.

- Also I need to read fic again and just make a list of those I planned to read and haven't yet. By the way, please read Hotel Wario by the gf it's very good and will make you want to eat lots of spaghetti like seriously. (This is a good thing).

- I applied to be a writer for the Tales fanzine! Not sure if I'll get in (here’s hoping though!) as there's a lot of great Tales writers out there but I'm glad that 10 writer slots are available. I'm always happy for zines that let writers share their work alongside artists.

- Also I am excited for Crestoria again because Lloyd and Colette might come back to the main story and I am...waiting patiently... Please give me my faves as soon as possible.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the ‘A lost Ballroom of gold’ rarepair zine! I had to write sylvixgrid and I wanted to lean into that masquerade feel. This is utterly self indulgent.

…

…

…

…

Ingrid softly sighed as she looked around the ballroom. Dozens of couples waltzed around the dance floor, each pair magically gliding past each other without so much as a bumped elbow. As A minor noble’s daughter, there were many perks to her family’s status: there weren’t as many functions she had to attend, her father allowed her free reign to hunt and ride on their lands in the attire of her choice, and society’s expectations for her were low.

 Unfortunately, that was only when Fódlan’s was out of season. Now that the balls had finally started, her father had packed her off and sent her to the capital. The season really just meant ‘husband hunting’, as her friend Dorothea had put it. While Ingrid understood the importance of climbing up the social ladder, of marrying a more powerful family in order to help her own, she hated it with every fiber of her being.

 It also didn’t help that she was terrible at courtship. She had two left feet, walked in a masculine fashion, and the only good thing about her was that if she kept quiet, she could perhaps pass for a gentle lady. Rubbing her arm, she tried not to glare. Ingrid couldn’t scare away everyone, after all.

 “Careful, your face might freeze like that,” a man to her right teased.

 “What—” Ingrid snapped, cutting herself off when she realized her childhood friend stood next to her. “Sylvain!”

 The redhead grinned mischievously. “That’s the name, don’t wear it out!” Hands in his jacket pockets, he leaned forward to take her all in. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious in her pale green ball gown.

“What?” she asked, resisting the urge to tug on her long hair nervously.

 With a wolfish grin, he whistled. “Wow, Ingrid, you look gorgeous. How’d they get you in that?”

 Immediately, she wanted to elbow him. His flirting came to him as easily as breathing; she should have expected that by now. Still, her ears warmed at the compliment. “Sylvain, please tell me you haven’t said that to every woman in the room. I can’t save you if you’re attacked later.”

 “Don’t worry, the idiot hasn’t talked to anyone yet,” Felix cut in.

 Ingrid blinked, surprised. Leaning forward, she found her other childhood friend on Sylvain’s other side. The two were dressed in similar suits, with small differences such as tie colours and buttons matching their families’ crests and coat of arms.

 It was odd. The season had started a few weeks ago, and while she’d only attended a few events since, she’d seen and heard Sylvain flitting about them. Felix, on the other hand, she’d barely heard a word about and she’d almost thought he’d stayed behind in his estate. “Felix? I thought you didn’t like balls.”

 “I don’t,” he replied flatly. His posture was stiff as he looked around the ballroom, his perpetual scowl scaring away anyone who’d come near.

 Well, if Ingrid didn’t find a partner tonight, she could blame Felix for it at least.

 “Why do you two always gang up on me?” Sylvain pouted, his cheeks puffing slightly. He’d always had a childish streak. It was cute at times like these, when she wasn’t cleaning up after him. “Felix, you think she’s pretty too, right?”

 Felix made a strangled sound before directing his glare at Sylvain. Despite her best efforts, Ingrid still felt a pang of pain; she’d long known that the extent of his affections was a bare tolerance. Anything more was pushing him. Before he could say something she couldn’t unhear, she stepped on Sylvain’s foot. “Don’t drag Felix into your jokes.”

 Felix looked at her, his expression unreadable.

 “I wasn’t, but fine, fine, I give.” Sylvain sighed, his handsome features twisting into a frown. “Anyways, been here long, Ingrid?”

 “Not really.” She rubbed her wrist, remembering the journey over. “My carriage’s wheel needed to be fixed, so I arrived late. I could have just ridden here instead, with the time it took.”

 “That sounds just like you.” Sylvain laughed. Leaning closer, he waggled his brows, already over his sulking. “So you haven’t danced with anyone yet?”

 “No,” Ingrid replied slowly, stiffening. There was something inherently untrustworthy when Sylvain asked that many questions in a row. Even more so when her response caused him to sigh with relief and Felix to visibly relax.

 Whenever the both of them agreed to something, there was trouble brewing. She’d never understood how Sylvain managed to drag her, Felix, or even the king’s son, Dimitri, into any of his nefarious plots, but then again, she’d never met anyone with a silver tongue like his. He’d even charmed her grandmother!

 “Why are you asking?” she asked, stepping out slightly so she could glare at both of them.

 “Nothing, nothing!” Sylvain walked closer, blocking Felix from her view. Felix had always been the worse liar. “Can’t a friend ask questions anymore?”

 “Not when the friend is you.” She pursed her lips, trying to read his expression.

 “Am I really that untrustworthy?”  His smile didn’t drop a notch, his eyes crinkling with amusement. Without waiting for her to respond, he held out a hand. “Well, since you haven’t had a chance yet, could I claim your first dance?”

 “Huh?” That wasn’t the response she’d expected. Flabbergasted, she stared at his hand. “Me?”

 “Who else?” he winked playfully.

 “But…but…” Incredulous, Ingrid spluttered as she tried to make sense of it all. She couldn’t tell if this was one of Sylvain’s japes, or if he was earnest. And even if he were earnest, this wasn’t one of their family functions; the dances here were for a singular purpose for them.

 “Let’s get in before the song starts.” He gently grabbed her hand before she could reply and quickly guided her to the dance floor. When she hadn’t been paying attention, the last waltz had ended and a new one had started. Couples swapped on the floor, pairs exchanging partners as they tried to find a suitable spouse.

 And now, in the midst of it all, she stood with Sylvain. His arm hooked around her waist, pulling her almost flush against him. His other hand slipping into her right, cupping it carefully. Her skin burned from the impropriety of it all, but this was the waltz. They were supposed to be this close. Sylvain’s breath was supposed to warm her ear, his long hair was supposed to mingle with hers if she turned her head just so, and no one would think this was shocking.

 Unless they realized it was Ingrid he was dancing with, and not one of his many, many dancing partners. God, she hoped no one recognized her, she couldn’t handle the gossip after.

 “Shall we?” he asked, cocking his head slightly, green eyes bright with merriment.

 It was impossible to resist those eyes. Gingerly, she rested her hand on his shoulder and nodded, not trusting her voice. Luckily, the music started immediately after and they slowly glided through the ballroom in time with everyone else. Ingrid had never been a good dancer—she could handle the movements just fine, but she lacked the grace to make them look good. Sylvian never had that problem and in his arms, she felt comfortable with the moves for once. It was like she’d finally learned to read or solved a difficult problem.

 “Having fun?” Sylvain asked quietly.

 She hadn’t realized she was smiling. “Yeah. I didn’t realize dancing could be so” Fun. “Easy.”

 “That’s because you always overthink things.” He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “You and Felix are both the stiffest dancers I’ve ever seen.”

 “Well, sorry for that,” she huffed. “Why don’t you dance with someone more graceful next round?”

 “Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing!” Sylvain protested, dipping her slightly before pulling her back. “I find it cute.”

 Ingrid fixed him with a flat stare. “Cute.”

 “Yes, very cute.” Sylvain chuckled. “Your expression is so serious when you try to dance, and Felix’s is so determined to beat his partner. It’s like you’re both fighting a war. There’s just something really cute about how terrible you both are.”

 “I’m not trying to be cute,” she grumbled automatically, though her mind was awhirl from what he’d just said. She’d had her suspicions over the years, but this was the second time he’d brought up Felix. Maybe she hadn’t been imagining things after all.

 “Which makes it all the cuter.” Sylvain grinned as he squeezed her hand. “Man, I’m glad you finally debuted. The season’s was too long last year. I really missed you.”

 If he hadn’t taken the lead, Ingrid would have frozen in place. Sylvain was a consummate flirt, something that was easy to forget in face of how goofy he was. These lines just rolled off his tongue naturally. They didn’t mean anything. He’d said them to dozens of girls, some she’d had to console after.

 Her skin heated up anyways.

 “Sylvain.” She frowned, looking up at him. “I know you act like this to every girl you meet, but you shouldn’t be telling people you have no intention of courting that they are cute or that you miss them or well, flirt with them.”

 He didn’t look the least bit contrite or chastened as he locked eyes with her. “What makes you think I have no intention?”

 The implication wasn’t lost to her. Incredulous, she studied his face once more, looking for some sign that this was another jest of his, that this was out of pity or something akin. “Sylvain, you’re supposed to take this seriously,” she hissed, lowering her voice.

 “I am taking this very seriously,” he replied. For once, there was none of his charm in his voice, none of his light-hearted teasing. His green eyes bore into hers and she swallowed. The music stopped. Before she could get her bearings, he leaned close, his lips brushing her ear and sending a shiver down her spine. “I meant every word.”

 Then he stepped away, bowing slightly, his usual teasing smile in place as he headed to the side of the room. She could only stare at his back, her blush spreading down her neck. How was she supposed to take that? React to that?

 Someone behind her coughed, and Ingrid realized she was still on the dance floor. The next song would start soon. “Sorry,” she mumbled, turning around. “I—”

 Her apology caught in her throat as she found Felix stiffly standing behind her, his hand out. “Next dance is mine.”

 Felix looked utterly uncomfortable about the whole thing and Ingrid bit back a sigh. “I can guess why Sylvain did it, but you don’t have to copy him. I don’t need your pity too.”

 He snorted. “Like I would do this out of pity.”

 Well, she couldn’t deny he had a point there. Ingrid couldn’t remember the last time anyone had forced Felix to do something he didn’t want to. Even his father had a hard time reigning him. Puzzled, she bit her lip. “Then why are you here? You don’t like dancing. You don’t like the attention. You can barely tolerate me. What do you get out of this?”

 He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “The dance is about to start.”

 “That isn’t an answer,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes as she took his hand. However infuriating he was, dancing with him was still better than dancing with yet another unknown suitor.

 Felix’s hands were surprisingly gently as he slipped into position, his right hand featherlight as it settled on her waist. His other hand clasped hers delicately, like she was china and easily breakable.

 “You can hold on a little tighter. You know I don’t bruise that easily.” Ingrid clicked her teeth disapprovingly, resting her left hand on his shoulder as she stepped closer. “We can’t dance if I’m that far.”

 He didn’t say anything, not even his usual scoff, as his fingers dug into her side a little firmer. When she peeked up, she found his ears a soft pink, jaw clenched. Normally she’d think of it as his usual annoyed look, but now she reconsidered. Felix seemed more embarrassed than irritated. Ingrid giggled softly. Even when they were kids, he’d always strived for perfection; it must bother him that in this one arena he couldn’t quite reach it.

 “Why are you laughing?” he asked as he took the lead.

 “Nothing,” she lied, hiding her smile. Knowing how he’d take it, it was better not to say anything at all.

 He harrumphed but didn’t press. This dance wasn’t quite as easy as her last. Felix was steady, for sure, and mostly smooth, but he lacked that innate grace that Sylvain had. Then again, she wasn’t much better herself, and she felt at ease as she kept up with him. They were equally uncomfortable on the dance floor, and there was something oddly reassuring about that.

 From the corner of her eye, she studied him. Standing under the bright candelabras, he cut a dashing figure. A classical handsome, with his well-cut jaw and stern expression. Sylvain had always been the preferred one, but she’d still heard ladies tittering for Felix, not realizing just how sharp a tongue he had.

 Or how carefully he hid his soft spots. Like this dance. Ingrid scanned the wall as they danced, trying to find their misguided friend. “I’m sure Sylvain pushed you into this, but thanks anyways.”

 “Sylvain didn’t push me.”

 His response was blunt, to the point, and Ingrid tore her eyes back to him, flabbergasted. “Huh?”

 Felix’s eyes were dark, burning, as they met hers. She’d seen this gaze directed at Sylvain before, but now that it was on her, she was surprised by the intensity. “Why do you think I can barely tolerate you?”

 “I…” It was a little hard to think and she studied his shoulder. “I’ve known you for years. After Glen—”

 At the mention of his dead brother, of her ex-fiancé, his grip tightened. Even now, he hardened when Glen’s name was brought up. “That was years ago.”

 Oddly enough, his voice was tempered for once. She’d expected his usual harsh outburst, but today he had reigned in his emotions enough for them to actually talk. “It was also a rejection,” she replied carefully. “Not just of the engagement, but of me.”

 Ingrid hadn’t expected him to take on his brother’s engagement after; he had always chafed against his father’s expectations. But he had been unnecessarily cruel when he had. With time and distance, she could see it for what it was: a boy in pain lashing out. Yet they had never properly talked about it and it was ironic that out here, as they swayed and spun in time with a dozen strangers, that they were having the most honest conversation they’d had in years.

 “We haven’t been the same since then,” she added, lowering her eyes.

 Felix fell silent and she wondered if he hadn’t noticed the gap between them. Sylvain had always filled it; ever since he’d pulled her out of her depression, dragged Felix out of his rage, he’d always done that. They’d had a handful of times when it’d been just the two of them after, and it had always been an awkward dance of figuring out where they stood with one another.

 Letting go of his shoulder, she twirled once before he pulled her back into his arms. Quietly, he muttered, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

 She had to strain to hear his response; he wouldn’t repeat this, she knew. It was as close to an apology as Felix could get, and something in her unclenched. Clearing her throat, she offered a lopsided smile. “It’s fine. Like you said, it was years ago.”

 “Anything else?” he asked, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her.

 It took her a moment to remember what he was talking about. “Well, there’s…”

 Ingrid frowned, parsing through her memories. What else was there? Felix had a sharp tongue, it was true, and they’d gotten into more than a few fights over it, but that was the case with everyone. While he had never sought her company, it was almost impossible to imagine him asking for anyone either.

 And even when she’d barged in, uninvited, he had never turned her away either. Even at his grumpiest, he’d listen to her rant about Sylvain and his pilfering ways.

 “You…” She bit her cheek, trying to figure out why she’d felt that way. Grasping for straws, Ingrid mumbled, “You’re softer with Sylvain.”

 Felix snorted. “You’re the same.”

 Ingrid couldn’t deny that. “Then…” She had nothing else. Had she spent years misreading their interactions, all because she couldn’t let go of the past? Embarrassed, she stared at his shoulder. “I was wrong.”

 She expected a smirk, an insult, anything but the soft chuckle he gave. Surprised, she looked up at him only to find his usual exasperated expression was more fond than annoyed. Felix brought them to a halt, bowing slightly as he let go of her hand.

 As he left her not only with more questions, but the strangest sensation in the pit of her stomach.

 “Fe—” Before she could take a step forward, broad shoulders blocked her sight and Ingrid looked up to find Sylvain grinning at her once more.

 “Can I have the next dance?”

 -x-

 For all her intelligence, Ingrid knew she could be dense on some matters. However, after swapping between her friends yet again, even she could figure out what their plans were. Or, at least what part of their plans were—their conversations left her confused and flushed in ways she couldn’t understand.

 Still, that could possibly be chalked up to the fact that she had done four dances in a row. For a woman that hated her heels, that was four too many. It was time to end this game. The second the song ended, Ingrid grabbed Felix’s hand before he could disappear. Pivoting immediately, she found a surprised Sylvain already waiting in the wings.

 “We’re going to talk,” she ground out, snatching his hand as well. The nobles would titter about this, no doubt. It was highly improper to act the way she did, but she was tired of the questions, the confusion, and, most importantly, the dancing.

 They’re almost too compliant as she drags them to a secluded balcony. Ingrid had never known Felix to agree to anything in his life. All but shoving them out into the cool, night air, she hastily loosened the curtains on the doors before closing them behind her. It was the most privacy they could get, unless she forced them further into the gardens.

 Sylvain and Felix stood in the middle of the balcony, watching her expectantly. There was a single candelabra outside, giving just enough light that she could make out their expressions. Sylvain’s looked apprehensive, while Felix’s was more bored. Her heels clacked against the marble as she approached them, coming to a stop just in front of the two. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 Felix snorted. “Told you we couldn’t keep it from her.”

 “I know, I know.” Sylvain sighed, running a hand through his fiery mane. “I thought we’d have a little longer.”

 Triumphant at this admission, she crossed her arms. “I knew it. Is this some sort of game.”

 “Game?” Sylvain laughed, shaking his head. “No, no, we’re just keeping the others from dancing with you.”

 That wasn’t a response she’d expected. Or, well, maybe from Sylvain, but not Felix as well. Confused, she glanced from one to the other. “What? Why?”

 Felix regarded her coolly. “Why do you think?”

 She didn’t really have an answer to that. Turning it over in her mind, she hazarded a guess. “You remembered how I complained about my father? I’m grateful, truly, but—”

 The words died in her throat when Felix frowned, shooting her a derisive look. She’d guessed wrong. Even Sylvain sighed, pinching his nose. “How are you so sharp in everything else, but get this wrong?”

 “Are you calling me an idiot?” Ingrid retorted hotly, flushing. She had known these two for years now, how was she having such a hard time reading them tonight?

 Felix shrugged. “You are one,” he stated simply.

 “Your denseness is adorable,” Sylvain smoothened over, grinning as he wrapped an arm around Felix’s shoulder. “But it makes things a lot harder than it has to be.”

 “What? Dense?” Ingrid gaped, not sure how she’d ended up here. She was supposed to be the one lecturing them, not vice versa. What was she even being attacked for? Irate, she pointed at them. “I know about you two.”

 This stopped their laughter in its tracks. Sylvain’s eyes grew wide, his expression almost comical as he managed an incoherent, “Huh?”

