#such cool stickers i have a problem knowing where to stick them

[roadbread]

Yay!! More stickers have arrived!!! And a great lil' will doodle!!

I'm honestly really glad these weren't sent out sooner because we've been having quite a bit of snow the past month or so and my mailbox got hit by a plow truck twice and I would have been a bit sad to loose these down the street/to the weather, etc.

To get your own awesome stickers, check out @potato-lord-but-not 's stuff they have a lot of cool stickers for sale

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Hiiii! I loved ur Hermes kid!

Could I ask for a male son of Dionysus x either Leo or nico?

Sorry if I got ya wrong and don’t feel pressured or anything!

Have a lovely day!

When there isn't a lot of info in an ask I kinda have to make the reader a personality so that it isn't too bland too read so sorry to y'all that aren't like this <3

Redecoration---Nico di Angelo x Son of Dionysus

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico had been glaring at the roof of skulls for a solid ten minutes, sort of hoping the hatred in his eyes would just poof them out of existence, when someone finally showed up. 

Apparently after an incident in the Aphrodite cabin, people weren’t allowed to just grab a bucket of paint and some new furniture to fuck around and find out, which was why Nico had been sent someone to help him fix the mess that was the Hades cabin.

Apart from the hundred skulls hot glue gunned to the rood, the beds were wooden coffins, the lamps were ancient looking chandeliers, and all of the walls were a dark ugly gray, like there was a serious mold problem. Now that he thought about it, the color might actually be a mold problem. 

“Never fear, goth! For I am here!” 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Nico took a deep breath and turned around, obsidian eyes already narrowed with dislike as he took in the taller boy trotting over. He was holding a crate in his arms, filled with color swatches and chunks of fabrics, magazines sticking out of the top. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who needs redecorating, right?” The boy asked, already letting himself into the dim cabin that smelt of rich dark chocolate for some reason. “Yeah… no offense but we have to fix this, even if you're the wrong person.” 

Nico felt a sudden need to defend the atrocious carpet and bat shaped door knocker from this boy, who was wearing a maroon shirt picturing a glass of wine. “I was eight.” 

“No shame here, everyone makes bad decisions.”

There didn’t seem to be any point arguing with this boy, who had already dumped the box of supplies on one of the coffin bed lids, and was staring around at the dark cabin, hands on his hips. 

Nico just followed him inside, shoving his hands into the slightly ripped pockets of his aviator jacket. He peered into the cardboard box, which was promptly tipped out onto the ground. He watched with a frown as the son of Mr D sat on the carpet and began rifling through the empty notebooks and cut up magazines. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, scrapbooking? We can’t just start painting the walls yellow yet, you have to plan this stuff out, goth.” He said, as if it was obvious. Then he smirked. “You don’t like arts and crafts?”

Nico’s frown deepened, but he couldn’t let this mildly infuriating boy with surprisingly cool bracelets upstage him. “I love arts and crafts.”

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and pulled out a leather bound book containing a few stickers and a strip of torn paper where a page had been pulled out. “Are you just gonna stand there in the corner and be grumpy?... That wasn’t sarcasm, you can if you want, I was just checking.”

Nico wasn’t an asshole, of course he was going to help. Still, he had to glare at the boy for that comment. Then he sat down and opened one of the magazines, which was featuring a life sized Barbie Dream House bed frame, fluffy pillows included. He flicked the page over with a grimace.

“So, what kinda vibe are we going for?”

“What?”

“I’m assuming you're sick of Dracula,” he said, waving his arms at the general doom and gloom around them. “So what aesthetic are we replacing it with?”

Nico didn’t want to admit he hadn’t planned this far into the venture, he’d really just been hoping he could repaint the walls, or maybe burn the whole thing down and start over. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Okay, well… I’m assuming you wanna keep it edgy, but seriously? A roof of skulls? You’re not a caveman. Maybe we should go with an Addams family style.” He shivered. “With less spiderwebs and disembodied hands. “ 

Ah, another gap in his modern education. “What’s an Addams family?” 

All Nico got in return was a gaping mouth and wide eyes. “How do you not- okay, I’m making you watch the entire timeline later, but for now we need to pick a color scheme.” 

Nico opened his mouth.

“Not black.”

Nico closed his mouth.

“Obviously there’ll be lots of black, but you need another color to fit with it, something dark and scary but colorful.” He pulled out a binder of color swatches, and flipped it open, skimming the pages of baby blues and lavenders. “Maybe dark green, or...”

“Red.” Nico said, peering over at the pages of ruby and scarlet. He pointed to the dark one, which had a little title below, ‘Blood red’. It was a little on brand, but it was better than ‘Crimson Tide’. 

“Oooh, nice. If we keep the walls black, and pull up the black carpet, there’ll be floorboards underneath.” He started to ramble, ripping a color swatch out of the binder and gluing it into the leather bound book. He glanced around at the musty cabin. 

“We can get a red rug for the middle of the cabin, and definitely new beds, but if we get Drew to refurbish the chandeliers they’ll look great. Oh, and the coffin bed frames could be a bookshelf if we get the mattress out and ask Nyssa to put some shelves in. Do you read? Because otherwise it’s sort of pointless. But so are the skulls on the roof, so…”

“You’re good at this.” 

It took Nico a moment to realize what he’d just blurted, and when he did the warmth was already in his cheeks. He’d only been a little caught up in watching the son of Dionysus’s eyes sparkle as he talked, pointing to different parts of the cabin, and somehow ruined it. “I mean, you just sound like you’ve, you know, done this a lot.”

The glimmer in their eye didn’t fade, they only grinned harder. “I have. A lot. It’s fun!”

“I suppose so,” Nico said, his lips twitching, and opened another magazine. He skipped a page on clawfoot bathtubs [There was already a white one with gold trim in the bathroom]. There was a large heart shaped mirror, He ignored that too, and found a simple bedframe, painted black. He held it out gingerly. “What about this one?”

“Yes! Good job.” He said, snipping it out of the magazine quickly, and sticking it next to a picture of a glass chandelier. “If you’ve got a simple bed, we could find a zebra print blanket, they always look good with black and red, as long as you don’t have, like, leopard print.”

“I thought you’d like leopard print?”

“And I thought you’d like skulls on your roof and coffin shaped beds,” he teased, with a smug little smile. Nico rolled his eyes, and picked out a strip of dark red fabric, passing it over.

He shook some glitter from his hands, there seemed to be piles of it in the box. “It’s a little over the top, but it’s not as bad as Jason’s cabin. It’s just rock. Everywhere. And a giant statue of his father.”

“Maybe he can be my next client,” he hummed, wiping glue from his fingers onto the molding carpet beneath them. A few shards of rounded glass were taped to the pages of the scrapbook, shining in the light of the dusty stained chandeliers. 

Nico wanted to object. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want the boy in front of him with glitter on his cheekbones and scissors in his hands to be cutting out pictures and teasing someone else. Instead he looked away, feeling something in his chest surge, something like fear. Fear of what, he didn’t know, but he cleared his throat and moved on.

“Don’t you have a sister too?”

The fear surged back forwards and Nico whipped around, his tone sharp. “What?”

“The roman one, I swear I saw her the other day, when Reyna visited to plan something or other.” he said casually, not seeing the pale tinge to Nico’s face. “With the overalls and the bulldog?”

“That’s Frank,” Nico said, his shoulder sinking with relief. 

“No, I’m pretty sure it was Hazel, she had those light up sketchers, with the little wheels on the bottom.” He said, somehow with a moon shaped sticker on his nose as he stuck little cut out paper skulls around the four page collage. 

“Frank’s the bulldog, he can turn into animals.” Nico had a strange urge to reach out and press the sticker on his nose, so instead he held his hands tightly in his lap. 

“Well, is there something Hazel’d like in the cabin when she visits? Does she read?” 

Nico sighed, and reached back for the magazine he discarded. He shook it open, cut outs of fluffy teddies falling into his lap. He found the page with the heart shaped bathroom mirror and ripped it out carefully. He could take a few hearts in his cabin if Hazel would like them. “This one.”

“Oh, that one's cute, Nyssa could totally make it.”

“I can ask Leo, he owes me a favor.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I haven't killed him yet.” 

                                  »»————-　★　————-««

Nico pressed down the front of his shirt. It was a black Camp Halfblood shirt, which he’d gotten from Piper after the Aphrodite cabin had started making shirts in other colors. Apparently there were only so many outfits you could wear with orange. 

Black goes with everything though, so it wasn’t a problem for him. 

He made his bed [closed the lid of the coffin] and dragged the last of the furniture not nailed to the ground out onto the little deck all of the cabins had. His decking only had a few pairs of shoes and a pot of dead roses he’d never bothered to keep alive. Maybe he’d have another go. 

Drew had taken the chandeliers already, to polish them and whatnot, so he only had to wait for his assigned son of Dionysus to show up, and they could start hunting for zebra print blankets and ripping skulls off the ceiling. What fun. 

When he still hadn’t shown up, Nico finished pulling all of the previously made bedding from the coffins and dumping it to the side so that Leo could turn it to a bookshelf [He could read, he just had dyslexia thank you very much], and then set off to the Dionysus cabin. It was easy to find, the only male god on the female side, with trelice’s of ivy decorating the whitewashed walls and a grumpy looking leopard snoozing on the purple swinging chair out the front of the small cabin.

He didn’t really want to knock, but he was sure someone would report him for standing around too menacingly if he just waited. He was saved from indecision when the door opened, revealing a tall sandy haired boy.

“You’re the goth, aren’t you?” Pollux sniffed, his nose red. “We can’t help today, but Butch is free, he can do some heavy lifting, and I’m sure Drew’ll criticize your style if you ask nicely enough.” 

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“I mean,” Pollux started, rubbing his eyes, and Nico only then realized he was still wearing his pajamas. They had an elongated cartoon owl sticking out of a doorway on it. “Skulls on the ceiling is a bit much, and everyone think you’re a vamp-”

“I meant with you guys, not my style,” Nico interrupted, his eyes narrowed.”

“Someone, decided to go visit Lou Ellen even though we all know she has a cold, and now I have it-” Pollux was cut off once again, his mockingly loud voice reaching the people inside. 

“I’m sorry I was concerned for my friend, she wanted soup!”

“She always wants soup!” Pollulx yelled back, and Nico moved past the older child of Dionysus, slipping off his shoes and letting himself into the cabin. 

There was nasally muttering behind him and the door slid shut. Nico peered around, and saw a bundle of fluffy blankets on a couch, only a sneezing head poking out the top. “Why did you get sick?”

“I mean it wasn’t really on purpose,” he mumbled back, wiping his nose with a tissue and sinking back into his cocoon. “I can’t help today, but-”

“I don’t care,” Nico started, and plopped down on the white couch, avoiding a deep red stain that could be alcohol or blood. He couldn’t tell. He also didn’t know how to say he’d rather sleep in the coffin again then have to spend the day with someone else. 

He sniffed, falling sideways a little on the couch and squinting at the square tv, which was showing some old cartoon about cavemen. “Mkay, well you should probably go if you don’t wanna get sick.”

Nico thought for a moment, trying not to focus on how much he wanted to scoop up the bundle of blankets in his arms far too skinny for that sort of stuff. “Why don’t we watch ‘an Adam family’?

He got watery wide eyes in return and a toothy grin, “wait really?”

“No. If I was making a joke it’d be funnier than that.”

“Okay, let’s watch it,” he said, hopping off the couch and moving to a box of DVDs with a lot of energy for someone so sick. “And it’s the Addams family, goth. You have to learn the basics of this culture if you’re gonna have coffin bookshelves.”

He fiddled around with the tv and then a grainy black and white intro came on, tinny music over the top. Nico watched as he danced to the theme tune in his blanket burrito, all the way back to the couch, where he landed, coughing and winded. Nico raised an eyebrow. “I could’ve done that, you’re sick.”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” he mumbled, tucking the fluffy socks on his feet up onto the white couch and wiggling with excitement. Nico watched him for a moment, and then turned back to the TV, feeling his lips twitch into a grin.

Duh duh duh duh, click click. Duh duh duh duh, click click.

Their creepy and they're kooky-

                                      »»————-　★　————-««

“Neeks, this mirror is so cute!”

“You’re welcome,” Nico muttered, rubbing his nose and rolling over, pulling the zebra print doona cover further over his head. 

He heard Hazel’s wheelie shoes click along the floorboards and she gilded out of the bathroom. When he peered out, her hair was in bunchies and she was pulling a purple hoodie over her head. “It’s so much nicer in here now, but how did you get sick redecorating?”

“Uhm..There was a lot of dust. I might be allergic?” 

The door slammed open, the clear chandelier hanging from the roof shaking as Nyssa trudged in, her work boots leaving mud on the fluffy blood red rug. She was holding the glitter covered scrapbook in her gloved hands. 

“So, I know I’m supposed to make everything in this, but what am I supposed to do with the polaroid of you kissing Mr D ‘s kid?”

                       »»————-　★　————-««

[bnnuy-wabbit]

PIN TUTORIAL.

So. You want pins of your favorite band/cartoon/oc/funny thing to put on backpacks/jackets/pants BUT you're broke and/or have no means to Acquire Pins. You find yourself thinking must Man do i need to make these???? And the answer is yes. Sadly, one either needs to purchase items to have items or make items to have items. I know, i know. It's unfair. It'll be alright, though. Fear not, beloved internet user, for i have The Easy Solution to Your Problem. For thee. Let me hold your hand passionately.

What you'll need is:

Safety Pins - you can buy them for hella cheap in packages with Many Of Them. I'm probably not from your country so you'll have to look for them yourself online or in a store) Pair of Scissors - for cuttin' Plastic - Any kind as long as it's thick enough. reutilize something that would go to the trash, if you can. I'm using an old fanta bottle i stole from dad's pepper pot from the garden. you could also used those hard ish plastics from boxes too or packages. It doesn't have to be transparent, but that's recommended. Some sort of Glue - I recommend hot glue. I did not, however, have hot glue, so I used a two-part resin for fixing pipes instead. If it works it works. You can use anything as long as it secures the safety pin to the plastic. The Pin Content - I'm using STICKERS. i bought 200 6 months ago and have many left overs. You could also use a drawing you made or a cutout from a magazine and tape it to the plastic with transparent packaging tape.

That's all you need. However, if you'd like to make your life a bit easier, it'd be nice to have in hand:

tape - for tapin' razorblade - for scrapin' pen - for Penin'

See. easy. doesn't need a lot. I must say that since i'm a craftsperson i have More Materials laying about than the average arguably human population, but that's pretty much it.

tutorial with pictures continues under the read more. selfie under read more too with them on a cool jacket. here are the results so you know what you're getting into. Ooooo you want to make pins so bad oooooooo

TLDR: glue Pin Content onto the plastic, glue the safety pin to that next. Pic IDs added.