 Even Felix looked shocked. It was a major victory. Ingrid savoured it for a second before she realized exactly what she’d admitted. Immediately, she covered her mouth, but it was too late. The cat was out of the bag. The air grew tense and she wondered if it was too late to step back into the ball and pretend that none of this ever happened. “I…”

 “You knew?” Sylvain finally asked, regaining control of his mouth.

 “Since when?” Felix was as straight to the point as ever.

 Ingrid rubbed her arm, looking away, past the railing and out onto the barely lit gardens. It was strange, she had suspected this for years, but somehow their admission made her heart ache a little. Maybe it was the lies or the loneliness or—she didn’t know. It just hurt. Quietly, she explained, “It’s hard to miss the way you two look at each other sometimes. Or, you know, the way your hands linger.”

 She blushed as she spoke; it felt even more inappropriate to talk about than it had been to witness.

 Amazed, Sylvain stared at her. “And you noticed that?”

 “That’s because I—” Watch you. Fortunately, what little brain power she had left was working right now and she cut herself off before she could embarrass herself further. If she even finished that sentence, she knew how Sylvain would look at her, and then how he’d ask questions she didn’t know the answer of. Clearing her throat, she finished lamely, “We’re close, that’s probably why. I’m sure no one else has noticed.”

 “Who cares?” Felix grumbled, hands in his pocket.

 Their parents, for one, high society, for another. While the nobles were willing to overlook discrete dalliances, anything too obvious would result in blacklisting. And with Sylvain’s penchant to flirt publicly and Felix’s inability to read any room, it was amazing they’d made it through life as it was.

 For tonight, at least, they’d spent all that time dancing with her and not angering their peers. Whether it was out of pity (and her heart twisted again at the thought) or friendship, they’d spent the last few hours keeping suitors off her hands. It was the most fun she’d had at a ball, even if it had also been the most perplexing.

 It was only fair she returned the favour. Clasping her hands in front of her, she offered, “I can keep the balcony empty for you two.”

 “Huh?” Once more, a befuddled Sylvain stared at her.

 “What are you talking about?” Felix asked, his brow furrowed.

 It was strange, knocking them both for a loop a second time, and it threw her off balance too. Resisting the urge to rub her neck, she gestured at the empty space around them. “It’s a nice night, and there’s plenty of room here. I know you can’t dance inside, but the music still reaches here.”

 “Ohhh.” Sylvain’s expression brightened, catching on. He whistled appreciatively. “Nice eye, Ingrid.”

 “What are you going on about—”

 Before Felix could finish his sentence, Sylvain wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. “Mmm, yeah, I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

 “You’re an idiot,” Felix huffed, but he didn’t pull away.

 Her heart tinged again, an inextricable pain. What did she want? It wasn’t this. They were her friends, she should be happy for them, but she didn’t want this. Not trusting herself, she turned around “I’ll keep an eye for a few songs. They won’t miss you for that long.”

 Luckily, her voice remained strong. Maybe later she could figure out how to smile in front of them.

 Before she could open the door, Felix growled, “Where are you going?”

 That was the only warning she got before Sylvain’s soft hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in place, before Felix’s hand splayed against the door from behind her, pressing on it hard as he kept it shut. Ingrid gave an undignified squeak when she realized she was penned in between the two of them and the doors.

 Every one of Annette’s and Dorothea’s raunchy novels ran through her mind. It was the most inappropriate time for that to happen and did nothing to help her calm her racing heart as she slowly turned to the pair of them. Her cheeks burned a dark red but Ingrid tried to keep her voice as even as possible as she asked, “What are you doing?”

 “Stopping you,” Felix scoffed, still towering over her.

 “I can see that.” Ingrid glared at him. “I mean…” She tried to tug her hand out of Sylvain’s vise-like grip, but he merely grinned, not letting go. “I’m trying to give you some privacy.”

 Sylvain chuckled. “That’s why I called you dense.”

 “Huh?”

 “You got us wrong. Or not entirely right?” He shrugged carelessly as he leaned forward, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “How could you see how we looked at each other, but miss how we’ve looked at you?”

 “Me?” She swallowed. Certain she was misunderstanding, she glanced at Felix, waiting for him to deny it all in his usual blunt manner. “Felix?”

 “Don’t make me repeat him,” he glowered, his ears a bright pink.

 “Wait…then…” Ingrid’s eyes flickered from Sylvain to Felix and back again as she put together everything that happened tonight. “The dancing…”

 “Well, you deserve a proper courtship,” Sylvain explained, his hand now cupping her jaw. Tenderly, his thumb brushed her cheek. “And we couldn’t let anyone else snatch you up.”

 Felix lowered his hand from the door, his fingers now threading through her long hair. Even without saying a word, she got the message loud and clear.

 It didn’t make sense, really. Even hearing their words, she couldn’t believe. But Ingrid had seen the way they’d look at each other, when they thought no one was looking. Something soft and hungry and more powerful than the sun.

 It was how they were looking at her now.

 “Really?” she asked, not fighting her blush as it spread down her neck and up her ears. Her voice came out softer than she’d intended, shyer.

 If they noticed, they didn’t say anything. Sylvain leaned forward, pressing a kiss against the corner of her lip. “Really,” he answered, and she shivered as his breath warmed her skin.

 “Like we’d do this for any other reason,” Felix grumbled, his finger brushing her ear, sending a jolt of electricity through her.

 Ingrid wasn’t sure what she’d tell her father. Or the nobles. Or anyone, really.

 But that was a tomorrow problem. The door was still closed behind her, the curtains drawn, and the night air cool on her hot skin. For now, all she wanted was a moment to just feel it all, this joy that threatened to burst her heart.

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Glittering Green

Written for the 2020 Kidgezine: Kaleidoscope!

Thanks to coronavirus, this year’s zine is a free-to-read PDF. You can find the link to it here: https://kidgezine.tumblr.com/post/628198963429998592/after-a-rough-year-it-is-complete-thank-you-to 

(Due to tumblr hiding posts with hyperlinks in the original post, I’ll be reblogging this post and putting the hyperlinks to the kidgezine and to AO3 there. Sorry for the inconvenience.)

Summary: Keith had felt drawn to the ocean since he was a child. He grew up on the shore. It was where he made his first friend. And years later, it would be where he found freedom.

Also posted to AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune.

- - - - - 

Glittering Green

Keith didn’t get along with many people. He was too quiet, too shy, too odd. He lived on the beach with his single father, who worked for the coast guard. It was just the two of them in their massive family home, and they never had any company over, which made them look strange in the eyes of the townsfolk.

Neither of them let that get to them.

Keith loved that it was just the two of them. His dad never called his interests weird and never pressed when he was in one of his quiet moods, except to check in and see if he wanted anything. Some days the only thing he wanted was to sit down on the beach and look out over the ocean, and his dad rarely said no to that.

He was drawn to the ocean in a way he couldn’t explain. He always had been.

That was where he met her.

She was hidden from view behind the boulder, mostly submerged in the water as she relaxed and picked through a handful of shells. Chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders, covering part of her bare chest, and parts of it were braided and decorated with what looked like colorful beads.

Keith nearly fell off of the rock in surprise but righted himself in time. “Wh-who are you?”

She twisted around to peer up at him with wide, light brown eyes, her mouth parting soundlessly, and then she slid beneath the surface of the water and vanished from view.

Panic laced through Keith’s veins and he fought between the urge to jump in to help her or staying put where it was safe. The undertow was dangerous there - the push and pull of the waves as the current broke against the rough ocean floor was deadly to even experienced divers. He couldn’t go in.

He peered into the water, searching for any sign of movement. If she resurfaced, he may be able to reach down and pull her up.

“Please be okay,” he whispered. “Where are you?”

He decided to wait another minute and then he would go get help. His dad would know what to do.

Time ticked away and still he saw nothing.

With a heavy heart, Keith moved back into a sitting position and prepared to go back to the house, and that was when he saw a flicker of green breach the surface, followed by her face, peering back at him from a distance away.

Keith laid flat on the rock and stretched out his hand. “Can you swim this way? I’ll pull you out!”

She stared back, unmoving except to bob in the waves.

Why wasn’t she moving? Didn’t she want to get out? Why was she even out there by herself?

The girl tilted her head and then began to swim closer, reaching out to touch his hand once she was close enough. She didn’t grab on so he could pull her in. Instead, she pressed her hand to his so they were resting palm-to-palm, finger-to-finger.

“Who are you?” Keith blurted out, the question overpowering all of the others he had. He blanched at his rudeness and hurried to correct himself. “My name’s Keith. What’s yours?”

Still, she said nothing, and Keith began to wonder if she could talk at all. Her hands were gentle against his, and if he looked closely, it almost appeared as though her skin was covered in glitter, the way it sparkled under the sunlight.

“You are… human?”

Her voice was soft and confused as she rose a little more out of the water. She continued to press her hand to his, though her focus was on his face.

Keith didn’t know how to respond. What was he supposed to say to that? Obviously he was human! There was nothing else he could be.

But why would she ask something like that?

“I thought you’d look different,” remarked the girl. She continued to study him as though he was something fascinating. “You look just like I do, except with... Um, what are those called again? Foots?”

“Feet,” Keith corrected without thinking about it. “Hang on, what are you talking about? You’re just as human as I am!”

She shook her head, releasing his hand at long last as she moved further away once again. “Excuse me, but I am fully mer.”

The ability to speak left Keith as he witnessed her roll over and dive into the water. Where it should have been legs rising out of the water, he instead saw a dark green tail, not unlike that of a fish. He gaped at her as she resurfaced.

Mermaids were real and one was right in front of him.

- - - - -

For the first time in ten years, Keith would get to see the ocean again.

He didn’t know how to feel, except grateful to Shiro and Curtis. Originally, it was only meant to be the two of them, but after Keith found himself once again jobless, the pair took pity on him and asked him along on their vacation.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along?” Keith asked in an undertone as he helped Curtis load up the trunk.

Curtis slid his suitcase in place and then looked over at the younger man. “You know we love having you along, and I think it makes our parents worry less too. We have to be the mature, responsible ones and set a good example, after all,” he joked with a wink.

As intended, his words got an amused chuckle from Keith.

“Seriously, though, we’ve both been looking forward to you coming with us this year. You’re not intruding on our time or whatever else it is you’re worried about. Though it is a shame I can’t carry on my tradition of making out with Shiro in every room of the house, but that’s one sacrifice I’m willing to make for you.” Curtis laughed as he caught the next bag thrown his way. “Kidding! Kidding!”

“Is it too late to change my mind?” Keith asked as Shiro came around to join them.

“Definitely,” Shiro said, stepping in to press a quick kiss to Curtis’s cheek. “All ready to go?”

Keith shoved one final bag into the trunk and then moved back. “Now we are.”

Curtis stole the keys from Shiro, skipping away with a laugh as he tried to retrieve them. Keith rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile on his face as he shut the trunk door and made sure it was properly locked.

Soon enough, the three of them were all in the car, with Curtis driving and Shiro serving as the navigator in the passenger seat, while Keith got the backseat all to himself. He had a few activities to stay busy during their five-hour drive but planned on sleeping through most of it.

“Who’s up for road trip games?” Shiro asked, too cheerful.

Keith groaned and leaned against the car door, staring out of the window and resolutely ignoring his brother. Maybe he’d just sleep the entire time to avoid whatever games Shiro had in mind.

He closed his eyes and didn’t respond when Shiro repeated his question.

“Keith, I know you’re not really asleep,” he said.

Curtis reached over and patted Shiro’s leg. “Leave him be, Takashi. Want to pick our music instead?”

There was a sigh, followed by Shiro’s subdued agreement. It took a few minutes and then classic rock began to play from the speakers, aiding Keith in his quest for a nap.

When he woke, his neck and shoulders felt stiff from the awkward position he was resting in. He groaned softly and stretched out the best he could in the cramped space, which caught Shiro’s attention.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty. We’re about twenty minutes out,” Shiro said.

“I slept for that long?” Keith asked, leaning forward for a better look at the time. “Did you guys stop at all?”

“We made a pit stop for gas and food an hour ago, but we didn’t want to wake you. I think Shiro saved you some fries if you’re hungry,” Curtis said.

“Yay, cold fries,” Keith muttered sarcastically. He yelped as Shiro tossed a bag of fast food at his face, raising his hand just in time to block the assault. Along with the mentioned cold fries were a few leftover chicken nuggets, which he picked out first and began to eat.

He leaned back in his seat and looked out the window to get a better look at their surroundings. The land had flattened out enough that, when the trees and buildings weren’t blocking his view, he could spot the ocean, glimmering under the sun in the distance. Keith took a moment to admire it, drinking it all in. He could imagine the sea breeze blowing through his hair again, the scent of the ocean heavy in the air.

It felt like coming home.

Keith swallowed around the lump in his throat, stuffing a few fries into his mouth as a distraction.

“So, Keith, has Shiro told you much about the house?” Curtis asked.

He tore his gaze away from the window before answering. “Just that it’s on the beach and, uh, there are cliffs nearby?”

“Right next to the house, actually. We have stairs leading down to the beach because it’s too steep to get down there otherwise. And it’s a rocky beach with tide pools, so if you want to do any wading, you’ll have to walk about ten minutes along the shore to a safer place,” Curtis explained. “Or you can just use the indoor pool for swimming. My parents use it for marine studies when they’re here, so it’s full of saltwater, but as long as we’re careful about maintaining it, they don’t mind us using it.”

Keith frowned, not at the pool, but at the way Curtis described the house. He could almost picture it; a faded, once-blue house at the top of a steep hill, protected by sheer cliffs on one side and trees on the other. Well-worn wooden stairs led down to the pebble beach, which became solid, smooth rock at the water with perfect little pools where seawater accumulated. Jutting out of the water was a massive, boulder-like protrusion, perfect for basking in the sun.

He shook his head. It couldn’t be. Really, what were the odds that he already knew the place they would be staying? It was likely that Shiro had described it better than he remembered, and that was why it sounded so familiar.

Except…

Except the description wasn’t the only thing familiar.

As Keith watched the passing scenery, he began to recognize more and more. The old general store on the corner. The elementary school with the massive oak tree planted out front. Up ahead, there was a road on the left that would incline up to a residential area. There were only a few houses along the road, and at the very end would be a two-story beach house and garage, both faded blue.

They took a left.

Keith had a hard time breathing as they drove down to the end of the road. Curtis barely had time to pull into the driveway and park before Keith unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door to jump out, stumbling slightly after sitting for so long. He stopped and stared up at the house, unresponsive until a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Keith, what’s going on?” Shiro asked, sounding concerned. “Is something wrong?”

Keith shook his head, struggling to find his voice. “I… I’m home, Shiro. This is where I grew up.”

- - - - -

Keith slowly walked through the halls, taking everything in, while Curtis and Shiro began to unpack in the kitchen and gave him time to get acquainted with his childhood home.

So much was the same. The color of the walls. The dent in the wooden floor where he once dropped his dad’s bowling ball. The one post on the staircase to the second floor that was slightly off-color from the rest.

Keith ran his hand over the banister as he walked upstairs, taking his time to take in all of the memories that were seeped into every part of the house. At the top, if he went right he would see the master bedroom where his dad once slept. To the left were a spare room, a bathroom, and the door up to the attic, which was a converted bedroom.

He turned to the left, not ready to face the memories on the right. He would, in time, but for the moment the longing to see his old room was stronger. Keith reached out and placed his hand on the doorknob, pausing for a moment to close his eyes and steady his breathing.

It twisted easily beneath his hand and he pushed open the door and was greeted by a rush of warm air. The stairs creaked under his feet and it wasn’t long before he was in the small, single-window room at the top. There was still a twin bed tucked away in the corner and a dresser along the wall across from it, eerily similar to his own set-up.

Keith crossed the room to the window, which gave him a perfect view of the ocean and the cliffside to the left of the house. He stood there for a moment, taking it all in.

How many times had he stood there and watched the waves lapping against the shore or crashing into the cliffs? His eyes were drawn to the tide pools, where the large rock still jutted up from the ocean. It had once been his favorite place, where he could go and relax away from the rest of the world. And it was there that he saw a flicker of bright green against gray.

Keith leaned forward, as though it would help him see more clearly, but no matter how hard he looked, nothing changed. He dismissed the change in color as a trick of the light and turned away from the window to walk around the room, lost in thought.

He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something he’d forgotten.

Something important.

A board shifted under his feet. Keith stopped and stooped down, moving his foot away so he could freely examine the floor. He felt around until his fingertips brushed against a raised edge and he was able to pry it free and see what was hidden beneath. A faded red journal was there, covered by a fine layer of dust, and Keith gently lifted it and brushed it off.

More pieces of memory slotted themselves into place in his mind.

His old journal, hidden away to keep something safe. He couldn’t remember why, but he knew he had a good reason for leaving it behind. Like that important thing, tickling the back of his mind.

No, not a thing. A person.

The journal opened easily, with only a few pages crinkling and sticking together, and from between two of them, a thin object slid out. Keith caught it reflexively.

Sitting in the palm of his hand was a scale, slightly smaller than the nail on his thumb and dark green. It was warm to the touch, despite being left there for so long.

All at once, Keith remembered.

There was a girl - his first friend - who he spent so many hours talking to and playing games with, but he had such a hard time recalling details about her the older he got. There was a reason for that too.

“Pidge,” he murmured, testing the name.

Keith moved back to the window, lost in thought as he stared at the scale. He set the journal down on the accent table next to the bed and then lifted his eyes to look at the shore. He stood there for a few long minutes.

And then he swore and bolted for the stairs, clutching the scale tightly as he raced down through the house and blew past Shiro and Curtis. He could hear them calling after him, but didn’t slow down. He turned a corner and took the final set of stairs in the house, which led down to the basement level where there was a large, indoor pool. From there it was out onto the deck and down even more steps until he was on the beach.

He ran until he reached the water-soaked rock, where he slowed down so he wouldn’t slip and fall. His dad’s words of caution rang in his ears, even after so long.

Keith climbed the rock and settled on top, where he sat and waited.