STEP 1.

Stick the thing you want to pin on the plastic. I'm using stickers, but you can use the non adhesive stuff. You can tape a piece of paper to the plastic with transparent duct tape. Just make sure to leave a margin on all sides.

STEP 2.

turn the plastic sheet around. Mark where the Up part of the sticker is and where you want the safety pins to go. This part is optional, but it helps making sure you're not going to put the pins in the wrong position. I didn't do it on my last batch and they turned out fine.

STEP 3.

Secure the plastic to your work surface using tape to keep it still while you work. Again, optional, but it'll help keep the thing straight if your plastic is bent like mine.

STEP 4.

Scratch the surface of the plastic so whatever gluing method you use actually works. The surface shouldn't be smooth or else it'll be hard to glue. You can use anything to scratch it. I did a criss cross pattern as shown in the picture.

STEP 5.

Glue the pins to the scratched surface.

In my case it was done in two steps since the resin needed time to dry. I made a hard base to secure the pin and waited for two hours for that to dry. Then i put a small layer of resin over the part of the safety pin that doesn't open and waited for it to dry again.

This would be miles easier if you used hot glue. Just hot glue the pin to the plastic, making sure to keep the movable part free.

STEP 6.

Cut the pins! If you taped them to the plastic instead of using premade stickers then make sure to leave more plastic to the sides. so it doesn't fall off. They're done. You now have pins.

If you want to go above and beyond, you can cover the pin with a thin layer of clear nail polish to make it impermeable and more durable, but i'm all out of clear nail polish, so i didn't do it.

RESULTS PART 2.

That's it. That's all. Have fun!

[ikimaru]

I ordered a bunch of stuff from your redbubble and they just arrived!! I'm so excited it all looks so cool! only problem is I ordered some stickers and now I have to commit to actually sticking them somewhere 😩 (they're honestly so amazing though I love them so so much)

ohh enjoy ur order! <3 lmaoo I feel, I never know where to put stickers either, I just keep them in a binder

happy you enjoyed them! 🫶

[shaotie]

Where Loyalties Lie - Ch 15: Brotherly ‘Bonding’

~That Evening~

Raph, Mikey, and Donnie were on their way to Hueso’s. It was a cool day, so they were all wearing their fall jackets, and when they got to the alley where the portal was, they saw April leaning against the brick wall with her hands in her jacket pockets - keeping them warm - waiting for them.

“Did you pay the bill?” was Donnie’s blunt greeting, mixed in among Raph and Mikey's pleasant ones.

“Yes, but I had to wait for one of those yokai you told me about to come out because the portal wouldn’t open for me,” April said in a very annoyed tone. Donnie seemed unbothered and flatly told her: “I should have done this earlier but I’ll fix that now.”

With a quick click at his wrist tech, Donnie sent the command to April’s Genius Build™ wrist tech that would let her open Hueso’s restaurant portal. Her tech glowed green, indicating the command was received, but she ignored it to yell at Donnie:

“Darn right you should've done that earlier and thanks a lot for sticking me with the tip!” “You made April pay the tip?” Raph asked in his firm big brother ‘you should know better’ voice. Donnie once again seemed unbothered and calmly replied: “Tips are unnecessary and an insult. If the business owner can’t be bothered to pay their staff enough to live on, that shouldn't be my problem.”

Raph thrust a finger at Donnie’s chest and complained: “It’s gonna be your problem from now on ‘cause if I ever catch you not tipping again I’ll sic Dr. Feelings on you!” 

Mikey smugly and emphatically nodded his head in agreement before saying: “Ah yeah! Dr. Feelings already has a slideshow prepared for just such an occasion.” 

“Dr. Feelings?” Donnie asked skeptically. Then he used air quotes when he commented: “I thought you were ‘Dr. Delicate Touch’.”

Mikey got a menacing look that managed to send a chill down Dee’s spine, and where did that shadow across his face come from!? “Dr. Delicate Touch feels nothing,” he bluntly replied in a tone as creepy as his facial expression.

“Oookay, now that that’s out of the way, how much do I owe you to make up the deficit?” Donnie asked April, getting back on subject. Mikey took out the stickers he made for Leo to show them off to Raph, and they conversed while April and Donnie settled the matter of payment.

“Twenty bucks,” April told him. “Twenty bucks!?” Donnie exclaimed. “That’s a fifty three point three three percent tip!” “I didn’t do this for free, now pay up, cheapskate,” April replied in her no nonsense 'you're already on my bad side so you better not talk back’ tone of voice.

“Sigh,” was the only reply Donnie gave. He resigned to his fate, a metal mech claw came out of his tech shell, and dropped his wallet into his hand. When he opened it to reveal a big wad of cash inside, April was unsurprised because Donnie kept her in the loop about his online Genius Build Apparel store; whereas Raph and Mikey had been kept in the dark (for obvious reasons. If they knew how much he made they’d make him pay for their pizza every week!). They abruptly stopped their conversation to stare wide-eyed at the big wad of cash in Donnie’s wallet.

“Where’d you get all the cash, Don!?” Raph demanded. “Uhhh, don’t worry about it,” Donnie calmly replied. He handed the twenty out to April, who took it with a smile and a polite (but still somehow smug): “Thank you,” and pocketed it. Donnie’s mech claw came out to put his wallet away, but before he handed it over he stopped because Raph firmly asked: “How about sharing the wealth, Don?”

Donnie factually (and kind of smugly) replied: “If you would like more than what Pápá’s weekly allowance supplies then I suggest you work for it online like moi.” “Can I have some?” Mikey asked sweetly and starry-eyed while gazing at the many bills in Dee’s wallet.

Raph let out an incensed huff when Donnie abruptly pulled out four twenties to hand over to his little brother, before putting his wallet away. And when Raph jealously glared at Mikey, the shorter 'baby brother' of the family stuck his tongue out at him before putting the cash away in a belt pouch.

Instead of leaving like Donnie expected, April stuck her hands back in her pockets and asked: “So when do I get to meet this new brother of yours?” “Not today,” Donnie bluntly replied. “Aw come on Dee! I’m family too! I wanna meet him just as bad as you three.”

“Once again you already did meet him. Twice to be exact,” Donnie flatly replied, alluding to the argument he had been having with April ever since he informed her of this whole situation.

She lowered her voice and said a sarcastic-sounding: “Swinging a sword at my face and fighting us in a cape and mask is not meeting him.” 

“I saw you two talking over by the teleporting dog, that can hardly be called ‘fighting’,” Donnie factually objected with air quotes. April replied by thrusting a finger at Dee's face and angrily saying: “The 'dog’ is named Mayhem and I’m 'bout ready to fight you if you don’t…” “Don’s right, Pril,” Raph calmly interrupted. “You’re siding with him!?” she exclaimed in a high-pitched tone, while gesturing vividly with both hands at the softshell.

“Listen, this is our first time meeting Leo and…” Raph slapped a hand over Donnie’s mouth when he opened it to object this was technically the third time they all met him. Dee glared at him but didn't try to remove his brother’s hand. “I don’t wanna scare him away before we have a chance to get to know him. He already made it clear he does not want to meet Pops yet. And no offense, but he did try to skewer you with his sword before your do...uh Mayhem got us out. Something tells Raph you're not on his top ten favorites list."

Raph lowered his hand off Donnie’s mouth and Mikey looked up at April to say: “Yeah April, Donnie told us Leo had his back up when it was just the two of them. I don’t wanna blow our chance to get to know our long lost brother.” He gave her his ‘patented’ little brother puppy dog eyes while clasping his hands under his chin like he was begging, and April huffed out a frustrated sigh and grudgingly agreed: “Fine.”

Mikey squealed from excitement and she sternly added: “But let him know I wanna meet him, too.” Raph nervously rubbed the back of his head and replied: “Uh, yeah,” super nervous about introducing his blade-wielding brother to his sister who he attacked - and planning to 'forget' her request.

She looked at him suspiciously before sticking her hands in her pockets again and saying: “I’ll head home before he gets here." She addressed Donnie next, when she sternly added: "But you’re coming over tomorrow night and we’re watching the video from your hidden camera, capiche?” "Why not tonight?" Donnie asked her. "Because I've got a test in the morning, so I can't sleep through biology this time." “Understood, I’ll bring the chips,” Donnie calmly agreed. April blew him a kiss, put her hand back in her pocket, and walked away.

“Did she say hidden camera!?” Mikey exclaimed. "That's what I heard," Raph sternly agreed. Donnie looked down to click at his wrist tech and calmly replied: “I record everything,” like it was common knowledge among the family. Raph gave him his big brother glare but decided to let it go for now.

“This is it! We’re going to meet our brother! I’m so excited! I hope he likes my stickers!” Mikey blurted out when the portal opened in front of their eyes. “Yeah. Excited,” Raph flatly ‘agreed’ in a somewhat worried tone of voice. Then he clapped his hands together and rubbed them back and forth to warm them up on their way in.

*  *  *

Hueso was back in the kitchen, taking inventory from Bully to know what supplies he needed to add to the next order, when a full-time server came in from the dining area and told him: “Those troublemakers are back, boss.”

Bully abruptly stopped his work and angrily motioned to go out to the dining room, but stopped when Hueso stuck his arm out to block him and firmly said while glaring at the door: “I will deal with those kappa.” ‘Kappa!? Ahhh nooo,’ X moaned in his mind. 

Hueso walked to the kitchen doors but stopped and turned around in surprise when Scrubs called out: “Wait Seňor Hueso!” “What is it, pepino?” the business owner softly asked. “Are those the three from yesterday? The ones in the colorful masks?” “If you are referring to the three who caused problems for you, then yes,” Hueso firmly replied, feeling angry over how those troublemakers upset his new honorary admittance into the restaurant’s misfit family of ruffians.

Hueso was surprised when Scrub’s shoulders dropped and in an almost sad sounding voice he explained: “They weren’t causing problems for me, Seňor. If anything I was causing trouble for them. Please don’t ban them.”

Hueso eyed X up and down, trying to figure him out, and Bully told him: “They skipped on the check, too, kid.” Scrubs took off his dish gloves and laid them on the counter, so water wouldn’t drip on the floor when he stepped closer to Hueso and sincerely offered: “Alright, let me deal with it. I’ll pick up the shifts of the beaver who quit to pay their bill, and work late to make up for it.”

Instead of Hueso replying, Bully lowered his voice so the rest of the kitchen staff wouldn't hear, and bluntly (and discreetly) said: “We all know what happened last time you worked late. Unless you wanna try ‘n tell me you got that black eye falling down the stairs.”

There was no point in trying to hide the truth, so Scrubs looked at Bully and factually told him: “Draxum lifted my curfew,” without giving away any unnecessary details about Draxum wanting him out of his sight and to stay in New York until he was called back. Then he looked at Hueso again and very politely asked: “Please, Seňor Hueso? Let me do this and don’t ban them. At least not yet, but if they cause any more trouble, do what you think is right.”

“Why do you care so much about them, pepino?” Hueso asked with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. X pinched the skin between his eyes, replied: “Because they’re my…” he flopped his hand down, groaned with an eye roll, and sounded disgusted by the word when he spit out: “Brothers.”

“They’re your brothers!?” Bully exclaimed. "I wasn't aware you had any brothers," Hueso added, as the big brute chef wiped off his hands and walked over to the kitchen door to open it and get a good look at the three bozos taking a seat, while Scrubs informed them: “We were . . . separated as babies. I didn’t know if they were still alive or not until a few weeks ago.”

Bully very conspicuously kept his eyes on the three oblivious turtles. The big one was gesturing wildly with his arms and an angry scowl on his face, wrapped up in a heated debate with the one wearing something over his shell; who kept getting distracted by some kind of touchscreen strapped to his wrist that he routinely looked down on to click at. Meanwhile, the bubbly little one kept childishly reaching across the table with a huge grin, saying something to the angry big one while taunting him by waving some twenty dollar bills in his face. And every time his hand was batted away, the little one hugged the other turtle's arm and stuck his tongue out at the big one.

There was one word that came to the hardened ex-pirate brute yokai's mind to aptly describe them. A word he would never consider using to describe the hard-working, ninja warrior, Scrubs:

Immature.

 “Ah, that explains it,” he said with a nod of his head, in reference to Scrubs comment about them being separated early on. Then when he saw Scraps angry face storming toward him, he went back in the kitchen and called out: “Firebat at twelve o’clock!” Hueso knew his chef was referring to an angry Yolinda, and in a voice that sounded so done he asked: “What now?”

After Scraps burst into the kitchen through the ‘in’ door, she pointed back at the dining area with an outstretched arm and told the room in general: “Hey! Those three kappa who skipped out on their bill are back!” Then she aggressively pointed at Bully and demanded: “I saw you looking at them Bully! Why didn’t you kick them out!?”

Yolinda gave Scrubs her attention next when he barked out a single laugh and, in an amused tone of voice and with a smile on his face, he asked her: “Skipped out on the bill, is that all?” She huffed out in annoyance and rested a hand on her hip while he leaned his smug, grinning face in closer to hers and asked with an air of arrogance: “You sure they didn’t throw a drink in your face and threaten to make you eat your own leg?” Hueso and Bully gave each other a passing glance and Chef went back to his work while Yolinda cheekily replied: “I found a turtle recipe online and gave it to Bully this morning. I bet you’d make a reeeal good soup.”

X was completely unphased and replied with his own smug attitude when he responded: “That’s not the only thing I do reeeal good but you’ll never know it.” He continued smiling smugly at her when she clenched her fists and let out a high-pitched whine. “Why you . . . when I . . . You’re gonna regret…” “That’s enough!” Hueso loudly snapped. X’s smug grin abruptly fell when his boss pointed at him and sternly ordered: “You! Get back to work!” “Yes Seňor Hueso,” X humbly and respectfully replied. He immediately turned around to put his dish gloves on and got back to work, while Hueso ordered his adoptive daughter, Yolinda, in the same stern manner: “And you! Serve our new turtle customers rápida!”

X kept diligently working at his station but listened to Yolinda and Hueso’s conversation taking place behind his back. The fox yokai let out an incensed-sounding huff and exclaimed: “You want me to serve those troublemakers!?” “Si Yolinda,” Hueso sternly replied; but there was a softness to his tone. “Why!?” Her high-pitched voice squeaked, making X smile.

Hueso sighed and calmly told her: “They are Scrubs brothers and at his request I will give them one more chance.” A mischievous grin came across Yolinda’s face and she gazed at the back of Scrub’s head. “Brothers, hey? I’ll go serve them right away.” And with a little bounce to her step she gladly left the kitchen to get to know these new customers a little better.

X kept his head down and quietly continued with his washing. He wanted to go out and properly meet with the three turtle brothers he had been separated from for such a long time, but thought it best not to bring up the subject after the harsh way his boss addressed his faux pas when he took his bantering with Yolinda a little too far in front of her ‘Tío Hueso’ and his 'Draxum sanctioned' boss.

Hueso calmly walked up to Scrubs to stand by his side, and X kept his head down and continued on with his work, secretly hoping Hueso wouldn’t decide to inform Draxum of the disrespectful way he behaved right in front of him, all while nervously wondering if the giant terrorworm portal in the back room Hueso told him about was really real.

X continued washing and resisted the urge to tense or squirm away when Hueso put a hand on his shoulder like Draxum often did. But this was different; it wasn’t the abrupt, heavy hand that came with a backhanded compliment immediately followed by a harsh rebuke for a flaw or shortcoming (and sometimes even harsher punishment). Despite being a skeleton yokai, this hand was soft, with a gentle grip, matching the soft gentleness in Hueso’s voice and face when he spoke and X respectfully looked up at him.

“There will be no need for you to pick up Gregory’s shift. A human girl came in earlier and paid on behalf of your three brothers. All is forgiven. This time.”

Scrubs hid his bashful smile by putting his head down and scrubbed at a stubborn piece of stuck-on dirt. In a quiet, soft tone of voice he said: “Thank you Seňor Hueso,” but continued biting his tongue instead of overstepping his place as a slave(-not-slave) by telling his kind boss his brothers were there to meet up with him.

Hueso patted X’s shoulder just as gently and walked away to retire to his office. But before leaving the kitchen, he turned around to look at the back of Scrubs head and softly said: “It’s a shame to have family so close when you’re stuck in here working.” “Yeah,” X quietly replied, not getting the hint.

Hueso and Bully exchanged a knowing glance when the business owner told him: “Check the schedule to find out who’s next on break.” Then he left, and almost immediately after, Bully gruffly told Scrubs: “You heard him! Git outta here, go on your break!” “Break? What’s that?” X asked flatly with his eyes on his work. But he stopped long enough to look up at the brute yokai when Bully raised all three of his left fists to shake them at him and threatened: “It’s when I break your leg and both your arms because you won’t go out there with your family. Now git!”

X gave Bully a huge smile before hastily pulling off his gloves and apron. Before leaving, he went over to the wall opposite where Bully was working, where his cape and satchel were hanging, and took out a tube of reptile lotion. He squeezed out a dollop and put the tube back, but as he was rubbing it into his hands, Bully looked up at him and gasped. But he didn’t let his anxiety over what he saw show through when he pointedly asked Scrubs: “What’s that on your top?” “What?” X looked at his back as best he could, but couldn’t see what Bully was referring to.

Bully wiped off his hands and told Scrubs: “Take off your shirt,” while walking around his counter over to where the turtle was standing on the other side of the room. X turned around to put his back to the wall, and took off his shirt to see what Bully was referring to.

As soon as he saw the small, reddish blotch right in the center of his shirt that lined up with the worst injury on his shell, he groaned out loud. Then he looked up from it to Bully’s face when he stood close to him and nodded his head up once, indicating he wanted to discreetly take a look at Scrub’s shell.

X twisted his torso just far enough to let Bully take a look at it, and after confirming no one was within earshot and all the kitchen staff were busy with their work, he whispered: “You oughta bandage that, kid.” “I can’t. Not until I scrape off the dead scutes, and I can’t do that until they peel more or it’ll make the damage worse. How bad is it?”

The delay in a response was answer enough, but the tension in Bully’s voice confirmed the damage was likely worse than he realized when the hardened ex-pirate who had been around the block quite a few times quietly answered:

“It’s bad.”

Then they continued their conversation in a hushed whisper, starting with 'Scrubs'.

“Is it bleeding?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t doing that before. Is it bad?”

“Nah, just a little.”

“Ok, here.”

X rummaged through his satchel and took out a flat, sealed item labelled ‘disposable shell, horn, and hoof cleansing wipe.’ He handed it to Bully with the instructions: “Don’t wipe it, pat it.”

Bully ripped open the package, took out the wipe, and X winced and grimaced when he felt the cool, wet cloth brushing against the worst part of the second worst injury he ever had in his life.

When he was satisfied the oozing bleed had stopped, Bully informed Scrubs: “It’s good now. Got another shirt in that oversized purse of yours?” “It’s a leather satchel and yeah, I got one.” X reached into his bag, pulled out the second of two oversized blue shirts he owned, and pulled it on over his head before balling up the soiled shirt and stuffing it into the satchel. He showed Bully his carapace again and asked: “Better?” “Yeah, that’s good kid.”

X nodded his head in acknowledgement but decided to put on his dark gray cloak as an extra precaution. While he was doing that, before walking away Bully discreetly told him: “Let me know if you can’t reach all the...what'dyoucall'em? Ah, yeah, scutes, when it comes time to scrap 'em off.” Scrubs gave a brisk nod of his head in agreement and left to go meet up with the family he didn’t know he desperately needed before their first encounter at the shipping docks, when Draxum portalled him in to deal with their annoying meddling.

When Bully pointed out the new issue he had to deal with on his carapace it took the wind out of the ninja turtle’s sails and he came out of the kitchen with much less enthusiasm than he had when he was told to go on break. He looked over where they were sitting, to see Yolinda engaging in conversation with his three brothers.

Leo wasn’t aware that Raph was blushing as he talked to Yolinda, because the fox yokai was blocking his view of the big snapper - who was also sitting back-on to him. It felt like his heart skipped a beat over the prospect of finally getting a chance to bond with the brothers he knew about all his life and hope for years were still alive. He took in a deep breath, quietly reminded himself: “Don’t get too excited dummy, you hardly know them,” and walked over to the booth.

On the way across the big dining area, Yolinda finished chatting with his brothers, and when she passed by on her way to the kitchen with a mischievous grin on her face, X looked at her with suspicious confusion and stopped walking to look behind his back and watch her walk away. Then he shook it off and continued to the booth.

“Leo!”

Mikey was the first to greet him with a big smile and a wave. He was sitting on the inside, facing 'Leo', with Donnie beside him, who was looking down at his phone, and Raph sat opposite them with room for Leo by his right side.

X didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but it appeared as though they were strategically protecting their little brother with their positions. Mikey was on the side closest to the entrance portal, was sitting in the corner furthest away from where Leo was supposed to sit, and Donnie - the one with all the advanced high-tech weaponry in his battle shell - was protectively blocking approach from any potential attacks. And their big brother, Raph, chose to sit on the same side of the slider they didn’t know and already fought twice, putting the big snapper in the best position to react to and block any attacks directed at his younger brothers.

Or perhaps it was nothing more than Donnie wanting to sit straight across from Leo, to get a clear shot for the two tiny hidden cameras X could see carefully concealed on the shoulder clamps of his tech shell, and the rest was a coincidence.

If it was anyone else but his brothers who he was trying to get along with, X would have 'stirred the pot' by emphatically insisting he wanted to sit beside his little brother. Something told him Mikey would eagerly go along with that, but the other two...

Well, that was why stuff like that was so much fun!

He decided against it because he wasn't trying to antagonize them (this time) and he scooched in to sit beside the big snapper, who raised his hand off the table to give him a brief wave with a nervous smile before resting it back on the table again.

Keeping it out so he was ready to defend his brothers from his brother, if necessary.

And what was that smell?

X ignored the unpleasant odor, gave a two-fingered wave with a "hey," for Raph, skipped the pleasantries with the turtle who had his eyes glued to his phone, and gently smiled at the wildly grinning box turtle. 

“Mikey, right?” he asked. “That’s right you remembered! I made you stickers!” Mikey excitedly exclaimed, in a way that seemed like X was a little kid and he was being rewarded with stickers for his 'good deed' of getting the name right. He sat up from surprise when a page full of stickers was shoved across the table at him, and then picked up the sheet to have a good look at the very well done homemade stickers, while Mikey gazed at him, looking kind of like he was a little kid waiting to receive praise from a parental figure for their artwork.

“I don’t know what your favorite color is so I made them in all different colors,” Mikey said in a timid-sounding voice. Then his smile got even bigger when he saw Leo smiling at his handiwork, before saying in an impressed way: “Hey, that’s really something, you made these yourself?” “Yelp! All by myself!” Mikey proudly replied.

Next, the enthusiastic box turtle reached across the table, getting very close to Leo, to point at the bigger stickers on the bottom and said: “Those are shell stickers, like mine!”

When he did so, the bad smell wafting off Raph got worse.

X ignored it again and noticed the bright, triangle sticker adorning the top right of Mikey’s plastron, remembering that was where Donnie told him Mikey had chipped his shell as a child, and he wondered if something like that would be as effective at covering up one of the deepest cracks on his lower plastron left behind by Big Mama’s little ‘gift’.

“Shell stickers, hey? You must be an artist or something.” X laid the sheet down on the table and rested his hand on top of it, like he was protecting it or something foolish like that.

“Mm hmm,” Mikey proudly replied with a big nod of his head. Leo mischievously smiled at the energetic box turtle and asked in an equally mischievous tone of voice: “Ever spray-paint graffetti?” “You bet!”

Raph tensed a little more and the stink got worse.

X was beginning to put the pieces together.

He tested his theory.

“We should get together sometime to stake out places for graffetti art, so you can show off those rad skills you got!” “Yeah!”

X didn’t know how it was possible, but the box turtle’s big smile got even bigger at the same time the bad smell got noticeably worse.

X kept his left hand on the sticker page, casually rested his right arm on the back of the cushion, and said with his ‘signature’ crooked faceman grin: “After we get to know each other better. And maybe these two bozos can tag along.” He used his thumb to point to Donnie and then Raph.

The snapper visibly relaxed and the stink lessened to a more tolerable level, but didn’t go away entirely.

‘Nervous stink, got it,’ X correctly thought to himself, happy to have such an obvious tell to the inner workings of his big brother’s mind.

He was here to get to know them better after all, right? If he happened to do it in ways that protected him from potential future harm, all the better.

“The only bozo here is the one who won’t let a professional look at his injured shell,” Donnie flatly said, all without taking his eyes off his phone until the end, when he looked up to gauge Leo’s reaction.

"Joining the conversation, Don?" Raph asked in a flat, unimpressed tone of voice. Donnie only grunted in reply.

X gave Donnie a crooked smile, gripped the edge of the sticker page to hold it for some sort of sappy, sentimental reason he couldn’t understand, and joked: “Professional? There aren’t many human colleges accepting turtle mutant applicants, are there? Where’d you get your qualifications? Out of a school dumpster?”

Donnie let out an incensed: “Scoff!” literally saying the word instead of scoffing; making X laugh out loud, as Dee sternly continued: “I’ll have you know my qualifications are of the highest…” “Booor-ring!” X loudly interrupted.

Leo glanced at Mikey for a split second when he noticed the little brother of the group snorted out a laugh at his comical reply, but when Raph tensed (and stunk) more for some unknown reason just before Donnie flatly grumbled: “You’re our brother alright,” he was beginning to feel almost as nervous as Raph seemed worried.

So he let out some of that nervous energy by taking out a shuriken with three sharp, curved points, to twirl around in his fingers like a fidget spinner. Mikey looked impressed by this talent and let out an amazed: “Wooow,” confirming X’s initial thought that this brother wore his emotions on his sleeve and there wasn’t much ‘reading between the lines' with him. Raph was definitely more worried than before from the ninja star, and Donnie didn’t give any visible reaction at all beyond briefly glancing at X’s left hand and then putting his eyes down on his phone again.

‘Softy’s pretending to be a tough guy, got it,’ X thought to himself, having interacted with many so-called ‘tough’ yokai on the Hidden City streets.

Those guys who tried to hide who they were behind a fake exterior were always the most fun to annoy, because of the amusing way they fumbled around, trying to conceal their soft and squishy insides by focusing too much attention on keeping up appearances at the slightest provocation.

X noticed the smell of Raph’s nervous stink worsened, and that he very conspicuously was trying to inconspicuously look at the spinning ninja star from the corner of his eye. So he conspicuously looked up at the snapper, abruptly stopped the blade, and put it away.

But the nervous stink remained.

“Ok, so you’re Raph, right big guy?” “Yeah, I’m Raph,” he replied with more tension in his voice than X expected. But the reason for the additional tension was made clear with his next tense and blunt, but somewhat soft, expression: “You, ah, gonna give us back our weapons?”

X gave the snapper a relaxed, crooked grin, and was about to reply when Mikey snapped: “I told you not to ask that yet!” “I concur,” Donnie flatly agreed, without taking his eyes off his phone.

X sat back and watch the sibling banter with amusement that was overshadowed by the anxiety he felt over Raph's anxiety.

“Those are Pops priceless ancestral weapons! We gotta get them back!” Raph sternly argued.

The unspoken tension hanging thick in the air was really starting to get to X, so he interrupted this argument before any good stuff happened by casually saying with a dismissive shrug: “Yeah, I’ll give them back.”

Raph sat up, looking completely shocked. 'What's the matter ninja wannabe, too hard to believe a real ninja can't do a good deed once in a while?' X sarcastically thought but didn't say. 

Raph closed his gaping mouth when he looked at Leo in surprise, and asked a skeptical-sounding: “Really?” “Of course.”

Instead of looking into his big brother’s eyes, Leo averted his gaze by looking down at the stickers while reaching out to hold them again as a sort of comfort item since he didn’t have his ‘fidget spinner’ anymore. But rather than grasp the sheet in his hand, he laid his fingers on it and nervously tapped his index finger on top of a green red-eared slider turtle sticker.

‘Why do I like this so much? It’s stupid! I should chuck them.’

With a dismissive shrug and an overly casual tone, X told Raph: “I was just playing with you when I took them. I would’ve returned them already, but I figured we were even after you stole Draxum’s priceless mystic weapons, and that mystic gem of his.”

Leo glanced knowingly at Donnie, who briefly met his gaze before sticking his eyes back on his phone. Then he looked up to see Raph’s reaction; and the way the snapper frowned and his shoulders dropped just a little told him what he wanted to know.

Raph didn’t want to give up his rad new mystic powers that were brought out by the weapons they stole. And judging by the looks on their faces, none of them wanted to return the stuff they stole.

‘Phew, that was a close one,’ the slave of Baron Draxum thought, knowing there was absolutely no way he could possibly return to his Hidden City bedroom to retrieve those weapons without being forced to face dire consequences for his disobedience.

Leo kept his gaze on the bigger turtle’s softened expression, and casually offered: “Next time we meet up we’ll each bring our priceless weapons and do a little tradeski. You return those crazy rad mystic weapons and I'll give you back your ancestral ones. Deal?”

Raph gazed around at his two brothers, clearly trying to find a way out of this bad deal he somehow got himself into.