His mind drifted to the memory of their first meeting. He’d been so clueless. So completely unprepared for the truth. But Pidge didn’t care and stuck around to give him a chance. He suspected she was driven by her curiosity and that was why she stayed, at least at first.

He held up the scale, marveling over the way sunlight brought out faint ribbons of brighter green. Her final gift to him was all the proof he needed to know she counted him as a friend and someone she trusted. It was one of her own scales, chosen specifically for him and given with the promise that they would see each other again one day, even if it meant she had to swim out to wait for him every day.

“Keith?”

Keith hid the scale away and twisted around to face Shiro. “Hey.”

“Is everything alright? You ran out of there in a hurry,” Shiro said. “Keith, if this is too much, we can stay somewhere else for the night.”

Keith shook his head. “No, I’ll be okay. I just remembered something and wanted to see if I could find it, that’s all.”

Shiro visibly relaxed. “Did you have any luck finding it?”

“None today,” Keith said, casting one last long look over the water. It was likely that Pidge was already gone for the day if she’d been by at all. He’d have to be sure to get out there bright and early to look for her again.

He climbed down from the rock and made his way to Shiro’s side. “Sorry about making you guys worry.”

Shiro’s gaze softened and he reached out to wrap an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. This is your vacation too and we just want you to have a good time.”

“Yeah, I know.” Keith let his brother lead him back to the house and told himself that he’d find a way to make it up to both of them. He hadn’t meant to make them worry.

Keith spent the rest of the evening with Shiro and Curtis, first helping them finish unloading the car, and then with dinner preparations. He even agreed to play a board game of Shiro’s choice, which brought a big smile to his brother’s face.

When the sun rose the next morning, Keith was already awake. He quickly dressed and went downstairs to grab a snack, bidding Curtis good morning when he found the man standing blearily over the coffee pot.

“Tell Shiro I’m going down to the beach?” Keith requested as he unwrapped a breakfast bar and tossed the plastic into the trash.

“So early?” Curtis asked, sounding confused.

“It’s the best time to look for shells,” Keith said.

While it wasn’t the reason he was going down to the shore so early, it wasn’t a lie. The morning was one of the best times to search for shells, as high tide was receding and leaving all kinds of treasures to find.

Keith stuffed his breakfast bar into his mouth and left Curtis to wait for the coffee to finish brewing on his own as he headed out onto the deck and began the slow walk down all of the stairs. He took his time so he wouldn’t choke on his food.

It wasn’t long before he was sitting back on his rock in the most comfortable position he could manage.

And there he waited.

The sun crept higher and higher in the sky, but Keith remained where he was. Around noon, Shiro came down with a plate of sandwiches and wordlessly climbed up to sit next to him. They ate lunch together, just the two of them and the sound of waves rushed against the shore.

“Curtis and I are going to make a run into town for more food. If there’s anything specific you want, I’ll pick it up for you. Unless you’d like to go with us?” Shiro asked.

Keith shook his head. “You know what I like.”

“Alright, I’m sure I can find something,” Shiro said. He hesitated for a moment, looking out at the horizon. “I can see why you like it here so much. It’s beautiful.”

“I used to come here every day. There’s something about it that’s calming,” Keith explained.

Shiro smiled and patted Keith on the shoulder before climbing down, taking the plate with him. “Text me if you need anything. We shouldn’t be gone longer than an hour.”

Keith watched his brother walk back up to the house and go inside before turning his attention to the water once more, sure that he would see her soon.

Time ticked away.

Doubt crept into Keith’s mind and he began to wonder if he’d dreamed the whole thing up. He was so sure Pidge was real, but maybe she was just a normal human girl who loved mermaids so much that he automatically associated her with them.  

He sighed as he pulled his legs up against his chest. He could stay for a while longer, at least until Shiro or Curtis made another venture to check on him. After that…

Well, it wouldn’t really hurt to keep an eye out, would it? He didn’t have to sit out under the hot sun his whole vacation, but now and then would be okay. He hadn’t been lying when he told Shiro he found it calming.

“I wish you were here, Pidge. Or that I had some clue that you’re still around. That I didn’t imagine everything,” he said to himself. He fought the urge to take the scale out of his pocket and lost, rolling it around in his palm as he continued talking to himself, his voice largely drowned out by the waves. “All I have is this. This and my memory. But what if I’m wrong about everything?”

The ocean didn’t respond.

But there was another voice that did.

“You’re not wrong, Keith. I’m here.”

He gasped, rapidly scanning the water until he found her, shyly peering up at him from around a much smaller rock a few feet away. “Pidge!”

“It’s really you! You came back!” she exclaimed, beaming at him in joy as she swam closer. She held out her hand once she reached where he was sitting and he met her halfway, pressing his palm to hers.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Keith apologized.

He took a moment to get a good look at her and see the differences ten years brought, knowing she was doing the same to him.

Parts of her hair were woven into more intricate braids than before. A few tiny shells joined the colorful beads, dyed a vibrant blue-violet that stood out against her brown hair. Keith had to quickly avert his gaze and focus on her face when he remembered that mermaids didn’t wear any kind of clothing or even decorations to cover themselves. Her hair was long enough to hide most of her chest when it was pulled forward, but he wasn’t about to make her uncomfortable by staring.

“You’re bigger than I remember,” Pidge remarked, seemingly mesmerized by how much larger his hand was from her own.

“So are you,” he responded, though he understood what she meant. They’d been relatively close in size when they were young if he didn’t count her extra length thanks to her tail.

Pidge hummed and lowered her hand before swimming in even closer to settle at the base of the rock in a way that prevented anyone at the house from seeing her. Keith remained where he was, in plain sight but facing the ocean so no one could see him talking. It was how their friendship went undiscovered for so long.

“There’s so much to tell you, that I don’t know where to start!” Pidge said excitedly. “Do you want to hear about my training? Oh! Or should I tell you how Matt got in trouble two movements ago? No, no, I have it! Two decaphoebs ago, Lance and Hunk found the cutest octopus for me. I named him Rover.”

Keith grinned at her enthusiasm. “Why don’t we pick one thing at a time and take turns? Like, you can tell me if you ever managed to beat your brother in a race and I’ll tell you about how I met Shiro for the first time.”

“Shiro? Who’s that?” Pidge asked, her curiosity overwhelming her desire to babble.

Keith took his turn first, glossing over his time in the orphanage and the way other kids treated him at school, moving on as quickly as he could to the kindness of the Shirogane family, in particular their eighteen-year-old son who took one look at him and pronounced him brother.

In return, Pidge spoke of the day she discovered her Inheritance, and how she struggled to keep her newfound electrical abilities in check and use them to her advantage without injuring anyone. She had to pause briefly to explain mer Inheritance to him.

“All mer have magic,” she reminded him. “But we don’t all have the same magic. I can generate electricity, just like my dad and brother, but mom’s gift is the ability to manipulate plant life. My friend Hunk can mold earth into whatever shape he wants, including solid rock. It’s incredible to watch.”

They talked for hours, going back and forth to catch each other up, but they barely made a dent in it by the time Shiro called Keith up for dinner.

“I should go,” Keith said reluctantly.

Pidge looked disappointed but nodded in acceptance. “Will you be back tomorrow? I have a few things I have to do before midsun, but I can come back.”

“I’ll be here,” Keith promised. He held out his hand so they could press them together in their personal version of a hug goodbye, and then he watched Pidge disappear beneath the waves before he climbed down from the rock and made his way to the house.

- - - - -

Keith felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Not only was he back in his childhood home, but he also had the opportunity to reunite with his best friend. It was tricky to keep her hidden from other “surface dwellers”, as Pidge liked to say, but getting to sit and talk with her was well worth it.

Naturally, Keith made it his goal to spend every possible moment with Pidge over the next few days, sometimes ignoring the growl of his stomach out of excitement. Once it’d been so loud that Pidge sent him up to retrieve food for both of them. She said it was so he wouldn’t starve, but her clear fascination over the food he returned with told him otherwise.

He knew he needed to be more careful.

He wasn’t blind to the looks he received from Shiro and Curtis whenever he made an appearance and he knew he needed to come up with a better explanation than simply: “I find the water calming.”

He trusted his brother but keeping the existence of merpeople a secret was too important to risk it.

Even if that meant lying to Shiro.

Keith tried to slow down in the mornings and spend extra time with them. It took all of his willpower to focus on what they were saying instead of daydreaming about what he and Pidge would talk about next, and he thought he was doing pretty well.

“Keith? Museum?” Curtis asked, waving his hand in front of his face. “Do you want to go with us? It’s only a thirty-minute drive.”

“No thanks. I’m just going to stay here today,” Keith said.

Curtis looked like he wanted to say something, but Shiro spoke up before he could.

“If that’s what you want to do, then we won’t stop you,” he said. “The whole point of a vacation is to relax and have fun and everyone has a different way of doing that.”

Keith smiled at his brother. “Thanks. I’m just not up for going out anywhere right now.” He hoped that would be it, but as he helped clean up after breakfast, Shiro approached him and silently began drying dishes as Keith washed them.

“You’re worried,” Keith stated after a moment.

Shiro hummed. “I will admit, I was worried when we first arrived and you told us this was the house you grew up in, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this happy.”

“The strange thing is, being here doesn’t make me sad. Remembering my dad doesn’t make me sad,” Keith said. “There’s only good memories here. If anything, I feel closer to him than I did before.”

“I’m glad,” Shiro said sincerely.

There was nothing more that needed to be said as they finished cleaning up. Keith stuck around to see off Shiro and Curtis, once again turning down their offer to tag along, and the moment they were through the front door, he made a beeline for the shore, rushing more than he needed to.

He beat Pidge there, as he did every day, but he wasn’t waiting for long before she arrived and settled at the base of the rock he sat on. As always, they pressed their palms together in greeting.

“You look happy,” she remarked.

“Shiro and Curtis went to a museum for the day, so we should have the whole day to ourselves. Shiro loves museums,” Keith said.

Pidge tilted her head to one side, causing the beads in her long hair to shift. “Why didn’t you go with them? You could’ve left a message. I wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s not really for me,” Keith said with a shrug. “Shiro will literally spend hours in one area if you let him, and it gets frustrating after a while. Curtis has the patience for it, but I don’t.”

Pidge let the subject drop and instead worked on heaving herself out of the water and higher onto the rock. Keith helped her out, figuring there was no reason to worry about being spotted.

Out of the water, her scales glittered green under the sunlight, refracting green light across the rock and his dark pants. Keith found himself captivated by the color for a moment before redirecting his gaze to her face. Pidge promptly ducked her head and twisted a lock of hair around her finger as though she was embarrassed by something.

Keith cleared his throat. “Today’s our question day, right? Do you have anything you want to ask first?”

Pidge let go of her hair and nodded eagerly. “What’s a museum?”

Keith did his best to explain the function of museums, aided by a few more questions from Pidge that helped him clarify a few details that he forgot. He could tell she had more things she wanted to ask once he was done, but it was his turn.

“You said the other day that Arus is a long way from here, so how do you get here so quickly every day? Do mer swim that fast? Or do you get a ride from a whale or something?” he asked.

“That’s an easy one!” Pidge said. “I just use the teludav. The Alteans set up easy access points all over the world to make travel safer, and one of those points is nearby.”

“What’s a teludav?”

Pidge’s eyes lit up. “It’s this incredible piece of tech the Alteans invented ages ago. Okay, so there’s this terrifying creature called a Weblum that lives in the deep, deep oceans. It’s not aggressive or anything like that, and not really dangerous unless you get in its way because there’s no way of stopping it or making it change its path. Sorry, I’m getting carried away again. Anyway, the primary component that makes the teludav work is a mineral called scaultrite, which is only produced in the Weblum’s stomach. Pretty gross, right?” (Keith didn’t have a chance to agree.) “We use the scaultrite to create special lenses for amplifying and directing Altean magic, and when you put that with the other correct parts, you get a teludav!”

None of that fully answered Keith’s question, so he rephrased it to make it clear what he was really asking. Pidge laughed and told him it was a transportation portal. All she had to do was enter the one in Arus and she would exit in a nearby underwater cave, strategically chosen for the lack of divers in the area.

Pidge happily switched topics so she could take her turn.

They passed the day like that, bouncing questions off of each other and getting answers to things they were curious about. Every now and then, Keith would catch Pidge staring at him, though she was always quick to look away once she saw him looking.

He brushed it off, figuring there was something she wanted to ask and was puzzling out the best way to phrase it.

“Do mer have pets?” Keith asked curiously. He recalled that she briefly mentioned an octopus named Rover sometime before, but she never went into detail about it. “Or any kind of creature that you take care of just because you think they’re cute?”

“Actually, yeah. Loads of mer have giant seahorses or some kind of ray as a pet. My parents have a ray named Bae Bae and I’ve got Rover, but there are also these super cute nudibranchs that I found when I was exploring a shipwreck and I may have taken a few of them home with me,” Pidge said, sounding pleased with herself.

Keith wasn’t sure which part he was more curious about: Pidge’s apparent love for colorful sea slugs or the fact that there were giant seahorses. It didn’t take him too long to decide. “Exactly how big are these seahorses?”

“Kind of like this?” Pidge held out her arms to indicate a size around three feet tall. “The Nalquodians have been breeding them for ages to get them to that size. They’re pretty cool, but you have to keep a close eye on them because they like to flutter around and steal food the moment you stop looking. And I can see the look on your face. It’s my turn for a question and then I’ll tell you about Nalquod.”

“That’s fair,” Keith agreed.

“What kind of pets do surface dwellers own? And can you describe them?” Pidge asked.

“Well, there are birds, which you already know about. They come in a lot of different colors and sizes, and some people like to keep them as pets. The big two are dogs and cats.”

Trying to describe land-based creatures was harder than expected, and Keith was pretty sure he was doing an awful job. If he’d remembered to bring his phone down with him, he could’ve shown her pictures, but naturally he left it up at the house where it was safe from water damage.

Pidge took pity on him when he awkwardly tried to explain the sounds they each make, briefly pressing her finger to his lips to get him to stop talking.

“Nalquod is one of the five major mer cities. You already know about Altea and Daibazaal,” she said. “The others are Rygnirath and the Dalterion Belt. There are so many different kinds of mer all around the world, but they are the oldest of us, and have the most influence.”

“And their tails are different from yours,” Keith said, remembering something she mentioned the day before.

Pidge beamed. “That’s right! That’s one of the biggest differences between the five clans, aside from the places where each one lives. Alteans have scales just like I do, but the Galra have a thick, rough skin that covers their tails, sort of like sharks.”

The more he learned about her world, the more he wished he could see it for himself.

Keith couldn’t think like that. It would only leave him feeling disappointed. “I know it’s your turn to ask a question, but do you want me to tell you the story about the first time I met Curtis?”

“That’s the name of your brother’s boyfriend, right? I’d love to hear more about him,” Pidge said, leaning in close.

Keith shifted a little to get more comfortable and then told her all about his first meeting with Curtis, and how, in a fit of purely accidental clumsiness, he dropped an entire plate of spaghetti on his lap. He thought Shiro would never forgive him.

His story spawned a new line of questions into one another’s lives.

Pidge shared a delightful story about Matt introducing his girlfriend to their family for the first time, and how Rover spent the entire time camouflaging himself in different spots to try and scare her. (Luckily, she thought he was hilarious.)

Keith struggled to figure out a way to explain driving a car to her so that he could tell her the tale of Shiro’s driving lessons, and the time he was so sure they were about to get arrested for driving around in circles in a parking lot.

After a few hours, Pidge called it an early day and then took another fifteen minutes to explain her newest project before actually leaving. Keith watched her disappear with a fond smile on his face and then headed up to the house.

With his newfound free time, he began dinner preparations as a surprise for Shiro and Curtis. Keith hummed a wordless tune as he worked, setting out everything he needed for the main dish. None of the sides would take long and could go in once the others returned, and Keith knew from experience that it was best if he focused on one thing at a time.

Shiro and Curtis were delighted to return to the scent of food. They told him all about their trip to the museum as they ate, and Keith found himself wondering if any of it was something Pidge would be interested in. From there, his mind wandered to what they could do the next day.

Maybe he could take some paper down and they could try and draw things for one another? She was likely to make fun of his stick figure drawings, but it would be worth it to see her excitement over new surface items.

Keith spent most of his evening lost in thoughts, completely oblivious to the concerned looks he got from Shiro and Curtis.

He slept well that night, and after breakfast the next morning, he took his time gathering up a few sheets of paper and a handful of crayons he found stashed away in the floorboards of his old room. He took them all down to the beach and passed time by doing some practice drawings and trying to make improvements.

The morning stretched on and transitioned into noon, which was when Keith started to worry. He set aside his art supplies to keep a careful eye on the water around him. He mentally reviewed their last conversation, trying to remember if she said anything about needing to postpone their meet-up, but she agreed to the same time as always.

He was sure she was fine.

Pidge was just running a little late. Soon, she would show up with some wild story to tell him and they’d spend another day laughing and hanging out. He was sure of it.

She never arrived.

Keith spent the entire day waiting for her, only giving up once heavy clouds rolled in and covered the sun. He was extra cautious as he made his way across the slick rocks, but he still slipped once when the wind knocked him off balance. He recovered before he could fall and was soon safe inside the house.

“There’s a storm coming in,” Shiro said as Keith reached the top of the basement stairs. “Curtis is checking to see how bad it is. We may need to… Are you alright?”

Keith didn’t trust himself to speak and nodded instead. He hoped it was just a passing storm rather than anything big, though either way he was wasn’t going to sleep well.

Curtis returned with news that they didn’t have to worry, but he set them to find flashlights and candles just in case the power went out.

Once the emergency supplies were collected, the three of them gathered in the living room to eat their dinner of leftovers and listen to the local weather report. Shiro tried to lighten the atmosphere when they learned they were in for a windy night and wouldn’t have to worry about rain until some time the next day, but stopped when it became clear that nothing could lift Keith’s mood.

Keith couldn’t even find the energy to feel guilty about worrying Shiro. He was too busy wondering what happened to Pidge. Had she gotten wrapped up in a project and lost track of time? Did her family make her stay home to keep her safe from the storm? Or was it something worse?