X once again sounded overly casual when he gave them a way out.

“Unless you want to keep them. Draxum has a whole room full of weapons and gems, if he wanted his stuff back he would’ve sent me after you by now.”

The stink got worse.

Donnie finally looked up from his phone and asked: "After us?" but he stopped when Mikey nudged him with his elbow and gave him a look X didn't understand; one Donnie knew meant 'Dr. Delicate Touch' was going to have a whole lot to say to him later if he didn't drop this subject and now. So he put his eyes back on his phone.

Leo skipped past that little detail and asked Raph: “Whaddaya say? You keep those rad mystic weapons and I get to keep those awesome authentic Japanese keepsakes. And maybe I'll even help you learn how to use them. Deal?”

This time, Raph gave one firm nod to his two brothers, who each nodded in return, before sticking his hand out and saying: "Deal."

X merely glanced down at the hand. “Great," he said, and Raph reluctantly put it back on the table. "Yeah. Great," he grumbled in agreement, upset that Leo refused to shake his hand in return, and wondering why.

The tension in Raph’s voice was still clearly evident, despite the ‘friendly’ way ‘Leo’ let them keep the weapons they had stolen; and the slider thought sourly: 'I can tell already, nothing I do is ever gonna be good enough for that guy. He’ll never see me as anything but a bad guy.’

But the thing that stung the worst, was that X knew Raph was right about him. He really was a bad guy.

Their server, Yolinda, came by at that moment to take their orders, and X noticed how she looked at Raph, how he blushed in return, and how there was a new type of stink in the air, mingling in with the nervous one already there.

On one hand it was great being around someone who tried to hide their true feelings (like him) to be so easy to read, like an open book, but on the other hand, ‘Pooh-wee! Does this happen often!? And why is she flirting with him!? He is not her type. What is she after?’

X didn’t give away any tells with his body language or facial expression that he was anything but chill; but the nervous way his finger tapped on the sticker sheet gave away his true feelings to anyone observant enough.

Fortunately for him no one here was that observant (or so he thought, underestimating the cleaver fox yokai, yet again).

“What’ll you have, hon?” X’s eyes bounced back and forth between the flirting fox yokai on his right and the reciprocating turtle to his left; but with the way Yolinda kept glancing down at him while she conversed with Raph, X came to the realization she was only flirting with his big brother to make him jealous.

The little bit of smugness X felt over the thought that the spunky fox yokai still liked him after everything he had said to her was overshadowed by the looming tension between him and Raph that was weighing him down. And the anger he felt at the way Yolinda was disturbing his first 'brotherly bonding' moment by faking interest in his sibling, clearly trying to get a rise out of him.

He wanted to wipe that smug grin off her face with a kiss-no, wait!

'How does she keep getting in my head!?'

“What do you want, Leo?”

Mikey’s innocent question snapped X out of the inner workings of his troubled mind and he looked up at his little brother, having every intention of calmly replying that his break was over and he had to get back to work so he could get away from the tension that was about ready to make him pop.

But that… that fox who liked to get under his shell tipped him over the edge when she looked at him with a mischievous grin and asked in an arrogant ‘I got you right where I want you and you know it’ tone of voice: “Yeah, Leo. What do you want?”

“That’s it!”

Leo surprised everyone but Yolinda when he abruptly jumped up (still grasping the sticker sheet in his left hand).

“You…” He pointed at Yolinda and focused on controlling his anger so he didn’t make a scene in Seňor Hueso’s restaurant.

“You’re so . . . you!”

Yolinda huffed out a silent laugh, then calmly looked at Scrubs oldest brother and politely told him: “I’ll come back when you’re ready to order, hon.”

Raph blushed again when he politely agreed, she walked away, and X continued his rant when he pointed at Donnie next - who was looking up at him instead of the phone in his hand for a change.

“You act like you don’t care with your eyes glued to your phone, but you do because you spent all our time together last night griping over my busted shell, and you’re recording my every move with those two cameras hidden in your fake shell.”

Donnie kept his eyes glued to his slider brother; shocked that he knew about the cameras he spent considerable time and effort expertly concealing. He laid his phone down on the table, and asked: “Tech shell, and how did you…” “You.”

X pointed to Raph next, who defensively tensed and instinctively reached for his sheathed tonfa. The skilled ninja noticeably looked down at his big hand, making Raph put it in his lap from embarrassment. Then he narrowed his eyes in anger and coldly said: “You act like I’m nothing more than another bad guy who's gonna attack our brothers the first chance I get. And you…”

Next he looked at Mikey - but not in anger. His little brother, who he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to protect, was silently gazing back up at him with a pair of sad, worried eyes that were on the verge of tearing up. Leo nervously fiddle with the sticker sheet in his hand, noticing that both Raph and the ‘tough guy’ Donnie tensed and watch him intently while he was trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say to their little brother.

And Donnie even put a supportive hand on Mikey's shoulder.

‘Good,’ he thought, ‘they’re protective of him. That’s the way it should be.’

X softened his voice and kindly told Mikey: “You’re genuine. I like that.”

The fact Leo said ‘I like that’ rather than ‘I like you,’ seemed to fly right over Mikey’s head. X decided to let it go, and couldn’t help but smile when Mikey pressed his hands to his cheeks so forcefully it was like he was so overstimulated and needed something to ground him. And he happily (and loudly) exclaimed: “Ohmigosh you like me!? I like you too!”

X was beginning to feel overwhelmed by these strange new emotions (on top of everything else he was dealing with) that energetically happy response elicited, so he averted his eyes from seeing all three of his ‘new’ brothers by looking down at the stickers in his hand, and said a quiet: “Yeah, I know.”

There was a moment of silence that was uncomfortable for everyone but the oblivious, wildly grinning Mikey, and X broke it when he said: “My break’s over," and turned around to leave, but was stopped by Raph's apologetic voice.

"Leo I'm..." "It's fine Raph," X quietly interrupted. He nervously fiddled with the sticker page in his hand and added: "You don't know me. And you're looking out for for your family. That's something I can respect."

Raph motioned to rise.

"But Leo it's..." "I said it's fine!" Leo snapped. Raph sat down again and before walking away, Scrubs glanced up at the back of the maroon fox yokai who was taking someone else’s order, with that cute white tip at the end of her tail bobbing around in the air.

That was when Donnie calmly asked: “When do you want to hang out again?”

X fidgeted with the sticker page in his hand, and he was going to suggest some time next week, but with the way Mikey’s voice sounded so full of hope when he excitedly blurted out: “When do you get off!?” he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint his little brother.

“Mikey,” Raph sternly said through gritted teeth, about ready to scold his brother for not giving Leo time to decide for himself, and figuring he would want a break from them after this whole tense situation. (hopefully not a big break)

“No, it’s ok,” Leo told them, without turning around. “Uh . . .” he suddenly felt uncomfortable telling them when his shift was over, but couldn’t understand why it made him feel so vulnerable.

Just like how he couldn’t understand the many other mismatched emotions swirling around in his head right now.

Still without facing them, in between berating himself with his internal monologue, he told them:

“My shift’s over at ten.”

‘Don’t tell them that!’

“But I stay until the work’s done.”

‘What are you doing!? You don’t want them waiting around for you! Tell them Two. Or better yet, three!’

“I should be out by ten thirty at the latest.”

‘Way to go, dummy.’

“Come by if you want. Or don’t. You know how to reach me. And put down that phone Donnie. You keep looking at it like that you’ll need glasses.”

Donnie kept his head down and calmly replied: “That’s what contacts are for. See you tonight, bro.” ‘Contacts?’ X thought, wondering what they had to do with glasses. The only contacts he knew about were the type of ‘contacts’ Draxum and Big Mama had all over the Hidden City - yokai who kept them informed of the goings on of anyone they wanted.

Like him.

He didn’t bother satisfying his curiosity over this apparent human thing called ‘contacts’ that were somehow related to glasses, and hesitantly replied: “Yeah, see you tonight. . . . Bro.”

X walked away and when he was gone back in the kitchen, Donnie dropped the ‘emotionally unavailable tough guy’ act, slapped his phone on the table, and looked up at his brothers to exclaim: “How does he know these things!?” He immediately began looking down at the clasps on his tech shell, searching for any sign of his cleverly disguised hidden cameras.

"That's what I'm wondering," Raph agreed, pondering over the fact that Leo read him like an open book. He was feeling a mixture of guilt combined with his overprotective worry for the safety of the two brothers he had protectively watched over all his life (Leo was obviously a very skilled fighter, he did attack them on more than one occasion, and his attacks on April could have ended badly. Very, very badly)

“Oh nooo!" Mikey abruptly whined. Raph looked at him but Donnie kept his eyes glued to his wrist tech, this time - inputting ideas floating around in his head for upgrades to his secret, hidden cameras.

Mikey emphatically slapped his arm straight out on the table and leaned over to rest his cheek on it. “I forgot to get his favorite colooor!” he lamented. That was enough to make Raph smile and relax his composure, before he dropped his arms down, straightened his posture a little, and looked up with a blush when their cute, smiling fox server walked up to take their order.

🔹🔹🔹

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🔹Where Loyalties Lie masterpost

[purplewindranger]

Ninja Storm! Ranger Form! (In my continued journey of making everything for my cosplay except the actual cosplay).

(I'm going to be long-winded because this one was fun to do).

Can't become a power ranger without a morpher! Especially when cosplaying as a Ninja Storm ranger, since the morpher is actually a part of the suit. But unlike many of the other morphers throughout the franchise, each one on this team is unique to the ranger. Which meant I had to make some changes.

So the only thing I really needed to change was the power disc. That gold round thing on the top that spins when you activate the morph. For those unfamiliar with the series, the disc is the most unique thing. There are three different morphers among the six rangers, but all six have their own slightly different disc. And I had to make one for a completely original character and theme.

In order to do that, I took a 3D printed disc from a 3D printed morpher I bought off of etsy years ago. These were the first 3D printed things I'd ever bought or painted, and I found out recently that the red one snaps onto the official toy morpher like a perfect replacement, so I thought "perfect!" Did not bother trying this with the yellow or blue one...

I took the blue disc though (which I did not take a picture of prior) because it was the best one suited for modifying. The core rangers of this team have not just elemental themes, but also animal themes, which is represented in the discs. The blue ranger (water/dolphin) has three spokes on it that look like fins. So I took that one, sanded down the original paint job, then added six additional spokes with eva foam. I even turned three of them facing a different direction. Reason being, my original ranger's animal is the fox, and I wanted the nine spokes to represent the nine tails of a kitsune. Then I repainted the whole thing, doing much better than the first time, in my opinion.

Next came the image on the center. I found the image of this fox online. I take no credit for it. (I don't even know if that's the right link, it was the first one when I reverse image searched, and I've had it saved for too long to remember exactly where I got it from. But I'm also not making any money off of this cosplay, so). Very simple, I made it purple and printed it on sticker paper. Less simple was getting it right. The original morpher has the animal image metallic and reflective. Technically the whole thing is, but the animal is more mirror-like. I can't draw to save my life, so cutting out something that small with a knife was not an option either. I tried using holographic sticker paper, and that looked cool, but it just wasn't working for me, since the paper I had displayed the holographic effect in a grid pattern. Then I had a revelation, because this sticker paper actually came with a clear backing layer (which I swapped for white backing originally because I thought I couldn't use it), and I realized, duh... just use the clear backing, and stick the sticker to a metallic paper. Now, it's not as good as it could be, because two layers of clear laminate block some of the reflective nature, but it still looks metallic, and much more like the rest of the discs.

So below is a picture of my completed disc, next to the only disc I have that came with the original morphers. Below that is the 3D printed version of it, from the same set I got the blue one from. And under the finished one is my very first attempt that I tried to make with sculpy and my lackluster drawing skills.

Now you may remember I said that the red 3D printed disc fit on the morpher no problem, snapped on like it was meant to. Yeah, turns out that was the only one of the three that did. The blue one was about a millimeter too small on the back. That's what prompted me to spend far too long when I should have been doing other things, using sandpaper and an exact-o knife to shape the back to make it fit. Never quite got it perfect, but with a little hot glue the disc is in place, and it's not going anywhere when I spin it.

Overall, I'm happy. The only thing I don't like is that I couldn't quite match the color of the disc with the gold on the morpher. But, part of the lore I established for this ranger is that her morpher was made with the design of the Wind Ranger morpher, but cobbled together with spare parts from the Samurai morpher, so maybe it being a little mismatched works. If anything, maybe I should make the whole morpher look a little more mismatched, though I'm not sure the best way to go about that. For now, this will do. I'll add a strap later once the suit starts coming together.

[inconsideratekidney]

10/22/24

good evening y'all,

question (/hot take?): do you prefer toaster ovens or air fryers?

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i'm curious why people put stickers on poles and other public structures. why do they waste good stickers on public spaces? sure i don't want a furry sticker or an anime one, but someone does, so why do people throw them up everywhere? i'd say keep them if you bought them! i know some are advertisements, but i see the same furry wolf sticker every week and do not need to see it. if you like it, keep it or advertise it on your own belongings, not on a public space.

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can you get along with someone who is very similar to you? do you just get someone that is very similar to you or do you clash and butt heads often? for me it depends on the person and the differences (wow, no shit!) but like seriously, yeah.. if our differences are that we both share the same trait, but in different ways, then yeah we're bound to actually be more different, but when we both have the same personality and humor is works out nicely. it's either water and oil or bread and butter. now i want some bread and butter, ooooh, no i want garlic bread.

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how does one achieve that tomboy aesthetic, while also maintaining femininity? i've had this problem since elementary school, believe it or not. i can't tell if people think i have it all together fashion-wise cuz i don't. i often see people wear similar things every day and have a general style--even if that style is extraordinary and extravagant or if they're gender fluid--i still see somewhat of a pattern, but what do they think in their heads? i'm constantly annoyed when a fit doesn't eat and also isn't comfy. it irks me that a fit is just mid and plain and stupid. when i put effort into it and it just looks like i did nothing or like i cant match a style to my body type. i still don't know what my body type is and what style would look best.

i did actually find myself recently thinking of friends and others i see on a regular basis and what clothing i would put them in or what i think would look best on them and it's honestly so much fun, until i can't focus on it for very long. i cannot daydream or fantasize on purpose which is rough when i actually have cool ideas. i wish my brain let me focus on one thing, then i'd have more to write about in this section. womp womp.

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one second i crave chocolate, and the next i crave cheese. what is up with that?? i really want one of those cheddar baked-on bagels ever since i saw someone eat it yesterday. i know i won't like it, but i want to have it. i also really love brie now. has anyone else been getting those cooking videos where all they do basically is bake garlic and smear it on bread with brie or make pesto and smear that on, drizzle a shit ton of olive oil at like every step and tons of salt and pepper at the end. crazy how at one point i saw so many of those videos and they just stick with me. love them, but they do bamboozle me. one account can just label themself as a cooking channel, but mostly post the same garlic recipe five thousand times. i will like every single one they post, but will still be annoyed they know how to get people like me. i am still shaking my fist at the stupid good algorithm.

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i wrote something yesterday while walking to class and added a bit more to it:

something about the warmth of the wind and the liveliness of the swaying flora around summoned her attention to the auburn leaves and singing fronds about. suddenly the depths of the internet mattered no more than benign particles floating just out of sight. her gaze traveled to the earth around calling out for one glimpse of recognition. one existence waiting peacefully to be noticed and appreciated by the bumbling folks who don't often pay any mind to the beauty around them. only then when her breath come back into her body did she realize she had forgotten everything prior to this moment. she took it all in, breathed in and out, and continued about her day.

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it is a struggle for me to not pick up leaves off of the ground lately. i'm kinda addicted to leaves rn. got a whole bunch of them sitting on my window sill..i'm not kidding, there's probably at least 20 or 30. and i love them all. all so beautiful in their own ways even with their "imperfections" which are totally perfect to me. i love every leaf i see on the ground, but especially the vivid orange and red ones. i do love a good brown and green leaf as well tho, gotta represent my favorite colors.

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anyshways, i felt like this was a good blog. it felt genuine and not over the top ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

tldr?: it didn't feel that long, but there's always someone who thinks it is

toaster oven or air fryer?

stickers in public

opposite persons

tomboy/feminine style

food...

something i wrote

leaves!!!

idk if these tldr's are useful or not, but i like summarizing and it keeps me on track knowing i gotta write one so i don't go on and on. maybe i should put these at the beginning, but i don't wanna. >:(

guten tag,

kD >:p

[raddest-laddest]

Hello.

I apologize for the wait. I'm nervous and a slow typer.

I've actually been thinking about making a post all about battling perfectionism while drawing for a while now, so this helped me get some of my thoughts down. It's still messy though. :')

Not all of these tips will apply to you, and that's okay! Try some out and see what sticks.

Uh. Let's begin.

If you're worried about your sketchbook looking ugly, or messy, or whatever..

You may want to dedicate a sketchbook for doodles, studies, and experiments, while keeping another one for finalized drawings. All the uglies will have their own home while keeping their filthy hands away from your prized works.

Having a book for studies—like anatomy, for example—can keep you focused, and less worried about the prettiness of everything while you learn. Judging by your post, you won't have a problem finding sketchbooks to fulfill certain purposes.

Now, how do we start a new sketchbook?

The blank pages of a new book are always scary, but not always for the same reason. What's keeping you from drawing in it?

Are you hoping to have a fantastic drawing on the first page to start off the book?

That's cool, but it adds a lot of pressure on you. What if you mess up? There's only one first page in every book.

If you really want something to show off your wild artistic skills right away, flip to the next page—or use your doodle book—and do some practice drawings for your first page. Create thumbnails, plan out where everything will go. If you end up liking a sketch, draw in confidence! Or use tracing and transfer paper to put that drawing on the first page. Now your first page is complete, and the book has been claimed.

Are you unsure about what to draw?

The blank page can freeze anyone up. We tend to feel like everything we put down on the page—especially a blank page—must be great, and this kind of pressure only makes it harder to start.

Before you let yourself get intimidated into putting the book away for another month, destroy the power of the blank page. Draw a line, a smiley face, a tiny Quirrel, a motivational message. Anything that's quick and easy. The blank page is no longer blank, and you may find your hands itching to draw more. Lean into that.

Still frozen? Sometimes you need a little push. Google some drawing prompts, or come up with a theme for the page, and create a spread with that. You could even fill the page with lines and circles; do anything that will break the ice.

A few general tips for drawing while dealing with perfectionism:

As I said earlier, I think it's great to get yourself a doodle book. I don't know about you, but it's so nice to draw stupid and not have to worry about how presentable everything is. The messiness can be really fun! A page full of horrible doodles comes together in its own kind of beauty.

The point of a doodle book is to create a space that isn't nearly as intimidating as a normal sketchbook. But how do we do that?

Write in your sketchbook.

I write little notes with almost all of my doodles. It reminds me to not be so serious, and enjoy what I've created—even if that thing is the most horrendous thing I've ever seen. A serious sketchbook wouldn't have "He's just like me fr," written next to what appears to be a melting dog, right? Let yourself laugh at what you've created.

Add stickers.

Stickers can really help liven up your doodling space. Find some artists who inspire you, and use them as nuggets of inspiration for your drawings. Use them to set the mood for the page, the color palette, ect. Washi tapes can also be great for adding some color to the page.

If you find yourself constantly comparing your art to other people's art, I don't suggest doing this.

If you truly can't stand to leave a "bad" drawing in your sketchbook, cover it up!

I don't recommend defacing old drawings, as I myself have regretted doing so with some of my older drawings. Your mood can and will greatly influence your perception of your art, and it can make you hate something you would otherwise be okay with!

I recommend letting a drawing sit for a day or two before looking back on it. You'd be surprised by how different a drawing can look after some time away.

But if you really can't stomach the thought of leaving them be, you have a few options.

Slap a sticky note on it.

Sticky notes are really great for covering a drawing you aren't happy with, while also offering you another chance to draw on that space. Especially when you make a mistake with pens, or any non-erasable materials, sticky notes give you a second chance. They can also look pretty awesome stylistically too! Get some pretty colors and make that drawing pop.

Paint over it.

Same as the sticky note, paint offers you another chance to draw, and can add a new and interesting texture to the page.

I really don't recommend tearing out the whole page, but there's no shame in tossing it as long as you don't put shame on yourself while you throw it out.

If drawing in a book is way too scary for you..

You can even use looseleaf paper.

No need to worry about "wasting" expensive paper or "tarnishing" a good sketchbook. Draw, then do whatever you want with the paper. Hate it? It's gone. Draw something you like? Cut it out and put it in your sketchbook. Like the whole page? Get a page clip and put it in your sketchbook, or get a hole puncher and put it in a binder to make your own "sketchbook." (Just a collection of nice art, really.)

Above all else, test and listen to yourself. Find ways to work around your limitations as you work towards eliminating them altogether. Be kind, and learn to accept that not everything you create will be beautiful, but everything you create is yours! You are creating something out of nothing, even if that something looks terrible. It was drawn into existence! How amazing to be capable of creating such a thing.

I hope this list is at least somewhat helpful for you. There are plenty of suggestions that I forgot to mention, and I might come back with more later. In the meantime, I'll try to take my own advice.

Thanks for listening. Happy drawing. :)

this is so thorough omg thanks so much

i will keep this on here for my future sketchbook struggles

[chimeramoth]

a not-so-quick note about rainbow capitalism

capitalism, is capitalism. i have a lot of strong opinions about it and always complain about it to people. and when someone brings up a side effect of capitalism that they're not quite connecting the dots, i make an effort to point it out to them. it's a predatory and vicious system that cares about nothing but money number go up.

it doesn't matter if you work for a small chain or a mega chain of a business. their goals are the same: sell the items for the lowest price in the local area to defeat other stores in locality, make employee benefits look nice and great in comparison to the employee morale, and let a bunch of cases of harassment, discrimination, neglect, and unethical choices slide under the rug. my best advice is do not work for a mega chain store (if you are able) if you are mentally ill and/or disabled (and honestly if you are any kind person that can see all the problems going on, but i know that is more of an unrealistic dream for the time being).

but as for consuming capitalism, people will buy what they see. the rules don't matter. somebody somewhere will buy the cheaply made unethically sourced product that's right in front of their eyes, because that's how capitalism markets to their consumers. "check out this cool and pretty thing that we just got a shipment of. you don't see these things every day, now do you? pretty coooool, huhhhh? and for the low price of $xx.xx. can't beat that with a stick. how many other stores do you know have this item right now, ready, for this price? this is a opportunity for you, pal. better grab it before it's gone."

these systems are harder to take down as they are currently the systems holding up economy at the moment.

and when it comes to rainbow capitalism/pride merchandise, optically, this is a great thing.

because now that mega chain stores are offering these items for sale for anyone walking in, it's being casually advertised. its subconsciously persuasive to people who may have hesitant feelings, uncertainty, uncomfortableness, or questions on showing your pride. it's a casual suggestion that maybe people wearing rainbow clothes and capes and cheering and hugging are not so bad after all. if w*lmart is selling it out in the open, then maybe pride isn't actually about being degenerate or harming children or whatever. maybe pride... really is just a big party to a group of people.

the more that people see it, the more they are exposed to rainbow stickers and transgender flags, the less of a harsh reaction they will feel. exposure to diversity and inclusivity is greatly proven for coexisting among people that are different than you. and it works on everyone.

so with all of this said, if you are in a safe position to do so without a major risk threat of being harassed in public, if you see something you like that is readily available to you at your store, if you do not have the money or time to afford looking into more ethically acceptable merchandise from other stores, if it's not something that's going to harm your wallet.

then buy it. pick it up and put it in your cart if it brings you a little joy to your day. depending on where you live, you may want to mentally and socially prepare yourself in case anyone confronts you about it, but breathe in deeply and hold your chest up strong, and don't give them the hysterical reaction they're wanting out of you. they want you to feel guilt for being queer, but do your best to not let them have that satisfaction.

buy the little gay mass produced coffee mug, if it makes you happy. we cannot help the environment that we are forced to participate in, and if you want to use your money to have a little gay mug or gay towel or flag or pin or slippers, fuck it, yolo. enjoy the little opportunity of joy you have come across, and survive. live and survive until better times. when the better times come, you can bring out that little gay mug you bought 20 years ago and hold it like a little treasure, and talk about it and share it with loved ones, tell them about the tense hardships we have had to push through gritting our teeth through pain and fear, and tell them that you bought this little gay mug during that time to remind you that life is short and joy is priceless.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

2. "That's why I want them. I think I might be low-fi socialist junk myself."

+1 Communism

SIILENG - "No, officer, you're a high-class policeman who accepts nothing less than the best! Lucky for you, I've got the best on sale!"

"You don't know what I am. I don't even know it myself." (Pause). "I want the speakers."

"Wait, what if I *do* deserve more than a low-fi socialist sound system…"

SIILENG - "Well, if you *want* them..." He pauses for a moment, calculating.

"But see, they are the pedestal for my sneakers. If I let go of the speakers, where will the sneakers go? I can't leave premium lifestyle sneakers on the *ground*..."

"If, on the other hand, you wanted to buy the *sneakers*, too, I could maybe throw in the speakers for a little extra -- 50 cents."

5. [Leave.]

BOX OF SUNGLASSES - There's a pile of cheap sunglasses in a small box, a variety of shapes and colours.

SIILENG - "You like sunglasses, officer? I've got the latest styles, right here!" The vendor takes a pair of sunglasses and sticks them under your nose.

Try the shades on.

Rummage through the box.

[Leave for now.]

BOX OF SUNGLASSES - Abort! These are hideous. What's more, they don't even fit your face. You can feel them pinching your nose and chafing against your brow.

SIILENG - "Damn, officer, you look like a mega-secret spy, very secret," the man nods eagerly. "They're practically made for you. I'll let you have them for... two reál and fifty cents!"

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - It's going to be very difficult for anyone to take you seriously with these things on your face.

KIM KITSURAGI - "No," the lieutenant gently removes the glasses from your face, setting you free again. "You're definitely not buying those."

"Don't tell me what to do, Kim. I like those sunglassses."

"You're right, I'm too sensible for those."

SIILENG - "Are you sure? But they look so good on you!" The street vendor frowns. "You should think this through, officer."

2. Rummage through the box.

BOX OF SUNGLASSES - These are all boring. Boring third-rate ho-hum sunglasses made of cheap Seraise plastic. The kind of plastic that melts in the sun.

DRAMA [Easy: Success] - Those UV-stickers are almost certainly just there for show. If anything, these lenses probably direct more UV light *into* your pupils -- a UV magnifier.

SIILENG - "These are all first-rate sunglasses!" the man declares. "Premium design, superb material, *very cool* UV-resistant! These will definitely keep your eyes safe *and* cool while doing your dangerous police work."

3. [Conceptualization - Formidable 13] Try again, maybe you can find *some* interesting sunglasses in the box.

I'm also hoping to fail this one.

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Formidable: Failure] - No luck. All you find is this... lime-coloured cellophane visor? Produced by a bargain sportswear brand called Amphibian, apparently. There's a malformed green frog on its bent cap.

SIILENG - "Oh, that visor is perfect for you, officer. It'll definitely keep the sun out of your eyes while you're shooting criminals." The street vendor makes a bang-bang sound. "And all for a mere six reál."

(Turn to the lieutenant). "Kim, are firefights something we should be prepared for?"

Put the visor back.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I hope not," he says, looking up from his browsing.

SIILENG - "You don't like it? Sure, square-jaw, no problem. Let's get you some real shades."

The Amphibian Sports Visor gives us +1 Perception, which is good, but not currently worth 6 reál.

6. [Leave for now.]

Hot air rises up from the sewer: sour, acidic, and strangely comforting.

[ta-creech]

Okay, I'm not gonna lie, I jumped into a new thing.

Not that I have a problem picking up a new hobby, system, craft, and not sticking with it. I have so few hobbies that I tend to stay with them forever. Mom taught me to crochet when I was 8. I'm still at it 30 years later. Same with knitting, that I learned when I was 24. Same with cross-stitch and gaming and you get the idea.

And, just for the record, I don't consider reading and writing to be hobbies. I need those like I need air. Those are non-negotiable essentials. You could blast me to the moon to live forever on my lonesome and so long as I had books and something to write with, I'm good.

I struggle with time though. Single mom, cat army, day job for my bills. Life's busy work and responsibilities, even though I love them all. Sometimes I don't get enough downtime. A lot of times, if I'm honest.

A friend of mine pointed me toward someone that's helped though. Ms Sarra Cannon runs a productivity course called the HB90. You can find it here, if you're interested. I'm not going to detail it all out, because that's not what this is about.

What I did want to talk about is that I'm a bonehead. I know this about myself. I tend to jump in with both feet on a thing until I'm in over my head and then try to figure out what I'm actually doing with it. It was no different with this. HB90, all you really need is a pen and paper if you can't print anything. Same with all daily planning. Ms Sarra even said it.

Not me though. Printer? Eh, I needed a new one anyway. A5 binder? Those look so cool! And I bought four different ones because I loved every one I found. Also, all the stickers.

Y'all see where this is going, right? Yeah. So, word of warning. A budget when diving into a new thing can't hurt.

[finmoryo]

Not me adding too many stickers to the cart on redbubble while knowing that I’m not going to buy any of them

[s-brant]

Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

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

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

Word Count: 13.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good Try!”