He dismissed himself for an early bedtime, hoping he could manage a few hours of sleep, but between the howling wind and his overactive imagination, he spent most of the night tossing and turning. Keith got a few solid hours in the early hours of the morning and counted that as a win, even though it wasn’t nearly enough rest.

The news station gave a similar storm report as the night before; the wind was still blowing and the heavy rain would begin sometime around midmorning. Keith decided it was the most opportune moment he had to sneak down to the shore and check for Pidge one last time.

Keith dragged himself downstairs to wait for sunrise, and the moment there was enough light to properly see, he went outside. From the upper balcony, he could see a splash of bright green against the gray rock.

He was sure he made a sound, but it was drowned out by the pounding of his heart as it lodged itself in his throat. He flew down the stairs and raced across the beach to where she lay.

“Pidge!” Keith gasped as he rushed to her side. He carefully turned her over, searching for any obvious injuries, but didn’t find anything.

She groaned as she began to stir. “Keith?”

“I’m here, Pidge,” he quickly reassured her. His worry intensified as she mumbled sleepily and passed out again.

Keith took a moment to weigh his options, though really it wasn’t a hard choice to make. He couldn’t leave her there with the weather turning so rough, especially when it looked like she’d already hurt herself trying to swim through it. He’d have to take her to the house. Once she woke up and the storm passed, he’d be able to talk to her and figure out what they were going to do next, but for the time being he had to decide on his own.

“Okay, I can do this,” he said to himself, stooping down so he could get a good grip on her. He slid one arm around her back and the other under her tale, pausing to take a deep breath and brace himself for her weight, and then he lifted her up as he stood, grunting from the effort.

Pidge whined softly and Keith quickly soothed her.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you, Pidge. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He kept talking to her as he carried her across the beach and then slowly started up the stairs. The wind buffeted against him, whipping his hair into his eyes, and rapidly drying Pidge’s shorn locks.

He needed to hurry before her tail dried out too much. He wasn’t sure what would happen if it did, but he was willing to bet it wouldn’t be comfortable for Pidge. The sooner he could get her into the pool, the better.

“Almost there,” he said as he reached the bottom deck.

There was only one more obstacle he had to face, and that was getting the door open. Which was not going to be an easy task with an armful of an unconscious mermaid.

To make matters worse, he heard the door on the upper deck fly open and footsteps rapidly making their way across the floor.

“Keith!” Shiro shouted, sounding panicked.

Keith groaned softly and rolled his eyes. Did Shiro really think he was so irresponsible that he would go down there when there was a storm blowing in? (He resolutely ignored the tiny voice reminding him that was exactly what he did - it was an emergency situation! He had to go down there!)

It was far from an ideal situation all around, but Keith was adaptable. First he’d reassure Shiro so he wouldn’t go into full-blown panic, and then he’d get the door open. Easy.

Praying that Pidge would forgive him for what he was about to do, Keith cleared his throat and said: “I’m down here, Shiro!”

Keith braced himself for the round of questions that were sure to be heading his way, but when Shiro reached the lower deck, the surprised Keith with only one: “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” Keith responded. “I found her like this and I couldn’t leave her down there. Not with the storm coming in. Could you open the door?”

Shiro nodded, striding quickly to the door and opening it to allow Keith through. He said nothing else and stood back as Keith walked down into the pool, not caring at all that his clothes were getting even more soaked. He gently eased Pidge into the water until she rested on the bottom and then backed away, keeping his eyes on her to make sure she was still okay, and then sat down on the top step.

Part of him wasn’t the least bit surprised when Shiro rolled up his pants leg and joined him at the poolside, struggling to compose himself as he took in everything he was seeing.

“So, uh, surprise, I guess,” Keith muttered, breaking the silence and startling a laugh from Shiro.

“I can’t believe this is what you’ve been hiding from us. Not that I blame you for keeping it a secret; I’m not sure I would have believed you if you had told us. It just seems so surreal…” Shiro said, keeping his voice down. “Does she have a name?”

Keith nodded. “It’s Pidge. Well, that’s what I’ve always called her. She didn’t want to give me her real name when we first met, so I had to come up with a nickname. There was this pigeon nearby that she was really interested in, so I sort of named her after it. Don’t laugh! I was eight!”

Shiro covered his mouth with his hand, gray eyes glittering with amusement. “You named her after a bird?”

“Shut up,” Keith said with very little bite to his voice. “You’re being really cool about this. I was expecting more questions. More… I don’t know.”

“Honestly? I think I’m still trying to process it all. Mermaids - merpeople?” He glanced at Keith for confirmation. “Merpeople are real. They’re not just a myth or a story, they actually exist. There’s so much I want to ask, but all I can think about is what else is real that most people think is fake?”

“I know magic is real too,” Keith said with a shrug. “Pidge told me that all mer have some form of magic and it sounds like it’s usually elemental. So I guess it’s not magic spells like most humans would think. And… and there whole underwater cities where mer live that are protected by magic and their own form of technology. She says that’s why we’ve never found them. And all of their cities are connected by something called the teludav? Which I think is some kind of portal they use to teleport.” He stopped for a moment, hoping he was relaying things correctly.

It felt so good to share it all with Shiro. He hated keeping secrets from his brother, but there was no longer a need to do so.

He glanced at Pidge and hoped he wasn’t breaking an important rule by being the one to tell Shiro about the mer. There had to be rules against it, right? To prevent everyone from finding out about them? But they could trust Shiro, and Curtis as well.

“Whole cities,” Shiro breathed in amazement. “Like Atlantis?”

Keith remembered asking that very same question as a child, just as he recalled the way Pidge crinkled up her nose as she corrected him. “Actually, that’s just a mistranslation. It’s called Altea, not Atlantis, and I wouldn’t say it around Pidge. I did that recently, more to tease her than anything, and she went on this whole long rant about the history of humans mistranslating various mer-languages and it’s not as interesting as you might think.”

“I’m guessing that’s where she’s from?”

Keith shook his head. “She’s from a small city called Arus. It’s on the border of Altea and Daibazaal - those are kingdoms, not cities - and she said something about it being divided between the two of them? I don’t really know how to explain it, except it belongs to both kingdoms. Pidge would explain it better.”

Shiro asked a few more general questions after that. How did they meet? How did she stay hidden for so long? Why didn’t Keith try to come back sooner?

“I… don’t know.” Keith furrowed his brow in thought. “It was like something was blocking my memory, right up until I found my old journal and the scale… Her scale. There must have been some kind of magic to it that was meant to help me remember, but I was afraid someone else would find it and take it from me, so I hid it in the safest place I knew. I never thought… Shiro, if you and Curtis hadn’t invited me this year… If Curtis’s parents never bought this house…”

He never would have been able to keep his promise.

“Maybe Fate wanted the two of you to meet again,” Shiro suggested. “Speaking of Curtis, I should get upstairs before he comes looking. It might be best if I tell him what’s going on instead of letting him find out on his own. If that’s alright.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, not hesitating for a second.

Shiro stood up and began to head for the stairs. “I’ll bring you down a change of clothes. You can’t be comfortable like that.”

Keith plucked at his sleeve. “It’s not so bad.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiro said in a tone that conveyed his disbelief. He didn’t say another word, leaving Keith alone with his unconscious friend.

Keith sat and waited, listening to the sound of the wind howling outside and the thunder booming in the distance. He hoped it wouldn’t be a bad one. They had a backup generator if they lost power, but he wasn’t sure if the pool was a high-priority in terms of things that needed to stay running.

He could hear Shiro and Curtis talking upstairs, a moment of silence, and then the sound of Curtis undeniably freaking out over there being a real-life mer in the basement pool.

Keith tuned them out. Shiro could handle that on his own and he was much more interesting watching Pidge as she began to come to. Her tail swayed, slowly at first, and then with one powerful flick, she rocketed to the surface to look around wildly, settling once she saw him sitting nearby.

“There’s a storm, so I brought you inside,” Keith quickly told her. “I can take you back once it passes, but it’s too dangerous right now.”

Pidge nodded and then began to look around, taking a moment to examine her new surroundings with a puzzled expression on her face. “What is this?”

“It’s a pool. We use them for swimming, or most people do. Curtis and his family turned it into a tank so they can look after fish,” Keith said, going with the simplest answer he could. “How do you feel?”

Pidge lifted her hand up and watched as the water trickled down her arm. “It’s very strange.”

“I guess it is different than seawater, but that’s not… Pidge, what happened to you?” Keith asked.

She lowered her hand and dove deeper into the pool, making a few laps before popping up next to Keith. She carefully draped her tail over the steps, using them as a bench as she settled with her back against the edge. She reached up, touching the ends of her hair with a frown. “It’s complicated and I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m okay. I promise.”

Keith wanted so badly to press and hear what happened. She obviously wasn’t okay. How could she be after literally passing out in his arms? People who were okay didn’t do that!

“I know you have questions, but I can’t talk about it right now. I will later, but not now.” Pidge’s words turned pleading as she finally looked up at him.

Keith breathed out to release the tension he felt. “Fine.”

“Thank you, Keith,” Pidge said, and the relief in her voice made his heart ache. “How did you get me up here? It always looked so far away.”

He explained how he carried her away from the shore and up the stairs, where he had to get Shiro’s help to get inside. When she didn’t react poorly to knowing Shiro knew about her, he filled her in on the conversation they had.

“Ugh, Altantis,” Pidge grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t worry, I told him not to mention it around you. Hopefully, he’ll pass the warning along to Curtis,” Keith said.

Pidge tilted her head to the side. “Do I get to meet them? There’s no harm in it now since they both know.”

“Only if you’re up for it,” Keith told her. “They’ll have a lot of questions. I don’t think I did a good job explaining Arus to Shiro.”

“You did fine, but I’ll be happy to answer whatever questions they have, as long as I get to ask them stuff too. I want at least three embarrassing stories about you in exchange,” Pidge said teasingly.

“What? No way!”

Pidge laughed merrily and Keith couldn’t help but crack a grin as he tried to talk her down to one story, and only if she shared one of her own.

She pretended to think about it and then shook her head. “No deal. I will, however, give you one about Matt.”

“How is that fair?” Keith asked.

Pidge shrugged. “That’s my offer.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think I want to introduce you anymore.”

“Too late!” Shiro called down the stairs.

Keith groaned good-naturedly and prepared for a day of stories that he’d rather not re-live. He’d have to work in some of his own about Shiro, as few as they were, and hopefully, Curtis would take pity on him and keep Shiro from telling too many.

- - - - -

The storm passed without causing any trouble for them, and by the next morning, the waves were calm enough that Keith felt comfortable carrying Pidge back down. There was only one roadblock with that, and it was Pidge herself.

“You don’t want to go back?” Keith asked with a frown.

“I like it here.”

Keith opened his mouth to ask why she didn’t want to go back, but Shiro cut in before he could get out more than a syllable.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. We enjoy having you here,” he said sincerely.

Pidge beamed, and that was the end of that conversation.

Keith did his best to shrug off his unease. He knew he needed to wait until Pidge was ready to talk, and every time he thought his patience was beginning to wane, he remembered the relief in her voice when he gave that promise, but it wasn’t easy. The more time that went by without her bringing it up on her own, the more he worried.

What happened to make her so disinterested in going home? She always spoke so fondly of her friends and family, of the work she was doing, how could she be okay with sitting in a pool all day with only a few humans for company? He was hesitant to call it fear that was holding her back, but what if that was exactly what it was? But what did Pidge have to be afraid of? Was it because of him? Because of their friendship? Was she breaking a law by meeting up with him again?

He wouldn’t get any answers so long as she refused to talk about it.

After two days of stressing over it, Keith left her to her conversation with Curtis about the varieties of sea slug and made the trek down to his favorite spot to relax on the beach.

Keith closed his eyes and let the sound and feel of the ocean surround him, casting away everything else. He steadied his breathing and relaxed.

He loved having Pidge around. Loved getting to talk to her whenever he wanted, sometimes late into the night. They were able to swap so many stories or just sit in comfortable silence together. And the smile on her face when he would bring her a piece of human technology to examine left him feeling warm for hours afterward.

He just wished it was happening under better circumstances.

Keith sighed and opened his eyes, only to scream and flail backward at the sight of a freckled face directly in front of his own. The other person grabbed onto his shirt to prevent him from pitching back into the water and hauled him back upright.

“Who are you?” Keith asked, swatting the hand away once he regained his balance.

“Where’s Katie?”

Keith stared blankly at the other man. “What?”

What was happening? Who was the crazy person intruding in his space?

“Okay, I know firsthand that humans are not this dumb. Did you hit your head or something?” asked the man. “Oh no, wait, she did say something about a nickname. What was it again? Something like pigeon?”

“Pidge?” Keith asked, bewildered.

“That’s the one! You are Keith, right? She should have mentioned the mullet. Looks ridiculous, by the way.”

“No one asked you!” Keith snapped, already fed up. “Who the hell are you anyway?”

“The name’s Lance! And since we’ve established that you’re Keith, you are going to take me to Katie now. You’ve gotta know where she is. There’s no other place she would’ve gone,” he said.

Lance.

Keith knew that name from Pidge’s stories. He was one of her friends - the loudmouth one with a blue tail. Except Keith didn’t see a single scale or a tail. There was nothing about him to indicate that he was a mer and he definitely remembered Pidge saying that he was. But there he was with two human legs.

He was also very, very naked.

“I’m not taking you to anyone until you put on pants,” Keith told him, already feeling a headache coming on.

“Right, let me pull out a pair from thin air,” Lance said sarcastically. “Obviously I don’t have any. I was in a rush. Just give me your shirt or something and I’ll figure it out.”

Keith was not going to do that. How would that help anything?! If anything, it would make the situation worse.

He stripped out of his pants instead and thrust them in Lance’s direction. He could go around in boxers for a while, but he wasn’t letting Pidge’s crazy friend go without wearing something. “Here, just put these on and I’ll take you to see her. I’m warning you, if you’re lying about knowing her, you will regret it.”

“Fair enough,” Lance said with a shrug. He took the pants and put them on, making a face at how short the legs were on him. He didn’t comment on it, which was lucky for him because Keith was prepared to shove him off of the rock if he did, screw the consequences.

Keith very reluctantly took Lance up to the basement, planning out what he’d do if he was lying or, even worse, that he was the reason Pidge didn’t want to go home.

When he opened the door, he found Pidge and Curtis right where he left them, though Shiro had also joined the conversation. They all looked up and Shiro raised an eyebrow when he saw that Keith had stripped down to his boxers, but all of Pidge’s attention was on Lance.

And she was smiling.

Lance tripped over his own feet as he hurried forward, his hands working to unbutton the pants and shove them down his skinny legs. He kicked them off before diving headfirst into the pool.

Bubbles covered his body as he swam to meet Pidge halfway, and when it cleared away, his legs had been replaced by a magnificent blue tail. It was scaled like hers was, but his fins were shaped more like a fan, and he had a few more than she did, positioned closer to his hips on either side. His freckles turned blue and lit up faintly across his skin. They were mimicked in his tail as well, with swirls of spots glowing a shade brighter than his scales.

He and Pidge met in a hug, catching each other in a way that made them spin together. A tightness built up in Keith’s chest at the sight of their closeness, dissipating only once the two separated. They spent a minute talking underwater before Pidge gestured to the surface.

“Is anyone going to explain what’s going on?” Keith asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “How did you do that? You had legs two minutes ago.”

“I did. Thanks for lending me your pants, by the way,” Lance said blithely.

“Lance is half mer.” Pidge took it upon herself to explain what was happening. “Because he’s half-human, he has the ability to shift forms whenever he wants, kind of like Alteans.”

“Altean? Is that like Atlantian?” Curtis asked.

Keith snorted as both Pidge and Lance answered with the most deadpan “no” he’d heard yet.

“I’m sure Katie would love to explain everything that’s wrong with that mistranslation, but she can do it later. Basically, Alteans are one of five major mer clans and are regarded as one of the oldest. They have the unique ability to shapeshift, and not just between mer and human, but to blend in with the locals, wherever they travel. See they used to-”

“Lance, we don’t have time for a full history lesson,” Pidge interrupted. “Nice to know you’re taking your training as a future adviser seriously. Coran would be proud.”

Lance looked delighted by the praise. “Think you can tell that to him? He’s convinced that I’m too distracted by, uh, other things.”

“Not a chance.”

“Rude.”

Pidge stuck out her tongue and blew, making a face when it didn’t generate the same effect as it would underwater.

“So you can shapeshift, Lance?” Shiro asked, trying to get them back on topic.

“Just between mer and human,” Lance said. “It’s not nearly as cool as what Alteans can do and is leagues lamer than what Royal Alteans are capable of. They have magic that lets a human turn mer or a mer turn human, but the effects are permanent. That’s how my mom went to live on the surface with my dad.” He paused as he took a good long look at Pidge. “But Katie’s right when she says we don’t have time for this. I’m not here for a social visit, I’m here to bring her home.”

Pidge turned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Lance swam around her and grasped her shoulders, preventing her from moving again. “If I let you, you’ll never talk about this. Listen, you went missing for two days and your family is worried sick! If Lotor hadn’t gone to your house to look for you and apologize, we never would have known what happened!”

An emotion Keith couldn’t read flickered over Pidge’s face.

“Katie, what those guards did, it wasn’t right. Lotor was mad about-” (Lance cut himself off and his gaze briefly landed on Keith before he refocused on Pidge.) “- stuff, but he wasn’t going to banish you for it. He wants you to know that they’ve been punished and will be sent back to Daibazaal for final judgment from his father. He says he’s sorry for the way he overreacted.”

“He really said that?” Pidge asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, once your mom was done yelling at him for it. I am so glad I was there to witness that,” Lance said. “So what do you say? Ready to come home?”

Pidge hesitated, drawing back into herself as she considered her options. Then she shook her head. “Not yet.”

A spike of relief flooded Keith’s body, followed by guilt for feeling that way. He didn’t have to say goodbye yet, but it was because Pidge still didn’t feel comfortable going home.

Lance’s shoulders dropped at her response. “Alright, if you’re sure. I can take messages back to everyone for now.”

Shiro caught Keith’s eyes and gestured towards the stairs. Keith stared at him for a moment, unsure of what he wanted, until it suddenly clicked in his mind that he was suggesting they give them some space. He nodded and slowly moved away, walking upstairs with him and Curtis and settling in the kitchen, where they began to quietly talk.

Or Shiro and Curtis did.

Keith was too busy trying to piece together what happened to Pidge from the limited details Lance gave them, but all he really had was even more questions.

Who was Lotor? The name was unfamiliar to him, but clearly, he meant something to Pidge. Why had she never mentioned him? All of the other names were familiar to him. Coran was an adviser to Altean royalty - an eccentric source of knowledge and always ready with some kind of story or odd phrase. Lance, of course, was one of her best friends, and probably why she knew more about humans than he expected. Her family, of course, was her mom, dad, and her older brother, Matt.

He’d never heard of Lotor before.

Keith scowled.

“Alright, Keith?” Shiro asked as he changed seats to sit next to him.

He wanted to say that he was fine and not talk about it, but stopped and thought about it before the words slipped out. If he did that, then he’d be doing to Shiro the same thing Pidge was doing to him.

Keith folded his arms over the table and laid his head down. “I just wish she’d talk to me, you know? There’s so much she’s keeping bottled up and hidden from everyone, even Lance. I want to help her, but I don’t know how.”

He looked helplessly at Shiro, hoping his brother had a good piece of advice to give him. He usually did.

“I think the best thing you can do is be there for her. Let her come to you in her own time, just like you’ve been doing,” Shiro said. “You can’t force this.”

Keith should have known that’s what he’d say. Normally, it wouldn’t be so bad, but he didn’t have time to wait patiently. They were already halfway through their vacation and it wouldn’t be long before people started to wonder when they’d return.

He turned his head so he was staring straight down at the table. “Patience yields focus, right?”

Shiro chuckled.

Someone knocked on the wall near the stairs and then Lance stuck his head around the corner. “Hey, just wanted to say I’m headed out. I’ll be back tomorrow if I can get away. If not, then as soon as I can. Oh yeah, and I’m going to keep your pants down on the beach if you don’t mind. I figure that will be less traumatizing to you.”

That was fine.

Shiro raised an eyebrow as Lance left without another word. “He’s… interesting. You’re really okay with giving him your pants?”

“Would you rather he walked around naked?” Keith asked.

Shiro swiftly replied with a negative.

Keith continued to sit with his head and arms on the table, mulling things over as Curtis came down after his phone call with his parents and got started on lunch for all of them. Soon, the smell of baking fish filled the air and his stomach began to rumble in response, distracting him from working out a plan. He turned his head to watch his brother quietly flirt with Curtis.

Before long, the food was finished and Keith was being handed two plates, one of which was unseasoned for Pidge. Keith thanked him and then made the trip downstairs, where he found Pidge making quick laps around the pool, her tail rippling in color from dark emerald to luminous yellow-green.

Keith took up his usual place on the pool steps, letting his feet rest in the water. He set Pidge’s plate off to one side for her to eat once she was ready and then dug into his own, using his fork to cut off individual bites.

Pidge quietly surfaced near him, carefully lifting the plate so she could examine the fish prepared for her, checking it over for any spices or unusual coloring. They’d quickly learned after the first time that while mer did have ways of cooking their food with heat vents, their methods of flavoring food was vastly different if they were able to add any at all. The herbs and spices they used on the surface were too much for her to handle, and from that point on they made a point to cook hers without.

She picked up her fork and speared a small piece, nibbling on it to check the taste. When she found it was cooked to her satisfaction, she began cutting off larger pieces.

“So Lance is interesting,” Keith unintentionally echoed Shiro’s earlier words. “You never mentioned he was half-human.”

“It never came up,” Pidge responded with a short shrug. She scraped her fork along her plate, trying to pick up every last little piece. “Lance has lived in Arus for so long, I don’t really think about it anymore.”

“Do you want more food?” Keith asked.

Pidge shook her head and set her plate and fork down. “I’m full.”

Silence once again fell over them as Keith finished eating. He was sure at any moment she’d choose to go back underwater, but to his surprise, she stayed right where she was.

Keith sat on the edge with his plate resting in his lap, trying to decide the best way to begin. He had to get something off of his chest before more time passed.

“Pidge, I know I said before that I would wait until you’re ready to talk, and I meant it. I’m not going to pressure you into it. And I know that me saying this makes it sound insincere and I probably should have phrased it better, but I’m here for you whenever you’re ready to talk. It doesn’t have to be all at once. You can do it in pieces if that makes it easier, but it’s all up to you.”

“Keith…”

He looked over at her. “All I want is to help you, in whatever way I can.”

Pidge reached out and took his plate away, putting it on top of her own before taking his hands in her own. “You deserve to know, and I want to tell you, but…”

“You’re not ready.”

Pidge looked at their hands and was silent for a long moment. “Lotor is the prince of Daibazaal. He came to Arus five years ago as part of his training, and we sort of… hit it off, I guess.” She crinkled her nose in thought. “He recognized my skill in mer-tech and gave me resources and a place in Sincline Castle to continue my work. In repayment, he gets the first look at my projects and a safe haven from his more persistent suitors. I know you probably think the worst of him after what Lance said, but he’s not like that. It’s complicated, I guess.”

“He lost his temper with you, Pidge, and it was bad enough that someone thought he was ordering your banishment. It’s not that complicated,” Keith said, a little more waspishly than he intended.

Pidge didn’t flinch away or scowl or otherwise indicate that she was bothered by Keith’s words. Instead, she stroked her thumb over the back of his hand. “Lotor has every reason to be upset with me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him where I was going, because I know how he feels about humans. I should have told him. He should have heard it from me and not someone else.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“I know,” Pidge said, smiling sadly as she finally looked up at him. “Lotor lost his temper, and for that, I expect an apology, but I owe him one for not being truthful. He’s my friend and I lied to him. It put him in a difficult position, especially considering the way many mer view our relationship.”

Something ice-cold dropped into Keith’s chest at the implication that anything was going on between Pidge and some tantrum-throwing prince. He quickly reminded himself that she said they were only friends, but the feeling lingered uncomfortably for the rest of the night, intruding on his sleep and making him wake in a cold sweat. The image of Pidge being held by a faceless mer haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

When morning came, he was right there with Curtis, waiting for the coffee pot to complete its brewing cycle.

Curtis raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Keith muttered as he dumped large spoonfuls of sugar into his cup to try and cover up the bitterness of the coffee. He took a sip, made a face, and added another spoonful before fetching the milk from the fridge and adding that as well.

“Want to talk about it?” Curtis asked curiously.

Keith shrugged, setting his cup down on the table before dropping into an empty chair. “Dunno.”

He honestly wasn’t sure that there was any point in talking about it. He couldn’t say anything without betraying Pidge’s trust and while he liked Curtis, it wasn’t the same as talking to Shiro. Unfortunately, Shiro was using their vacation as an excuse to stay in bed for as long as possible every day and Keith wasn’t going to intrude on that.

Maybe he could phrase things in a way that wouldn’t betray Pidge’s confidence.

“Pidge was telling me more about her home and said something about everyone else thinking she and another mer are in a relationship, and it bothers me, I guess. It has to suck, being friends with someone and facing the expectation of there being more between you when there isn’t,” Keith said.

Curtis was silent for a moment as he sipped his black coffee. “Which part bothers you? The thought of Pidge being with this person? Or is it sympathy toward Pidge for being put into that situation?”

The image of Pidge and the faceless mer flashed through his mind.

Keith swallowed. “The first one. Though, I mean, the second part too. I don’t know, Curtis. The whole thing sucks.”

Curtis smiled at him. “You must really like her. Shiro and I had our suspicions, but we didn’t want to say anything. And we still won’t, because this is your journey, Keith. This is something you have to figure out on your own.”

He liked Pidge.

Well, obviously he liked Pidge! She was his friend and always had been, even if he’d forgotten for a while.

But that wasn’t what Curtis was saying, and Keith wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the direction his mind was taking him. To think of Pidge in a way that went beyond friendship…

Heat rushed to his cheeks as his mind played out a scene replacing him with the faceless mer, holding Pidge lovingly in his arms. It was ridiculous and he felt guilty thinking of her that way, but he couldn’t help himself. Once the thought was there, it only blossomed and grew stronger, and all at once, Keith fully understood why the thought of Pidge being with Lotor bothered him so much.

“I like Pidge,” Keith said softly.

Shiro was never going to let him live it down. Not after the way Keith teased him about his crushes in the past.

“If you want a little extra advice: take your time with this. You don’t need to go rushing in,” Curtis said.

Keith nodded, though he wasn’t really listening anymore. He thanked Curtis for his help and continued to sit at the table and drink his coffee, finishing up just as Shiro shuffled into the kitchen in his pajamas.

Shiro looked pointedly at Keith’s cup. “Rough night?”

“Curtis will tell you about it,” Keith said, standing up to put his cup in the dishwasher. He ignored the overly dramatic way Curtis swooned as he declared “Keith’s in love”, and instead walked right by him without a word.

The last thing Keith heard as he started down the stairs was Shiro asking: “What’s really going on?”

He took his time, still trying to decide the best way to talk to Pidge.

It was no secret that he wasn’t the best at vocalizing his feelings, and that was especially true when he was still trying to figure them out for himself. He knew that there were some jealousy issues to work out and Shiro always said that the best way to counter potential misunderstandings was by talking it out, so that was what he was going to do.

Even if he had no idea how to do that.

Maybe he should wait until he had proper time to digest, but it was a little late for that, as he reached the bottom of the stairs and automatically gravitated toward the pool. He smiled at Pidge as she popped her head out of the water, waiting patiently for him to sit down before she swam forward and held out her hand. He reached out to meet her halfway, letting their fingertips touch first before pressing their palms together.

‘I really like her.’

Pidge looked up at him curiously. “Are you alright?”

His eyes flickered to her face. “I, uh… I was thinking…”

Thinking what? He wasn’t sure that there was a single solid thought running through his head between the cacophony of sirens ringing in his ears. His mind was a mess. He was overthinking everything. Underthinking everything. Staying upstairs to face Shiro’s teasing would be far better than the meltdown he was currently experiencing.

“We’ve never hugged,” he blurted out.

“Well, no, but that’s because you always said it was too dangerous for you to go into the water. That’s why we do our own thing, remember?” Pidge sounded confused.

He was already screwing things up. His cheeks burned as she looked away from her and he knew he needed to stop talking, but more words spilled out anyway. “Sorry, I’m being stupid. You’re right. We have our own thing.”

Pidge responded by threading her fingers through his own. “It should be safe enough for you in here, so why don’t we try?” She tugged gently, enticing him to follow her deeper into the pool, and smiled softly when he went along with her without complaint. She stopped once they reached the deep end, where she let go of her hand and turned around to face him. “Hold your breath.”

Keith followed her directions just in time, as she looped her arms around his neck and her tail around his legs at the same time. He instinctively placed his hands where her skin blended into scales, his mind barely having time to process how closely she was pressed against him before they sank underwater.

He didn’t panic, even as his heart began to race. Part of his mind noted that the way she hugged him was entirely different from the way she hugged Lance the day before, but that information wouldn’t hit him until later, once he had time to revisit the new memory. He could feel her sigh against him as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

Disappointment washed over him when she moved a few seconds later, lifting herself up so they were face-to-face, but that feeling didn’t last for long.

Pidge lightly brushed her lips against his and his brain short-circuited.

Keith exhaled in shock, blowing bubbles directly into Pidge’s face. She began laughing and unwound her tail, helping him back to the surface so he could catch his breath. He was sure his face was bright red as he voiced his apologies.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Pidge said, unable to keep herself from grinning. There was a pink hue spreading across her face - a blush, perhaps? (Did mer blush like humans?) “I, uh, I’m sorry too. I should have warned you or asked permission or something. It seemed like the perfect moment, but all I’ve done is made a mess instead.”

“You haven’t,” Keith was quick to reassure her. “I was surprised that time, but we can try again.”

They should probably talk about what was happening. Keith knew that. Pidge likely knew that as well, but both of them were too elated by what was happening, the thrill of their friendship possibly shifting into something more overriding any logical thought.

Keith held his breath again as Pidge pulled him back underwater.

- - - - -

Later, once Keith’s head began to swim from repeated lack of oxygen, the two finally settled down to talk. They retreated to the steps, where Keith remained submerged in the water so Pidge could recline against him.

“I really like you,” he told her.

“That’s good,” Pidge said. “Because I like you too. A lot.”

After that, it was as though a wall toppled down between them. Pidge took the lead at first, delving into the joy she felt at seeing him again, the way she nearly spilled everything to him the day she caught herself admiring the way the sunlight brought out a shade of violet in his hair, and her fear as she began to wonder if her feelings were born of a ten-year wait to see him again.

“Do you still think that?” Keith asked.

“Not anymore. Actually, Matt caught me moping about it and we talked, so that helped me a bit. It was right before Lotor…” Pidge trailed off and shook her head. “It was the night before Lotor found out that I was seeing you, which made everything worse, I think. Here I was, worrying about my feelings for you, and suddenly I have an even bigger mess to figure out, but before I have a chance to do anything, those guards get it in their heads that I deserve banishment or whatever!” She stopped to breathe, electricity crackling harmlessly over her scales. It tingled against Keith’s skin where they touched.

“Is that what happened to your hair?” he asked.

Pidge lifted her hand to touch the ends of it. “Yeah, that’s a typical method of punishment for the Galra. The loss of braids, and especially adornments, is a big deal to them. It was upsetting at first, but I can grow it back. Mostly, I was just afraid. Coming to you was the only thing that made sense.”

Her show of trust made his head swell, just as much as the sadness in her eyes made it clench in pain. He wanted to say something comforting, but everything he could think of sounded so hollow.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that,” he said.

Pidge gave him a soft smile. “I do wish it all went differently, but it gave us all of this extra time to spend together, so I feel oddly… thankful?”

Ten years ago, he would have argued with her on that point. Five years ago, he would have started a fight about it, not intentionally, but out of misplaced anger. Luckily, living with Shiro as his brother for eight years had helped quell that fire that raged inside of him at all of the injustices of the world.

Patience yields focus.

Keith breathed out. “You might have a good point. It would have taken me longer to figure out my feelings for you. Probably not until I got home…” His throat tightened.

He would’ve gotten home and been so listless, so lost, and not known why. How long would it have taken him to figure it out? Shiro would have to step in, he knew that much. But would it have been too late by then?

“That doesn’t make what happened to you a good thing,” Keith said fiercely, kicking himself for thinking that way. He blinked in surprise when he felt Pidge tug him down by the sleeve of his soaked shirt so she could stretch herself up and kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, Keith. Now, enough about this. It’s your turn for an emotional confession about all of the things you like about me,” Pidge said, her eyes glittering playfully.

Where could he start?

He loved listening to her ramble on or get caught up in long-winded tangents, before abruptly leaping back to her original topic, even if it meant he struggled to follow her stories. He loves the passion she held for her work. Her mischievous grin when she was about to make a pun. The cute way she tilted her head when she was puzzled by something.

Most of all, he loved how comfortable he felt with her.

The two of them talked for some time, lost in their own private world, right up until a knock at the door jolted them back to reality. They both looked to the glass door, where Lance stood in his borrowed jeans.

Keith lifted his hand in greeting, giving Lance silent permission to come inside.

“Hunk sent me with some food,” he said as he walked over to the side of the pool. He raised an eyebrow at their closeness but didn’t comment on it. “He also says that he’s jealous that you get to try surface cuisine and he wants to hear all about it once you get back, nevermind the number of times I’ve offered to bring food from mom.” Lance rolled his eyes.

Pidge laughed as she moved away to accept the bundle of food. “Sounds like Hunk’s doing just fine. How are Matt and my parents?”

“Still upset that you left without saying anything, but glad that you’re safe. Matt says if you don’t come home soon, he’s going to go through your stuff and color code it to his own specifications,” Lance said.

Pidge gasped in mock outrage. “He wouldn’t!”

“He might,” Lance said with a shrug. He glanced over at Keith, who wondered if it was a good time to make an excuse to go upstairs and leave them to talk. “Speaking of you going home, any idea when you’re going to?”

“Not yet.”

“Pidge-”

“I’m not ready yet,” she said stubbornly.

And yeah, that was Keith’s cue to go. He murmured an excuse to go check on Shiro and Curtis before getting out of the pool. He toweled off to the best of his ability on his way upstairs, where he found Curtis talking on the phone. He took one look at the expression on Keith’s face and pointed to the door leading out to the upper deck, where Shiro was leaning against the rail and enjoying the hot summer sun.

He turned to look at Keith when he heard the door slide open.

“Did Lance chase you off already?” Shiro asked.

Keith shrugged as he joined his brother. “It seemed like they have some things to talk about without me around. Mer stuff or whatever.” He vaguely waved his hand and then fell still, staring out over the ocean.

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke.

“I’ve been thinking about what Lance said, about the Royal Alteans and their magic.”

That wasn’t at all what Keith expected to hear. He looked up at Shiro with a frown. “What’s this about?”

“You’re happy here. Happier than I’ve ever seen you, and I can’t help but think that it’s more than just Pidge influencing that. This house, the ocean… this is where you belong.”

It didn’t take Keith long to figure out what Shiro was saying.

“I’m not leaving you,” Keith said, panic seeping into his voice. “Shiro, I can’t!”

“You could,” Shiro gently disagreed. “Keith, look at me. It doesn’t matter where you are in the world, you will always be my brother. No matter what choice you make, I will be there to support you. And this is your choice to make. I’m just pointing out one of the possibilities to you.” He held his arms open and let Keith hide his tears in the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Why do you always have to be like this? You’re the older one. Shouldn’t you be telling me not to go running off to live in the ocean with the girl I like?” Keith grumbled.

“Probably,” Shiro acknowledged.