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

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

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

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

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

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

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

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

"Bad day?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

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

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

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

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't listening to her.

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

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

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

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

It doesn't matter anymore.

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

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

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

"JJ?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

She sees right through him.

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

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck, Kie?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's a shoe box.

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

"What is this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

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

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

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

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

Letters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear John B,

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

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

Also, I'm really sorry for—

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

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

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

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

I think you knew it before I did.

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

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

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

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

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

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

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

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

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

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

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

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

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

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

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

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

"Ditto."

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

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

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

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

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

They bury it together.

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

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

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Just got out of class where we had our group critique; can finally post something I've had done for a couple days now 🎉🎉 project details/commentary/funny(?) story under cut because I don't know how to keep things brief

tl;dr: Made some stickers that show things that interest me in Japan for class :) might try to print them later on, if I do then I'll post that too

This was for Digital Art, it's another "draw concepts of a specific location," but I didn't like, draw where I live this time, so I can actually post this one online haha.

The actual instructions were: "Create six 3"x3" stickers that represent parts of a city, country, landmark, or attraction you would like to visit/have visited." I, a typical art student, chose to do Japan, but I didn't really wanna lean into the whole anime thing a lot, partly because I just don't watch it as often as I used to. I wanted to stick with architecture and major landmarks, but buildings are hard to draw repeatedly in a shorter time limit so I ended up drawing some food too. Also, I'm a percussionist, so I wanted to include a taiko drum just cause they're really cool

The lineart itself took the longest since I reeeaaaally wanted to emphasize a hand drawn feeling to the stickers. I felt this was the best way to make all of the stickers match stylistically, aside from general color matching. I couldnt entirely rely on colors to make them match because things like the ramen bowl had wayyy more colors than the buildings/mountains, and the onigiri was mostly one color. Matching the stickers was part of the grading criteria, so after a lot of brainstorming, I ended up deciding to put more attention to detail into the linework than to the color scheme (though I did try to weasel in that orangey red into as much as I could)

Illustrator did not like line style I used, 'cause apparently all those textured pens take a lot more to load than the normal ones (never had that problem in the program I normally use to draw, so it caught me off guard). Halfway into the project my laptop's fan would sound like a jet engine every time I opened the file; needless to say, progress was slowed a bit as the program started to get extremely laggy haha.

I wasn't able to start on the coloring until a few days before the project was due but I was still good on time . Ultimately ended up having to pull a near all nighter though, because Illustrator crashed in the middle of the coloring process (guessing bc of the lineart), which got rid of hours worth of work :D so cool, love that

Got it done, walked into class on Monday w/ three hours of sleep ready for critique, but five or so other people didn't finish theirs on time so prof ended up extending the due date anyway :D :D so cool very awesome

Can't really be mad though. I would've been happy if that courtesy was extended to me if I were in that spot, so I just went home and used the extra time to knock out some homework lol.

The extra time was worth it too cause everyone's turned out so cool :D wish I could share those too cause I loved looking at all of them during critique today

I said I just got out of class when I wrote this but I took so long to finish the post that two hours have passed since then,,

[imagine-this-fandom]

The Rescue: BNHA x Fem! Reader- Black rat snake

the rescue intro: here

Leading you back into the main section of the shop, she released your hand and put Izuku into a nearby cage.  Turning back to face you, she pulled out her phone.

“I just need to double-check something with the owner of the shop real quick. He likes to hear about any adoptions I supervise from a particular group of animals we have. You go ahead and look around while I confirm the one I have in mind “

You offered her a smile and a nod before turning to look around. Wandering the aisles of the store, you couldn't help but relax. There was some music playing in the background, too low for you to recognize the lyrics. You noted with amusement that your bird friend, Hizashi, was perched by the radio, bobbing along to it enthusiastically. You started to make your way towards him when a flicker of movement caught your attention from the corner of your eye. Turning to face the shelves of glass tanks, you searched them for the smooth movement that had captured your gaze. Perusing the tanks nearby, you were excited to find the one in the corner occupied. Inside was a large black snake. He was beautiful. Shiny black scales decorated the majority of his body save for his stark white underbelly and chin. It was hard to tell how long he was because he was wrapped up on a branch, coiled tightly as he watched you unblinking.

Tilting your head, your eyes scanned over the little sticker on the corner of the tank telling you his name and breed.

"Dabi, huh? Whoever named you was absolutely trying to be edgy," you crouched so your face was level with the tank and you could see him better. "Dabi is the name of a super dangerous villain, you know?"

Dabi watched you silently, serpentine tongue flicking in annoyance. He was used to the stares and the gawking from other store patrons, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. You at least weren't tapping on the glass and whining when he didn't do anything interesting. Still, to him, you were a temporary distraction in the long borning sameness his days had turned into. He cursed the day he got involved with the league of villains and the quirk experiments that Shigaraki's "master" put into effect.

When Inko came to find you, she rounded the corner to see you sitting in front of the snake, mirroring his movements and sticking your tongue out in time with his. To be honest, she was a bit nervous about this arrangement, but Nezu had insisted you take the villainous young man home with you. Something about personalities and the change he needed or something like that. Still, if you were somehow the key to breaking the effects of the quirk like Nezu expected then it was worth the worry.

"I see you've found him all on your own!"

You whipped your head around to look at her in shock.

"Wait, a snake? Aren't they super hard to care for?"

"Not really, especially his breed," She answered calmly, offering you her hand to help you off the floor. "snakes are good pets, even if they look intimidating."

Taking her hand, you allowed her to pull you from your kneeling position. Looking back at the snake, you couldn't deny that he was interesting. You always thought snakes were really cool, and with some research, they could be really good pets. Besides, he was the one Inko wanted you to take home, and she knew so much more about him. You could trust her on this, and you honestly wanted to.

"If you help me, I will happily take him home. But you have to give me lots of info about him so I can do research. Okay?"

"It's a deal."

Inko helped you gather supplies for your new pet, making idle conversation and giving you tips on how to properly care for Dabi.

"Be very careful when you handle him, dear. He's got a mean temper and he's nipped me a couple of times. He comes from a not-so-friendly background so he's mistrusting. "

You nodded slowly, expression falling at her words. You would have to be very careful, but you were going to earn his trust no matter what. Inko noted your determined expression as she put supplies into a cart for you, a small smile tugging at her lips. Maybe Nezu was right, you could handle this. Perhaps there was hope for Dabi yet.

Once you had successfully gathered all the possible tools you would need, Inko fetched a pair of heavy-duty gloves and a snake hook. Carefully, she transferred the irritated snake into a bucket to transport him in before quickly latching the top.

"You'll want to make sure his container is firmly latched once you get him home. He's a bit of an escape artist. "

You were a bit concerned due to all the warnings given, but you were more determined than ever to take good care of the snake now within your care. He was going to feel loved, like it or not. Giving her a nod, you carefully took the container from her, cradling it close to your chest to give him any extra warmth you could grant him for the cold journey home.

Inko shooed you out, eager for you to get home before it got any darker or colder. You hugged her tightly before stepping out into the cold with your new pet.

Luckily, the trek home didn't take very long and you found yourself at your apartment door before you knew it.  Stepping inside, you quickly set to heat up the space. You weren't taking any chances in keeping your snake healthy.

"I'll get you settled as soon as I can, buddy. Just hold on for me."

Setting the container aside, you quickly got to work setting up his tank. While you were focused on the task at hand, you missed the lid of the container lifting as Dabi pushed out of his temporary cage. Slithering out, he relished his momentary freedom. While he was well aware that he couldn't escape in this form, that doesn't mean he wasn't going to cause as much mischief as he possibly could in the process.

While you were distracted, he explored the apartment. He had to admit, the change in perspective from when he was human was disorienting. As a human, he stood at five foot nine, but as a snake, he was mere inches off the ground. Because he was a python, he found that climbing wasn't too difficult, so he quickly made his way up a nearby chair to settle on the counter and get a better vantage point. Surveying his surroundings, he noticed with gathering annoyance that his new home belonged to a hero fan. You had various merch such as an allmight mug and a red hawks wing patterned blanket. Still, at least he hadn't seen anything flame patterned. You at least didn't have the worst taste in that regard.

As he looked around, you finished setting up his tank. Looking back towards where you left him, you stiffened, panic filling your veins. The container was clear, and you could clearly see it was missing a snake. Slowly, you rose to your feet, trying to quell the panic invading your mind.

"Dabi? Where'd you go?" trapping your lip between your teeth,  you started scanning the floor.

Dabi watched with amusement as you searched frantically for him. He could tell it was going to be fun to tease you. Had he been in human form, he would have called you out for your pointless panic.

'I'm right here, stupid girl,' he hissed, knowing you wouldn't be able to understand him, but wanting to express the sentiment regardless. Slithering to the edge of the counter, he perched there ` and hissed softly to get your attention.

Hearing the strange noise, you were shocked to see the reptile on your counter. The tank he had been in didn't do him justice. He was easily five feet long now that you could see him stretched out. While this situation was someone's worst nightmare, you couldn't help but catch your breath. You had never considered snakes to be all that pretty, but Dabi managed to be. The black of his scales was onyx against your counter The white scales of his underbelly just barely showed on his sides, a striking contrast. The most obvious separation of color was at his jaw, the underside bright white as if someone had pieced two colors together there.

You broke out of your thoughts to find the snake coiled around a pillar by your counter, now exactly eye level with you.

"Sorry, you got bored waiting for me. But your new tank is finished. Now you have a nice comfy place to sleep."

He gave you an unimpressed look. He would have rolled his eyes if he could. He was expecting more of a freak out instead of the weird half-smile you gave him while standing completely still for like 15 seconds. Weirdo. He pulled his focus back to the present as he felt your hand close gently around his middle. Jerking back, he bit you. The yelp that sounded made him cringe internally, but he steamrolled over the small part of him that felt remorse. He was determined to get rid of any trace of that if he wanted to move forward as a villain. Still, he didn't take pride in the blood that was welling up on your hand, that was more toga's thing.

You clutched your hand to your chest, looking back at him with wide eyes.  Backing up until you were out of his reach should he decide to go for a longer bite, you looked down at the red beading up from the tiny pinpricks on your hand. It didn't hurt that much and had mostly just surprised you. However, you were understandably a bit freaked out. You checked over your injury before pouting at Dabi, regaining some of your confidence now that the adrenaline was fading.

"Well, that wasn't very nice, Mr. grumpy scales. I just wanted to get you to your tank." skirting around him, you made your way into the small kitchen area. Keeping your gaze trained on Dabi, you went about washing your hands to try and disinfect the bite. It wasn't deep, but you weren't about to risk getting sick. Before long, you had the small wound clean and bandaged. However, this left you with the task at hand that had gotten you bit in the first place, getting Dabi to his tank.

"Now how are we gonna do this, my little spit-fire? I can't exactly leave you to roam the house, but I don't want a matching snake bite piercing for my other hand."

'whatever woman, it's your problem, not mine' Dabi watched you, tongue flicking lazily as he waited for you to decide your next move. He had to admit, you were more fun to mess with than the Midoriya lady. He always got chewed out by the various occupants of the store whenever he tried to cause trouble for her. Here, it was just you and him and he could be as much of a jerk as he wanted. It's not like he expected you to interact with him much anyway, so why waste time playing the well-behaved pet?

While he amused himself with his thoughts, you remembered the stick Inko had used to transfer him back at the store and recreated it with your broom handle. Dabi was not expecting the sudden change of perspective when you scooped him up, so he didn't think about resisting. Gently placing him in the bottom of the tank, you slid the handle out and carefully latched the tank lid.