Keith pulled back and wiped his eyes. “It’s ridiculous. I don’t… I couldn’t. What about your - our parents? What will you tell everyone?”

“We’d figure it out somehow. Lance should have a good idea of how this sort of thing works. You should ask him about it, if it’s something you’re genuinely considering,” Shiro said.

There was something about asking Lance for help that grated on his nerves, but that would be his best option. Far better than getting Pidge’s hopes up.

Though that raised another question: Did Pidge want him to go with her? What if their relationship wasn’t meant to last? The transformation was permanent, according to Lance, so would he be okay living in the ocean if he and Pidge had a fight and ended their relationship?

Keith had a lot to think about. A lot of pros and cons to weight before he came close to deciding. And somewhere in there, a talk with Lance to figure out how any of it would work.

“How many days do we have left?” Keith asked.

“Maybe a week more?” Shiro responded though he didn’t sound sure. “You don’t have to decide by then, but I’d talk to Lance for sure. This is a life-changing choice and I don’t want you to think of it as now or never just because we leave soon. We can always come back. The house isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Keith murmured, his eyes drawn back to the ocean as he pondered the possibilities laid before him.

- - - - - 

Talking to Lance sucked.

They needled each other in all the wrong ways, which led to more bickering than coherent discussion, but eventually, they managed to (mostly) set aside their differences to have a civil conversation.

Keith had to admit, Lance had a wealth of information about the process, thanks to his half-mer lineage. Apparently, he and his older sister were the only two who chose to live in Arus, while the rest of his family lived on the surface and helped serve as liaisons between the two worlds. Anything Lance didn’t know, one of them could help with.

“You’d be surprised by how many people around here know the truth about mer. Loads of people around here are descendants, whether they know it or not, and it’s become a tradition to embrace stories about mer as part of the town tourism. It helps throw off people who really want to do us harm, I guess. Anyway, my family helps out a lot with any issues that crop up and my brother has a boat, which will be useful if you decide to go through with this.”

Keith looked at him in confusion. “Why would that be useful?”

“It’ll get us away from prying eyes, for one. And the spellwork will be easier away from the shore, especially the one here. Unless you want to get cut up by rocks?”

He had a good point, so Keith let it drop and agreed that a boat would be useful. Lance had a few more things to tell him before he left for the day, including a word of warning.

If Keith chose to live the rest of his life in the ocean, it couldn’t be solely because of Pidge. He had to be sure it was what he wanted for himself because once he chose, there would be no going back.

Keith knew that, but hearing it from someone else put it into sharper perspective.

Any time he didn’t spend agonizing over what he would do, he spent with Pidge. Not much had changed between them since their make-out session, aside from a newfound closeness and Pidge’s habit of finding ways to drape herself over him. They still sat around and talked. One day Keith brought a tv downstairs and watched a few movies with her, doing his best to explain “movie magic” to her until Shiro or Curtis took pity on him and lent a hand.

The days flew by, every second ticking away at an alarming rate. Keith knew their time was coming to an end when he saw Pidge gazing at the door with more and more frequency.

“I should go back tomorrow,” she said quietly.

“Already?” The word slipped out without Keith meaning for it to happen and he grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. You’ve been away from your home for a while now and I know you miss it.”

“I do miss it. I’ve been trying to convince myself that I haven’t, but I really do. I miss my family, my work, everything about Arus,” Pidge said. “It’s time I stopped hiding. And anyway, you have to leave soon too, don’t you? I heard Curtis say something about packing.”

Keith swallowed. “About that… I don’t think I’m going with them.”

Pidge tilted her head to the side. “Why not?”

“I’ve been talking to Lance about something and figuring out a few things, and now I’ve decided.” Keith paused to steady his breathing. “I’ve decided that I’m going back with you. To Arus.”

For a brief moment, Keith thought she might tell him no, but then a delighted trill filled the air. That was his only warning before she hauled him down by his shirt and kissed him fully on the mouth. It was only a quick kiss, but it conveyed her happiness perfectly well.

“You’re going to love Arus!” she said as they separated. “I can’t wait to show you everything! Oh, I wonder what your coloring will be? That’s always the interesting part about this. The way Altean magic works, it should look similar to mine, just a different color.” Pidge stopped and took a hard look at Keith. “You’re sure about this, right? Lance told you that it’s a one-way transformation?”

“I know, and this is what I want,” Keith said.

Her pensive expression was swept away by a bright smile as she again began to talk about all of the things she could show him. He could only grin at her enthusiasm, though he was still slightly confused about what a klanmuirl was and how it was relevant to what she was talking about.

The more they talked, the more certain Keith was of his choice, and with Shiro’s unwavering support, he found that he was only slightly nervous when the day arrived.

Lance took care of everything. He roped his human family into helping them get to the right place, on top of convincing someone named Allura to meet them near the surface so she could perform the necessary spell. All Keith had to do was follow his instructions and everything would work out the way it was meant to.

Pidge threw a wrench in their planning when she decided at the last minute that she didn’t want to swim out to meet them, but travel by boat along with Keith. Once again, Lance and his family came to the rescue with a specially designed wheelchair that was equipped with a water tank and a blanket to hide her tail from view.

Keith stayed by her side the whole time, easing his nerves by quietly answering her questions as he pushed her through town. It worked until they reached the boat owned by Lance’s oldest brother, Luis, and were introduced to him and his mom, who insisted on being called Alita rather than Ms. McClain.

“Thanks for doing this for us,” Shiro said as he helped move a plank into place. Making a bridge was the only way they would be able to get Pidge onto the boat without taking her out of the wheelchair.

“It’s no problem. We love helping out where we can, and Pidge is a family friend,” Luis said. He bent down to make sure the board was stable and then gestured for Keith to push her across. Once they were safely on the boat, he and Shiro moved the plank back onto the dock for anyone else to use.

“Let’s get this party started!” Lance enthusiastically said as he jogged up behind them.

Keith jumped in surprise at the mer’s unexpected arrival. “I thought you were meeting us out there.”

“Huh? Nah, I’m the only one able to signal Allura once it’s safe for her to find us, and that’ll be way easier if I’m with you guys,” Lance said. He hopped the gap onto the boat, beating his brother and Shiro. “Alright there, Katie?”

Pidge nodded. “This is so cool! I never thought I’d actually be able to ride in one of these!”

Lance shrugged, apparently not seeing what the big deal was, and stepped out of the way to greet his mom, who opened her arms wide and hugged him tightly, as though it had been years since she last saw him rather than a few hours.

As everyone else got settled on the boat, Luis worked on untying them from the dock. It wasn’t long before they were ready to set sail for a point on the ocean that only the McClain family knew about.

While Shiro and Curtis made small talk and Pidge stared in awe at the rapidly shrinking shoreline, Keith closed his eyes and tipped back his head, lost in thought.

What would his dad say, if he were still around? Would he try and talk Keith out of it? Would he be supportive?

He thought about him a lot throughout his vacation. How could he not when he was home after so long? His dad loved that house and living so close to the ocean. Maybe he wasn’t drawn to it in the same way that Keith was, but he loved it all the same.

Keith had the fleeting thought of his dad insisting on joining him undersea and tried not to grin. That was absolutely something he would do, if he was still around.

A hand on Keith’s shoulder brought him out of his thoughts, and as he opened his eyes he realized they had stopped. The boat was unnaturally still on the water, not even rocking as the motor cut off.

“It’s time,” Pidge said, smiling at him. She took her hand away as Keith stood and walked in front of her, bending down so she could wrap her arms around his neck. He lifted her with ease and completely missed the looks of surprise from Luis and Alita, and carried her to the back of the boat, where Lance stood with his arms out.

Keith sucked in a breath as he took in the reason the boat wasn’t shifting in the waves. There were none. The water was flattened around them in a perfect sphere, held back by some sort of magic.

“Pretty awesome, right? I can do way better in my other form, but this is good enough for now,” Lance bragged.

“Show off,” Pidge teased, wriggling in anticipation. She took a moment to compose herself and then asked Keith to turn around so she could properly say goodbye to Shiro and Curtis.

Once she was done, Keith let her slide from his arms and watched as she splashed into the water below, disappearing from view. The ripples evened out before she breached the surface and waved up at him. “Allura and Hunk are here, so I’m going to go say hi! Come on in once you’re ready.”

“I guess this is it,” Keith said. He looked at Shiro, thankful that no more words needed to be spoken as they embraced, holding on tightly for as long as they could. When they separated, it wasn’t with dry eyes.

Curtis opened his arms and pulled Keith in for a brief hug. “We’ll see you next summer. Earlier, if we can manage it.”

Keith nodded and then stepped back up to the edge, preparing to jump in. He saw that two other mer had joined Pidge on the surface; one had dark hair and what looked like a yellow-orange cloth wrapped across his forehead, and the other mer had white hair and bright pink marks on each cheek.

“You might want to strip out of your clothes before you jump in,” Lance warned him. “Transforming is uncomfortable enough without those getting in the way.”

Before Keith could start to look around for a solution to preserve his modesty, Shiro tossed him a towel patterned with crabs for him to wrap around his waist. He shot Lance an irritated look before he began to strip, neatly folding his clothes and setting them aside, piece by piece.

Lance rolled his eyes.

Keith made sure he had a good grip on the towel, held his breath, and then jumped, plunging feet-first into the water. He resurfaced quickly, aided by Pidge to stay afloat, though it wasn’t too difficult to do on his own thanks to Lance’s iron control over the surface of the water.

“Keith, I’d like to meet Hunk and Allura,” Pidge said, gesturing first to the dark-haired mer and then to the one with pink markings.

Hunk surprised him by swimming in for a hug. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Uh yeah. You too?” Keith said, taken aback by the friendliness Hunk immediately showed him. He looked at Allura, wondering if she was about to do the same, but she simply smiled warmly and then got straight to business.

“Lance has already informed you of how this process goes, but I’d like to go over it one last time,” she said.

Keith was momentarily surprised by her accent, but brushed it aside and nodded, willing to do whatever he needed to.

“It’s very important that I complete the spell uninterrupted. If not, you will revert to purely human and we will not be able to try again. You must remain calm and that will not be an easy task.” Allura’s gaze softened, though her voice remained firm. “You will feel discomfort as your body changes, but it should not escalate to terrible pain. For some, that discomfort is too much and they lose sight of what is happening. Should you forget to hold your breath and start to drown, I will stop.”

Keith nodded. Lance had gone through everything with him a number of times, in greater detail. “I’m ready.”

Pidge kissed his cheek and then swam over to Hunk, remaining a safe distance away.

Allura glanced up at Lance. “How are you holding up?”

“I could do this all day, beautiful,” he responded with a wink.

Allura rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. She lifted her hands out of the water and held them out towards Keith. “Take my hands and hold your breath so we may begin.”

Keith did so, closing his eyes as well as Allura pulled him under the water. He expected a feeling of panic or alarm to set in as all sound became muffled and he sank deeper, but he felt perfectly at ease.

If he were to open his eyes, he would see the crescent marks on Allura’s cheeks begin to glow, and soon after the matching patterns on her upper arms and sides. Her magic went to work, slowly transferring into him, seeking out what needed to be changed, and then it picked up speed.

Keith felt the warmth first, settling in his chest and legs. And then came the prickling feeling, like he sat the wrong way for too long and his legs were going numb. It intensified and Keith wondered if he’d been lied to about the pain, but it eased up after a few seconds.

Allura let go of his hands, and soon after his ears popped and he could hear clearly. He opened his eyes in shock, fearing for a moment that he’d floated back up to the surface, ruining the whole spell and his chance at being with Pidge.

He found himself staring at Allura, who looked back at him with a shocked expression. Hunk and Pidge were a respectful distance away, but he found that he could see them clearly through the water.

Hunk and Allura were as different from one another as they were from Pidge and Lance. He remembered Pidge saying something about different types of tails, but it was only by seeing it for himself that he understood what she meant.

Hunk had a magnificent tail, banded with stripes of golden-yellow and brown. His fins fanned around him in great spikes, making him appear even larger than he was.

Allura was his opposite. She was slender and fluid, with fins that danced like sheer curtains caught in a breeze. Her scales were dazzling in color and were primarily white, with splotches of pinks and a hint of blue.

“You should be able to breathe now,” Allura said.

He released the air he’d been holding in the form of a few tiny bubbles, and then, going against his innate instinct to rush to the surface, he breathed in.

“It worked,” he said in wonder, raising his hands to see if there was anything different. There was slightly more webbing between his fingers to aid in swimming, but no other visual difference. As he looked down his body, however, he started to see the reason for the shock on Allura’s face.

At his waist, his skin faded smoothly into a purple color, which remained light across what was once the tops of his legs, while at his sides it began transitioning to a darker shade. Dots of red splashed through that transitional area, spaced so closely together that it looked like a splotchy ribbon winding down each side of his tail.

His tail which was not scaled, but instead resembled shark skin. Keith reached down to check and found that it was rough to the touch.

Keith looked back at Pidge, who swam in closer with an expression of awe on her face. She reached out, touching his lower jaw and tracing something up onto his cheek. “It worked,” he giddily repeated to her and then turned his attention back to Allura. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Keith, but all you needed was a bit of a nudge in the right direction. Your own magic handled the rest on its own,” Allura said.

“My… my own magic?” Keith asked with a frown.

Allura nodded. “Perhaps we should take this above water. I’m sure everyone would like to hear this.”

Pidge helped Keith rise gently back up to the surface, whispering to him how to move in a way that wouldn’t have him spinning in circles or moving too fast.

“That was fast,” Lance remarked as they all popped their heads up. He continued to keep the water still. “There wasn’t a complication, was there?”

“No, it worked flawlessly. Even better than I expected, to be honest, but that is all thanks to Keith’s lineage,” Allura said.

His lineage. Keith was still trying to work his brain around his own magic working to help Allura’s, and she had to throw that into the mix? There was something about his bloodline that helped him become a mer?

Alita stepped forward, her expression kind as she addressed Keith. “You’re Travis Hawkins’ boy, aren’t you? I always suspected he had knowledge of mer-folk, but I never knew how. Now I suppose we finally know, it was thanks to your mother.”

“My mother?”

All Keith felt was confusion. What did his mom have to do with anything? He never had the chance to meet her, and his dad never talked about her.

“Keith, you have Galra markings,” Pidge said. “That sort of thing is only passed down from parent to child. If both of your parents were born human, even if one of your grandparents was mer, then you wouldn’t inherit that magic. This means your mom was Galra.”

He was half-mer.

Shock settled over him.

Shiro seemed to realize the same thing, but his surprise quickly gave way to joy. “Keith, do you know what this means? You’re half-mer, like Lance! You can come back and visit whenever you’d like! That is what that means, right?” He looked to Lance for confirmation.

“It’ll take some practice to shift correctly, but yeah. Pretty much,” Lance said.

He could come back.

He wouldn’t spend the rest of his life separated from his brother.

Keith still wanted to go live with Pidge, but the relief he felt at having the option to return soothed him in a way he hadn’t expected. Slowly, his shock began to wear off. He could see Shiro again. Could go for walks along the shore. And at the end of the day, he could go home to Pidge.

“I could come back to see you off,” he said, ignoring Lance’s quiet admonishment that he needed practice first and it wasn’t easy. He’d master it in hours just to spite the blue-tailed mer.

“Then we’ll see you in two days and you can tell us all about your new home before we leave,” Shiro said.

Hunk swam up next to them. “Speaking of home, we should get back before everyone starts to wonder where you’ve gone, princess.”

Allura nodded. “Yes, of course. Lance, are you ready?”

Lance looked relieved by the news but continued to work his magic over the area despite the slight tremor in his arms. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Goodbyes were exchanged and Keith smiled at his brother one more time before inexpertly diving underwater to follow Pidge and the others to the teludav that would take him to his new home.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

I’d go so far as to say that the nomination probably saved the site, in fact. For those who need a little background: despite being a small voluntary project the site was nominated for the 2014 Publication of the Year award by Stonewall, the UK’s largest LGBT charity, just nine months after its inception. This was a landmark step in Stonewall’s positive new direction on bi issues. To the best of my knowledge, this was the first time Stonewall had specifically nominated a specifically bi publication or organisation for an award. At this point my co-founder, who was taking care of the business side of things, had recently jumped ship and I was seriously considering packing the whole thing in. I won’t lie, I was astonished to read the email.

I’d worked on a publication which won the award under my editorship a few years previously. Unlike Biscuit, however, g3 magazine – at the time one of the two leading print mags for lesbian and bi women in the UK – had an estimated readership of 140,000, had been going for eight years and boasted full-time paid office staff and regular paid freelancers. Biscuit, by contrast, was being dragged along by one weary unpaid editor and a bunch of unpaid writers who understandably, for the most part, couldn’t commit to regularly submitting work.

Little Biscuit’s enormous competition for the award consisted of Buzzfeed, Attitude.co.uk, iNewspaper and Property Week. We didn’t win – that accolade went to iNewspaper – but the nomination was nevertheless, as I say, a huge catalyst to continue with the site. I launched a crowdfunder, which finished way off target. I sold one ad space, for two months. Then nothing. I attempted in vain to recruit a sales manager but nobody wanted to work on commission. Some wonderful writers came and went. There were periods of tumbleweed when I frantically had to fill the site with my own writing, thereby completely defeating the object of providing a platform for a wide range of bi voices.

The Stonewall Award nomination persuaded me to keep going with the site

The departure of the webmaster was another blow. Thankfully by this point I had a co-editor on board – the amazing Libby – so I was persuaded to stick with it. And here we are now. I don’t actually know where the next article is coming from. That’s not a good feeling. But, apart from for Biscuit, I try not to write for free anymore myself, so I understand exactly why that is. As a freelance journo trying to make a living I’ve had to be strict with myself about that. I regularly post on the “Stop Working For Free” Facebook group and often feel a pang of misplaced guilt because I ask my writers to write for free, even though I’m working on the site for free myself, and losing valuable time I could be spending on looking for paid work.