"There we go Dabi. Sleep well. Tomorrow should be less stressful and you can take some time to settle in." You offered him a smile, a brief light in the dark living room before you retreated to your room. Dabi watched you go in disgruntled annoyance before settling down, knowing it was pointless to stay up and agonize about the strange day. Curling around himself until he was arranged in a neat little coil, he drifted to sleep.

~~~~~ "Dabi!!!! How did you get up there?" You stared wide-eyed, mouth agape at your snake. You had been living with him for just over two weeks now, but he still managed to surprise you. Right now, he was lazily draped over the top of a bookshelf in your living room. If he could emote, you would have easily seen a cheeky grin adorning his smug face.

"How, I... You're impossible!" You threw up your hands, not having the mental stamina to deal with his shenanigans for the day.  "Fine, if you want to be tall, far be it from me to stop you."

You gave him a triumphant look before turning your back to him.

Unbeknownst to you, he was waiting for an opportunity and you had just given him the perfect one. He carefully stretched out over the edge of the bookshelf and let himself fall around your shoulders, his tail wrapping around your bicep to steady him. Obviously, you screamed and tried to dislodge him in a panic. The shrill sound hurt his ears, but the surprise he saw was worth it. If you could have seen your face, your eyes had been wide and crazy and he hissed out a laugh as you finally settled down.

Your heart was still beating in your throat but you quickly realized that it was just Dabi coiled around you. His cold scales against the bare skin of your neck and the foreign weight had been terrifying in the moment. You moved slowly, considering his sharp teeth that he had no qualms about using. He was a strange animal. He hated being handled but would take every opportunity to antagonize you. Still... he had grown on you. However, that was horrifying, and had he not been more secure, you would have flung him away.

You instead glared at the reptile, breath still heaving as you recovered.

"That was rude Dabi!" A pout formed on your lips, "You know, you could have been hurt. That was reckless. Also, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

You watched him warily. You didn't think he would bite you again, but he was unpredictable so you moved carefully.  You slowly reached out with the arm opposite the one he was wrapped around and carefully ran a finger over the scales on his back, enjoying the smooth and cool feeling of his scales under your fingers.

The feeling was alien to Dabi, but not uncomfortable. While he didn't like people touching him, your touch was featherlight and gentle. There was no promise of pain behind it, no expectation, just softness, and curiosity. He froze at the contact, unsure how to respond to the touch. In the past, he was faced with extremes. Always too hot, too rough, too painful, too much, and too expectant.

But your touch was gentle. You were soft, warm rather than scalding, gentle and careful, and...caring. Despite his behavior and lashing out, you stayed patient with him. You confused and irritated him to no end. Still, he supposed he could endure your touch for a little while longer. 'it's just because I'm a snake now. I'm drawn to her warmth' he muttered to himself, a soft hiss all that you heard.

Without knowing his true thoughts, you took his response as displeasure and pulled away quickly.

"Sorry spitfire, I didn't mean to bother you. I'll keep my hands to myself then," You started towards his cage, "let's get you put away, and then I'll leave you be."

Without even thinking about it, he tightened his hold on your arm slightly. You shot him a surprised look before deciding it was your imagination and carefully untangling him from your arm and placing him in his tank. You latched it and gave him a small smile and wave before walking away, going to the couch to give him space.

Meanwhile, Dabi was having a mental battle with himself. He knew that it had felt nice to be near you, but he was confused as to the why. He decided that he froze because he was used to people being too scared of him to caress him so casually. Still, a part of him, a part he tried to bury was convinced that he was avoiding the real reason. Looking back at you, he felt warm and confused. The warmth wasn't painful like the blue of his quirk, but rather, soothing. It calmed him yet made him feel funny all the same. Perhaps this is what true annoyance felt like, anger at being unable to faze you. He narrowed his gaze as much as this form would allow and glared back at you. He fell back on one of the few emotions he allowed himself and stewed in a fit of quiet anger.

Your skin prickled lightly as you felt his unblinking gaze on you. Turning your head from the book in your hands, you offered him a small smile, eyes soft. It was a direct opposite to his hard eyes and he was a bit taken aback but didn't let it show. The moment lasted only a few moments before a twinkle of mischievousness lit your eyes. Leaning forward slightly, you brought your fingers to your lips and blew the grumpy animal a kiss, bursting into giggles when he jerked back, affronted by your action.

You rolled back on the couch, heaving with laughter at the simple but funny reaction. Your eyes scrunched with mirth as an ungraceful snort left your mouth before you were able to recover, shoulders still shaking as you righted yourself. Looking back at the tank, your expression was bright with humor, cheeks red from the laughter.

"Oh come on, it was a kiss Dabi, it wouldn't have hurt you. " You made your way in front of him and crouched to his level. "Alright, I'm sorry for scaring you, but hey, payback's a *****. "

A broad smirk formed as you watched him flick his tongue in annoyance. "If that startled you so much, maybe I'll just have to spend more time with you so you're used to my antics."

He watched incredulously as you dragged a chair to the table his tank rested on and settled on it, watching him with elbows on your knees and chin resting in your palms.

"There. Now we can get to know each other. I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot. " You gave a little bow from the chair before straightening. "I, am (y/n). I moved here from America, and my quirk is the ability to resist other quirks."

He slid to the front of the tank, interested in any information he could glean from this strange encounter. You were the only one he could interact with, so he might as well know a bit about you to use against you later if he ever turned human again.  

'Now what, huh? You can't understand what I'm saying so you look pretty stupid right now. ' he spoke, but only hisses reached your ears. You pretended to listen intently regardless.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Dabi. What's that? You're from here in Japan? Well, I must say, my accent is atrocious compared to you." You laughed, winking conspiratorily. "And what's your quirk? Spitfire? Do tell what that's like."

'You are by far the strangest person I have ever met and if we met when I was human, I'd squish you like a bug. And what's with the nickname being my quirk? animals don't have quirks, idiot.'

Not for the first time, Dabi wished he had arms again. He had to settle for flicking his tail with annoyance rather than punching the glass as he would have preferred. Still, you kept talking, oblivious to his annoyance.

'Spitfire huh? What name fits you then? I could just call you bug. You're annoying like one. Firefly then. You're obnoxiously sunny and useless.'

He smirked to himself, proud of his choice, and let you ramble on. The conversation was all about you and your job and favorite heroes. Everything and more than he wanted to know was shared with him. Still, it was better entertainment than staring at the tank in silence so he was grateful for it in a small measure. He didn't realize how intently he had been listening until you stopped. He straightened as he heard your voice waver for the first time in the half-hour you had been talking to him. Turning his reptilian eyes to you, you had changed demeanor completely. You had gotten to the family section of your story. Inhaling and pushing forward, you forced a fake smile that made his heart twist in something he told himself was disgust rather than sympathy.

"I have family, I suppose. I mean, they're still alive that is. But... Since I decided to move, they don't want anything to do with me," you cleared your throat, having not really taken time to talk aloud about it and process it fully and getting more choked up than you thought you would. "They think I'm an idiot for leaving. Considering my quirk, they thought I might as well not have one. They didn't think it was safe for me here and that it was a betrayal to leave them for my own dreams rather than their expectations."

You weren't looking at the tank anymore, instead focusing on the pale carpet at your feet, trying to distract from the feeling of hurt that had filled you so suddenly.

"They uh, they wanted me to be a hero. " A humorless smile flitted across your face briefly. "Their quirks were quirk paralysis and forcefield. They thought I would get some ability that could be used to save people. But no... I can only save myself. And that's only if they attack me with a quirk. I can still get hurt from falls, weapons, all that fun stuff. I disappointed them. Because I was born wrong, I took away their dreams of being a good child." You swallowed thickly, blinking hard to suppress the stinging in your eyes as angry and hurt tears filled them.

Dabi watched, transfixed by this girl who was so similar yet so different. Yet with all you had gone through, you hadn't turned bitter You still liked heroes despite your inability to join them. You were not what he expected and he suddenly didn't want you to stop talking. He needed to know more. Unfortunately for him, you were emotionally drained and had gone quiet.

Standing, you wiped your eyes with the heels of your palms before offering him a watery smile, trying to mask any hint of the sadness that had just consumed you.

"Kind of went off the deep end there! sorry about that. it's getting late, so I'll let you sleep. "

Before he could make any move or sound to protest, you had vanished into your room, the light switched off and plunging the room into darkness.

~~~~~~~~~

Ever since that day when you talked to Dabi, he had been friendlier to you. It was subtle at first, and you had to pay close attention to notice any difference. Dabi was less hesitant to spend time with you and as time went on, he became comfortable with you handling him. Now, months after taking him into your care, he was always with you around the house. He was still a jerk and nipped you on occasion, but he never broke skin anymore.

He had taken to riding around on your shoulders, wrapped loosely there with his head resting on your collar bone. You would continue about your day with him resting there, occasionally you would reach up and stroke him. You talked with him often, having one-sided conversations as you cooked, whispering to him conspiratorily as you commented on the various actors on tv. Once you even took him to the store with you without realizing it. It wasn't until the cashier nearly screamed that you realized you had forgotten to put him back in his tank. You could have sworn he was laughing at you on the way home, hiss coming out in disjointed little huffs.

Dabi was, of course, amused by your mistake. He wrapped himself around your neck, applying light pressure as if to remind you that he was in fact still there as you hurried home. 'I was wondering how long it would take for you to realize. I didn't think you would actually make it to the store, firefly. How unobservant can you be, I'm a five-foot snake.' He tickled the base of your throat with his tongue, grinning to himself as you shuddered.

"Hey! Stop that, you wouldn't want me to drop you. I promise the pavement is not as forgiving as the carpet in my apartment." You gently pushed his head away, tucking him into the hood on your jacket.

Your shoe caught on a rock as you passed an alleyway, briefly causing you to stumble. You nearly sent Dabi flying from his place on your shoulder.

"Hah! See? Careful." laughing, you settled him back in place, patting him goodnaturedly

'real graceful there, firefly. Trying to seduce the pavement?  Because you almost kissed it. I could do better and I don't even have legs.' As much as he teased, he couldn't help but be endeared to your clumsiness.

"careful there, girlie. That could have been a bad fall. Wouldn't want to get that pretty face marked up."

You whipped your head around and looked owlishly at the man who had spoken. He was in the alleyway beside you, leaning against the brick with a cigarette. He watched you lazily, eyes trailing over you with something akin to appraisal.

Stepping back, you gave a tight nod and a forced chuckle.

"Yeah, really lucky there. um," Shifting uncomfortably, your eyes darted towards home before hurriedly returning to the mystery man, not sure you wanted to let him out of your sight, "I'll just be going now, can't keep my boyfriend waiting." You ducked your head and swiftly kept walking, the feeling of his eyes following you leaving a gross slimy feeling crawling up your spine.

Once you were out of range and you couldn't feel his gaze again, you took off for home. Your hands went to your throat, holding Dabi steady as you sprinted. When you arrived at the apartment, your breathing was heavy and punctuated by the occasional gasp. Dabi could feel your pulse fluttering against his side frantically. Once you were inside, you dropped your bags and whipped the door shut. Fumbling with the locks, you didn't relax until all of them were secured tightly. You rested your forehead against the wood, heaving quietly as you tried to relax and give the adrenaline a chance to wear off.  You wouldn't have reacted like this normally, but something about that man had activated your fight or flight response.

Dabi watched you carefully, not admitting that he was concerned by that display. Stretching out to get a better look at you, he was relieved when your eyes found his form and focused on him rather than the blank distance you had been occupied with before.

"Sorry about that Spitfire, I bet that was a wild ride." Standing, you slid off your jacket and carefully unwound him from your neck, "And hopefully, you will never have to experience that ever again."

Dabi curled around your arm, his weight a comfort that helped ground you as you calmed. Setting him down on the counter, you turned your attention to the bags you had abandoned by the door.

"What do you think that was about?" You wrinkled your nose in distaste, as you remembered the man. You didn't like how he looked at you, " I think I lost him, so we should be alright."

You focused on putting the groceries away and started rambling about the movie you were looking forward to that was in production.

"Oh you would love it, it has my favorite actress in it and I always liked the story. I can't wait to see what direction they take with it."

You looked back at the snake as if to ask his opinion before nodding sagely.

"Ah yes, I agree, they might absolutely ruin the storyline by adding an unnecessary romantic subplot."

Dabi mentally rolled his eyes at your antics. he may act like it didn't affect him, but he quite enjoyed it when you talked to him. You treated him like a trusted friend. He adored when you smiled at him. Throughout his life, he had never had anyone smile at him as you did. You looked at him like he was the most important thing in your life and if he were human, he probably wouldn't be able to conceal the awed expression that would follow just one of your smiles.

He listened intently as you worked, mind wandering as he thought of what would change if he were human. He'd get to see your cute annoyed pout more often, that'd be for sure. He would tease you mercilessly, but he knew you would respond in kind, probably teasing him back and poking fun right back.

Still, it was better this way, at least in his mind. This way, he could actually be around you without scaring you off. His burns would likely intimidate you if his reputation as a villain didn't. No, he was better off as a snake. Maybe it was selfish to pine after you this way, but he wouldn't have to face your true reaction to him this way. The possibility of actually being able to be with you as a human and you rejecting him was not something he would be willing to face. He supposed being a snake had that small advantage. You would never know what an awful person he was and leave him, to never grace him with that annoyed look or that silly nickname. Besides, he couldn't care about you, not really. He told himself that he didn't have emotions anymore. Those feelings died the same night Touya did.

He was pulled from his thoughts when you picked him off the counter, carefully coiling him around your arm. You placed a quick kiss on the top of his head before you lowered him into his tank. Laughing, you tried to slide him off your arm, amused by his reluctance to let go.

"Dabi, let me go! I gotta go to bed!"

You succeeded in removing him from your hand before bidding him goodnight, not bothering to close the tank as he always managed to escape anyway. He watched you go, only averting his eyes when you passed from his view. Settling down to rest, he briefly let himself think of what happened next. Maybe Dabi died too. When he became a snake, he couldn't return to being human, he couldn't return to being Dabi. Maybe this version of him, this one could be allowed to love. From afar of course. He sighed and focused on your door, letting himself drift as he surrendered to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

Work had been difficult today. You were relieved to put up your apron as your shift ended. the day actually reminded you of the day you had stumbled across the pet store. That day, while awful in the beginning, became one of the best days of your life. If it hadn't been for the difficulties of the day and the need to stay late, you wouldn't have had to brave the store and find that amazing pet store. You smiled to yourself as you reminisced on that day and finding Dabi. The thought of getting back to your apartment lifted your spirits and you were quick to clock out and leave work. There was a spring in your step as you followed the familiar route home, mind full with a plan forming of how you were going to spend your evening with your best friend and pet.

Unfortunately, your happy mood was exactly what got you in trouble. You hadn't been paying as much attention as you should have been, mind focused too much on what came next than on your surroundings. Before you knew it, a hand reached out from the alley you had rightly fled the day before. The man from before tugged you harshly into his chest, hand clasped tightly to your mouth while the other held a knife to your throat.

"We meet again, girlie. Now just be real quiet for me and you'll be alright. "

Your blood ran cold as you listened to his commands, following him into the shadows as he led you further away from the safe and welcoming light of the street. It disappeared along with your hope as he pulled you harshly along. He led you through a maze of alleyways and shortcuts for what felt like forever. A dilapidated warehouse rose in front of you and he harshly tugged you inside the dingy building. You wanted to fight, but he wasn't using a quirk. You could survive a knife to the throat if it was a quirk controlling it, but a plain mugging? You were still vulnerable. You felt your heart sink when he removed his hand. He didn't trust you, so that meant he was confident any sound you made would not reach any ears that mattered.

"What do you want from me? I'm no one special, I'm not useful to you, why would you take me?" You searched his face frantically, looking for some explanation.

He laughed and pushed you into a chair, attaching your wrists behind it with a rope. The practiced movement made you grit your teeth as you realized that the ease of it meant you weren't the first he'd done this to. Biting down fear, you glared at him.

"Let me go! What are you planning with me?" You spit your words, the fear fading to anger at the horrible man. You pulled against the rope as he stepped away but it held tight.

"You, my dear, are going to be a beautiful addition to my collection," you craned your neck as he circled you, that same wrongness from that first day insisting that you keep him in your vision.

"you see, my quirk allows me to identify the quirks of others. The more powerful it is, the more vague the details I get, but yours is fascinating."

Leaning forward, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him, eyes dancing with amusement at the anger and uncertainty that shone in your expression.

" I can't see your quirk. But... You're not quirkless. Tell me," he squeezed your cheeks, amused expression turning dark, "What are you hiding from me, girlie? I have quite a few buyers who would be interested in a pretty young thing like you, but I need to see if you're worth my time."

Narrowing his eyes, he let your chin go and stepped back.

"Tell me your quirk or I'll have to mark up that pretty frame. I don't like to resort to torture, but I assure you, I am well-practiced in it. "

You clenched your jaw and lifted your chin, eyes sparking in defiance.

"You'll be caught. The heroes will find us. I'm sure of it. You will be found." Your gaze faltered slightly as he erupted into laughter at your expense.

"Silly girlie, the heroes won't find you here. And if they do, I'll be long gone by then. No one knows to look for you, you're all alone, and if you don't cooperate, you'll scream and no one but me will get to hear the pretty sound." After checking your bindings one last time, he smirked at you and unceremoniously tied a gag in your mouth. "How about I let you think about what happens next, see if some time alone will make you more responsive." And just like that, he walked away, leaving you in the center of the cold warehouse, tied to a chair.

Once he was out of sight, you frantically fought to free yourself, crying out as you rubbed your wrists raw in an effort to slip them free of the rope. Unfortunately, they held true and tight.  You bowed your head after what felt like hours of struggling and let yourself rest, building up strength for what could be a fruitless fight.

~~~~~~~~

Dabi waited less than patiently for you to come home from work. You were late and he was not pleased in the slightest. He slid around the bottom of his tank, glancing back at the door every few seconds. He worked his jaw irritably, frustration growing with each moment that passed. You were supposed to be here and he didn't like the breach in routine.

The room grew dark as the sun traveled across the sky, vanishing behind the horizon along with Dabi's anger. The frustration that had been building in the pit of his stomach had soured. Now worry was his prevalent feeling. You had never stayed out this late before. He slipped out of his cage You never latched it anymore because he was always escaping anyway. slipping onto the floor, he made his way through the house, wondering if he had somehow missed you coming home in the first place. Alas, there was no sign of you and as he tasted the air, he could find no trace of you.

Worry ate at him as the hour grew later and later. Thoughts of possible outcomes flooded his mind with unpleasantness. His frantic thoughts slowed when the sun peeked into the living room. Any doubt that something was wrong was gone. he growled and threw his small body at the door, furious that he could do nothing. 'She's in trouble and I'm useless! I can't just sit around and do nothing! The woman I love is in danger somewhere and I'm a ******* snake!'

The anger in him boiled in his veins and he felt odd. With a loud pop, his gaze was now level with the doorknob rather than the bottom of the door. He blinked slowly as he took stock of what just happened. He was human again. He grimly took stock of himself, making sure all features were accounted for before realizing the implications of being human again. He had been thinking about you when he transformed, how much he needed to be human again to help you. He waved away the thought with irritation. He wasn't ready to believe you had broken the quirk's effect on him like some ******** fairy tale curse. Still, thinking on this brought him back to the matter at hand.

He searched your apartment for clothes before bolting out the door. He searched all the places you talked about, looking for clues to your whereabouts.

His search had lasted all morning and he was getting desperate as the evening approached with no real solution. He ducked into an alleyway before pausing. He recognized this place... This is where you had tripped just the day before last. He had been focused on you then, but he remembered that a man had talked to you here. Dabi thought of how terrified you had been and hoped you weren't scared now, where ever you were. About to give up on this section of the city, he nearly tripped outside the alleyway. He kicked the object in anger and it ricocheted off the brick and pelted him in the leg. He felt his mouth grow dry in horror when he noticed exactly what the object was. It was your nametag from work.

Picking it up, his fears were confirmed as he looked it over. You had been taken by the man from the alleyway. A deep growl of anger escaped him and he had to tuck the nametag into his pocket for fear of incinerating it in his anger. He turned quickly and strode back into the street. Hopefully, Giran was available because he had a favor to cash in. He would locate the man who took his little firefly, and if they had harmed you... well, only ash would remain when he was done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You glared at your captor through tired eyes, eyes stinging from the punch you had received after insulting him.

"Now really, all I want is a measly bit of information. Your quirk, what is it."

You closed your eyes and relaxed your expression before giving him a weary look. Bowing your head, you mumbled under your breath.

Taishi, as he had introduced himself, stepped forward to hear better. "What was that? Speak up."

You repeated your words, quiet still. It was spoken as if you lacked the strength to speak louder. Growling in annoyance, he leaned closer to hear.

Inhaling deeply, you waited until he was close, " I said... **** YOU!" You screamed at him, kicking him between the legs with all the force you could muster. As he fell to the ground, your chair tipped over from the force of the kick and your vision swam as your head bounced on the floor.

Taishi rose, venom in his gaze as he kicked you sharply in the stomach, glowering in rage as you yelped.  

"You could have done this the easy way, but no! You just had to be a *****!" He readied a blade as he stood over your prone body.

You slammed your eyes shut in preparation for the pain, but it never came. There was the sound of fire coming to life, and an uncomfortable stream of hot air brushed over you accompanied by a horrid stench and the screams of your captor.

Daring to open your eyes, you were met with a strange sight. A man you had never seen before stood above your captor, his hands aglow with a blue flame. Covered in burns and staples, there was no question in your mind who it must be, the villain Dabi.

Once he was certain Taishi was not going to get up again, he turned to you. His turquoise eyes locked onto yours and you could see fury burning in them. But as he looked you over, they softened a bit, and concern mixed with the anger. As he approached, you tried to scoot backward away from him, a whimper escaping unbidden.

Dabi froze at your obvious fear. He regarded you for a moment as he tried to figure out what to do. He was furious, but he knew you needed him calm instead if you were to trust him. Closing his eyes, he extinguished his hands and held them up in a placating gesture.

"Shh... It's okay firefly, I'm not going to hurt you." He hated that you looked at him with such fear. You had blood running down your face, lip obviously split from a punch, and various bruises and cuts on your arms added to your pitiful state. Still, you were strong, and he knew that if he didn't diffuse the situation, you would try to fight.

"Are you alright, firefly? Anything broken?" He scanned you for pressing injuries relieved to find nothing too major. He knelt on the floor beside you as you strained to look back at him, still freaked out and confused.

"What are you doing? Why are you here? What do you want from me?" your questions were rushed as you tried to make sense of what was happening. You hissed in pain and closed your eyes tightly as he freed your wrists, fresh blood welling from the raw skin as the rope agitated it one last time. You were weaker than you wanted to admit, but it didn't seem like the villain was going to do anything.

Dabi tossed the chair away and gently pulled you onto your back, cradling your upper body in his lap as blue eyes scanned over your face. His shoulders sagged in relief and he pulled you close.

" Don't you ever scare me like that again, idiot!" He scooped you up and walked out of the warehouse with purpose before shouting for someone named Kurogiri.

You clutched him in panic as a dark void opened in front of you and you both vanished inside you screaming as you tucked your face into his shoulder.

Dabi rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the matching portal in your apartment.

"Stop screaming, you'll get a noise complaint." He carried you into your room and laid you on the bed before disappearing to get a first aid kit while you glanced around in shocked bewilderment.

"But, how? Home, and the dark, and you're a villain. " This day had sucked, and you were fairly certain you were having a mental breakdown. "What is going on?" You wailed, dropping your head into your hands as your head pounded.

"I brought you home, firefly. Also, I'm you're pet snake. Surprise. Now sit still so I can patch you up." He plopped down on the bed beside you and immediately began tending to your wounds while all you could do was stare in disbelief.

"You're insane. Or I'm dead. I suppose those are both viable options." Still, something about his words rang true.

"If you're actually Dabi, my snake, what's something only he would know?"

Dabi rolled his eyes and fixed you with a scowl but stayed quiet in thought as he contemplated an answer. You searched his gaze, almost challenging him to say something to prove he wasn't crazy.

You jumped when he grabbed your hand. His thumb traced a familiar pattern on the inside of your palm that he identified without even looking at it.

"Right there, Is where I, your 'Spitfire' as you called me... bit you during the first week I was here." He watched your eyes widen and continued when you stayed silent. "You also told me your whole life story, but I figure you've been through enough today without me recounting all the parental disappointment you've told me about. Now, are you going to let me fix you up or not?" He quirked an eyebrow in a movement that you recognized from his time as your pet. He had tilted his head a little bit, his tell when he was annoyed. Or at least, it was what you had told yourself when you still thought he was just an animal.

You swallowed and reached out, hand cupping his cheek gently, mindful of the staples. You watched his eyes cycle through various stages of panic, as well as affection and fear as he kept a calm and cocky facade to all who didn't know him as well as you did.

"You're really him. You're my spitfire?" He nodded, watching you uncomfortably as you searched his face. He waited for your verdict, where you rejected him outright and drew away. Instead, you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling back shyly.

"You saved my life. Thank you, Dabi. I know you're a villain, but.... You were my hero today."

He debated keeping up his facade before saying to heck with it. He pulled you into a fierce kiss, all his worry and relief and love pouring over you as he held you tight. You relaxed into the embrace, kissing back as you let him tell you how he really felt. Pulling away when you needed air, a breathy giggle escaped when you bumped noses.

His smile was one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen and you were looking forward to learning what had happened to put such a mysterious and amazing man in your life.

He shushed you as you moved to ask, shaking his head tiredly. "After, my firefly. Let's get your injuries tended to first, then I'll tell you everything."

Taglist:

@witch-o-memes

@nightlygiggless

@ravensfeatheruniverse

[schrijverr]

Solidarity

This is about enby he/they Jon, who wants to wear a skirt to work, because they’re comfy. He confides in Tim, who agrees to help them. He does so by dyeing his hair purple.

It is completely based on the art of @fox-guardian, their Tim and all other TMA designs live in my mind rent free, so go check them out! The designs I used will also be linked in text for a better mental image

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none really, but tell me if I missed something or if you want me to tag anything!

A/N: this is my first time writing someone with multiple pronouns, if I can improve feel free to tell me, no obligations of course :D

~~~~~~~~

Jon was nervous, he was almost always nervous, but they had an impeccable mask. However, today he was even more nervous and it was showing through the cracks. They had finally put a non-binary flag sticker on his laptop.

They weren’t about to tell everyone at the office about it, the he/him pronouns for work suited them just fine for now and he didn’t want to go through the effort of explaining he/they pronouns to everyone, the flag was just for them.

Georgie had given him the sticker when they had come out to her. They lost contact soon after, but Jon had always appreciated the gesture. Until now he had been too afraid to stick it on something, because what if that object didn’t last and they wasted the sticker on that?

But now he had a brand new laptop and in a wave of courage they had put the sticker on it.

A decision he was now regretting, since they were walking into work and anyone could see it. Of course, the people who knew what the flag meant, would most likely be chill with it, but anyone would recognize it as a pride flag, even if they might not know which one.

He had tried to convince themself it didn’t matter, he was proud of who they were, had been for a long while.

But it was still scary.

They sighed and pushed open the door, quickly making his way to their desk where he tried to make the flag less noticeable by reorganizing their desk.

Luck was not on his side, however, because Tim made his way over to them. He greeted him and Tim smiled back: “Hi there, Jon. What are you reorganizing for? Trying to get that archivist job, ey?”

Jon couldn't help it, they froze. His hands stilled as they tried to come up with an excuse, but nothing came out. He just stared at Tim and waved their hands around helplessly. His actions made Tim frown and he asked: “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, Tim.” Jon answered, before, with a stroke of genius (not), they pushed a stack of paper in front of the flag.

The paper stack wasn’t near high enough to cover it and all it did was call attention to what Jon had been trying to hide. He cringed and looked at Tim to try and gauge his reaction to the sticker.

Tim glanced over and spotted the sticker, a look of understanding coming over his face. He could see the light fear in Jons eyes, so he went for a disarming smile as he said: “That’s cool. I, myself, am the B of the beautiful alphabet soup. Want me to change pronouns for you?”

Jon practically sagged with relief, their heart beginning to slow down again and he said: “No, I just use he/him in a professional setting, but, uhm, you know, thank you.”

“No problem.” Tim smiled, “Always good to know you’re not alone, right? Solidarity and all that.”

“Yeah.” Jon shyly returned the smile.

Later that day Tim ‘accidentally’ left his mug in front of the flag when he was talking to Jon and the next day a three striped flag could be found on Tims laptop. It wasn’t much, but it was support and that was comforting.

In the privacy of their own home Jon put on a skirt, he liked dressing like, what Georgie called, an elderly librarian, but it was comfortable and they wished he was comfortable enough to wear it to work.

They shook the thought off, no use in dwelling on the possibilities, after all, but it remained there in the back of his mind.

The next time they thought about it seriously, was when he actually got promoted. It came to them again when he realized that the Archives were mostly hidden away in the basement and didn’t get a lot of traffic. Wearing a skirt there was much less high risk, besides they would be working with Tim and Sasha, they both knew, and he had thought they’d seen a trans flag as the background for that annoying other guy, Martin, he thought his name was.

Still, they would have to walk through the building for a bit first, past the front desk in the main entrance hall and while Rosie was a sweet lady, she a nosy one too.

Jon shoved the thought away, but this time it fought harder when he tried to let go of it. They thought of it when his pants felt tight around their legs, when his tie wrapped around their throat and whenever Sasha walked past in a dress.

A few weeks into the organization of the Archives, Jon had made up his mind. They were gonna wear a skirt, but first he needed to be sure they would have at least one ally on his side.

They casually held back Tim at the end of the day. He looked surprised and asked: “Hey, what’s up boss?”

“Uhm, can I- can I ask you something?” Jon began.

He didn’t know if it was the body language or the hesitation that put Tim on high alert, but he straightened up a bit and answered: “Of course, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, per say.” they said, “I just have this idea, but before I do it, I want to ensure that I have someone taller to hide behind in case it goes wrong.”

“That is not helping, Jon. Is it those statements? Sasha says they’re all weird, they’re not getting to you too, are they?” Tim replied.

“Oh no, not at all. You know I don’t belief that nonsense.” Jon quickly assured him, then he hunched a bit over and mumbled: “I was just just thinking of wearing a skirt to work, since they’re comfortable, but, you know?”

They looked up and hoped Tim would understand. He saw how Tims concerned expression morphed into understanding, then his eyes glittered, before he got excited. He grinned: “I got the perfect idea, I will 100% cover you, boss. Just wait and I’ll text you when you can do it, alright? I got a plan.”

“Wha-? What’s the plan? Tim? Tim!” Tim was already gone.

Jon spend the next few days nervously. They had asked Tim a few times, but he had been waved away with a ‘don’t worry’ or a ‘you’ll see.’

Then on Tuesday morning, they got a text from Tim, simply reading: It’s time, meet me near the gates at 8:45.

Not wanting to stand outside in the outfit on his own for a while, Jon made sure to be there precisely on time and not a second later.

He had chosen a comfort outfit, since they suspected he was going to need it today. It was a long dark grey skirt, which they had paired with green socks, dress shoes with a small heel, an old green cardigan and his Mechanisms shirt.

They hadn’t even stood there for five seconds when a familiar voice called out: “Here, Jon!”

Looking over he saw Tim, but now with lilac hair that matched a sweater and a dress shirt he wore as much as possible. Right now it was a sweater day, he grinned when he saw Jons shocked face and ran up to them.

“A distraction, at your service, boss.” Tim did a lazy salute, before he started to lead Jon inside.

Jon was speechless for a moment, then they said: “You didn’t have to do all that for me, isn’t that a dress code violation?”

“Old Elias won’t care, besides if they yell at me for it, it’s only less attention on you.” Tim waved his worries away, “And I did have to do it. To be honest, I’ve always wanted to dye my hair, but never found a reason to try a violate dress code, but this was just a perfect excuse.”

“Thank you, Tim, really. It means a lot.” Jon told him sincerely.

“No worries, solidarity, am I right.” Tim told them.

They walked in to the Institute together and the first thing Jon heard was Rosie calling out: “Tim, your hair! I love it, dear.”

Internally Jon smiled: Solidarity.