Biscuit hasn’t exactly been a stranger to controversy, in addition to its financial and staffing issues. Its original tagline – “for girls who like girls and boys” – was considered cis-centric by some, leading to accusations that the site had some kind of trans/genderqueer*-phobic agenda. Which was amusing, as at the height of this a) we’d just had two articles about non-binary issues published and b) I was actually engaged to a genderqueer partner, a fact they were clearly unaware of. Now the site is under fire from various pansexual activists who object to the term “bisexual”. To clarify – “girl and boys” was supposed to imply a spectrum and, no, we don’t think “bi” applies only to an attraction to binary folk. The site aims the main part of its content at female-spectrum readers attracted to more than one gender because this group does have specific needs. But there is something here for EVERYONE bisexual. Anyway, it’s a shame all of this gossip was relayed secondhand, and the people in question didn’t think to confront me about it (which at least the pan activists have bothered to do). We damage our community immeasurably with these kinds of Chinese whispers.

Biscuit ed Libby, being amazing

Whilst trying to keep the site afloat, I’ve also been building on the work I started right back when I edited g3, and trying to improve bi visibility in other media outlets. I’ve recently had articles published by Cosmopolitan, SheWired, The F-Word, GayStar News and Women Make Waves and I’m constantly emailing other sites which I’ve not yet written for with bi pitches. Unfortunately, although I am over the moon to be writing for mainstream outlets such as Cosmo about bi issues, it’s been an uphill struggle trying to persuade some editors out there that they have more readers to whom bi-interest stories apply than they might think. It’s an incredibly exhausting and frustrating process.

Libby and I are doing our best with Biscuit. I can’t guarantee that I would be doing anything at all with it if Libby hadn’t arrived on the scene, so once again I would like to mention how fabulous she is. But we desperately need more writers. We need some help with site design and tech issues. We need a hand with the business and sales side of things. We can’t do it without you. And if you know any rich bisexual heiresses who read Biscuit, please do send them our way. 😉

Grant Denkinson’s story

denkinsonpanel

Grant speaks on a panel chaired by Biscuit’s Lottie at a Bi Visibility Day event

So first of all, explain a little about the activism you’re involved/have been involved in. 


“I’ve been involved with bisexual community organising for a bit over 20 years. Some has been within community: writing for and editing our national newsletter, organising events for bisexuals and helping others with their events by running workshop sessions or offering services such as 1st aid. I’ve spoken to the media about bisexuality and organised bi contingents at LGBT Pride events (sometimes just me in a bi T-shirt!). I’ve helped organise and participated in bi activist weekends and trainings. I’ve help train professionals about bisexuality. I’ve also piped up about bisexuality a lot when organising within wider LGBT and gender and sexuality and relationship diversity umbrellas. I’ve been a supportive bi person on-line and in person for other bi folks. I’ve been out and visibly bi for some time. I’ve helped fund bi activists to meet, publish and travel. I’ve funded advertising for bi events. I’ve set up companies and charities for or including bi people. I’ve personally supported other bi activists.”


What made you get involved?

“
In some ways I was looking for a way to be outside the norm and to make a difference and coming out as bi gave me something to push against. I’ve been less down on myself when feeling attacked. I’ve also found the bi community very welcoming and where I can be myself and so wanted to organise with friends and to give others a similar experience. There weren’t too many others already doing everything better than I could.”

How do you feel about the state of bi activism worldwide (esp UK and USA) at the moment?

“There have been great changes for same-sex attracted people legally and socially and these have happened quickly. Bi people have been involved with making that happen and benefit from it. We can also be hidden by gay advances or actively erased. We still have bi people not knowing many or any other local bi people, not seeing other bisexuals in the mainstream or LGT worlds and not knowing or being able to access community things with other bis. We are little represented in books or the media and people don’t know about the books and zines and magazines already available. The internet has made it easy to find like-minded people but also limited privacy and I think is really fragmented and siloed. It is hard to find bisexuals who aren’t women actors, harmful or fucked up men or women in pornography designed for straight men. We have persistent and high quality bi events but they are sparse and small.”

What’s causing you to feel disillusioned?

“I’m fed up of bi things just not happening if I don’t do them. Not everything should be in my style and voice and I shouldn’t be doing it all. I and other activists campaign for bi people to be more OK and don’t take care of ourselves enough while doing so. People are so convinced we don’t exist they don’t bother with a simple search that would find us. We have little resources while having some of the worst outcomes of any group. I don’t want to spend my entire life being the one person who reminds people about bisexuals, including our so-called allies. I’m not impressed with the problem resolution skills in our communities and while we talk about being welcoming I’m not sure we’re very effective at it. I’m fed up with mouthing the very basics and never getting into depth about bi lives and being one who supports but who is not supported. I’m all for lowering barriers but at a certain point if people don’t actively want to do bi community volunteering it won’t happen. Some people are great critics but build little.”

What do you want to say to other activists about this?

“Why are we doing this personally? I’m not sure we know. How long will we hope rather than do? Honestly, are there so few who care? Alternatively should we stop the trying to do bi stuff and either do some self-analysis, be happy to accept being what we are now as a community, chill out and just let stuff happen or give up and go and do something else instead.”

Patrick Richards-Fink’s story

085d4de So first of all, explain a little about the activism you’re involved/have been involved in.

“Mostly internet – I am a Label Warrior, a theorist and educator. Here’s how I described it on my blog: “One of the reasons that I am a bisexual activist rather than a more general queer activist is because I see every day people just like me being told they don’t belong. It doesn’t mean I don’t work on the basic issues that we all struggle against — homophobia, heterosexism, classism, out-of-control oligarchy, racism, misogyny, this list in in no particular order and is by no means comprehensive. But I have found that I can be most effective if I focus, work towards understanding the deep issues that drive the problems that affect people who identify the same way that I have ever since I started to understand who I am. I find that I’m not a community organizer type of activist or a storm the capitol with a petition in one hand and a bullhorn in the other activist — I’m much better at poring over studies and writing long wall-o’-text articles and occasionally presenting what I’ve gleaned to groups of students until my voice is so hoarse that I can barely do more than croak.” So internet, and when I was still in school, a lot of on-campus stuff. Now I’m moving into a new phase where my activism is more subtle – I’m working as a therapist, and so my social justice lens informs my treatment, especially of bi and trans people.”

What made you get involved?

“I can’t not be.”

How do you feel about the state of bi activism worldwide (esp UK and USA) at the moment?

“I feel like we made a couple strides, and every time that happens the attacks renewed. I hionestly think the constant attempts to divide the bisexual community into ‘good pansexuals’ and ‘bad bisexuals’ and ‘holy no-labels’ is the thing that’s most likely to screw us.”

What’s causing you to feel disillusioned?



“It is literally everywhere I turn – colleges redefining bisexuality on their LGBT Center pages, news articles quoting how ‘Bi=2 and pan=all therefore pan=better’, everybloodywhere I turn I see it every day. The word bi is being taken out of the names of organisations now, by the next group of up-and-comers who haven’t bothered to learn their history and understand that if you erase our past, you take away our present. Celebrities come out as No Label, wtf is that. Don’t they make kids read 1984 anymore? It’s gotten to the point now that even seeing the word pansexual in print triggers me. I’m reaching the point now that if someone really wants to be offended when all I am trying to do is welcome them on board, then I don’t have time for it.”

What do you want to say to other activists about this?

“Stay strong, and don’t give them a goddamned inch. I honestly think that the bi organizations – even, truth be told, the one I am with – are enabling this level of bullshit by attempting to be conciliatory, saying things that end up reinforcing the idea that bi and pan are separate communities. We try to be too careful not to offend anyone. Like the thing about Freddie Mercury. Gay people say ‘He was gay.’ Bi people say ‘Um, begging your pardon, good sirs and madams and gentlefolk of other genders, but Freddie was bi.’ And they respond ‘DON’T GIVE HIM A LABEL HE DIDN’T CLAIM WAAHHH WAAHHH!’ And yet… Freddie Mercury never used the label ‘gay’, but it’s OK when they do it. And he WAS bisexual by any measure you want to use. But we back down. And 2.5% of the bisexual population decides pansexual is a better word, and instead of educating them, we add ‘pan’ to our organisation names and descriptions. Now, this is clearly a dissenting view – I will always be part of a united front where my organization is concerned. But everyone knows how I feel, and I think it’s totally valid to be loyal and in dissent at the same time. Not exactly a typically American viewpoint, but everyone says I’d be a lot more at home in Britain than I am here anyway.”

[yikesharringrove]

i’m sorry that you’re having a rough time. if you need to talk my ask is always open! 💜 something I haven’t really seen in the harringrove fandom is a bookstore aus. do you have any head cannons for that? or maybe you could write something? i can see billy being a pretentious, flirty sometimes grumpy bookstore owner who is simultaneously annoyed and charmed by clueless steve who is obvi not a reader, but keeps coming in. Billy’s clueless why the pretty keeps coming in. robin is not clueless!

(ao3)

“Fuck.”

Billy shook out his hand, just dropped a large box of books on his fingers.

“Dumbass.” Robin was perched at the counter, leafing lazily through some indie zine her friends made.

“You know you could, like, help.” Billy shot her a glare as she rolled her eyes, leaving him and his smushed little hand to shelve the new stock.

“No point in that, Boss.” Billy just kept sorting maneuvering himself through the narrow shelves to sort the new arrivals.

His bookshop had been open for about a month, and was doing well. He had a little cafe in the back corner, run by Heather and her baked goods. There was a second level to the shop he filled with squashy armchairs, and little tables. It had become a fairly popular spot with the kids from the local university as they studied, or avoided their studies with the books he had on the first level.

He had new and used books, had a trade-in program with book donations. It was warm in the little shop, sweet and cozy.

The bell above the door chimed.

“Hi, I was looking for Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals by Immanuel Kant.”

“You can find Billy, he’s in the stacks over there, and he should be able to help you better than I can.” Billy rolled his eyes, could hear the smile in her voice. He kept shelving, could hear the light footsteps approaching.

“Um, excuse me, I was told you can help?” Billy looked up, his breath hitching when he saw the guy. He was tall and lanky, slouching like he wanted to be small. He had all this messy brown hair, these big dark eyes behind his glasses.

“Kant, right?”

“Yep!”

“This is a good one. Have you read the Critique of Pure Reason? That book was pretty big for me, his thoughts on causation in relationship to time and experience were so new to me first time I read it.”

“Oh, it’s uh, it’s actually for a class. I’m not any good at this philosophy stuff.” Billy just smiled weekly. This guy was almost fucking perfect. He wandered over a few stacks to search.

“You at the university?”

“Yeah, I’m a senior. Just finishing up my generals and everything so I can graduate. I’m studying to be a teacher. Sorry, you probably don’t give a shit.” He had red splotches high on his cheeks.

“No, I always love talkin’ with new folks.” He smiled gently at the guy, reaching up for the book. “Immanuel Kant. Robin up front’ll take care ‘a you.” The guy fidgeted for a second, taking the book slowly.

“Thank you, I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Billy.” Steve waved at him, awkwardly and adorably.

-

Steve began coming in just about every other day.

He would say an awkward hello to Billy, would be all fidgety and weird, and retreat to the comfy second floor with a large iced latte, face red, mumbling to himself.

“He has a crush on you.” Robin was poking him over the counter. Steve had just high-tailed it up to work on his schoolwork after asking Billy how he was and looking so fond when Billy just said not so bad.

“Shut up, Rob.”

“He does. He’s in here almost every day, and gets so fucking nervous when talking to you. He wants to date you and kiss you.” She sang it at him, wiggling around a bit.

“Jesus Christ, Robin, he doesn’t. He’s a paying customer.”

“A paying customer that gets all cute and blushy when you two talk, and who never says more than three words to me.” Billy rolled his eyes, retreating to the back office.

She followed him, stomping loudly.

“At least admit you think he’s cute.”

“He’s fuckin’ adorable, but he said he’s not a big reader, and when I started talkin’ about Kant philosophies, his eyes got all big like that shit went way over his head. I don’t think we’d work out.”

“Just because someone doesn’t read and-slash-or comprehend eighteenth century philosophy, doesn’t make them not worthwhile.”

“It’s kind of a deal breaker for me, Rob.” She glared at him.

“You are so pretentious. He’s cute, and he seems sweet, what does it matter?”

“I just like intellectual types.”

“I fucking hate you.” She huffed, stomping back out into the shop.

-

“What in the hell?” Billy was up on the second floor, cleaning up the discarded coffee mugs and books left behind before closing. He heard muttering from the corner, looking to see Steve, tucked in a large armchair, frowning heavily at the book propped in his lap, something thick and heavy, probably for that philosophy class he’s been trudging through.

“You okay, Pretty Boy.” Steve slammed the book shut.

“Yeah I’m fine.” He began shoving his school work away, stuffing it roughly into his bag.

“Hey, whoa.” Billy plopped down across from him, taking one of Steve’s wrists in his own. “What’s wrong?” Steve whipped off his glasses, digging his thumbs into his eyes.

“It’s just been a long day, and my dyslexia gets so much worse when I’m tired, but this midterm is tomorrow and I need to study.”

“I didn’t know you were dyslexic.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot my button that says I’m dyslexic, ask me how!” Billy sat back, one eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. And my brain hurts.”

“You know we have audiobooks. There’s a whole selection in the back downstairs.” Steve looked up at him.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah. We have tapes and CDs. Have a bunch of random stuff. You wanna take a look through it all?” Steve’s eyes were wide. He shoved his glasses back on, following Billy to the display.

They were sitting on the ground, going through the selection Billy had, Steve had found two of the books he needed for his philosophy class.

“Billy I’m heading out-” Robin stopped when she saw the two of them, sitting in a sea of tapes and CDs. “You do know we closed, like half an hour ago.”

“Holy shit. Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me to go! I would’ve gotten outta your hair.”

“Relax, Pretty Boy. I don’t mind stickin’ around. Don’t got much else goin’ on.” Robin was watching them with a smug look on her face, sitting in one hip.

“No I have to, I should go. I’ll, um, I’ll come back for these tomorrow.” He pressed the few he had selected into Billy’s hand, gripping his upper arm. “Thank you, Billy. It really means a lot to me.” He gave him a sweet smile, threw Robin a two-finger salute as he hefted his backpack, leaving the shop with a jingle.

Robin slapped Billy’s arm.

“He’s so hot for you, and you’re practically in love with him too, this is disgusting and gay.”

“Robin no homophobia in my store, please.” She laughed at him as they locked up, Billy cleaning up the mess of audiobooks.

-

“Hi, I brought you this.” Steve was wearing a soft sweater under a pair of overalls. He looked so soft and Billy wanted to cuddle him.

He was currently pushing a plastic container full of chocolate chip cookies over the counter.

“I wanted to say thank you for helping me last night, and I know there’s straight up a cafe that sells these in the back, and you could probably eat as many as you like because you own the whole place, but I thought it’d be nice and I bake when I’m stressed and ramble when I’m nervous, if you couldn’t already tell, but you’re really nice and I just wanted to do something nice for you, and I’m gonna shut the fuck up if you don’t mind.” He was bright red, his eyes darting around the shop, looking everywhere but at Billy.

“Thank you, Sweet Thing.” He took a cookie, taking a big bite out of it. “And I got your audiobooks on hold.” Steve giggled when Billy talked with his mouth full of cookie, rifling through his wallet to get cash for the CDs. “Your midterm was today, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I, you remembered.”

“You told me last night.” Steve shrugged.

“Sometimes people kinda tune me out.” Billy frowned, opened his mouth to say something in rebuttle but Steve plowed on. “I had the test today. I think it was okay, but it always goes either way with me. Sometimes I feel super good about it afterwards, but then I’ll straight up fail and sometimes it goes the other way, so I’m hoping ambivalence is key.”

“I think that sounds like a valid plan. Just keep your mind off it.”

“You read anything good lately.” Billy just gave him a look.

“Take in where we are, then get back to me.”

“I mean, you probably read a lot, but have you read anything good lately?”

“Define good.” Steve shrugged. One of the straps on his overalls fell off his shoulder. It was so cute.

“Like, engaging content.”

“That’s a pretty low bar.”

“Well, I know you probably read like, super smart stuff that goes way over my head. If we were talking about novels I would say, engaging plot, interesting rounded characters, all that shit, but you probably read, like, I don’t even fucking know.”

“I’m gonna let you in on my best kept secret.” He leaned into the counter a little. Steve’s eyes were bright as he leaned over the counter, shoving his nose right into Billy’s space. “I’m a sucker for classics.” Steve had this cute little half smile on his face.

“Like, Moby Dick?”

“Jesus, no. Nobody actually likes that book. I mean like, Pride & Prejudice and Emma and Wuthering Heights and Don Quixote.”

“I think I’ve heard of like, two of those.” He gasped a little, his eyebrows going up. “I have an idea! Would you recommend me audio books? Of all your favorites? I want to be able to like, talk about them with you.” His eyes were shining and bright, so excited to share these books with Billy, these books that mean the world to Billy.

“Sure thing, Pretty Boy. I’ll pick a new one out for you every week or so.” Steve hoped from foot to foot, wiggling and excited.

“I wanna do that! WE can have our own little bookclub. It’ll be so fun, we can like talk about your favorite books, and I’ll actually get it because I won’t have to be, like, translating the fucking wiggly words.” He was crackling with energy over this idea, it was making Billy excited.

And then Steve’s phone started going off in the chest pocket of the overalls. When he took it out Billy caught a glimpse of the name Nance.

“Sorry, this is my ex-girlfriend.” He smiled at Billy who’s heart dropped. “But I’ll be back tomorrow, if you wanna have a book ready for me!” He pushed the cookies closer to Billy with a Look, answering the phone as he awkwardly pushed open the door with his back, and a little hey, Nance!

“How was your boyfriend today?”

“Straight. He’s fucking straight.” Robin furrowed her brows.

“Sorry, there’s no way that boy is completely  straight.”

“He got a call from his ex-girlfriend. He’s fucking straight, and we’re gonna start a stupid bookclub thing because he wants to read my favorite books and he’s fucking straight.” Billy shoved the cookies away from him, taking up on of the heavy boxes of book donations, heaving it to be shelved.

Robin followed him to the stacks.

“Just because he had an ex-girlfriend doesn’t mean he’s straight, Billy. He could be bi, or pan, or fluid, or literally anything.” Billy just ignored he, kept shoving the new arrivals away. She sighed at his back. “Okay, asshole. Give him some queer book, like Orlando and see what he says about it.” Robin tromped away when Billy refused to answer.

-

Steve tripped on the door frame the next day.

He spilled out hard on the floor, smacking his chin and spilling paper. It was so fucking funny, but Billy stifled his laugh, and helped Steve up. His face was red, the flush spreading down his neck.

He took one look at Billy when he stood up, and walked right back out the door.

-

He gathered up the courage to come back in three days later.

“Watch yourself there, Pretty Boy.” Steve’s face went hot again.

“I’m so sorry about that. I was so fucking embarrassed, I had to go have a panic attack for like, six hours after that.” He gave a shaky little laugh. “I believe I was promised an audiobook?” Billy took it out from under the counter.

“Maurice, by E.M. Forster. It’s a gay classic about coming of age, and having to live in the closet, and being in love. It’s excellent.”

“Sounds like my fuckin’ life.” Billy stared as Steve just read the snippet on the back of the box.

“You gay?”

“Pan.” Steve said it easily, didn’t even look up from reading the box. Billy can hear Robin gloating in his head, saying that she’s right.

“Cool.” Steve gave him a weird look.

“You’re being weird.” Billy shrugged. Steve glanced at the large pride flag hanging in the window of the store, looking back at Billy with one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I’m a big ol’ homo. I’m really not being weird. I just didn’t know.” Steve reached out to push his shoulder.

“I’m kidding, Bill! Quit bein’ so grumpy.” Billy couldn’t help but smile when Steve was looking at him like that, was giggling at him like that.

-

When Steve finished the audiobook, they talked about it over hot tea after closing.

That became their ritual, Steve would get a book recommendation, would finish it in about four days, he’d stay after closing an they’d talk. The next day, he’d get a new one.

They began talking about more than just the books.

Steve was an incredibly easy person to talk to. Something about his big eyes made Billy want to open, to share his past.

He told Steve about his dad, just the tip of the iceberg, just the basic he’s a homophobic asshole. But then Steve told him he’d been kicked out of his house at eighteen, so Billy told him his father was physically abusive, and before he fucking knew it, they were both tearing up and connecting.

“Who’re you texting?” Robin snatched his phone, dancing out of his reach as she scrolled through the texts between him and Steve. “Oh my God, are you sure you two aren’t dating.” He ripped his phone out of her hands.

“Shut up, Robin.” He stormed to the back office, his refuge whenever Robin started bugging him.

“No. You two have been doing this dance for months. You two have your own special bookclub. You need to ask him out.”

“I just don’t wanna assume anything and fuck up this friendship. I don’t have very many friends, and i don’t wanna lose him. Just because he’s into guys doesn’t mean he’s into me.”

“Billy you’re hot. And me, a whole lesbian, telling you that means it’s true. I’ve seen the way he is around you. Remember when he fucking fell and had to leave immediately? He’s so hot for you and nervous rambles all the time. If you asked him out he would say yes.”

But Billy never actually got a chance to ask him out.

The same night Robin was bugging him Steve came slamming roughly into the shop.

“You okay?” Steve was quiet, something Billy had never seen in him.

“Just a bad day.” He sipped at the tea Billy had placed in front of him.

“You wanna talk about it?” Billy said at the exact same moment Steve looked right at Billy as said.

“You wanna go on a date with me?”

“Sorry, what did-” Billy ears were ringing.

“No, I didn’t say anything.” Steve was looking everywhere but Billy.

“No you asked me out.” He took a breath.

“Look, I really like you. Like a whole lot. And today was shit and the whole time I just kept thinking about how I wanted to see you, and talk to you about it, and I knew just walking in here and looking at you would make the whole awful day that much fucking better and I just wanna go on a date. With you.”

Billy’s mouth was open.

“Holy shit.” Steve was steadily going even more red.

“I’m sorry if I just fucked up this whole thing we had goin’ on-”

“No, I wanna go out with you. I really like you too.” Steve was still, and then he started wiggling, that excited little side to side he does.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Steve stood up, shaking and wiggling in the cutest little happy dance Billy has ever fucking seen.

“Oh my God. I’ve wanted to ask you out for like, months. I’m so excited.” He flopped back into his seat. “Okay but first, Animal Farm. I think the pig’s an asshole.”

Billy leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

[bryanastar]

I Got Two Short Story Acceptances in One Day: Writing Update 11

Howdy Tumblr! So, here’s that promised post on how I got TWO short story acceptances in one day. It’s not a very long one, but I think it’s a fun one. Besides that, it’s also a very general writing update talking about what I’m writing right now and my plans for the future. There probably won’t be much to talk about on the second front since I’ll probably be on vacation when you’re reading this but that doesn’t mean there won’t be anything to update ya’ll on and plan for.

Enough waffling. On with the post.

Novels:

I mentioned in my last post that I’m working on a book for this creative writing summer camp. By the time this post is made public, I’ll have a little over a thousand words finished and workshopped. I don’t want to say more than that since I don’t want to hype up my followers for a project that may not ever come to fruition. It may be something I keep working on in a creative writing class though, so stay tuned for that!

Short Fiction:

Just like the title said, this update will be mostly focused on how I got two short story acceptances in one day in late July. It’ll likely already be August when you’re reading this but I’m only writing this a day after the fact. With all that rambling out of the way, let’s jump right in!

So the day before I got the acceptances, I on a whim decided to submit a story that I wrote back in Freshman year of high school BC (before Covid) cause it was a piece I was still really proud of and that really meant a lot to me since it was complimented by an English teacher I really liked who was also one of the few people outside my family to really read and review my work. I’d already submitted the story to two different magazines two days prior, but I felt like this magazine vibed more with the piece. So, I submitted the piece and didn’t think nothing of it…

Until later that afternoon when the itch to submit was still scratching my back.

Randomly, I decided to finish and hastily edit a flash piece I wrote for the TYWI discord young writer’s camp and submitted to two different magazines. Neither were teen magazines—both run by and for adult writers. I didn’t expect much from either considering I was competing with more experienced adults. I submitted mostly because their vibes sorta fit my piece and their max word count was a thousand (mine was 890). I didn’t expect that hear a response at all, and if I did, I expected rejection.

I heard back the very next day.

The first magazine I got accepted by was The Graveyard Zine, to whom I submitted the story from Freshman year. I did kinda expect this acceptance since they were a teen run magazine and kinda new kids on the block in the literary world. They don’t have that many pieces on their site yet, so I think they were more willing to take a chance on a story that was just as new and rough around the edges as they were (in a good way—seriously, please support this magazine!).

I’d gotten that acceptance in the early morning, so I was still pretty groggy and made a post about it on my Instagram without much fanfare (besides the magazine editors adding me to their story which was really sweet :3).

I didn’t really expect any more good news that day. Then, at exactly 9:05 AM, I received an email from Rhodora Magazine (one of the magazines I submitted the second story too).

This acceptance letter may just be the NICEST acceptance letter I’ve ever received from a literary magazine, ever. I’ve never received such high praise of my work from LITERAL STRANGERS who have no reason to exult me or keep my feelings in mind. I have a snippet of the email itself in the actual post I made on this story, which will be coming out when the piece is actually published sometime in September, but—to give a quick sneak peak—they call my story emotional, wonderful, and impressive.

So yeah, I was both celebrating and in complete disbelief, especially when I realized that, because I submitted this story in the evening and I received my acceptance at nine, the editors of the magazine for the second story didn’t even wait half a day before sending me my acceptance. It was wild!

A day later (which is actually when I’m writing this) after having finished both short story introductions, I decided to take a quick looks at the bios of the people submitting to Rhodora Magazine. All of the writers were adults. The youngest was literally eighteen. That wasn’t surprising, nor was it what stood out to me. What was surprising was the content of the bios themselves. Most were college educated, either majoring in creative writing or a related field, with many having MFAs. Most also had previous publications as well. Many were also editors themselves, or winners of important-sounding writing awards (or at least nominated for them).

Reading this, you might expect me to say that it made me feel major imposter syndrome, but it was actually the opposite. Reading also those bios and seeing all those accomplishments… it made my heart swell with pride. All these amazing writers with all these amazing stories… and the editors of this magazine think I’m good enough to be among them. Me, some random teenager from Florida whose barely about to be a Junior! I’m somehow already good enough to be among them!

To anyone who ever submits to a literary magazine and ends up getting published, never get intimidated by the bios or feel any sort of imposter syndrome. They don’t mean you aren’t good enough to be there. They mean that you’re about to rise very high in the world very, very soon.

You are a pre-successful rockstar (to quote Jason Mendoza)

That’s all for now. See you next week Tumblr!

[fieryanmitsu]

The Heart-Pounding Sunrise Trek of Bonding | A3! | “Take the Stage” Fanzine

I am very honoured to announce that I am one of the contributors for the recently released A3! Take the Stage Fanzine! It was such a great experience working with so many talented artists and writers! Everyone's pieces turned out AMAZING, and I would highly recommend to check out the full zine! The fanzine can be downloaded for free here!

And, now that the zine has dropped, I'm able to share my piece with you all here! This story is based on the "Campfire Bonds" event and stars Muku and Citron as the focal characters!

Please enjoy~!

THE HEART-POUNDING SUNRISE TREK OF BONDING

THEME: “Campfire Bonds” event

CHARACTERS: Muku Sakisaka, Citron, Sakuya Sakuma, Masumi Usui, Tsuzuru Minagi, Itaru Chigasaki, Tenma Sumeragi, Yuki Rurikawa, Misumi Ikaruga, Kazunari Miyoshi & Izumi Tachibana

My fanfic masterpost: Here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu

Muku stared intensely at his phone as he checked for the umpteenth time that he had set his alarm properly. Seeing that the numbers really did read ‘3:00am’, he locked his phone and placed it beside his pillow. 

“Ugh. I swear I can still taste the tabasco in my mouth even though I brushed my teeth,” Tenma groaned as he entered the tent.

“Did anyone get a normal chocolate for the s’mores?” asked Kazunari, looking up from his phone. 

“Izumi liked hers!” Misumi chimed in.

“That’s just because she’s a crazy Currian! No one would normally like a curry-flavoured chocolate,” Yuki snapped back.

“Anyway, everyone’s here, right? I’m gonna turn off the lights,” Tenma announced. “We have to get up early tomorrow, so we should sleep now.”

A flurry of mumbled goodnights flew around the tent as their leader turned off the lamp. Before long, the air was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and light snoring. 

However, sleep continued to elude Muku as he stared fretfully at the ceiling of the tent—his brain whirring with his anxieties. Though the Summer Troupe’s first two plays had gone well, deep down, Muku felt that he had barely squeaked by with his performances. He knew that he was still the weakest link, and was terrified of dragging everyone else down. 

Just once, Muku wished he could give back to the ones who continually helped him so much. But, he didn’t even have any special skills—like Yuki or Kazunari—that he could put to use for the Summer Troupe or the Mankai Company. 

So, when Izumi had first announced this training camp, Muku had immediately volunteered to be one of the organizers, even though he had never taken on such a role before. At the time, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity to prove himself and be helpful to the others. Surely, even someone as untalented as him could manage to do this much.

Inspired by a scene out of a shoujo manga, Muku had manically researched to formulate a grand plan. First, they would strengthen their bonds as they hiked side-by-side through bountiful nature. Then, they would share a heart-racing special moment together as the rising sun etched its image into their memories. Plus, with the fresh mountain air, he was sure they would get more mileage out of their vocal exercises. 

However, when they had gathered to discuss the itinerary, his excitement had quickly been extinguished when his plan had been met with unenthusiastic faces. Some of the Company members hadn’t seemed interested in witnessing the sunrise, and many others had groaned about the early start time. 

After the meeting, Citron had clapped him on the shoulders, looked him in the eyes with a mysterious, all-knowing smile and said: “Do not worry, Muku! Your idea is most wonderful! Everyone will be super duper happy when they see the sun grating them! I will make sure of it—trust me!”

Though his brain continued to worry and fret, Muku clung to the words and reassuring grin that the Zahran man had given him that day and allowed the darkness to finally lull him to sleep…

The next morning, with much struggle—along with Citron banging some pots and pans together—the two organizers managed to wake up their fellow troupe members and line them up outside of their tents. Though, they may as well have still been laying in their sleeping bags. Masumi was draped on top of Tsuzuru’s back, fast asleep. Itaru was crouched on the ground, muttering to himself with a half-dead expression on his face. Even the ever-chipper Kazunari had his chin propped on Misumi’s shoulder, both of them nodding off despite being on their feet.

Citron came to stand beside Muku and nudged him gently. With a gulp, the pink-haired boy mustered all of his courage and stood up as straight and tall as he could manage.

“G-Good morning, everyone! Thanks for waking up so early to join us for the first item on our itinerary today: the ‘Heart-Pounding Sunrise Trek of Bonding!’” Muku announced. “I know that it’s silly to want to follow someone who’s more annoying than the itchiest bite from a mosquito that arrived earlier than the usual mosquito season—”

“Muku, literally no one said that,” Yuki interrupted with a sigh. “Just lead the way.”

“O-Oh right! S-Sorry!” Muku responded, snapping out of his rant. “P-please follow me and watch your step!”

As Muku led the way to the forest trail, with the others shuffling groggily behind him, he couldn’t help but cringe as he heard someone yawn loudly and another person let out a groan.

“Ugh, this sucks…” 

“Masumi, stop it! The Director wouldn’t be happy to hear you say that,” Sakuya protested in a hushed tone. “Look! She’s enjoying herself, so you should copy her.”

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all… Muku thought to himself, worrying at his bottom lip.

“Muku, why don’t you tell everyone about the path?” Citron suddenly said from behind him. “Did you not do lots of the research?”

“Really, Mukkun?” Kazunari asked, perking up and looking more awake than earlier. 

“O-Oh, yes! Apparently, this path dates back to the Sengoku era. Monks used it as part of a pilgrimage route and this campsite actually used to be an aesthetic training ground,” Muku explained.

“That’s actually really cool,” Tsuzuru remarked. “Who knew that there was so much history in a place like this!”

“Ah! That signpost there marks the quarter-way point! We can take a quick rest here!” Muku explained, noticing that they had lost a few members. 

“I-I can’t go on…” Itaru wheezed as he finally caught up to the others several minutes later.

“C’mon Itaru, we’re almost there! You can do it!” Izumi chirped encouragingly, passing the salaryman a bottle of water.

“It’s okay, Itaru! You will soon have your senses delighted by a surprise up ahead! Tell them about it, Muku,” Citron implored.

“Y-Yes! Ummm… Just down this path is a beautiful waterfall that the monks used as part of their training,” Muku responded, taking the older man’s cue. “I… I actually purposely picked this path because it would take us by the waterfall. Legend says that, if you make a wish there, your deepest desires will come true! So, I thought that you would really like to see that, Itaru! Maybe it’ll help with your next gacha pull in your games!!”

“Seriously? Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

Muku felt his heart flutter as the others started chattering excitedly about what wishes they would make. With this renewed vigour, their group continued on their hike, making a stop at the wish-granting waterfall on the way. 

Then, almost an hour after they had left their campsite, Muku spotted the sign marking their final destination.

“We’re here, everyone!”

There was a collective sigh of relief as the members of the Mankai Company cleared the last steps and planted their feet on the plateau. However, their mutters quickly died in their throats as they came face-to-face with the view before them. A forest of trees spread out endlessly ahead, surrounded on both sides by jagged cliffs. The sun peeked above the horizon of the valley and the sky was dyed a gorgeous blend of soft oranges, pinks and straggling blues.

“Amazing!” Sakuya breathed softly. “This is beautiful, Muku!”

“Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe it!!” Kazunari added, immediately taking out his phone.

“You did good, Muku. Here’s a triangle!” Misumi said with a smile, handing the pink-haired boy a smooth and shiny triangular-shaped rock.

“Yeah… It made waking up worth it,” Masumi murmured, showing a rare smile.

“This was great, Muku. Thanks for planning this for us,” Tenma said, punching him lightly in the arm.

“Yeah, seriously! I’m so glad that someone was able to plan a normal activity for this training camp. Unlike a certain someone’s crazy ‘Russian Roulette S’mores’ idea,” Tsuzuru said with a sigh, throwing a baleful glare at Citron.

“Oh, Tsuzuru! You wound me! I put so much thought into making an unforgiveable event for everyone!”

“I think you mean ‘unforgettable’,” Itaru piped in.

“Look here, it’s not ‘Russian Roulette’ if all of the options are weird!” Tsuzuru exclaimed in exasperation.

“No kidding! I can’t believe I had to eat that awful wasabi chocolate because of you! I thought my mouth was on fire!” Yuki added, jabbing a finger into Citron’s chest angrily. “You’re lucky this sunrise made up for that atrocious game!”

As Citron dramatically crumpled to the ground from Yuki’s attack, a hand clutched over his heart, he turned his head towards Muku and shot him a wink.

At that moment, Muku felt a rush of warmth surge out of his chest and envelope the rest of his body. As he suppressed the tears prickling behind his eyes, Muku thought that he could now truly understand the meaning behind all of those times his shojo manga had compared someone’s smile to the brightness of the sun.

Writing this story was such a fun challenge for me! I had to work with a word count restriction, but I also wanted to make sure I somehow included every other character from the event — so it was definitely a juggling act, haha! It was also my first time writing about both Muku and Citron, so that was a new challenge in itself. Especially since I wanted to make sure I did two of my favourite characters justice!! In the end, I'm really happy I had the opportunity to write this and am so thankful that I was able to be part of this zine! Again, do check out the full zine if you have a chance!|

As always, thank you for reading and feel free to leave a comment if you have any thoughts!! Any reblogs are always appreciated!!

-Anmitsu